Sunday Stroke Survival: One Surgery Down and One to Go

My T-CAR procedure is done. The gauze was not as heavily spotted with junk (clots and plaque) as it was with my left carotid. But then, my right carotid was only at 80% blocked where the left was 98%. The stents will hold the vessels open for a few more years and lessen my chances of having another stroke (maybe). A normal blood flow feeding my brain with oxygen is always a good thing.  Maybe the renewed blood to my brain will combat the CRAFT (can't remember a friggin' thing) I've been experiencing, but I doubt it. LOL I think it has more to do with my strokes and age. But having a normal blood flow feeding my brain with oxygen can't hurt, right? I figure it took over 60 years for the arteries to get that clogged, so I'll be long dead before I'll need it again.

Up next is another biopsy on the mass in my neck. The scan showed the thyroid was gone, but what's the new mass? That's the big question. Is it more cancer? I'll find out next week. All I know is I'm fed up with cancer and having my throat cut. My Mom had three surgeries for her cancer and the scar tissue was horrendous. This will make the fifth time for me. My surgeon is not relishing the idea. He had a difficult enough time the last time. He spent more time removing the scar tissue than removing the mass. It also takes me longer to heal by weeks. But in a way, I'm thankful this is another form of cancer that is not as aggressive as the first one I had nor killed my Mom. Well, I'm not borrowing trouble (much), I'll wait for the biopsy results.

The bright point is I'll meet my deductible and maximum out of pocket expense for 2021 in January. So any further doctors and treatments are paid in full for the rest of the year with these two procedures. I'm praying for the extra $1,400 stimulus package to offset this medical expenditure, or they'll stand in line for a monthly payout.  I love my Medicare and my BCBS/Anthem supplement through the college. 💓💓💓Each year, I experience no medi-gap troubles on prescriptions and my last quarter, my drugs are free. It's a very nice Christmas bonus each year.

Living post stroke and with the medical problems I do have ain't cheap. There's drugs, therapies, doctors, surgeries, laboratory fees, various orthotic devices, and the list goes on and on especially if you're me. I have multiple ( I don't know if this is the right word but...) complications due to my post stroke life like spasticity, tremors, and PBA which adds to the list. I mean six AFOs in almost nine years to the tune of $1500 each plus special shoes yearly because my spasticity alters the way I walk and my balance. And, the maintenance of devices new pads on canes, walker, shower chair, and bedside commode, I had to replace the tires on my wheel chair due to dry rot, resoling my shoes because I wear out the ones on my shoes in six months, and straps and buckles on my AFO because insurances doesn't pay for them and they break. All chip away at spendable cash in my tight budget.

Wohoo! I got a COLA increase this year. It covers the increase in my BCBS coverage THANKS BE TO GOD! I've been luckier than most in this respect. I have a friend who is also receiving survivor benefits, but her supplement are piece mealed between A/B, D &F on separate supplement policies and it leaves her with twice the cost as my one supplement. And, she has a deductible and hits the medi-gap on her prescriptions in December. If she gets an increase in her supplement, she can't pay her power bill and/or groceries for the month. I help her out when I can, but I'm almost in the same boat.  That's the one big plus about growing your own is that we can share if we need to. I'm counting my blessings for my beloved who is still looking after me.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Great News for a Change!

I hope y'all celebrated the 4th of July and your independence yesterday. I know I did.
I've been doing the Snoopy dance of happiness this week.  Here's the reason why...

1)The latest scan of my thyroid cancer say it's GONE. The chemo kicked it's hinny right out of my body again.

2)I went to my Vascular surgeon for another scan of my right carotid artery. The report was the artery is less than 70% blocked so no surgery is required. He doesn't need to see me again for a year.

3) I saw my cardiologist for the results of my echocardiogram. My numbers looked so good that he doesn't need to see me again for 6 months! I've seen my cardiologist every 3 months for the past 5 years. He told me whatever I was doing to keep it up.

4) I saw my PCP this week also. It's been a whirlwind of appointments this week. I was in his office just two months ago for my six month check up, but my insurance company requested a physical be done now.  So we chatted/griped about insurance and big pharma. LOL He went through the motions again for a "physical." He said what he always does which I love, "Call me if you need me."

I still need to see my neurologist in two weeks for my standard six month check up. Now that the quarantine has been lifted I need an order for PT again. I also want to schedule Botox again. I desperately need some relief from the spasticity even if it's only 45 days out of 90. It's a stop gap measure until I figure out what else there is. Atlanta is still too hot with COVID-19 to even consider getting another baclofen pump. Not that I've decided to get another one.

I see the endocrinologist it late August about my gone again thyroid and my hypoglyclemia. My A1C on Monday was 4.2. I'm eating 6 times a day already. Maybe she can tell me why my stroke caused my pancreas to go from dead to kick into hyperdrive. No other doctor including my old endocrinologist knew the answer. Maybe, just maybe. I guess I should be thankful for not giving myself two to three shots of insulin a day like before my first stroke in 2012.

So y'all joined me in the Snoopy dance of happiness, won't you?

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival:No Turkey Neck

Not me!I googled it.

Here I go again. I'm looking at the bright side of battling cancer.

One of the definite signs of aging is getting a turkey neck. Gravity is not your friend as you age. Everything sags. Your skin loosens as a result and the lower collagen starts to tell your age. Your boobs sag towards your belly button, your upper arms begin flapping, your bottom develops a flattened downward angle, and the skin on your jaw and neck forms puddles of loose skin.

I had noticed the former begin to show in my own mirror. My looks were changing. I doubt my own grandchildren would recognize me because I didn't recognize myself. I looked so old. When did that happen?

But getting back to my turkey neck, when I had my thyroid surgery a few months ago, my turkey neck disappeared! They had to cut out my previous scar out and it pull my neck skin tighter. Bonus of having cancer.

The surgery wasn't plastic surgery but the results were the same. My incision is just below the upper picture and right at the bottom picture cuts off. In effect I had plastic surgery without the insurance exclusion. Of course, unlike plastic surgery, there is a scar.

Thyroid cancer tends to metastasize to the lymphatic system, breast, lungs, and brain first. Well, with the lockdown most of us has suffered through, I need my hair cut anyhow. Wohoo, another breast reduction surgery and I'll lose weight without having to diet. Same thing with Chemo. I'll become svelte, exotic gypsy again. My hair will come back with even more thicker and wavy. Maybe, I'll even lose all of my leg and under arm hairs permanently. Wouldn't that be a joyous thing. No more struggling to shave them. Even more "plastic surgery" with removal of lymphatic nodes under my arms, neck, and jaw lines. I'll be one foxy looking chick after all this. Of course, I'll have new battle scars to show off too because it isn't plastic surgery.

I'm not being flippant. Maybe a little. I know this cancer is serious because it killed my mother. I took care of her and watched as she died. But I've already died once less than a year ago. I'm not afraid to die. Living with the aftermath of strokes has taught me surviving isn't all its cracked up to be. That's not to say, I want to die and won't fight to stay alive...I have and will continue to fight.

You know what they say, prepare for the worst and pray for the best. That's all I'm saying in this post. From previous experiences in battling this disease, I know a positive attitude and laughter is essential in winning the battle. Didn't my own husband live on another ten years after his prognosis of terminal/anytime? It's all about the way you want to live your life and how you want the memories to leave your loved ones. So many happy memories tips the balance in the sense of loss they will feel and grieve with smiles. He taught me that.

I lead by example because someone else showed me the way first through the years.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Living Post Stroke Just Got Easier!

I pray y'all have a Merry Christmas full of wanted gifts, surrounded by family, and love.

I won't keep you in suspense any longer. The scan was negative for mets! What my PCP wanted to see me about was thyroid replacement hormones since I once again have no thyroid gland. NO MORE CANCER!!!! Anyone who has the genetically altered genes from atomic bomb blast shouldn't have a thyroid gland.

Thank you God for giving my thyroid back to me,

BUT please do not heal this part of my body again!

Heal other parts of my body first.

Does this sound selfish? I apologize, but it's the truth. I guess He's healing me in order of occurrence. My first battle with cancer was cervical. Since I later had all those rusted pipes removed, I'm not sexually active, and at my age, He didn't see the sense in restoring those items. I'm praising Him loudly for this.😁

It's rifle season for deer hunters. So the barter agreement I made with the young man who delivers our firewood is in effect. For every deer he shoots, I'll help him clean, skin, and butcher it, and he'll give us three quarters of the meat from the kill and even the hide if I want to tan it. It's been many a year since I've tanned my own buckskin. He collects antlers and has very little need for the meat being a single guy. I'm not exactly going hunting for deer on our property and I'm not as mobile as I once was. He came last week and set up his game cameras and blind down by the creek.

I hope he gets a ten pointer, but I doubt it. Nnyus, our livestock guardian dog, chases off all other animals that aren't supposed to be on the property. If it doesn't belong to us, it's a predator to our livestock or gardens. He'll be here to man his blind at 6 AM every weekend during the season, but then again in GA, we can hunt our own property anytime for food regardless of the season, but we abide by the seasons guideline. We honestly need meat in our freezer. My mouth is drooling over the prospect of fresh venison and recipes keep popping into my head.

I guess I could stake out the orchard area on the other side of the property to hedge our bet some. I've seen fresh hoof prints and scat in the orchard. So I know they are visiting there. Nah, it's not worth the bruised shoulder and aggravating my spasticity in my right arm. There's something to be said against no pain, no gain when no or reducing pain is my number one goal these days. I wish him luck!

We're gearing up for Christmas, how about you? Without my children and grands around, I'm sort of 'Bah Humbug' this year. I haven't been home to see anyone in over a year. I won't be going home this year because I still can't drive yet. Another month to go since my six month mark of being seizure free.  It's been a double edged sword not being able to drive.

We didn't even break out the Christmas decorations. It's just one more thing to take out, put up, and take down. Even my little 1' tree was too much effort for either of us. So Christmas stayed packed up in the barn this year. I might bake some sugar cookies and decorate them. Although, neither of us like them very much. Maybe I'll make some Buckeyes, that's more to our tastes. As far as Christmas dinner goes. Pfft! No sense in making a huge amount of food for just us. Maybe a small beef roast or grill a couple of Ribeye steaks. Nothing elaborate just dinner for us two. I'd do TV dinners, if I had an oven. Wait, they make them microwaveable now, right? It's been decades since I've bought one. Are they still so blah tasting? The pictures on the box always look so great.

I should be celebrating, right? But I have the carry over effect from the high I-131 radiation...chronic fatigue. I keep telling myself I'll be better in January and I will. It's the high stress letdown too. I know all of this. I miss my husband. On the Christmases when my ex had the children, he'd take me to the local Chinese restaurant for something different to eat instead of turkey, ham, or roast beef. They were the only restaurant in town open on Christmas day...even McDonald's is closed. Mama and Daddy Chow's restaurant was always open. I cooked there when they first opened their doors and remained part of their family since 1977. My oldest daughter cut her teeth on their rib bones. But the restaurant closed its doors three years ago when Daddy Chow died at 90. Christmas is the time for nostalgia or is it melancholy, right?


Okay. Now I'm just rambling. 
Merry Christmas y'all! 

Remember...

Nothing is impossible! 

Getting on with Life!

Once again I'm cancer free for the time being. After a month of glowing in the dark, I can be around people and animals again. I have a whole body CT next week to find out whether it has spread. So technically, I'm not out of the woods yet. This makes the third time I've had my throat cut. Twice because of cancer and once by a rapist. I never want to go through that again.

To celebrate this week, I'm going to paint the wood for the new quail hutches. Actually they are not new. They were the old outdoor rabbit hutches. I started dismantling them before my surgery and left the remainder of the quad-plex of rabbit hutches that were against one side of the house for Mel to finish.

While I spent so much time waiting on my cancer surgery (since May), I started research raising quail for our homestead for several reasons. Quail is fairly lean and all dark meat unlike chicken and other poultry. We are huge dark meat fans here. A 6-8oz bird once

dressed and cooked provides one serving of 3 to 4 ounces of meat. The perfect serving size. They are small and easy to butcher one-handed.

Quail eggs provide extra health benefits. Chock full of vitamin B for nerve health and promotes a healthy gut. Vitamin D and phosphor for bone growth and strength, and boosts immunities. Vitamin A for boosting immunities. Vitamin K to promote clotting (not so good for stroke survivors), but this vitamin also helps with calcium absorbancy. The yolks contain luthein and zeaksantin for your retinas, it's a little bit lower than carrots. The eggs help stabilize cholesterol numbers. They contain choline which improves the memory function in the brain.

For the same space it took to raise four rabbits, I can raise 288 quail! Not that I plan to raise that many at once. Quail are fully grown and will start laying eggs in as little as 6 to7 weeks old instead of 6 to 7 months for chickens. Granted it takes 3 quail eggs to make 1 large chicken egg, but they make better economic sense. I'll be starting with twenty-five birds and hatch out more until we have about, at most, 100 birds to sell, breed, or eat.

My PT was put on hold for the past month. I'm looking forward to that starting back up later this month. My left arm strength was increased to where I could lift a thirty pound bag of cat food with little or no trouble. I was even more stable walking again. I didn't feel like I had to touch furniture as I walked by to keep my balance. I could walk down the ramps and walk into the bunny/chicken hoop barn again without the use of my cane. My stamina was increasing almost to the point of before my two-week hospitalization in mid summer. I'm hoping to get more stronger and have even greater balance by the end of the year with my return to PT.

With the sloped terrain on our property, my steps per day get an extra punch. Even walking on the semi flat 1/4 acre part of the property is still a fairly good chunks of steps each day as I tend to the animals (not to mention bending and lifting), feeding, watering and grooming. Raking and turning the compost in place deep litter barn straw. Picking up kindling (sticks and branches) for the wood stove. Carrying splits of wood inside to burn in the wood stove.  Added to my PT/OT exercises twice a day (Yes, I still do them to the best of my ability), I get quite a work out. I don't need to pay for no stinking gym membership.

 I easily hit my daily step goal of 25k-50k.  I had even thought of going back to my previous daily goal of 75k-100k steps. It'll be easier to do when Mel starts her chicken farm operation on the lower 1/4 acre orchard terraces. The plan includes concrete block stairs for easier access. For now, I use the yard tractor to get below the first tier, because the sloped access is too steep for me to traverse safely. I'd really hate falling and rolling down that twenty-foot slope, trying to get up at the bottom, and making my way back up the terraced orchard levels.

It's the stuff of nightmares. One every impaired person fears. Each tier is 14' wide and drops 7' on each level except the 8' wide track which allows tractor or truck access on either side that slopes downward. We designed it this way keeping in mind that as the dwarf trees grew, they'd have ample light and space for ladders and half bushel baskets. On the two lowest tiers, we've planted pecan and walnut trees. This is also where we grow orchard grass/hay for our livestock. Currently, we only have (2 each) the nut trees, apple, cherry, plum, planted. Our trellised raspberry, grapes, and blueberries take up most of the first 75' upper tier. With fig and peach trees going in this year. There's still about thirty feet on each tier left unplanted. This is where Mel plans to put her chicken operation.

I want to try growing upland rice in a  10'x10' patch this spring. Just a trial patch as an experiment and for seed for a larger patch the following year. If this is successful, it'll be another item I can check off my self sustainable check list. We love our rice. So I've spent the past month researching and planning. I couldn't do much else. I know from experience, when battling cancer, the depression and what-ifs can really bring me down. This makes my fifth time battling this.

The key is planning what to do next after the battle is over and you've won. There's time enough to worry/pray/cry about inevitable outcomes if the CT shows mets. If I have to side step from the path because of additional surgeries or treatments so be it. I'll still have a plan for when I win this battle and I plan on winning. The alternative is that cancer kills me, but I'll still win because I'll be where I ultimately want to be too.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Ugh! My Doctor Rounds

I've spent the last several weeks doing my regular doctor rounds. As I've said previously here, it's important to have all your doctors (your heealth care team) on the same page.

What happened at Emory a month ago caused a major hiccup in my health care plan and numerous missed appointments. They had to be updated. I've had medicine adjusted, discontinued and added. Who wants drug interactions thrown into the mix? A seizure and an undignosed head injury were just the tip of the iceberg in the realm of neurosurgery and neurology that they needed to know. But it effects all my other doctors too. My heart stopping was in the realm of my cardiologist, but my PCP needed to know this too. In fact, my PCP needed to know ALL of it because he's my ring leader and clearing house for everything medical. Even my podiatrist got updated because now with the low heart rates and blood pressure, I have poor circulation to my feet on top of my neuropathy in my feet. A double whammy for possible complication to pressure sores caused by my AFO.

They are my team and I'm at the center for the best possible outcome for me. This is not only deals with the doctors but their nurses as well. By everyone being on the same page, they can make informed decisions. For example, I really need to have my cancerous tumor in my thyroid area removed. But I have to heal up from my baclofen pump removal and the infection that started it all. This means contact with my neurosurgeon through my PCP or directly. My neurologist comes into play at this point because he's not only juggling my post strokes care, the fact I no longer have a baclofen pump, and the spasticity has returned with a vengeance, but also my seizure.  I have them under control and stable before I can even think about having surgery. Then, the cardiologist into play because my heart stopped. I've also got  three out of four leaky valves in my heart, unstable angina, been in heart failure, paradoxical blood pressures inside my heart vs my whole body, and worsen plaque in my carotids. It takes the whole team weighing in on a surgery and follow up treatments for my cancer.

While I agree with this team approach, I just want the cancer removed and go on with my life. I feel like Damocles' sword is hanging over my head. Can you blame me?

So the timeline looks like this. End of May they found the tumor.The beginning of July, I was preparing for this cancer surgery. It's September now. Neurology- I have to be clear and stabilized on seizure meds (at least a month).  Plus be off my blood thinners for at least 7 days which increases my likilihood of having yet another stroke by 75%.
Neurosurgeon- At least 8 weeks after pump removal. I'm now on week 7. Another week to go.
Cardiology- Have to be off blood thinners for 7 days and determine how to keep my heart beating during surgery since I can't take my atenenol nor my omega3 which reduces my cholesterol (at least two weeks). Will being off my blood thinner and omega 3 increase the likelihood of the plaque breaking loose thereby having another stroke or my lungs causing further complications.

It's complicated. So maybe by the beginning of October, I can be cleared for the cancer removal. I'm still hoping it hasn't spread by then. It's the luck of the Irish dampened by Murphy's Law.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: If Not Me

So many people have offered me condolences for what I've been going through...the death of my beloved, my heart issue, living post strokes, and now dealing with cancer again. I understand. They can't think of anything else to say with any sincerity. They really do care.

Part of what the Murphey Saga is all about is telling it like it is. In reading my posts, a small part of them says, "Whew! I'm glad it isn't me!" or as bad as it gets, "Wow! Look at her go. What an affirmation and inspiration!" But in reality, that's why I keep writing. I'll respond with it's "Murphy's Law and I'm Murphey," or Neitzsche 's "that which doesn't kill us...",or "Trouble with Tribbles," or even "If not me, then someone else."

In fact, it's the last one, "If not me, then someone else" that spurs me on. I can't imagine all of this happening to someone else. So I'd rather it be me. I know where my strength lies and comes from. Even though it might devastate someone else, I have the ability, through God's Grace, the weather this storm. No matter what comes. I have faith that one way or another, it will be alright. God will always be praised. Through Him, my strength is magnified. If you don't believe in a higher power, then I feel sorry for you. Someone else may not have the inner strength, fortitude, or faith to carry them through as I do.

In the grand scheme of life, this is a bump in the road. Every mishap in life is but a moment. My husband living ten years after the doctors all said any time now he's going to die. Even ten years out of the 66 years of his life was a drop in the bucket of his life. Every "bad" thing that's happened in my life are just drops. The abundant joy I've lived is appreciated more than all those bumps or detours in the road or drops in my bucket in my life. Not everyone feels this way or even knows about this.

For as bad as it can get for me, it is worse for others out there. Remember, it can always be worse. Remember I once compared myself, after my stroke, to my friend who was left with no arms after a car accident with three small kids? The same thing applies with me facing cancer again. I'm friends with an elderly couple in their 80s. He was diagnosed with cancer. It hit his lymph nodes and spread like wild fire. He beat a different cancer just a year ago. Now he's going through heavy duty chemo to beat his cancer back a few months. Not curing it mind you just to survive a few months more with his wife. He just celebrated his 83rd birthday. No hope of surgery or cure because its spread throughout his body. The happy times are remembered and carry the rest of us through.

Not that my cancer hasn't spread but I don't know that yet. Mine may have. It's a tragedy of errors that has plagued my life so far. But still, I'm counseling to this couple to enjoy every moment that they have. It's similar to the way I talk to couples who aren't undergoing calamities in their life. Even though my beloved and I had twenty-eight years together, 25 years married, we never forgot how time in this life is short. Twenty-eight years was a drop in the bucket of my life and his. So being in my 7th year of recovering post stroke is nothing but a bump in the road as is facing cancer again. It's a factor in my life for now. For all the "bad, scary, and upheavals" in my life, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of blessings and thankful happy moments to offset them. It tips my scales towards the positive.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: The Energizer Bunny

At times, I feel like the Energizer Bunny. But the battery is running low so instead of  him beating his drum in a rapid cadence, it's more like skipping every other beat. Kind of like my heart is doing right now. No, that's not good news either.

But I'm stronger than last week. I managed to go with Mel to the dump. More for moral support than actually helping because I'm still under a 10 lb weight lifting restraint. I actually managed to feed the rabbits and chickens three times this week. I leave the watering to Mel, it's too much repetitive bending for me to do comfortably yet, but I'm doing more while am healing up. I've even managed cooking our main meal (3 PM- 5PM) five times this week. So that's an improvement, but it's not happening fast enough.

While I know I'll get there in time, I have this ticking time bomb booming in my head with every passing day while I recover and get semi normal again. The time bomb is the cancer in my thyroid area. Everyday that passes is another day that it might spread to my lungs, brain, or lymphatic system. I'm already living post six strokes, a failed baclofen pump placement and removal, and a failing heart. Did I really need cancer too? Talk about a quadruple whammy!

I-131

So as you can tell, my patience is running a bit thin right now with it taking so long to recover enough for this next surgery. The radiation therapy has a basically, for this type of cancer, carries with it a 28-day half life of isolation protocol. I have to spend the first two weeks in a lead lined room in the hospital. After that I'm discharged home, I have to maintain a 3-foot distance from every living thing (plant and animal). My bedding and clothing need to be washed twice, any eating and cooking stuff will be contaminated and must be washed in the dishwasher or use disposables. Meals will have to be cooked by Mel. Been here, done that, and didn't want to do it again.

That brings up another point. Disposables must be bagged separately in bio-hazard bags and held for 90 days before it's safe enough to be disposed of. Even though the hospitals can dispose these, it can only happen after the 45-day mark. Imagine how many diapers, and paper goods will be generated in that time frame.

Now if the cancer has spread, that a whole 'nother can of worms. More radiation (not the isolation type) and chemo to look forward to. Sure I can afford at least a 50-lb weight drop, but I can think of a dozen less drastic ways to do  this. Losing my hair is the least of my worries. I'll be fighting for my life. When I've gone through this before I wore peasant skirts and blouses, big earrings, and silk scarves. These were my gypsy months. But as a sexagenarian, I don't think I'll bother with that this time. Before, I stayed in the work force and was in the public eye more.

Around here, the rabbits, chickens, cats, dogs, and garden don't care what I look like so long as they are tended to. Well I take that back, Buddy Baby (rabbit) and Lil Bit (cat) do like to lick my eyelids and brows, and groom my hair as a signs of affection. But that's it. Mel will just have to get used to it. With the weather cooling down, I can always knit myself a couple of chemo caps while they pump that poison into my veins, right?

Did I mention my patience is wearing thin? My thoughts turn positively morbid when I get like this. Can't you tell? My positive, uplifting, and optimistic side  slides into oblivion the more my patience gets thinner. I can still pray so I'm not totally without hope. This is the most important thing to me. Now, God is giving me enough patience to get me through today and that's my blessing. He keeps reminding me that He is control no matter what happens. He's got my back, front, and both sides.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival ~ Too Many Doctors in the Mix

There is a small, orange pill on the market that does a jam up job as a blood thinner called Plavix. It's a shame I wasn't on it at the time of my stroke or I might have been delayed my family history catching up to me. I had been on it for years prior to too many doctors in the mix. Here goes my story...

In 1998, my blood tests came back with cause for concern. I had a very high red blood cell count. So I was diagnosed with erythrocytosis (uh-rith-roh-sie-TOE-sis). A big word meaning high red blood cell count. I was put on Plavix to thin my blood because I was allergic to aspirin. Considering all the chemo I had received during my cancer treatments, I thought this was good news, but it wasn't. Now my bone marrow was producing too many of them. My blood was clotting too fast. I had, in fact, thick blood.

I was in the third vial category.

Fast forward to 2000. It was a Jo massive trouble year with my heart attack blowing out two valves in my heart and damage to the muscle. Not to mention an abnormal pap smear leading to a hysterectomy, bladder and bowel resection thanks to five tumors in my lower abdomen, AND an abnormal mammogram leading to the diagnosis of breast cancer. Yeppers, it was a red letter year of huge medical expenses and surgeries. A good thing I decided to retire starting in January that year. I wouldn't have had time to work.

If I had not already been on Plavix, the cardiac surgeon who put in the stent in my Left Coronary Artery (LCA)would have. He also told me that my "thick" blood shouldn't be a problem anymore since he fixed the artery carrying oxygenated blood to the heart. If I had no further problems with high red blood cells, I could come off the Plavix in five years. The thinking at the time was five years and has now been extended to ten years, but none of my doctors knew that.

Fast forward again to 2006. After having reconstructive surgery on my breasts after the previous cancer, I didn't expect to have to go through it all again. I did, but this time I opted for radiation treatments. To heck with reconstructive surgery afterwards.

After I'd beaten the BIG C for the fourth time, I started to have issues with my bowels. I got a referral for an internist. He read over my chart carefully and decided I needed a colonoscopy. If you've never done this prep be warn...it's bad! After it was over, the good news about no polyps, and I was in his office again he was deciding what to do. He wanted me to take prescription strength Prilosec. Two capsules would equal six over the counter capsules.

There was just one problem. Prilosec was contraindicated with Plavix. He saw that it was over five years since my heart cath with no problems other than a very irregular EKG and I was on medication for ventricular fibrillation. He stopped the Plavix so he could treat me for gastric reflux and irritable bowel syndrome.

My cardiologist wasn't really happy about this six months later, but all my blood work looked good except for my cholesterol being high. I'd tried statins to lower my cholesterol, but developed severe leg and abdominal cramping. Heredity was at fault because of my Germanic heritage. The statins were stopped. She put me on six capsules of triple omega capsules a day and a strict meatless diet. Still my cholesterol was almost 300.

Very slowly over the next six years my erythrocytosis returned. My cholesterol levels still weren't great but they were the best they were going to get without statins. A bad genetic heritage led up to my stroke in 2012.  A small clot formed in my heart and went to my brain. The GERD and irritable bowel medication was stopped and I was put on Plavix again.

Now my stomach burns while the doctors search for a medicine I can take to counteract the problem while being on Plavix, because I won't come off it again. I can't take the chance. I never venture far from home unless I know where the restrooms are. It's like those commercials for Crohn's disease, except I don't have Crohn's. So if you see me making a bee line for the bathroom, don't stop me to chat.

I should buy stock in Tums, but can't. The good news is there is no sign of fragile bones or osteoporosis on my latest bone density scan. All that extra calcium is being put to good use. And, I don't get gassy like I do when I take the oyster shell calcium supplements.

So for now, I take my Plavix each and every day. Who knows the next stroke, I may not survive another day to keep fighting.

Nothing is impossible with determination.

Big C Bloghop ~The Boob Job

So I signed up for another anthology type blog hop. This one is about cancer and proceeds will help pay for another writer's cancer treatments. Yes, it's a worthy cause. Having battled the beast four times already and won, AND as a caregiver for a terminally ill, cancer ridden husband, now with hospice service, I know how expensive this is. After all, we've spent over a million dollars, out of pocket expense, on my husband's ten-year battle.

After facing this reality, how can I come up with something inspiring and uplifting to say about the Big C? You know I can. I usually do with this blog. The reason for the delay in posting is that there were/are too many stories to tell and weeding it down to one.

The Boob Job

Nothing strikes at a female's femininity more than breast cancer. Even a passing thought of this particular cancer strikes questions like future sex appeal, future partner relationship impacts, and even clothing options.

Now I have always had large breasts on a petite frame. My twins always greeted you before I did. I was an EE after five children on a size 2 frame. You can see it right? I opted for a breast reduction because of back problems and was very happy with my size C breasts until 1998. Think 10 pounds each side removed. Granted at over 50, gravity was doing it's natural thing. Hey, even at over 50, I ain't dead yet.

I found a lump during a shower. Now I've always had fibroids so it would have been so easy to pass it off as another one, But this one felt different. Having battled cancer twice already I checked in with my family physician. He ordered a mammogram. Sure enough, it came back questionable. Always, always listen to that tiny voice in your head.

I was scheduled for surgery the next week. A long few days of agonizing discussions ensured. I decided if it was cancer to let the doctor remove all that he could find while I was in surgery.I would deal with the aftermath later. The idea of waking up after anesthesia, being told it was cancer, and having another surgery scheduled was too much. I wanted it out and done. A brave move? Not hardly. To me, it was a chicken poop way of not facing my fears until it was over or at least this part. Radiation and chemo would follow but I'd deal with that later. One crisis at a time.

I awoke with both breast gone, as well as some lymph nodes under my right arm. How did I know this? The pain upon movement. The amount of packing and bandages gives you the impression that you still have squashed boobs after surgery if you look at just the bandages.

The realization that lymph nodes had been removed rang alarm klaxons in my head. This wasn't over. There was spread. So I began repeating my mantra in my head.

I'm too mean to die.

 I'm too stubborn to give up.
 I'm a fighter.
 I'm in God's hands.

I repeated it several hundred times before the surgeon came to give me the bad news. He couldn't believe my peacefulness upon receiving the news. He must of thought I was in shock because he repeated himself and shot a concerned look to my husband. But I told me that I understood everything he had said. The battle was just beginning.

My old oncologist came in. I'd given him a heads up prior to my surgery. We discussed options. I opted to go straight to chemo since the lymph nodes were involved. Let's fool the cancer that I'm dying so it will stop and die too. That's what chemo basically is. It kills the cancer cells, as well as healthy ones. This sounds like bravado, and in retrospect it was in part.

I knew I would lose my hair once again. I pulled out my silk scarves from a ziplock bag stuffed in my underwear drawer. There is nothing more girlie than donning pure silk on bare flesh. Just the thought gave me tingles of pleasure. Yes, I'd forgo the wigs once again.  I placed my large, gold hoop earrings on the dresser. Black eyeliner pencil to emphasize my eyes instead of a sick body. Gypsy fortune teller mode. I'd asked for the prescriptions for Phenagren and Immodium from my oncologist beforehand and they now sat at my bedside. I knew how the chemo would affect my body. Been there. Done that. Didn't want to be here again. But I was.

I'd grabbed a paperback and stuffed it in my purse. I was girded in my armor with my mantra on the tip of my tongue. Let the infusions of poisons begin. I was Don Quixote off to battle the beast, or King Richard the Lion Heart taking on Saladin in Jerusalem. My purse transformed into flail with sharp spikes and sturdy chain. I was ready for battling the beast. I would be victorious once again. Of this, I had no doubt because...

I'm too mean to die.
Too stubborn to give up.
I'm a fighter.
I'm in God's hands.