First Date with the Oncologist

Ten days have passed since my last appointment. The appointments slowed down for a little while, so that was nice. While it lasted, that is. After meeting with the oncologist this past week, I'm fully aware that this little adventure is about to pick up steam again.

I left work to pick up my mother so she could help me remember all the things they might tell me during the consultation. It's also nice not going to these appointments alone and sometimes you just need your mom. This appointment seemed like it would be a breeze though.  It was a consultation. I had no expectations of needles or tests. I envisioned sitting in his office discussing the chemotherapy treatment plan.  Maybe sipping on some kind of beverage.

We arrived early and I got a cup of tea. They used real coffee mugs!?  So very trusting of their clientele. I hadn't even had a sip of my drink before they called my name. No office, as I imagined. It was an exam room. Ugh. Okay, maybe they just preferred these conversations in the exam rooms. I mean it was a consultation, there should be no needles, right!?

First a young nurse took my blood pressure and then another nurse joined us in the exam room. The first nurse left. (Trying to remember people's names during all of this will be impossible, I've already met so many). After going through a series of questions, the second nurse then left me to sit with my mother and wait for the doctor. I figured that this meeting wouldn't last too long. I mean, "Here is the plan. Go on about your way."  The appointment started at 1245, mind you, so I planned to be out of there by 145 or 200?

My mom and I sat chit chatting about random things. I realized that, even though I talk a lot and quickly in my normal day to day life, the level of chatter had increased dramatically.  Clearly, I was nervous. 

The doctor finally came in and proceeded to ask some of the same questions regarding the history. It seemed to be par for the course, repeating my entire history for everyone. But, as I mentioned, I was in a chatty mood.

He stated that I would definitely need radiation. I had a lumpectomy and since I had that instead of a mastectomy, having radiation would ensure my prognosis would be the same as if I had a mastectomy. Okay.  Then the chemo talk.  It was another moment where the ball was in my court on what we should do.  To stick with that analogy, I passed it back. I wanted their advice on what his medical professional opinion was as far as what we should do next. I felt and feel ill equipped to make those decisions. Honestly, I can do research til I'm blue in the face, but at the end of the day he is the one that went to school for this. He is the one that has been doing this for 21 years. I needed his professional opinion. Which he was more than fine to give me, in a sense. We took the long way though. 

Sometimes I wonder if I should have just gone with the radiation. But here are a couple of things I found myself explaining to other people so they understand why I'm doing what I'm doing. Many people think chemo is bad or worse than the illness. I get that. In a lot of ways it is, but statistically it has been proven that chemo works very well with breast cancer. Especially, triple negative breast cancer.

Some people ask why I wouldn't just have the double mastectomy. According to my doctors, my survival rate is the same. So if they removed all of the cancer and I do the radiation, it's not necessary. I tested negative for the BRCA genes. So again, no reason to go that route. And my mother did not have breast cancer or never had it before. (knock on imaginary wood) My grandmother did, but because she was not a direct link to me and she was in her 60s when diagnosed, they did not feel this would constitute a worrisome connection to me.

You also must understand, I may not say things exactly right, but the point is correct. None of these things will change my survivability. And then I thought about odds. I had a 1 out of 8 chance of having breast cancer in the first place and I got it (based on the above). (probably even less because of my age) I had a 25% chance of the biopsy producing cancer results. I had/have cancer. I had a 10% to 20% chance of having triple negative breast cancer. Ding! Ding! Ding! Got that too. So when I look at the 12% odds of NOT surviving 5 years and 17% chance of NOT surviving 10 years, I want to close that gap. Whatever is in my power, to the best of my ability.

Without chemo (based on all my specifics) I have 88% chance of a 5 year survival and 83% of a 10 year survival. With a milder form of chemo these numbers raise to 90ish and 85ish. However, with the most aggressive form of chemo, known as AC + T or the Red Devil plus Taxol, I have a 92% and 87%. Again, I want to close the gap. 

The other good news is that in 2007, triple negative survivability was 77% instead of 88%. Perhaps in the next 3 to 5 years where I really need to be worried about a recurrence, they will have found or uncovered more treatments to help get me closer to 100% survival, no matter the stage.

This all sounded good. But again it's not fully up to me. There would be tests. That is when the disappointment really set in.  I was being told to disrobe from the waist up and put on the gown.  Ugh!  Really!? And then told after that I would need a blood draw.  NO!!! One appointment. I did manage to avoid the flu shot. He brought it up in the consult, but forgot at the end.

Also, I was told that before they could decide on which chemo to use, they needed to test my heart strength as the red devil will weaken it.  (This is where the type of chemo may not be up to me) So I need an IV dye in my arm. Scheduled for Monday.  A chemo class on Tuesday.  Port "installation" (sounds like a cable company) on Wednesday. I then meet with the oncologist again on Thursday, have a chest xray on Friday and another blood test on the following Monday. Oh and let's not forget the counselor appointment on the 8th.  And chemo hasn't even begun....Blah!

I disrobe and he returns to do an exam, check my breathing and etc. He asks my mother if I've always been like this. I assume he means the incessant rambling. She confirms that it is true, I'm a jabber jaw.

Then I'm dressed again and being thrown booklets, brochures, and more paperwork than I know what to do with. Including freezing eggs as the aggressive chemo will likely make me infertile.  However, it doesn't really matter. We can't afford that procedure anyway and my insurance doesn't cover enough to make it affordable.

Then the patient navigator comes in and goes over the "Angel Foundation". It's all things for my daughter and helping her cope. Counseling, classes, dolls, markers, and even the possibility of tickets to ice capades and a free summer camp of some kind.

I did get a pink pillow for my port to place between my port and the seat belt, but I explained that the pink pillow would likely be commandeered by my four year old, so she retrieved a more "boring" pillow and stuffed the pink one in the blue little back pack they brought out with the rest of her things.

I found I can even attend a make up class and get some free cosmetics in the process. I love make up, even though I don't wear it often.

We left with even more paperwork and the string of appointments scheduled and headed to Cowboy Jack's for a quick bite before I picked up my daughter from my mom's. We walked through the door. I laughed and said, here I was trying to find the perfect wig in preparation for the hair loss coming my way and I should have just come here instead. 

Post Op Appointment 10/17/2017

I’m not sure why this post is harder to write than the others so far, but it is. I have started and stopped writing. I have deleted paragraphs and started completely over, as I’m doing right now. I have wept for others and for myself. I have even lost interest in my own writing. I’m all over the map emotionally and I need to pull it together to share the next leg of this journey. I may have lots of time to write in the near future, it all depends on how the next course of treatment affects me.

Yesterday, was it yesterday? It seems longer than that. Anyway, yesterday, I went back to the Breast Center in Maplewood. To my relief, I was in the right building this time, yet it didn’t feel right.  Though, it’s the “new” Breast Center” the office I go to is shared with a vascular office. It makes it slightly confusing and most patients don’t appear to be there for potential breast issues.  Some, sure, but most, no. It would appear vascular or surgical in nature for the most part.

Anyway, I stood in line to check in, still sore from surgery. The office was pretty full at 145 in the afternoon, and there were two or three people in line ahead of me. An overweight, older man, who struggled to breathe points at me with his cane from a chair nearby. He informs me that he was in line in front of me, behind the pregnant lady who now stood next in line. He definitely seemed to need the chair, but it felt a little bit aggressive. I blew it off with a nod and an okay.

I also am waiting in line to wait for an appointment where we will potentially discuss the pathology of my surgery. I'm a ball of nerves. Have been for days. Dreading the results and what horrible news I might get. All the horrible what ifs from the days following the surgery had yet to stop circling my brain. His "aggressiveness" could have been just me being overly sensitive. Though I doubt it.

I stood there alone and nervous and at the same time just wanting this appointment over and done with. My mother is in the building across the street having her own mammogram done.

Since my mother’s appointment was before mine I had dropped her off and headed over to my building. I was about 45 minutes early and we both assume she would likely be with me before I even went in for my appointment.  I sat down, after having checked in, and waited patiently by playing the Witch Bubble Saga game on my phone. I, as usual, was not doing well. (Once you get past the first 30 levels, it really ups it's game on difficulty..or is it 50 levels? Either way, it's not as easy as it starts out). Just as I was about to lose my last life, (you get 5 ever 22 minutes or so) I was called in by a nurse I had never met before.  And it was ahead of schedule! I guess I was going in alone, but how can I argue with getting in sooner than later?

It wasn’t long before the doctor was in the room examining her handy work from the surgery. Happy with the healing thus far, we moved over to the chairs to discuss the results of the pathology.  (Halfway through my mother arrived and we did a little catch up for her benefit.) 

As I mentioned in a Facebook post, there was good news and bad news. They did, in fact, remove all of the cancer. Even the 8 millimeters of invasive cancer that had gotten out of the milk ducts, they had removed. I’m guessing (without the pathology report in hand) this would be what they call "the margins". No cancer in the margins. No cancer in the lymph nodes they removed either. Clean bill of health.  But before you put on your dancing shoes and that party dress, I was reminded that I was young (shut up...young for breast cancer), that I had triple negative receptors, and a portion had gotten out of the ducts. I will not be avoiding chemo or radiation. I will have to do both.

I will have a port installed, like cable, on November 1. I meet with the oncologist sometime next week to discuss the course of treatment.  To my horror, I just now learned that a port doesn't mean you escape pain of needles...so what is the point?  Frustrating, to say the least.

Anyhoo, my first thought, was okay that’s fine. I’ll get to live either way. The Dr said that with or without chemo my prognosis was very, very good, but no doctor that she could think of would NOT recommend chemo because of those other facts.

Then I thought, the wedding. It’s true, the doctor confirmed that I would be lucky to have peach fuzz by May 19^th. (that is an "attractive" picture - peach fuzz...on this mug?) So I will need to go wig shopping and hat shopping and scarf shopping.

Another friend stated he lost a lot of weight on chemo..hmm…so another hopeful bright side.  But the pain, the illness, the hair loss. If I were to lose hair on my legs, arms, arm pits, "face", that all would be well and good, but the idea of losing my eyebrows, eyelashes, and head hair..not good.

But I shan't look a gift horse in the mouth. I won't truly complain about this outcome, especially considering what it could have been. I guess, what it still could be down the road, but hopefully not. However, I will remain scared of the procedures, chemo, radiation, and needles.  

A little "before" chemo picture, to see how my hair changes when it grows back. Like how much will be silver? I don't actively dye my hair, but maybe more than I have now will come back that silver color?  If it is a lot, I will likely be at the salon a lot more than I am now.

Surgery 1 Down - Hopefully The Last One To Go

It was a cool night in the garage on Tuesday. As I sat there amongst friends, I tried not to think about the next day and what was going to happen. I had this strange fear of not waking up from the surgery due to some unknown allergic reaction to the anesthesia or something else gone wrong. Very much not realistic, I'm sure. I get that. The panic resumes, so friends and family being there gave me a great distraction.

We went to bed early that night. A restless sleep. We had to be up bright and early and I wanted to shower. My favorite prima stayed the night too, but drove separately to the hospital. My step mom arrived before us. I had a great support team with them, including my wonderful fiance. I was anxious when we arrived 10 minutes late to The Breast Center and it didn't take much to unravel when we discovered were at the wrong building. I was rude and childish and knew it. In the parking lot, I apologized to the others for ranting and it only took moments for us to get where we needed to be. After receiving a wonderful present from my sisters and step mom I was whisked away to another room. I had to leave Kevin behind when I tried to take him with. I wasn't anticipating that. I began to panic more as he offers comfort to me more than anyone else.

The staff was beyond friendly and soothing, but I really needed him. They all independently told me I was in excellent hands with my surgeon. Can't argue with 28 years of experience and most of that breast surgeries. After changing out of my top and into a hospital "shirt" that kind of choked me a tad, I was led to a room with one medical chair that had a high back. I was seated and prepped for a dye that would be inserted into the right breast with a <gulp> needle. Though I had been warned about the potential for stinging pain from the "medicine" they called it, I was assured that it wasn't as bad as a hornet's sting. Sadly, I've never been stung by a hornet. Reminiscent of the biopsy which was compared to dental needles and in that circumstance I also realized, I had no true experience with dental needles, so no basis of comparison. I only had one said injection and I never felt it because the dentist was a magician. However, based on my memory, I do know that he wiggled his hand around quite a bit, so I should have realized with the Radiologist meant by that comparison. And in this case, I have been stung by a ground bee once (and only once...some people might get that humor). And perhaps again, I should have realized when she gave me the comparison, that it's not the initial sting, but rather the burning that never quits for 8 hours. So in hindsight, not as bad as a hornet or ground bee.

When I'm scared (generally before a surgery) everything seems to hurt more. The needle went in (I thought) and it wasn't too bad, but then I felt the needle more or was it the stinging of the medicine or dye. I squeezed the sides of the chair and cried out quietly. I couldn't wait for that to be over as I knew I still had at least one more needle coming for the IV. The burning didn't last long, yet the tears were still flowing. Once more they oozed sweetness, but real sugar not fake.

I was then led over to the building next door while they showed my entourage where to move their cars to get closer to the new building. The newest nurse or front desk person took me through an underground hallway that undergoing some kind of construction, but I had my fancy hospital robe and my own pajama pants to made me feel a little more secure and I avoided walking under any ladders. I'm fairly superstitious.

I then sat in front of another reception desk while I waited for her to finish up with another patient and waited for the others to join me. More paperwork followed. We were then led to a much smaller and private waiting room (also seemingly under construction) and once more waited for a new nurse to lead me to the next part of the procedure. She arrived about a half an hour or so later and collected me while moving my family back out into the big waiting room.  Another patient would soon be taking my place in the private one. That's fine the thing that looked like a fridge, wasn't.  Just a tease. I grew more and more parched.

Se led me into a bathroom, which sat inside what felt like a utility room that contained lockers and couple of offices...(construction everywhere) and changed my clothes per her directions. And then the fun part, I saw a plastic cup with a lid (seriously? okay). It was a miracle considering I had nothing to eat or drink since midnight and it was roughly 900 AM at this point. Once I was dressed in new clothes -- no pants, no robe, but a longer gown that closed in the back?  Huh? This confused me a little bit considering where the operation was taking place. Then they showed me how the front opened with snaps for the surgery. Okay, that makes sense. I was also gifted nifty socks that I wouldn't slip in. It brought me back to when I was in the hospital having Melina. Lots of those socks.

They took me back to another room where they finally put the IV in. Another painful adventure. The numbing solution was another one of those stinging solutions and hurt quite a bit. Normally needles don't bother me, but again the fear made the pain worse. After the IV was inserted and for the second time I was told the needle wasn't in there anymore, as if it would hurt less. It's a much bigger plastic tube in my vein...a thin needle sounded less painful.  Anyway, I digress, she went back to get Kevin and I couldn't stop the tears. No sobbing, just tears rolling down my cheeks. I was so scared. I was looking forward to having the doctor come in and knock me out. I couldn't take thinking about it anymore.

Kevin stroked my hair and we just sat in silence for awhile. After watching blood boiling news, we switched and my step mom sat in for the rest of the time. We chatted and watched news and held hands. I tried to keep the tears at bay. Easier said than done.

Finally, it was time. The Anesthesiologist's nurse came in and put some concoction into the IV (Oh I did have to go to the bathroom at some point as I didn't go from 900 til this point around 1130 and I didn't want to wet the operating table). She attached the vile and then put my hair up in a cap, then wheeled me back after I said good bye to my step mom. I was brought into the operating room and I helped them as I scooted over onto another table. Something else was attached to the IV and the nurse told me for the second time that I would sleep and she would be there the whole time.  Like one of my previous nights out on the town...it got hazy and I only remember waking up to someone calling my name. Wait...that last part of the sentence is not part of the drinking nights...I just realized what that sounded like. I simply meant that...

Ah forget it, let's move on. Once I was fully awake I was ready to high tail it out of there, but there were still things I needed to do and they wanted to make sure I wasn't dizzy.  I was determined to leave as soon as possible and eat a ton of food. I was starving.  It was almost 200 or thereabouts. I, like my grandmother after her mastectomy at the age of 80 was ready to go bowling that same Sunday and swung her arm around, but I was ready to sit out for lunch in my pjs. Both ideas were a no go.  My Aunt quickly stopped my grandmother from risking ripping her stitches and my family put the kabosh on lunch and a cocktail. Party poopers.  To bed I was to go. The lovely post op nurse gave me a hug before I left for my chariot with Kevin. Char headed home and Maria headed to her kiddos.

The news from the Doctor came to the entourage before I was awake. They took one lymph node for a biopsy and it looked a little bumpy and swollen but nothing terribly worrisome and they took the lump, but they really won't know until the pathology comes back to be sure if it spread or not. I guess I'm waiting to hear. Another node seemed spongy but not to the point where she felt the need to remove. At least not now. I believe radiation will be next, but again, pathology could change our course for the worse or for the better. I'll keep you posted.

Surgery Up Next - Breast Cancer

It's been a long week. A tiring week.  Last night was the worst for me, to date. I'm not sure if it was the contrast of such a wonderful weekend, that led up to last night and caused reality to crash back down onto me. Or maybe, it's just the impending surgery and the fear that is slowly creeping into my heart.

I can't remember which day it was, but I had grown impatient waiting for the MRI results.  I called after a day of waiting and miraculously the surgeon called me back, without much delay. She didn't seem to have terribly bad news, but it also felt like no news. My impatience returned when I realized we didn't know much more than before. 

She did state that the lump was bigger than they suspected, but nothing "huge" and that there a prominent lymph node, but again, nothing too worrisome, other than the suspicion of it moving out of the ducts. The part that perplexed me was the next part where she said it was up to me if I do nothing, opt for a lumpectomy, or possibly more. I was at a loss for words.

How on earth was I to make this decision?  I'm not a doctor. And I'm too close to it to make the decision that is actually best for me. I hesitated and she picked up on it. She brought up the aspect of my hesitation as her reason for suggesting a lumpectomy.  I also told her that I wanted her advice.  Given the choice, it was too big. Too scary. 

We talked though it and decided on a lumpectomy this Wednesday. The closer it gets, the more scared I am. I feel sick to my stomach. I'm afraid of what "it's" going to look like afterwards, but I'm afraid of the injection of dye before the surgery and how much that will hurt. This doesn't mean I won't need a mastectomy or even a bi-lateral down the road.  It definitely doesn't mean I won't need chemo or radiation either.

With all this in my head, it really isn't taking long or much for people to piss me off or for me to see the insensitivity of some people. I want to let all of them have it, and some I kind of have, but then I get mad at myself because I back down. I even check with my wonderful fiance when I get mad.  "Am I nuts or is that totally mean and messed up that this person did this?" And he would honestly agree that it was and I have every right to be upset. So why, in the position I now find myself in, do I continue to let people push me around?

All I can do is try harder. Try to stand up for myself and if someone wants to turn it back on me and make me feel bad, they don't need to be in my life anymore. See...I'm still seething from this weekend. Maybe it's better than being sad and depressed. It's a very extreme reaction but I just don't want complicated right now. Everything else is so immensely complicated.

The Treatment Plan and More Waiting... - Breast Cancer

I feel like my heart is racing while I sit at my desk watching the time tick by before I meet with my Breast Cancer surgeon. I'm scared to death of everything right now. I feel like I'm sweating, but I'm not. I feel like I can't breathe, but I am.

Part of me wants to leave sooner, so I can get to my mom's sooner, so I can relax before we head out. I'm also predicting a slight competition on the note taking. The only way I can really follow what's going on, in general, is to take notes.  However, I want us both (my mom and myself, if not even my cousin Maria), to be taking notes as well.

My fiance will be at home waiting for a call and I will not go home until he deal with the other fear of mine. There is a giant bee or wasp in our house.  How that rat bastard got in the house in the first place perplexes me... (UPDATE: he got the WASP trying to hide in my black tennis shoe..that would not have been pleasant to find while trying to put on my shoes to workout.  Okay, who are we kidding, the risk wasn't high).

Okay, back on topic.

Flashing forward now. I left work full of anxiety and met my mom and my cousin Maria and we prepared to meet the Surgeon to discuss the results of the biopsy further as well as what was to come. The first fun thing to happen was upon our entry into the brand new breast center in Maplewood. This center had apparently opened that very day.  Immediately upon entering a woman approached us to help direct us. She quickly tried to redirect us to St. John's because the breast center WASN'T opened yet. I was very confused and read off the address and suite I was given.

She then matched my look of confusion and took on one of panic. "I think I might have just sent someone to the wrong place." I sighed in relief and then told her not to worry, she would be back.

I proceed upstairs with my "entourage" and check in for my appointment. Can I ask why I must be weighed every single time I go to the doctor?  This is not good for my self esteem.

A nurse comes out very shortly and calls my name and leads us on a little jaunt to a brand new exam room and takes down information. The standard information that you give. (I was fortunate enough to fill out the questionnaire online, so I didn't have to do this when I got there). She departs after instructing me to undress from the waist up and and put on a gown. I need to keep reminding my cousin Maria not to peek.

Within moments the doctor is back in the room and does a brief exam of both just to get an idea herself and she feels it. We were given so much information during that consultation it would make you head spin. My mom wrote furiously and apparently Maria just remembered everything. At first I knew most of everything she was saying and then after the preliminary came the detail.

The long and short of it is many whatifs.  First, I need to have an MRI done and a genetic test for the breast cancer gene since I'm young and there really isn't family link. Yes, my grandmother and great grandmother, but since no one else in the family has had this issue as of yet, and my grandmothers were much older when diagnosed, it didn't play into genetics in their opinion. (Most likely Melina will need to have mammograms at 29 years of age.)

If the MRI didn't show that the cancer has moved out of the ducts and into other tissue, then she would most definitely scheduling a surgery.  Hopefully it will be a lumpectomy. Then we can get the FULL pathology from the core biopsy already done and discuss next steps.  However, all three of us  got the distinct impression that the Doctor would be very surprised if it hadn't become invasive because NORMALLY with my type of cancer you wouldn't feel the lump before it had become invasive. If it has, we also had the impression that we would be looking at a different type of surgery, mastectomy. And finally, there is the real possibility that if the gene test shows a mutation then a bi-lateral (double) mastectomy could be the answer.  This would happen because the chances of the other breast developing cancer becomes very high. I'm really okay with that. I want to be around to see my daughter's kids and I'm not that invested in my breasts that I would choose them over a life with her. Though they are pretty awesome, strangely the right one has begun to feel foreign on my body. (The only time I agree with the current administration on dealing with foreigners, is in this very specific moment....get out!)

The Doctor was knowledgeable and honest and even had insight into my brother's cancer and said things that his doctors refused to say when they should have. There wasn't much that would have saved Jake.  That was the reality.

She left the room and another nurse arrived to schedule the MRI. Another wonderful thing, radiology wanted to schedule the MRI for the 16th! All three of us looked at her and immediately she told them that they needed to squeeze me in before that. So 800 am this morning it was. I was relieved. If it hasn't moved, I don't want to give it three weeks to do so.

I left feeling a little better. Especially since the Doctor had said that the best "worst" case scenario would be fake boobs and wig by the time of my wedding.  I can definitely live with that. Not to mention I'm trying on dresses this Saturday, so I shouldn't have to worry about the dress looking too different.

Now, I sit here at home after a very long day trying to process everything. More waiting now as I wait for the Doctor to review the MRI and tell me what she found and when the surgery will be.  Again, I'm fairly confident that no matter what, I'm having surgery next week along with a sentinel biopsy on a lymph node. Luckily I will be unconscious for, seeing how the biopsy I already experienced was not pleasant and another not painless IV today during the MRI. Not to mention an MRI where I felt like I was on a milking machine. It's not easy to explain by any means.

I was on my stomach, raised, with my "boobs" in two holes. After being squeezed into the tube (since there is less room in this particular MRI) I laid there for 20 minutes or more until they finally released the dye and another 20 minutes or more. I felt the powerful magnet numerous times on my low back and worried about what that might doing to my body. I tried not to cough or move, but every time it started up again and the magnet pulsated on my bum, I jerked a bit. (and not in a good way)

An hour or more later I almost jumped for joy in the tube when I heard a door open. I knew this nightmare was almost over and just before claustrophobia set in.

We then headed over to the Genetic testing, but went to the wrong floor and wrong place. Back down one more floor (and I was kind of dizzy after the MRI) and finally found the cancer wing.  This was a hard place to be. It scared me and broke my heart all at the same time to see those people coming in for a chemo treatment. I calmed myself and thought I'm here for a blood draw and then we can leave and eat.

The genetic testing lady came and retrieved me and I left behind my mom and Maria in the waiting room.  Can't go anywhere without my entourage, you know. As soon as we sit down, (a student is also there) I realize pretty quickly this isn't just a blood draw. This will be another hour or more of information and family history before the test.

When I've given all the details I know I get my mom and Maria so they wouldn't worry and they join me for the rest of the meeting. I had at this point decided against the blood draw but the saliva test.  You know when they swab your with a Q-Tip, like on all the cop shows, and your done....NOPE.  You have to repeatedly spit (gross) into a tube until it's full. My mouth was already dry. Fun times.

But here I am, exhausted emotionally and physically. My wonderful fiance will be collecting my daughter and I can rest, after I take care of this and FMLA paperwork that is.  I apologize for the writing today. I didn't have the time to be overly creative. But while in the genetic meeting I did find the opportunity / window to plug my book and give away a business card.  That's what you get for seeing my email address and asking if I'm a writer.

Hurry Up and Wait is the Game...but For Now the Waiting Can Wait - Breast Cancer

Waiting…waiting…waiting. Everyday has been waiting…waiting…waiting. One of the first things people told me has been that the waiting would be the worst. They weren’t kidding. All of the things I’m learning. I’m discovering what so many women, or people in general, must have felt when they were diagnosed with any kind of cancer.

The panic.  Ever ache and pain creates an immense panic that I immediately try to tamp down because that could be counterproductive to my health, as well. My arm has hurt since before I found this lump, is this related or is this not? And, if it’s not, is this a whole new separate cancer?  My stomach has had shooting pains before I found the lump. After numerous blood tests and scans, they found nothing, not as far as the gall bladder was concerned anyhow. Same questions apply.

Waiting…waiting…waiting. Should we be waiting like this? If there is suspicion of this thing trying to move, wouldn’t we want to get started all the more sooner? I realize that there are women in worse shape than me and the urgent scheduling of appointments are most likely reserved for those women.  I understand. But I can’t help but to think selfishly and want to get in there and get this going.

There is talk about procedure and process.  First, you do this and then you do that. I get it, I’m not doctor, not even close.  If you don’t’ have to lose the breast, then why would you want to? I guess because I would hate to find out too late that we in fact cannot save the breast and because we didn’t take it right away, now it’s spread out of control. Once again, all of this is continuously rolling around in my head 24/7. I’m wondering if waiting a week for the consultation after the diagnosis will give this cancer too much time to grow. I would rather just have them both (my breasts) gone and get upgrades.

I have these wonderful moments, when I’m dreaming, and this isn’t my life. For a few minutes when I first wake up—before I open my eyes, I forget that this is my life.  There are other moments when I’m interacting with people and it’s easy to push it to the back of my mind, even though it’s still there.  And, there are other moments where I can’t stop thinking about it.

Before I get too far into the sad parts of all of this, one piece of good news came today. I decided to call the Doctor and check to see if there were any cancellations.  Indeed there were.  I am now going in tomorrow at 1:00 p.m., instead of waiting until Friday.  I will spend the evening compiling a list of questions. As if I haven’t been thinking of them this whole time though, right?

The Diagnosis - Breast Cancer

Well, things didn't go as I had planned. I received a call, fin...let me back this up actually.  I was told I would hear on Wednesday.  All day I sat at my desk waiting for my work phone to ring. When I left my desk I would take my cell phone with me. The call never came. Every half an hour that passed I would cross that time off my personal calendar.

I sat there (I had to work an hour late to make up time from the biopsy appointment) at my desk staring at the clock on my computer, realizing it was now 5:00 p.m. and most doctor offices were now closed. I felt perplexed.  All day people felt it was a good sign that I hadn't heard yet. It wasn't an urgent issue for them, they believed. I started to believe it too. Now, as I sat there looking at the time turn to 5:01, I wondered, why would they promise to call me no matter what and not?

I picked up my desk phone and called the number on the form that radiology gave me.  Someone answered!!!!!!!  Hallelujah!

"I had a biopsy there on Monday and was told I would hear by today and no one has called me." Instant dejection when her response was, "Your primary doctor will be the one to call you."

She asked me my date of birth and spelling of my last name as she clicked and clacked on the keyboard of her computer to see if the test results had yet been sent. Turned out, they had. To both my OB (who did the initial exam) and my GP (who wasn't involved at all).

I felt desperate and angry. I left emails for both offices since they were closed.

The next morning, I sat at my desk, checked my emails and my medical chart online. No responses and no voice mails. Once more I picked up my phone, before 800 and left a voicemail with the triage nurseline at my OB's office.

Two more hours pass by and still nothing.  This time I called my GP's number and left a message with reception to call me. Hope began to well up in me that if they weren't calling me, it had to be nothing. Wrong.

My phone finally rang and I picked up it expectantly. She said, Hi Karen, this is so and so.  Blah and blah and blah and unfortunately....my heart sank.

It didn't hit me until I started taking notes on the cancer type and other things. While it was a very common, possibly the most common breast cancer and an "early" cancer, the Grade and receptor status weren't.  It began to feel fear like I never had in my entire life.  That was when the tears began to roll and I couldn't speak without choking up. Inside, I'm begging for someone to tell me that it will be fine and I won't die, outside I'm asking this nurse if I'm going to die, but of course I know she can't answer that question. No one can.

I picture my brother, his face contorted in fear and grief as he lay in his hospice bed, crying. I'm panicked and desperate.  I just want to go home. I don't want to talk to anyone or do anything, but I have to get connected with Occupational Health because there will be appointments that I need covered by FMLA. I'm thinking all of this as I continue to write and ask questions that I have already forgotten. My appointment with the doctor is October 6th, unless someone cancels and I can get in sooner. I may just meet with her or the Oncologist first or something like that.  It's all wing dings to me. (computer nerds should get that). So here I go.  No scary made up stories of a killer on the loose in the woods. I guess this will be the blog for now, a scary story of a very real tiny monster on the loose inside of me.

Wish me luck.

Where am I? Where am I going? - Breast Cancer

I laid on the hospital bed in radiology. One breast partially exposed, with the towel draped over a portion of it. The same towel that was used to mop up the excess ultrasound gel. One hand feverishly wiped at tears as I registered the news that the ultra sound tech had just delivered and the other hand lamely tried to keep the gown from falling open. Futile as it was considering I had been exposed already. The nurse had been out of the room now for 15 minutes at this point and I thought I could wait it out for the doctor to come in for his turn to take a look for himself, but I couldn’t. I thought of my brother, who just passed away.  Then I thought about my daughter.  What would happen to her if I died from cancer?  From Breast Cancer.

I chastised myself for crying and the fact that I had no real answers at this point.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed/table and reached to grab my phone from my purse. People were waiting to hear how it went. Not only would they want an update, but I felt the urge or need to reach out and not be alone, like I felt in that moment.

As I sent the final message to my fiancé the doctor finally knocked. Then back to the table so he could do another ultra sound. This time I was shown what they were looking at and what gave them cause for concern. Something about tiny dots and a black empty void (which is actually the problem area).  He also stated that it’s not the typical benign picture he would see when looking at mammograms and ultrasounds. More tears began to flow as soon as he said, "We will do a biopsy," and they were going to do it right then and there, if it worked with my schedule. How could it not? Why would I chance it and wait? After going through this with Jake, I realized that every second counted. He didn't think much about the bump on his back. It's not his fault, most of us probably would wait it out, but I learned not to wait it out. If it is cancer and it's aggressive, I need to be aggressive first.

I began to blubber about my brother to them and immediately felt embarrassed, but I couldn't stop the tears and the sobbing. I wanted to know survival rates because I felt like the doctors consistently evaded that question with Jake until it spread to his brain. This blubbering was followed by apologizing for blubbering, but the doctor and the tech never batted an eye and only offer comfort, the best they could. Once again, I’m left alone in the room while I send more messages to family and friends. Luckily, this time the tech is in and out of the room, setting up for the biopsy they are about to do, which doesn’t sound like something I’m going to enjoy. I’ve never had a biopsy before, but I ask if it will hurt. The Dr., before he left the room, compared it to a dental appointment. In hindsight, had I fully grasped that comparison, I would have been much more afraid of the anesthesia.

Before they begin, they have me a sign a form stating that they explained to me what they were going to do, which they did. I then laid back on the table. I closed my eyes, after the towels and drape were placed, and kept nervously moving my feet as they continued to prep me for a needle to puncture my right breast and numb the area. (Couldn’t they give me something to numb me from the numbing procedure?) It did not feel pleasant. It was painful. A couple of times sharp pain would hit, and the rest of the time strong pressure. I felt like the pain may have been worse because I was so afraid of the unknown. I wondered if I was more sensitive to the pain due to my hyper focus. Once numbed, the Dr. spoke of a clicking noise that might startle me when he actually took the samples.  Four to be exact. Then he went back to leave behind a marker clip. This marker would let them know where the biopsy had occurred. I cringed many times throughout and held my breath. When it was finally over, I could breathe again.

By that point, my breast had been pulled, squished, pushed on, and poked and prodded and now I was going to be going back to squishing after they glued my incision shut. This time they wanted to verify the clip was in place. And for some reason I needed to pee twice in an hour, which was odd. I made a few dumb jokes when given an ice pack. Something like, well it is the smaller of the two breasts, so the ice pack will fit just fine in the bra. (insert eye roll here). And another joke of the size of that breast and it really couldn't afford to take any more hits. (For those unaware, most women's breast are not symmetrical.)

After all of this, I get back to work after having finished my lunch and I’m exhausted.  I want to take a nap, but before the tiredness sank in, I took 3 ibuprofen because of the most horrid pain that coursed through me.  They didn’t really warn me about how bad that would feel.  Everyone is different, but man it hurt all the way to the other side, where they didn’t even go. My plan was to go right to bed after I hugged my baby and my fiancé, because I can’t let myself think about all the bad possibilities that might come out of this. Not today at least. And of course I still need to wait for the results. I'm hoping I end this story with good news.

Girls' Trip - The End

Sarah gasped to catch her breath after being jerked backwards by the hair. She instinctively reached up to rub at the wounded area, but winced when the barrel of the gun pushed into the side of her head.

“Now, everyone why don’t we all sit down and have a little conversation about what is going to happen next. First of all—, “ his head whipped in the direction of the sound of the back door being opened. The eyes of all four women filled with the hope of being rescued.

“Hey, did I miss anything?” Another man sauntered in with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes that instantly caused a wave of nausea to pass over Sarah.

“Did you get everything?” The man with the gun spoke.  Both of the men ignored the women and the hope that disappeared from their faces.

“Yep, and I finished moving their cars just like T asked, I think we're all set. It'll take awhile before anything is found.”

“Great! So -- where were we--"

“What do you want? You can have all of our money and we won’t tell anyone,” Dot interrupted. The man with the gun looked at each woman carefully. He eyes roamed over Dot, Melinda, and Sarah.  After staring directly into Terry’s eyes, he nodded to the newcomer. 

A loud crack tore through the cabin and all four women jumped as the newcomer immediately pulled his arm back and struck Dot across the face. 

Dot, fell over, grunting. She pushed her self up sobbing quietly and gently cradled her cheek in her hand. A small river of blood began to run from the side of her mouth.

“Now, where was I?” Once more, Sarah noticed the man with the gun look at Terry, and this time he smirked. 

Terry said she thought she might have known him. 

Sarah suspected they did in fact know each other, and what was going on now, was why she fled the bar. 

Did they date? Did he stalk her? For how long did she know him? Is he going to punish her by killing all of us? Or worse? What happened between them that led to this? He's probably just nuts, like those characters on Criminal Minds, or real life psychos like on Forensic Files.

A loud sigh interrupted her thoughts. She looked right into his eyes. They didn't really reflect any emotion, perhaps annoyance or boredom, Sarah thought.

“You know, maybe I should just skip story telling time and we’ll get this party started,” He stood up and grabbed Terry roughly by the arm, yanking her behind him toward the other room. She limped in her attempt to follow him, her foot still bleeding. She whimpered and cried out.

As Melinda, Dot, and Sarah sobbed, begged, and reached out to help their friend, Terry also cried and begged to be turned loose. They pleas did not go ignored.

“Get it together! You’ll all have your turn,” the newcomer oozed. He then produced a gun from the back of his pants.

Sarah knew that her and her three friends were in the biggest trouble they had ever been in all their lives. For the second time that evening, Sarah, Melinda, and Dot huddled close together, as the man with a gun, the stranger from the bar, dragged a slobbering, screaming Terry to the middle bedroom and the newcomer guarded them from escape.

After 20 minutes of silence from not only their room, but from the room where Terry was held, Melinda finally built up the nerve to speak.

“Who are these guys?” Melinda whispered. Dot fearfully looked at the newcomer waiting to see what would happen when Melinda spoke. He had no reaction.

“The guy I told you about earlier. It's the same guy from the bar.  Terry said she thought she knew him and then said it wasn’t him. Clearly it was, but why wouldn’t she tell us?”

“I don’t remember her ever mentioning this guy? Do you guys?” Dot added.

“No,” Melinda and Sarah spoke at the same time.

“Not before tonight, when we saw him at the bar." Sarah leaned in closer, "And who is this T person they mentioned? When will he get here?” 

“SHUT UP!” The newcomer shouted.

Sarah’s stomach swirled in fear and she wondered what was happening with Terry. Why hadn’t she screamed out this whole time? Was she dead?

They all looked up when the bedroom door creaked open slowly.  The newcomer turned his back to speak with the stranger from the bar. Sarah became jittery and watched them closely. As he inched closer to the other room, Sarah whispered, “I might try to run for help, it’s our only shot. If we have a shot.” The other two hesitantly nodded.

He took another step as the two men spoke in low voices. His body stood halfway in each room. She braced herself, her muscles tense.  One more step in and she knew she might have a shot, or they would.

The newcomer leaned an inch further into the room to look at something and Sarah pounced. She hit the door and barreled through it.  Screams from her friends chased after her, but she couldn’t determine if it was screams of pain or encouragement. Then one of the men yelled out “T!!!!!!!!!!” at the top of his lungs. That one could understand, he was calling for back up.

She didn’t want to stop to look around for the third mystery man, she had to get help. She flew down the porch steps and onto the black top sidewalk path that led back to the bar. She just needed to be faster than "T" and hopefully faster than anyone else that would try to hurt them.

She was only a mere 50 outside the cabin when she heard a snap in the darkness, like the branch of a tree. She slowed her run, her heart racing.

“Sarah!” A familiar female voice called out to her from the darkness. 

Now she merely walked quickly as she looked ahead of her, seeking out where the voice came from. Was that from the trees? She glanced to the left, but didn't see anything, at first.

Sarah’s eyes squinted, trying to see in the dark in the hopes of making out the figure that now presented itself to her.

“Terry, is that you? How did you ---" She stopped her approach to Terry and took one step back. “---get away?” Her voice drifted because she already had the answer. Based on the Terry's reply, her face must have given it away as well.

“Yeah, I know.” Terry emerged from the trees with a gun of her own, blocking Sarah's path to freedom.

Sarah's mouth fell open and her heart sank deep into her swirling stomach. She could think of nothing more to say, except to ask one question.

“Why Terry!?” a single tear rolled down her cheek. Sarah never flinched when the stranger from the bar snuck up behind her, wrapped both arms around her middle, arms included, and pulled her backward, slowly. She continued to look at the woman who used to be her friend, waiting for an answer.

“Why not? Now the party is a surprise party. Surprise!” Terry winked at her and threw her head back in laughter, as the stranger from the bar pulled her back to the cabin without any further fight from Sarah. 

The hope that had faded from her face an hour ago, now seeped out from every last pore in that moment, as she knew it would be her last.

Girls' Trip - A Party for One - Part VI

Her hurried steps forced the other two girls to pick up their pace. Sarah continued to check her phone and with each moment that passed with no further replies from Terry, the faster she walked. It was now completely dark and the music boomed behind them, but grew fainter with each step into the darkness, and the sound of the crickets became louder.

She rubbed her arms after shoving her phone in back pocket. It wasn’t cold, but the hair on her arms began to stand up. She finally saw their cabin at the far end of the beach as they approached the finally stretch of their walk. A faint glow of light peered into the night and pointed them in the right direction. She chewed her lip, nervously.

What should have brought her comfort did not. Sarah huffed and puffed and panted. Her legs moved swiftly. Dot and Melinda were calling her name from behind her trying to keep up. The sand seemed to tug at her feet, slowing her down. It felt as if tiny hands pulled at the sparkly sandals she wore, slowing her speed and sand filled the empty space between her feet and the sole of the shoe.

Her pace completely altered once more. Sarah walked but more slowly than before. Melinda and Dot caught up to her. Sarah lunged forward and teetered on her toes, arms flailing, trying to keep her balance when Dot literally bumped into her back due to her abrupt stop.

“Shhh!” she held a finger to her lips, unfazed by the near fall.  The other two looked at each other, confused.

“What are we listening for?” Melinda whispered. No response spilled forth, just Sarah tilting her head.

“You are freaking us out, Sarah! What are we listening for?”

“The crickets. They stopped. Isn’t that odd?” Her head pointed toward the back of the cabin, which faced the lake, yet her eyes glazed as if staring at nothing.

All three jumped. A blood-curdling scream broke into the night from the direction of their cabin. They clung to each other tightly and took a few steps back before deciding what to do next.

“Was that Terry?” Dot’s teethed chattered loudly. In the tight huddle they found themselves in their hearts thundered loudly on the verge of exploding from their chests.

“It’s us three against whoever is in there right? Let’s go!” Melinda said with faltered confidence, slightly edging ahead of the trio.

“NO!” Sarah grabbed her. “We should call the police! What if he has a gun? We can’t fight against a gun.”

They clutched at each other once more, as another scream pierced through the night air. This time the sound of breaking glassed followed.

“Screw this!” Melinda began to charge toward the cabin and Dot and Sarah followed with fear on their faces. 

The wind seemed to pick up the closer they came to the cabin. It sunk into their skin deep, into their bones. She stretched out her arm and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the door. As she pulled it towards herself, another shatter of glass exploded inside the cabin.

Melinda yanked the door open the rest of the way and flew into the cabin. The front screen door on the opposite side of the cabin, clattered shut and a shadow crossed in front of the light outside it.

Their eyes searched as they called her name.

Sarah tugged on Dot’s arm and nodded towards the floor. A dark red liquid spilled out everywhere in the kitchen, and Terry had yet to reply to their calls. Besides the pool on the floor, the same red mess, dripped down the counter top and over the side. It didn’t look like blood until their wide eyes followed the entire trail.

A broken glass sat on the counter, which struck Sarah as odd. It most likely broke on the floor, so why pick up the pieces after a struggle? The red liquid was lighter in color in the kitchen, but the three sets of eyes followed the line of red liquid into the next room toward the back door. Footprints were the culprit in creating the trail.  A darker red color that actually resembled blood led towards the front door that had just shut moments ago.

“Terry!” a hoarse shaky whisper escaped Sarah’s lips. Clutching to each other, while trying to side step “the blood”, they moved forward looking for their fourth friend.

They all three halted as the wooden steps outside the front door, creaked. All three women shared a chorus of shudders. The shadow returned and they took a step back for the second time that night.

“This was a mistake…we are all going to die!” Sarah whispered loudly.

The door flew open and a shared sigh released into the tiny log cabin, as all three women saw Terry with a small bag in her hand.

“Are you okay? Is that blood!?”

Terry furrowed her brow in confusion and follow the three pair of eyes down the front of her shirt.

“Oh no!” she began laughing.  “I was trying to make a bloody mary. It ended in disaster and I cut my foot, so..yeah, I guess there is some blood. I just went to the car to get my first aid kit.”

“Oh thank God!” Dot whispered under her breath. “Can we go back now?”

“You guys came back to check on me?” Terry paused and then an understanding suddenly registered on her face. “I forgot to call you. God, I’m so sorry!”

She sat on the bed to examine her foot near the beside lamp. As she picked out a tiny shard of glass with a tweezer from the kit, Sarah sat next to her on the bed. The other two were at the door she just walked through, looking out nervously.  They whispered back and forth about the car keys and leaving things behind.

“What’s going on?” Terry asked. Blood dripped from the fingers that held the tiny clear dagger.

“You didn’t, text me or call me?” Sarah asked as she simultaneously helped bandage her wounded friend’s foot.  Terry shook her head in response, and Sarah stood up, gently pulling Terry with her. Sarah looked over at Melinda and Dot. They both nodded at the same time and slowly opened the door again and began to push Terry toward the door.

However, before anyone could take one step over the threshold of the door, Sarah yelped. The rest stopped to look. A man had Sarah. He in fact, had a gun, and a hand in Sarah’s hair.

“The party’s just starting ladies.” The stranger from the bar said.

Girls' Trip - The Song and Dance - Part V

Sarah spent the next twenty minutes shifting nervously in her chair at the table, and glancing at her phone every couple of minutes.  She chewed at her nails, then drummed them on the table, then chewed on them again. She immediately wiped at her mouth and took a gulp of her drink. She stared at the dirty table in disgust. She huffed then popped up from her chair, heading straight towards the lobby phone still in hand. 

Something feels off. She probably forgot, but why do I have this horrible feeling?

Just as she exited the noisy crowd and emerged into the practically empty foyer, her phone dinged. A text! Thank God!

I’M BACK! SAFE AND SOUND. NO NEED TO LEAVE THE BAR WITH A SEARCH PARTY.

She smirked at the response, until she realized that she had just left the bar at that very moment. She shook off the goosebumps.  We’ve known each other for years, she just knows me really well or it's merely a coincidence. However, for the for the millionth time that night, a sinking feeling loomed over her.

Sarah tugged at her lip and her eyes settled on her two remaining friends who were now up on stage and belting out an 80s song. The crowd was loving it. Both women were talented and had a knack of picking the songs that revved up the audience. The bar, comprised mostly of men, were cheering, standing up, and singing along with Melinda and Dot. Those two crazy ladies were dancing. They even managed to flirt with with their eyes and their hips. All eyes were on them. Almost all eyes.

She felt her cheeks stain red. She felt eyes on her. Back in the bar at the original table where Terry and Sarah had first spied him, was the guy Terry claimed she didn’t know. Once more he was staring in her direction. She hurriedly walked back inside and sat at her table in the midst of the crowd, buried under the men standing all around her. Hidden from his prying eyes. She knew that Terry had in fact lied to her in that moment. She knew it in her gut.

Sarah didn’t even realize she had held her breath until it whooshed out of her. The end of Melinda and Dot's performance and the ferocious chorus of clapping, pulled her of the trance she had succumbed to. As she looked up at their smiling faces, she simultaneously hopped out of her chair. His table sat empty once more, and the sight of Melinda and Dot reminded her instantly of their other friend, Terry.  With the mysterious creeper having made yet another weird appearance, she feared for her friend who sat vulnerable and alone. She had no delusions that if this guy could find Terry at her girls weekend trip, that perhaps he could easily find Terry in their cabin. 

“We have to go!” Sarah said firmly. “We have to check on Terry.”

Both of Melinda and Dot furrowed their brows at the same time.

“What are you talking about? She is fine. Did she send you something or call?” Melinda inquired.

“No.  No, she sent a text saying she was back and safe.  It’s hard to explain, but I just have this feeling that we have to go now. I can explain on the way.” The words began to fly her mouth and she rambled, as she grew more and more panicked.

“Okay. Okay.  Calm down.  We’ll go check on her and if she is okay, we’ll come right back, it’s not that far.” Dot patted her arm as she attempted to soothe her. Melinda nodded and the three paid their tab before walking back down the dark path to the small cottage on the other side of the resort.

Girls' Trip - The Fear - Part IV

Sarah reached out and laid her hand on her friend's shoulder. Terry jumped up and her chair fell over.

“Are you okay?” Sarah laughed nervously at her friend’s reaction to her touch, but she knew it wasn’t her touch that scared her.

No one around them seemed to notice the interaction, as Melinda and Dot were still flipping through the songbook by the DJ booth, and it was far too loud in the bar for anyone else to notice anything strange.  Chairs fell over frequently in bars. Once it hit the floor, you would look and then go back to your conversation.

“I’m not feeling that good.  I think I need to go back to the cabin?”

“What? Really?” Sarah felt the lie. “What’s going on Terry?

Her friend hadn't looked at her since they first laid eyes on the stranger in the bar, but then she finally looked at Sarah, shook her head, and smiled.

“Seriously, nothing is wrong, I ju—my stomach hurts is all, maybe it's something I ate. I think I should go lay down for a bit.  I’ll get up for the bonfire later. I promise."

“Someone should walk back with you.  No one should be walking alone, remember what we agreed to. I’ll go with you.” Sarah offered.

“First, of all, it’s a resort, I’ll be fine.  Secondly, who would walk you back?  One of us would end up walking alone. It might as well be me. Third, the agreement was more directed toward bar close when this entire bar was drunk.” Her voice, confident and convincing, didn’t fool Sarah. She took hold of Terry’s hand and squeezed.

“Are you sure nothing is wrong? That guy in the cor—,“ Sarah looked in the direction of where the cause of her chills had originated and the chair sat empty.

“What guy?” Terry responded. “There’s no one there.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her, “Come on, Terry!  Okay, how do you know where I’m looking? You know exactly who I mean.”

“Fine.” She sucked in a breath. “I thought I saw someone I knew, but then I realized he's just similar looking. It wasn’t who I thought, afterall. AAANNNDDD...before you start that conversation, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

She slowly released Terry’s hand and looked at her sideways as if she could see the truth from that angle.

“Fine. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. But, take the main road back. The one that’s well lit and text me when you get back. You have 15 minutes from the moment you leave my sight,” she pressed.

“Yes mom.” She rolled her eyes.

Sarah watched Terry work her way through ever-growing crowd. Before she could see her see her turn the corner their other two friends plopped back into their chairs, leaned in closely, and began to grill her about where Terry went. She caught them up to speed and reassured them that everything would be alright, though she didn’t believe it herself.

Jacob - Rest in Peace

I guess I didn't get very much more time with my brother.  He passed away on June 7, 2017.  His cancer went so fast.  I'm so heartbroken and so is our mother.  Our little brother is only 14 and I worry, as I'm sure it's hard for him to wrap his mind around.

I have no idea what we will do without him. We have our Fourth of July golf tournament this year. Since our dad passed, this will be the first time Jake won't be there. I'm bringing our little brother with and hopefully I can do so every year from now on, but this is going to be so hard.  I love you so much Jake!

I hope to have something posted more along the lines of the short stories soon, but having to watch my brother and my mother go through this, I needed more of a time out than usual.  I am beginning to write in my novel again, so I'm hoping to pick up my activity on twitter and everywhere else as well as this blog.

Thank you for your patience...to anyone who may read this. :)