Drain Tubes Out!

Today I was finally able to meet Jean, my surgeon's scheduler. Here is a picture of us together. After the procedure, Mark and I went in search of her, with a small bouquet of white roses. It's amazing how you come to rely on key contact people when you are having medical issues. I really wanted to say "hello" face-to-face after all these weeks and a big thanks.

The appointment was at 9am. Barbara, the nurse practicioner, was great. She gave me a stern talking to about over-working my right arm and what to watch out for in terms of future trouble with the lymph nodes. Our agreement is that she would take them both out if I agreed to take it easy for several more days. She gave me the OK to start with the rehab of my arm/shoulder. She said absolutely no downward dog, no inversions for a while.

Pulling out the tubes was freaky. I had no idea that one of them was 9" long; the other was shorter but I didn't look at that one. It was creepy to envision that running alongside the incision. She cut out the sutures, then told me to take a deep breath. Whooosh, she pulled it right out. I felt like a character in the movie "Aliens". It didn't exactly hurt, but was the strangest sensation, as if my body were being pulled inside out. It was so great to shower without those tubes safety-pinned to my yoga belt which was draped over one shoulder. I also look forward to sleeping on either side now.

Strangely enough, even though it was a huge relief and felt like a milestone, I had a huge energy crash right after the procedure. Walking up the stairs of the train, Mark said I turned white. I suddenly felt light-headed, weak and exhausted. That feeling of exhaustion has lasted all day.

I watched my sister's kids for a few hours in the afternoon, but it was literally watching them from my perch on the couch. Fortunately my aunt was here who has the spirit of a Montesorri teacher. They were having lots of fun but we did not get to work on the Shanghai tags as I'd promised.

A late afternoon practice revived me somewhat. Now that the tubes are out I can work in earnest on my rehab. It's actually quite painful to stretch those areas. Barbara said to do these exercises 3 times per day.

So the upshot of today is that I am quite tired and humbled by the task at hand, which is to recover strength and flexibility in my right chest/shoulder. This body has been through quite a beating over these last few weeks with back-to-back surgeries, so now I must put aside my to-do list and let the healing take place. A hard task indeed.

What's Next?

Tomorrow I will have at least one drain removed. Yesterday #2 drain yielded a serious amount of fluid so I called the surgeon's nurse practicioner this morning to see if I should still go in tomorrow or wait til next week. She said, "have you been active with your right arm?". I sheepishly answered, "yes". I didn't explain about the long walks, active yoga practice and time in the studio, feverishly preparing labels for Shanghai.

Over the course of the last few days I have realized that the discomfort isn't at the site of the incision or the tubes, but really along the underside of my arm. Where the lymph nodes were removed. Because I am no longer worried about over-taxing the incision, I feel more comfortable with the exercises as given by the surgeon and general yoga practice. Each day I find more ease in range of motion. That's so encouraging.

The surgeon should call anytime now with the pathology report from the mastectomy and lymph nodes. There will definitely not be any more surgery -- a huge thing to be thankful for. I hope to never go through that again. The only really significant piece of information will be the lymph node status. If the report shows a lot (not sure what the technical level is) of lymph problems, I will need radiation as well as chemotherapy. If the report shows a low level, I will not need radiation. I guess at this point it doesn't matter a whole lot either way about radiation. That's probably just my ignorance about it.

Mark has spent most of the morning putting the garden to bed. Have I said often enough how amazing he has been? I don't know how I would have managed without him. This post includes a photo of him with one of his favorite toys, his little green tractor. Everytime we drive on Route 2 we pass a used tractor store. I imagine that soon enough he will have a big one, too.

I have been enjoying my meditation these last days with Buddha Girl. Yesterday Mark helped me build an altar. We used a short lidded wooden chest that is from his parents' house. I have just a few things on it, including the rock bear from Kate, a candle, some rocks and a live jade plant. It is becoming my happiest place in the world. When I sent metta to Narayan today, I felt as if I were once again swimming in an ocean of love. It felt wonderful to connect with that big energy. It has been the first time in a while, probably since I learned that I needed a mastectomy. I thought maybe it had gone away forever. I am grateful to be able to dive in once again, and fervently wish that everyone could have even just a taste.

Metta Retreat in February

Margrit, my dharma sister, called yesterday to tell me about a week-long metta retreat at the Insight Meditation Society in Barre, Massachusetts. The retreat will take place from February 1-7 and will be led by Sharon Salzberg. I was introduced to metta practice many years ago by her book entitled "Lovingkindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness". Narayan was trained by Sharon 30 years ago in metta practice. The IMS web site is www.dharma.org. I think that we will both go and I encourage anyone else who is interested, to consider it too. I honestly don't think I could have handled this health crisis without yoga and meditation practices firmly in place.

It feels just right to be in the country now. I have been obsessed about these drainage tubes but a few days ago I drew great insight from the trees. I began to think of my body as a strong maple tree, and the drainage tubes as the taps on the maple trees in late winter. Just as the taps free the sap, these drainage tubes are ridding my body of unnecessary fluid. I notice that when I do my yoga practice and take long walks, the fluid really flows. And that is a good thing. I have an appointment to get them removed Friday morning.

Narayan was right about sending metta to our difficult person. My uncle has been and continues to be the most difficult person in my life for the last 30 years. She said that if we get into "the story" we will have a miserable week. Is she ever right! It's hard to keep sending him love when so many memories flood my mind. I can safely say that he has been the bane of our clan's existence all these years. But I keep going with it, knowing that the idea is to purify one's heart to love without exception. Our last class is tomorrow night and I will be very sad to see it end.

Yesterday I had a wonderful yoga practice. Usually on Tuesdays I practice twists, and low and behold, was able to do some. I again was shocked at this beautiful body and what it willing to do to heal. I was able to get into regular triangle pose with the top arm extended in the normal position, but even more surprisingly, was able to get into revolved triangle with the top hand on the hip. Then followed that with a reclined twist -- I was able to do that but the right arm needed to remain much below should level. Today's practice was just as miraculous. I am really focusing on my shoulders. Using a belt, I can just about lift my arms straight overhead from the front. The side extension is much more limited. I can get my right arm above shoulder position, but not much higher. That will take some time. I can clasp my elbows behind my back with no problem. Also bringing the elbows (elbows bent at 90 degrees) completely together and out to the sides is difficult but I can almost extend all the way to the sides. I'll be back to handstand in no time.

Maybe one I'm through with all this, I will devote myself to teaching yoga and meditation to breast cancer patients. I have been teaching prenatal yoga very happily for the last 7 years, but this cancer recovery has totally captured my attention. I also think it would need to be taught 1-on-1.

Today I will work on the Shanghai label-making project. I have a lot of labels to make over the next few weeks. I have invited my sister's kids to help me on Friday. They are collage fiends and very happy to help "auntie" with a special project.

Finally, many who read this blog have told me that don't know how to post a comment to the blog. I am brand-new to blogs, too. I think you just highlight "comment" on the bottom of an entry and you're in. Any comment you leave, others can read. If you want to contact me on my private email, my address is lola@lolart.com.

Sitting With Buddha Girl

We decided to drive to our farm yesterday as the drains must remain in for at least a week. I have an appointment Friday morning at 9 to have them removed. Again, another wait. It's disappointing as the sites continue to be uncomfortable and I am really fearful of them somehow ripping out. Yesterday I used a special camisole (my doctor actually gave a prescription for it) that has inside pouches for the drains so that is at least a little more comfortable. I feel like a kangaroo.

It's quite beautiful here now. It's past-peak but this is my favorite season. Kind of spooky with dark skies and leaves on the ground. The visual equivalent of classical music in minor. Yesterday we went for our usual walk along the dirt road, 3.8 miles round trip. It was definitely a challenge, but it felt good to breathe clean air and rid my body of hospital-ness.

Meditation practice followed our walk and it was great as I did it at dusk. I lit candles and sat next to Buddha Girl. I noticed that she has no breasts at all. She is just wrapped tightly. She is majestic with the most excellent posture. She continues to inspire me. This week our homework is to send 10 minutes of metta to self, 10 minutes to our benefactor and 10 minutes to our difficult person. It is lovely to send metta to Narayan. The first time I met her was in mid-August, prior the cancer. I loved her at first site. She looked like an angel, dressed in white with curly blonde hair cascading past her shoulders. She gave the most beautiful class, and I knew from the first moment that I wanted to study with her. I approached her after class and we had a short talk about how I could study with her and she recommended the October metta class. As we parted, she admired my Buddha necklace and in an act of complete spontaneity, I offered it to her. And she accepted it.

Yoga practice has definitely been more challenging than after the lupectomy. The incision is 9" -- we measured it yesterday. I am numb around the entire site, which explains why I'm not in too much pain. I started again with my legs up the wall for 10 minutes. My chest felt tight so each breath I tried to open a little more. Eventually the incision site softened. Then I moved to table for 15 breaths. My right chest felt challenged even by that. Then I attempted to pick my knees off the floor, and surprisingly was able to do that for 15 breaths as well. Each practice I work with range of motion in the arm/shoulder and see a little progress each day. I am now able to bring my arms straight out to the sides at shoulder height. Bringing them forward I am able to get them above shoulder height but by no means much higher. It is humbling to be in a different place physically. Mark asked me yesterday as we drove out what I wanted to do these next few days. I said I wanted to learn to love my body again. So that's what I'm doing, breath by breath and pose by pose. I am practicing patience and self-love, my new definition of yoga.

Today I will meet with the Shanghai MOMA team and we will start to make our tags. Lucy was just in Shanghai and emailed pictographs which I will use on my tags. I can't figure out how to show them right now but will get Mark to help and will post them soon. Thanks Lucy!

Zendai Museum of Modern Art, Shanghai

A few days ago I'd mentioned this project, so will go more into it now. Aren't we all kind of tired of thinking about incision wounds and drains?

In July Anne received an email from a friend about a call for proposals from the Zendai Museum of Modern Art, Shanghai. This year (2008) they are running a project called "Intrude 366". Anne invited 3 of us to collaborate with her on a proposal. Here was our submission:


INTRUDE 366
PROPOSAL

TITLE: EYE TO EYE

PARTICIPATING ARTISTS

Anne
Alicia
Deborah
Lola

Proposed Venues:
We propose that this performance take place in a public space that serves as portal for people entering, leaving, or moving about Shanghai. We have identified the following locations as potential venues: Hongqiao Airport, Shanghai Main Train Station, Shanghai Main Subway Station, Thumb Plaza in the International Pudong New Area

Preferred exhibition date: Any in, or past December 2008

This project has not been previously exhibited and was created specifically with the intentions of Intrude 366 in mind.

“Eye to Eye” is a North American expression that means two individuals (or groups) agree to acknowledge each other’s viewpoints. It is a courageous act to see “Eye to Eye”. It causes one to open oneself to the possibility of new thinking. It is a step towards standing on common ground and arriving at mutual understanding

In this time of cross cultural exchange, it is more important than ever that this concept of seeing “Eye to Eye” be promoted. For Intrude 366, four American artists using the simplest of means, and drawing on over 2000 years of Eastern and Western art history, will construct a strand comprised of 734 visual representations of eyes sourced from centuries of evolving culture. (366 on front and 366 on back)

In “Eye to I”, we will use standard 4.25 inch long shipping tags as surfaces. Onto the front and backside of each tag’s surface we will print or paint image of eyes culled from the canons of art history: From anonymous portraits painted in 3rd century c.e. Central Asian cave paintings to the expressive eyes of Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, to the stylized eyes of Warhol’s celebrities, and to the piercing eyes of Frida Kahlo’s self-portraits, each of the participating artists will select eye imagery, enlarge them to fit the each side of a standard tag and transfer them to the surfaces using traditional and non-traditional painting and printing techniques such as linoleum block prints and Xerox transfers. Strong visual impact and unity will be produced through the use of the standard surface and by maintaining a restricted palette of blacks, reds, and golds. Each tag will have one Eastern eye and one Western eye - adding another layer of the original concept of Eye to Eye.

The resulting Eye to Eye strand will be held out at chest level with one of the participating artists holding the first tag at one end and a partner artist based in Shanghai holding the first tag at the other end. This will result in approximately 650 meters of these historic images being exhibited. Once the entire strand is on display, pedestrians will be invited to cut a tag from either end. As this performance takes place the three accompanying artists will be documenting the performance through video and photography and inviting the public to participate, facilitating the cutting away.

Each cut tag that people take away will serve as a talisman towards seeing eye to eye. And with each tag that is cut, the two representatives from the East and the West will take one step closer to each other. When all 366 tags have been cut and given away, the two artists will stand firmly and confidently, physically and emotionally: Eye to Eye.

In Summary, the Eye to Eye project collapses the past with the future. It places us in the present to combine images that may be obscure with images that have saturated contemporary culture. Eye to Eye underscores the commonality between East and West.

Using the simplest of means, Eye to Eye offers profound possibility for forging a rich collaborative cultural vision for the future.

We received an acceptance email from Zendai MOMA on Thursday 10/23, the day before my surgery. So now we are all in a flurry to make travel arrangements, figure out how to pay for our expenses, and creating the tags. Deborah did a few as a mock-up, but we now need to produce over 90 tags each in short order. I was so surprised that the project was accepted as it was very competitive to get in. Let's see what my red-haired vixen oncologist says about this -- I am sure I will be allowed to travel. This time I will make sure the visa is in order so I don't have a fiasco such as in trying to get to Brazil last month.

And on a medical note, the drains are producing little fluid, under 30cc each per 24 hours. So now I can get them removed. I hope to go to the clinic today to get that done, so we can spend the rest of the week at the farm. I am so pleased with my body -- it is up for the task of a record recovery. If there exists a Guinness World Record for recovery from a mastectomy, I think I'd be a contender. I am grateful to my amazing surgeon, my amazing husband, ever-expanding concentric circles of love and my body which remains strong, strong, strong.

Taking a look

Here is a collage that I finished last night. It's entitled "Sonnet by Kenneth". I've been focusing more on collage lately than painting.

Today I feel a little clearer and stronger than yesterday. And of course the night I came home (Friday), I was as high as a kite. At the time I felt I was lucid, but the next day I realized how out of it I was. I made a lot of phone calls on Friday and stayed up really late listening to my i-pod. I have some sense of who I called, but not entirely. I think I called my primary care doctor (on her office phone) to tell her about my surgery. I told Mark that if I ever go under general anesthesia again, to take the phone away until my brain cleared a little. It's kind of weird to experience yourself lucid, only later to realize something else...

Yesterday I saw myself naked for the first time since surgery. Mark changed my bandages and drained the tubes to prepare me for a shower. I was really scared about how I'd react, and how he'd react as well. I was quite surprised that it looked better than I'd expected. Which is not to say I'm cool with it. I'm reading "The Magic Mountain" by Thomas Mann (and have been reading it for months now). The main character Hans Castorp spends 7 years in a TB sanitorium in the Swiss Alps prior to World War I. He describes living in a sanitorium as "getting used to not getting used to". Maybe it will be like that for me.

Physically I'm feeling OK. Yesterday we took a walk and will attempt a longer one today. I was able to do my meditation practice and a modified yoga practice as well. I have to be careful because the two tubes are stitched in temporarily and it would be a bad scene if they rip out. The tubes can be removed once the liquid collected is under 30 cc in a 24 hour period. I am hoping that I can get them removed tomorrow at the surgeon's office. We went to a store yesterday and I was self-conscious that the drains would be visible under my shirt. So I am really wanting to get them out.

This week our meditation practice is to send metta to self for 10 minutes, to benefactor for 10 minutes, then to the "difficult person" for 10 minutes. I have switched my benefactor to Narayan and have chosen my uncle as the difficult person. I don't want to say too much about him as I am really trying not to expose anyone or make negative comments. I will say this about him: the first time I did it on his behalf, my breathing was very shallow and quick. I felt as if I were suffocating. What an amazing practice that you train yourself to open your field of awareness of others and lessen judgement. Truly transformative.

I'm home!!

Everything went really well yesterday. The surgery took about 2 hours. I had a great team. I was discharged around maybe 7pm. I didn't push for that decision. They could see I was fine so signed me out. I did not go AMA.

The photos posted here are of my good friend Jeff who met us at the lobby of the Wang Building on our way in. The second is of anesthesilogist Aurora. The third image is of Tilo who works at MGH. He was there for my last surgery as well. He so kindly brough me a coffee which the nurse wasn't too happy about. It tasted great. They all gave permission to post the photos.

They administered so many drugs! The OR is a great place if you are a big fan of prescription drugs which I am not. They administered some kind of benzo at first, then moved on to Vicaden, Haldol (did they think I was psychotic??) Demerol. And whatever else they use. The attending anestheiialogist and the whole team calls me Lola. He asked if I was ready to drift into Wonderland. I think he knows about my blog. My drug collection at home has mushroomed from Ativan to Percocet to Vicaden, none of which take. However, I am taking 10 days of anti-biotics.The curious thing is I feel less pain now than the first surgery. I suppose that could change any moment, though, considering the medical cocktail I got yesterday.

Last night Mark insisted that I park on the couch until bedtime. I rarely park anywhere as I'm usually in motion. I teased him that I would re-do the hospital forms that asked if I was in an abusive or controlling relationship. Like, "My husband is taking incredibly good care of me, occasionally telling me to use my left hand and to rest. " Speaking of Mark, he's an amazing man. Mr. Unconditional Love. I feel so lucky to be with him.

I have yet to see "the new me" . The drains (I have 2) aren't nearly as disgusting as I'd imaged.

Thanks everyone who was/is sending love and blessings. It makes a huge difference. In fact, it makes all the diffence.

A life without Love is of no account
Love is the Water of Life
Drink it down with heart and soul

---Rumi

Indra's Net

This morning when I woke up the image of Indra's Net came to me. Indra's Net is a Buddhist metaphor to describe how all phenomena are intimately connected. Indra's net has a multifaceted jewel at each vertex, and each jewel is reflected in all of the other jewels. My first thought was that today is my surgery, and my second thought was to envision Wendy out on Whidby Island wrapped in her prayer shawl, sending me metta at the right time today. Then I began to think about all the people who are praying for me. I am on many, many prayer lists of all persuasions. I imagined many spots on the planet lit up with prayer. Lucy in Shanghai; Otto in Berlin. I am so blessed to have such a network of love. That brought up tears of joy and gratitude.

Last night I had an interview with Narayan who I now call my Teacher. We met just before the metta class. I have been searching although ambivalently for a teacher for years. I had prepared a short list of questions for her, one of which is how you find a teacher. I said that the first time I met her in mid-August it felt so true, so right. She said that when you get a very strong feeling about a teacher, then you should follow that. I asked if she would be my teacher, and she said she would. I described my intermittent awakening states, and she said that what I describe indicates that I am on the path. She affirmed that it is not scary, it is not the death of self. My main question for her is how to let go and fully accept what will happen today, ie mastectomy. She gently reminded me that you don't own your body. That I have done my best to take care of it, but that one never owns it to begin with. What a relief. She then described the two wings of spiritual practice, compassion and wisdom. Both of these are to be applied in my particular situation as well as in general. She also said that a breast won't impact that which is indestructible, the nature of the heart. She suggested a ritual for last night which was so helpful. She reminded me that everything is energy which nothing can destroy; it just changes. Finally, she said to practice metta in the OR for myself and the team, but also to open myself to receive all the love that is being sent to me today. What an interview. Wow.

During walking meditation, Mark whispered that he would walk behind me. I could feel his presence, watching me and supporting me. As we walked around the room and by the altar, I had this sudden feeling that I fully accept this. I surrender. I let go and it felt like a huge relief. I am ready for what is to come.

On the drive home Mark came up with a beautiful way to think about this. He said, "you could just thank your breast for it's sacrifice. By it's letting go, it will allow the rest of your body to be healthy." Funny, spiritual teachings at every moment.

Surgery tomorrow at 1:30pm

Jean, my new friend and the scheduler at MGH, called this morning with my time for tomorrow. I check in at 11:30am with surgery to start at 1:30pm. So please send me an energy blast at that time. The procedure itself should take about 1.5 hours, same as last time. I may or not stay in the hospital tomorrow night. My sugeon said that if I'm not in too much pain, that I can safely go home. I would stay in the hospital only for pain management. We have someone set up to be on-call to drive us home in that case. Thanks Jolyon!

So what does one do the day before? I have to say I've had a lovely day. I meditated, practiced yoga. Had lunch with a friend. Went to a wonderful shop in the Village and bought a yard of pleated ribbon which I have fashioned into a groovy headscarf. I am pretty sure I don't want a wig. In fact, I know I don't. So Mark and I having a little levity by wrapping me in various scarfs and hats. He abhors 'the cancer look' so we're trying to be creative. The number I have on today certainly fills that bill. I made friends with the clerk and she hugged me as I left the store, wishing me luck. After she told me all about her mother-in-law in Ottawa who has cancer... Tonight I look forward to the inteview with my meditation teacher, Narayan. She is giving me such a gift as if usually takes months to get a private interview.

I've been reading Peggy Huddleston's book "Prepare for Surgery, Heal Faster". Initially I didn't like it; I tend to avoid self-help books. However, I've come across some very helpful ideas. For one, she suggested that you visualize how your body will look/feel once healed. So I am imagining a clean white line where the incision will be. I imagine the skin smooth and soft. I did some drop-back backbends yesterday (against the wall). I haven't attempted that in some months as backbends are challening to my body type. I did it because I felt compelled to, and also to remind myself that my body will return to this condition of strength and flexibility -- including my chest and shoulders. I will have one more practice in the morning and will see what kind of practice I am called to do. Probably backbends again as they are so strong and life-affirming.

She also suggested that you come up with some ritual to say thank you and goodbye to a body part. I'm kind of struggling with that one. Maybe Narayan can help with that tonight. I am reflecting that I was perfectly happy with my body as a child. I had no breasts (of course) and didn't yearn to "develop" until early teen years when every other girl was. As a kid I loved to ride horses (still do), swim, play tennis, turn sumersaults down steep hills. I will still be able to do all that after the surgery. The other thing I'm thinking is that whether or not your have breasts has very little if anything to do with who you are. My friends don't think I'm cool because I have two today and will have one tomorrow. And of course I put no value whatsoever into other people's bodies. The thing that attracts me to others and them to me is the shine of the eyes, the spring in the step, the saying "yes" to life.

I'd like to share some unexpected, wonderful news. Last summer 4 of us women friends from western Massachusetts put in a proposal to participate in a project at the Museum of Modern Art in Shanghai. This morning we were notified that we were accepted! We are to do our piece in December. It will be a performance piece which will take place at some plaza. I know absolutely nothing about Shanghai so will need to bone up a lot. Here is the web site: www.zendaiart.com. The program is called "Intrude 366". I will write about it in detail another time. I will try to coordinate the trip with chemo treatment. Now that's something to look foward to!

I also hope to take a trip to Costa Rica in March with Wendy to study with John Friend for a week. Coincidentally, the retreat starts just as my last round of chemo will end. That will be a wonderful way to celebrate.

Incision and drain care

Yesterday a package came in the mail from the Gillette Center for Breast Cancer. It included this brochure and diretions for where to go on Friday. This time we skip Nucear Medicine and move right on to Surgical Day Care Unit which is in another building from the first surgery. If you haven't been to Massachusetts General Hospital, it is like a city unto itself. I've heard there are something like 20,000 staff members if you include all sites. Anyway, the brochure has a goofy subtitle, "... compassionate care for women and their families facing the challenges of breast cancer". I had been told about the drains, but when I saw the photos, I freaked out.

This is so gross but I feel compelled to write about it anyway. I wish I had jpgs of the pictures. Or maybe not. So at the surgery she wil insert at least one drain which is to remove fluid from the area of the incision. Drains are soft, plastic tubes inserted into the incision and attached by long tubes to a suction ball. The fluid collects over a 24 hour period. The amount slows over time and the color changes from red to reddish yellow then to yellowish white. Maybe I can match the colors to my paints and give them better names like cadmium red, or maybe alizarian crimson. perhaps English red, or madder rose? There are so many shades of red. Kind of like my lipstick collection. So while the drains are in which is 7 to 14 days, I will need to care for them and write down the amount of fluid that collects. The brochure contains a chart to fill in. So weird.

Once the drainage is less than 30 cc in 24 hours, I go to clinic and have the drains removed. So every day I will need to "milk the drain" so it doesn't clog. So you squeeze and pull downward to push the fluid down the tube. When the tube is full, you dump it down the toilet. The dressing must be changed daily. I don't know how I will manage this. Mark said he'd do it and my sister has stepped up, too. It's a good thing they don't tell you everything at the beginning because you could never do it. Maybe you'd just opt out.

With each passing day since last Tuesday my sense of dread increases. I wake up early in the morning with anxiety. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I cry a lot. I cry during meditation when I say to myself, may I be safe and protected. In a certain way I feel that God has forgotten me, that I somehow slipped into a crack where I am not protected. How is this allowed this to happen? Like that book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People". I really don't spend too much time thinking about this whole topic, but of course it crosses my mind. The "why" of all this. I also cry when I think about the little kids in my family. Shayna has been told in a lot of detail about this, and it saddens me enormously when she looks at me with her huge blue eyes full of worry. On the other hand, I feel Presence very close, very acutely. And I know that I have not been forgotten by God.

In yoga we finish our practice by bowing to each other and offering the the word "namaste". This means that the Divine in me honors and bows to the Divine in you. Yogis believe that we all carry within us a spark of Divinity. I believe this with all of my heart. And I feel that the love of God is reflected in all the love I feel at this point in my life. I have never been to open to both give and receive Love. I continue to live in Grace.

the consultations - part II

Here is my beautiful oncologist. I call her the red-headed vixen which Mark thinks isn't a nice. I call her that as a huge compliment. She said it's OK to use her name which is Dr. Anne Patridge from Dana Farber. We met yesterday at "the dana" after the surgeon's appointment at MGH. We were really late so I was glad that she accommodated out tardyness. She asked me not to take notes, just to listen. So I have little detail as I am going off the notes she handed me at the end. And my memory for this kind of detail is sketchy... so here's what I can reconstruct.

Starting Monday November 24, I will see her every other Monday morning for chemo treatment for the next 4 months. Which puts us into March. I will start on "AC" for the first 2 months, to be followed by "Taxol". After that, I may need to do post-mastectomy radiation. The radiation piece will be determined by the post-surgery pathology of the 2 sections of lymph node dissection. If I have more than a certain number of "bad" lymph nodes (I forget how many would trigger the need for radiation), then it will be required. Finally, I will need 5 years of Tomaxifin which will suppress estrogen. She said that the AC will definitely cause my hair to fall out. So no need for a haircut this month. Unfortunately you still need to shave. Isn't that a bummer? You'd think that it would at least take that off your list of self-care. She also said that when it's being administered, the staff wear gloves as it's so toxic that they must use protection. And that's going into my body for 4 months?? Then the potential long-term side-effects are also pretty terrifying. Such as leukemia, stroke, blood clots, high blood pressure. I can't remember the rest. That's it in a nutshell.

There was also some discussion about being a candidate for a research study that is looking at a new drug that has been helpful for other types of cancers. My initial response is that I want no more treatment than I need and am not interested. My oncologist said she might push me towards it if the future lymph node study shows extensive problems. Mark read through the information but I just leave it on the table. I'll look at it later if she recommends it. Otherwise I'll leave that be. I have enough to do for now.

How do I feel about all this? It's still surreal. How much things have changed since I found that lump on Sunday night, August 17. At that time, a part of me wanted to just not mention it to Mark. I knew that if I did, he would force me to get it checked out. A part of me just wanted to hide from what my fingers sensed. And from the ominous feeling that started at that moment. I've had lots of hard times in my life, but entirely in the realm of family drama/trauma. Never anything health-related. This is uncharted for me.

I am thinking a lot about what it will feel like to lose this breast. For now I am enjoying it/them. Yesterday while riding my bike, I would shift the position of the right shoulder way forward to see if I could create the sensation of no skin against my camisole. Kind of practicing in a weird kind of way. I am enjoying the feeling of sleeping in all positions with no restriction or pain which I initially experienced after the lumpectomy. This morning Mark pulled out the mastectomy camisole that we picked up yesterday at The Dana. The surgeon had given me a prescription so I didn't have to pay, but the insurance company will pay $72 for this modified undergarment. It's for home use after the surgery. It has velcro down the front and is made of thick comfy cotton. There are 2 layers; the inner layer can accommodate the tubes I'll be walking around with for a week or so. It also accommodates the fake breasts that you can use. So I am preparing as best as I know how to.

the consultations - part I

Mark and I were up at 6am and took the T to MGH for our 7:45 am appointment. In a nutshell, we both felt slightly better about my prognisis but I still will need a mastectomy and 4 months of chemo. It's kind of hard to feel really good about that, yet given that it would be a lot worse... maybe it's all kind of relative.

The surgeon told us that the tumor was grade 2 which means between slow-growing and fast-growing. Initially we were told it was slow-going. The cancer is considered stage 2 because the mass was over 1 inch. Here's the technical description: I am T2 (tumor size); N1 (1 positive node). M0 (no evidence if distance spread. There are cancer cells in the one lymph node she pulled, but they still consider that "regional".) I feel like a border war.

Next, the margins: our of 6, only 1 was clear. Not too great. The other 5 were at the edge.

But then she says my prognisis is "excellent". For her, it's not a bad scenario. I am considered intermediate grade; estrogen receptive positive and HER-2 negative. Go figure.

As far as removing more lymph nodes, she will take only 1 incision for both the breast removal and the lymph resection. Apparently she excavates a chunk of flesh which could include between 3 and 25 lymph nodes. They don't take them one at a time as in the first procedure; they cut a swath. I will have a drain in me for 1 week (isn't that gross??). There are 3 swaths (these are my words, not hers). She will take 2 of 3 which will still leave me with some lymph in the right arm. The more they take, the more vulnerable you are to future problems such as lymphedema and infection in the future. She said I can't really use the arm for several weeks. But how will I do my yoga practice? She kind of winked and said I can do what feels OK. Potentially this lymph procedure can leave permanent numbness.

Recovery time... 3 weeks minumum. So I'll be out of work til mid-November or so.

When she stepped out of the room, I saw written on a form that the procedure is called modified radical mastectomy. Can't they come up with a better descriptive name? It remind me of the jokes we told as kids about jumbo shrimp and military intelligence and such.

She gave me a script for a mastectomy camisole which I picked up later at Dana Farber. That's a whole different story. I can barely absorb this much of the morning, so will pick up with the consult with the oncologist tomorrow. I will start 4 mos of that the week of Thanksgiving. So more on that tomorrow...

Today we plan to ride our bikes to Forest Hills Cemetery. It's cool and bright here in Boston so might as well get out and enjoy it!

Way of the Hyacinth

*Way of the Water-Hyacinth*

by Zawgee

Bobbing on the breeze blown waves
Bowing to the tide
Hyacinth rises and falls

Falling but not felled
By flotsam, twigs, leaves
She ducks, bobs and weaves.

Ducks, ducks by the score
Jolting, quacking and more
She spins through—

Spinning, swamped, slimed, sunk
She rises, resolute
Still crowned by petals.

The meeting with John Friend was wonderful but a little different than I'd anticipated. I thought he woud juice me up with a shakti transmission or something like that. Rather, we saw in facing chairs in his hotel room and talked about many topics. I felt teary initially but was able to settle down. He is fully present. It's quite something to be with someone like that. I felt totally seen and heard on many levels. We talked for about 40 minutes. I brought him some home-made apple crisp and some organic apples I'd picked a few days earlier. Mostly he confirmed what I'd already been thinking, feeling and experiencing. He encouraged me to continue writing as a way of discharging energy. The other suggestion was to ask myself what I'm most afraid of to begin to dilute and address the fear. The main thing I fear at this point is waking up to a heavily bandaged right chest with no breast. I keep imagining that over and over. It's haunting. He encouraged me to think of my body as whole, even after the surgery. And to make sure that my yoga practice feels good and right. I left feeling that he really is my teacher. I said that my next course with him will be somewhere beautiful like Berlin or Paris. He liked the idea of Paris. He offered to call me Sunday after the surgery. I can't believe it -- he gave me his cell phone number. This yet another example of the amazing outpouring of love that I am witnessing now. I am in experiencing Grace.

We are anticipating our meetings early tomorrow morning. I hope to have much more information about prognosis and such, but at the same time am getting a little jaded, knowing that I'm in for a long, long ride. And that information keeps changing.

the good friend and neutral person

My blog skills are getting a little better so now I have figured out how to post images. Many people liked the Buddha Girl story, so here she is!

I'd like to continue to discuss my new passion, metta meditation. This week we were introduced to the category of "the good friend" and "the neutral person". The good friend differs from the benefactor slightly, because inevitably friendship has its ups and downs, expectations and disappointments. Like the decision to make Shayna the object of benefactor focus, it was easy to choose Lucy as the good friend. We have known each other about 24 years. We met when we both worked at a software company in the early 1980's in Cambridge. Lucy has been with me through the vicissitudes of my life as an "adult". I was at her house when I got the call from the surgeon on Tuesday. We had spent a lovely day together with another friend with a long walk along a dirt road, yoga practice, a trip into the past at an old-fashioned drug store with an ice cream stand inside and collage-making on her big dining room table. A beautiful, memorable day. When the call came, I felt enveloped by her love and support. I was very upset, and she stayed up late with me and even offered to let me wake her if I had a difficult night. I feel so blessed to be surrounded by both old and new friends. She has provided an abiding friendship and a sense of family that I lack in my own life. So this week's practice is devoted in part to her.

The second category is "the neutral person". As Narayan said, it's hard to find someone who you truly feel neutral towards. She suggested that the person be someone you see on a regular basis, but have no relationship with. Again, immediately I thought of one of the clerks at the East Cambridge post office. I see her fairly regularly as I send out artists applications and buy stamps there. She knows I am an artist and knows that I always need the envelope with return postage for slide/cd return. I don't even know her name. Last time I was in there we discussed the benefits of short hair when going through "the change". In my meditation I call her "Mary Ann".

So this week's homework is to send metta to self for 10 minutes, to the good friend for 10 minutes and to the neutral person for 10 minutes. It's an interesting practice to shift attention a few times throughout. Narayan says that practicing sending metta to a neutral person is the gateway to moving out of the personal and into the collective.

Next week I think we will move into "the difficult person" and it's even easier to make that selection. My uncle, yes, that uncle. It may be too much to lie in a hospital bed and wish him well. Now that will be challengning.

I love this practice!

Asking for help

The pathology report came in the mail yesterday which we'd requested from the surgeon's office. I didn't open it when it came but Mark did when he got home. It scared me. We read about the sentinel node and it mentioned positive metastisis. The surgeon told me on the phone on Tuesday that there were tumors in it. I slept badly and am up early this morning with worry. It's kind of crazy, but suddenly I'm getting really concerned about all this. Really concerned. All along I've been feeling really positive but am now wondering if I'm really in trouble.

I'm starting to call in what I consider the "big guns". On Sunday I will have a private meeting with John Friend, a well-known yoga teacher who I
have studied with over the years. The first time I met him in Northampton in 1999 or so I felt an immediate connection. He will be in Boston next
week teaching a week-long teacher training that I had planned on taking. I emailed him a few weeks ago to let him know that I couldn't attend, and
asked if I could meet with him while he's here. He most generously and surprisingly agreed to see me. Initially I wanted to talk about using
asana to support myself in preparing for and recovering from this next surgery, but also the spiritual aspect. I've felt that something is
happening over the last weeks, some sort of spiritual opening or awakening.

Here's a portion of the email I sent him:

"In the midst of all this, something very interesting and special seems to be happening. I can only describe it along the continuum of awakening to
love. Never before have I felt like this. It started around the time I got diagnosed. I can go for hours or even days with this sense of almost
indescribable love. I feel expansive but grounded. Sometimes things look different visually, especially in nature. Colors are brighter, more
intense. It's kind of not even color, it's more like energy. Since I started yoga 15 years ago I have had a terrible fear of having 'something
spiritual' happen. Now something is definitely going on, and I have no fear. Just a sense of wonderment. I feel I have been given a glimse of
something beyond the ordinary, and it's incredibly, almost indescribably beautiful. I do it no justice with words. I feel joyous, free, happy. It
comes and goes."

Here's a portion of his response:

"I am sorry that you are being challenged with this serious medical issue,
yet at the same time I am so happy that you are more connected to Spirit. Many times
a life crisis triggers the soul to respond in the highest and it sounds like that is happening to you. It is a real spiritual opening that you are
describing and it is what awakens to the soul to the highest experience of life. Although the medical intervention is serious, you are blessed to be
experiencing the highest taste of life's essence which is the radiant love and joy of the heart."

I was so relieved to read his words. I found affirmation, support for a very new kind of experience. I am grateful to him and am looking forward
to our meeting Sunday afternoon. 

Last night the meditation class was great. It was the 3rd class with 2 more to come. Valerie, a artist friend who is a member at the center told me that the teacher, Narayan, offers metta on one's behalf if you ask her to. She has an amazing generous, loving presence. I so much enjoy being in the room with her. After class, I waited in the long line to speak with her. I explained very briefly my medical situation and she enthusiastically agreed to add me to her list. I also touched on this spiritual unfolding and she offered to meet with me 30 minutes before class next week. I am so amazed at the generosity of others.

So I am gathering my energies and that of others to prepare for what's coming.

Self-care

I feel fortunate that I am able to tap into so many things that are healing and helpful. This morning I attended a yoga class which was taught by my dear friend Liz. We've known each other for about 15 years and traveled to India together in 1998 to attend Mr. Iyengar's 80th birthday. The class felt wonderful, as if tailored to my particular needs at this time. She taught a few poses that I'd kind of forgotten about so I will add those back into the mix.

It's definitely been a hard couple of days since getting the surgeon's call on Tuesday night. It's a lesson in attachment -- I was attached to the idea that the lymph node was clean. So now I am suffering due to my attachment to an idea/outcome. It's very hard to not hold onto hope, but to just be in this, in the moment.

Tonight I will attend meditation class which I've looked forward to all week. (See, another attachment!) I loved the practice over the last week, sending metta to self and my chosen benefactor, Shayna. This week I'd guess that we'll move on to the 'neutral person'. Have you ever encountered anyone you've truly felt neutral towards? Usually we have a strong feeling one way or the other.

Other than yoga and meditation class, today's other healing balm was a chance to have a tea party with my sister's 3 young kids. We spent the afternoon together on the back deck drinking chamomile tea and eating caramel popcorn. Shayna doesn't miss anything, and told me that she's worried about me. I don't want her to worry about such things. But little kids are sponges and nothing escapes their notice. I am so grateful to have them in my life. They asked what happened to Buddha Girl; they were disappointed that she's moved out to the farm house. But I promised they can visit her (and me) soon out there.

Surgery date 10/24/08

I spoke to the surgeon's office this morning and have scheduled surgery #2 for next Friday. By now the assistant knows my voice and I told her that from now on I'll just introduce myself to her as Lola. We got a little laugh out of that. It's definitely not a great thing to be on a first name basis with a surgical oncoloigist department. But given what is, it's easier to have some familiarity rather than just a patient ID number.

My surgeon also offered to meet with us, so Monday 10/20 Mark and I and hopefully my sister will meet with her at 7:45am at MGH, then head over to meet with the oncologist at 9am. Mark wisely asked for a copy of the pathology report so it will be mailed out to us today. I feel fortunate that he is able to think of all the things that don't occur to me. We will probably be unable to make sense of the report, but Mark's style is to do lots of research. I am kind of the opposite. The only research I have done to date is that the day I got my diagnosis, I looked up the definition of invasive ductal cardinoma and ductal carcinoma in situ.

I won't know the time of the surgery until a few days before. I guess they like to keep us in suspense. This time will require an overnight stay or two. I am still trying to come to terms with this next step.

My yoga practice is almost 100% back to normal. Today I tested the waters and felt comfortable with several urdhva dhanurasanas. I am kind of shocked that I am able to do all this so quickly. The only remaining question remains pinca mayurasana which has always been a huge challenge. There is still a sense of tenderness at the wound sites when I move in particuar ways, but just normal walking around I have no sensitivity whatsoever.

the call I've been waiting for

I had a different idea for today's entry. I had intended to call this entry "Touched by Grace" and to explore this most interesting state I've been in and out of since my initial diagnosis. It's kind of hard to describe but I will just tough lightly on this today. In spite of having cancer, I have been feeling the 'happiest' ever. But that's not quite the right word. More a sense of feeling completely at peace, and of feeling entirely at home with myself and all else. Almost a transcendent state of Grace. But that's for another time.

Tonight my surgeon called to say that the pathology report came back and the news is not god. Not at all. Initially the sentinel lymph node was clean and I was very happy about that. The full pathology report shows that something is wrong. I was too addled to understand exactly what she said, but she will have to remove more. The margins were not clean, so I will need a mastectomy. She invited Mark and I to meet with her, which we will certainly do. My sister will go with us, as she did the first consultation. The surgeon says that I will need 4 months of chemotherapy after the next surgery, then radiation and 5 years of hormones. I'm afraid I'm in for the full Monty.

The transcendent state dissipated with that phone call tonight. I don't want to be too negative, but I know this will be very hard. Mark said it's time to do battle now. I will probably be scheduled for next week. This lumpectomy has been a breeze and I feel fantastic. I can only hope the next one will be as easy to recover from.

It's hard to even say how I'm feeling. I was expecting the mastectomy part, but the lymph node involvement scares me. It was a different story last week. So this part is kind of a shock. I will travel back home tomorrow after spending a very long weekend in western Massachusetts where I've been able to enjoy the season in it's full glory.

Buddha Girl

A few weeks ago I was biking through Boston University and I saw an intriguing sculpture in the gallery window near the BU bridge. I called the art department and was given the email of the teacher. I learned that the piece was made by a freshman. I inquired if it was for sale, and she suggested $50. We arranged a time for pick-up and she [buddha girl] fit perfectly into my car. We had to separate the figure from the lotus base, but she indeed fit. I will post a photo of her in the near future. She is life-sized and made entirely of recycled cardboard. I am in love with her. Initially she was at home in the city. The nieces and nephew were uncertain what to make of her. One night we lit some candles and did some "meditation"; remember that the kids are 3, 5 and 7. It was mostly giggling, but it was fun. The 7 year old Shayna showed me how to sit in lotus. I asked who showed her that, and she said she learned in school. I wish I'd gone to a school like that!

Friday we transported her out to the farm, and now she sits beside me in my meditation/yoga space. She fits just perfectly, right under the angled roof line in the corner. She's great company. Today is warm so I noticed the cardboard smell which got me to reflect on the nature of her impermanence as well as mine. She is rather fragile, held together with glue. In spite of our Western idea/denial that death, illness and old age will never knock on our doors, it's here knocking on mine. One day her body will give out, as will all of ours. Her smell of cardboard also triggered some difficult memories that are associated with moving boxes. While growing up, we moved innumerable times. I have what you could call a phobia of moving boxes. That smell freaks me out. So now I'm sitting with my beautiful cardboard buddha girl and all that she evokes. I am rooted, yet ephemeral. She's a reminder, a personal metaphor. I love her.

my benefactor

In meditation class on Thursday, the teacher reviewed the first practice, which is sending metta to oneself. That first week she asked us to send metta to ourselves for 30 minutes per day. At class, the discussion was most interesting. She had said that for some, metta to self is the hardest practice. The Dalai Lama once commented to a group of students that Westerners are filled with so much self-hatred. That was definitely reflected in the students' comments about the first week of practice. Many commented that they felt undeserving of love or that it brought up much sadness about lack of love in their lives as children or as adults. It brought up strong longing for a greater connection to oneself. For me, it was a perfect practice week. Not to say that it was easy. It takes a lot of concentration and determination to find the time and commitment. I will always remember lying in wait for the operating room, being so comforted by the metta practice. What a god-send.

This week we shifted into focusing on the second practice, which is sending metta to a "benefactor". A benefactor is preferably a living person, usually a teacher or mentor. The teacher suggested that you choose a benefactor for whom you feel pure love, not a conflictual or ambivalent relationship. Then she mentioned it could be a child, a pet. Immediately my 7 year old niece Shayna came to mind, and I thought, this is an easy choice. She has always been the love of my life. I would lie myself down to avoid any harm to her. I am absorbed in love when I look into her enormous blue shiny eyes. She calls me "auntie". When the doctor called to give the cancer diagnosis, among my first thoughts was that I wanted to live to see this angel grow up. The instruction this week is 15 minutes of metta to self, then 15 minutes to our benefactor. So I am devoting my practice to her this week. She has been such a blessing.

I continue to feel great. There is still some tenderness at the incision sites, mostly under the arm. Yesterday Mark and I took a long hike in the woods and I felt very energetic. Maybe even more than usual. There's a huge hill and I was not winded in the least. We walked at sunset. We're in peak leaf season so the colors are fantastic. Some leaves have fallen so there's a sense of spaciousness as you peer into the woods. It's very hilly here in western Massachusetts. They don't call these "hill towns" without reason. At some points we walked in shadow, other times with a view of the blue sky. Early this morning I accompanied him to take photos on our dirt road. I'll post a few once I learn how to do that. Lucy says she'll show me how to do it. Thanks Lucy!

I'm trying to stay in the present moment -- but find my thoughts being drawn towards next week when the pathology report will come back. My 3 year old niece spontaneously said a few times to my sister this week that "auntie is not sick, auntie is fine". She was a bitty sized mother hen when we went out together on Thursday morning, making sure that I would not be left behind in the house and staying at my side the whole time as we did errands. Like a little guardian angel, very concerned about auntie. Maybe her intuitive self is shining out, but on this one I am bracing myself for the results and recommendations. Mid-week the surgeon should call. The following week 10/20 I meet with the oncologist. I'm afraid that so far this has been the easy part and that the real challenges lie ahead.

Control number 25359

"Security personnel and law enforcement notification. This patient has undergone a nuclear medicine procedure involving a small quantity of short-lived radioactive materials on 10/7/08. The residual radiation may be detectable externally. Expiration date 10/10/08. Control number 25359."

This is from the little card my surgeon gave me on Tuesday. She shot me up with some radioactive isotopes and told me that for up to 72 hours, I could set off an alarm that was sensitive to radioactive materials. So if I were traveling through an airport and set off an alarm, I was to show the 'authorities' my little card. So as of now, 72 hours later, I am no longer emitting anything. Isn't that the craziest thing?

I am feeling SO well. Sleeping well and waking refreshed. Enjoying all the delicious food that has arrived at the doorstep. Thanks everyone!!

I have ventured into a fuller yoga practice today and am absolutely amazed at how much I am able to do. Usually on Fridays I work on backbends but as I'm not completely off my rocker, I didn't venture [much] beyond the preparation poses. Cobra as well as supported poses were absolutely fine. Arms over the head with arms straight, no problem. I am following sensation very closely and am backing off immediately with any indication of 'oohhhh'.

Mark and I are heading out to our weekend place. I may stay a few extra days. The garden is pretty much passed but there are still some tomatoes, herbs and beets to be had. I look forward to some solitude so I can paint and continue with the collage book.

Namaste

back onto the mat

I woke today feeling much, much better. We removed the gauze bandages, and everything looks really good. The steri-strips stay on for another 2 weeks. The surgeon did an excellent job. She cut along the top side of the nipple. Other than that line, you can hardly tell that anything was done. The incision under the arm is the bigger one. That's actually causing more discomfort as it interferes with moving my arm very well. But already the range of motion is much better.

Yesterday I did a very, very modified asana practice as well as meditation. This particular meditation practice is a god-send. It feels so right. Tonight is the second class and we plan on attending -- all 5 of us friends who signed up. Even Mark!

For you yogis, here was my practice sequence yesterday:
legs up the wall, 10 minutes. Helpful to open the chest and shoulder
table. It felt strengthening to bear a little weight on my right hand/arm
vajrasana with shoulders drawn back gently
uttanasana
tadasana with focus on the shoulders, then lifting arms up to the side
low lunge
baddha konasana with block between feet
upavista konasana
fire logs
long savasana
It was wonderful to move and feel my body other than as a vessel of discomfort

Yesterday was sunny and warm so a few friends stopped by and we sat outside on the back deck. Mark and I also took a very short walk.

I'll do practice today after lunch, and plan to attend meditation class tonight. Our little group will meet before class for a light Indian dinner.

At Home - Come Visit!

Much to my surprise, we indeed were in and out of the hospital within 6 hours. We took the T to the hospital and were driven home by a good friend and her husband. They also brought us the makings for a homemade spaghetti supper. By 7pm we were back home and Mark insisted that I park myself on the couch. Indeed I did stay there as I felt a little uncomfortable at the incision sites but mostly a little woozy. Another friend had left a feast of Vietnamese take-out which was waiting in the refrigerator.

It was a surreal day. It started with a frenzied quest the night before to procure EMLA cream. I rather hastily read the orientation letter Monday morning an made a mental note to find EMLA cream. To my annoyance, when I got the the first pharmacy I had forgotten the name and was playing Hang Man with the pharmacy staff with them trying to guess what I needed. All I could remember was that it had 4 letters and used for breast surgery. They must have thought I was totally off my rocker. I later called the surgeon's office and she gave the generic name of lidocaine. So Monday Mark and I visited several pharmacies in search of lidocaine. No such luck other than a product with a silly name such as "Cool Off" or something like that. It had trace elements of licodaine. I called the surgeon's NP yesterday morning and asked what I should do. The NP was on vacation. As we were walking into the hospital, the triage NP called my cell phone and said it wasn't necessary, that lots of surgeons didn't ask for it. Another case of much ado about nothing.

We were told to check into nuclear medicine. I questioned the staff a few times to
make sure I was in the right place. I was assured it was; they informed me that my surgeon would give me the injection in the breast with nuclear isotopes. This was to light up the lymph nodes so she could easily identify thesentinel node. As we waited a long time, we took lots of pictures of my breasts. When the surgeon came in, Mark took pictures of the two of us as well. It was kind of fun, wondering if the curtain would whoosh open and we'd be caught. Funny the things you do a alleviate both stress and boredom. Mark also did I-touch research about the kind of isotope. Always the information hound. He was saying funny things like, "why are they injecting radiation? I thought that caused cancer?". He also thought we should buy a geiger counter so he can find me easier.

Eventually I was led to a pre-op room, then wheeled down an endless hall to OR 36. I waited alone in the adjacent room and waited for "Tory" to wake up. It was kind of spooky listening to theanaesthesiologist calling her name numerous times. I felt like a voyeur and also a little frightened for myself. Finally the anaesthesiologist came in. I was expecting a senior staff as arranged by my friend who is a professor in that department; he was out sick. The replacement appeared to be about 20 years old. I was a little reassured to learn he was 32. We had a funny discussion about my friend the professor being "connected"; the young doc said my friend is "more connected than connect the dots". He also told me that his wife had been through this same procedure and is now fine. All this put me quite at ease. I also practiced metta as I waited.

So it all went fine. The shiny news is that the lymph nodes appear to be clear of any problems. The sad news is that although she's not certain, the surgeon told Mark that the margins do not appear clear to her naked eye. She said the edges appear "grainy" so she expects that I'll need a mastectomy. All to be decided when the pathology report comes back in 5-7 business days. I'm still processing that last bit of news so don't have anything more to say about that.

I have to say it doesn't come as any surprise, though. My intuitive skills have sharpened over the years. From the moment I found the lump, I had a strong feeling it
was cancer but also that it wouldn't kill me. My sister shared the same feeling from the moment I told her. As I was lying in the adjacent room yesterday, I visualized the lymph nodes as clear. This just came to my with no intention to do so. By the same token, I had the strong sense that the edges were not clear of the mass. So when I was told, internally I said, "I know already".

Clean lymph notes encourage me greatly. I have so many painting yet to do, many prenatal yoga students to teach and a strong, strong desire to grow along with my nieces and nephews . At home last night I was in tears of joy, reflecting to Mark how I feel surrounded by boundless love. This is all exquisitely beautiful in a dark kind of way.

The Big Day

I have been waiting for today for what seems like a long, long time. Check-in time is noon, the surgery at 2pm and from what the letter says, I can exect to be discharged between 4 and 6pm today. Mark and I were again entertaining fantasies of riding our bikes down to the hospital. We have decided instead to take the T. A few friends plan to stop by the hospital so we'll catch a ride home with someone. Mark suggested that we have a party in the waiting room. OK, I love parties! I am strangely calm about this. I know that going under general anesthesia is potentially dangerous, but I feel no fear about it. Many people have recommended the Peggy Huddleston book entitled "Prepare for Surgery, Heal Faster". I did read a little of it but my copy arived too late from the library. Oh well. The worst part is no food/drink til it's over. That means I am coffee-crazed already. Mark promises to find the best coffee in the hospital and have it ready for wake-up time.

The specific procedure for today is lumpectomy with sentinel node biopsy/possible auxiliary lymphnode dissection. What the second part means is that while I am still on the operating table, the surgeon will remove the main lymph node under my arm and someone will run it down the lab. A tech will take a quick look at it. If it looks to be 'clean', she sews me back up. If it shows problems, she will do a more extensive surgery on the lymph nodes.

I'd like to close with this heart-felt aspiration. This is an excerpt from Tricycle Magazine, fall 2008 issue, written by Christina Feldman. It's slightly edited. She writes, "a teacher was asked, 'What is the secret to your happiness and equanimity?' She answered, 'a whole-hearted, unrestricted cooperation with the unavoidable.'" Ms. Feldman goes on to comment, "this is the heart of mindfulness and compassion. To no longer hold ourselves apart from the unpredictable nature of all our lives; it is to cultivate a heart that can unconditionally welcome all things. We bow to what is, to all of life. The bow is a way to the end of suffering, to an awakened heart."

homework

The meditation teacher has asked us not miss a class as it's just 5 weeks, and also to practice 30 minutes every day. We sat Thursday night in class for that amount of time, and it was really a challenge! Even physically my back got a little tight, to speak nothing of the mind. But I am committed to this relatively new practice, so will have to make the time. This week we are to focus on sending metta to ourselves.

I have been practicing yoga daily for 15 years and at this point my yoga practice is about 45 minutes with an additional 10 minutes for meditation. So this is a shift to add this extra time. Meditation practice is relative a new thing, just since March.

I had noticed a huge benefit from just the 10 minutes a day, and am wondering what kind of energy this will bring about. It's kind of interesting, the timing of all this. I don't know how I would have managed these last weeks without these tools in place. Going into the MRI machine is an intense, scary experience. Now I've done it twice. I breathed deeply and slowly throughout the long scans, and got my respiration down to about 7 cycles per minute. Thanks to my practice.

Speaking of practice, what better thing could I be doing now? When I say silently, "may I be safe and protected", it speaks directly to the upcoming surgery. I have total confidence that I will be protected and well cared for. The phrase "may I be peaceful and happy of heart" supports my willingness to accept what is with some level of grace. As I wrote in the last post, I feel so supported emotionally. The phrase "may I be healthy and strong" particularly resonates at this point. Getting cancer has been a shock on many levels, but particularly in my sense of myself as an extremely healthy person. My sister and I describe ourselves as having the constitution of a horse. We really never get sick. I ride my bike to work and can hike/snow shoe or whatever the activity is for hours. I completely trust that I will once again describe myself as a healthy horse. And then "may I be free of suffering". A Buddhist teacher, Sylvia Bornstein, has written "pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional". That really resonates. This is a difficult thing, but have choices about my response to it.

Surgery is Tuesday, and I fully expect to be on my cushion on Thursday night, drinking in these teachings. I continue to feel blessed.

metta now

Today the surgeon's office called and gave me the surgery details: I check-in at noon on Tuesday and surgery will start at 2pm. This eases my mind a little; I've always liked having a plan. The waiting is the most difficult aspect so far. And of course the uncertainty. The letter that arrived yesterday said that you typically go home 4-6 hours after you check in. That seems rather quick, given that it's major surgery. In any case, I'd rather be home than in a hospital bed. I had fantasies that it would be postponed somehow... so this is good news. A good friend is a professor in the anesthesia program at MGH, and he will make sure that I'm in good hands. Another huge blessing.

The love continues to pour in, and also pour out. I am totally blown away by the response of so many dear ones. I never knew that this much love existed. Really. I feel like I continue to fill with boundless love. The first month after the diagnosis, I felt as if I could not contain it all. I was in some kind of bliss state. Kind of inexplicable. Everything seemed heightened and almost unbearably beautiful and precious. I felt totally in love with life. Last week when the results of the MRI came back showing serious concerns, the love state shifted into fear and sadness. That was a difficult week. But since then the surgeon called again and says we're back on track with surgery on the right side only which will be limited to a lumpectomy. So I'm OK with that scenario. I don't have much fear about the surgery itself, but more about the results that will come back 10 days later which will consider whether she got clean margins, lymph node involvement and size of the mass. All that determines whether there is more surgery and what kind of treatment. But we'll cross that bridge later.

I got an email from my lawyer who a self-described atheist. Even he has started praying on my behalf. I cried as I read his email. Many have offered to put me on their prayer group lists. I'm pretty well covered by every type of spirituality imaginable. And I truly believe I can feel it. Just now my husband handed me a gift that one of his colleagues sent to me. She sent a zunni fetish, the bear, which represents protection and healing. Bears are associated with the color blue and is known for curative powers. They represent strength, courage, adaptability, healing and spiritual communion. Isn't that perfect for cancer surgery? I have met this woman a time or two. That's it. How to explain all this? It's unimaginably beautiful. I am moved beyond expression.

Last night a group of 5 of us friends joined a metta meditation class at the Cambridge Insight Meditation Center. I had signed up before the diagnosis and had been looking forward to it for weeks. I have been searching for a teacher for many years now, and feel that I've found her. The room was packed to capacity. A common theme is that we all need more lovingkindness in our lives. It was very interesting to hear everyone's motivation for attending. Even Mark joined the class. I am so happy about that. This morning we were up at 6 and practicing together for 30 minutes together. It set a beautiful tone for the day.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I have never had much interest in having a blog until of late. As in August 25, 2008. That's the day my primary care doctor called and told me that I have breast cancer. Invasive ductal carcinoma and ductal carcinoma in situ. I came up with this blog name while driving home from work today. When people ask how I feel, I say, "kind of like Alice in Wonderland".

That's really how it is. Until the day I found that lump, I was living my 'old' life. Since then, my 'new' life has begun. It's a really different world, the cancer world.

I had this largely unconscious view that my lifestyle would protect me from any "lifestyle" diseases. Somehow cancer had never been on that list of diseases I was avoiding. And now it's here. Totally without warning. No family history. I am just in the beginning stages, a real newbie. I am waiting for surgery on Tuesday October 7. I'm not sure which hospital but am guessing MGH. Nor the hour. I hope I get an early slot as the caffeine withdrawal will be probably be a bear.

I'm also writing this as many friends have asked how to communicate in the upcoming weeks. My dear friend Lucy offered to set this up, and I thought it was a great idea. So hopefully tomorrow I will know where the surgery will be and at what hour, so the prayer wheels can really start spinning.

Namaste.