I know, many of you who know me are well aware that my best friend was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer when she was pregnant. (Because she's an overachiever like that. Most of us would have enough trouble with either cancer OR pregnancy AND working full time but nope, not her.) I had never heard of inflammatory breast cancer until the email from her. ("Are you sitting down? Good. I'm pregnant! I'm due in June and it's a boy and he's healthy and we're thrilled. And I have breast cancer. It's called inflammatory breast cancer, and it's one of the most lethal forms, and I'm starting treatment tomorrow." Yah. That's the email you like to see from your BFF when you are strung out from trying to nurse your own newborn and desperately seeking comfort and connection from the internet.)
Since that time, I have learned of three other women with it, which leads me to believe one of three things: 1) the percentage of all breast cancers that inflammatory represents must be growing from the stated 1%-5% (because really, otherwise how do I hear of all these and almost no others?); 2) further proof of the "once you become aware of something you find it everywhere" phenomenon (ever have that happen with a new word or idea--you never heard of it, then find it 6 times in a day?); or 3) it's getting better press in general.
Anyway, here's a post from the latest diagnosee in Bloggityville. Please read it. Please remember it. Please do your BSEs, or remind someone you love. And, thankfully, my BFF is now a few years out and doing well.
From Toddler Planet:
Inflammatory breast cancer
Monday July 23rd 2007, 3:11 pm
Filed under: About Us / Favorites, breast cancer
We hear a lot about breast cancer these days. One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetimes, and there are millions living with it in the U.S. today alone. But did you know that there is more than one type of breast cancer?
I didn’t. I thought that breast cancer was all the same. I figured that if I did my monthly breast self-exams, and found no lump, I’d be fine.
Oops. It turns out that you don’t have to have a lump to have breast cancer. Six weeks ago, I went to my OB/GYN because my breast felt funny. It was red, hot, inflamed, and the skin looked…funny. But there was no lump, so I wasn’t worried. I should have been. After a round of antibiotics didn’t clear up the inflammation, my doctor sent me to a breast specialist and did a skin punch biopsy. That test showed that I have inflammatory breast cancer, a very aggressive cancer that can be deadly.
Inflammatory breast cancer is often misdiagnosed as mastitis because many doctors have never seen it before and consider it rare. “Rare” or not, there are over 100,000 women in the U.S. with this cancer right now; only half will survive five years. Please call your OB/GYN if you experience several of the following symptoms in your breast, or any unusual changes: redness, rapid increase in size of one breast, persistent itching of breast or nipple, thickening of breast tissue, stabbing pain, soreness, swelling under the arm, dimpling or ridging (for example, when you take your bra off, the bra marks stay – for a while), flattening or retracting of the nipple, or a texture that looks or feels like an orange (called peau d’orange). Ask if your GYN is familiar with inflammatory breast cancer, and tell her that you’re concerned and want to come in to rule it out.
There is more than one kind of breast cancer. Inflammatory breast cancer is the most aggressive form of breast cancer out there, and early detection is critical. It’s not usually detected by mammogram. It does not usually present with a lump. It may be overlooked with all of the changes that our breasts undergo during the years when we’re pregnant and/or nursing our little ones. It’s important not to miss this one.
Inflammatory breast cancer is detected by women and their doctors who notice a change in one of their breasts. If you notice a change, call your doctor today. Tell her about it. Tell her that you have a friend with this disease, and it’s trying to kill her. Now you know what I wish I had known before six weeks ago.
You don’t have to have a lump to have breast cancer.
P.S. Feel free to steal this post too. I’d be happy for anyone in the blogosphere to take it and put it on their site, no questions asked. Dress it up, dress it down, let it run around the place barefoot. I don’t care. But I want the word to get out. I don’t want another young mom — or old man — or anyone in between — to have to stare at this thing on their chest and wonder, is it mastitis? Is it a rash? Am I overreacting? This cancer moves FAST, and early detection and treatment is critical for survival.
Thank you.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
Tagged!
Wow, nothing like being tagged to get me back to blogging here. I'm totally honored that Jennifer Niesslein picked my blog--though as suggested, I'm sort of asking for it here. Still, fun to be picked by someone I've only met once.
Here are the rules:
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
Hmmm. I'm not sure I know eight bloggers to tag. And eight random facts about me:
1) I kissed Jimmy Osmond. Yep, always with an eye for the less obvious heartthrob, even from girlhood, that would be me. Donny was obnoxious with those purple socks, but Jimmy? Adorable and overlooked as the kid brother. Luckily, my mother loved me very much and bought tickets to see the Osmonds perform at the Valley Forge Music Center--a theater in the round--remember those?--probably sometime around, oh, 1978 or so. (NO, not in the 2000s.) I had the seat on the end and at some point Jimmy wandered down our aisle, singing "Baby Face," and when he went to shake my hand, I just up and kissed the boy, pushing the mic out of the way. Hussy.
2) I am unable to eat peppers (the veggie, not the seasoning) without getting sick, which is tragic after the major role they played in my Italian-cooking-infused childhood.
3) Hardly a newsflash but I'm a terrible night owl and have been for years. My older son (all of 3 and 3/4, as of today) is also trending this way, which is unfortunate as the hours after he's asleep are when I actually get on the computer.
4) I have been to 45 states--35 for work. I'm missing Montana, Alaska, Oregon, Louisiana, and New Mexico. My original goal was "50 by 40," but having those kids in the second half of my 30s really slowed my travel. I regret nothing except missing New Orleans pre-Katrina. My last "new" state? Ohio. Really. Unless you count being in the Louisville airport, which is actually in Ohio...but I don't. And the one before that was Texas. Still haven't been to Dallas or Houston, but I can tell you a ton about the cockroaches in Laredo. (Not a slam against the people of Laredo...I mean the cockroaches for real. They galloped in herds across the floor of the ballroom where I was making a presentation, and no one blinked but me.) I think Alaska is next.
5) I grew up in a very conservative area of a very conservative archdiocese, and yet had a tremendously liberal Catholic upbringing, with things like celebrating the Passover seder in CCD and inviting the Quakers' youth group to Mass and meeting with them as part of their exploration of faiths. I know it was the 1970s but it still seems almost impossible that it happened that way and I feel lucky it did.
6) I never thought I would breastfeed a baby past four months or the cutting of the first teeth and here I am with a 22 month old still going strong.
7) My ears are not pierced. Neither were my mother's, nor her mother's before her. My grandmother was raised primarily by her grandmother, who considered it "paisan" (peasant, low class, in this instance) and not something "American girls" did. Times have changed and I should perhaps reclaim my heritage but in elementary school, I figured out that if I pierced them, I'd only ever get earrings for birthday gifts again, and that was the end of that idea.
8) My parents bought a color TV for the first time so I could watch Sesame Street in color. I was 9 months old. My mother told me for years that she never could have gotten dinner on the table if it weren't for Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers, and Electric Company buying her the time to do it. So maybe this is why I let my kids watch tv despite a husband who actually worked on coding violence in children's television.
Hmmm, eight people. Well, there's Rachel, and Anjali, of course, although I'm thinking that she has done a meme like this before...and Tiffany. I'll try to think of others at a more decent hour!
Here are the rules:
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
Hmmm. I'm not sure I know eight bloggers to tag. And eight random facts about me:
1) I kissed Jimmy Osmond. Yep, always with an eye for the less obvious heartthrob, even from girlhood, that would be me. Donny was obnoxious with those purple socks, but Jimmy? Adorable and overlooked as the kid brother. Luckily, my mother loved me very much and bought tickets to see the Osmonds perform at the Valley Forge Music Center--a theater in the round--remember those?--probably sometime around, oh, 1978 or so. (NO, not in the 2000s.) I had the seat on the end and at some point Jimmy wandered down our aisle, singing "Baby Face," and when he went to shake my hand, I just up and kissed the boy, pushing the mic out of the way. Hussy.
2) I am unable to eat peppers (the veggie, not the seasoning) without getting sick, which is tragic after the major role they played in my Italian-cooking-infused childhood.
3) Hardly a newsflash but I'm a terrible night owl and have been for years. My older son (all of 3 and 3/4, as of today) is also trending this way, which is unfortunate as the hours after he's asleep are when I actually get on the computer.
4) I have been to 45 states--35 for work. I'm missing Montana, Alaska, Oregon, Louisiana, and New Mexico. My original goal was "50 by 40," but having those kids in the second half of my 30s really slowed my travel. I regret nothing except missing New Orleans pre-Katrina. My last "new" state? Ohio. Really. Unless you count being in the Louisville airport, which is actually in Ohio...but I don't. And the one before that was Texas. Still haven't been to Dallas or Houston, but I can tell you a ton about the cockroaches in Laredo. (Not a slam against the people of Laredo...I mean the cockroaches for real. They galloped in herds across the floor of the ballroom where I was making a presentation, and no one blinked but me.) I think Alaska is next.
5) I grew up in a very conservative area of a very conservative archdiocese, and yet had a tremendously liberal Catholic upbringing, with things like celebrating the Passover seder in CCD and inviting the Quakers' youth group to Mass and meeting with them as part of their exploration of faiths. I know it was the 1970s but it still seems almost impossible that it happened that way and I feel lucky it did.
6) I never thought I would breastfeed a baby past four months or the cutting of the first teeth and here I am with a 22 month old still going strong.
7) My ears are not pierced. Neither were my mother's, nor her mother's before her. My grandmother was raised primarily by her grandmother, who considered it "paisan" (peasant, low class, in this instance) and not something "American girls" did. Times have changed and I should perhaps reclaim my heritage but in elementary school, I figured out that if I pierced them, I'd only ever get earrings for birthday gifts again, and that was the end of that idea.
8) My parents bought a color TV for the first time so I could watch Sesame Street in color. I was 9 months old. My mother told me for years that she never could have gotten dinner on the table if it weren't for Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers, and Electric Company buying her the time to do it. So maybe this is why I let my kids watch tv despite a husband who actually worked on coding violence in children's television.
Hmmm, eight people. Well, there's Rachel, and Anjali, of course, although I'm thinking that she has done a meme like this before...and Tiffany. I'll try to think of others at a more decent hour!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Works For Me Wednesday--Splenda Soda
What a wonderful visit to California we had last month! We had a great time...and only one of many good memories and discoveries: they make diet soda with Splenda now!
I know, I know...diet soda is not a good thing in general. SODA is not a good thing in general. But alas--I crave those bubbles like almost nothing else. They soothe my tummy and my soul.
But...after that pesky brain lesion, it was suggested I stay away from aspartame. (I know, there are no conclusive studies on this, but there are enough hints that SOME people might be more likely to get brain lesions from the stuff...and I have that pesky Lesion of Unknown Origin...so why take chances?) And then the triglycerides meant that regular soda was out. And I don't like mineral water, club soda, or seltzer, so I don't like the fruit juice spritzers.
But hooray! Apparently, while I've been paying attention to things like baby food, Splenda has made an appearance in diet soda! I'm so excited. I'm trying not to overdo but wow, I am delighted to once again drink a diet coke with the rest of the known universe. Or a black cherry soda with lunch. So soda with Splenda--that's working for me!
For more great ideas (and more original ideas) visit Shannon's blog Rocks in my Dryer for Works for Me Wednesdays!
I know, I know...diet soda is not a good thing in general. SODA is not a good thing in general. But alas--I crave those bubbles like almost nothing else. They soothe my tummy and my soul.
But...after that pesky brain lesion, it was suggested I stay away from aspartame. (I know, there are no conclusive studies on this, but there are enough hints that SOME people might be more likely to get brain lesions from the stuff...and I have that pesky Lesion of Unknown Origin...so why take chances?) And then the triglycerides meant that regular soda was out. And I don't like mineral water, club soda, or seltzer, so I don't like the fruit juice spritzers.
But hooray! Apparently, while I've been paying attention to things like baby food, Splenda has made an appearance in diet soda! I'm so excited. I'm trying not to overdo but wow, I am delighted to once again drink a diet coke with the rest of the known universe. Or a black cherry soda with lunch. So soda with Splenda--that's working for me!
For more great ideas (and more original ideas) visit Shannon's blog Rocks in my Dryer for Works for Me Wednesdays!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Menu Planning Tuesday
Ok, I took Memorial Day off and we went to the pool for a cookout.
Tonight: Mac & cheese and sauteed veggies, thanks to our magnificent babysitter.
Tomorrow: Trader Joe's pad thai for grownups, mac & cheese for kids.
Thursday: Noodle & chicken bake with broccoli and carrots in tomato sauce.
Friday: Trader Joe's pizza plus veggies from CSA box on Thursday.
Saturday: Anniversary Party for my in-laws--no cooking!
Sunday: will work itself out. Happy week!
Tonight: Mac & cheese and sauteed veggies, thanks to our magnificent babysitter.
Tomorrow: Trader Joe's pad thai for grownups, mac & cheese for kids.
Thursday: Noodle & chicken bake with broccoli and carrots in tomato sauce.
Friday: Trader Joe's pizza plus veggies from CSA box on Thursday.
Saturday: Anniversary Party for my in-laws--no cooking!
Sunday: will work itself out. Happy week!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
WFMW--Safety Is How We Say We Love You
I just saw the most beautiful thing...and it turned my stomach. On this lovely spring day, a dad was out for a bike ride with his little girl on the back of his bike, and they were laughing and chatting. So what was the problem? Well, I'll start with this: neither one had a helmet on. But while Dad was unable to take 3 minutes to protect the lives of himself and his daugher, he had plenty of time to put in his earbud for his phone or MP3 player, I don't know which. So I don't even know if he was laughing and chatting with his little girl or someone else!
So, I don't mean to nag total strangers but please please please wear your bike helmets and make sure your kids do too. My kids don't love them either. But when our kids were very little, we started with the phrase in the post's title. If one of our sons fussed that he didn't want to be in his carseat, we explained that the seatbelts keep us all safe, and keeping them safe was another way we say "we love you," so think of that harness like a big long hug from mommy or daddy. Same thing for bike helmets. Or holding hands in parking lots. Or whatever else it is that keeps our kids safe.
We don't want them growing up to be afraid of the world. But there are safe ways to move in it, and we'd like to keep them as safe as we can, and teaching them "Safety is how we say we love you" has really sweetened some unpopular decisions, and works for us!
For more Works for Me Wednesday ideas, visit Rocks in my Dryer!
So, I don't mean to nag total strangers but please please please wear your bike helmets and make sure your kids do too. My kids don't love them either. But when our kids were very little, we started with the phrase in the post's title. If one of our sons fussed that he didn't want to be in his carseat, we explained that the seatbelts keep us all safe, and keeping them safe was another way we say "we love you," so think of that harness like a big long hug from mommy or daddy. Same thing for bike helmets. Or holding hands in parking lots. Or whatever else it is that keeps our kids safe.
We don't want them growing up to be afraid of the world. But there are safe ways to move in it, and we'd like to keep them as safe as we can, and teaching them "Safety is how we say we love you" has really sweetened some unpopular decisions, and works for us!
For more Works for Me Wednesday ideas, visit Rocks in my Dryer!
Monday, May 21, 2007
Menu Planning Monday
Last week was rife with eating out opportunities.
But woe is us this week: our new refrigerator arrived and it feels much smaller than our other one. (The cabinets in our kitchen were built exactly to the old one's measurements and of course, they don't make any that exact size anymore. So to get a bigger fridge--or even one with the same cubic feet--would have meant a kitchen re-do...not in the budget!)
So this week involves Finishing Everything That Is Taking Up Space in the Fridge.
Every meal will be served with iced tea from the two gallons we have.
Monday
Lunch: noodles with red sauce for boys, salad and sweet potato for me
Dinner: filet mignons on the grill (didn't say this was all bad!); pea, radish & feta salad; corn, tomato, and cucumber salad; and stir fry of bok choy, mushrooms, scallions, and celery
Tuesday:
Lunch: frozen pizza shells with red sauce & mozzarella, celery sticks and cherry tomatoes for boys, salad and baked potato for me
Dinner: noodles with 2 kinds of pesto, green salad
Wednesday:
Lunch: yogurt, berries, and leftover noodles or crackers
Dinner: ham, potato salad, green salad, some frozen veggie (my father in law is coming and I don't know what he likes)
Thursday:
Lunch: probably out to celebrate last day of school for Son #1
Dinner: beef stroganoff, salad, whatever is in the CSA veggie box
Friday:
Whatever leftovers we can rustle out of the fridge before the family Memorial Day extravaganza begins!
And in between there we'll be drinking a lot of iced tea, lemonade, and other random liquids that seem to have accumulated in our fridge!
But woe is us this week: our new refrigerator arrived and it feels much smaller than our other one. (The cabinets in our kitchen were built exactly to the old one's measurements and of course, they don't make any that exact size anymore. So to get a bigger fridge--or even one with the same cubic feet--would have meant a kitchen re-do...not in the budget!)
So this week involves Finishing Everything That Is Taking Up Space in the Fridge.
Every meal will be served with iced tea from the two gallons we have.
Monday
Lunch: noodles with red sauce for boys, salad and sweet potato for me
Dinner: filet mignons on the grill (didn't say this was all bad!); pea, radish & feta salad; corn, tomato, and cucumber salad; and stir fry of bok choy, mushrooms, scallions, and celery
Tuesday:
Lunch: frozen pizza shells with red sauce & mozzarella, celery sticks and cherry tomatoes for boys, salad and baked potato for me
Dinner: noodles with 2 kinds of pesto, green salad
Wednesday:
Lunch: yogurt, berries, and leftover noodles or crackers
Dinner: ham, potato salad, green salad, some frozen veggie (my father in law is coming and I don't know what he likes)
Thursday:
Lunch: probably out to celebrate last day of school for Son #1
Dinner: beef stroganoff, salad, whatever is in the CSA veggie box
Friday:
Whatever leftovers we can rustle out of the fridge before the family Memorial Day extravaganza begins!
And in between there we'll be drinking a lot of iced tea, lemonade, and other random liquids that seem to have accumulated in our fridge!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
We Interrupt the Memes...
...for a spontaneous post on my life.
And a momentous day it was: I got my hair cut.
For normal people, this is not a big deal. But I have been growing my hair since before J was born.
Four years ago, shortly before I got pregnant, the stylist I'd been seeing since college, and the only guy who didn't screw up my curly hair, moved to Florida. Tragic. And while many of his clients JET DOWN TO SEE HIM (I am not kidding), that is not in the cards (or the budget) for me.
So I started seeing someone else, more local, when I was pregnant with R and then when he was little. But I never really felt at home in the salon--too P*rrotHe@dy for me. (Though I hear they now serve margaritas with a pedicure--this could be persuasive.) But I felt like I needed to find somewhere local since I wasn't commuting to the city every day anyway, and I was really in some kind of fear about most salons in my area. There is a real "look" to hair in this county, and it is a look I fear rather than covet. It is perhaps an unrealistic fear, as most people my age seem to not have it, but I am truly afraid of this look and want very much to avoid it.
Anyway. That stylist left that salon, and I had a bit of a falling out with them anyway over a gift certificate, so I was on my own again.
Around that same time, we had two relatives and a friend who were treated for cancer and lost their hair. Add to that the pregnancy-accelerated hair growth, and I was inspired to stop cutting it and wait until I had enough to donate. Then came the development that until recently, J had no security blanket but instead used my hair, and you have the recipe for a really long time without a cut. (J now has not one but two security blankets, Binket and Binky, AND the gigantic W*nnie the P**h that he adores and sleeps with every night.) So, as an insightful friend at Mothers and More pointed out, somewhere along the line it became my security blanket.
But. I was really getting tired of how long it took to wash my hair. And needing to condition the ends. And how raggedy the ends were anyway. And that I had to sleep in a ponytail to not wake myself up by rolling on my own hair. And I could go on, but it was really time. But I never found the right person or salon. I tried a few times to schedule...and something always happened. The sitter cancelled. I realized I had something more time critical to do (like mail taxes). One of the boys got sick.
So, I ended up at a Mothers and More meeting asking for stylist suggestions, and got five great suggestions. I called them all and drove by several to check them out.
Then, in the end, it came down to Who Had Hours on Wednesday. I checked them all and my friend A's was the only one with hours tonight. It doesn't hurt that she is less than 2 miles from my house--or that she is by far the cheapest. But it was time, and we were having dinner tonight at a fabulous restaurant that is about to close, and so I gritted my teeth and took the plunge.
And...I love it. I love her. I love how it feels, how it looks, how she listened and thought and didn't use much product and wouldn't let me cut off too much anyway so the little boys wouldn't cry when they saw me. I love how T looks at me with the haircut.
The sound of the scissors slicing was a little jarring. Cutting off the last of my hair that my mother saw and touched was hard. Cutting off the hair that my baby boy clutched in his tiny fist as he tried to make sense of the new world of air and light and hunger was hard. Cutting the hair that used to tickle the cheek of my baby and make him giggle was hard. But knowing that someone who needs hair will have it helped. And getting used to this cut? I think that will be easy.
And a momentous day it was: I got my hair cut.
For normal people, this is not a big deal. But I have been growing my hair since before J was born.
Four years ago, shortly before I got pregnant, the stylist I'd been seeing since college, and the only guy who didn't screw up my curly hair, moved to Florida. Tragic. And while many of his clients JET DOWN TO SEE HIM (I am not kidding), that is not in the cards (or the budget) for me.
So I started seeing someone else, more local, when I was pregnant with R and then when he was little. But I never really felt at home in the salon--too P*rrotHe@dy for me. (Though I hear they now serve margaritas with a pedicure--this could be persuasive.) But I felt like I needed to find somewhere local since I wasn't commuting to the city every day anyway, and I was really in some kind of fear about most salons in my area. There is a real "look" to hair in this county, and it is a look I fear rather than covet. It is perhaps an unrealistic fear, as most people my age seem to not have it, but I am truly afraid of this look and want very much to avoid it.
Anyway. That stylist left that salon, and I had a bit of a falling out with them anyway over a gift certificate, so I was on my own again.
Around that same time, we had two relatives and a friend who were treated for cancer and lost their hair. Add to that the pregnancy-accelerated hair growth, and I was inspired to stop cutting it and wait until I had enough to donate. Then came the development that until recently, J had no security blanket but instead used my hair, and you have the recipe for a really long time without a cut. (J now has not one but two security blankets, Binket and Binky, AND the gigantic W*nnie the P**h that he adores and sleeps with every night.) So, as an insightful friend at Mothers and More pointed out, somewhere along the line it became my security blanket.
But. I was really getting tired of how long it took to wash my hair. And needing to condition the ends. And how raggedy the ends were anyway. And that I had to sleep in a ponytail to not wake myself up by rolling on my own hair. And I could go on, but it was really time. But I never found the right person or salon. I tried a few times to schedule...and something always happened. The sitter cancelled. I realized I had something more time critical to do (like mail taxes). One of the boys got sick.
So, I ended up at a Mothers and More meeting asking for stylist suggestions, and got five great suggestions. I called them all and drove by several to check them out.
Then, in the end, it came down to Who Had Hours on Wednesday. I checked them all and my friend A's was the only one with hours tonight. It doesn't hurt that she is less than 2 miles from my house--or that she is by far the cheapest. But it was time, and we were having dinner tonight at a fabulous restaurant that is about to close, and so I gritted my teeth and took the plunge.
And...I love it. I love her. I love how it feels, how it looks, how she listened and thought and didn't use much product and wouldn't let me cut off too much anyway so the little boys wouldn't cry when they saw me. I love how T looks at me with the haircut.
The sound of the scissors slicing was a little jarring. Cutting off the last of my hair that my mother saw and touched was hard. Cutting off the hair that my baby boy clutched in his tiny fist as he tried to make sense of the new world of air and light and hunger was hard. Cutting the hair that used to tickle the cheek of my baby and make him giggle was hard. But knowing that someone who needs hair will have it helped. And getting used to this cut? I think that will be easy.
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