I Thought the 3rd Time Was Supposed To Be a Charm...

As I sit here on my bed, 1/3 in shock, 1/3 depressed and 1/3 so furious I want to run down the street with a baseball bat smashing anything breakable...I guess I just have to say flat out:

I FUCKING HAVE CANCER...AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, of course my mother keeps saying that we don't know "for sure" what's happening - but I know it is. There is a new nodule in my one lung and an existing one that grew in my other. I'm not sure which one is which. They're both small. But I guess life just had to throw it in BOTH instead of just one for shit's and giggles. Because why would I really only need to worry about one, right? Both would just be more fun!

All I know right now as I stare glassy eyed at this computer screen through my xanax fog of half awareness is that there are apparently a team of both old and new doctor's deciding what will be done to me now. Too bad it's not closer to Halloween because I feel like an appropriate costume choice would be "Lab Rat". Do they sell that in stores or would I have to create that selection myself, I wonder?

Most likely, my biggest nightmare through this whole Cancer bullshit is that I will have to wind up getting some form of chemo. I find it hard to believe they would decide on operating AGAIN when I just basically had a year's worth of surgeries and they would have to cut open both of my lungs instead of just one. But who knows.

Because it's Friday there are a few lovely things I need to add:

• Happy weekend to me!
• I will need to go through the whole weekend not knowing what my outcome will be (I feel as though this is always the case with me for some God forsaken reason).

This "team" of however many doctors who are deciding my fate will probably have some sort of conclusion for me by Tuesday. Yes, Tuesday. That's four days from now, in case you couldn't figure it out. Sooo...if you happen to call me, text me, see me, etc...and you ask me something like, "What are you doing tonight?" I might respond with something along the lines of, "I ate a pineapple for breakfast," being that my diet over the next four days will consist of alcoholic beverages, handfuls of xanax and most likely nothing else.

All I really have to say about all this is that I was seriously hoping for some sort of break...gap...lull...in this war against the Evil Big C. I'm two months shy of when this all started up for me again and although most of the people who know me would describe me as being strong, there comes a time when things just reeeeaally start to wear you down a bit. You know what I mean?

My last blog was all about the joys of having both sides of my body (still) aching from the last surgeries I had. Let's say they do decide to operate again...hmm. I'm just really wondering if they design specially made (semi-attractive) bra's for women with tits as big as mine that apparently can't seem to get rid of the fucking disease that's slowly eating away at my lungs little by little. Maybe this should be a new venture for me? "The Cancer Bra: For Well-Endowed Women Who Find Themselves Tugging Down the Band of Their Bra Due to Recent Surgery."

I think the thing I might be dreading the most about this whole ordeal (aside from losing these beautiful locks of hair on my head) is filing for Disability AGAIN!!! I don't know if I can handle it. Would someone like to be my personal Disability filer/follow-througher? Even if I don't need chemo I might wind up losing my hair from ripping it out if I have to deal with those morons for a THIRD time. Just sayin'.

Anyway, I was really really really fucking hoping to entitle this entry, "Cancer Free Again!" But clearly my life does not work in this way. So I'll part with words I've probably said a million times before..."Here we go again."

Comfortably Numb.

Or should I say rather UNcomfortably numb. I'm not sure if it's because I've been consistently containing my knockers or if I'm wearing clothes that are too binding or what...but let me tell you, I'm sore all around my back/ribs. On BOTH sides, no less.

I've been feeling sore like this for a solid month, I'd say. I literally cannot wait to get home and run into my room to take off this evil device of torture known to the common folk as "the bra". I'm just slightly baffled at why all of a sudden I'm feeling more discomfort now then ever before.

I guess I can say that the numbness from my first lung surgery never really subsided and it is, in fact, still sore around my back. My ribs, however, have slowly but surely almost completely healed (finally). My right side - mainly the incision under my pit - has seemed to get worse as time goes by. Is this the healing process? If so, it sucks.

The line of the incision is directly under where my bra sits on all of my bra's except one. I have one t-shirt bra from Victoria's Secret that is the only semi comfortable one to wear nowadays. The sad truth about this particular bra, however, is that it is about one full cup size too small and is hot pink with black polka dots. Wearing this lovely undergarment is nearly impossible with probably 94% of my wardrobe.

So what does this mean for me? Will I have to resort to giant old lady bra's with no sex appeal whatsoever? How long will this misery last? I guess if I could handle getting my vag cut open twice and not being able to sit for months I could handle a little discomfort around my bra line.

Sorry - but if you haven't realized I'm blunt by now, you're clearly not paying much attention.

I have noticed something extremely weird though. If my left arm is slightly raised when I cough I can actually feel the exact area that was sliced through to get to my lung...and I can see it. How fucking weird is that shit! It's actually quite freak show-esque. See for yourself:

Visually, I guess I'm doing better. The redness is starting to fade and little by little my left lung incision is starting to look better. And obviously, I look fabulous in general. Ha.

I've been able to start working out again which I'm super happy about. I've been singing up a storm whenever I can which puts a huge smile on my face and in my heart. My social life has definitely been jump started again so I'm definitely having a good time. Overall I guess things are going well in the living-without-Cancer department. Hopefully the living without part stays that way.

My first CT's following my surgery are scheduled for April 18th. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I won't have to worry about healing in yet another area of my body. Until then...

"I've become...comfortably numb..."

7 Week Status.

I've made it 7 weeks since my surgery and on a whole, feel great. I started work last Monday, February 13th 2012, and let me tell you - it wasn't super fun going back. For the most part, my body feels decent for what it's endured. Because I've been (obviously) wearing a bra every day at work, the scar under my arm has been sensitive and a little sore, but manageable. I've been able to sing normally again which I'm super happy about. My incisions (cosmetically) are healing well as you can see:

Can you see the incision in my tattoo? I can't!

My second day back at work was also the day I was about to go nuts from still not receiving my first Disability payment. I received a letter in the mail stating that my claim was (FINALLY) processed as of February 1st so I was wondering why I still hadn't received anything on Valentine's Day (I was willing to forgive all my gentlemen callers for the lack of flowers and chocolate covered goodies in exchange for money in my bank account from the State of New Jersey...). A friend of mine asked if I had checked my last Disability debit card to see if they put the money on the old one. I kind of chuckled at the idea because why would I have kept a Bank of America Disability debit card with no balance on it from the last time I was on Disability? It just made no sense for them to put the money on there. By some grace of God Himself I actually kept the card and take a guess at what was on it...? Half of my money!

Where was the other half, you say? Who the hell knows! Weeks ago I received probably the fifth form from Disability requesting MORE information from my doctor that I faxed in. This was to approve the rest of my time off, I guess. I have yet to see that money. Maybe it will come after I get my first real check back from my job. Which, by the way, apparently didn't process my return date so I sat staring at a computer with no access for three days. Good times.

When filing for Disability, I also need to file for The Hartford through my job. Honestly I'm not quite sure what these people do. They don't pay me, so why do they call every third day? It makes no sense. I received a call last week stating that they approved me to be out of work up until February 6th but after that I was not approved due to not a good enough reason for staying out the extra week. Needless to say Dr. Jekyll morphed into Ms. Hyde and with as much sarcasm and snide as Erin-ly possible I fired, "I work in a professional environment interviewing complete strangers all day, every day. You're actually going to tell me the fact that I was unable to wear a bra is not good enough reason for me not returning to work?"

In reality what I wanted to tell the evil bitch on the other end of the phone was that no amount of plastic surgery could match what God gave me naturally and that they couldn't pay me to walk into my office with the characters that frequent it on a daily basis, sans brazier.

I was informed I would need to write an appeal letter once I received my rejection letter for the last week in the mail. Great! Yet another appeal I need to file. The second appeal letter that I have already written is being mailed to Medicaid due to being approved again this year, but declined against going to Sloan. You know, Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center - the WHOLE reason I filed for Medicaid to begin with. Should I have gone to Law School? Perhaps.

So with all these exciting appeal letters I get to write and pretend I'm some sort of attorney, I barely have time to write any blogs. Hence the reason it took almost a month to complete this one. But have no fear, faithful readers and friends: Erin is back with a vengeance and I'll be damned sure if you don't get your bi-weekly dose of me from here on out.

As a side note: Cancer is a fucking ugly ass whore. I was recently made aware the Big C reared it's nastiness back into the body of someone else I know who is battling. She went through so much the last time around and now another long road of chemo is ahead of her yet again. It breaks my heart that the undeserving have to deal with something so terrible. Any positive thoughts, vibes, prayers, would be so appreciated.

Till we meet again...



An "Ode" to Disability...or rather, a LOATHE to Disability.

Today is the 24th day after my surgery. Today is also the day I decided to call Disability to check the status of my claim. Or rather, to find out when I would be receiving my first check.

I would like to note that during my last surgery, my first payment did not get to me until after my 8th week of being out of work. EIGHT weeks since my surgery was the FIRST time I was paid. Why, you ask? They stated that they did not receive the Employer Section of my paperwork. The same Employer Section that was faxed along with ALL the other items of paperwork. But I digress.

After finally being connected to the idiot that picked up my call after 10 minutes of waiting (the other two times I tried calling over the last week my call was automatically disconnected after hearing a recording that said, "All call center representatives are busy at this time. Please try again later." Click.) who seemed to have an attitude as soon as I gave my Social Security Number, I was told AGAIN that they were waiting on my Employer Section. The SAME section that was faxed ONCE AGAIN along with aaaaallllllllllll the other forms the day after my surgery.

I have no words.

Is this a joke?

I told this asshole that in all honesty, I could not even believe what I was hearing being that 7 months ago I was on Disability for the first time in my life, and was told the exact same thing...when it was a blatant LIE. This was now the second time I was ever on Disability and now the second time I was told my Employer Section was missing.

Now, I just need to ask. Is this only my life? I find it nearly impossible to believe that these kinds of things could only happen to me over and over again. Could it just be coincidence that one particular page in my packet of paperwork that was all faxed at the same time went mysteriously missing for the second time? I just can't seem to wrap  my head around this possibility.

Is it incompetence? Is it a conspiracy on Disability's part in order to delay paying? What would happen if I never called? Never receive the money OWED to me? I just don't understand.

Sometimes I just feel like it's not enough to be blessed with the curse of having Cancer. It's like everything that goes along with "living" while you're going through having the disease makes it almost impossible for you to survive it with a little sanity.

If you need to find me, I'll be talking to an inanimate object in my padded cell.

Follow-Up Visit

Last Wednesday, January 18th, was my follow-up visit since my surgery. It is with great pleasure that I can actually report that everything was (almost) as smooth as a baby's bottom. My appointment with my doctor was at 10:30am so they told me to arrive by 10:15am for my xrays. I was in and out of my xrays by a little after 10:20am and in the room waiting for my doctor around 10:45am. Miracle of Jesus? I think so.

When my doctor came in the room I met him with a grin from ear to ear telling him what a fantastic job he did with the placement of the incision through my tattoo. He smiled and said, "Yes, you reminded me for the fifth time to be careful with it as you were crying before we put you under..." I mean, I told the stupid lady I wasn't drugged up enough while being wheeled into surgery! What the heck did they expect.

He handed me a report of the operation which I don't remember getting from my follow-up the last time. He informed me that my margins were clean and that my xrays looked great - I am healing well and properly. As I read through the pages I saw the Pathology report. It stated that both masses were, in fact, Leiomyosarcoma. So, the "questionable" one they weren't sure about turned out to be Cancer as well. I'm glad he removed both.

When I asked how much of my lung he removed he said, "Minimal - about 2%." I was super happy. He originally told me it would be more like 5-10% before the surgery. Since my mother couldn't be at the appointment she armed me with a list of additional questions to ask. One being how much metal I had in my body in case of MRI's in my future. What I was unaware of this whole time (and perhaps it was foolish of me not to realize but whatev) was that I had/have many staples in both my lungs from the surgeries. He said during many or most surgical procedures people wind up with these. It still seems odd to me to have staples in there. He basically said they were like a normal staple you would see on a sheet of paper. I just find it weird to think about - that a staple is holding parts of my lung closed. Wouldn't the tissue rip? Clearly, I'm no doctor.

Because it seems stupid to me to travel into NY for my CT Scans following this being that the only reason I would do so is to meet with a doctor afterwards (and since my current doctor is my lung doctor, technically he wouldn't really be "examining" me by looking at my healed incisions), I asked if he would care if I went to the NJ Sloan from now on for my tests. God willing they will be clean moving forward and I won't have to worry about getting bad news delivered to me again. However, the only time I ever went to the Basking Ridge location was the CT that showed the tumor in my left lung...soooo, I don't have the fondest memories of that place. I can only hope this last year was the worst and it'll be better from here on out. One can dream, no?

As I was making my CT appointment for April, I made sure they were for my abdomen, pelvis and chest - the same CT's I've literally been receiving for over three years now. The girl (most definitely younger then me) behind the desk tells me that they were only ordered for my chest. Um, why?

I had a little tiff with some other older chick behind the desk when she stated with a slight attitude that it was all my doctor ordered after I calmly said that I had never had this issue before. "It's not an issue, I just need to clarify." I turned to my dad while she was still standing there and asked if I said anything with an attitude because I thought I was just simply asking a legitimate question. Why must there always seem be someone unpleasant that I wind up speaking or dealing with? I just don't get it. There is no way in hell I would accept only getting CT's done of my chest when the ONLY reason they found the tumor in my lung after almost three years of being Cancer free was due to a test that technically I didn't need. My Cancer was vaginal - technically I should've only been getting pelvic CT's done. My (extremely smart) doctor that performed my second surgery of the margins around where my initial tumor was removed in my vag ordered the additional CT's knowing that the lungs were an area it could possibly show up in again. There is no way in hell I would go without getting all three areas scanned. The additional scan saved my life - in my eyes, anyway.

After some discussion the three were ordered and my appointment was made for April 18th in NJ. Now comes the waiting period. Last time around I was hoping to start my "Cancer Free" weekly/monthly/yearly counting but clearly that didn't work out too well for me. Hopefully I'll be able to do it this time.

When New Year's 2011 came I said to my friends that this was going to be a good year - it had to be. At that time I thought 2010 wasn't the greatest of years and 2011 could only get better. Ha. I obviously don't have very good intuition when it comes to things like that. This New Year's I was hesitant to even think silently in my head that it had to be a better year. Look where it got me last year! Sometimes it's difficult to stay positive when it seems like you keep getting kind of beat down. I'm trying to look at this last surgery go-around with a smile...and I am, I really am. But what's next? I'm a little afraid to find out. But I guess it is what it is and I'll take it as it comes to me. What else can I do?

As my dad and I were leaving, I looked over and said how crazy it was that we were actually seen on time and leaving the hospital with most of the day left instead of spending hours upon hours in the waiting room. We were going down on an elevator with like, six other people. It stopped on two floors and then hit floor #2. No one got on, no one got off. The doors closed. A few seconds went by and they opened again...on floor 2. No one got on. The doors closed again. A few more seconds went by. The doors opened again...on floor fucking 2! Once again the doors closed, seconds went by, doors opened and we were still on the same floor. My foot was now in my mouth since I had obviously spoken too soon. Only me, people. Only me.

My dad and I along with a few others got off to wait for another elevator. Someone passed us and went in our elevator. Expecting to see them a few seconds later I told them it wasn't working...but wouldn't you know the doors didn't open showing the same people. They didn't open at all - because, of course, it was working now. Seeing an Exit Sign I decided to use the stairs being that we only had one flight to descend. I was greeted by someone that worked in the hospital telling me that no one was allowed to use the stairs unless they were staff. I wish I could've had an out of body experience so that I could've seen the look on my own face. Um, only staff was allowed to use the stairs? What kind of total bullshit is that? So, what if there's an emergency? I've never heard something so ridiculous in my entire life, I said with definitely not the most pleasant tone.

By this time my dad's temper was in full force and he was ranting and raving about how there's no way in hell it was possible that only people who worked in the hospital were allowed to use the stairs. We waited for what seemed like an eternity until finally, the same elevator we were originally in opened. You're kidding me, right? Needless to say it was now miraculously working and we were finally free. Well, hallelujah.

As for the healing process, I'm doing well. I still get pain from time to time but now it's just more so mending and tenderness rather then real pain. Except a few days ago I had another episode where I guess I slept wrong and woke up in an insane amount of agony as to where I could barely breathe. When I tried to take a deep breath a sharp, intense, shooting pain shot through my lung. This caused me to breathe as shallow as possible, causing my anxiety level to rise and so I immediately downed some percocets and xanax. My lovely morning breakfast cocktail of pills. Good morning!

Other then that, I attempted strapping on a bra and though it's not complete torture, it's still not a pleasant occurrence so I guess I'll have to wait a little longer to return to complete normalcy. I've also tried singing and that's not going too well. I can't hold out a note to save my life so I sound like crap but that will come back in time. In all honesty, compared to the last recovery this one is a walk in the park. I'm just looking forward to being able to drive myself (they tell you you shouldn't drive for 4 weeks in case of an accident - you could be held accountable...no thank you!) places and start living normally again. I'm getting there.

Pain, Pain, Go Away, Come Again Some Other Day...

Just a word to (and from) the wise: If you have lung surgery, wait a few weeks before sleeping on your stomach for the night. When you wake up you do NOT feel refreshed.

Because I am limited to the different positions I can sleep in without being in pain, my neck and lower back have decided to hate me the last few days. This is understandable. Since I normally always sleep on my stomach it's difficult for me to sleep any other way. It's just not as comfortable. I can't pull the blankets halfway over my head any other way. There's always some weird light either from the hall or my clock or outside or whatever that somehow finds it's way to my line of vision if I'm not sleeping on my stomach. Plus, I just feel more "tucked in" my way. Therefore, I prefer my normal way of sleeping to any other which makes it hard for me to fall asleep to begin with aside from dealing with being in pain as well.

Last night I decided that perhaps I was strong enough to sleep my favorite way. I propped myself up a little from the bed with my body pillow on my right side and was out in minutes. When I woke up around 5:30am to the sound of my dogs running to the kitchen for food, I found myself gasping for breath as if an elephant was sitting on my chest. I stood up and could barely breath. That was fun! I wound up using my lung machine thing and walking up and down the hallway in order to convince myself that my lung had not collapsed in my sleep.

I wound up taking a few more pain pills and fell back asleep practically sitting up, on my back. I am just now starting to feel like I can take deeper breaths again without difficulty. Needless to say, I highly doubt I will be sleeping on my stomach again anytime soon. This was the most pain I've been in since the surgery, in my lung.

Today marks a week since the surgery. It feels like time is already flying by. Most of the discomfort and pain I've been enduring has been coming from the incisions and up in my shoulder since there is a lot of pressure up there. This morning was really the first time I felt real pain in my lung. It is not something I would want to happen again so I guess I will just be stuck sleeping in an uncomfortable position, with my neck and lower back sore each day. I guess this is a fair trade-off for being able to breathe.

The Healing Process.

As I sit down to write this, I am 5 days out from surgery. Last time, I would've been in the hospital this long so I can't help but be thankful that for the bulk of the last 5 days I have been on my couch rather then trapped at Sloan. I am also thankful that most of the time I have been home, I have been mobile and able to do a few other things aside from staring at the TV day in and day out. Last time, I thought I had somehow woken up in Hell and it was made to look like the inside of my house.

Because the weather has been ridiculously nice the last few days, my dad asked if I wanted to get out of the house for a little and join him in going to the food store yesterday. I know, I couldn't contain my enthusiasm for this a-mazing outing either. But alas, I managed to stop jumping up and down in excited hysterics and threw on some clothes that didn't make me look like complete trash.

As I looked in the mirror, prepared to slap on another coating of moisturizer on my chemically peeled face, I noticed that the peeling was almost gone in most places. Good thing because I was starting to wonder if I should call Sloan and tell them I needed some skin graphs aside from my xrays on the 18th. Now let me be clear - this is 5 days of nonstop peeling. And when I say nonstop, I mean it. I have been doing nothing but coating my face with moisturizer and Vaseline since I've been home. That's pretty bad.

The ride in the car wasn't super horrific but little bumps weren't pleasant...plus my dad likes to jam on his breaks CONSTANTLY so the jerking back and forth wasn't the best either. Oh well, at least I got out for a little although I'm not sure if I plan on doing it again anytime soon.

The crinkling in my neck is completely gone - woohoo! Whatever that was, I hope it doesn't come back. How weird.

I was able to take my first full shower earlier today. I had to do most of the washing with my left arm as it's still extremely difficult to lift my right one. Other then being totally out of breath from washing my hair and shaving my legs, it was great. I finally took the bandaging off my tattoo completely - not only because it's healing but because my skin is starting to (EW) rip due to having that freakin' medical tape on it all the time. I want to puke just thinking about it. There is a small wound above the incision from just that - as you can see:

But seriously - how happy am I that the incision is right inside the lines of my mic?! It'll heal as a scar but so what. At least it's not completely across the entire thing or going vertically or something. This makes me very happy.

As for the other incisions, the tape is going to be on them for a while. There are large wounds under there and I don't want to mess with that. The last time I waited till the last possible second to take that off. Yuck.

So far, so good, I guess. Little things still obviously hurt that I probably shouldn't be doing. For example, my dog Lily jumped on my bed to sleep with me yesterday morning and because she was on my right side, I guided her - legit guided, not lifted - to my left and wound up paralyzed for a few seconds from the pain. I guess I should just get used to trying to take it easy for a few weeks even though I feel a lot better then I did at this time the last time around. Until then, pj's and TV-watching it is.