Backbone

8 radiation treatments done, 8 to go. Half way there. At Kaiser Oakland in the new building, there are two rooms each with a state of the art machine that we funnel into. The technicians set it up each time for our unique and very precise alignment on the table so the beams can be directed as engineered. An x-ray is taken each time on each side to confirm before radiation starts and everyone leaves the room and heaves the door closed. It takes 3 feet of concrete to stop these beams and within the room is a 1% "scatter" of the dose. I had a hard time visualizing how the beams could go between the table and my body, and I learned that the table is made out of carbon fiber and the beams go through it. You meet with the radiation oncologist once a week, and I asked for visuals to understand where the beams are directed, since they don't bend. He led me out of the exam room and into his office, saying he doesn't do this for everyone. On one of his two giant computer screens, I saw mind blowing images of my body in a myriad of angles, sections and a color pivoting 3D model. There were my heart, lungs and breasts on the screen and we could scroll up and down my body. I was assured that if any other tumors were present they would be visible, which was a great relief and confirmation that having breast conserving surgery was the right choice.

Yesterday I had a meeting at SFO and with the rain and traffic, was 45 minutes late. I had to wait 35 minutes as women came on time for their appointments. If you go at the same time everyday, you see the same women, so I got to meet a few new faces, or new cases as it is. There is a camaraderie I feel as we wait in the skimmpy generic hospital gowns for our turn. I instantly feel a strong bond to them even though we are different sizes, shapes, skin colors and stories, we face the same challenges. I am one of the lucky ones that got to skip chemotherapy. Thank Goodness - Goddess.

Radiant Surfing

Radiation can be defined as energy traveling through space.

I just got home from my third treatment. I'm whipped tired. Can't imagine it's from the radiation already, but compounded by other stresses and dance last night, it's not surprising. The dance theme was Feet. Feet connect us to the ground, from sole to the soul. They can weigh heavy on the earth or bounce and skip along. Here we have feet surfing the life force that radiates up from the center of the earth. Or maybe this is someone drumming with their feet. I like how between the legs looks like a different dimension, as if with both feet firmly planted, you, too, can enter or hop on and take a ride.

Just a body

Yesterday I went for the radiation verification appointment. It was to confirm that the tatooes, stickers, and target markings placed on my body last week do in fact line me up for where the radiation beams needs to go. I was expecting to be shown a diagram of how the rays were going to hit my breast and how much would be going through my chest, but when I asked the three technicians for that they looked like deer in headlights. I was told that I will be seeing the Dr. on Wednesdays and to ask for that then, and did I want to wait for that before proceeding? Well it's not like I'm going to review the information and make my own recommendations, but it seemed legitimate to me to want to know what the percentage of "over spray" to my lungs and heart there might be. The breast cancer bible, Dr. Susan Love's book, says the doctors will discuss that with you. Not wanting to upset the schedule, I consented to lay down and get verified. Once I was in position, they took an X-ray and showed it to the Dr for his approval. With it, they asked if I wanted the first dose then and there. Why not? I was all set and it saves a trip on the back end, so the radiation has begun. I had to lay still for 30 minutes, which isn't that hard given the deep exhaustion I now live with. I can bring my ipod, although I must choose a track carefully because no finger movements allowed.

It made me feel like a casualty, just one of many women who go through this, another medical record number to undress, lay down, get in, line up, clear the room and ZAP. Afterwards, while driving home, I realized how lucky I am. The equipment is expensive and state of the art, the building is only a year old, the technicians are highly trained and the doctors are there to help. I have to remind myself that I have CANCER and that this is to prevent it from growing and killing me. I know that sounds ridiculous, but being asymptomatic, cancer is a snarky disease, psychologically and biologically.

The steri-strips are still on my scar, and I expected them to be removed, but not so. I hope the scar isn't burned and darkened because of it, but I was assured that 3 weeks after surgery is enough healing time. Later I went for accupuncture and promptly fell asleep on the table while the needles were stimulating my meridians. She recommended an herbal burn cream which I applied last night. It has a great texture, but every time I turned over in my sleep I kept wondering what that smell was, and by morning I relunctantly realized it smells somewhat like an ash tray. Oh well. Thanks to the 2nd surgery, my radiation is 16 doses instead of 28, so my radiation is minimal. I'll be going every day for the next 4 weeks, but that's it. Then Tamoxifen for 5 years. Not having to endure Chemo is a gift I try and remember everyday.

At Ezri's baseball game on Sunday I chatted with the coach's wife. She went through this beginning 3 years ago, when her boys were 7 and 9. A mammogram had found a lump in her left breast and then an MRI found her right breast riddled with cancer. She had a double mastectomy, chemo, radiation, reconstruction surgery and now they want her ovaries removed. She volunteered to take me to my first appointment (which I thought was today.) I took her up on it (I would love the company) gave her my address, and then she asked me my name! I can't tell you how much that means to me. "Support" is taking on a whole new dimension. Thanks for all of yours.

LifeForce

Healing is coming along. I took a much needed dose of dance medicine last night wearing 2 bras bound with an ace bandage (that kept slipping around.) I needed to go for the routine of it. Fast painting, inner world stretch out, breathing the music into my body, indulging in the support of a strong person who knows just where to be when I teeter, feeling the connection of energy with fellow dancers. The chi gurgled up and became Kundalini taut, electrified with my breath and the architype. To try not to overdo it, I sat for a bunch of songs and others sat with me to dance with just my hands and feet. Earlier I had been imagining holding someone’s head, it’s so intimate and loving. Then at one point C put her head on my lap and I stroked her hair back and told her how vibrant she felt. For the exercise I had M and C standing in a delta with hands on backs, breast to breast, letting the energy swirl through us. Very healing.
This morning my body feels great (back just a little tweeked) and my breast has it’s usual ache/pain at the site, so it was well worth it.

When I arrived and hung my painting up, I said to alter artist K, that they are all starting to look alike. She said it’s okay to paint the same thing over and over if that’s what needs to happen. During the dance I realized what the theme is that won’t let me go: Life Force. It wants to be acknowledged coming up from the earth and into my being. The paintings are trying to remind me that this is a good thing, something to cultivate and cherish.

I am so grateful for my paint dance practice and for those who make it happen and share it. I love all of you.

Booster avoided

Hi Loved Ones,
Thanks to the 2nd surgery and the successful achievement of clean margins, I will NOT have to have the radiation boost to the tumor site! Yeah..thank you Dr. L for scooping out some more! I had a CT scan yesterday to figure out the positioning of my body and the angle of the radiation beams. Next week I'll go for the "verification" meeting, so radiation will start after that and last 4 weeks. The fatigue is cumulative so they said expect weeks 5-7 to be part of treatment. That takes me to the end of June and then I'll start Tamoxifen. So I'm in good spirits. No exercise for weeks here so feeling chunky and stiff. Recovery from surgery has been harder the 2nd time around, but worth it. I've been working hard on my SFO furniture project so that has kept me focused. Today the bids were due at 10 so I feel like goofing off and taking a break, but still so much to do.
This heart painting was done over the weekend with the left over paint on my palette when it was time to clean up. I did a painting retreat with Robin all day Sat and Sun morning. The garden at P's house is gorgeous and it was hard not to just lounge and nap all day instead.

Late night Ramblings

So here I am blogging about my cancer journey. I get to dig into my archives and post paintings long since dried while I try and keep my family and friends up to date with my prognosis and treatment plan to rid cancer from my body and prevent it from coming back. I've gotten opinions and 2ned opinions and listened to their interpretations of the information and considered the statistics that I am told. I've just minimized my chance of a local recurrence having the 2nd surgery. Check. The probability of having a distant recurrence is now key. "The distant" part of that means a recurrence that is not in your breast next time around. Breast Cancer can "present" itself in a different organ or system. Sounds nasty, because it is. BC cells corrupt healthy cells in a distinctive unique way. If I can make it 10 years without a distant recurrence, it is the gold standard of survival. It means you have just as good a chance of dying from some disease other than breast cancer. Like heart or kidney failure. If I have radiation and survive 10 years, there might be the chance for the collateral damage from the radiation to express itself. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to die of something else after 3 more decades of good living. To get there, I have "quality of life" trade-offs. The radiation to my breast will kill the fast growing cells of the cancer lurking behind, dividing like speed demons trying to infiltrate the healthy cells. The trade off is radiation exposure on all the breast tissue, tighter skin, a really bad sun burn for 7 weeks and exhaustion. Not too bad, I guess that is tolerable.
After a few debilitating weeks of radiation, I'll start taking Tamoxifen. They recommend starting one after the other so we can tell what caused what side effects. One pill a day for 5 years. It will block the estrogen that my body still produces from being absorbed by my cells, the good ones and the cancerous ones, which use estrogen as fuel. They've ruined it for all my cells, including the ones that need estrogen to keep my mind functioning as best it can, my memory working enough to be able to open the front door of my own house, and my skin from drying out. Maybe I'll tolerate all that just fine, like the lucky women who don't lose their hair during chemo. And I've been lucky so far, not having to be facing chemo right now!

Staying alive trumps all those petty discomforts, after all, they are tradeoffs, and life itself is the highest purpose. Looking at my future life through the quality of life lens is a perspective I hadn't imagined viewing through just after turning 50. I was just getting used to the 5 as the first digit in my age. I had just started swimming a mile at a time instead of 3/4! I was dancing and hiking and feeling strong and alive. Five decades of being on this planet in this body and proud of it. Even if it is such a big number, half way to one hundred, half a CENTURY! I started my life in 1959. Someone 50 at that time would have been born in 1909! and they would have seemed really old then.

I was 1, 2, and 3 years old during the 3 seasons of MadMen Leon and I have been watching, escaping into since my cancer was "found out". Each episode consumes us. It's as if we are there, in the saturated colors of the early 60's, sitting in the Knoll chairs, driving the behemoths of Detroit's excess, zipped up tight with our hats and gloves in stylish Manhattan, stuck in the gender and race defined roles, sitting in the front row of the nascent business of advertising and seeing how those times influenced the culture I grew up in and live in now. Our Modern Times. After 40 minutes when I come back to my reality, I think, "oh yeah, I have Breast Cancer." With a capital B and C. In 1961 I probably would have had a double mastectomy by now.

Today on this beautiful May Day, I tried to lay still and heal. Leon took Ezri to a Cal baseball game, Aaron went to a climbing competition in Davis, and I was visiting all my lez friends in LA on the L Word.