When life gives you lemons, dye them pink/red (email)

Hello again,

So much has happened since my last email.  Most importantly, I completed 6 weeks (30 treatment sessions) of radiation and started teaching a course on Methods of Sociological Research!  Radiation was like nothing I've ever experienced... it was simultaneously easier and harder than I imagined.  As my mental and physical abilities slowly come out of, what seemed like, a never ending fog, I have been able to reflect more on my experiences.  As time and energy allow, I hope to be able to write more about this... So, stay tuned to my blog, if you so please... eventually there will be more to see! ;)   

Future Steps:

Gertie (my tumor) is often referred to as being a card-carrying member of AARP, therefore it is only fitting I take a pill which will have menopause-like side effects.  For the next 5 years, I'll be taking a daily pill, Tamoxifen.  Taking Tamoxifen will reduce my risk of recurrence by 40%.  Woah!?  40% that's huge!  Well... yes and no.  The combination of having Gertie surgically removed *and* enjoying living in the lap of luxury of radiation puts my current recurrence rate at less than 10%.  Tamoxifen will decrease my chances of getting another baby Gertie to about 2.5%-6%.  I have already proven to be an outlier once, I'd rather not test fate again, so I've chosen to go ahead with trying Tamoxifen.    

In other news, due to the fact I am voluntarily putting my body into (pseudo) menopause, I went ahead and collected as many little eggs as I could before starting Tamoxifen.  Two weeks of nightly shots and more ultrasounds than the average bear was worth it, merely for the piece of mind that I'm, again, doing everything I can for myself.  Only time will tell if I decide to use these little ladies to make little babies, but if I didn't retrieve and freeze them now, I wouldn't have the option later.  Right now, thinking more about that future decision is for the birds - my brain can only handle so many life decisions at a time... AND you can probably handle being privy to only so much of my health history, too...  Ha!    

I hope all is well with you!

Later gators!

One Boob, Two Boobs. Red Boob, White Boob.

My mom took some of what she's learned about my journey and made it into a Dr. Suess-esque poem.

One boob, two boobs
Red boob, white boob.
Black boob, brown boob.
Old boob, new boob.

This one has a little scar.
This one has a little mar.
Say! What a lot of boobs there are!

Some boobs are thin.
Some boobs are fat.
The fat one has a little brown hat!

Some are sad.
Some are mad.
And some are very, very bad!

Why are they sad, mad, and bad?
I don't know.
But I am glad it's not my nads!

Eeeek!!! I finished 6 weeks of radiation!!!

Holy cats! No more treatments! I have a certificate, my boost copper cutout, 

and a boob (that's simultaneously happy and mad) to prove it! 

What will I do with all my free time now?! (30/30)

On my first day of treatment I heard someone ring the Victors Bell bell 

and felt my time was so far away! 6 weeks later, it was finally my turn! (30/30)

Celebrating "graduation" with a little Minnesota in Michigan! 

Unfortunately the Twins didn't win 😕 (30/30)

The end of phase one and the beginning of Boost week!

There's something oddly refreshing about celebrating the end of week 5 with the the 

Young Adult Support Group. Our stories are all so different and the same at the same time. 

Plus we (unfortunately) now know how to speak the same language. (25/30) 

Surprise! Here's to celebrating the beginning of my final week by bringing wine in 

my very own (complimentary!) #vivajennz bag! (26/30)

I came out of my appointment to these photos taken by @witchythuggrrrlpop, 

while she was patiently waiting for me #nowiwanticecream #actuallyialwaysdo (26/30)

Boost (week) cookies! They came in pairs #oneredandonewhite and were made using 

my boost copper cutout as a mold! Peyton, JD, and @sanderso7 are just as excited 

(and super creative) as I am to be done! (27/30)

A new doctor was added to my entourage, his expertise and the 

view of the new digs are all pretty outstanding! (28/30)

My future plan for celebrating the end of radiation, except with balloons 

A rare view inside the radiation room

The Radiation Oncology parking lot is *clearly* one of the most dangerous places in

 Ann Arbor! #actuallywearetoofatiguedtostealanything #theclubapparentlystillextsts (23/30)

An uneventful Friday = a compilation of various photos taken thus far. 

The mask makes my goggles and breathing machine seem like nothing! #batcaveparkinglot #SuperBatsphotoshoot (24/30)

Flashing the doctor and side effects

"Does it itch? Can I take a look? (I flash the doctor, trench coat style, except with a gown) 

Oooh, that *looks* like it should itch!" #oneredandonewhite #icouldsleepfordays #sideeffects (19/30)

Good bye June. Hello July. There's actually an end in sight! 

#superbatcaveparkingpass (20/30)

A day off of treatments is clearly the real reason for fireworks on the 4th of July! 

No need to dress patriotic for the 4th, my body is already red, white, and blue! #oneredandonewhite #blueradiationsticker #blueboostmapingonboobandpit (21/30)

BEAM READY. BEAM ON. The view from the outside. (22/30)

The right pit got treated just in time for Hotel Megan's grand opening!

Everyone stresses I "take care of myself," so today I took that to mean: 

shaving my right pit *and* wearing deodorant on it (I think the general population is thanking 

me for that one!), a run/walk, and a root beer float! (14/30)

Celebrating being halfway done! 

It feels so great and so daunting all at the same time. (15/30)

A relaxing Sunday afternoon with the guests of Hotel Megan

The guests of Hotel Megan got a 

(hopefully) once in a lifetime behind the scenes tour! (16/30)

Best guests ever - they cooked, cleaned, drove me to appointments, 

and prepped me for my interview! Plus Ezra got a man crush on 

"super buff glasses guy/Chris Pratt as Clark Kent" (Ezra's names for Matt). (17/30) 

My copper cutout reveal party. AKA prep work for my "boost" 

(which is still a week and a half away). I wonder if it's safe to keep and hang as "art" later? (18/30)

LUVUMEG Hey! Thanks! That's nice of you to say!

Cheers to successfully completing two weeks 

*and* finally trying "strong drinks" at Knight's! (10/30)

Oddly enough, it was only the right pit that 

needed the midday freshen up. (11/30) 

● I think I'll rest here x2 

● Matching helmets like it's our job 

● Round hole in a pink square peg; a drawing, per my mom's request (12/30)

As seen on the way to today's appointment - I usually go by Mugs, 

but I suppose I'll take Meg (13/30)

You look like (a smellier version of) Darlene from Rosanne

The feet of *non* radiation patients

Tuesday: The machine was 40 minutes behind schedule! The annoying thing about when they're running late is you have to wait alone.  If someone joins you at your appointment they aren't allowed to go beyond the doors to the secret lair.  Yet!  There were two others in my waiting room that were NOT radiation patients.  I am still trying to figure out how they got in there!  Daric was waiting in the approved waiting room and apparently fell asleep during my treatment.  Good for him.

This guy fell asleep while waiting 

and was fascinated by the rock moat that leads the way. (7/30)

Wednesday I got in right on time; I barely knew what to do with myself when they called my name at 4:59 PM!  I have a large zit on my chest, though, which I blame on radiation therapy.  It's the strangest thing, I don't usually get large zits on my chest (or anywhere...knock on wood) and this thing aligns perfectly with my tattoo and sticker.  Upon hopping up on the table I warned the therapists to not get distracted by my zit, as it was *not* one of their markers.  "Ah, no worries, we're trained tattoo finders," they informed me.  This conversation led into one about how I looked like Darlene from Rosanne (did she have a large zit on her chest as well?) and had I heard this before?  Ah, yes, unfortunately it's not my first rodeo with this reference.  Back when I was in AmeriCorps there was a Facebook Group "We all have a friend that looks like Darlene" (or something to that effect).  Furthermore, last month I was stopped by a woman in a waiting room.  She thought we knew each other and insisted upon it until she finally realized she thought I looked like the lady on The Talk.  I'm still mulling over my feelings about the reference...        

Not being allowed to shave or wear deodorant makes for 

an interesting run in 85° weather 

#heclearlyhasnotyetsmelledme

#heprobablysmellstoo

#thehugissupposedtocovermychestzit (8/30)

Thank you, Sir, for letting all of us listen 

to your voicemails while in the waiting room. (9/30) 

Your next radiation therapy model, right here, joining cancer support groups

Week 2 was off to an interesting start.  Monday I hopped up on the table, they got me all situated, and then the "hush hush" talk began.  Did they see something I didn't?  Were they whispering about how my cancer had come back and they weren't sure how to break the news?  There were three people in the room, then two disappeared, and one stayed back to keep me company.  She's a young Radiation Therapist, very nice.  Eventually she explained that the machine was broken - I could move side to side and forward and backward, but it wouldn't go down.  So, there I was on the table suspended 4 feet up in the air with nothing but time and thoughts.  After asking what all the numbers on the computers meant we were still left waiting.  

"Are we allowed to take pictures in here?" I asked.  And, with that, a photo-shoot ensued.  We put on my googles and mouthpiece and did a mock simulation of my treatments.  The photos are clearly amazing; I could basically be the star in a demonstration video of Radiation Therapy.  Not before too long we were interrupted by the physicist who was called in to examine the machine.  (Yes, I did tell them they were raining on my modeling career parade and interrupted us during my photo shoot!)  While they worked, I continued taking photos of my surroundings.  Long story short, the machine was broken, they had to manually crank me down, and I had to switch to another machine. 

That night, due to the fact I am considered a "Young Adult with Cancer," I figured I would give the support group of the same name a try.  I called ahead to check on the deets and was told family was invited to the meetings.  Knowing this, I *wasn't* going to go alone.  Both Matt and Lisa were able and willing to go.  Slowly the support group members started trickling in - all cancer (and former cancer) patients.  No fellow support systems.  Whoops.  But!  They told me on the phone all were welcome!  Nonetheless everyone was beyond nice and welcoming.  I safely left my phone charging in the corner and, thankfully, the whole scenario didn't go down like the little old lady in Dumb and Dumber (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppSUnOB4DZw).  No fears, young adults with cancer were *indeed* genuinely nice people.

Week 2 is off to an interesting start:

1. Bed got stuck with me on it

2. Physicist was called in to fix bed

3. Bed was manually cranked down

4. Switched to new bed/room

4. Was the only one that brought support to the support group...

(6/30) 

 

High five for day five!

Week one is officially complete!  Part of what got me through this week was knowing my longest friend (33 years and counting!) was coming to town, and she certainly didn't disappoint.  We spent the weekend taking care of ourselves, staycation style, in a hotel.  Not only did we enjoy a decadent dinner, complete with a bottle of wine, we enjoyed relaxing on the river.  The time went by waay too fast though.  It's amazing how quickly the switch is flipped and I can go from relaxation to worrying about what lies ahead.   

In other news, it appears I may or may not have tact when talking to people.  In general, I have a tendency to talk to random people.  These days, given the proper scenario, I can have word vomit and talk nonchalantly about having cancer.  Watching people's reactions is quite interesting, almost a sociological study of sorts.  Turns out people don't really know how to react.  After my appointment, Annie and I stopped in the Cancer Center for a quick snack from the vending machines.  We had been hanging out, laughing and eating, for a good 15 minutes when along came a middle aged woman.  "Is it okay if I use the machine?" she asked.  "Of course," I responded.  "We're just hanging out here, really."  "Aren't you a little young to be hanging out next to the vending machines?"  "Ah, well we are old souls.  Plus, technically I have cancer of the old ladies.  So really I'm about 70 years old, I just look really good for my age."  Crickets... The woman retrieved her vending machine snack, gave me an awkward head nod and smile, and fled the scene of the crime.        

A high 5 for completing 5 days. A high 5 for only 5 weeks left. 

And an enormous high 5 for my longest friend being in town! (5/30) 

My reward after week one!

Day 4 - Dreaming of ringing the bell

Today I received a personal escort from the Cancer Center to Radiation Oncology.  She took me down the back hallways of the hospital and before I knew it we came in the back way to the secret lair.  I really feel like an insider now!  Although, maybe not, because I'm not sure I could reenact the route.  

After changing into my gown for the day, I left the locker room and stopped to admire the Victors Bell.  (At the end of treatment there is a bell patients ring)  So, there I was dreaming about my time to ring the bell when a nurse walked by, "Do you get to ring that bell today?"  "HA!  I wish! I am just getting started!  I am on day four.  Five more weeks to go!"  I looked up and there were my Radiation Therapists in the hall waiting for me.  "And it looks like I am getting started with day four right now!  See ya!"

Thursdays are check-in with my oncologist(s) days.  Today I met with 3 doctors - my oncologist, my second oncologist (a resident doctor), and a student doctor.  When asked if it was okay for the student to be there I said, "Sure, why not, everyone wants to get a sneak peek at my boobs!"  Sometimes I'm not sure the doctors know what to do with my sarcasm and jokes.  I do enjoy watching their reactions though.  I like to think I add a little humor and young life to their day.

Since it was my first time in a couple of weeks seeing my oncologists I took the opportunity to express how unimpressed I am with my permanent radiation sticker being off center.  The sticker is just to the right of center.  Now, I realize it aligns perfectly with the tattoo between my boobs, but still!  Neither of them are in the middle of my body!  When I mentioned this was not ideal for patients with OCD tendencies, my oncologist apologized.  To which I responded, "Thanks, but somehow I don't believe you really are sorry..."  She laughed and agreed.  The marks are off center for a purpose - they align my body on the table and treat the area of my body to the left of the marks (I of course already knew this, but still!).

I think I'm slowly learning the ins and outs of the secret lair.
Plus!  Today the bus delivered a special guest. (4/30)

         

Ready, Set, RADIATION! (email)

Happy Thursday!

On Monday I officially started my 30 day journey of radiation treatments.  I go once a day (weekends off!) to Radiation Oncology, drop off my support (friend) of the day in the waiting area and head into my secret lair.  This place is like a well oiled machine!  I type in my last four digits of my social security number into a computer and it tells me which machine I am on that day.  There are 6 possible machines - sadly that means there a lot of us SuperBats out there...  I did catch a glimpse of one of my fellow club member's tattoos in the waiting room, so I knew he was legit - no impostors allowed!

Each of my appointments are scheduled for 25 minutes, but actual treatments are only about 2 minutes.  I lay on a bed (which is set up specifically for my body before I get in the room) and the radiation therapists start moving me - they are very adamant about the fact they move me, I don't move me!  I have three tattoos and one permanent sticker which they use to make sure I align perfectly on the table. With my arms above my head, snorkel machine in my mouth, a nose plug, and goggles displaying my breathing pattern, we begin.  The therapists leave the room, the radiation machine rotates around me, and my breathing pattern is measured (exhales on the grey line).  Once my breathing is stable a yellow line appears above the grey line, I inhale through my mouth until I reach the yellow line, at which point I am "in the zone" (it still gets me every time they say that, "She's in the zone!").  Once I am in the zone, I hold my breath, which is when the actual radiation is administered.  I get two shots from the top right and two shots from the bottom left.  And that is that, for the day.  Same thing.  Every day.  For 30 days.     

       

In other news, after much thought I've finally decided upon a name for Leftie's unexpected pregnancy.  Due to the fact the tumor is commonly called "cancer of the older women" I found it only fitting to name the tumor an old-fashioned name - Gertrude (Gertie for short).  So, there's that.    

Also, I decided I wanted to document this journey, via a photo a day.  If you are interested in following, I'll be posting my photos on Instagram, as well as on my blog: http://justanotherlumpintheroad.blogspot.com/  

Hope to see you soon!

Later  Gators!

So long, 7 o'clock alarm!

As it turns out, Gertie (my tumor) tested positive for Estrogen (99%) and Progesterone (85%).  That being said, I was no longer allowed to feed my tumor through taking my 7pm daily dose of birth control.  How will I ever know what time it is?   My life had revolved around this 7 o'clock alarm for so long, it's crazy to imagine life without it!  How would my friends know what time it is?!  They had also relied on my steady alarm.  Ah well, the things you do when you have to tend to your (former) tumor...  I went off the pill and switched to a non-hormonal contraception, the Copper IUD.

Now, perhaps this is too much information for you, but I have come to the conclusion that I don't care.  These are all stories that make up the craziness that comes along with cancer and therefore it is important for me to remember.  I wasn't looking forward to this experience, I had heard horror stories of IUDs.  My horror story kind of goes along with those of others, except the main downfall is I had to wait in the room for 2 hours.  I kid you not!  My appointment was for 10:10am and I did not see a doctor until 12pm!  I kept myself busy by sending unsolicited photos to family and friends - both photos of me and photos of the medical tools which I was so lucky to stare at and wonder how they were going to hurt me.

When the doctors finally came into room I quickly realized the doctor doing the procedure was a rookie!  They claimed this was not her first rodeo, however with the amount of questions she was asking and how long the 5 minute procedure took, I have my doubts.  Luckily it was a once and done deal, I hope to never go through that again!  

New Earrings?

Hello?  Anyone in there?

Two hours to stare at my fate.