Category: Cancer

Health note

Well, I’m still not sure when they’re sending me home of if they are. My family practice doc was in  today, and says 6 to 12 months of life left. I saw the attourney today to draw up a will, power of attourney and health directives My first priority is getting the trilogy to iUniverse, so the blog is going to be a very occasional thing. I’m going to start jumping ahead in Jarn’s Journal, so you an see where the Jarnian confederation got it’s name, and why all of us have a little bit of Jarn in us. I will try occasionally to get on WWW, too, but that’s about all. Does anyone know about literary executor?

As some of you know, I live alone. They won’t let me go home to that. For one thing, I still can’t use the walker without help, for another I will need oxygen for the immediate future, if not for the rest of my life.

Sorry, but at this point it’s hospice and palliative care. I just hope I can get home to my regular computer. I hate the touchpad on the laptop.

anchorage airport 10:2:14Very brief weather today: it’s snowing and the leaves are down in Fairbanks and the sunset was beautiful with mostly sunshine and termination dust on the Anchorage mountains. Yes, I’m back in Fairbanks, but also back in the hospital so don’t expect much in the way of blogging this week. (Last month’s were pre-scheduled and this month only the quotes are so far.) And working on my laptop in a hospital bed (I’m still in the extensive care ward) is not easy.

I think they let me out of the Anchorage hospital too early, though I admit I was pushing for it. I flew back Thursday after a PET test with low blood sugar, arrived home very tired and just got tireder. Also started having trouble keeping food down. Saturday afternoon I asked Sheila  to take me to the emergency room of the hospital (because of the nausea) where they diagnosed me with probable pneumonia. About the time they were going to take me down for X-rays, I died on the EM room table. If you have to die, that’s where to do it! I don’t know whether they hit me first with the shock pads or the heart massage, but I woke up rather puzzled by the hiatus and with sore ribs–some probably cracked.

Did you know nausea is a frequent symptom of heart irregularity (which is what I had) in women? I do now, and it has been my most frequent sign (immediately preceding the warning buzzer going off) about 4 more times. So far they’ve been able to shock me out if it almost at once. without my even losing awareness–more grist for the writer’s mill .

They think they’ve figured out the heart irregularity–my potassium and magnesium, both important for nerve function, were way low. Also, the first they didn’t have the heart records, so gave me the wrong medications, so now I’m hooked to too many wires and tubes to count, and spending another night in intensive care. Sounds like I will get over this, though I can look forward to more chemo.

Oh, yesterday’s post was written, but I forgot to push the schedule button. It’s up now.

View out the hospital widow when I'm walking for exercise.

View out the hospital widow when I’m walking for exercise.

The sun will rise today in Fairbanks at 7:34 in the morning, and set 12 hours 16 minutes later at 7:51 pm. Yes, it’s the equinox today – at 6:29 pm, to be exact. But equinox does not mean 12 hour days


In the first place, sunset and sunrise are defined by when the top edge of the sun touches the horizon. Twelve hour days would be true if the center of the sun was the defining point.

Second, where you see the sun is not where it is actually located, especially when it is near the horizon. Even seen a road mirage where it looks as if a hot road is covered with water? What you are really seeing is the light of the sky, bent by the strong temperature gradient near the road. The opposite kind of bending occurs when the air near the ground is denser that that higher up, which is the normal case in the atmosphere. In this case, the sun looks higher in the sky than is really the case. The result is that days at the equinox are really a little bit longer than the nights.

It didn’t rain much in Fairbanks between the first few days in September and the last weekend, though we did get a good dollop last Saturday. Anchorage (I’m still in the hospital there) has been making up for it. Well over 4″ so far, and raining most of the time I’ve been in the hospital here.

Sometimes the Stars are Not Aligned

I flew down to Anchorage Wednesday morning, after fasting since noon the day before except for a bit of chicken for supper Tuesday and two hard-boiled eggs for breakfast Wednesday. (Very low-carb diest, which I’m not used to bolusing for.) I had an appointment for a PET scan Wednesday noon, confirmed the day before. While I was on the plane, with my phone in airplane mode, the hospital called to say that due to a Cyclotron breakdown in Seattle(?) they had to cancel. Then the doctor’s office decided that since the earliest I could be scanned was Friday (if the Cyclotron cooperates), they would move the Doctor’s appointment from Thursday to next Tuesday. Which probably means another round trip to Anchorage–if plane space is available.

Of course the Friday scan means I won’t be able to make that day of the writer’s conference. And I seem to have two appointments at two different places for the scan.

About all I am sure of at this point is that I well be here for the Alaska Writers’ Guild conference Saturday and Sunday. I might know a little more about my health status. If I sound up in the air, I am. Wish me luck.

The sun rose this morning at 3:49, and will set 20 hours 15 minutes later, a minute after midnight tomorrow morning. It’s still rainy: 4.58” (well over twice the July normal) as of July 12, with more yesterday and even more predicted for next week. If this keeps up we could set a record for July as well as June.

The raised beds with herbs and mint are riotously green, and the mints especially are crowding each other out. The delphiniums were a little beaten down by all the rain, but they are now tied up. The tallest are close to 12’ high, and the flowers are just starting to open. I don’t actually grow peonies but they are one of the few commercial crops up here and are starting to show up at the Farmers’ Market. Seems that the blooming period here, in July, is at a time when there are very few parts of the world peonies are in bloom. Result? Several people are growing them for the international cut flower market.

My hair finally grew back from chemo to the point that I got a haircut. I thought all the curl would be cut off, but a little wave still remains. I’ve included some before and after shots, which you can compare with the ones last fall.

Cancer Survivor

Cancer 6:10:14I’m getting tired of being a cancer survivor.

Oh, not the survivor part; that’s definitely preferable to the alternative. And in many ways I’ve been very lucky. I have excellent health insurance, awesome doctors who have managed to diagnose me early every time (and that’s not easy with ovarian cancer) and surgeons who were deft enough that all three times I’ve had clean margins on the pathology.

But three times?

This is not a matter of recurrence or metastases. I had breast cancer in 2008, spent most of the summer on chemotherapy and the winter on radiation therapy. No recurrence.

Then last summer I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Stage 1c, and I know I was very lucky that my doctor caught it. I had assumed that my difficulty in urination was due to diabetic neuropathy, but my doctor suggested one quick ultrasound test in her office. Two days later I had an appointment at the Women’s Cancer Center in Anchorage. (Keep in mind that problems with urination can be an early symptom of ovarian cancer, which is often symptomless until it is too late.) This tine the chemotherapy (precautionary) was much more severe, and I wound up spending about 18 hours a day sleeping for the third through fifth days after each infusion. Since both cancers were “women’s cancers” I was checked for the BRCA gene, but I have neither of the known dangerous variants.

Except a routine diagnostic mammogram (because of the previous breast cancer) showed up a very small suspicious spot in the other breast, which a biopsy showed was cancerous. I was just getting my hair back from the last time around! Surgery again (partial mastectomy because I wanted minimal impact on my type 1 diabetes) and I just “graduated” from radiation therapy on that one. I’ll be on Herceptin® infusion for most of another year, though my doctor didn’t want to give me any stronger chemotherapy right after the one for the ovarian cancer. I had a port installed (outpatient surgery and they didn’t even knock me out all the way) since I would be getting weekly infusions for a year, and my veins are getting hard to find.

A couple of things I want to say from the viewpoint of someone who’s dealt with cancer:

(1) Keep exercising as much as possible. With my balance so poor, it’s mostly stationary bicycling for me, but I kept up at least an hour or two a day throughout radiation therapy. I really think it helps.

(2) They tell you radiation therapy can produce sunburn-like effects on the skin. Effects, yes, but they’re more like zombie skin. Rotting rather than peeling, and downright painful (and itchy) near the end. So glad that mine’s over and I can put ointment on the skin!

(3) The Herceptin® is a breeze compared with either of the other chemotherapies.

A to Z Reflections

This was my second A to Z challenge, and my first time as a minion (one of Stormy’s Helpers.) It’s also been an April with a lot more to do than I expected, with the result that I didn’t get as much out of it as I hoped, because I wasn’t able to put as much in as I’d planned.

When I signed up I knew I’d be taking adult classes (see O post) in April, and I planned for that. I also planned to pre-schedule my posts, I decided on my theme and a number of letters before I signed up, and I had several of the posts written and scheduled before mid-March.

I had breast cancer several years ago, and as part of the follow-up to that I get regular mammograms. Last summer, shortly before the first writing conference I’d scheduled, I was diagnosed (early, thank goodness) with ovarian cancer. I wrote a number of the 2013 Blogathon posts from my hospital bed, but the surgery went well, with good pathology results. I missed the conference (was in the hospital) and chemo pretty well destroyed my usual summer gardening. But by March my hair was growing back and I was feeling chipper again.

Then shortly after volunteering as a minion I had my regular mammogram: another breast cancer, this one on the other side. I had surgery before the Challenge started, again with excellent pathology (1a) and clean edges. I’m currently (since mid-April) getting radiation five days a week, and I’ll be on weekly Herceptin for the next year.

I am not particularly worried about any of the three cancers. They’re apparently unconnected, and I am not positive for either of the known BRCA mutations. But I am very annoyed at effectively losing a good part of another summer, and sorry also that I could not visit as many blogs as I had hoped. I did find some new blogs to follow, and picked up a few new followers myself.

I apologize for missing so many of you. I’ll continue checking out blogs following mine on the list during the A to Z Road Trip.

A to Z Road Trip

Happy News: CT Scan

ClearI had a CT scan with contrast yesterday, and I’m happy to report that there is no sign of the ovarian cancer recurring. I’ll probably be followed for another 5 years, at least (possibly for the rest of my life) but at the moment my only problem is the amount of liquids I’m supposed to be drinking to flush the contrast dye out of my system. Not to mention the inevitable side effects of drinking some 5 liters yesterday, with a 3 liter goal for today.

Aside from a cold head (I’m still nearly bald) and continued loss of balance, I’m feeling fine. Should get back to the final editing of the trilogy soon.

Chemo, Hair Loss, and Wig.

I went to the beautician who cuts my hair Tuesday, for advice on how to clean and style my wig. She trimmed what was left of my hair. and showed me how to shampoo and style my wig. The results?

Not much hair left, but it seems to have stopped coming out.

Not much hair left, but it seems to have stopped coming out.

I think the wig helps a little right now.

I think the wig helps a little right now.

A Chemotherapy Fashion Show

Portrait, Sue Ann Bowling

Author Sue Ann Bowling in July 2009

I’ve always been too lazy to do anything to my hair that requires upkeep, so I’ve just gone from brown to gray without ever trying blond, red, black or frosting. But at this point in my chemotherapy I have a few strands of (mostly white) hair combed over a pink scalp, and I thought, “Why not try out a different appearance?” The local cancer center has all kinds of wigs and turbans available, so I spent a morning trying them on. Most were totally unstyled, and I tried them on only for length and color. Most – how can I put it? – just weren’t me. I used  Photo Booth on my laptop to record some of the results.

In self defense, the photo at the left gives a little better idea of how I look when I’m not undergoing chemotherapy and when the photo is taken by a professional rather than by my computer! (Not to mention when my nose and my forehead are not skinned, and whatever the laptop photos are doing to my skin tone.)

I should mention that all of these photos have been lightened and warmed in color to compensate for the lighting.

2 mod3 mod4 mod5 mod6 mod7 mod8 mod9 mod

10 mod

Almost. This one came out in second pace.


But when it came right down to it, I liked the highlighted one better. It still needs styling.