Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Isabella

Before I became a teacher, I worked as a nanny, it was 2007 and Isabella was 5 and just beginning kindergarten and her little sister, Gianna, had just turned 1. It was a job that none of us anticipated it would evolve from happy work environment into happy family. But, that is exactly what ended up happening! I worked for them for 4 years and Bella is now 13 and boy crazy, and Gigi, 8, and dance crazy. They were in my wedding, they have supported me through my diagnosis, and they are cousins to Avery. I love them like they are my own and I always will. Bella is older and had a better understanding of my situations and life happenings, in all aspects. She is wise beyond her years and supportive of me in the sweetest and most sincere ways. Here is her perspective on my diagnosis....



    Hi, I'm Isabella. I've known Ashley since I was about 5 years of age. She was always there for me when it came to brushing my hair to taking me to all of my commitments. She is a wonderful person and I love her so much. She is such a positive person to be around. She is definitely like my second mother. A year ago I found out the worst news of my life. I was at work with my mom when she told me Ashley had a 50% chance of having breast cancer. I was sad, angry, and terrified. I knew she couldn't have cancer, until a couple days later it became real. They officially diagnosed her with stage four breast cancer. I was in shock, knowing that a person you love is sick can be very painful. I cried a lot over thinking about the things that could happen, But today it's a blessing to see her happy and healthy. Kicking cancers butt! I'm so proud of her for fighting through all this even when things were at its worst. All of her progress is amazing and I can't wait to see what the future has in store for her! 


                  Love you, B!!! 

Monday, August 25, 2014

Radiation

I think the first time that I let cancer scare me was immediately following my brain surgery. Up until then, I felt like I was the one in charge and I wasn't going to let it overtake me physically or mentally. But then, it did overtake me physically. When I woke up in the ICU, following my surgery, I realized that I had lost mobility of my right arm. The tumor had been located on the left frontal lobe of my brain, directly on the area that controls sensation and movement for the right side of my body. The surgeon very skillfully removed the tumor but he said that it was stubborn and sticky. The good news is that by removing the tumor, I would not have any repeat episodes. The not so good news was that, as a result of the stickiness, I didn't have use of my right arm and although he felt confident that I would regain use; but, he could not guarantee that it would come back one hundred percent. I had nicknamed it my "caveman arm," because my knuckles could have been dragging on the floor and I wouldn't have known it. On the first day after surgery, I almost shut my arm in the bathroom door and when getting back into bed, I sat on it. It was limp and lifeless and my hand was clenched into a fist that I could not pry open without help from my left hand. I was frustrated and terrified and the only thought continuously running through my mind was that I have to be able to put Avery's hair in a pony tail. That sounds funny, doesn't it? It seems like a somewhat menial afterthought but as a single mom to a little girl, its actually a part of our daily routine and I was not going to surrender my independence so easily. I began working my hand diligently and it was quickly discovered that the strength was there but the dexterity needed a lot of tweaking. So, every chance I got, I would pry my fingers open and fold them shut until they relearned the motion on their own. I was only in the hospital for three days but by the time I was discharged, I could raise my arm, make a fist, and straighten my fingers without any assistance. It still took some time after that to really get back to normal and it was more than once that I swiped things off of the counter top. My brain was relearning to communicate with my hand that you actually have to let go of the glass after you set it down. Who knew?? I'm not a very patient patient, but I feel very fortunate that my mobility completely returned; it only ended up taking about a week and a half, but it felt like an eternity. It's something that I didn't even realize I took for granted but I will tell you that I was more proud of that first ponytail that I put in Avery's hair post-surgery, than I have been of anything else. Ever. Except finally being able to type a text message message with both hands again, might have been a close second...

If I had just had to recover from only brain surgery, I probably would have boasted that it was a walk in the park in comparison to my triple doozy of a surgery that I had last fall. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to revel in the glory of my recuperation because my follow up radiation began shortly after I was discharged. It was decided that I would undergo full brain and neck radiation to get any cancer that was left behind from the surgery. I would go daily, during the week, for ten days, with each session lasting about fifteen minutes. They warned that the side effects wouldn't kick in until after I had completed all ten rounds. I went into my radiation experience very naive. I had always been under the impression that radiation was somewhat of a subtle treatment but boyyyyyy was I ever wrong! Since I was having brain radiation, I had to wear a mask so they could mark the areas that needed to be specifically targeted with each visit. The mask is somewhat reminiscent of what one might done as they prepare to face their opponent in a fencing match. Although my opponent had the upper hand in this match because I was truly unprepared for what was to come. The actual radiation appointments were fairly unassuming. I would pop into a room with a setup similar to an xray table/machine. I would lay down and they would put my mask on, which, if you are the least bit claustrophobic, would kill you. They attach the mask to the table, so you are essentially trapped, and the mask fit so snugly, that it required effort to even blink my eyes. Luckily, I'm the type of person that can mentally remove myself from these types of situations so I would close my eyes and listen to the machine moving above my head, getting itself into position. Everything would get quiet before the cobalt blue lasers would shine through my eyelids and I would develop a metallic taste in my mouth. Then, just as quickly as it began, it was over, and I would blink at the brightness welcoming me back into the room and then, be on my way.


Friends and family modeling my radiation mask. It was given to me as a keepsake, or to run over with my car, whichever...
                 

During the course of my radiation treatments, I experienced a lot of nausea and fatigue; but, it wasn't until after I was finished, that the side effects really began to pummel me (just as my doctor warned me that they would). Each side effect hit with a vengeance and I was knocked on my ass. HARD. I was essentially burned by the radiation and it left my throat raw and sore. It was like strep throat multiplied by ten and I could only eat soft foods; but, even those proved to be too painful to swallow and so I choked down smoothies for about ten days to sustain me. But even when I could start eating textured foods again, it didn't really matter because my taste buds didn't exist anymore. If someone would have conducted a blind taste test on me, it would have only been by an almost-non-existent aftertaste, paired with being a self-proclaimed fat kid at heart, that I may have had a chance at guessing correctly. It zero fun and the easiest seven pounds that I have ever lost. <--Silver lining?

The zip zap and zing of the machine also left me with deep inner ear discomfort, a head/forehead that looked like I was peeling from a sunburn so terrible that I must have been up close and personal with the giant fiery orb itself, more nausea, more fatigue, and a partridge in a pear tree (disguised as scalp sensitivity). Oh, and I lost my hair. Apparently, whenever you get something radiated, you lose the hair on that part of the body. So, brain= head. Not sure, why I couldn't have gotten thigh-cancer instead and thus, not have to shave my legs...but alas, the odds have yet to be in my favor. Disclaimer: Don't travel to Vegas or try to get out of a speeding ticket with this girl.

However, I am happy to say that forty-two days post-radiation, I feel like me again! The symptoms have subsided with each passing day and my newly (and violently) exfoliated skin has never been so soft! Last weekend I had a follow up MRI, a THREE hour long MRI, that will make sure all the lingering ooey gooey cancer cells have been evicted from my brain. I get those results tomorrow and even though the recent setbacks have left me feeling a bit betrayed by my positivity, I still have faith that everything is fine. Avery and I have our "normal," back and it's only going to get better from here. I'm only going to get better from here.


First week after radiation, sporting my new wig and matching smiles with my girl!

Lunching with my lady!


...Stay tuned next time for the introduction of Avery's and my new roommate, Wilma....the wig. It's taken a bit of adjusting as most new relationships do, but we are finally welcoming "mommy's hair," (this wig basically has it's own identity in our home, hence the loving nickname) as a member of the family. I figured it was an easier transition than a puppy, at this point...



I came into the room and found Avery talking to my wig. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but I think they were getting acquainted.