How are you?

This is a short week as Friday is a holiday. I am looking forward to heading out with my daughter to second hand stores to search for bargains. We love to scan the racks to find that perfect slightly used jacket, shirt or dress.

As I look at each item, I always think about the life of the person who wore that piece of clothing before it was donated to charity. What is their story? Sometimes my daughter and I recreate the imaginary life of the previous owners. We give them names, talk about what they are like, what job they do, how many kids they have.

Everyone has a story. Everyone is interesting. How many time do we ask, “How are you”. People predictably answer, “Fine”. I like to follow up with, “are you really?”

Asking that second question, make the initial inquiry genuine and gives people the permission to tell you a little of their story. I find it fascinating and I always learn something.

Everyone has a story.

Working on the Bones

Spent two hours in the gym today. Working on the bone density. They say you need to do weight-bearing exercise. so my work out consists of walking and weight training.

Given how much post menopausal weight I have - you would think lugging it around would leave me with bones of steel.

Walking my way to health

Vitamin D

Having a lazy Saturday. Listening to music, browsing the web, catching up on email, sipping coffee, cat on my lap purring. The sun is coming out - birds are all out there wooing each other and in full song.

I am going to sea wall today - need to get a dose of Vitamin D.

Tons of new research coming out on the benefits of the sun and the fight against cancer. Funny we have been told for years to stay out of it due to the risks of skin cancer. Now they are saying that the lack of vitamin D, especially in Northern countries like Canada and the northern US, and the increase instances of Breast Cancer could be linked.

Dermatologists are probably freak'n' and peak'n at the recommendations of researchers to expose our unprotected skin to the sun. Sun and skin still posses a risk of skin cancer.

Now the experts are not telling us to torch ourselves so that we look like poster models for cooked Atlantic lobsters. It is more like 10 minutes before we run screaming into the shade.

I think the best advice came from my old county doctor, "everything in moderation"

Only one thing worse than finding a lump - not finding the lump

You did it, didn’t you?

I asked you yesterday to encourage others to do a Breast Self Exam (BSE). I hope you did. You did a BSE on yourself too – right?

I just heard from a gal pal that she decided on a whim to have a mammogram. They found calcification. She has had it taken out and it is in pathology now - as she says, "sliced, diced, dyed green and squeezed under a microscope". Her docs are saying she is lucky because they caught it early.

Early detection is a leading cause of survival.

Preoccupation

I have never paid much attention to breasts, other than my own as I would do a monthly breast self exam. It was not until I was diagnosed and had one of mine removed that I started to notice the breasts of other women. I was not noticing them in the aesthetic sense but rather in the clinical.

I knew the statistic that said 1 in 9 women would be diagnosed with Breast Cancer in her life time, so I would think, “does she get checked by her doctor, does she do breast self exams (BSE), does she get screening mammograms?”

Today, I would like each one of you reading this to call a female friend or relative and ask her, “when was the last time you did a breast self exam?” or if she is over 40, “when was the last time you had a screening mammogram?” If it has been awhile or never, encourage them to get a mammogram or to start doing BSEs.

If it has been awhile for you – please get preoccupied by your own breasts and learn how to do a BSE. Here is a link if you need help getting started. http://breastselfexam.ca/

Check yourself out.

Growing Old

The trees are in blossom here in Vancouver, BC, Canada. The crocuses are past and daffodils are all displaying their brilliant yellow. There is still the odd morning with frost on the windows, but Spring is in full swing. I love this time of year. People are emerging from the warmth of their homes, you get to re-meet your neighbours in the garden and generally the mood is optimistic and cheerful every where you go. The last couple of days have been filled with positive experiences on every front.

I was in a convenience store a couple of days ago, waiting in line and watching as an old gal shuffled to the cashier. She was struggling as she walked, arms filled with her purchases. She had eggs, milk, hot dogs and a loaf of bread. This was likely the closest store to her home so she was doing her shopping.

She dipped her twisted fingers into her small change purse and pulled out a couple of crisply folded bills to pay for her things. She clutched the bills as if they were her last and I thought they probably are.

I asked the second clerk for a lottery ticket (always hopeful) and the women overheard, saying, “oh yes, I should check mine”. As I paid for my ticket, I heard the lottery machine chime the 'WINNER' song and the clerk announced to the old gal, “you have won $60!” The line up, which had grown substantially, erupted in cheers for the old gal. Everyone knew this was a big deal for her. It left me feeling very good.

Yesterday, as I stopped waiting for a red light to change, I saw a frail elderly women waiting to cross the street on the other side of the intersection. She waited, leaning on her cane, for the light to change. You could see her anxiety as she waited. She was afraid to cross.

My light turned green, I drove through the intersection and pulled over. I jumped out of my car, dashed across the street and offered the woman my arm. She looked up at me and beamed a toothy grin. All of the tension in her body disappeared as she took my arm and we stepped onto the street. I got her safely across, left her side and jumped back into my car.

As I drove away, I reflected on both of these women, playing forward my own life to when I am that old. Breast cancer robs some women of that image. The fear re-occurrence can be debilitating, keeps us focused on the disease and the ‘what ifs’. I am reminded that life is about living in the moment and enjoyed every breath we take. I will be old one day – I am certain of it.

Sharing positive karma.

Hormones and Bone Density

Osteoporosis is a risk for any woman, especially those who go through menopause early.

With my being diagnosed with Breast cancer at 41, it also meant taking all of the cancer and hormone crushing drugs. Before my 42 birthday I had successfully been catapulted right through menopause. I have been on various hormone controlling drugs since.

Unfortunately, these drugs are pushing me in the wrong direction with my bones. My last scan a couple of weeks ago indicates that I am in the Osteopenia range in my results. That is pre-osteoporosis.

So I have just downed my glass of calcium & vitamin D orange juice, will chew a couple of calcium tablets and off to the gym. Got to do that weight bearing exercise.

2% of Breast Cancer cases are men

We have a WCBCF Board meeting occurring in Hamilton in the beginning of June. Our Chair, Leila Springer, has asked that the marketing primes get together with some of the marketing business leaders in advance of our meeting, including meeting with the Hamilton Tiger Cats football team.

I am sure many people do not know, that 2% of diagnosed breast cancer cases, in Canada, are men.

So here is the question of the day, "do you think we can all 61 football players on the team roster to do breast self exams?"

We could change the name to chest or pectoral massage for the guys.

GO TIGATS!

Mind, Body and Spirit

Last night I attended the Vancouver 2010 Paralympic opening ceremonies. It was amazing! It was not just the spectacle of the event. It was the inspiration of the message.

At one point in the proceedings we were told two stories. Both stories were about overcoming adversity to make a difference.

The first was about Rick Hansen. In a wheelchair, Rick’s mission was to raise money to find the cure for spinal cord injury and to make communities fully accessible and inclusive. Through Rick's Man in Motion tour he was able to, not only raise money, he significantly change the views of people over many continents. He was able to reach people so that they could look beyond the wheel chair.

The second was Terry Fox. Terry was diagnosed with bone cancer at 18. While going through treatment, he was so moved by what he witnessed others endure, many children, he decided to run a Marathon of Hope to raise money for Cancer research. Terry had lost his leg to cancer, but that did not stop him from his determination to run across Canada. He started in Newfoundland, Canada.

Terry did not finish the marathon himself, as his cancer returned, but now his marathon is completed through others, as it is run once a year in 30 countries.

The emblem of the Paralympics is three agitos (Latin for "I move"), that encircle a centre point which reflects the bringing together of athletes from all over the world. Like Rick and Terry, these women and men have overcome adversity to be the best they can be. Through mind, body and spirit they prevail.

It made me recognize the power we all possess as individuals no matter what the cause or the message. We all have the power to inspire. We can all make a difference.

Oh gosh – I have to go and get a tissue now.

WCBCF Program

I saw the draft of the Program details today. Wow! This is getting very exciting. We already have many of the key notes confirmed.

We seem to be quite ahead in our planning. I know the last Conference in Winnipeg was amazing. Hamilton is looking like it will be pretty spectacular. There will be steak and sizzle.

Our director of entertainment has been connecting with people from Hollywood. Can't wait to see what she has up her sleeve (other than an arm).

Let's jump back to the present

So reading this blog - I am thinking "and where is that quirky humour?"

I thought I would jump to the present for now, we can get back to the story later.

I went to see my plastic surgeon today. Yes, I am still having surgeries. Although you don't know yet - I had radiation as part of my treatment. As a result, the reconstruction surgery does not quite work out as the surgeon plans.

My surgeon had an intern with him today. The two of them sat there staring at my 'new one' and my 'old one'. The truth is that the 'old one' is doing as nature intended (sliding down my chest) and the 'new one' is a bullet.

My surgeon is happy with the results, but it looks like there is more fat graphs required. The skin is still sticking to the muscle at the lymph dissection site.

Do you think it would be too much to ask to have the fat moved from my buttocks?

Waiting

For any one who has been through any kind of diagnostic testing, you know the process. You are tested – you wait – you worry – you wait – you worry some more – you wait and then you hear the news.

For me I decided to cut out the worry bits. I figured “what is the point”. If I turn myself inside out with worry and hear, “it is nothing” then I will think, “why did I waste all of that energy worrying?” Or I could hear, “I am sorry it is Breast Cancer” then I will think, “why did I waste all of that time worrying?”

Worrying wasn’t going to change the outcome, be it good or bad, so I just carried on living. After all, I had a fabulous 5 year old daughter to have fun with and a new man in my life. It was Spring and everything was in bloom. Life was looking pretty good. I had never felt healthier or more alive.

I thought I would have to wait two weeks, but the Radiologist must have taken a shine to me because he expedited the results. A week later my doctor called me to her office. I knew the results were likely not good or she would have told me over the phone.

When I arrived, she met me at the door (very odd – you usually wait in the waiting room with a bunch of people who are really sick – I still was not sick – at least in my mind). We went into the examining room and with a grim face she said, “I am sorry Kim, it is Breast Cancer”. I think she was taking the news harder than I was.

I did not miss a step. I just looked her in the eye and said, “Well, I guess we better deal with it then”. You would think I was talking about lancing a boil, when I think back now. The enormity really had not set in. Funny thing is – even now – I still don’t think it has. Maybe that is a good thing.

I was booked to see the surgeon one week later. The wait was over – for now.

"I don't feel sick"

You've got a lump

The ultrasound was a non event. The technician used something that looked like a computer mouse to move over the breast. She continually took pictures. I knew because she would click a button and the machine would beep. 10 minutes of beep – beep – beep – beep – beep – beep – beep…

The Radiologist came in and repeated the process. Beep – beep – beep – beep – beep…. Once he was done, he said, “I want a biopsy of this before Sunday”. It was Wednesday. The next day I was back for my biopsy.

They did a core biopsy. This is when they insert a needle into the offending lump and extract a tissue sample. It is a bit different from a needle biopsy because the needle is a bit bigger than the standard needle. The good news is they freeze you first, so all you feel is pressure.

I quietly reclined on the examining table, while the Radiologist did the procedure – he took two samples. When he was done, he said, “Well you took that well”. With my usual humour I replied, “oh – if you would like you can do it again and I can get hysterical for you”. He smiled and responded, “I mean you seem very strong and I thing you like things straight” then continued with, “You’ve got a lump, it’s got to come out, don’t delay and expect the worst”.

What do you say to that? Looking back, I am grateful for his honest blunt approach as it mentally prepared me for what was next.

The Mammogram

The doctor felt my little lump, which was now the size of a small shelled almond (which felt more like a cantaloupe to me). Two days later I was at St Joseph Hospital, scheduled for my diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound.

Now for those of you who have never had a mammogram I must say it is a little daunting (and no it does not hurt or at least it did not hurt me). You are asked to remove your clothing from the waist up and to put on one of those attractive little cotton hospital gowns. No deodorant or antiperspirant, because it can create flecks on the mammogram image.

Here is the delicate description of a mammogram. You step up to a machine that has two horizontal plates (for lack of a better description) at about chest height. The plates can be adjusted to the height of the patient (I have included a photo of a mammography machine - they all look a little different but this gives you the general idea).

Your breast is situated on the lower plate, then the upper plate (which is clear) is lowered onto your breast, squeezing your breast against the lower plate to flatten your breast as much as possible. The flattening of the breast tissue allows the technician to get a clear image of the breast tissue (an x-ray). The picture is snapped and the machine automatically releases pressure. The process is repeated on the other breast and then they do it all over again, except the plates are vertical. Very simple, quick and rather uneventful.

Here is my version of the mammogram. I get undressed and immediately start to sweat. Remember no antiperspirant. Before I step up to the machine I am sweating so hard I am starting worry that if there is any electricity involved I could get electrocuted due to an electrical - water (sweat) contact. The technician hands me a tissue to dry off a bit (this is one those hospital size tissue that are about size of your palm). I need about half a box to successfully dry off. The technician then takes my breast and places it on the lower plate. Now these people are really amazing because if they think there is breast tissue on your back it is in that machine (technically your breast tissue is from your collar bone, to lower rib and goes around your side and up under your arm). This process is really a feat of acrobatics.

The plates are lowered and you watch as your (in my case a 36 DD) is flattened to thickness of a pancake and looks freaking enormous. You are pinned in the machine.

The technician tells you not to move. I am thinking – I am trapped in a mammogram machine and could not move if my life depended on it. Then the crazy thoughts run through my mind: What would I do if there was a fire? Will my breast stay this shape? Crap I am sweating so hard I think I am slipping out the machine and she will have to do this all over again. Where are those darn tissues?

"Help, I am trapped in a mammogram machine and can't get up."

Within a couple of minutes is all over. She asks me to wait while she checks the film to make sure the images came out clear.

A moment later she returns, can see that I want to know what she has seen and that I am full of anxiety, which I thought I was hiding miraculously well until I just about faint. Yes, I just about pass out. Now wouldn’t that be a pretty picture - lying on the floor, in my glamorous cotton hospital gown, flattened pancake boobs, in a pool of sweat. Arg. She immediately recognizes the signs that I am about to go and she hands me a cup of water and gets me to put my head between my knees for a moment. I regain my composure another moment later (if composure is actually possible in a hospital gown).

She leads me into another room, where I can lay down for my ultra sound. The room is cold but I am sweating like I am in Tahiti.

The 'Find'

As I mentioned in my first post – I am a survivor. Of course being a survivor means there is a story. Mine begins when I was 41. I actually did have a life before that age – which has it’s own interesting twists and turns but I’ll start with the ‘find’ today.

It was March 2003 and I had a visit with my doctor for my annual clinical breast exam and other various pokes and prods (you know girl stuff – this is when the guys all leave the room). As I was getting dressed she asked me if I wanted to go for my annual mammogram (I was entitled to one annually through our Government health care after 40).

I think I looked at her like she had a third eye because she said, “I can’t force you to go, but it is a good idea”. I hesitated and responded, “I don’t think so. I have no risk factors – no history - why waste the government's money. You didn’t find anything and I am pretty diligent at doing my own monthly breast self exam (BSE)” and I left the office feeling like a million bucks.

Life gets busy, but I always took time to do my monthly BSE. I knew the process – do the exam 10 days after the onset of your period – had the shower card with instructions. In May I was late doing my exam. It was day 14. As I soaped myself up and started my routine – there it was. A lump.

It was on the inner part of my right breast. It felt like one of those candy coated peanuts. It was hard. It didn’t move around under the skin. Hmmmm. I immediately recognized this was different from the typical lumps and bumps you find. I thought to myself, “well it is day 14 – I am ovulating and it is probably just hormones”. I decided to wait a couple of weeks.

Two weeks later it had doubled in size.

Back to the doctor. “Hey Doc – remember that mammogram you suggested?”

We are more than breasts

I find myself thinking about what I want to say next in this blog. Personal stories come to mind, observations from my wee corner of the earth, and things in the media and news all trigger different streams of thought. I’ve decided that today I will recount a story shared at the last world conference that really touched me. It was a talk given by a doctor and a survivor from a nation in Africa.

The speakers talked about the challenges they face in changing the stereotypical view of a breast cancer diagnosis and in getting to women to encourage early detection (which we all know is a key to successful treatment). The doctor stated that when a woman inadvertently finds a lump in her breast she often would not seek medical treatment because she automatically assumes that a breast cancer diagnosis is an instant death sentence. Given the late stage that a lump is so obviously detected, treatment would often be extreme, which has other more far reaching consequences due to the cultural significance of breasts and fertility and how that defines a woman.

The tools that the developed World used to aide in early detection, like a mammography machine, are not common place in most developing nations. The expense of this equipment imposes further barriers. The doctor sited that a mammography machine could be $1 million dollars. A mosquito net is $1 dollar. When 1 in 5 people die from malaria in his country the choice is obvious. 1 million mosquito nets – not 1 mammography machine.

Education and awareness becomes the only weapon in the arsenal to fight breast cancer to ensure woman can find their cancer early and then seek rapid treatment. The cultural shift is a greater obstacle – I learned that the deep rooted views on fertility and motherhood are such an important thread in the fabric of life. Somehow, we need to weave in a new thread that reinforces that a woman is so much more and can provide the love, care and contribution to her family and society with or without breasts.

New Normal

March 3, 2010
Day two of blogamania. I keep thinking to myself – how am I going to think of things to say – but them I realize that this is not the point. Isn’t a blog just random thoughts. The key is to keep these random thought interesting.

We had a WCBCF Board meeting Monday. There are so many details to take care of. We got to see the preliminary ‘Program at-a-glance’. WOW. I am really impressed at the calibre of the women I am working with. So much experience and talent. All of the Board members either are survivors or have been touched by Breast Cancer.

Toward the end of my Chemotherapy as I walked around bald thinking that my cancer was now what defined me I thought I had lost all of what I was. It has been a rough road to get to my new normal. Working with this Board just affirms that we are far more that the disease that changed our lives.

Does this make me cool?

So I guess I really have gained some ‘cool’ factor as I am officially a blogger now (or at least according to my 12 year old). If I start wearing my glasses, my IQ will go up too – hmm.

As you see from my bio I am a breast cancer survivor and have taken my renewed passion for living to a volunteer post with the World Conference on Breast Cancer Foundation as one of 15 board members.

So what can you expect from this blog? You will see my quirky Canadian sense of humour, you will likely get to know my family a little and I will try to reflect what is going on behind the scenes as we plan the 6^th World Conference on Breast Cancer (without giving away all of the surprises). Any opinions expressed in this blog are entirely my own and do not necessarily reflect those of the Foundation or the Board (so I will try to behave myself).

Hope you enjoy the blog and I look forward to seeing your comments.

Passion in Everything!