Speech to Text: Findings

 It was a relief yesterday to get the gauze bandages removed.

I was told that everything looked good. I am healing well. After the area was wiped down with an antiseptic, new gauze was placed.

The nurse went over the pathology report with me. A new section had been added. No mention was made of stage so I asked her if she knew what it was. Her best guess, since the final determination is made by the surgeon, was stage 2B. Later in the day, I decided to read the copy of the pathology report she gave me. It took a while because there were terms to look up.

Here is my summary:

Stage 2B, grade 3 invasive ductal carcinoma. Grade 3 indicates that the cancer is highly aggressive.

Skeletal muscle is present and involved. Carcinoma invades skeletal muscle. All regional lymph nodes negative for tumor.

The type of breast cancer present is triple negative, which is the same type I had eight years ago. Triple negative is considered to be one of the most aggressive forms of breast cancer.

The report gave my recurrence score estimate of 40.2. That is within the possible range from 9 up to 55. What does that mean? There is an increased likelihood of early systemic recurrence. That is the statement that really gets to me.

As all of that information sunk in yesterday evening, I became depressed. Is this what I'm facing for the rest of my life? Treating this local recurrence? And then facing at some point a systemic recurrence? Is the rest of my life going to be defined by cancer treatment? I went to bed depressed and woke up depressed this morning.

It did not help when I accidentally spilled the drainage poured into the little measuring cup. I empty the drain bulb two times a day. And I record the amount drawn to show the nurse at my next appointment. After cleaning up the mess, I had to guess how much had been in the cup. I guessed 15 ml.Hopefully, by next week's appointment, the drain will run dry so that I can have it removed and take showers again!

I was tempted to either try to sleep again or get lost in a solitaire game. Fortunately, I remembered that it was important 2 turn to Jesus for help. Before opening today's devotional from the book sailboat church, I asked God to please speak to me. What I did not expect was how perfect today's devotional would be for me.

This devotional is one that our church’s session is reading to seek God's will for our small church moving forward. The format is like this: a scripture is named, followed by the focus text, which is quoted. Then follows a brief paragraph titled listening to God. It is written in first person, like God is speaking directly to you. What is said relates to the text. Here it is, in quotation marks, and followed by my response.

“Your lack is never the end of the story.”

How I needed to hear that. With cancer treatment, I lack energy. I lack the ability to do much of anything. I wonder what will happen to the plans I have for my future.

“When your resources run out, if you are in the flow of my will, all the resources of heaven are available to you. It grieves me when you forget that I am your source of supply.”

Immediately start to pray. Forgive me for forgetting this so quickly. Thank you for reminding me that I've given my life to you and that you are in control. Open my eyes moment by moment to your will. Help me to fully rely on you, ohh God.

“Praying in the name of Jesus is not magic. It means that you surrender yourself to my will and are willing to be used for my purposes. Let me work through you to do miracles in the lives of others! Together, we can do more than you could ever ask or imagine.”

It seems that surrendering myself to God's will takes place day by day, and often moment by moment. I know that it is easy for me to slip into depression rather than to submit myself to God. Help me, God, to keep coming back to you, for in you alone is abundant life even for someone with cancer.

This morning's experience reminds me that Jesus is my lifeline. It reminds me that he is faithful. It reminds me to keep searching, to keep praying, to keep reading his word. I do not know what the future holds, but i know this: God loves me and God will use this time for his glory. And beyond that, he will keep blessing me with his love.

Speech to Text

 

September 10, 2024

Speech to Text

last Wednesday was long.. We arrived at St. John's at 10:00 AM for surgery at 1:30 PM. As it turned out, my surgery started at 3:30 PM or so. The high point in the day was getting to drink a 12 ounce bottle of apple juice yet 11:30 AM, a new protocol for surgery preparation.

Because it takes me so long to wake up after a general anesthetic, we we're not ready to head for home until 7:00 PM.

Since Wednesday, the days have blurred together. The first couple days I spent napping day and night, getting up 2 use the bathroom or take another pain pill. A couple days ago, I cut way back on the pain pills and started to stay awake for a good part of each day.

Several women from church provided meals. And oh have I eaten well! I've been trying to follow the doctor's orders, getting up to walk around the house every few hours and doing my best not to use my right arm. Not using that arm was very easy the first couple days because it hurt so much when I moved it. That is not the case now come on which I'm happy to announce. And I'm having less drainage in my drain pump every day.

My brain power is slowly returning. I have added scrolling Facebook or playing kindle games 2 just listening to music. I'm still not focusing very well, so reading, as in a book, is still out of the question. Morning get space delete. OK what I meant was

 

delete delete space delete

I'm having a few problems navigating speech to text, as you can see.

My son is handling details for my day each morning and evening. Things like filling glasses of water from the heavy water pitcher and preparing glasses of iced coffee. Plus, of course, doing dishes. End my laundry. You lying

I am choosing not to make corrections for two reasons. First, because I'm just learning speech to text and don't want to use my right hand to physically make corrections. Second, to let you see how this speech to text writing works for me. When you see something that does not make sense, it is simply what the computer typed instead of a command I tried to give. I will say that speech to text works way better than it did 20 years ago.

My daughter came by on Saturday morning, and it was so nice to see her. We keep in touch during the week through phone calls.

Many thanks to the ones who have provided meals this week, into hope stone for the meals they will provide again starting tomorrow. And sanks to those who have already given me rides to appointments and who will be giving me rides to appointments.

During July and August, I experienced so much joy and peace bubbling up from my soul. That definitely was the gift of the Holy Spirit. Since my surgery, I have not been feeling that joy and peace but I recognize that God is with me even when I do not sense his presence. I think that right now my body he is using all its energy to feel. End my mind and my heart are still digesting the information trauma the reality, that the road ahead will be long and hard. You see, last night I looked up my pathology report. I had to look up medical terminology to understand just about every single line of the report, and i'm not sure did I thought it all even then. What I do definitely understand though is that this cancer is a grade 3, meaning it is highly aggressive. A bit of it had already spread into my chest muscle. The report said that the surgeon removed 4 lymph nodes. From other things said in the report calm huh i am guessing that this is a stage 2A cancer. We will see tomorrow, when I see my surgeon again, if I am correct or not.

To say that God seeped joy and peace upon me to the overflow this summer to help me prepare for the journey I had. This fresh knowledge that God is always near is encouraging. I do not have to rely on feelings to know it. Please continue to pray for me, for my medical team, for my family and friends. Remember that God is good all the time, and all the time God is good!

 

 

Here We Go

September 3, 2024

Tomorrow’s the day: total right mastectomy at 1:30 pm. The next time I blog will be by dictation, hopefully within the next two weeks. I have no idea how soon the urge to write will hit me.

But today was filled with “last times.”  I’ll follow the day’s chronology.

I got in to work at my church at 11:30 am, following a home visit from Elder Care to initiate their weekly housekeeping service, which is funded by a grant. The two and a half hours I spent in the office today were the last ones for a while: I’ll be out of the office for a month or so for recovery from surgery and for an undetermined start and end date once my chemotherapy schedule is determined.

From there I went to pick up Tango, my cat, from the vet (where she boarded for the weekend and got her vaccinations up to date) to take to ARF (Animal Rescue Foundation). That was hard, to say the least. I’m glad that ARF is such a wonderful place. Tango gets her own room for a few days to acclimate before moving into the common space for cats. The side facing into the common space is clear glass; on the other side is a generous window facing out to a lawn with wooded area. The cat tree by the window gives her a clear view outside. Water, food, cat bed, and kitty litter box are all provided. The staff and volunteers clearly love cats, so she will get good attention. I pet her for at least ten minutes, telling her I was sorry to be letting her go. But by the time I left ARF, I was ready to start coughing from all the fur and cat smell.

After returning my neighbor’s cat carrier, it was time to go see the grandkids one last time before surgery. Because there are five of them, all rambunctious and totally in love with me, I will not be seeing them in person until I am well-healed from surgery. I sang songs to Benjamin a few times. What good is a grandma visit without “Wheels on the Bus” and “Patty Cake”? Eleven-year-old Joelle showed me educational videos on the iPad—one on Abraham Lincoln and the other on the Harvey homes of the 1850s (the original motels and restaurants every 100 miles on a westward bound train route). At one point, I had both Josiah (9) and Ava (6) cuddled up with me on the rocker recliner. Two-and-a-half-year-old Elijah proudly carried around one of the construction paper stars that Josiah brought home from school today, and when I gave him one of my business cards, he was over the moon with happiness.

Dana and Shawn prayed for me before I left. I feel both loved and bereft, thinking of the next weeks without my Tuesday and Friday visits. We will do Facetime, and Dana will visit me on the weekends when Shawn is home to care for the troop while she gets a little break.

A little while ago, Joseph and I went over two simple but very important tasks he will do each morning before leaving for college or work: filling big glasses of water from the pitcher water purifier to put in the refrigerator and making a couple glasses of the iced coffee I love. Sounds a little over the top? This falls under the category of not using my right arm and minimizing stretching and lifting of my left arm.

While being away from my part-time pastoring, giving away my cat, and not seeing my grandkids twice a week like I’m used to (yes, I know I’m spoiled) are what I’m grieving right now, I also have the sense that Jesus is preparing some sort of new beginning for me. My guess is that it involves getting closer to him. What I know is that I can trust Jesus for the present and for whatever the future will hold. That’s enough for me.

 

Stressed AND Blessed

 My emotional capacity is overloaded.

·         My car has broken down three times in the past few weeks: two sensors and my battery failed, all at different times, of course, but fortunately all at home.

·         I’m giving my seven-year-old cat back to ARF (Animal Rescue Foundation), where I adopted her as a kitten: it was a hard decision, but for the best. I’ve become allergic to her fur; plus, I don’t want to take the chance of her hitting my incision when she jumps up on my lap.

·         In addition to a pre-op appointment, this past week I had a physical therapy appointment which went over post-surgery instructions. I need to do one breathing exercise plus a few leg exercises three times a day and walk around in my house every couple hours. These things will help prevent blood clots and make the amount of time I’m draining shorter.

Drain instructions and not using my right arm are the biggest concerns for me. The thought of emptying my drain twice a day worries me. Not using my right arm (and, of course, I am right-handed) is going to make for a dull couple weeks: no writing, no reaching, no lifting. Well, I am allowed to lift a maximum of five pounds with my left hand, but the less lifting the better. The point is that the more I use my right arm, the longer it will take for the drain to run dry, which is the goal. To prepare for being one-handed, I’ve cleaned and decluttered my bedroom and made changes: pajamas and outfits (must be button-up) are hanging in my closet; underwear and socks are in two containers on the bench at the end of my bed because my antique dresser is hard to open.

Before my son leaves for college or work each morning, he will need to pour my water for the day (I use a water purification pitcher and container with spigot.) and two cups of iced coffee from the cold brew pitcher. If I want to have my bed made, he will have to do it. In the evening, he will have to fill the water chamber for my CPAP machine. There are probably other details I’m forgetting, but I’m sure I will remember them after he leaves each day. Plus, of course, he will have to do grocery shopping, laundry, dishes, etc. while I lounge around in my bed or the new lift recliner.

And that leads to the many blessings that have come my way already, which include these:

·         My pastor made me a purple prayer shawl.

·         My brother and his wife sent me a soft throw and a Ninja air fryer.

·         My daughter and son-in-law’s church purchased a lift recliner for me since I will be unable to pull the handle on my regular recliner.

·         My daughter has taken care of phone calls and arrangements for my cat, Tango, and for setting me up for housekeeping services through Elder Care, a local nonprofit.

·         She and her girls gave me a lovely pink box filled with snacks, personal care supplies, a soft throw, and a panda bear. The next day she gave me some additional clothing for my post-surgery recovery.

·         People from my church have already provided rides for me and signed up last Sunday to take me to my four post-operative appointments. One couple is taking me to surgery this Wednesday. And another person has offered to pay a local errand and transportation service if I’m in a pinch to find a ride to a medical appointment.

·         Hopestone Cancer Support Center is providing gas cards and meals. I also received a large cloth bag filled with all kinds of useful things for this cancer journey.

I feel loved and taken care of by family and friends. And by God, of course. I keep getting reminders from him in daily devotional readings that he is near. For example, today’s reading included Isaiah 30:15, “in stillness and in staying quiet, there lies your strength.” That pretty much describes the next month to six weeks of my life.

Whether I blog or not for the next few weeks depends on if I am successful in using the speech to text feature in Microsoft Word. Thank you, friends, for your prayers and your encouraging words.

                               

The Scan and the Plan

Waiting for my connection in the Atlanta airport last Friday, I checked my email and excitedly opened the message from Oklahoma Cancer Specialists and Research Institute (OCSRI). A link led me to my PET scan results. Put into everyday English, they said no spread of cancer. It is confined to my right breast.

“Yes!” I whispered and set about to give the good news via Facebook. What a wonderful way to start a Kentucky weekend with my brother Bob and his family!

 And a grand weekend it was. But this is a cancer blog, so let’s go on to the next thing: today’s appointment with my surgeon. She is kind, professional, and explained things very well. My mind is still spinning several hours later with new information and what it all will mean for the month of September and beyond.

I have an aggressive invasive cancer, likely triple negative again. It is smaller than two centimeters, which means surgery first and then chemotherapy. I won’t know anything about the chemotherapy regimen until well after the surgery.

To prepare for the September 4^th outpatient surgery, I have a lymphedema education appointment on August 27. (That is just in case I develop lymphedema someday due to the removal of one or more lymph nodes.) I should receive a phone call soon to set the pre-op appointment in which various tests are done.

What follows the mastectomy is not what I expected: weekly appointments for the first month. That is the easy part. The harder part will be being laid up for an entire month. Dr. Flynn summed up the activities to which I should limit myself for optimal healing: rest, eating, and personal hygiene. (But no showers.)

There go my plans to work from home. “Typing?” I asked. “That’s not one of the three,” she answered with a smile. Talk about disappointment! But as I’ve thought about it, I will need lots and lots of rest without the pressure of accomplishing anything. Who knows? By the end of September, I might have the mental energy to do some reading.

Still harder is the thought of not seeing my grandchildren for an entire month. They are young enough and rambunctious enough to make visits unwise. No singing “The Wheels on the Bus” and “Patty Cake” complete with motions for 15-year-old Benjamin, who has Down Syndrome and autism. No pretend play with 11-year-old Joelle and 6-year-old Ava. No big hugs that almost knock me over from 9-year-old Josiah, who has autism. And no dancing with 2 ½ year-old Elijah.  I guess we will visit over FaceTime.

And I’m not thrilled by the idea of limiting my blog updates to rest my right arm and chest muscles. Pray for me during the possible silences. As you can see, the reality of giving up my regular routines is hard to bear.

But I must dwell on the positives, which include meals from Hopestone, our local cancer nonprofit. And light housekeeping from another nonprofit, ElderCare. And rides to medical appointments with various friends and acquaintances. And, best of all, the constant company of the Holy Spirit to comfort and encourage me. I’m quite sure there is plenty to learn in long recoveries.

 

               

Brief Update

 Tomorrow (August 14) I will get a whole-body PET scan at OCSRI, Tulsa.

Today

Today I received my diagnosis: high-grade ductal carcinoma in situ. Let me translate.

High-grade means aggressive/fast growing. Ductal carcinoma means cancer that has formed in the milk ducts. In situ means within the ducts.

Dr. Moussa gave me the starting plan: first, OCSRI will call to set up an appointment for a whole-body PET scan asap to determine if the cancer has metastasized (in other words, spread). If I’m all clear, then the next step is a mastectomy.

I’m somewhat shaken by this definitive diagnosis but also relieved to be back in Dr. Moussa’s care.

The drive to and from Tulsa OCSRI was no problem. I spent it praying and singing and praising God. I needed that time.

And I’m looking forward to a week from today when I’ll be on my way to see my brother Bob and his family in Kentucky for the weekend.