With a Little Help From My Friends

On the day of surgery, we had to be at the surgery center at 5 am for check in. 5 AM. I never get up that early. It was brutal. My brother & sister both wanted to be there, so on the way once we were on site, we took photos to help them figure out where to go once they arrived. Up to that morning, I thought I was ok and at peace with what was happening to me, but, when the pre-op nurse asked me to rattle off why I was there, my voice caught and I started to cry as I said "bilateral mastectomy with sentinal lymph node biopsy." She held my hand & told me it was ok. My breast surgeon & plastic surgeon arrived and they seemed weirdly hyped/animated. Is this a surgeon thing? Does it make them excited to go do their thing? I was asked that morning by someone if there would be reconstruction, I said no. Then an OR nurse came out & asked if there should be spacers - again, I said no. And at that point, was even more nervous because what the fuck people, I told you all of this. One of the last things I recall as I was put under was Dr. O'Neill (my breast surgeon) taking charge of things by way of having someone move & taking over a task then shushing the OR nurse who had been chattering loudly away.

Then later, I woke up. One of the first things I remember is Dr. O'Neill sitting at my bedside leaning on the rail, remarking on how drugged up I was but that I had come through the surgery great, minimal blood loss. And that there had been a 1 cm tumor in the lymph node, so it was also removed. That...was not cool to hear. After she left, my brother & Jason came back for awhile. Then my sister swapped places with my brother and she sat with me while Jason went to get my prescriptions & the car while a nurse helped me to the bathroom to well, use it, as well as get dressed. I won't go into a lot of detail on that, but I wore Wonder Woman undies that day & also made the mistake of looking at the bed where I'd been laying after coming back to my little recovery area because there was blood (that my sister quickly covered with a sheet).

We had a rough drive home & I don't remember much of the first 24-48 hours except for amusing things here & there - like warning the first few people to come over that I wasn't wearing pants. (I did cover up with a sheet though, so haha.)


***

After I started telling people about my diagnosis, I received an almost overwhelming amount of emotional support from all sorts of people. However, many of my fellow clinic escorts (plus a few others who wanted to help) provided tangible, edible support. At a Planned Parenthood luncheon in March, one of my fellow escorts took me aside to see how I was and ask some questions. She said that as soon as I had a surgery date, let her know - she would organize meals for us for awhile. When I seemed hesitant she took me by the shoulders, looked me right in the eye and said "I'm Southern & Italian - LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU." (And I mean really, how can you argue with that?)

Fast forward to May. I had a surgery date & I let her know and sure as shit - she sent me a message to ask questions about food preferences, allergies, preferred meal times, etc. Within days, the entire first week after surgery was filled. Because of all these generous people, we didn't have to actually cook anything ourselves for almost a full two weeks. It was glorious. Some people cooked, some brought us take out, and a couple had food delivered to us from a restaurant. To be fair, I remember very little from conversations I had during the first few days when people stopped by - I apparently had a conversation with Serena that involved pirates and the Flying Spaghetti Monster...? (Jason mentioned it later on.) Yay Percocet!

Two friends who are medical professionals were quite helpful, one brought kick ass potato bacon soup for the first night and assessed my vitals. Another stopped over to help with questions we had concerning the drains and later brought strawberries & whipped cream.

There have been a handful of people who have randomly messaged me to check in & see how I'm coping. Words can't really express how much I appreciate that/those gestures.

Not to mention that prior to surgery people gave me books and the means to get more books (most of which I read while I was out). As I write this, I have returned to work. That doesn't mean this series will end. I still have more to say, but at times struggle with how I will say it.

This

Pre-dawn sky the morning of the surgery. Taken from our driveway.

So, I Have Cancer

Back in March, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Multiple people suggested I keep a blog/write a book/whatever so rather than start a new one, I'm gonna utilize this one! Because, y'know, it's already here. I'll begin at the beginning...

Earlier this year, my husband found..something in my left breast. We weren't sure we were really feeling anything, but I still had an order from my old OB/GYN, I contacted the new one to give a heads up. They said "oh hey, if you have a thing, you need a different kind of test; where are you going, we'll send new orders."

March 13: Mammogram & ultrasound. They confirmed we were right, then a radiologist came in & told me it looked like cancer, I needed a biopsy, but it was too late in the day to get one that day. I spoke to their scheduler who said they could get me in at 12:45 the next day, but she'd call me in the morning once they got an order. Those words - that it looked abnormal, that 95% of things that look like it are cancer were like someone sucked the air out of the room and punched me in the stomach at the same time. I got quiet & I cried. I'd gone to the appointment alone, thinking the best, that it would turn out to be nothing.

(That night, we went to a VIP pre-screening of Tomb Raider in IMAX and IT WAS AWESOME. Not related, but hey, it was a lot of fun.)

March 14 Biopsy day! We showed up to the same place. I was taken back, shown into a room and settled on a table. They had me roll to the right and placed a foam cushiony thing under my left hip. I raised my left arm, my right arm was bent at the elbow, palm resting on my torso, head was propped just so and they said "oh that's perfect, don't move!" So...I didn't. For 25 minutes give or take. The radiologist who oversaw the procedure said that if it was cancer, I'd join a club I never wanted to be part of...and also told me it's extremely common for husbands/partners to find the lumps, it's also how she found hers. By the end of the procedure I was giggly because I kept thinking about how I was laying and also this:

Pose not exact but you get the idea.

So, I explained this & it got a laugh out of all present. I then was moved to a room to do another mammogram to ensure the small marker they placed was in the right spot. On that wall - a Pre-Raphaelite print that I love that also underscored the whole paint me thing in my head. They kept assuring me they'd call the following day with results for that reason and that I wasn't allowed to shower for 24 hours, I called off work the following day. They never called.

March 16, a Friday. I went to work. I spent all day wondering, waiting. Then, at  just after 4 something in the afternoon, my cell rang. Someone said they had a call from a doctor. I accepted & soon I heard a wavery, very old voice (much like Diane Rehm on NPR) come on the line and politely explain that my results were back but it was not good news. She told me I had cancer. Then asked if I was with family, when I replied I was at work she got a bit stammery, realizing the awkwardness of my situation. We hung up. I called Jason & told him. Then went to the bathroom to cry & texted my supervisor who was at her desk. We talked & she offered support and the chance to go home early.

 By the end of the weekend, I'd told my family & many friends who I'm close to and volunteer with. The following week, I met with a breast surgeon, had a genetic test, and a breast MRI.

2 weeks later, I had a lumpectomy scheduled for 4/5 and my surgeon called on 4/3 at 7pm from her car to tell me I had a genetic mutation (CHEK2) and we needed to discuss it in the office. Next morning, we went in & after a lot of weighing of odds and scientific evidence, I opted for a bilateral mastectomy. This was a devastating thought for me at the time. I did not want to give up my breasts. I'd spent many years not really liking or resenting their size and had only recently gotten comfortable and now they were going?!? So, I was given info to consult a plastic surgeon on options.

This is enough for now. It's how it started. It felt like a runaway train at first and that feeling continued for awhile.

Comics are Tasty

In late summer 2014, I was contacted by a friend and offered the chance to write comic & graphic novel reviews for a new site/zine she was cooking up with others. I jumped at the chance because - hey, I like writing reviews and why not do it for a wider audience? Besides, like just about any writer, I like validation. To me, that was awesome validation that some of the things I've posted here were good enough for a wider audience.

I wrote about 1 item a month until June of 2015, when a car accident sidelined me for most of the rest of the year. I often shared the reviews on Twitter, tagging writers & artists of the comics. It was kind of a rush when they liked and/or re-tweeted. (It's the little things.)

I had one last item on the online boards when I noticed an announcement from them on Facebook the other day. They were changing direction. Focusing elsewhere. So I asked, "what does this mean for me?" Yup, totally going in a different direction, best of luck in the future & thank you for my contribution.

The Felicia Day review that is in this blog was that last piece. It was edited professionally, hence the editor credit at the end.

I'm proud of the work I did for them. I'm so grateful to have had the experience of being professionally edited, too. It has made me a better writer, even if sometimes it stung. I am pretty disappointed about how I found out I would no longer be needed, but, I guess that's how it happens sometimes.

The bright side: that same evening, I got a message offering me an opportunity to write for the site Eat Your Comics! They're a local site that covers, well, comics...and a host of other nerdy, pop culture things. Currently, it's a labor of love, but hopefully one day we'll all get paid. Just getting things set up with them now & hopefully I'll have something up for them soon. When that happens, I'll be sure & post a link here.

In Memoriam, Michelle MillerAllen

Yesterday, I felt nostalgic and wanted to share my recent writing successes with a mentor I had in high school. I looked up her production company, shot off an email. Then I clicked on their link for news and learned something that rocked my foundation.

She had passed away in April of this year.

Back in 1994, I was a junior in high school and, among other things, was part of the gifted program. We were told someone local was interested in mentoring a student and I ended up with the opportunity. Then I met Michelle Miller. She was the author of at least one locally published novel as well as a playwright. The idea was to turn a short story I'd written into a novel. That never ended up happening, but she did teach me some useful things. Like, know your characters - write a biography or at least an outline of what they're all like and who they are. That I should write even if I had no goal just write for the sake of writing. She gave me a book on writing, Writing Down the Bones, that I still have to plow through because, well, I was a teenager, and it was sort of dry. (I'm honestly still not sure how I was able to pass considering the stated goal was never accomplished.)

We ended up continuing our meetings through the summer and into the next year because we'd become friends. It felt, looking back, almost like a big sister/little sister kind of relationship. We'd still talk about writing, but we also talked about life. She taught me many things...
about bagels & lox
the joy of blueberry bagels with cream cheese
espresso drinks.
crazy indie art
craft fairs
that heartbreak can (and should!) be viewed as "a good learning experience"
decent restaurant seafood
how amazing a small group of artists can be together
the importance of being independent and not taking crap from anyone
to be brave enough to buy (and wear) crazy purple boots
about playing 3-way chess
about having confidence to be who you are

There are more things that I can't quite put a name or description to, but suffice to say, I feel my life is much better and richer for having known her. My husband and I went back to New Mexico in the late '90s and attended her wedding. We continued to correspond into the early 2000s, but sometime after her husband and partner lost a battle with cancer, she moved to Scotland in 2005. According to an item I found yesterday, she settled in nicely and began working towards improving the environment in her new home.

She was a wonderful, vibrant, fiercely independent woman with a kind heart and fabulous sense of humor. If you're so inclined, her books are currently listed on Amazon and Hunger in First Person Singular is definitely worth a read.

Fare the well, Michelle. Here's hoping you found light, love, and peace on the other side!