Today at my Weight Watchers meeting I was awarded Lifetime status, meaning that I've hit my goal weight and maintained it for six weeks. Now, it's my job to keep the pounds off, and to continue my healthy habits for the rest of my life. I am encouraged to continue going to WW meetings to stay on track, and to continue journaling my food, which I will do. I hope that one day I won't have to write every morsel down, but I will use the scale as my guide: if I gain, I'll jump back on WW immediately.
Part of the standard protocol at meetings is that members receiving Lifetime get to get up in front of the group and discuss their success. I can not believe how emotional it was for me to do that! I was trying to tell people that they COULD lose weight, no matter what the obstacles in front of them, and I started to point out that I'd had third degree radiation burns, as well as two major surgeries, during my weight loss phase...and I really choked up. Sometimes, I can't allow myself to feel the enormity of things until I'm through them, and this was one of those times. Standing in front of that crowd, I told them: it was hard. It really, really hurt. I didn't think I could keep going...but I did. And now look at me! I can hardly believe the difference - I look like an entirely different person. I'm thin! I really am! I'm at an "ideal" weight, and nobody (except myself) can take it away from me. I intend to remain thin for all of my days. I've been heavy, and I didn't like it: I'm NOT going back.
For any here who are trying to lose weight, here are the two things I think it boils down to. Really, there are only two things that I think make a person successful at weight loss. Only two. You can do it!
1. Decide that it's really very, very important to you to lose weight, and that are absolutely committed to losing weight NOW. This is different than wanting to lose weight - wishes do not get results. If you decide that losing weight is an absolute top priority for you, then you will remake your life to make weight loss possible. You will tell the girlfriend who invites you out to lunch, "You know, I can't resist the cheesecake at that resturant, and I'm trying to cut back. Can we go somewhere else instead?" You will bring snacks with you so that you have healthy choices when you're going to be busy all day. You will refuse to use cookbooks whose main ingredient lists include lots of butter and cream. You will weigh your food. All because of one thing: you decided that it was important. We all know how to lose weight, and it's not rocket science (eat less, exercise more), but I think that the thing is the level of commitment. Don't think that you can't because of your husband's sweet tooth, or your office's policy of having donut Fridays, or the fact that your kids like too many carbs and so it's hard for you to avoid those things. Just decide that it's the most important thing to you to be thin, and make your decisions based on that. The cliche'd expression "nothing tastes as good as being thin feels" is oh-so-true. I still love fettucine alfredo...but not nearly as much as I love being thin. Never before in my life have I really committed to losing weight. It's not easy, but it can be done....if you commit to it.
2. Write down every bite, and be honest about it. I've never food journaled before this, and I see why it's such a successful technique: it forces honesty in black and white; and it makes you think, "do I want to have to write this down?" It also helps with math. If you're adding up in your head, it's easy to miss things, to "forget," or to miscalculate portions. It's harder to lie on paper, right there before you. Write it down! If you're dieting now, and it's not working, start writing it down, and you'll discover one of two things: either that you're eating more than you thought (or more of the wrong things than you thought); or that you weren't really dieting at all because of all of the "hidden" foods that you weren't really counting in your head. In a recent Oprah magazine there was a great article about weight loss that discussed food journaling, and it said that people who do not food journal tended to underestimate their caloric intake by 1,050 calories a day. WHOA! That's a lot of calories! I believe that journaling is the magic bullet for dieters. You bite it, you write it; you nibble, you scribble. Try it! It really works!
I don't profess to have all of the answers, but I've become the biggest believer in Weight Watchers. They know their stuff. They've seen it all. The meetings are a big motivator...and I can't tell you how many times I thought "well I want to eat ___ but I'm being weighed in a couple of days and I don't want them to write down a higher number than last week," so the nature of weighing in weekly is very effective. I've met lovely, wonderful people there, and everyone is very encouraging. My leader, Shelly, is an amazing, amazing, woman, and I credit a good deal of my success to her lessons, kindness, and support.
But in the end, it was ME who did the hard work, and I'm very, very, very proud of myself. Officially, I lost 39 pounds. I hope to never see them again....and you'll see me working at keeping them off for the rest of my life.
Love,
Kristina
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Saturday, May 20, 2006
I want breasts.
Yesterday I shopped, briefly, for a couple of summer clothing items. I'd like a sundress that fits me, and so off I went.
All of the sundresses I liked had halter tops, spaghetti straps, strapless, or V-necks. All were impossible for a woman who has one weird, bumpy, off-to-one-side breast and one flat side. From the bottom of my rib-cage down, I thought they looked fabulous. Around my bosom, they looked terrible.
This breast business is really, truly, seriously getting old. I feel like I've done my time, and yet I'm still in jail. It's been nearly a year, and still, I have one breast, and it doesn't look that great (think Frankenstein). One day, I know, I'm going to have two relatively normal looking breasts, just scarred...but now, I have one lousy, misshapen, lumpy breast, and one very flat, burned, brown, scarred chest.
Losing all this weight, I have a desire to show off my new body. I'm a weight I haven't been since my mid-twenties, and I love it. I'm out of size 8, wearing size 6 all the time. And yet clothes shopping is still sometimes torturous, unless I want to advertise my mastectomy through the clothes I wear.
Grrrr.
All of the sundresses I liked had halter tops, spaghetti straps, strapless, or V-necks. All were impossible for a woman who has one weird, bumpy, off-to-one-side breast and one flat side. From the bottom of my rib-cage down, I thought they looked fabulous. Around my bosom, they looked terrible.
This breast business is really, truly, seriously getting old. I feel like I've done my time, and yet I'm still in jail. It's been nearly a year, and still, I have one breast, and it doesn't look that great (think Frankenstein). One day, I know, I'm going to have two relatively normal looking breasts, just scarred...but now, I have one lousy, misshapen, lumpy breast, and one very flat, burned, brown, scarred chest.
Losing all this weight, I have a desire to show off my new body. I'm a weight I haven't been since my mid-twenties, and I love it. I'm out of size 8, wearing size 6 all the time. And yet clothes shopping is still sometimes torturous, unless I want to advertise my mastectomy through the clothes I wear.
Grrrr.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
"Blog against cancer" for LiveStrong
The LiveStrong organization, headed by Lance Armstrong, is determined to make a difference by helping cancer survivors, finding cures, and encouraging government to do important funding to fight this deadly disease. Today is LiveStrong's "Blog against cancer" event, and I'm participating.
Cancer, in any form, is frightening. Terrifying. Mind-numbing. Everyone knows someone touched by the disease, and we all know that a cancer diagnosis comes hand in hand with the kind of fear that makes one shake and tremble. It must be stopped. We must find out what factors - environmental or otherwise - are causing cancer rates to rise so dramatically, and we must find cures. I know too much about cancer to want to witness anyone else go through it, and yet I know that I will, in my lifetime, doubtless receive that terrible phone call or message that someone else I love has cancer.
I plan to make a difference through fundraising. It's all that I know how to do, so I must do it. If you haven't already, today would be a great day to donate to the Breast Cancer 3-Day (there's a link on the right of this page), or to any other cancer charity (LiveStrong is a great one, and one that Ryan and I support, in addition to the Susan G. Komen Foundation.)
Love,
Kristina
Cancer, in any form, is frightening. Terrifying. Mind-numbing. Everyone knows someone touched by the disease, and we all know that a cancer diagnosis comes hand in hand with the kind of fear that makes one shake and tremble. It must be stopped. We must find out what factors - environmental or otherwise - are causing cancer rates to rise so dramatically, and we must find cures. I know too much about cancer to want to witness anyone else go through it, and yet I know that I will, in my lifetime, doubtless receive that terrible phone call or message that someone else I love has cancer.
I plan to make a difference through fundraising. It's all that I know how to do, so I must do it. If you haven't already, today would be a great day to donate to the Breast Cancer 3-Day (there's a link on the right of this page), or to any other cancer charity (LiveStrong is a great one, and one that Ryan and I support, in addition to the Susan G. Komen Foundation.)
Love,
Kristina
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Yard Sale Craziness - Pictures
Here are some pictures of the craziness that was our yard sale. Our neighbors, Jeff & Amy, kindly let us use their front yard, and we spread out across the two yards, taking up the sidewalk and parking strip as well. There were literally hundreds of visitors to the yard sale - and countless items for sale. The pictures give just a taste of what it was like that day: organized chaos!
The final two pictures were taken the night before the yard sale. Our dining room table became a sorting ground for clothing (a hopeless cause because there was just so much!) and Erik found a fabulously awful yellow blazer that had us all in stitches laughing. Good times, despite the huge amount of work!
Kristina
The final two pictures were taken the night before the yard sale. Our dining room table became a sorting ground for clothing (a hopeless cause because there was just so much!) and Erik found a fabulously awful yellow blazer that had us all in stitches laughing. Good times, despite the huge amount of work!
Kristina
Moving on
A few months ago, there was a post on the YSC ("Young Survivor Coalition" - a website for women under the age of 40 who have been diagnosed with breast cancer) about moving on, and whether it was possible to truly move on after breast cancer. The women there posted a variety of thoughts on the subject, ranging from the "I forgot about it as soon as I finished" (then why are you on a support-group website?!) to "it's always on my mind, every second of every minute of every hour of every day." The idea of moving on pops in my head all the time now: as I approach my one year anniversary of diagnosis, I start to wonder what moving on looks like for me.
Obviously, my diagnosis changed the rest of my life. The thing that I miss most, more than my breasts or hair, is my innocence. Before June 1, 2005, I was innocent. Aside from the tragedy of my cousin Kathy's death at age 17 in 1988 (I miss her every day, to this day), I had not been deeply touched by tragedy. I don't know if I felt invincible, but it did seem like bad things happened to other people. The diagnosis changed all of that, and in a heartbeat. Not only did I lose body parts, and a year of treatment, but I also lost confidence in my own body's ability to fight the "bad stuff." I am no longer invincible. I am utterly human, and there is no guarantee that I will live to be 100. A good attitude, strong support network, and healthy lifestyle guarantee me nothing. This, of course, is no different from the minute before I found my lump; it's just that I'm always aware of it now.
I will never regain my innocence. There will always be two parts to my life: before and after breast cancer. The loss of innocence is the dividing point between those points.
Despite all that, I do wish to move on. So how do I move on, while acknowledging that life will never again be what it once was?
I think that the answer to that question will come slowly, over time. I don't pretend to have it figured out, and I know that what is true for me will not ring true for others...my truth is not an absolute truth, and what's more, it may be an ever changing truth.
Right now, here's what I know. I know that I want to stop losing time to cancer. For nearly a year, every moment has been colored by cancer. I have felt the aches and pains of treatment as a daily reminder, and I have felt the heartache of wondering what would happen if treatment didn't work. It's time to move past that. With the removal of my final breast, the hard part of treatment is now officially over. My time will not be robbed, daily, by cancer's after-effects, because now I am working on healing. Nothing else will be taken from me: from here on out, my hair will grow longer, my breasts will return to me (in some form!), and the hours of my days will be less and less painful as my body returns to fitness and health. Soon, I will be able to chase Tessa again, to scoop her up in my arms and throw her up in the air and catch her, and my body will not shriek at me to STOP before I fall down from the pain. Soon, I will be able to exercise daily, to keep house and to cook food, to organize playdates, to assist friends and family with their needs, to work regular hours for the BSD. That is what it means to move on. I want to move out of a land where pain is the guideline for how much I can do, and where my hours and days are stolen by doctors, technicians, and drugs. There were many weeks when I had 10 appointments per week; there has not been a week without medical appointments (except Christmas) since the whole mess started, and. I still have appointments and scans, I still have doctors to see, but only sometimes, not all the time.
With clear pathology on my hysterectomy and mastectomy, and a clean whole-body MRI and CT scan, I am disease free. Now, I need to go about the business of living, and I really want to live. I am impatient to enjoy long summer days, to BBQ with friends, to bring my body to never-before-seen levels of fitness. I want to live fully, with full knowledge of the beauty that life presents itself. I will not take it for granted. I want to seize every day and live it to the fullest, because a little voice whispers in my ear "At any moment, this can all change, and tragedy can strike. Don't throw away what you're given! This is your life, and it's short. Make a difference! LIVE!" It's a bittersweet message: full of hope and strength and courage to make the most of my life, tinged with the fear that I will have to relive some of the past year again in the future. I know that I may die young. I don't plan on it, but I know that my plans have nothing to do with it. All I can do is make the most of my days, and hope and pray that I live to watch my daughter grow old, my husband at my side, surrounded by friends and family.
I'm ready to move on in this new universe I live in. I will never forget that I am a breast cancer survivor, but I hope to live my life as more than just a survivor - I want to take every minute and squeeze the essence from it, absorbing all of the joy that the world has to offer me. What's more, I want to give joy to those around me. I want to give my family the best of me, to share and learn from friends and family, and to inspire other breast cancer survivors. I want to use my life for something useful: I want to leave the world a better place than I found it. I pray that I can be part of the solution to finding a cure for breast cancer; I will not forget the cause. I want to remember my diagnosis, without being defined by it.
The anniversary of my diagnosis is a monumental day for me. I barely remember the self that existed before that day...she seems so far away now. I hope that I can revisit her, and recapture some of her spirit, while keeping some of the strength that I have earned and learned in the past year.
Moving on. I'm trying, that's for sure. It sounds so beautiful to me - to move on, and reclaim my life. That is what I am working on, on this beautiful sunny day.
Love,
Kristina
Obviously, my diagnosis changed the rest of my life. The thing that I miss most, more than my breasts or hair, is my innocence. Before June 1, 2005, I was innocent. Aside from the tragedy of my cousin Kathy's death at age 17 in 1988 (I miss her every day, to this day), I had not been deeply touched by tragedy. I don't know if I felt invincible, but it did seem like bad things happened to other people. The diagnosis changed all of that, and in a heartbeat. Not only did I lose body parts, and a year of treatment, but I also lost confidence in my own body's ability to fight the "bad stuff." I am no longer invincible. I am utterly human, and there is no guarantee that I will live to be 100. A good attitude, strong support network, and healthy lifestyle guarantee me nothing. This, of course, is no different from the minute before I found my lump; it's just that I'm always aware of it now.
I will never regain my innocence. There will always be two parts to my life: before and after breast cancer. The loss of innocence is the dividing point between those points.
Despite all that, I do wish to move on. So how do I move on, while acknowledging that life will never again be what it once was?
I think that the answer to that question will come slowly, over time. I don't pretend to have it figured out, and I know that what is true for me will not ring true for others...my truth is not an absolute truth, and what's more, it may be an ever changing truth.
Right now, here's what I know. I know that I want to stop losing time to cancer. For nearly a year, every moment has been colored by cancer. I have felt the aches and pains of treatment as a daily reminder, and I have felt the heartache of wondering what would happen if treatment didn't work. It's time to move past that. With the removal of my final breast, the hard part of treatment is now officially over. My time will not be robbed, daily, by cancer's after-effects, because now I am working on healing. Nothing else will be taken from me: from here on out, my hair will grow longer, my breasts will return to me (in some form!), and the hours of my days will be less and less painful as my body returns to fitness and health. Soon, I will be able to chase Tessa again, to scoop her up in my arms and throw her up in the air and catch her, and my body will not shriek at me to STOP before I fall down from the pain. Soon, I will be able to exercise daily, to keep house and to cook food, to organize playdates, to assist friends and family with their needs, to work regular hours for the BSD. That is what it means to move on. I want to move out of a land where pain is the guideline for how much I can do, and where my hours and days are stolen by doctors, technicians, and drugs. There were many weeks when I had 10 appointments per week; there has not been a week without medical appointments (except Christmas) since the whole mess started, and. I still have appointments and scans, I still have doctors to see, but only sometimes, not all the time.
With clear pathology on my hysterectomy and mastectomy, and a clean whole-body MRI and CT scan, I am disease free. Now, I need to go about the business of living, and I really want to live. I am impatient to enjoy long summer days, to BBQ with friends, to bring my body to never-before-seen levels of fitness. I want to live fully, with full knowledge of the beauty that life presents itself. I will not take it for granted. I want to seize every day and live it to the fullest, because a little voice whispers in my ear "At any moment, this can all change, and tragedy can strike. Don't throw away what you're given! This is your life, and it's short. Make a difference! LIVE!" It's a bittersweet message: full of hope and strength and courage to make the most of my life, tinged with the fear that I will have to relive some of the past year again in the future. I know that I may die young. I don't plan on it, but I know that my plans have nothing to do with it. All I can do is make the most of my days, and hope and pray that I live to watch my daughter grow old, my husband at my side, surrounded by friends and family.
I'm ready to move on in this new universe I live in. I will never forget that I am a breast cancer survivor, but I hope to live my life as more than just a survivor - I want to take every minute and squeeze the essence from it, absorbing all of the joy that the world has to offer me. What's more, I want to give joy to those around me. I want to give my family the best of me, to share and learn from friends and family, and to inspire other breast cancer survivors. I want to use my life for something useful: I want to leave the world a better place than I found it. I pray that I can be part of the solution to finding a cure for breast cancer; I will not forget the cause. I want to remember my diagnosis, without being defined by it.
The anniversary of my diagnosis is a monumental day for me. I barely remember the self that existed before that day...she seems so far away now. I hope that I can revisit her, and recapture some of her spirit, while keeping some of the strength that I have earned and learned in the past year.
Moving on. I'm trying, that's for sure. It sounds so beautiful to me - to move on, and reclaim my life. That is what I am working on, on this beautiful sunny day.
Love,
Kristina
Monday, May 15, 2006
Proud of Ryan
First, I need to say that I'm very proud of Ryan for all that he's accomplished over the past months. He has developed a positive outlook, and his smile truly gladdens my heart. Ryan is a fabulously smart and talented individual, and some company is going to be so incredibly fortunate to have him working for him.
That said, the Microsoft position did not come through, and of course that's disappointing. There is a silver lining, however: the team all thought that Ryan was "Microsoft material," just not a good fit for the position, and the recruiter has another position in mind that she'd like Ryan to interview for. We'll hear more soon...and we hope for the best, of course.
I'd also like to post a couple of pictures: a before and after of Ryan. The first picture was taken on my first Mother's Day, when Ryan was at his heaviest weight. The second was taken yesterday on Mother's Day - look at how handsome my husband is! He continues to work hard at Weight Watchers with me, and he's almost lost more than I have (we're neck in neck). Wahooooo! I'll also post one of me yesterday - I don't think it's the most flattering, but it certainly shows that I've lost weight from where I started. :-)
That said, the Microsoft position did not come through, and of course that's disappointing. There is a silver lining, however: the team all thought that Ryan was "Microsoft material," just not a good fit for the position, and the recruiter has another position in mind that she'd like Ryan to interview for. We'll hear more soon...and we hope for the best, of course.
I'd also like to post a couple of pictures: a before and after of Ryan. The first picture was taken on my first Mother's Day, when Ryan was at his heaviest weight. The second was taken yesterday on Mother's Day - look at how handsome my husband is! He continues to work hard at Weight Watchers with me, and he's almost lost more than I have (we're neck in neck). Wahooooo! I'll also post one of me yesterday - I don't think it's the most flattering, but it certainly shows that I've lost weight from where I started. :-)
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Yard Sale Results; Happy Mother's Day!
Yesterday's yard sale was a phenomenal success - just thinking about how many people contributed to its success through donations, volunteer time, baking, etc. brings tears to my eyes. I am overwhlemed with gratitude! There were literally hundreds of people that came by and shopped, and I'm glad for that, too.
And (drumroll please): We raised over $2100!!!!! THANK YOU! The money will be divided up among participating team members to put in their Breast Cancer 3-Day accounts, so that individuals can get closer to their goals. (Each team member needs to raise $2200 in order to participate in the walk.)
I took a few photos that I will post later. Now, I must go and enjoy Mother's Day! Happy Mother's Day to the wonderful mothers in my life: I am blessed by my own mother's love, and I am grateful for the many mothers in my life who have helped to mother me, or who have set great examples of mothering for me to learn from.
Love,
Kristina
And (drumroll please): We raised over $2100!!!!! THANK YOU! The money will be divided up among participating team members to put in their Breast Cancer 3-Day accounts, so that individuals can get closer to their goals. (Each team member needs to raise $2200 in order to participate in the walk.)
I took a few photos that I will post later. Now, I must go and enjoy Mother's Day! Happy Mother's Day to the wonderful mothers in my life: I am blessed by my own mother's love, and I am grateful for the many mothers in my life who have helped to mother me, or who have set great examples of mothering for me to learn from.
Love,
Kristina
Friday, May 12, 2006
WOW - Yard Sale Update
Today, for the first time, I fully understand how GIGANTIC the yard sale is going to be. People brought by items all day long, and I'm thrilled by the sheer enormity of goods that we have to sell. There's furniture, more clothes than any 20 people could wear, a Toys'R'Us worth of toys and children's thing, and household stuff enough to furnish a couple homes (I think I counted 8 lamps, 4 crockpots, etc).
So many people are helping with time and donations that I am truly touched (and overwhelmed). I look forward to a festive atmosphere tomorrow - come on by if you live in the area, and see what treasures we have for sale! 100% of the proceeds benefit the Breast Cancer 3-Day. We WILL find a cure.
Love,
Kristina
So many people are helping with time and donations that I am truly touched (and overwhelmed). I look forward to a festive atmosphere tomorrow - come on by if you live in the area, and see what treasures we have for sale! 100% of the proceeds benefit the Breast Cancer 3-Day. We WILL find a cure.
Love,
Kristina
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
drains out!
Today, as planned, my two remaining drains were removed. HURRAH! I hated those things, and I'm already much more comfortable. I feel fortunate as some women have had to keep their drains in for as long as a month, so at one week, I really won the prize.
This means that I also got to see my breast without bandages on it. It's not pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but it looks like it has a lot of potential. It's tiny right now, and yellow with bruises, and bright blue (!) stitches where they removed the nipple, and swelling where there isn't usually swelling...but one day, it will look like a "real" breast and I live for that moment.
I'm only taking a pain pill at night at this point, and I'm able to function during the day without one. That's good, because some of the pain meds make my vision fuzzy and my head feel fuzzier, so I like to avoid them.
Good night, all!
Kristina
This means that I also got to see my breast without bandages on it. It's not pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but it looks like it has a lot of potential. It's tiny right now, and yellow with bruises, and bright blue (!) stitches where they removed the nipple, and swelling where there isn't usually swelling...but one day, it will look like a "real" breast and I live for that moment.
I'm only taking a pain pill at night at this point, and I'm able to function during the day without one. That's good, because some of the pain meds make my vision fuzzy and my head feel fuzzier, so I like to avoid them.
Good night, all!
Kristina
Drains come out today; yard sale update
The drains are coming out today - hurrah! hurrah! I hate the ()@()&%#) things, and it will be quite a relief to be rid of them.
I will be at doctor's appointments (plastic surgeon for drain removal, regular oncologist appt, regular Herceptin infusion) all afternoon, but this morning Ryan's dropping Tessa and I off at PEPS. I'm still a bit hesitant to drive because I can't lift my arm up very high (a problem for steering) but I'm hopeful that I'll get clearance to drive soon.
Tomorrow night I'm going to Northwest Hope and Healing's fashion show fundraiser, and I'm looking forward to the girls' night out aspects as well as to contributing (in a small way) to the cause.
Friday and Saturday will be taken up by the yard sale; on Friday evening there will be a pricing/sorting party, and the yard sale itself is at our house on Saturday. I'm realling hoping to break $1000 on this sale, as tons of people are contributing items for donation, and it's part of the MegaWatt sale so we're getting free advertising and publicity, so we expect a lot of traffic. All proceeds go to The Breast Cancer 3-Day; participants in the yard sale who are doing the 3-Day will split the proceeds of the yard sale to contribute toward their individual 3-Day totals. I'm amazed at how much work must go into this sale, and I'm amazed at how kind people are about helping. I am truly blessed!
If you're in West Seattle on Saturday, c'mon by the the sale at my house. There are a ton of baby/kids' items, as well as household items, a few items of furniture, clothing, and much much more. Out of the thousands of items donated, surely something would suit you? :-)
Love,
Kristina
I will be at doctor's appointments (plastic surgeon for drain removal, regular oncologist appt, regular Herceptin infusion) all afternoon, but this morning Ryan's dropping Tessa and I off at PEPS. I'm still a bit hesitant to drive because I can't lift my arm up very high (a problem for steering) but I'm hopeful that I'll get clearance to drive soon.
Tomorrow night I'm going to Northwest Hope and Healing's fashion show fundraiser, and I'm looking forward to the girls' night out aspects as well as to contributing (in a small way) to the cause.
Friday and Saturday will be taken up by the yard sale; on Friday evening there will be a pricing/sorting party, and the yard sale itself is at our house on Saturday. I'm realling hoping to break $1000 on this sale, as tons of people are contributing items for donation, and it's part of the MegaWatt sale so we're getting free advertising and publicity, so we expect a lot of traffic. All proceeds go to The Breast Cancer 3-Day; participants in the yard sale who are doing the 3-Day will split the proceeds of the yard sale to contribute toward their individual 3-Day totals. I'm amazed at how much work must go into this sale, and I'm amazed at how kind people are about helping. I am truly blessed!
If you're in West Seattle on Saturday, c'mon by the the sale at my house. There are a ton of baby/kids' items, as well as household items, a few items of furniture, clothing, and much much more. Out of the thousands of items donated, surely something would suit you? :-)
Love,
Kristina
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Home sweet home
I got home yesterday, and my mom brought Tessa home today, and so our family is together at home at last. It feels very good to be home!
I got the pathology from the removed breast: CLEAN! No evidience of cancer anywhere in the breast. What a relief!
Tomorrow I have doctor's appointments, and Thursday I hopefully will get the two remaining drains out (one has already been removed). Things move quickly, but not nearly as quickly as I hope for, of course.
I'm still feeling loopy from all the drugs but I'm weaning from some of the pain meds, so that should improve soon.
Love,
Kristina
I got the pathology from the removed breast: CLEAN! No evidience of cancer anywhere in the breast. What a relief!
Tomorrow I have doctor's appointments, and Thursday I hopefully will get the two remaining drains out (one has already been removed). Things move quickly, but not nearly as quickly as I hope for, of course.
I'm still feeling loopy from all the drugs but I'm weaning from some of the pain meds, so that should improve soon.
Love,
Kristina
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Update from the hospital
Swedish has WiFi, so I'm updating you from the hospital.
As Michele said (thank you for updating, Michele!) the surgery went well. The flap is doing well, and Dr. Miles was very conservative about inflating the tissue expander (only 60 ccs so far, I think) in order to give the breast/flap the best chances of success. The front of my chest is a very manageable pain - with drugs, it's only uncomfortable, not miserable - but my back is very very painful. Yesterday evening I was shaking from the pain and very nauseaus, and no amout of drugs seemed to control it. Today I have different pain meds and they're doing better.
I need to write an ode to my port...I wasn't able to use it for the surgery itself because it was in the area to be operated on, and I got poked with three holes (my veins have given up the fight, I think), each of which left a nasty bruise. Today they hooked the port up for further administration of antibiotics and pain meds, and it is SO much better. I had no idea I'd appreciate it so much!
I'm very tired, still a bit groggy and hazy, still a bit of a sore throat from the tube used during surgery, and my back really hurts much more than I imagined...but in general I'm okay because this is the last time things are taken away. I've lost both breasts, my uterus, my tubes, and my ovaries...but from here on out, we only add. There is a lot of surgery to be done in the fall, but I can't wait for the summer, training for the breast cancer 3-Day, doing hikes with my family, having picnics on the beach, building sand castles, going camping....I am ready for some celebrating.
For now, though, I"ll go back to my room to rest, because my body is demanding it!
Love,
Kristina
PS My one year "survivorship" anniversary is coming up on June 1. I'd like to do something to mark the occassion, and to celebrate that the year is behind me. I'm looking for ideas, large and small...does anyone have anything brilliant?
As Michele said (thank you for updating, Michele!) the surgery went well. The flap is doing well, and Dr. Miles was very conservative about inflating the tissue expander (only 60 ccs so far, I think) in order to give the breast/flap the best chances of success. The front of my chest is a very manageable pain - with drugs, it's only uncomfortable, not miserable - but my back is very very painful. Yesterday evening I was shaking from the pain and very nauseaus, and no amout of drugs seemed to control it. Today I have different pain meds and they're doing better.
I need to write an ode to my port...I wasn't able to use it for the surgery itself because it was in the area to be operated on, and I got poked with three holes (my veins have given up the fight, I think), each of which left a nasty bruise. Today they hooked the port up for further administration of antibiotics and pain meds, and it is SO much better. I had no idea I'd appreciate it so much!
I'm very tired, still a bit groggy and hazy, still a bit of a sore throat from the tube used during surgery, and my back really hurts much more than I imagined...but in general I'm okay because this is the last time things are taken away. I've lost both breasts, my uterus, my tubes, and my ovaries...but from here on out, we only add. There is a lot of surgery to be done in the fall, but I can't wait for the summer, training for the breast cancer 3-Day, doing hikes with my family, having picnics on the beach, building sand castles, going camping....I am ready for some celebrating.
For now, though, I"ll go back to my room to rest, because my body is demanding it!
Love,
Kristina
PS My one year "survivorship" anniversary is coming up on June 1. I'd like to do something to mark the occassion, and to celebrate that the year is behind me. I'm looking for ideas, large and small...does anyone have anything brilliant?
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
On the road to recovery!
(1:45 pm) Ryan just called to say that Kristina is now out of surgery and is in the recovery room. Dr. Miles, Kristina's plastic surgeon, assured Ryan that the lat flap procedure went well and that Kristina is doing fine. Apparently, Kristina still has her sense of humor, quipping that she'd like a room with a view. Thanks to everyone for keeping Kristina in your hearts and minds!
Michele
Michele
Mid-surgery update
As of 11:20, Kristina's surgery is progressing well. Around 9:45, Dr. Dawson called Ryan after the mastectomy portion of the surgery had been completed to say that everything had gone well. This marks the end of stuff being taken away from Kristina's body, and now the reconstruction phase begins.
Good friends Paul and Libby are present as support for Ryan and Kristina, and the rest of us are waiting in the wings. I'll give you further updates as they come.
Michele
Good friends Paul and Libby are present as support for Ryan and Kristina, and the rest of us are waiting in the wings. I'll give you further updates as they come.
Michele
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Surgery tomorrow
Well, less than twelve hours from now I'll be on the operating table. I'm packing my bags tonight to get ready...please wish me luck!
Love,
Kristina
Love,
Kristina
Monday, May 01, 2006
duplicate messages
Well, as you can see, I tried to post my MRI update several times. At first, none of them posted, so I kept re-trying...and now I've got three messages that say the same thing. Technology is funny stuff!
K
K
MRI update
The MRI is over, and I did not have to go in for an ultrasound follow-up - hurrah! I have an appointment with my surgeon tomorrow for pre-op and I hope to hear further good news then.
Ryan had his interview, and it went well. Now we must wait (possibly until May 11) to hear if there is to be a job offer.
The MRI experience was okay, except I couldn't turn off my mind, and the fear was present. It's over now, though, and that's what matters.
Love,
Kristina
Ryan had his interview, and it went well. Now we must wait (possibly until May 11) to hear if there is to be a job offer.
The MRI experience was okay, except I couldn't turn off my mind, and the fear was present. It's over now, though, and that's what matters.
Love,
Kristina
MRI today
I just posted a longer post that got eaten by the system; this one will be short.
The MRI must have gone fine as I was not required to go back for the 2pm ultrasound (thank God!). I have a pre-op appt tomorrow at 11:15 so I'll learn more then, but so far so good.
Ryan's final interview for the Microsoft position was today and it went well...hopefully we'll hear something about the result soon, but we're not expecting news before the 11th.
Love,
Kristina
The MRI must have gone fine as I was not required to go back for the 2pm ultrasound (thank God!). I have a pre-op appt tomorrow at 11:15 so I'll learn more then, but so far so good.
Ryan's final interview for the Microsoft position was today and it went well...hopefully we'll hear something about the result soon, but we're not expecting news before the 11th.
Love,
Kristina
MRI today
The MRI must not have yielded any frightening information, because I was not required to go back for the ultrasound. I have a pre-op appointment with Dr. Dawson tomorrow and I'll ask more questions then, but hopefully everything is crystal clear and free of cancer.
Ryan had his final interview for the position at Microsoft today. We may not hear anything until the 11th but I'm praying for an optimistic result before then!
The MRI procedure itself was frightening, despite my best intent of staying in my happy place. I'm glad I won't have to do that again soon.
Love,
Kristina
Ryan had his final interview for the position at Microsoft today. We may not hear anything until the 11th but I'm praying for an optimistic result before then!
The MRI procedure itself was frightening, despite my best intent of staying in my happy place. I'm glad I won't have to do that again soon.
Love,
Kristina
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Getting ready for surgery
This weekend we had an absolutely lovely time on Orcas with Marisa & Max (her wonderdog). The cabin is heaven on earth, and Marisa and I cooked wonderful (but healthy!) meals, including desserts, and we lounged in the hot-tub, listened to music, drank wine (worth the calories/points!), and soaked up the island ambiance. I didn't even mind that it POURED rain on Saturday (though Ryan went for a bike-ride in the rain anyway).
The last week went well: I felt great, and Ryan had a series of great job interviews for a position at Microsoft (he has one final interview tomorrow, and we won't know anything for a few weeks). Please wish our family well in that regard...
Now, however, I'm home and realizing that my surgery is creeping up on me faster than I'd like.
Today, I feel pretty healthy. I can chase after Tessa (for a while!), and I have the energy to tackle projects around the house or to cook interesting meals or to go to a park etc. My body is leaner than it's been in a decade, and I love wearing clothes that really fit me properly. I'm ready to train for the 3-Day again, and to resume my days in the sun, doing yardwork, taking Tessa to the beach, and accomplishing small tasks here and there.
Tomorrow, I will be in an MRI machine for 45 minutes, being scanned for new cancers in my right (only) breast. My appointment is at 10am tomorrow, with a 9:30am check in time. For some reason, there is already a "just in case" ultrasound scheduled for 2pm tomorrow. If they find anything suspicious in the MRI, I'll have to go back at 2pm. I'm bothered beyond words that "they" have planned for this possibility. My MRI last June was clear, and I've had a lot of chemo....if they find cancer now, I'm going to be very, very, very scared. The MRI is routine before a mastectomy (if there is cancer, the type of mastectomy changes), but it's not routine in MY life, and it brings back horrible memories of lying in that machine and crying for my future last June, right after I was diagnosed. I'm trying not to be negative about it, but I am dreading the event. Please pray that they will find nothing unusual, and that I will be able to maintain some kind of calm while they scan me.
On Tuesday, I hope to do a combination of playing with Tessa in the sunshine -or rain - and being as active as possible with her, combined with taking a little time for myself to get a pedicure and get ready for the surgery. Tuesday night, we'll deliver Tessa to my parents' house, so that she doesn't need to get up with us at 4:30am to get to the hospital on time.
Check-in time is 5:30am on Wednesday, and surgery is scheduled for 7:30am. I will be on the operating table for approximately six hours, and my doctor has said that Ryan will not receive any updates for those six hours. Please pray that Ryan will feel strong and supported as he waits for news. I'm hoping that Ryan will leave the hospital to go for a bike ride during that time, as he feels best when he's on a bike, and sitting there worrying about me will not help me.
The surgery itself is relatively complex. I am having a skin sparing mastectomy, in which they will remove my nipple and the inside of my breast, and also a lat flap reconstruction with a tissue expander. The lat flap procedure involves detatching one side of the latissimus dorsi muscle from my back, and wrapping it under the skin under my arm to the breast area (while part of it is still attached at the back to feed the muscle). Such a procedure creates only a very small A cup, and so I am also having a tissue expander placed between the muscles of the chest wall and the lat flap. The tissue expander is basically an "empty" implant, which will slowly be inflated with tissue to stretch out my skin enough to accomodate the implant. (The stretching is necessary because even though I'm having a skin-sparing mastectomy, some of the breast skin is removed, and the skin will shrink up as result of the shock/trauma of the surgery.) My goal is to return to my natural size, a large B cup or a small C cup. When I come out of surgery, I will be an A cup, but over the space of a few months, I'll be my normal size again.
Information on this procedure is available at:
Pictures of lat flap before and after
Lat Flap Definition
Explanation of lat flap recon with pictures
Brief info on breast reconstruction
I chose to do the lat flap because it tends to give a more natural/realistic breast than a straight implant. I will do the lat flap on the other side, as well, when it's healed from radiation (October if things go well).
I will be in the hospital for five days, most likely to be released on Monday. I will have three drains (I only had one drain for the mastectomy and then another for the node dissection last summer, and I hated them...sigh); two for the front and one for the back, I believe. I will have two five inch incisions; one in the front, one in the back. Because of this, laying down will be difficult, and the recovery is a bit tougher. My parents are going to loan us a recliner chair to put in our guest room, and I'm told that this will be the most comfortable way to sleep.
I hope to use the time in the hospital to rest, to work (an hour here and there) on my BSD curriculum work, to read magazines, and to feel relief that the surgery has gone well. Ryan worries that I overdo it, and in the hospital there will be no chance for that! :-) I hope I don't lose my mind from the boredom, though, and I will welcome visitors (probably Thursday through Sunday, as I don't know how I'll feel on Wednesday and I don't know when I'll be released on Monday).
People have asked how they can help: thank you SO much to those who have reached out. While I'm in the hospital there's not much anybody can do except visit or check on Ryan & Tessa; once I'm home, I think I'll appreciate help with Tessa and/or meals if people are so inclined. I hope to recover quickly, of course, but I can't predict how it will go. I'm told that recovery is a 6 week process, but I heal quickly, so I'm hoping to set a new healing record (wish me luck on that one!).
I will have my cellphone at the hospital once I'm settled (Ryan will bring it to me), but I don't know how much I'll be able to use it due to potential cell phone restrictions. I will be at Swedish on First Hill, and they will have me in their patient directory if you call. On the day of surgery, I will have someone update the blog with info. Ryan will have his cellphone with him on Wednesday, and will certainly appreciate your calls of support, as well.
This is hard. I don't want to do it, any of it. I don't want to think about it, I don't want to plan for it, and I don't want to deal with it. I have to stuff my anger deep inside me that this is my fate, and that I don't have a lot of choices that sound good to me. I hate that my body will have yet more scars, that there are risks with surgery, that my breasts will not be as good as they once were, that I'm always at higher risk for breast cancer than others, that there are no guarantees, that I will endure great pain, that I will not be able to pick up Tessa and hold her the way that every other mother holds her child because I will be healing. I hate that, for several months, my new breast will be rock hard and unnatural looking (until the implant is placed late next fall).
I hate that tomorrow, high tech machines will be used to see if I have cancer again. I am horribly afraid. As I type these words, I can't stop the tears from falling down my face because I'm so afraid. I hate to be afraid. I want to be strong, courageous, and confidant. Instead, I feel fear. What kind of cancer could have survived chemo? What is my fate if they find cancer tomorrow? I know what I've already been through with treatment, and I am certain that it would be worse if some type of cancer is still living in my body. By the time most people read this, the MRI will be over, and hopefully I will have great news and all this worrying will be for nothing. But until then, I'm very, very afraid.
Nearly a year of my life has passed since I found my lump - it's been eleven months. For eleven months, everything has taken a back seat to cancer. I am barely visible at my daughter's preschool (and I vowed to be an involved mother!), my family very nearly fell apart through all of this (though thankfully we're doing well now), the many projects that needed doing still aren't done, and I can barely find the energy to do a quarter of the things I both want and need to do.
I hate that Tessa knows that my nipple will be removed. I hate that she knows what it's like to have her mommy in the hospital. I hate that she keeps asking, "Mommy, will you be able to pick me up?" because she knows I can't and what she most wants is for me to hold her.
I do not have time to mourn because I am in survival mode, but every now and then....like now, as I prepare for the next horror....the anger and fear and mourning leak out. I'm removing my breast to lessen the chance that cancer will recur. I do whatever I can to live a long and happy life, and hope to God that I am doing the right things. I hope that my decision to do reconstruction is the right one: the reconstruction is hard on my body, and it's vanity that's making me do it. There is no use for my breasts, but I want to have two breasts, and I'm fighting hard for that.
I pray that Tessa will not remember the fear that has lived with us for the past year, and that she will somehow learn strength from the whole experience even as she forgets it. Tessa has imaginary tigers that she takes with her when she's frightened or worried, and lately the tigers have been coming everywhere with us. I am grateful that my daughter has chosen such a strong animal for her companion, and hope that the tigers comfort her even as she comforts them, telling them the things that I tell her. It's only for a while, sweetie. Everything will be okay. We can visit in the hospital. This summer, we will have a wonderful time, playing on the beach: we'll have a picnic, then build a sand castle, and then we'll hold hands and run into the water together, laughing because it's so cold. Yes, the tigers can come. We'll keep them safe, and they'll keep us safe.
I send my love - thank you for sending your love back.
Love,
Kristina
The last week went well: I felt great, and Ryan had a series of great job interviews for a position at Microsoft (he has one final interview tomorrow, and we won't know anything for a few weeks). Please wish our family well in that regard...
Now, however, I'm home and realizing that my surgery is creeping up on me faster than I'd like.
Today, I feel pretty healthy. I can chase after Tessa (for a while!), and I have the energy to tackle projects around the house or to cook interesting meals or to go to a park etc. My body is leaner than it's been in a decade, and I love wearing clothes that really fit me properly. I'm ready to train for the 3-Day again, and to resume my days in the sun, doing yardwork, taking Tessa to the beach, and accomplishing small tasks here and there.
Tomorrow, I will be in an MRI machine for 45 minutes, being scanned for new cancers in my right (only) breast. My appointment is at 10am tomorrow, with a 9:30am check in time. For some reason, there is already a "just in case" ultrasound scheduled for 2pm tomorrow. If they find anything suspicious in the MRI, I'll have to go back at 2pm. I'm bothered beyond words that "they" have planned for this possibility. My MRI last June was clear, and I've had a lot of chemo....if they find cancer now, I'm going to be very, very, very scared. The MRI is routine before a mastectomy (if there is cancer, the type of mastectomy changes), but it's not routine in MY life, and it brings back horrible memories of lying in that machine and crying for my future last June, right after I was diagnosed. I'm trying not to be negative about it, but I am dreading the event. Please pray that they will find nothing unusual, and that I will be able to maintain some kind of calm while they scan me.
On Tuesday, I hope to do a combination of playing with Tessa in the sunshine -or rain - and being as active as possible with her, combined with taking a little time for myself to get a pedicure and get ready for the surgery. Tuesday night, we'll deliver Tessa to my parents' house, so that she doesn't need to get up with us at 4:30am to get to the hospital on time.
Check-in time is 5:30am on Wednesday, and surgery is scheduled for 7:30am. I will be on the operating table for approximately six hours, and my doctor has said that Ryan will not receive any updates for those six hours. Please pray that Ryan will feel strong and supported as he waits for news. I'm hoping that Ryan will leave the hospital to go for a bike ride during that time, as he feels best when he's on a bike, and sitting there worrying about me will not help me.
The surgery itself is relatively complex. I am having a skin sparing mastectomy, in which they will remove my nipple and the inside of my breast, and also a lat flap reconstruction with a tissue expander. The lat flap procedure involves detatching one side of the latissimus dorsi muscle from my back, and wrapping it under the skin under my arm to the breast area (while part of it is still attached at the back to feed the muscle). Such a procedure creates only a very small A cup, and so I am also having a tissue expander placed between the muscles of the chest wall and the lat flap. The tissue expander is basically an "empty" implant, which will slowly be inflated with tissue to stretch out my skin enough to accomodate the implant. (The stretching is necessary because even though I'm having a skin-sparing mastectomy, some of the breast skin is removed, and the skin will shrink up as result of the shock/trauma of the surgery.) My goal is to return to my natural size, a large B cup or a small C cup. When I come out of surgery, I will be an A cup, but over the space of a few months, I'll be my normal size again.
Information on this procedure is available at:
Pictures of lat flap before and after
Lat Flap Definition
Explanation of lat flap recon with pictures
Brief info on breast reconstruction
I chose to do the lat flap because it tends to give a more natural/realistic breast than a straight implant. I will do the lat flap on the other side, as well, when it's healed from radiation (October if things go well).
I will be in the hospital for five days, most likely to be released on Monday. I will have three drains (I only had one drain for the mastectomy and then another for the node dissection last summer, and I hated them...sigh); two for the front and one for the back, I believe. I will have two five inch incisions; one in the front, one in the back. Because of this, laying down will be difficult, and the recovery is a bit tougher. My parents are going to loan us a recliner chair to put in our guest room, and I'm told that this will be the most comfortable way to sleep.
I hope to use the time in the hospital to rest, to work (an hour here and there) on my BSD curriculum work, to read magazines, and to feel relief that the surgery has gone well. Ryan worries that I overdo it, and in the hospital there will be no chance for that! :-) I hope I don't lose my mind from the boredom, though, and I will welcome visitors (probably Thursday through Sunday, as I don't know how I'll feel on Wednesday and I don't know when I'll be released on Monday).
People have asked how they can help: thank you SO much to those who have reached out. While I'm in the hospital there's not much anybody can do except visit or check on Ryan & Tessa; once I'm home, I think I'll appreciate help with Tessa and/or meals if people are so inclined. I hope to recover quickly, of course, but I can't predict how it will go. I'm told that recovery is a 6 week process, but I heal quickly, so I'm hoping to set a new healing record (wish me luck on that one!).
I will have my cellphone at the hospital once I'm settled (Ryan will bring it to me), but I don't know how much I'll be able to use it due to potential cell phone restrictions. I will be at Swedish on First Hill, and they will have me in their patient directory if you call. On the day of surgery, I will have someone update the blog with info. Ryan will have his cellphone with him on Wednesday, and will certainly appreciate your calls of support, as well.
This is hard. I don't want to do it, any of it. I don't want to think about it, I don't want to plan for it, and I don't want to deal with it. I have to stuff my anger deep inside me that this is my fate, and that I don't have a lot of choices that sound good to me. I hate that my body will have yet more scars, that there are risks with surgery, that my breasts will not be as good as they once were, that I'm always at higher risk for breast cancer than others, that there are no guarantees, that I will endure great pain, that I will not be able to pick up Tessa and hold her the way that every other mother holds her child because I will be healing. I hate that, for several months, my new breast will be rock hard and unnatural looking (until the implant is placed late next fall).
I hate that tomorrow, high tech machines will be used to see if I have cancer again. I am horribly afraid. As I type these words, I can't stop the tears from falling down my face because I'm so afraid. I hate to be afraid. I want to be strong, courageous, and confidant. Instead, I feel fear. What kind of cancer could have survived chemo? What is my fate if they find cancer tomorrow? I know what I've already been through with treatment, and I am certain that it would be worse if some type of cancer is still living in my body. By the time most people read this, the MRI will be over, and hopefully I will have great news and all this worrying will be for nothing. But until then, I'm very, very afraid.
Nearly a year of my life has passed since I found my lump - it's been eleven months. For eleven months, everything has taken a back seat to cancer. I am barely visible at my daughter's preschool (and I vowed to be an involved mother!), my family very nearly fell apart through all of this (though thankfully we're doing well now), the many projects that needed doing still aren't done, and I can barely find the energy to do a quarter of the things I both want and need to do.
I hate that Tessa knows that my nipple will be removed. I hate that she knows what it's like to have her mommy in the hospital. I hate that she keeps asking, "Mommy, will you be able to pick me up?" because she knows I can't and what she most wants is for me to hold her.
I do not have time to mourn because I am in survival mode, but every now and then....like now, as I prepare for the next horror....the anger and fear and mourning leak out. I'm removing my breast to lessen the chance that cancer will recur. I do whatever I can to live a long and happy life, and hope to God that I am doing the right things. I hope that my decision to do reconstruction is the right one: the reconstruction is hard on my body, and it's vanity that's making me do it. There is no use for my breasts, but I want to have two breasts, and I'm fighting hard for that.
I pray that Tessa will not remember the fear that has lived with us for the past year, and that she will somehow learn strength from the whole experience even as she forgets it. Tessa has imaginary tigers that she takes with her when she's frightened or worried, and lately the tigers have been coming everywhere with us. I am grateful that my daughter has chosen such a strong animal for her companion, and hope that the tigers comfort her even as she comforts them, telling them the things that I tell her. It's only for a while, sweetie. Everything will be okay. We can visit in the hospital. This summer, we will have a wonderful time, playing on the beach: we'll have a picnic, then build a sand castle, and then we'll hold hands and run into the water together, laughing because it's so cold. Yes, the tigers can come. We'll keep them safe, and they'll keep us safe.
I send my love - thank you for sending your love back.
Love,
Kristina
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