a Cruel drug

I just searched these blogs with the tag "breast cancer" and "met" fellow bloggers dealing with BC. those lucky one in eight that are members of this rotten club. It is such an emotional roller coaster. The Tamoxifen continues to reveal its affects on me, blocking my estrogen and tweaking my body. A little league mom who is a year ahead of me on this BC journey said "Tamoxifen is a cruel drug." That says it all. It's robbing me of the natural unfolding of menopause. The journey of becoming a wise old crone has become a journey of recurrence avoidance and down shifting from 5th gear into 3rd gear...lots of grinding and surprises. Not a smooth ride. there is always something odd now going on with my little body. Last year someone who had cancer told me that "every little ache and pain you feel you'll ask yourself if it's cancer." I remember thinking, no I won't....but guess what??? Yes I do!

The Center Line

The theme for was "the Center Line...moving with Balance." Look how the painting lines up as a head dress for the buddha...and the dancer is supported, the feet wedged in. This painting is inspired by a new dancer to our group who spins from the center line so elegantly and with verve and passion. I can barely keep up with her. I'm good for a song at a time, but now I am learning to follow the slower rythmns to accomodate my "new normal" of energy. Slowing down isn't as much fun, but showing up and giving it my all is worth a lot.

Hello Friends, The ultrasound didn't reveal anything to worry about...it's dense in there and the scar tissue makes it hard to read so the radiologist recommended a breast MRI, but for now, I'm clear. With my new job comes new insurance, so leaving Kaiser is scary, but now onto Blue Cross/Blue Shield. The Mondor Disease, the blood clot under my arm along my ribs that goes into my left breast, reads as calcification on the mammogram and that is what the radiologist wanted to look at more closely. One doctor says take it easy, two say keep swimming and dancing to promote circulation. I swam on Saturday and yesterday I dropped my sister off at the airport and went dancing last night! Thanks for all your support.

Life just keeps on coming

I'm making calls, going out on appointments, learning all about a new company, fixing dinner, keeping up with my 3rd grader's anti-social behavior, my teenager's experimentation with alcohol, my partner's business struggles, my own schedule of dance, swim and paint. Wow, it's alot to keep up with and I am once again being challenged by my left breast. I had what felt like a bruise on my side, and although there was nothing visual on my skin, it has evolved into what the Dr. says is Mondor Disease, a blood clot that makes the vein underneath visible. It comes up my side and then into my left breast. Coincidentally, it was time for a mammogram and they have called me in for an ultrasound to further explore. The radiologist said with the scar tissue and breast density, it's hard to tell what's going on. Dr. ONeal says she feels a swollen lymph node and while I'm there tomorrow, I should have them ultrasound that, as well. If it seems suspicious, ask for a biopsy, although it could be from the blood clot. "blood clot" sounds horrible, but supposedly it's not the kind that could travel into my heart or lungs and take me out instantly. The remedy is an aspirin a day and warm compress. Since the two surgeries a year ago, my breast has all kinds of weird sensations going on. Now it is more than ever...psychosomatic or is something really going on?

Last night in dance I saw how easily I am blown off my center. The theme was "moving from the center line.... In a balanced state." I have always been easy to rock, and yesterday was no exception. I just wanted to cry and hit "start over" so I might do things differently, create a life that wasn't so full of stress. Yet I do know that it is not what the stresses are, we all have them, it's how we carry them. I carry them as big heavy burdens wanting direction and decision, two things that challenge me on the simplest level...like what to eat or when to shower.
I'm reminded of an inflatable clown that you can punch and it gets knocked over but always comes back to standing. I need that kind of resilience.
Again, the challenge is to stay present in the moment and appreciate what I do have, and not let the fear of the what might happen ruin my NOW.

New Beginning

Hi Friends, I'm off to Chicago today to train for my new job, as a sales rep for No. California for Agati Furniture. My SFO project isn't quite finished, lots of delays at the airport, they are running construction crews 3 shifts, but the terminal 2 looks great and I can't wait to fly out of it in the future. THe furniture is almost all installed. It's been a great project for 1 1/2 years, now on to Agati.

Here is last week's painting. the theme was Unity Consciousness, that we all tap into the same life force. I intended to paint the life force coming from below, but instead what emerged was life force side-to-side. In the class, Eva had us stand in a circle and hold hands and imagine our roots intertwined, reaching to the center of the earth. It was a wonderful sensation, to be a part of. I realized my side-to-side imagery suggests we are all connected to each other.

In my last post, I wrote that I'd finally given myself permission to paint breasts. Three people have told me I am "delusional," that in fact I have painted breasts many times. So I went through my archives and sure enough, I found a few paintings with breasts, one that you see here. But allow me to make a distinction: I have painted breasts before, but I realize they were in the context of fear, pain and disease. This time around it was breasts in terms of pure pleasure (hence the fancy nipples.) I plan of giving myself permission to paint them again and again!
Thanks for reading and offering me feedback.

Permission

Eva sent me the dance theme this afternoon, "The seeds of intention. When you intend something, then you help create it. The intention of Pleasure, Well Being and Wholeness." I figured the seeds of intention are in the mind. Pink for pleasure, brown for wholeness, blue for the gratitude of being alive in a body. I immediately focused in on "pleasure"and finally gave myself permission to paint breasts. As the clock was pushing 7:00, I added the fancy nipples, using gold shimmery paint and white, as if it were icing on the cake. So, in my mind, there was no doubt that these are breasts, but then a man at dance thought they were testicles, which I really appreciate. When I came home, my older son said I should start painting something BESIDES breasts for a change!!!!! and here I am feeling like I just gave myself permission to paint them for the first time! ....Like the Woody Allen movie when the screen splits and Woody is on one side telling his therapist that they never have sex, only 3 times a week and Diane Keaton is on the other side saying they have sex all the time, 3 times a week. It's all a matter of perception.
The painting was a big hit with fellow dancers. It amazes me that I can be reading the theme at 5pm, stare into a blank sheet of paper on the wall an hour late, shush my critique and trust that I can paint something, using my old smelly, dried out and cracked tempera paints. In a way I wish they were sand paintings, done with love and care and only meant to last a few hours. My paintings are witnessed for two hours,and then sit in the warehouse on a shelf gathering dust. And what to do with them when I move? They are so big. I really would like to have a show, I just have no energy to put into creating one. Where? to frame or not to frame? push pin into the walls? put price tags on them? print the greeting cards and sell them at the show? or continue to appreciate the extemporaneous value of creativity?

Tonight I felt like an artist with a vision, a calling, a purpose. I want to take two photographs of my girlfriends. One chest shot (no head, no arms, no belly) with naked breasts and one chest shot with a beautiful neckline. Then I want to paint a picture of their breasts and a beautiful neckline. The image can remind us to touch ourselves and remember that our breasts are sweet and delicious. They are designed to nourish and they offer and receive pleasure. I want to celebrate them instead of sexualize them, I want to honor them instead of fear a cancer lump in them. Some one at dance told me about organic breast oil, found at the Grand Lake Farmers market. You rub it in with your hands circling around on your breast 37 times. It nourishes them and helps you get to know their texture and lumps. I want to get some and start right away!

This is the first painting I did at the anniversary workshop. You might say it was the warm up. The paint feelings like painting with mayonaise, very juicy and smooth. This painting was damaged and I gave it to Ezri's art teacher to cut up for collage at his school.

Alter Feb 17, 2011

Anniversary

A year ago February 4th I was diagnosed with cancer,Breast Cancer. It's hard to believe a year has passed and that the ordeal is behind me, because truthfully the fear of a recurrence is with me every time I eat something. I wonder if my body is growing more cancer and if I'm eating enough anti-cancer foods. I know I eat too much sugar. It's hard to feed my boys what they will eat and make what I should be eating.

To mark the year, I treated myself to a weekend painting workshop with Stewart Cubley of Process Arts. It was his class, the Painting Experience, that I took back in 1988 that helped me pick up where I left off in 3rd grade, painting for fun and not concerned about the product. The workshop was at Fort Mason and it was a gorgeous weekend, sunny and warm. For the past 3 years my paintings have been fast, done in an hour or so before the dance class starts at 7, a useful deadline that has become an incredibly fertile practice. But in the workshop, I painted on one big painting for hours, adding two more sheets the second day and making it even bigger. "I surrender, I pray, and I expunge." I indulged in layer upon layer, quietly patternizing and getting into the groove. In that process, I had a sensation that "trust" was a physical feeling. If I could feel that sensation, I could trust.

I took this painting for the alter last week and it was great to get some distance on it. I've included a photo of the alter...thanks to Kathleen's vision...as usual, the painting came and fit in perfectly

There is a part of me that wants my life to be different, to have better relationships, to be a better parent, to challenge myself, to feel more satisfaction with myself.
I can acknowledge even the tiniest successes and expand on those. I am the gracious leader of my inner cast of characters and I lovingly heal them one by one. I treat all parts of me with compassion and understanding.
I have strengths and positive qualities. I have follow through. I have patience. I can look ahead and see what is needed. I have perceptive insights that I can take action on. I can acknowledge that these strengths are a part of me, no matter how small. I can contact these strengths within myself and enlarge them.

Support

I had a Shamanic Healing session with Veena, who calls herself Laughing Dolphin. She is amazing. An East Indian from Singapore, traveling the world to share her visions.

I showed her this drawing, "Save Yourself". She asked me, "what parts serve me? and what parts don't? and when cutting those parts out, go for big margins! My intention is to trust my intuition in every waking moment, as I do in my dance.

I have her recorded meditations on my ipod, so when she began, asking me to relax and be guided, I was able to drop right in and breath deeply from the center of my soul.  Tuning into my energy, she channeled different elements; guardian angels had a message for me, the Grandmothers sang to me, and, of course, laughing dolphins came through, along with the Goddess Kwan Yin and a hebrew prayer (and she didn't know that I am jewish )

The Sound of My Name

The dance theme last night was hard to wrap my head around,

"our true name" - that name, that sound that is the rhythm of our heart, the flow or our breath, the movement
of the blood in our veins... It is how we show up, it is how we listen to
what has heart and meaning - without judgement and attachment to outcome.
This is where our true name lies...

So I painted the Sound of My Name. I just went with my favorite symbol, my favorite brush, and painted long luxurious strokes. I love the image. It's big and bold. It makes me think of rototiling the earth.

In my last blog I complained about feeling alone, and many people contacted me to remind me that is not true, and I know that. It was a weak moment, one of fear getting the best of me, when I know gratitude is what calms me. After a long swim, (I'm back to swimming a mile, as I did in my 20's, only back then I could do it in 30 minutes, now it takes 45, but I am NOT complaining!) I focused on what is right in my life and after wards I felt fantastic. (thank goddess for endorphins).
Last night, feeling strong and grounded, I had a great dance. I'm beginning to see myself as one of the "elders" there, one of the more "developed" dancers who can drop in deep and move their body into many positions to during different tempos...slow movements with deep breaths to fast movements with limbs and sweat flying! What a practice. There was a young woman there for the 2nd time, maybe she is 25, and she reminded me of my first few times, copying others movements and laughing the whole time as her body moved in new ways. She admired me and said she couldn't keep up! Our movements in daily life are so limited in range. Most, like driving and typing are forward movements. On the dance floor one can move side-ways or backward and build lateral strength, stepping out with wide arms and horizontal legs.
I went to the Dance Performance at Berkeley High and it was fabulous. Fresh music, great choreography, high energy. It was a challenge to stay seated!

Fire of Awareness

This painiting is from December 2010 and the theme was a challenge. Eva had asked, how can we have the light of awareness and the compassion to hold all of our parts?... the good, the bad and the ugly? I couldn't separate light from fire. I imagined it would take a strong person to hold the light or be in the fire and to be compassionate with oneself while looking into your own darkness. This strong man emerged holding an offering of compassion, while being inside the caldron. Here is someone so strong, they can remain calm and offer presence while standing in the heat. I feel in the crucible. What I have taken for granted is up for grabs. Nothing is certain, the future is unknown. Can we stay in this house? Shall I take the job offer and risk changing health insurance? Will my sons be able to stay in Berkeley schools? Will I move and start over in a new community, will I be able to afford to keep everything afloat? I feel so alone, yet I know it comes down to trusting myself, and you don't need other people for that. Painting allows me to practice trust. The images I paint onto the paper continue to surprise me, and that I can trust the process and not get in the way of the imagery that takes shape. As I view the painting during the dance, I can see myself in the vessel, with no way out except through. Paint paint paint. Tomorrow is Wednesday so we will see what the theme is and what emerges. My studio space is up for sale/lease, so it's days are numbered...another unknown.

This is where I stand

I have been continuing to paint, but out of my routine of photographing and posting them. Maybe because it's so freaking cold in my studio, getting in to paint is all I can muster. But the process continues and life goes on. The theme last week: "This is where I stand." I started out painting a body with hands overhead and it looked like it was jumping on a trampoline, so the legs were covered up with a heavy cloak and the earth's red energy coming up from the center of the earth into the body for grounding and the yellow energy of universal love coming down through the crown for healing energy. They meet at the heart and melt into orange. Happy New Year. I'm looking forward to a good 2011.

Robert Becker

My brother Andy called on New Years day to say our friend Robert Becker died of a massive heart attack at 3am Florida time. He was 48. I can still see him at age 4, a blonde haired, skinny thing with a big smile and a penchant for mischief, running around in the summer at the Jewish Center in Long Beach where we went every afternoon to swim and hang out while our moms played Maj Jong. So many moons ago. He leaves his beautiful 15 year old daughter Hailey and wife Anne-Marie. He's the little brother of Mark, one of my brother Andy's oldest and best friends. I hung out with them at the Strawberry Music Festival for years, before we all had kids and were foot loose and free.

I've had my face off with a serious illness that threatens to take me out of the game, but I was lucky. He was not aware that his heart was working too hard or his arteries were clogged or whatever happened. He didn't have a chance. One minute toasting his brother and friends in California long distance and a couple of hours later, dead. It is so final. It is hard to accept. No opportunity to say we love him, that he is one of the funniest guys on the planet, especially when in the same room with Andy, Dale and Mark. He is the first one my age in our circle to die. Not what anyone would want the prize for.

I am plagued by fear of a recurrence. I dutifully take my tamoxifen every night and suffer through hot flashes that ruin a good night's sleep and force me to strip down to my undershirt on a plane home from Chicago. Thankfully it the undershirt was black and I had a scarf to cover up with as I made my way to the head. I have sensations, some painful and others not, in my breast that makes me wonder what's going on in there, residual reminders of two surgeries. Now I have pain in my chest that feels like a boot is standing on me, a feeling in the center of my core, behind my heart chakra. In the same vicinity that the three cancer tumors were removed. The pressure is back with a vengence. I swam a mile twice last week and then again yesterday, and afterwards and all today I have been uncomfortable. I did some deep breathing and yoga movements before dinner and it is definitely my lungs. Last year I had a chest x-ray and it was clear. The diagnosis is stress and anxiety, which isn't hard to believe, I certainly have a ton of stress in my life. Plus the fear that it really is a hidden tumor or pleurisy or something horrible that hasn't been revealed yet. I keep trying to breath into it, meditate, dance, relax, take things in stride, make decisions that will make my life easier, yet the pain in the center of my being remains. I need to find the balance of what is in my control and what isn't, and "the wisdom to know the difference."

Ease, Trust, Confidence

The image of a spade came to me when someone asked me to take the shape of feeling confident and trusting. I put my hands together on my chest and I felt the shape of a spade, the inverse, if you will, of the heart. In the painting, the spade pulls up energy from below, like roots of a tree. These roots look more like jet flames and the energy suggests rocket power!

Witness

Eva's theme came in today as the witness.

I painted the dancing skirt being witnessed. The skirt is in the spot light, held with Witness' gaze, tuned with his blessings. Skirt moves gracefully, confident that her breath is leading her to a deeper place. A place unknown, but she trusts she'll be ok. After all these years of being witnessed and held in the dance, she can trust in each moment how to move or stay still, waiting to feel the inclination to move from within. She's learned to wait patiently to contract and expand. She can trust each moment. If a dancer comes along and groves with her, she can trust it is safe to drop in with another, and the moment she doesn't share the grove or feels inclined to dance away, she does. Let the evening unfold as it may. Witness confirms she has permission.


In the dance tonight, Eva led us to breathe in a blessing for our selves, and to breathe out through our skin blessings for others. Take the time and feel the blessing deep with in at the center of our core, the inner blessing of life force traveling through us.

Someone said my painting looks like a mermaid sitting with a dancer on her tale and scales coiled around her torso.

Eva emailed:

Dear Lauren
The theme today will be the Hara point again. Bring your painting from last
week, too.... For me the Hara point is, where the power and strength of the inner dancer lives..
Hugs to you my dear
Love
Eva
Looking forward what you are coming up with today

This is the first time I have painted the same theme two weeks in a row. Last week was energy points along the life force line without the physical body. This week, I imagined myself as I lay on the floor and do my warm up. I breathe into my core. It takes concentration to balance and strength to stay in this form for a minute or two.

In the painting, the background circles represent other Hara points all around, people in my life, people on the dance floor. The washed out circles below are bigger and represent our ancestors, Hara points linked to me genetically.

Hara Point

Dance theme from 10-8-10:

Our theme today and next week is "support" .
Today we will go into the inner support of the Hara point, which is one of the energy centers along the center line.

Facing the blank paper, I started with the Hara point. I kept intending to add a figure, to draw a body, but it didn't work out. I kept painting energy points along the Life Force, yet the body did not present.

I've been reading the Power of Now and meditating on "beingness." Here it is. The life force that is not dependent on the body to be seen. Maybe the lesson of having cancer is to cultivate my spirit being and worry less about my body being. Of course, I want to stay in my body as long as possible, but maybe if I develop a strong sense of being, when I do lose my body, my spirit will move on in another form.

To my surprise, fellow dancers loved this painting. It is fun to let something unknown emerge. And trust it. Trust my process. Trust my dance. Trust myself. Getting there one painting at a time.

Being Held

"The dance theme today is again the 360 degrees. This time we use the image of the tree to explore the space around us with arms, mobilize the arms... And reinhabit the space around us on all sides. Invite all sides of us. ... The underlying theme also is to not go on autopilot on the dancefloor but to stay engaged. Looking forward what you come up with. Big hugs E"

This is what I came up with. People dancing in community, filling space above, below, in front, beside and behind them. In a faceted world. Now I see it as my family, bound together in a house of cards, vulnerable to falling through the cracks. I try and keep the yellow field strong for them, offering love and support so that they don't slip through the bars. There is only so much I can do in my compromised energy level? Am I doing the right things? Should I be doing more? Is there enough structure that I can do less? let go? focus on myself? Go out into the world 10 hours a day to bring home the bacon and provide a roof over their heads, money to pay for their activities, and have health insurance to stave off disaster? Is it too much for me to handle or do I trust myself to persevere and believe we will still be connected and loving when some of it falls apart?

Days of Awe

As I sat in prayer with the Chochmat Halev community on erev Yom Kippur, I drew this.

At dance we sometimes brush each other, to cleanse and ground. I like to end by putting my hands on their feet, to feel the connection to the earth.

I wrote my first poem last night:

In my dance:

I am witnessed
I witness others

I receive
I offer

I love
I am loved

I am open
I can forgive

I can choose not to let fear color my beautiful precious moment of now
I can trust that I shall do whatever has to be done to stay present, open, and healthy.

Calm amidst Chaos

That was the theme for last night's dance. I painted chaos around the figure and it was too much for me so I took white and tried to smooth it over, which did calm it and me down.
During my dance I was thinking of the big ugly scar on my breast, and how a buddhist friend said it could be a reminder of the impermanence of life. I've been considering that now for a couple of months and I find it is instead a reminder to open my heart and feel gratitude. I am thankful for all that I have.

Acknowledgment

I got home from SF and saw an email that the theme at dance tonight was Acceptance. After we shed that which is no longer needed, what do we have when we let go? Ourselves. Can we accept all parts of ourselves? I painted a person in meditation, because when I sit, I can feel that everything is just as it should be. I can accept that all is right with each breath and that is all I need to concern myself with in that moment. I ran the painting over to dance at 6:15 because tonight was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, 5771. I sacrificed a night of dance because I wanted to go to services at Chochmat Halev. I felt like sitting in community, in meditation and gratitude for being inscribed in the book of life for another year. I went by myself, for myself. I didn't want to cajole anyone into going. It was a smaller crowd this year, but I saw many familiar faces and sat with a close friend and his mom. The music was lovely and the singing delightful. There was even a dancer to one of the prayers and we all stood and followed her motions. I saw a mom we knew from pre-school and thought of a family we sat next to at back-to-school night last night. The woman thought we looked familiar but couldn't place us. She told me her name, which is a distinctive persian name that I remembered. I asked if she had an older child, maybe we knew her through Aaron's friends. She said she did have an older son who was at Berkeley High, but he was killed in a car accident in March. When I thought of her boy, Kyle, I started to cry, letting the sadness of it touch my heart. Rabbi Sarah Leya asked those in the first year of mourning to stand and say the kaddish, and even though I never met her son, I stood for him and said the prayer, tears streaming down my face. Later, at the end of the service, we were asked to all stand up and hold our hands up palm to palm in a healing circle, and those who needed healing could stay in the center. The circle was quite large around the perimeter of the volumous space and I automatically got up to be a link in the chain. Another friend motioned that I should go into the center to receive the healing. I feel fine and I want to believe there is no cancer left in my body, but she was right. I wanted to receive healing energy. I sat next to my friend's husband and took his hand without saying a word. Almost immediately tears began to stream down my face again. I let my own sadness come through. I hummed along with the vibration of the circle. A tear rolled down my cheek and along my chin and dropped into my blouse, landing on my breast right where the tumors had been.

Back to it.

Last week I was back in Berkeley dancing with my homies of Core Connexion after taking the summer off, so I hadn't been painting. The theme was letting go of elements no longer needed, like a tree sheds it's leaves in the fall. I imagined a flower, and how sometimes one needs to consciously pick the wilted petals to let new life grow in it's place.

Big Sky and Glaciers

Hi Friends,

Thanks for checking in from time to time to catch up with me. I had sent 15 yr old Aa off to Costa Rica for 4 weeks and decided that I, too, needed a getaway. I wanted big sky and water and someone suggested Alaska. I found a 6 day kayaking trip that looked fabulous, but then realized it was overly ambitious. So instead, my sisthar met me in Seattle and we boarded the ms Rotterdam with 1500 other people and 600 crew. We "sailed" passed Canada to south east Alaska, experiencing everything from thick fog, choppy seas and strong winds to smooth water, bright sun light, gorgeous skies and beautiful clouds.
Now I'm home, feeling refreshed and relaxed. I actually forgot about my troubles for a few days. Aa is home and he had an "awesome" time. He arrived home the night before I came in and he surprised me while I was waiting for my luggage. He looked healthy and strong with a wide smile and he gave me a big hug. I wanted to cry. Four weeks was the longest I had been away from him for 15 years.

Commonweal Organization

Saturday I spent the day "in retreat" at the Yoga Healing Center in San Francisco, sponsored by the Commonweal organization for cancer patients. Among other things, Commonweal runs the Cancer Help Program, which addresses the unmet needs of people with cancer. I first heard about the center from reading Rachel Noami Remen's book, Kitchen Table Wisdom, back in 1997. It told the stories of those affected by cancer and how with the aid of Dr. Remen, they were able to connect to aspects of themselves that allowed their healing to unfold, whether that meant living longer or living more fully with the time they had left. That book, along with Stephen Levine's Healing into Life and Death, was a book I felt compelled to gift to people many times. I now realize I need to find another copy and re-read it.

The day was guided by the experience and love of the Commonweal staff and attended by a handful of other women affected by cancer. Sharing my story and hearing theirs, was poignant and touching. One of my challenges is to balance hope for the future with the threat of recurrence. Some women have been revisited two and three times, a devastating blow. The possibility is real and always hanging over one's head. We did yoga and had a delicious vegetarian meal prepared by Rebecca Katz. She joined us for a discussion of foods and recipes and we were all given her book, The Cancer-Fighting Kitchen. It was inspiring. At the end of the day, after a guided meditation, I left the center and walked along the streets of the Marina district to the water at Crissy field. I felt strong and warm (with blustering winds, fog rolling in and my jacket wrapped around my head) and hopeful that cancer won't define my life.

Tamoxifen

Yesterday I finally took my first Tamoxifen pill, one down 1824 more to go (5 years worth.) I had been putting it off, waiting to feel "normal" after the radiation treatment, or at least regain my stamina, but that was asking a lot. It was 5 months to the day I was diagnosed and it being July 4th and all, I put the pill in my pocket and left for E's baseball game. Sitting in the bleachers around noon, I quietly took it. It was that simple, and yet so complex. The thought of slamming into menopause and joining the ranks of hot flashers has been hanging over my head, it feels like the final end to my youth, in one easy swallow. The opportunity to slide gracefully into the next phase of womanhood while still parenting an 8 year old is not an option, because I really don't want more cancer to deal with. So side effects, depending on my body's reaction, are the trade off.

A couple of hours later in conversation with another little league mom, she revealed her diagnosis date and time of day from two years ago, her choice of mastectomy and chemo, and her daily intake of Tamoxifen and a pill that keeps cancer from returning in your bones. (Interesting. She is on the faculty at the UC school of public health and upon her diagnosis, changed all her insurance so she could go to UCSF, citing it as the cutting edge in breast cancer research. They recommend the bone pill and a pelvic sonogram as a baseline for uterine cancer, one of the Tamoxifen side effects.) Aside from those juicy suggestions, what she said that really resonated with me, is that over a year later, she still has a hard time accepting menopause at 44.

"A hard time accepting." Yes. I am not alone.

Distance

My 9th grade son, ADMS, left for Costa Rica last night for 29 days. I had signed him up for this trip soon after my future was rocked with knowledge of breast cancer. I couldn't imagine planning camping trips and keeping him busy, so I thought...get him out of Dodge...and immerse him in Spanish. I might have sent him to East LA given his attitude of late, but I saw an organization mentioned on BPN called Education without Borders. He'll be living with a family in rural Costa Rica and then working on an organic coffee farm and making smokeless stoves. I hope he learns a lot of Spanish and works hard and breaks a sweat for more than 20 minutes at a time. I imagine a couple of hours of hard labor would really do magical things for him, but I know it's wishful dreaming on my part. At 15 he needs his butt kicked, at least in this mother's opinion. I keep trying to give him limits but he does what he pleases and I end up yelling and then feel guilty for losing my cool (which starts at warm so I'm always half revved up to begin with). The immediate gratification of screaming is needed to relieve the pressure I build up in my little body when he disobeys me and leaves at will and comes home when it suits him, with complete disregard for any curfew I set. In my transition from parent as manager to parent as consultant, my expectations are going bonkers....too high....too low. My words now have no value while his values have been reduced to one: make each decision based on the most immediate gratification (which gives us a lot in common).

The dance theme was breath and inspiration. I painted the body and the heart and had a lot of white paper left with 20 minutes to go. I needed to speed it up and picked out a brush I never use. I started painting the background circles, thinking of all the hustle and bustle of daily life that challenges my serenity. I choose mis-matched colors and let myself go wild. During the dance, when I get to see the painting from a distance instead of up close, I saw the white strip the figure is sitting on as the plane where body meets spirit. It's the plane I try and get to during meditation (not that I meditate that often.) It's like the thin creme filling of a chocolate mint, subtle yet rewarding, sandwiched between the darkness.

This week I am feeling stronger, able to taste the sweetness of life.

The radiation fatigue is lightening up and I'm starting to feel better. It's been almost 5 months of living with the knowledge I have cancer. Now I need to start living with the sense that the cancer has been eradicated and I've survived it. I am now a BC survivor. (time to get a pink ribbon for the back of the car ?) I'm in the process of revamping my attitude and making changes to my life to increase zest. Dance and paint. I read a book called "Cancer As A Turning Point." It's premise is that the key to boosting your immune system is to find what in life lights your fire, makes you want to hop out of bed in the morning and gives purpose to your days; to do NOW what you have put off for the future, to take more control of some things and give up control of other things. Finding that balance is the challenge, but posting my paintings to share with all of you is a big thrill for me.
Thanks for tuning in and looking!

Dance Retreat

Last weekend I took a retreat. It was the 3rd year that I went with Core Connexion to the Land of the Medicine Buddah for a weekend of movement and authentic exercise. It is in the Santa Cruz mountains; beautiful land, hot weather, delicious vegetarian food and a peaceful community. Eva creates a space where I feel comfortable to be myself and feel what's true. I hesitated to sign up this year, given how tired I'm feeling from the radiation. But then I remembered what was going on for me last year. I'd just celebrated my 50th birthday with a blow out party in the rug showroom. I had put all my paintings up and had over 90 people come to help dance and celebrate. It was a blast and I felt 50 and fabulous. But a week later at the retreat, I was again feeling the pressure on my chest that I hadn't been able to shake since it started the previous August. During the first or second dance session last year I had had to stop and step out because I felt like a boot was standing on my chest. It was painful and scary. My friend J had recently experienced a heart attack and I wondered if my heart was diseased or compromised. When I got home, I saw my Dr. for a physical exam, an EKG to test my heart and a chest x-ray. Everything was fine and the only explanation for the pressure I felt was stress. Now here it was a year later and I was back at the dance retreat after two surgeries to excise 3 cancer tumors that were right at the spot where the boot pressure had been. Interesting.

So despite my fatigue and increasing burn pain from the radiation, I decided to go. I didn't have the same joi de vive that I usually exhibit, in fact, during each of the 4 dance sessions I had to step out for the high energy songs, but Eva was so understanding and gracious to accommodate whatever I needed and to let me know when to come back in to participate in the exercises. We drew with pastels, witnessed each other dance, wrote words for others and then poetry from those words about our dance. Very powerful and fun to spend time in that deep world of somatic expression.

Saturday afternoon R, a fellow dancer, offered me a healing session. I had no idea what that meant, but I gratefully accepted. I layed down and he sat next to me with his drum. He coached me to imagine going underground to meet my spirit guide. I chose a spot in Joshua Tree that had held me a few weeks ago and I visualized going under ground there. I met a wolf and it seemed so predictable. I asked if he was my spirit guide and the answer was no. I met a fox and it seemed too sneaky, and the answer was no. I saw a cobra snake and really wanted it to be my guide, but I figured I had created that image out of desire and maybe it hadn't presented itself authentically, but as I continued, the snake wrapped itself around my ankle and tripped me. I tried to get up, but instead the snake and I were swimming like dolphins in a cave. So Cobra snake as spirit guide it is.

Wednesday's dance theme: "To hold space for yourself and the dance..."

I tried to hold that theme in mind as I went into the studio, but I really wanted to paint a snake. Now I can see I did paint a space for myself and the dance, in a container with a wide brim and a snake to hold me. To dance and be held, yet open to possibility. That is what i love and that is just what happened. Thank you Eva and the Core Connexion community!

Elaine Young: September 24, 1921-June 9, 2010

I got the call at 9:30 in the morning that E had died. After 9 days of no food or water, her spirit and body parted ways. She has left a void and we will miss her. This painting is dedicated to her.

In the afternoon I emailed Eva for the dance theme for tonight. Eva wasn't sure where she was going with it and called to chat. I felt honored to be included in the conversation and discuss the important matters of life: breathing, grounding and being witnessed. How our body defines inner and outer space. She began with the core. It can be hard like a mountain, flow like the ocean, be wide like the sky and warm like the sun. Or it can be nothing; emptiness, nothing and everything. In the studio, I started with a circle in the center that came out squat like an egg. I painted around it, and as the surrounding colors and images evolved, I came back to the center void. It needed to be bigger and as I painted it become a round shape of nothing, all white. No boundaries. I thought of Elaine, who after 88 and half years, left her body on the surface of the earth and dissolved. As I painted ripples in the water and shadows on the mountains, I thought of Elaine leaving behind the material world that we still enjoy, the vistas, colors and beauty. I really wanted to keep painting and I was running out of time. 7 o'clock was creeping closer and I have to allow travel time to get it to the alter. It was 6:48. What more did the painting call for? A boundary around the white circle? a line to define it? or let it just be?... I went for it. I quickly outlined the circumference using different colors, two thin lines each, and then regretted it.
Looking at it after K and I pinned it to the wall in the space, I saw those outlines representing the what we use to define our being with; our mind, our emotions and our physical body. The line is the definition of our presence here and now Elaine is not. I guess I wasn't ready to accept that she is gone. Maybe I'll go back and paint the outline out when I am ready.

Today was also my last radiation treatment. Sixteen doses. Whew. The Dr. told me the side effects peak a week or two after treatment ends, the gift that keeps on giving, but nonetheless, I felt a milestone had been reached. Beams of radiation have been aimed into a specific area of my body with laser precision. It has left a burn patch on my skin with a clearly defined tan line, distinct boundaries, but it doesn't match any bathing suits I have and the color is more orange than a dark tan. All the fast growing cells in my left breast and surrounding chest have been killed. The healthy cells have been struggling for their lives and have increased my appetite with their demand for nutrition, feed me! The cancer cells are history, hasta la vista, sayonara, kapoot, being dismantled and re-absorbed as I write. Thank you high tech modern medicine.

I celebrated by dancing. I found a scarf in my dance bag that I used after surgery to reign myself in and tie my arm to my side. I used it to blindfold myself and create a boundary between my inner attention and relating to others. I let the music move through my body and breathe into each muscle one by one. I tune in and find where my breath is needed next. In the dance I can feel the delight of my body, moving, beating, shaking, swaying. It is nourishing, the opposite of empty, it is a refueling.

Crossing over

I am very close to my cousins B and K and love them dearly, including K's mother E, who is 88. E had a fall earlier this year and broke her wrist and suffered a concussion. As we know, injuries like that are hard to bounce back from. E was independent, living alone in Rossmoor and driving back and forth to visit her daughters, both in Oakland. She was a designer and made her living from her handicrafts, from making check book covers for Gumps in the 70's and 80's to sewing custom clothes and coats. Elaine was a self-made woman and I always enjoyed visiting her in the quiet and beauty of Rossmoor in the Tice Valley of Walnut Creek. Her small one bedroom apartment is chock full of antique chairs she had reupholstered herself, ornately framed portrait drawings, flowware plates and black metal candellabbras. It is crowded with hand crafted wooden boxes and over sized hand sewn tapestry pillows. Stained glass pieces hang above the windows and everywhere you turn there is a piece of beauty and interest, with a provenance that Elaine would gladly share. She spoke with a voice tinged with New Orleans and although I've never been, her place and her grace gave me a taste of being there. Last Wednesday, over a week ago now, B called to say E was fading fast. Her heart was failing and her energy was diminished. B knows and honors that my Wednesdays are paint dance days, but he suggested it might be time to go visit. My son Aa and I raced out there and saw how frail and weak she was, but she recognized us and was able to say a few words. I was so proud of Aa with his presence and ability to look into her eyes and tell her he loved her. That was over a week ago. I visited over the weekend and again on Tuesday. K is staying with her mom and caring for her in such a loving way. Family gathers and drops by and we are all holding the space for E to receive her family and friends and feel their presence as she prepares to cross over, to learn the secret. Her body is working so hard to house her spirit and that union doesn't seem long for this world, it is straining. She is taking morphine. Today her 85 yr old brother flew in from Louisiana with her nephew and E rallied to receive them and have a brief chat. It's amazing how tenacious her spirit is, but not a surprise given her long life and accomplishments.

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.

Newsflash!

Dr. called to say the pathology report says no cancer left behind! Yeah! Clean margins. There is still some microcalcification and duct hyperplasia (meaning there are cells in there that are on their way to becoming cancer, but the radiation will stop that) These clean margins may mean no radiation boost to the tumor site, I find that out on May 10th. So now I have peace of mind, no tumors left behind, no cancer lurking in the margins. When the bandages come off and the swelling goes down, we'll see what aesthetic price I had to pay. This means recurrence on a local level is under control by removal and radiation and on a systemic level will be addressed by the Tamoxifen. Now I feel my prognosis is VERY good. I can take that big sigh of relief I've been holding, I'd jump for joy, but I'm still under doctor's order of no bouncing. so for now.....Yippeeeee!!!!

The 2nd surgery is behind me. It's been 3 days and I am trying to take it easy and not bounce. My devoted sister Debbie was here and as always, was a big help. Next Wednesday I have an appt with the surgeon and will learn what the pathology report says....more cancer found or no cancer found. Waiting. Meanwhile, I had 12 more paintings printed onto postcards. It is very satisfying to see these large paintings reduced to postcard size. I took them into surgery and offered them up, only one was left. My images are out in the world, living a life independent from me. :) Which is what my boys will do in a few years. In 5 years, Ezri will be 13 and Aaron 20! I'll have been on Tamoxifen for that long, praying no tumors are growing under the radar. 5 years doesn't seem that long, but so much can happen.

Looping back Around

Okay, it turns out I'm not going forward with radiation right away, it's being postponed. I'm going to repeat a step and have a 2nd surgery, by a 2nd opinion surgeon out of Walnut Creek Kaiser, on Tuesday. I decided this Friday morning. Best scenario is that she goes in again and doesn't find anymore cancer, then it will have been for naught, except my peace of mind, and hers. I couldn't let go of the close margins around the tumors they took out. The pathology report had said carcinoma "within 1 mm" of the margin. Also, if she takes out more tissue and can get wider clean margins, I might not have to have a radiation boost (7-10 zaps directly to the tumor site), which happens to be within an inch of my heart...with my lungs nearby. The fact is, radiation not only will kill cancer cells left in my breast, it also can give you cancer in nearby organs... collateral damage they like to down play. I'd still have radiation to the whole breast, and I may still need the boost, but if I don't, that alone would make this 2nd surgery worthwhile.

Choices, choices...it is ultimately my decision because it is my body and my life. It is awkward to go contrary to the recommendations of my Oakland doctors. The oncologist wrote in my chart, "the patient continues to perseverate on the close margins and not her great prognosis." Is this me focusing on the negative instead of the positive? or is it me being prudent and trusting my instincts? Dr. L feels strongly this is the right thing to do, but she is a surgeon and is used to solving problems with surgery. Could a positive attitude have kept a recurrence at bay? That is too much to ask of myself, I'd feel more confident with a 2nd viewing of the tissue in my breast. A confirmation that nothing got left behind.

A 2nd surgery means I may be lopsided, so there is the aesthetic sacrifice. But I am willing to trade it for the highest chance of avoiding a recurrence. If one has a recurrence in the same breast, radiation isn't offered a 2nd time, so mastectomy it would be. This is hard because I feel so healthy. I have to remind myself that the cancer would kill me if I don't make decisions and get treatment, and anyone who knows me, knows that I sweat out every tiny minuscule choice I have to make and then rarely let it go once I've made it.

So Debbie is coming in tomorrow afternoon to be here for me and my family, and lovely cousin Hillary will pick her up. Recovery should be faster because this surgery won't be under general anesthesia since no lymph node dissection is happening. I'm told not to dance as soon after this time, which I will heed, given the arm complication and scar tissue I now contend with.

Today was gorgeous weather. Ezri had a baseball game and Aaron joined us and it was a lovely day. Tomorrow I will pass off my work project to my boss to meet a deadline, and Tuesday will be Surrender. Unknown. Trust. Faith. Confidence. Thanks to all my friends and family whose love and prayers give me strength, really. You remind me that I'm not crazy, there is a lot to contend with in my life these days, but being around for another couple of decades will make it all worthwhile. Namaste.

Going forward

No second surgery to be done. The 2nd opinion oncologist in WC wrote me:

"I did have an opportunity to talk with Dr. O'N today (the surgeon), and the answer is that there is no more margin to be had, and she has already resected as much as she can. You should go ahead with your radiation."

I'm somewhat relieved. I really didn't want a 2nd surgery, I haven't quite healed from the first one. Any cancer left in my breast should be zapped and killed with radiation, and then if that doesn't get them, the 5 years of daily oral Tamoxifen will block the estrogen receptors on the tumor cells and not allow them to grow. My chance of a reoccurence remains at 6%, so odds are in my favor! Whew. Now I can go forward. CT scan on Friday to chart the coordinates of the beams to my breast so that they minimize radiation exposure to my heart and lungs. I assume radiation starts next week. I'll go daily for 5-7 weeks, not sure yet. Lucky for me there is valet parking. I've heard it makes you very tired and then it takes a few weeks to get your energy back. I'm open to donations of healthy soups and such to keep me going, and then it will be summertime, when the living is easy!

Comfort Zones

Hello loved ones who follow my cancer roller coaster journey:
Today I met the 2nd opinion oncologist, Dr. K, at Walnut Creek Kaiser. She confirmed and explained the low OncotypeDX score and how chemotherapy will NOT decrease chances of a reoccurence, so NO chemo for me...Yeah!! My ship has come in! My luck has turned around! Let's go to the races!
However, her concern, as was mine, are the close margins around the lumpectomy. The pathology report says "infiltrating carcinoma found within 1 mm of the medial margin and DCIS is present within 1 mm of the lateral margin." I was always trouble by the word "within." My Dr. friend had told me that margin depth is a big source of discussion and controversy in the breast cancer field and my oncologist Dr. T said she is comfortable with the "within 1". Dr. K prefers a 2 mm margin and is going to talk to my surgeon, Dr. O'N to find out if there is any more margin to be had. The medial margin is the center line, and where the tumors was taken out along my chest wall and skin, there is no more tissue to get. But maybe on the lateral side there is. We'll see what Dr. O'N says, hopefully by early next week.

Meanwhile, I see Dr. K, the Oakland oncologist tomorrow to learn about Tamoxifen. I am officially still pre-menopausal because my estrogen level is 354 and if post menopausal it would be below 30. My one ovary (unless the other is hiding) is still pumping out loads of estrogen at almost 51. (no wonder I got pregnant at 42) Monday I meet the radiation oncologist to plan that exciting holiday.

However, if a 2nd surgery is recommended, all goes on hold to scoop more out, and as much as I don't want repeat that ride, maybe my future is worth it.