Managing Cancer With and Without Health Insurance (Audio)

ITP #16: Health Insurance - it's more than just having financial coverage for your medical needs. On this episode, we talk about the body/mind connection, healing and the trials and tribulations of battling cancer with and without medical insurance. Tune in - Inside the Pomegranate!
Produced by Suzie Shatarevyan for epostle.net
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Managing Cancer With and Without Health Insurance

This week we heard about our government shutting down. The Republicans are opposed to the Affordable Care Act - or ObamaCare. I think though that they are hurting their party by their opposition. With healthcare available to those that couldn't afford it in the past, the Democratic party will gain more supporters, right? Eventually, something's got to give. And hopefully, we can have affordable health care sooner than later. And that's what I wanted to talk about. Healthcare and how important it is, not only because we can get the much needed care we all deserve, but because of the emotional effects of it as well.

 As you all know, I have had three rounds of cancer. The first time was 20 years ago, back in 1993. And then in 2011, I was diagnosed with two types of cancer, just 6 weeks apart from one another. Colon cancer and breast cancer. The second time with cancer, I was so much calmer, so much more "ready" for the battle. I took my cancer in stride. I was going to fight this with all I had. And I did, and thank God I'm here today. But these past few weeks while hearing about the government shutdown, seeing people's posts on Facebook about finally having a chance to get some medical coverage, well, it had me thinking about myself, and my battles, and I came to a realization about my fight with cancer: my diagnoses with cancer in 2011 was much less traumatic, even though the cancer itself was much more extensive than my first battle, and this was all because of the fact that I had health insurance. I had no medical insurance in 1993.

 When I got diagnosed with cancer the first time, I was 34. and a mother of two children - 6 and 12 years old. I was working as a teacher at St. Gregory Hovsepian School in Pasadena and we were not offered any benefits at all. My children's father freelanced as a commercial photographer. It's hard enough having your own business. And with two children, we couldn't afford health insurance. My cancer diagnosis was terrifying. I didn't know anything about breast cancer - but believe me, I learned quickly. I went to my primary care physician after symptoms, he sent me for a diagnostic mammogram, and when it was determined that I needed a biopsy, he sent me to a surgeon he knew of. After the biopsy came back positive for breast cancer, that's when  reality hit. How would we ever be able to pay for this? Of course we would do whatever we could, but what was all this going to cost us? My doctor was a godsend. We needed to find a surgeon. He made calls and explained my situation. He had a patient that had no insurance and she needed surgery. Could they help us? He found a surgeon for me, and I went to see him. Even though they had found the cancer early, and it was Stage 1, this surgeon suggested I have a double mastectomy because chances of recurrence would be greater because of my young age. I was ready. I gave my okay...just do it! I just wanted it out of my body. I had children to raise. And here was this doctor who was going to help me....after all, beggers can't be choosey, right? I had no insurance. Who was I to challenge his medical opinion.

 It was my mom that insisted on a second opinion. I was resistant. It wasn't until just this past week that I realized WHY I was so resistant to that second opinion. After all, this is what I tell so many people that get diagnosed and ask my advice. Seek a second opinion, or a third or fourth opinion til you find a doctor who you feel will help you regain your wellness. So what was so different for me then?  Simple: No medical insurance. As a young mom, I was worried about how this was all going to impact the family. My healthcare was taking food out of my children's mouths. At least that's that I felt like. I felt this degree of guilt. Going to a second surgeon was going to mean another consultation fee, another bill....and after all, didn't I just want the cancer out of me? So what was the point?

 But there was a point! The point was that there are different methods of treating. A surgeon will treat by cutting. My mom took me to an oncologist. He understood my fears, talked to me about options and treatments. I will never forget Dr. Tchekmedyian. He refused to take money from me. I had to pay for my labs and my radiation therapy, yes. But visits with him were gratis. He is an angel. We decided that we weren't going to go the route of mastectomy, but I still had to undergo surgery and then a six-week course of daily radiation therapy. Dr. T would be my oncologist, and the first surgeon I had gone to see (the one who wanted to do a double mastectomy), he would perform the surgery. Now all we had to do was set the date. 

The surgeon gave me a discounted rate of $6,000 to perform my surgery. But the hospital didn't want to admit me because again, I had no health insurance. They told me to go to the county hospital that admits everyone. But if I did, I wouldn't be able to use my surgeon. We had to negotiate with Glendale Memorial. We agreed to give them $3,000 up front for the hospital stay in order for us to schedule surgery. We could put that on our credit card. Once we agreed to that, we could schedule the surgery. Looking at the calendar there was one day that was totally empty. Guess what day that was? Friday the 13th. No one wanted to have surgery that day. So that's the day I chose. The plan was this: book the surgery for 5:00 a.m., undergo surgery, and then recover til 4:00 p.m. and make sure you're out of the hospital before 5:00 p.m. to incur less charges. That way, I wouldn't be charged for a full day. They gave a list of my medications to my husband who was told to get them from the  local drug store because they'd be much cheaper than getting them from the hospital. And then even though I'd have drainage tubes and needed care, I would be checked out of the hospital and allowed to go home. A nurse would teach me how to monitor my drainage and change my dressings. Seriously. When I write this now, it's like something from a Halloween thriller, right?

So that's exactly what happened. The morning of the surgery, we put the $3K down on the credit card. Prepped for surgery. And that's all I remember, until I woke up feeling like a I had been hit by a truck. I couldn't use my right arm because of the surgery and the lymph node dissection. I was bandaged with tubes coming out of my incisions. It's like a dream but very vivid in my mind's eye. My mom was sitting in a chair looking worried. I was in and out of consciousness. My husband came in with the bag holding the meds. There was a nurse that kept monitoring something. Then the doctor came in....it was sometime around 3:00 p.m. He told my mom something and she started crying, but happy crying. Later I found out that my lymph nodes tested negative. I don't think I said much. I was in a fog. Then before I knew it, the nurse came in. She helped me up. Sat me down, and started showing me how I would need to change my drains. They gave me the doctor's number to call and report the fluid drainage daily and gave me instructions on when to call if I felt that I had an infection. They gave me a sheet of exercises to do to regain mobility in my right arm. It was all this information being thrown at me, and then the next thing I remember is sitting in the car with my husband at the wheel, me in the front seat and mom in the back. I was wearing the hospital gown and a robe and being driven home.

My children were 6 and 12 years old. I remember their excitement as the car pulled up. And I remember their scared faces as they saw me coming up the stairs to the house. They had made little signs all over the house that said, Welcome Home Mommy. Crayon pictures of flowers and happy faces. I remember there was even a sign taped on the TV. I remember sitting down in the recliner and being so medicated that I couldn't carry on a conversation with my children. What I wanted to do more than anything was tell them I loved them and that everything was going to be okay. That we were going to make it through this, but I couldn't. I was so out of it.  I wanted to hug them but I was bandaged and my right arm didn't work.  Over the next few days things got better. The fog lifted. I changed my drains. The American Cancer Society sent women over to the house to help me with arm exercises to regain my movement. And then a few weeks later, once the incisions started healing, it was time to schedule radiation therapy.

We were living in La Crescenta, and because the radiation therapy was going to be administered under Dr. T - whose office was out of St. Mary's hospital in Long Beach, that's where I had to go for daily treatment, 5 days a week for the next six weeks. That's about an hour's drive one way.  The bill for radiation therapy came out to a little over $20,000 (remember, this was 20 years ago - imagine what it is today!) I went through therapy, and as tiring as it was, everything went smoothly. I had left teaching when I got diagnosed and had taken my daughter Ani out of Armenian School as the commute would have been too much for me at that time. The next year I went back to my teaching job. The administration was very happy to announce that this year they were going to offer us teachers health insurance. YAY! I remember coming home with the packet they had given us for review. The Kaiser representative came to talk to us the following day. They would cover us for everything - except pre-existing conditions. Was cancer a pre-existing condition? You betcha. Sorry. No cancer coverage for you. I had to wait 5 years before I got full coverage. Seriously.

 But it all had a happy ending. Eventually I did get coverage...and then eventually, I changed jobs and got a full benefits package at my new job. And then flash forward 18 years to 2011, and I got diagnosed first with colon cancer and then with breast cancer. Except this time, I HAD medical insurance. When I look at it now, the peace of mind was amazing. Having healthcare insurance is a blessing. When you are faced with a life-threatening illness, whether you have a family to raise or not, the stress and strain of worrying about how you're going to handle it financially, can hinder your wellness. Financially, it was tough enough to deal with college tuition - I was so relieved to know that my insurance was going to be there for my surgery. And what a difference it was. Surgery was scheduled effortlessly. I didn't have to put money down up front. I was treated just like everyone else....everyone else with insurance, that is. And because of this luxury, I could focus on wellness. I could focus on being healthy enough to attend my daughter's nursing school graduation. I could focus on healing from the inside out....and from the outside in.

 I understand that it all costs money. I understand that our country is concerned about budgets. But what I don't understand is that we seem to have billions of dollars for war and weapons. But we don't ever seem to have the funds for education and healthcare. We're offered "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," but how can we live life fully when we are faced with medical needs and are so wrought with guilt over spending the family's last dollar on our survival? The toll weighs heavy on our shoulders.  We're all struggling as it is.  The Affordable Care Act would keep insurance company's from denying coverage for pre-existing conditions. It would allow those that have no coverage, affordable health care. I know it will have its problems. I know there will be opposition. I know it will not be the best for everyone, but it will certainly bring us one step closer to becoming a more compassionate and caring nation - one that's concerned about the health and well-being of ALL its citizens, not just the ones that can afford it.

I think I went on too long, but so much of those emotions came flooding back this week. It made me realize how much I appreciate  the healthcare coverage that I havenow  through my current job. But it also made me even more passionate about healthcare reform for all.

What are your thoughts? I would love to hear from you as always. You can leave me a comment here...or drop me a line at anushnoor@gmail.com

Why I Walk

Right around mile 36, coming into the home stretch!

This year marks my 10th year participating in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer - a challenging 39-mile, two-day walk that raises hope, awareness and funding for breast cancer.  It seems that every year I say I'm taking a break this year, and then somehow, I find myself signed up and training to walk.  This Saturday, May 11 is this year's Kick Off event for the walk, and I have been asked to speak to the group and share my story and Why I Walk.  I thought I would share it with you.  So here goes.

Would it make sense to you if you heard me say that my cancer diagnosis was a positive event in my life?  How can something so devastatingly scary be positive?  I think of it as positive because no other event (other than becoming a mom) has made me understand who I am, what I believe, and what it means to be a survivor.

When I was diagnosed at age 34,  cancer meant fear.  Fear of the future, fear of the unknown, fear for my children.  Growing up, in the 70's, you didn't hear of too many people who survived "cancer."  So when I was diagnosed, naturally I thought of the worst.  But thankfully, we caught it early.  I underwent surgery and daily radiation.  And I made it! I celebrated life and every year that went by. They told me that if I made it to my 5th year without recurrence, then I could consider myself "cured." And that 5th year was my goal.  That was back in 1998.  I heard about the first Avon Walk...it was a 3-day walk back then. 60 miles from Santa Barbara to Malibu.  And it coincided with my 5 year cancer anniversary.  I remember that first walk.  Everything seemed so special.  I walked on my own, but all along the way I met so many amazing people...some were survivors just like me.  We were all walking together, all of us with different stories, yet all of us touched by cancer.  I remember that last day, walking single file along PCH into Malibu.  One foot in front of the other.  Calling up every last bit of strength from inside me.  Thinking about my grandmothers (who were both genocide survivors and powerful women of faith)...and thinking, I am their granddaughter.  I can do this.  I am a survivor!  Just believe! And I thought of my fear of cancer, and I came to the realization that I had overcome that fear.  When I saw my children at the finish line cheering me on, with their smiles and flowers, something inside me changed.  I felt powerful!  I had survived!

Life went on the years went by.  I kept up with my check ups and my mammograms.  My children grew up.  And I kept walking.  When my daughter got old enough, she signed up to walk with me. And then 2011 came and hit me with a double whammy.  You know that colonoscopy you keep putting off?  Well, don't do that!   In February of 2011, I went for my first ever colonoscopy.  Routine.  No symptoms.  Nothing.  And then wham, I was diagnosed with colon cancer after the mass they found tested positive.  Thankfully, it too was caught early.  I underwent surgery.  And during my six week recovery, I went for my annual mammogram.  I remember the day after I returned to work I got a call.  They saw "something" in my mammogram and wanted me to come in for a biopsy.  I went in the very next day, and by the following day I received the call.  I had breast cancer again.  18 years later.   Because I had radiation the first time around that was no longer an option. I had to undergo a mastectomy and opted for reconstructive surgery at the same time.  So there was a lot of coordinating and scheduling going on...and at the same time, my daughter was getting ready to graduate nursing school. This time the feeling wasn't fear, but determination.  I was going to get through this...and I was determined to make it to graduation.   I think each and every one of my medical team and hospital staff knew about my daughter's graduation. I heard more than one scheduler or nurse say, "This mama's got to make it to her baby's graduation....we need to get her there!"   That became my goal.  To make it to her graduation.  And it happened.  I had my surgery and despite the bandages, the incisions and the drains,  and was well enough to make it to graduation and hear my baby girl deliver her commencement address!

That September, just 3 months after my surgery...my daughter and I walked in the Avon Walk Santa Barbara.  We held hands as we approached the finish line.  Our family was there (as they always have been) and then looking beyond, I saw so many of my friends!  15 of my friends had rented a van and surprised us.  They had come all the way from Glendale to Santa Barbara to support us as we crossed the finish line.  It was amazing. Not only that, but they had cooredinated this huge potluck ...and they all stayed for the closing ceremony.  By the end of the closing ceremony, my brother, sisters and 7 of my friend had signed up to walk in 2012 as Team In Her Shoes so inspired by the amazing stories they heard.  Our team grew to 18 walkers last year.  And between 18 of us, we raised $35,000!

When I think about why I walk, the reason is because I can't not walk.  I walk to thank those who walked before me.  I am alive because of breast cancer research.  I walk to raise funds so the research can continue, so that someday we won't have cancer.  I walk to remember those who are survivors of this disease, for those who are fighting cancer now, and in memory of those who have lost the battle  And I carry their names with me on my 39.3 mile journey.  And I also walk to offer hope and support to others just like those that walked with me those first years of my Avon walk experience.

Finally, I know I have changed a lot from 20 years ago and my first diagnosis.  Cancer doesn't mean fear to me anymore.  Cancer has become so much more -- but in a good way.  Cancer means hope for recovery.  Cancer means love and support from friends and family.  Cancer means beauty in seeing the most ordinary of life happening around you and appreciating it for what it is - beautiful and miraculous.  Cancer means faith, prayer, and believing in your wellness and knowing  that those prayers are being answered.  And cancer means action - being proactive and aggressive when it comes to our wellness.  We have the power to make amazing changes that are happening in our lifetime.  It all starts with the first step.  I am so  looking forward to taking that next step with all of you this September!

If you would like to donate to the Avon Walk and have us walk in memory or honor of your loved one, you can follow the link to donate.  Each walker has to raise a total of $1800.  I have met my goal, but I ask that you donate to Father Vazken's goal.  You can access his donation page at:  http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR/Walk/LosAngeles?px=2509651&pg=personal&fr_id=2240

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You can hear this post read on this week's podcast (May 9, 2013)  of The Next Step with Fr. Vazken on epostle.net

Who Knows Where the Time Goes!?

I can't believe that I haven't posted since February.  I was just directing someone to my blog when I came here myself and wham....wow, what happened?  Is it possible that six months has past since I last visited?  I guess so.

Life is hectic, but good.  There's a lot to write about but given that I'm at the office on my lunch break, I'll just touch on a few things and then come back and revisit them in a few days.....or next year (okay, hopefully not that long). 

Wake Up and Smell the Coffee  (Camping trip 08/2011)

The main excitement that it going on in my life right now, is that my baby girl Ani, is getting married in just 46 days.  Although this is super exciting, and I am blessed with knowing that she has a wonderful fiance that we love very much, it's still going to be a big adjustment for me.  While we're busy figuring out what we're doing with hair, make up, logistics of the wedding day, photos, and limos and such, I'm also balancing the emotions that come with being a mom of an incredible daughter who is also my best friend -- who I have been sharing a home with for 25 years on a day to day.  We share this bond though, and that's the beautiful thing.  It's going to be weird not to have Ani at home any longer,  but there is always unlimited texting.  : )  And I know in my core, that although it's going to be different, "different' doesn't mean bad.  It just means different.  And new.

As a mom, it's a pretty amazing thing.  Ani will always be my baby, but she's really grown up to be a phenomenal woman, a pediatric nurse, a creative blogger and crafter, a compassionate and beautiful soul.   I'm so proud of her....(actually, proud of both my children).  And I'm looking forward to see how they will grow and reinvent themselves in the years to come. 

A month or so ago, Neddy and I had gone out for our anniversary.  And we were sitting there having dinner.  We had just celebrated Ned's birthday - surprise party style - and he said to me, "on my next big birthday, I don't think I could handle a surprise party again!"  And we started thinking about the future, and what the next ten years would hold for us, through God's grace.  My stepdaughter (Ned's daughter) is expecting her first child in December.  Ani and Eric are getting married.  In ten years' time, perhaps my son will also find his soulmate.  We sat there flash-forwarding to family vacations with grandchildren, hugs and sticky kisses.  It was so beautifully surreal.  Life goes on and it's wild how much change can happen in such a short time.

And then I started thinking backward too..  Just a little over a year ago, I underwent surgery for cancer.  Two types of cancer last year.  Two surgeries.  Lots of challenges, and lots of good stuff too.  Lots of happiness mixed in with the tough times.  And it's all behind me now...and then there's a whole lot in front of me too!

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” - Albert Einstein

I thank God for the miracles!!!

PMPS? Or What?

You know the feeling of being bitten by an insect where you get that sting feeling followed by an itch?  And then you have that terrible need to scratch?  Now think of that same feeling, but imagine that your body was numb, so no matter how you scratch or try to remedy that the itch, it doesn't help, because the feeling is not caused by a bite on the surface of your skin, but by nerves that are damaged in your body.  This is what I've been experiencing for the past 3 days.   It's been rough.

Three days ago, I was woken up from my sleep by shooting nerve pains.  The pain started at my incision site below my underarm but deep inside.  It was so intense I didn't know what to do.  Rubbing the area was futile.  As hard as I rubbed, I still couldn't get relief since my incision areas and areas around them are numb.  That first night the itching/stabbing pain lasted about 15 minutes.  The next morning, it came back...on and off throughout the day for short bursts.  By the following evening, I was wincing in pain.  The attacks were lasting longer.  Unable to sleep, I tried an ice pack, then icy hot, then arnica gel.  Nothing worked.  Motrin.... 800 mgs.  No relief.  I got up and tried to research the net.  Googling "Terrible itching pain at incision site after mastectomy" I found a link describing my symptoms and a thread called PMPS or Post Mastectomy Pain Syndrome.  As much as I found relief in reading that others were having symptoms like mine, I am still concerned that this pain is going to be chronic.  What I read stated that there was no "cure" and people were living with the pain.  Up to 30% of post mastectomy women experience this, but the medical community often dismisses it because it's nothing that can be pinpointed, and there's no cure.  

The following day, exhausted, I had to go to work.  The pain was terrible, and throughout the day in my cubicle, I found myself applying pressure to my incision site....pushing, massaging, leaning forward in my chair.  Trying everything possible to get it to stop.  I called the doctor.  "My appointment is not til the 23rd.  But I'm having this terrible pain and I can't seem to get any relief.  I wanted to call and let you know.  The doctor had said that I did have some swelling at my last appointment and I still do.  Is there anything I can take for the pain?"  The receptionist told me she'd discuss it with the surgeon and get back to me.  Fine.  After an hour she called back.  Nothing can be done.  The doctor told me that as long as the breast was not red or hot to the touch, it was okay.  Otherwise, I would just need to let it get better on its own. "The nerves have been cut, and they're regenerating."    I mentioned what I had read about PMPS, but it was dismissed.  "What if I don't get better?"  "You will."  :::shrug:::

Last night I was exhausted from pain, and lack of sleep.  I tried the heating pad on the area.  During the day I had my Rx for Norco refilled.  And today I have been taking it around the clock.  It seems to have helped a bit though it leaves my  head wonky.  I've also limited my caffeine as I read that it over stimulates the nerves and makes you more susceptible to the pain.  The attacks are not as bad though they are still there.  I've also been trying to stretch my arm out during an attack.  In my thinking, I imagine that it's "stretching the nerves" that may be rebelling or pinched or unhappy.

I wanted to post this because this pain was completely unexpected...and not explained to me as a side effect of mastectomy.  You think when you're post op, and healing that you're out of the woods...and then BAM it hits you.  And from what I read, this can be experienced even a year or two (or more) after surgery.  I also wanted to put PMPS out there, in case others are having these feelings/pain.  There's not a lot of info out there, but we're not going crazy.  That feeling of being wrapped in barbed wire is not in your head.  It's in your nerve endings and very real. 

I hope and pray that this will get better and that I do not suffer from this syndrome, but that I'm just healing.  I'm still trying to figure it out.  For now, the pain seems managed, and I'm going to try to get some sleep while I can.  

Fall Seven Times -- (One Week Post Op)

I went back to work this week -- Wait!  It was only yesterday.  Geez...okay, so you can tell how exhausting it's been....felt like Thursday.  Thankfully, I don't have a physically demanding job -- I work at a computer all day -- but still, sitting in one place and dealing with work demands has been draining.


The drain site is still sore even though the drain is out.  It's going to take time to heal.  I am still heavily bandaged...and I always forget to allow extra time to my morning/evening routine.  Changing dressings takes me an extra 10 minutes.  I was told that there can be absolutely NO PRESSURE applied to the wound site, so I have layer upon layer of gauze stacked up to help me achieve this.  
Tomorrow is my post op appointment with the surgeon.  I'm curious if he'll remove the stitches.  The Steri-Strips are still in place (they haven't fallen off yet like they said they would).  We'll see.


Another big change has been that Ani has started working the night shift at Children's Hospital.  This is going to be a "regular" thing for the next year.  I'm so used to having her around.  And now, when she's working, I don't get to see her but for an hour, when I come home and she's getting ready to leave.  We are getting creative in our texting.  I've been staying up late working on jewelry, and we'll send a text here and there at odd hours just to "check in".  But the house is quiet now, and it's a big change for me.  That, coupled with the darkness after the time change, and it's a bit gloomy.  : (


That being said though, all in all, I am feeling optimistic.  I have been thinking a lot about this past year now that we're just a couple months from the end of it.  It's been a tough ride, and 
I'm ready for the New Year to start.  But I am also grateful.  Yes, it's been a tough year...but I am alive!  I made it through, and I'm still fighting!  : )  

"Fall 7 times - stand up 8." Japanese Proverb That's it right there.  Just keep on standing up!  Keep fighting for what you believe in.  Life is precious!

When Has it Ever Not Been Crazy?

With the Avon Walk behind me, I thought, "Now I can settle down and finish up the illustrations!"  I have this illustration job that started late last year, and then with the gallbladder surgery, colon cancer, breast cancer issues of the past 8 months, everything with that has been put on hold.  Until this week.  After talking to Elise, the head of the Department of Religious Education for the Eastern Diocese of the Armenian Church, we decided that if the book (a childrens book about what goes on in Armenian Orthodox church from a child's perspective) is going to be ready in time for Christmas, then I need to have the illustrations done by the end of October.  EEeeeeppps!!!  That's only a month and some change away! 

So here it is, Saturday morning.  I got the house in some semblance of order ...sort of.  And now I'm getting ready to figure out what I'm doing.  The illustrations, organizing team In Her Shoes, Pomegranate & Eye (the jewelry business), day job, family, and the upcoming second part of my reconstruction surgery - which will take place on 11/1/11 (nice number line up, for sure!)

For the past month, it seems that I have just had such a lack of energy.  I mean, yes, we trained for the avon walk, miles and miles of training, and then the intensity of the weekend.  But I mean, other than that.  I've always been one to be "busy".  My life is filled with projects, and burning the candle at both ends and in the middle too.  Lately, though, it's been catching up to me, more so.  I've had to come home from work and just "veg" out...laying down on my bed in the afternoon...sometimes even falling asleep.  I've never ever been a napper. 

But it's okay.  I am thankful that I'm able to do what I can do.  I realize that my life has always been crazy.  And that's not a bad thing.  Like the comment I received a couple months ago, it just means I have a very FULL life.  And this is good.  Life is good.

Soooo.....I am hopeful that I'll be able to get this illustration job done (prayers are appreciated).  If I can get it done by the end of October...I won't have it looming over me when I have my surgery.  There is a peace that I feel when I do get to sit and draw...and I get lost in time.  It's just the effort of getting myself to sit and do it.  Once I do, it's bliss.  So today, in fact, right now, I'm going to sit down at my drawing table and work!

A Piece of Candy and a Hug

I have a friend who is homeless. He is wheel-chair bound, has only one leg, a long gray beard and soft green eyes that have a lot of kindness in them.  Every weekday when I leave work, he is there on my way to the parking garage.  He puts his cup out on the sidewalk and never asks passersby for money.  Instead, he keeps track of who goes by and builds friendships.  And because of this he is very approachable.  Somedays I can put a dollar in the cup, other days it's just some loose change, or I'll hand him part of my lunch, but I will always stop and say hello and talk to him and ask how he's doing.  And others do the same. 

He's very complimentary, my friend.  "Nice hair!"  "You've got a kind heart."  "That's a great color on you."  Is it a survival mechanism?  I don't think so.  He is kind, centered, and has built community around him.  He's the type of guy where, in the triple-digit heat when I asked him how he was fareing, instead of complaining he said, "I'm just thankful for the breeze."  : )

Yesterday was not the greatest day at work.  Yes, I got great news about the genetic test results, but my work day was tough, and as I approached my friend at the end of my day, I was in thought.  I stopped to say hello and he asked how I was.  I said, "Not every day can be a good one, but every day is a blessing."  He thought about it and said, "That's very true.  My grandma taught me that you should count your blessings every day."  We talked a little, and he got excited like he suddenly thought of something.  "Wait," he said, "I have something to make your day better!"  He hopped up on his leg and started rummaging through various bags all attached to the back of his wheelchair.  He said, "A lady gave me a bag of these and it's just the thing to make your day better."  Finally he found it.  He produced a small, bite-sized Milky Way candy.  He gave it to me to improve my day.  It was a small gesture from one friend to another...and then he gave me a hug. 

You know what?  He was right!  It made my day.  : )  And I don't even know his name...but today, I'll ask.

Small Test, Big Results!!!

Just got the good news!  I am NOT a carrier of the Breast Cancer gene!  After a week of trying to get a hold of my doctor, she called today with the blood test results.  "Your blood workup came back negative...and completely normal!"  What a relief.

Since my bout with colon cancer, and then round two of breast cancer, my medical team has been advising that I get tested.  My insurance approved it and off I went for what appeared to be a simple blood test. But this small test is HUGE...because it goes all the way down to the DNA level to see if you are a carrier of this mutation..not just in your recent family history, but way, way back.  The American Cancer Institute says it this way:


A woman’s lifetime risk of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer is greatly increased if she inherits a harmful mutation in BRCA1 or BRCA2. Such a woman has an increased risk of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer at an early age (before menopause) and often has multiple, close family members who have been diagnosed with these diseases. Harmful BRCA1 mutations may also increase a woman’s risk of developing cervical, uterine, pancreatic, and colon cancer (1, 2). Harmful BRCA2 mutations may additionally increase the risk of pancreatic cancer, stomach cancer, gallbladder and bile duct cancer, and melanoma (3).


The likelihood that a breast and/or ovarian cancer is associated with a harmful mutation in BRCA1 or BRCA2 is highest in families with a history of multiple cases of breast cancer, cases of both breast and ovarian cancer, one or more family members with two primary cancers (original tumors that develop at different sites in the body), or an Ashkenazi (Central and Eastern European) Jewish background (see Question 6). However, not every woman in such families carries a harmful BRCA1 or BRCA2 mutation, and not every cancer in such families is linked to a harmful mutation in one of these genes. Furthermore, not every woman who has a harmful BRCA1 or BRCA2 mutation will develop breast and/or ovarian cancer.


According to estimates of lifetime risk, about 12.0 percent of women (120 out of 1,000) in the general population will develop breast cancer sometime during their lives compared with about 60 percent of women (600 out of 1,000) who have inherited a harmful mutation in BRCA1 or BRCA2 (4, 5). In other words, a woman who has inherited a harmful mutation in BRCA1 or BRCA2 is about five times more likely to develop breast cancer than a woman who does not have such a mutation.

As you can see, the ramifications of a positive test are many in nature.  My main concern, of course, was the possibility of being a carrier and what this would mean for my daughter, my sister, my nieces.  This is why it was/and IS so important to get tested if your doctor feels there's just cause.  My father would say, "Knowledge is power."  And I've always been one to want to know what's going on...especially within my body.  Given my medical history of breast cancer at age 34, ovarian cyst (removed as precaution since I had cancer at a young age), gallbladder surgery, colon cancer and then breast cancer again, they doctors felt there was just cause.

But this story has a happy ending!  I'm not a carrier.  And I'm breathing a sigh of relief....for my daughter, for my future grandchildren : ), for my family.  Life is good!

Healing from the Inside Out

Yesterday, in training for next week's walk, Ani and I mapped our course and set out to "Walk to Lunch" at our favorite coffee shop in Glendale  - Foxy's.  We live in Sunland.  The route consisted of walking uphill about 3 miles (next week's walk touts 13 miles of hills), into La Cresenta, through Montrose and down into Glendale.  One of the things about training for a walk is the hours of time it takes to prepare.  Considering we're walking about 3.2 miles per hour, a 15 mile walk like this one consumes 5 hours of time.  And Foxy's is 15.5 miles from our home.  This to me is viewed as the downside.  My Saturdays are my only "catch up" day...housework, shopping, cooking, cleaning. 

We started our journey around 8:00 a.m.  Thankful for the overcast weather -- a nice change from the triple digits of last week.  Walking with one's best friend is always pleasurable.  When that best friend also happens to be your daughter, it's a double blessing.  And while we walked, we talked about her new job, what's going on at my work, what I need to get done on an illustration job I'm working on, health issues, family issues.  All of it.  This is the beauty of walking.  It allows you to talk.  To have more than a 140 character conversation....it takes time. 

And while we were walking, I started thinking about how far I had come.  I mentioned to Ani, "My surgery was only 4 months ago."  Her response:  "Yes.  And you need to remember that!"  So true.  It seems like it's been a long time, yet, only 4 months ago, I underwent a mastectomy and reconstruction with a tram flap procedure.  Not easy.  And here I am, walking.  I also thought about years past.  I have always done the Avon Walks  no matter what size I have been.  I am doing it this year 72 pounds lighter than 2 years ago...about 15 pounds lighter than last year.  And the difference in great.  Less stress on my knees, less blisters while walking, less aches and pains, and the hills are not as difficult as they once were.  I remember when I started on this weight loss journey almost two years ago.  I had gone to see a nutritionist...and I had also gone to see a cardiologist who did some echo studies of my heart.  I only lasted 9 minutes on the treadmill that day, and then I got to see my heart as it recovered from the stress.  Seeing my heart there on the screen was an epiphany to me.  And thinking about it today, I still get teary eyed.  I was looking at this amazing organ in my body....beating, like it had beat for the past 50 years, every day, day in and day out, never stopping.  And what had I done for it?  Abused it.  Neglected it.  Ignored it.  And yet it kept up.  Beating.  Giving me life.  That was the beginning of the journey.  After seeing my heart, I couldn't go back to my old ways and so huge lifestyle changes were made.  Less food, more exercise, changing up the proteins vs. carbs.

And I am healing inside as well.  We were talking about that yesterday.  People are nicer to you when you're thinner.  But I think that I am a nicer person as well.  I am not as judgmental.  Which I think was a defense mechanism for my judgment on myself...and others' judgment of me.  I have walked in the shoes of the obese and entered the medical category of "overweight" now.  (Believe me..this was a big milestone for me.)  I think what happens is that when we are down on ourselves the guilt and shame that we feel for the lack of discipline in our lives, turns outward and turns into criticism toward others who seem to have it under control. 

Today is 9/11.  Everyday is a day of forgiveness in the life of a Christian.  Today marks the 10th anniversary of a day that changed all our lives.  I remember the months after that terrible day.  We saw a more united America.  There were flags flying, and the country banded together - an unstoppable force.  As we "healed", those patriotic feelings dwindled, and now it feels as if the country is more divided than ever.  In order to heal, we need to work from the inside out.  We need to heal ourselves first -- abusing the system, neglecting our responsibilities, judging others.  We heal from the inside out -- removing the log from our own eyes before seeing the speck in others.  I have a lot of hope for this world and for our beautiful country.  The lives that were lost on that tragic day will always be remembered.  But in order to move on, we need to forgive.  Forgive ourselves and others.  Pray for our enemies.  Pray not only for our country, but for the World which we are all a part of.

Who I Am

I just heard a promo for a new podcast with Linda Zadoian called Compass, part of epostle.net's programming.  And in this promo, Linda describes some of the different facets of her identity.  This morning, while I was walking, I was thinking about who "I" am.   What is important to me as far as my identity is concerned, and what is not.  Here's a list.

I'm a Christian.  A woman, a mother, a sister, a daughter, an aunt, a cousin, a niece, a granddaughter (though my grandparents aren't around anymore. ) I am a step-mom.
I am a wife, a friend, a confidente.

I am a breast cancer survivor.  I am a colon cancer survivor.  I am just a survivor....of life and all it's bumps and messes.

I am a shoulder to cry on.  I am a hugger.  I am a lover of mostly everyone.  I am someone that sees good in others. 

I am an artist.  I am a jewelry maker.  I am creative and crafty.  I am an illustrator, and a painter.  A sketcher. A musician.

I am a reader.  And a thinker - though sometimes too much.  I am an observer -- noticing the little details in my surroundings and in people.

I am a gardener - though not always a successful one.  Still, I am a gardener and a planter of seeds with a hope for sprouts and for a harvest. 

I am a cry-er at movies, and sappy commercials.  And at things that break my heart...like hungry and abused children and homeless people, and genocide and war.  I am  caring and compassionate.

I am a believer...in love, in goodness, in kindness, and good prevailing over evil.  And in prayer.

I am a fighter.  I am strong.  I am healthy (until I'm not...but for now, thank God, I am!)   I am an optimist.  I am fearless.  And I am brave. 

 

Walking against the Current

Since the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer is only three weeks away, our weekends are consumed with getting in long distance walks.  It's been in the triple digits here in Sunland/L.A. area, so this past Sunday we woke up at 6:00 to head out to Pasadena to walk the Rosebowl a few times. 

When we started walking, it was still early, and there weren't too many people out.  Still, it was Sunday, and despite the heat, and the chance to sleep in, there were people getting their morning exercise.  The beautiful thing was that there were all shapes, sizes, colors and ages of people there.  Walking, running, cycling, skating.  Some walking dogs, some walking each other. 
I'm a people watcher and I've noticed that there are some categories that most walkers fall into:1.  The physically fit:  these beautiful people are in the skimpiest of shorts, and exposed to the world.  They run like gazelles.  Tan bodies that don't giggle.  (I've never been one of this group...but if I were, I'd flaunt it too!)
2.  The ones that are trying to get into shape....(my category).  These people come in all kinds of shapes from super large, to extremely thin....and we're all out there trying to get healthy.  Ani and I, we just walk.  But there are those that wear sweatshirts, even garbage bags, trying to sweat "it" out...whatever it is.  There are chubby moms with chubby kids trying to get healthy together. 
3.  Young moms and dads with their strollers.  I saw a lot of really fit moms...and some not so fit, but with those fancy strollers.  Jogging with their babies. 
4.  The individualists:  This group sticks out, but they want to stick out.  We saw a woman with a Hendrix-size afro, snow boots, and leggings, plugged into her mp3, singing loudly to the world as she walked.  Then "the Mountain Man" with his massive whiskers and hiking boots; the flourescent-clad foreigner group...anyways, you get the picture.
and then there's my favorite group of all....
5.  The senior citizens.  I love seeing them out walking.  The women are so beautiful and so "no nonsense".  They are out there to walk...to visit with their friends while walking.  They have learned life's lessons and are up and moving.  They are such an inspiration to me.  The men are there too.  Walking either with the women, or with their friends.  Joking, getting their exercise.  There's this really cool guy too....he reminds me of an old bulldog looking drill sargeant.  He wears a flashing red light around his neck and a hat, and in the course of our walk, we pass him several times.  I asked him Sunday how many times around he goes around.  "FIVE times every day."  That's 15 miles a day.  What an inspiration!
Sadly, I compare this group of seniors to my own mom who doesn't walk because she believes she cannot.   It's just easier not to.  Her arthritis and severely swollen feet, make it difficult, BUT, she can, and should.  But chooses the easier path.  And sadly, the less she does, the less she will be able to do.  My orthopedist told me the same thing, "Use it or lose it" was the admonishment when it came to my arthritic knees.  So I walk....and  I remember the lyrics of Neil Young's song...to paraphrase, "It's better to burn out, than to rust."  I'd rather burn out trying, than to rust not trying my best.  And hopefully, one day, when I'm a granny, I'll still be out walking the bowl.

Okay, so all this being said I came to another observation.  The first lap around I saw a sign I had never seen before.  It was a graphic of a walker, with an arrow pointing in the direction that walkers are supposed to walk.  I had never seen it before.  And not surprising was the fact that we were walking in the opposite direction.  Grant it, we weren't the only ones walking our way...but I realized that if we were all walking in the same direction - following the directions -- we wouldn't see even half of the people that were out there on that beautiful morning.  We'd only be confined to walking with those that walked at our same pace or that passed us by (or that we passed).  Yet, walking against the current, you got to see almost everyone at some point or another as you passed them by.  I think my life is so much richer for going against the current.  Not just at the Rose Bowl, but in general.

Approaching the Weekend - Tired!

I shouldn't feel so tired.  It all hit me yesterday after my first day back to work.  I had gone camping with Ani, my sister and her two girls and my friend Nancy.  Our all-girl camping trip.  That was Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.  Then Wednesday I had the day of doctor's appointments.  And yesterday it was back to work.  By the time I got home yesterday, I felt that I had the energy just sucked out of me.  And today, I'm just tired and dragging.

That's the difference between pre- and post-cancer.  I feel like I'm well.  My scars have healed.  I even feel like my insides are making progress.  Thankfully, I don't have any treatment going on for my breast cancer.  But despite all this, I find that my energy is just not where it used to be. 

I'm almost 4 months post op from my mastectomy and tram flap procedure.  The doctor, today, gave me the okay to expand my exercise from "just walking" to some light cardio and arm work.  Still no abs, no tummy stuff.  No pulling or stretching that area.  Still, I'm grateful for this much so I can work my geloid arms again.

I brought this fatigue up to the doctor.  Am I supposed to be so tired so far out from surgery?  Well, she said, if it was just one surgery, maybe....but I've had three major surgeries in 6 months.  I guess it's just catch up time.

If I could just put everything on hold and get some quality rest it would be one thing.  But there's so much going on in my life.  I have these illustrations for a children's book that I am commissioned to do.  I need to work on those and try to meet a late October deadline.  There's the jewelry business.  The homeless outreach.  Church.  Family.  The day job.  And the bills.  It gets overwhelming.  But....and this is a big one....I am alive to do these things. And I am relatively well and healthy.  I guess I should stop complaining, no?

A Day for Doctor's Appointments - progress update

Yesterday was my Doctor's appointment day.  I took the day off work to schedule all my appointments in one day and get them over with.  There were some glitches with insurance authorization, and wrong coding, but I made it through.  It was exhausting.  Here's the update on my health both with my breast cancer and general health and weight loss. 

Appointment 1:  Genetic Testing for the BRCA gene.  My insurance approved me for genetic testing after my second time with Breast Cancer and given that I had also had colon cancer.  The test is very important because it determines if you are a carrier of the breast cancer gene or if your cancer was just some random fluke.  The test is nothing more than a blood test, but they test down to your DNA so the lab work up is quite extensive.  I will post the results as soon as I'm made aware, but I don't know who will contact me with them.  My primary doctor or my oncologist. 

Appointment 2:  Consultation with the surgeon for post op check and to discuss part 2 of the breast reconstruction.  Everything went well.  Doctor B was really happy with my progress.  I have been feeling "thicker" around the waist/rib area.  He said this was a natural byproduct of the tram flap procedure but said as far as results go, I was doing really well.  We discussed the reconstruction.  I have an area of scar tissue (near the right outer side of the reconstructed breast), and I have an area of necrosis (less circulation of blood flow so causes a hardened area) on the right inner portion.  During the time of the reconstruction, he will cut around the old incision site (areola) and reshape the necrotic area.  The scar tissue will remain.  And then he will create a nipple.  This is all going to happen some time in October, which is good for me.  I'll be done with the Avon Walk, and it's before the holidays.  It's an outpatient procedure and will require 2-3 days out of work.  I asked about drains.  Will I have to have drains?  (Hate those!), but he said it was doubtful, but not an impossibility.  So I'm keeping my fingers cross.  He will dictate the report and we'll wait for insurance approval.

Appointment 3:  My regular doctor.  Check up. I wanted to talk to her about my weight.  I have been working very hard for almost 2 years now on weight loss.  I had lost 92 pounds...and then once I had my tram flap surgery, I couldn't exercise, bend, etc.   Basically all I did was sit around recuperating....and, well, eating.  And the pounds started creeping back.  So I'm 18 pounds heavier than I was.  Despite all the walking in training that I'm doing, eating right, etc...the pounds are just at a standstill.  So I wanted her input.   I love Dr. M.  She said I may have been thinner back in February, but I was also at that weight because I had been sick with gallbladder issues etc...and to not be so hard to myself.  She was very happy with my progress and the fact that I had been maintaining (I wish I were as happy).  We decided that I would need to be more disciplined, and write down everything I ate.  She asked, "Could it be that you're taking more than you think?"  Anything is possible.  :::shrug:::   I'm walking a lot...so the exercise is not a factor.  But she suggested that I ask Dr. B if it's okay to go back to my yoga class or to the gym.  Anyways, the plan is to write it all down and try to cut back 200 calories daily...and then reassess in 4 weeks' time.  I also have general fatigue from everything.  I get tired more readily just doing what I used to do normally. She said this was due to having 3 major surgeries in 6 months.  Okay.  I get it.

After three appointments (and no coffee in the morning), I was exhausted.  Special thanks to my daughter Ani for coming with me.  She always makes the worst situations better.

At Least There are Sunflowers

I haven't blogged in a long while.  I've gone back to work, back to jewelry making, I'm starting to go back to my drawings now, and life in general.  I've been walking....and walking....getting ready for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer which is now only 50 days away.  Eeeps!  You know that Ani graduated, but since my last writing, she has taken her NCLEX (nursing license exam) and passed and is now a full R.N.  My son Nareg turned 30 - a wonderful occasion to see how my little boy has grown into a man (and a kind, compassionate one at that!)  I really have a lot to be thankful for.  But then there's the garden.

There's a lesson to be learned here, and I'm trying to figure out what it is.  Remember how adamant I was about digging and getting the garden ready before my surgery?  That was a little over 3 months ago.  I worked for a week, digging and weeding, turning in new soil and planting.  It was all set.   And for a while it was good.  The peas did well (see previous blog posts), and I harvested quite a bit, but the weather got warmer and the plants maxed out. 

But what about the other stuff?  The tomatoes, the squash and cucumbers?  The peppers and green beans.  Pffffffffttt!  I don't know what happened.  Whereas my sister Susan is sharing mammoth sized zucchini with me, I have not had one.  My coworkers are bringing in bumper crops of tomatoes, I have maybe picked a handful of golf-ball sized thick-skinned tomatoes.  I had one really good green pepper...and just picked two half sized red ones (I left them on the plant thinking they'd get bigger...they just got red...:::shrug:::).  One eggplant.  One small yellow squash.  No cucumbers.  I have watered and weeded, and put in my time.  So what's up?  No clue.  I do know that I have a possum that comes out at night and if I don't harvest my tomatoes in time, he'll help himself to them...but that's not it.

What I DO have though, are sunflowers.  They are just getting ready to bloom.  I had planted them around the border of my garden (so they wouldn't block the sprinkler spray and deprive my veggies of water).  They are magnificent.  Tall and strong, turning their faces toward the sun.  A reminder of God's beauty and artistry.

I have an army of them.  A source of joy when I go out and look at my otherwise failing garden.  I have been thinking about this lately, because yes, I am disappointed with my garden...but how can I be when I have something so amazing right there in front of my eyes?

And I thought about what I've been through over the past several months.  Before being diagnosed, I had worked on getting healthy.  Losing weight, eating right, exercising.  I had put in my time to make myself a healthier person.  Despite all this effort, I was diagnosed first with colon cancer, and then with breast cancer.  I underwent surgeries.  I recuperated.  I followed doctor's orders.  And I, thank God, am well.  I may not be "thriving" yet...but I'm doing okay.  Giving off a tomato here, and a pepper there (metaphorically speaking, of course.)  But still, I'm doing okay, y'know?  But oh, the SUNFLOWERS!  They're the blessings in my life:  my children, my family, God's presence, my ability to help others, compassion, peace, and love.  They are more than thriving.  They are starting to BLOOM.  This is what is bringing me JOY.

I am thankful for all the parts of my garden.  The ability to even have a space to have a garden.  The strength that I enjoy to work in the garden.  The blessing of having clean water in pipes that flow to water my garden.  And even for the disappointments of failed crops.  And I'm definitely thankful for the SUNFLOWERS!  Reminders of God's presence in my life and the gifts that I am so richly rewarded with.

Fear, Living with Uncertainty, and Cancer Recurrence

When you first get diagnosed with cancer, your world stops.  My first thinking, eighteen years ago, was "What will happen to my children if I die?"  I think that's the first question for parents, right?  You have no clue what you're in for.  You're at the mercy of your doctors and health care providers as far as your physical health is concerned...and if you're a believer, you're at God's mercy for the rest.

Somehow, you manage to make it to all your appointments, your surgery, through your recovery, and your treatment.  And then it's over.  It's like you're "sprung" from the prison of your disease.  Sure, you have to go to your follow up appointments with your surgeon, your oncologist, in my case, my plastic surgeon.  But the intense focus and attention that you and everyone else around you has put on your cancer for the past couple months eases up.  And then you're faced with  --- I know I was -- FEAR.   The fear is of recurrence.  Uncertainty. Did they get it all?  Is it really out of my body?  What if they didn't?  What if I have to go through it again?  I remember it being terrifying during my recovery from Round One all those years ago.  A lumpectomy, lymph node dissection, and six weeks of daily radiation treatments left me little time or energy to think about anything else other than my family and surviving. 

I remember making a point to walk every day, eat right, check myself, reading up on all the latest news on breast cancer.  That's how I got started in doing the Avon Walk.  I celebrated my 5 year "cure" by walking 60 miles during the first 3-day they had...from Santa Barbara to Malibu.  My daughter was too young to join me at that time, so I did it on my own.  It was very cleansing for me walking all those miles...just thinking, praying, praising.  I had survived.  But I think that was the beginning of letting go for me.  They said if I could survive 5 years without recurrence, then I was "cured."  I remember walking those painful steps on the third day feeling "alive" albeit with blisters...it just reinforced the fact that I was there.  Crossing the finish line with my "sisters" in celebration.  Seeing the faces of my children at the end - then 6 and 12 - and thinking that I had completed the journey. If I could survive 5 years without recurrence, then I was "cured." That's what I was told.

But that's only cured of recurrence of the SAME cancer.  Not of other cancers.  I had 18 years of great mammograms after my cancer.  And then this year --- it's baaaaackk.  But really, IT was not back.  Because it wasn't  the same cancer.  It was a different cancer, but in the same breast.  And then earlier in the year, in February, I had colon cancer.  Totally unrelated to the breast cancer.

I guess what I'm saying here is this.  Life is uncertain.  And our health is uncertain too.  Yes, there is a chance of recurrence after cancer.  Doctors will talk in statistics.  "You have a 5% chance of recurrence".  "If you survive five years without recurrence, you can consider yourself cured."  We cancer survivors are in this limbo.  We don't really want to know if it's coming back.  What we want to know is that it's NOT coming back.  And no one can tell us that.  In the beginning you live day to day.  Then doctor's appointment to doctor's appointment.  Month to month.  And then you celebrate your wellness anniversaries.  The fear is always inside there.  It's that little apprehension when you're opening up your screening results.  But you can't let that take over.  Remember: I may have cancer; but cancer doesn't have me.

So what do we do then? You just put on your big girl panties and deal with it!  You can't just stop living your life because of the fear.  Life will go on.  So enjoy every single day.  Don't stress over the small stuff (because it's all small stuff).  When you're walking, look around you.  Find the bird's nests in the trees.  Look at the shapes and colors of God's creation, and breathe in the smell of the air.  Go ahead, pick a dandelion and blow!  Launch the seeds!  This is life.  It's happening right now.  Don't miss it because of fear or worry, because honestly, you're missing RIGHT NOW by worrying about the future.  Relax.  Let go of the cancer.  Think good thoughts.  Surround yourself with beauty: nature, music, family, friends, love, laughter, a nice glass of wine, or a good cup of coffee.  Celebrate not just the milestones, but the day to day, ordinary of life.  Take good care of yourself.  Do your best.  Say your prayers.  And believe in your wellness!

The Lesson of the Peas - Support!

Just two days ago, I picked the first peas from my garden!  I had just gone out to take a look at my weekend weeding plan, when I saw the pods.  Delicious.  They never made it into the dinner salad.  We just ate them off the vine.  I picked a few strawberries, checked on the peppers and tomatoes.  Everything is growing really well.

Yesterday, after work I came home to find the peas completely toppled.  What happened.  They had grown beyond their support and with nothing to grasp on to further, they had grasped on to each other.   Their little tendrils were twisted on to one another. Knotted.   The weight of supporting one another had caused them all to fall down together.

As I was working in the garden this morning, untangling the tendrils, tying the peas to the support I had bought, I was thinking about this lesson.  We are just like the peas.  We grow up staked in our support systems:   family and friends growing together.  We mature and sometimes grow beyond our support.  Letting go, we venture out on our own.    We meet with friends that are like we are.  Sharing the same likes and dislikes, the same interests.  And for a while, it's great.  We create.  We give fruit.  We flower.  And when we need support, we hang on to each other.

But if that support is not rooted in firm foundation, we'll topple.  Together.  It's up to us to choose that firm foundation.  For me, it's my faith.   For others, it's something else.  But for me, it's my Christian faith.  The lesson of the peas is a thought-provoking one for me.   The new support I put in the garden was put in right at the base...right at the family and friends level.  The support framework is Faith.  Faith, family, friends growing together create strength, support, growth.  They cause us to flower and bring forth fruit.  And that's delicious!

My garden today: June 24, 2011

The Post-Op Garden, Goals, & Miracles



My Garden - Six Weeks Post Op

 Back in April, with my upcoming surgery looming in the future, I set out to dig up and plant my garden.  Remember?  It took days of cleaning up the plot, pulling out the devil grass and weeds, adding new soil, watering, planting.  I knew that in the weeks to come, I wouldn't be able to dig.  Or bend.  Or use my arm.  My goal was to plant my garden before I had my mastectomy...so that all I'd need to do in the days after surgery is turn on the sprinkler and water.  And it happened.  This is a photo of my garden today...six weeks post op.  Time flew by.  A goal was set six weeks ago.  Now I'm looking at a garden that is thriving, growing, full of life.
Back in March when I got diagnosed with breast cancer round two, I knew there were things that I'd need to do to prepare for surgery.  I set another goal. 

Ani & I on graduation day - Six weeks post op

With Ani's upcoming graduation in June, I needed to make sure that I was well enough to attend this very important milestone.  In order to make it, there were things I needed to do: set my goal in my head and tell myself (okay, convince myself) that YES, I would be there at graduation with the cancer behind me.  Once I convinced myself, I needed to make it happen by making sure my healthcare team knew my intent.  So everyone involved knew I had a graduation to go to.  I think this helped tremendously as the team then became involved in my goal.  Not only were they trying to remove cancer from my body, they were working to get this mom to her daughter's graduation!  And it happened! Thank God, I am thriving. 

Like my garden, there are changes that are taking place every day.  Some are too subtle to see, even for me.  I am six weeks post op from breast cancer.  I am healing and will continue to heal for months to come.  My incisions are closed.  The bruising is almost all gone.  There is still soreness, especially under my arm and numbness throughout the breast and abdomen.  Phase two of reconstruction will happen in a few months so I'm not finished yet.  But I'm back to work.  I'm starting to be able to bend again (watch out weeds!)  And we are walking...training for Avon Walk for Breast Cancer in September (39 miles in two days!)

The other day, as I stood looking at my scars, I was commenting to Ani on what an amazing job my surgeon did.  Her comment to me was, "You know what's more amazing?  Your body's ability to heal.  The surgeon did the surgery; but it's your body that's doing all the healing."  Never thought of it that way. 

All of life is a miracle.  The idea that you can put a seed in the ground, water it, and with the help of good soil and sunshine, it will grow to a beautiful flower, or a juicy tomato.  Then there's the miracle of our daughters and sons, growing from babies to insightful, loving, caring adults.  The healing of our bodies.  The fulfillment of our dreams.  All of life.  Miracles.

Post Op Peppers



Post Op Peas



Looking to Graduation, and a Look Back on Ani

In just two days, my daughter Ani will be graduating with her Bachelors of Science in Nursing from Cal-State L.A.  This is the completion of a huge goal for her in her scholastic career; and it was a health goal for me.  Just a little over five weeks ago, I was treading the uncertain ground of mastectomy, reconstruction....breast cancer.  I had put Ani's graduation in my mind as a goal, and made it my wellness focus, letting everyone -- doctors, nurses, medical office staff, you name it -- know that I needed to be well and present at my daughter's graduation.  And by the grace of God, I am here.

As I sit here in the coolness of my dining room, she is still asleep nestled in the soft cocoon of her bed her crazy hair fluffed out all over her pillow.  It's been a busy quarter for her: putting in her precepting hours at the hospital, organizing the pinning ceremony for her class, finishing up her classes, juggling work at Children's Hospital on weekends, her relationship with her wonderful fiance, family, and being my personal nurse through my breast cancer surgery.

When the nurse first handed her to me, 24 years ago on that May morning in 1987, she looked up all wide-eyed and wet, so sweet and innocent.  I instantly fell in love with my daughter (though I think that started happening when she was in my belly).  But holding her right then and there, still fresh, we understood that this baby had been entrusted to us by God, such a blessing, for us to see through and love and care for.  And I have had the honor of being her mother through these years (and hopefully many more to come).

From a young age, she was crazy creative.  I'd put food coloring in her oatmeal and let her finger paint with her breakfast.  We pierced her ears at one because she kept taking my bangle bracelets and hanging them off her ears as earrings.  At age 3 she'd go through a box of watercolors a week, mixing colors, painting pictures.  She'd pick out her own clothes - wild combinations of colors, scarves, mix/matched shoes.  She'd take a nap in the laundry basket after the warm clothes had come out of the the dryer (hmmm...is this where the cocoon thing started?) Then came the make-believe.  We had the best toy chest in the neighborhood filled with all the costumes I'd sew for her, props from her dad's studio, and finds from mamajan's closet - Belle, Pocahontas, Princess Jasmine, Miss Maral's Arabic dancer, the orange polka dot Flamenco dance dress, the Armenian costume.  And then the packrat stage.  I'd find paper bags, purses, containers all over her room with the most random things: one pen cap, one bandaid, one gum ball.   One paperclip, one head band, one pink Barbie shoe.  (I don't think the packrat stage has truly ended yet.  : )

She has always been headstrong and a quick thinker.  Once, when she was about 3, I remember walking into her room and saying, "Ani, I want this room cleaned up!"  She turned around and sang to me the old Stones song...."You can't always get what you want!"

We went through some tough times too: breast cancer round one when she was six (the hugs from both Ani and my son Nareg helped me make it through); the divorce between Ani's dad and I, high school years with their secrecy and defiance, the "tragic youth" phase.  These were heartbreakers -- I think for both of us.  But we made it through with a lot of love and a lot of prayer.

And then the senior prom, her date that night with Eric, happy times.  High school graduation, college, jobs, the decision to become a nurse.  More goals.  Wedding proposal, engagement party, love, happiness.  Smiles.  Making a decision to work with children, getting offered the student nurse position at Children's Hospital.  School, study, more school...more study.  Getting offered the internship at Children's.  And now, just two days away from graduation, I'm sitting here looking back at all these years that have gone by in the blink of an eye!

We made it!  Ani, you are an amazing young woman.  I'm so proud of you.  I know the next few days will be filled with commotion, people, friends, family, rushing around, cooking.  But I wanted to thank you, for filling my days with love.  For your hugs and "I love you's".  For the countless text messages you send me to let me know you are safe.  For walking miles and miles with me - through the Avon Walk...and through life.  For being the best daughter I could hope for. 

I'll have to set new goals now.  Training for the walk in September, planning a wedding.  Living life, one day at a time, one blessing at a time.  Loving it all!

I have a prayer that I say after Ani leaves for work in the mornings - May God protect and keep you safe.  May you touch the lives of all those children that you help at your job and fill them with God's love - the love that you so abundantly have in your heart to help others - may it flow through you, to them and make their days a little less difficult because of your love and care. Asdvadz hedud, Ani!

May you always walk in God's light and love!!  Congratulations to my ShooShoo!

Memories of Grandma - or - Who's in the Mirror?

My grandmother lived in a duplex on the corner of our block.  She was a survivor of the Armenian genocide, a strong woman of faith, a proud American citizen, and an avid reader.  Se loved to knit, crochet and do needlework.  She also loved to garden.   I think because of the horrors she witnessed during the genocide, the beauty of her garden, the colors, the "life" it held were important and therapeutic to her.   She had a small vegetable garden in the courtyard of her duplex where she grew swiss chard, tomatoes and parsley.  While she tended to the garden, I would play waitress with her, pretending to take her order on an ivy leaf that was my pretend pad.   

She lived on the top floor of the duplex.  When you walked into her home, you would stare right at the stairs that led up to her living space.  Her house smelled like a mixture of palmolive soap and onions, and it was always cool in temperature in the grandma's house sort of way.   As a little girl, one thing that I remember are the large gardening shears that were always on the second stair of the staircase.  I remember how huge and sharp they looked, like old rusty giant's scissors.  My grandma would use these scissors to edge the grass of her front yard.  Not the garden itself, but the grass that grows in the sidewalk sections. 

She took a lot of pride in her garden.  Her knees were bad, and she'd sit on the sidewalk, one knee extended, one knee bent, and she would snip the grass where it hit the edge of the walkway, scooting herself down the plot as she worked.  Her flower garden was beautiful.  She grew fuschia flowers, the pods of which my brother and I would love to "pop" as they hung down in clusters.  She loved showy dahlias and roses, and most especially she loved to grow oriental poppies.  She would harvest the seed pods of the poppies and collect the seeds to put on her boregs and fresh baked bread.  Once she shared with me that when she and her friends were children in Armenia, she would work in the poppy fields, harvesting the pods for opium.  The beautiful red, ruffled blooms brought back happy memories of her childhood.

I've been thinking about my grandmother a lot lately.   When my life feels like it starts to get overwhelming, I think of her and her quiet strength, her faith, and her inner peace.  She had a soft face, a broad nose, her hair was long and always coiled into a bun that was pinned up at the nap of her neck.  Her stockings were knotted at the knees.  Plain.  No make up.  Basic.  Despite my health issues, compared to her life and what she had to endure as a survivor, raising a child as a single widowed mother, my life is a piece of cake. 

Lately, when I look in the mirror, I've been seeing my grandmother.  When I was young, I looked like my father; as I grow older, I look like my mother; but there are certain times, when my hair is pulled back, when I have no make up on, when I'm just plain ol' me when I look like my grandmother.  And last month, when my brother and sister came to visit me in the hospital after the mastectomy, I heard them whisper it to each other, "She looks like grandma!"  My ears heard it...and I was glad, because I thought I had been imagining it.

And the similarities don't end with looks.  I too like to knit and crochet, I love to read, and  I find a great peace in spending time in my garden.  Although I haven't had luck growing poppies, I do love to grow my vegetables and flowers.  Like her, I have bad knees and can't squat, so I do sit...and bend just like she used to. 

Yesterday, my sister Susan came over to help me weed the garden since I'm not able to pull and use my arm too well yet.  Two sisters-in-law, but truly more like sisters, we worked together - Susan turning over and loosening the dirt so that I'd easily be able to pick out the grass/weeds.  We cleaned up the garden together, talking, sharing while we worked.  And then just like my grandma, I picked up my gardening shears and trimmed the edge of the grass against the concrete.  We finished, and came into my cool house -- was it me? or did it smell like palmolive soap and onions?  I went into the bathroom to wash up, and there she was in the mirror.  I look like my grandma.  It's a nice reminder of someone that I miss and hold so dear.