Another Long Waiting Weekend, Me and Angel

This is being written not to elicit pity or prayers or condolences. Writing is my catharsis, amongst other creative tasks. I could scream, throw things, weep, be still or get numb, all of which I have done the past few days, but nothing is more satisfying than actually concentrating on making something that comes from ME. That's just the way I roll.  This is simply the reason for all the cryptic Facebook status updates I've been posting, and I think being honest is the best way to answer for them. 

Back in 2005 I had my first mammogram. I was called back by the imaging center so they could get more films on a certain part of my left breast. After those were completed, I was brought into the radiologist's office where he showed me a magnified cluster of irregularly shaped cells. It looked really hinky to him and the next step was a biopsy. Not the most wonderfullest of procedures, but the results were called DCIS, basically stage 0 breast cancer. The cancer cells were stuck in a milk duct, probably had been there for several years. A simple lumpectomy would probably get rid of it.

I met with a surgeon who explained that they had to take a much larger piece of the breast around the cancerous cluster in order to get the largest margin to make sure that they got it all. So I went through with it, outpatient surgery, a little scar, no harm done. The surgeon said afterwards that they were successful in removing all the weird cells, and that I actually had 3 types of cancers in there, only one of which was a very aggressive type. I was then referred to an oncologist who recommended radiation therapy. I figured that if the surgeon said they got it all out, why bother with radiation? And I was pretty disgusted at being a product of the "cancer industry" at the time anyway. So I refused. Being a really cool oncologist, he said he understood, but he did suggest I take a test to see if I had the BRACA gene mutation. This is a hereditary gene thing, very common to Jewish women of Ashkenazi descent which increases the risk of breast and ovarian cancers to 85% in a lifetime. The test results came back positive. I have the BRACAI gene mutation. So this affected my entire game plan.

I toyed with the idea of being totally pro-active. Maybe I should just have a full mastectomy and get reconstructive surgery? Back in '05-'06 there weren't a lot of choices for decent cosmetic surgeons in my area. I ended up having consultations with doctors in San Francisco, the first who would do the mastectomy and the next who would do the reconstruction in the same surgery. My biggest fear is waking up and finding myself udderly mutilated. (pun intended). But the idea of having to travel all the way to San Francisco and then find a place to recuperate for two to three days was daunting. I decided that I was just going to let things be, get yearly mammos, and if I ever got cancer again, I would then get a new rack. And things did go swimmingly up to a couple of weeks ago.

A little digression....I am an insulin dependent diabetic. Have been since 1994. I also share my home with cats. I have done that for most of my life. At one point, we had a cat named Coco who was probably the most devoted to our family pet we ever had. One day she started looking ill. Being an observant pet person, I can tell when a cat isn't doing well. I took her to the vet and they did blood work. The next day they called and told me she had diabetes and that I needed to come in so they could show me how to give her insulin shots. They must have thought I was bonks because I just laughed on the phone. "I'm also on insulin" I told the poor vet tech. Needless to say, giving her her injections was no big whoop, and after a time, Coco didn't need the shots anymore. Cats can cure themselves of diabetes. I hope someone is studying this. They say that pets can take on the illnesses of their humans. I find it more and more true when I hear stories of people who have to give their dogs thyroid meds or prozac or whatever. Our bonds with our animals can be more than emotional.

When my mother died, I inherited her pure bred persian cat Angel. He is a likeable fellow, good tempered, curious and loves people. My mom bought him as a kitten from a breeder, and he could have had any number of weird genetic personality problems, but we lucked out.  Other than the necessity of professional grooming services, he's been pretty low maintenance. Starting about a month and a half ago, this otherwise very heavy, solid fifteen pound cat started to lose weight. I really began to notice it after he got shaved for summer. There's no way you should be able to feel bones when you pet a six year old cat.

Back to me. Two weeks ago I was adjusting my tank top and felt a lump. It was just above the place I'd had the breast cancer. And I'm not talking a pebble size lump. I'm talking the size of a marble that kids trade away a week's worth of lunches for. WTF? I'd just had a mammo in June and it was clean!  I was just about to go to Las Vegas for Photoshop World. On Wednesday I went to the Breast Imaging Center. They did a ton of mammos of the lump site. After the radiologist looked over the films, it was decided that an ultrasound was in order. An ultrasound can detect if the lump is a mass or liquid filled. If it was indeed liquid filled, then it would in most cases be just a cyst, and they could drain it and all would be fine. BUT NO. It wasn't. I have to say that the staff is wonderful at our breast imaging center, they really care and understand. I expect they have seen the whole spectrum of emotions, but they still have the ability to deal with the patient as an individual. And they fast-tracked me for a biopsy. Based on my ultrasound, not only is the lump suspect, I also have something in a lymph node.  They did the biopsy and put a teensy metal marker at the sites for future surgical use. I was told that I would probably get the results by Friday. That was yesterday. I received no phone call regarding any results. I suspect that even if any results come in today, I won't get any notification until Monday.

Angel: I brought him to our local vet on Thursday. The Dr. was very concerned and did blood work. He called me yesterday and said that Angel's in liver failure. The good part is that it wasn't caused by any virus, but he really wanted to have an ultrasound done to find out what was happening. So we took Angel  to the state of the art animal hospital in Loomis, about 35 miles down the hill. Their staff is also amazingly caring, and I bet they see some heinous stuff, being a 24/7 emergency clinic. They did an ultrasound and ultimately a sorta biopsy on Angel's liver. The state of the art Dr told us that Angel might have lymphoma, (read CANCER) but that the test results could take a couple of days, and maybe by Monday we'd have definitive results. I broke down in the state of the art Vet hospital and a vet tech took me into an exam room. I blubbered my troubles to her and she just hugged me for a long time.  She also told me that kitty lymphoma is not necessarily a death sentence. It can be treated. And I know that breast cancer can be as well. But I still have so many questions. Will both me and Angel lose our hair? (He will most certainly look worse than me) Will we both be sick and vomiting?Or does his treatment involve just a pill? And mine?

It sucks that I have to make such decisions, but I really think it's time for that mastectomy, because the major emotion I have is anger. I'm really sick of this shit. (Fortunately we have a new set up here where I can get the mastectomy and reconstruction same surgery in our local hospital, so no having to travel to San Francisco.) I have so many things I love to do on my schedule. And I'm not letting this get in the way. For those of you who believe in the power of prayer, and if you're so inclined to include me and Angel in them, I have only one wish: For us to be HAPPY. No matter what. Thanks.