In Anticipation of Alopecia

I’m not a cap person.  I do love real hats, though– the kind with brims and decorations; the pillbox, the Victorian tophat, etc.  But caps emphasize the smallness of my particular head by hugging it close, and the imperative wearing of spectacles does not enhance this image.  Be that as it may, I must learn to wear caps because hats are going to be 1) too heavy and 2) too rough.

Knowing that alopecia is less than three weeks away, and wanting to add to the lovely cloche that my friend Carol knit for me,  I looked around in my stash for the softest yarn I could find that would be suitable for a knitted cap, but that wouldn’t take me a year to knit.  I came across some that I had bought from Judith MacKenzies at a past weaving workshop.  She dyed it herself, after having had it spun at a mill while researching buffalo and silk combinations (at least that’s how I remember it– I could be totally making this up).  It seemed soft in the ball, so I cast on and knit this:

I’m not thrilled with it.  The yarn was fine, the colors gorgeous, but it has some guard hairs in it which will prickle my scalp, and the style turned out to be oh-s0-not-flattering.

So I went to the Weaving Works and searched for the softest yarns there.  The first one I’m knitting with is Leche, a very soft blend of merino, microfiber, milk protein and silk.  Since I took a brioche knitting class at Madrona, I decided to put the knowledge to use by knitting the Waterlooplein watch cap from the book Knitting Brioche.  I am absolutely loving the pattern, and I think the layers of spongy softness will add dimension to my head as well as keeping it warm.  Also, it is very reversible, as you can see in the second picture.

I haven’t posted many pictures of the fur family lately, so here is a gratuitous photo of Stonewall, now about ten months old and a faithful companion.

While at Madrona I purchased several braids of beautifully dyed merino top  from The Artful Ewe ; luscious colors that are a dream to spin.  I’ve started with the gold.

So, I am keeping busy, trying not to dwell too much on chemotherapy side effects other than to prepare for them*.  I picked up all the drugs that my oncologist prescribed.  One is a steroid.  It will make me cranky and sleepless and hungry.  Another is a sleeping/anxiety/nausea drug that will help with the crankiness and sleeplessness and the nausea that I will get when I eat because I’m hungry because of the steroids.  If that isn’t enough, there is another drug for worse nausea, and yet another for really really worse nausea.  All this along with pain pills for post-surgical pain (see below) and regular sleeping pills (sleep eludes me).

I will have surgery again on Tuesday (same time, same place, same surgeon) to insert a port-a-cath beneath my skin just under my collarbone.  I think it looks sort of like one of those old-fashioned desk buzzers.  It will stay there until I’m all done with chemo.  If anyone mentions the weird bump, I plan to start violently, pretend I’ve never seen it before and scream “Get it out! Get it out!”.   I will rub some numbing cream on it an hour before they wish to “access” my veins, and then they’ll just poke a needle through it.  I’m pretty sure this is the first step in being assimilated into the Borg.  Probably all of my veins will turn into plastic tubes, and my nerves will turn into wires.  They may even have a USB port alongside the needle to enhance networking.  I’ll ask my internal communications station to send you an email.

*In case you are interested in what the side effects are, they include alopecia (hair loss), nausea, extreme fatique, low white cell count (they will give me a shot of Neulasta the day after each chemo treatment to help this), mouth sores, nausea, skin rashes, neuropathy (numbness and soreness of fingertips usually), nausea,  constipation or diarrhea,  nail weakening and potential loss, and did I mention nausea?  But the main effect is to kill rapidly dividing (aka cancer) cells, and that one trumps them all.  These side effect should diminish and disappear just in time for the next chemo treatment (well, all except for the gone hair!).

It could be a lot worse.

24

Remember the tv show 24, starring Kiefer Sutherland?  Remember how every episode covered one actual hour in a terror- and suspense-filled, action-packed drama?  I loved that show.

But I didn’t really like the most recent personal episode of “24″, because that was what my oncotype score turned out to be.  This is precisely in the middle, and so I will need to increase my chances of survival by allowing the nice doctors to pour a frothy mix of two different lethal chemicals into my veins four times, each three weeks apart.  Followed by 33 radiation treatments.

If all goes well, I should recover in time to greet the beginning of Seattle’s summer, at the end of July, appropriately attired in no hair.

I’m sure I will write a fantastic post about Madrona soon, but I thought I’d catch you up on the latest meaning of the number of hours in a day first.

Brussels Sprouts and Turtle

(If you want to skip the cancer part and go straight to the knitting, just look for the turtle).

Every day shows improvement in my post-surgery pain and mobility.  I severely underestimated the recovery time– I thought by now I’d be entirely mobile and pain-free.  The pain isn’t now normally an issue, unless I do something extraordinary like, oh, chopping the ends off of Brussels sprouts.  I still can’t lie on either side (so my back is killing me), drive (I drive a 5-speed) or lift things over 5 pounds (no picking up cats or dogs, which is hard for them to understand).  But I am looking forward to going to Madrona!  Brian will drive me down, do all the lifting and get me settled in my hotel room.  Then I can go to classes or hang out to knit or spin with 800 of my closest friends, or go back to my room and rest as needed.

The next step is to get the results from an OncotypeDX  test, which analyzes 21 genes from sections of my tumor.   The results are scored from 1 to 100; the higher the score the more likely the cancer is to recur.  The recurrence rate as predicted by the test refers to “distant” cancer in 10 years; distant meaning mestasticized and evil, thus I believe this test to be of great value.  Using the results and applying the biostatistics to my personal situation (taking into account all my pathology results), the oncologist will be able to make a better decision about treatment.  If I score too highly, I’ll have to do chemo.  So please pray for a score of, say, ZERO.

My OncotypeDX results won’t be complete until the 17th, but my appointment with my oncologist is scheduled for the 14th and seems to be difficult to move to a reasonable date after the 17th.   It would be better if we had the results, but at least he can give me some what-if scenarios so that when I get the score I’ll have a better idea of what it means for me.

The oncotype test is appropriate only for breast cancer patients who have no lymph node involvement, are estrogen-receptor positive (ER+), are HER2 negative, and who will be taking hormone-blocking drugs (like Tamoxifen) for five years after surgery and radiation. That would be me.  (ER+ cancers feed on estrogen, so drugs that prevent the body from processing it can help to prevent recurrence).

Low scores (47% of women) usually indicate no chemo, high scores (any score over 31, 27% of women) indicate chemo for sure, and middle scores (25% of women) usually do take chemo but this is at the discretion of the doctor and the patient. My meandering through breast cancer forums indicates that most women in the middle go for the chemo– nobody likes to take chances. However, I have read of several women who had very low scores and still had recurrence, so this is still not an exact science.

 

I have been knitting, of course.

I knit a turtle for the On the Shore design (I previously knit a duck and a fish).

After my Traveling Sweater Disaster of 2011, which I still haven’t had the heart to start over, a friend of mine told me about the Swirl book, which is full of circular sweaters done in a different way than the Traveling.

As I told my favorite Ravelry forum, the only thing that would make me cast on 737 stitches (for the Roses and Ribbons design, minus the fringed yarn) on a 3.0 mm needle is drugs. Since I was full of them, I did it. I found in my stash some Berocco Alpaca Light in the Lobster Mix colorway and Marion Foale 3-ply in Aubergine, and they go very well together.

The swirl is decreased every five rows by 16 stitches, so as it grows, the number of stitches isn’t quite so overwhelming.  This picture does not show the true color, which is more of a port wine, but it’s the best I could do at the time.  If it were blocked at this point, the length would be about five inches, but the welts as knitted draw up like ribbing.

 

“Incisive, sharp, effective” — Twin Globe Reporter

The performance has ended and results are in for the newest Indie film, “Thanks for the Mammaries”, directed by Virginia Mason Team Medicine at Lindeman Hall.  Dr. Janie Grumley, starring in the role of lead oncoplastic surgeon, delivered a stunningly perfect performance while I, playing  breast cancer victim Sheila Leverson, was “totally realistic” in my role as anesthetized patient under her knife.  Andrea the Anesthesiologist and Amy the Nurse were lauded as top supporting actors, delivering high quality painkillers at the end of the plot.

The top two “All Clear” awards went to: Lymph Nodes! and to Margins!  The Tumor, playing itself,  received the worst score for having Doubled In Size from what it was supposed to be, and has not been asked back for a repeat performance.

Critics are divided over whether this drama will have one or two sequels.  Some say that “The Geiger Sanction: Three Fortnights of Hell” will be the next and only film in the series, while others argue that, due to the size of that Tumor, “Chemosabe” will be the second of a trilogy, followed by “The Geiger Sanction”.  The truth shall be made clear when onocologists and patient meet at the St. Valentine’s Day Summit of 2012.  Meanwhile, Dr. Grumley and her patient will be reunited tomorrow for a review of the action and to be sure no ill effects were suffered during the filming of the show.  Leverson is recovering at home, where the “girls”, Letitia and Priscilla, though slightly diminished, are healing well and looking forward to getting out of show business.

Women Glow*

I feel sort of like the condemned man the day before his execution, though it is ludicrous.  Maybe more appropros if the condemned man is only losing his (fill in the blank).  Hand? Leg? Fingers?

Actually, in the scheme of things, if I have to lose a body part, I’ll gladly join the Amazon women and lose a breast.  It will purportedly help me draw my bow better so that I can more effectively knock large charging enemy men off their horses.  But in my case (and I am grateful for it) it will only be part of a breast, so maybe I’ll only be able to knock small boys off their ponies.

So yes, tomorrow is surgery.  Today I will go in to the hospital and get radioactive dye injected into my body so that I will light up on the surgeon’s tricorders to show her the way to the nearest lymph nodes.  I wonder if my veins will glow in the dark.

I have been truly blessed with encouragement, cards, gifts, company, jokes, messages and all other manner of support from my friends near and far.  It means a lot to me.  Thank you.

 

*Horses sweat; men perspire; women glow.

Before

Let’s see.

1. Approximately one year ago today I was in a large city (Memphis) that normally does not get snow, but had lots of snow.
2. This week I have been in a large city (my own Seattle) that normally does not get snow, but had lots and lots and lots of snow.
3. Approximately one year ago I was spending a whole lot of time in the Happy Hour Hospital with my mom who, thankfully, has fully recovered.
4. This week, and again next week, I have been/will be spending a whole lot of time in the Virginia Mason hospital with– well, myself.
5. Approximately one year ago I escaped the Happy Hour Hospital for just an hour or two of relaxation at Yarniverse, still one of my fondest memories.
6. Next week I probably won’t be able to knit for a few days, but I’ll just think about escaping.  To Ireland,  Quebec,  Italy or perhaps rural France.

See any parallels there?

Now as far as names go,  the “Virginia Mason” hospital  doesn’t have quite the ring as the “LeBonheur” (Happy Hour), but I like to think of a bricklayer from one of the southern states as the inspiration  (which is totally false, but these are my little  fantasies).  Perhaps the Mason’s actual name was something perky like Melvin Teaprattle (remember him?).

So people ask me how I’m holding up.  Honestly, except for being a human pincushion for the last couple of weeks and sporting some really marvelous bruises, at first I didn’t feel much different than I did before the apocalyptic appointment.  Then, last Wednesday,  I was asked to report to the 2nd floor of the Buck Pavilion (part of the Virginia Mason complex), and discovered when I did so that I was at the Floyd and Dolores Jones Cancer Institute.  That hit me pretty hard, seeing as I was the patient.

Bit by bit I’m starting to absorb that all this is happening.  But really, I hope it’s all over before I really believe it.

Here’s me being Jamie Lee, lipstick on.  I’m thinking of this as the “Before” picture.  I hope to have the “After” picture all ready by the end of April, with hair, eyebrows and eyelashes still intact.

The Importance of Lipstick

When I was growing up, women wore lipstick.  If they didn’t have lipstick on, you knew they were either sick, depressed, or under some sort of stress that caused them to forget to put on their face.  Lipstick was as much a sign of respect for other people as it was an indication of their own self-esteem.

Throughout the years, this has changed, and women go without makeup, or without lipstick, or with “lip-colored” lipstick which is somehow supposed to be better than real lip color.  I have chosen to live up to some people’s characterization of me as a “charm-school southern belle type” by maintaining my war paint.  This has caused me to be the brunt of jokes at times (always from other women), but it is sort of a signature for me, like a particular type of fragrance might be a signature for someone else.  The fact that I work in a male-dominated field only causes me to adhere more ferociously to my femininity.  At times I will make an appearance at some function where women are prevalent, and one by one I see them slip out to the restroom to apply their own lipstick.

In the past few days, as I rushed out of the house for a myriad of early-morning appointments destined to deliver pain, I was careful to don the lipstick.  Indeed, in an effort to cheer myself up, I had bought a couple of very cheery pink shades that are particularly bright but not garish.  I look in the mirror and I see a person with enough optimism and confidence that she has not forgotten her appearance.  The day I forget my lipstick is the day you should start worrying about me.  I was particularly pleased when my hairstylist, whom I chartered to style my hair after Jamie Lee Curtis, said after she was done, “with this type of hairstyle you can do big lips or big eyes or whatever you want”.

So it was that yesterday I,  my wonderful husband, my JLC hair and my lipstick faced the panel of doctors that will be providing my care for the next few months.  Without exception, they were professional, competent, caring and willing to answer any and all questions.  Questions were few, however, because they gave us such complete and thoughtful  information.  There are still a lot of “it depends” answers to future treatment.  The dependent factor will be the results of the partial mastectomy and sentinel node biopsy that will occur on January 31.

On the right breast, they had to do an MRI-guided biopsy.  This involved the same contraption as the breast MRI, but lasted an hour and  a half.  In addition, a plastic plate was set up perpendicular to my sternum, and then a plastic grid was placed on the other side, and these plates were compressed toward each other.  I was slid into and out of the oven many times while the dye was injected and the suspicious spot was pinpointed.  The radiologist played “Battleship” by locating on the grid the place where she would insert the “introducer”, through which she would then  insert a long needle and take tissue samples.

All this time I was in the Flying Superman position, arms outstretched over my head, lying very, very still.  I amused myself by singing “One little, two little, three little Indians…”– you know the song, right?  But to make me have to focus more, I prescribed that the counting should be done in different languages.  French, Spanish, German, Swedish.  I found that my skills had deteriorated somewhat, but by having to retrieve the right translation, I was sufficiently distracted from the procedure that it eventually ended.  Recovery from this biopsy has been much more arduous that the ultrasound biopsy, but I will refrain from regaling you with the details.

Initial results from the biopsy came in while I was conferring with my surgeon, and they show the area is benign!  This is wonderful news.  Still, both breasts will undergo surgery so that I don’t have to undergo a second surgery to make things match.

Meanwhile, before the biopsy, I was able to ply my dorset singles.  I’m incredibly happy with the crisp bounciness of this 4-ply yarn, which is going to be excellent for texture.  Unfortunately, I didn’t wind it into a ball, and now I will either have to bat my eyelashes fetchingly at my husband and ask him to do it, or wait another couple of days before I am able.  I was aiming at a fingering weight, but it came out more like a DK, I think.  I won’t really know until I’ve swatched it.  From 8.5 ounces of roving I got about 580 yards of 4-ply.

The Brutal Telling

An MRE is a Meal Ready to Eat.  These are inedible rations they give to military members to sustain them in the field.  Apparently the soldiers are so hungry they taste like ambrosia.

An MRS is a degree one who attends Mississippi University for Women is often said to be earning.   This is possibly because there is a large supply of eligible bachelors at the nearby pilot training base.

An MRI is Magnetic Resonance Imaging, accomplished by a giant tube of magnetism into which a person undergoing scrutiny for various anomalies is slid like a loaf of bread into an oven.  Jackhammer noises ensue, and the body is photographed in slices.  At the same time, a dye creeps into the blood through an IV so that the images will show the monsters the doctors need to see, if they are there.

They were there.

In the breast MRI, a woman is laid face down onto the table, which is similar to a massage table in that it has the face rest, but different  in that it has large holes cut out in the appropriate position for the appendages in question.  (Honestly,  I think real massage tables should have this feature.)

According to the coordinator who phoned me with the results, both breasts “lit up”, indicating that I am the winner of the so-called breast cancer jackpot.  So I will be returning for a targeted ultrasound on Monday, followed either immediately by another needle biopsy, this time on the right, or scheduled for an MRI-assisted biopsy if ultrasound isn’t powerful enough to guide the radiologist.  One wonders why they would even bother with a biopsy at this point, and I intend to ask that very question at the appropriate time.

Meanwhile, my good friend Pamela offered her skills at research, which I happily accepted.  Among other much appreciated information, she provided me with a link to the best site out there for breast cancer:  the Dr. Susan Love Research Foundation.  It gives forthright and current information, though the telling is sometimes brutal.  I should not have started reading it right before bedtime the night before my MRI.  I was able to navigate through “newly diagnosed”, “invasive” to get a ton of information, and because of that I was not exactly surprised that I had won the MRI jackpot.  Lobular carcinoma is very difficult to detect, and once it shows up on a mammogram it is probably 8-9 years old and it is very possible it has spread to other areas of the body.  These ares might have been taken care of by the immune system, but since there is no way of knowing, chemotherapy is usually prescribed.  This I was hoping to avoid, but at least I know the reason, if it turns out that I can’t.

I expect that I’ll go “under the knife” within the next 2-3 weeks.

On the fiber arts front, I’ve been spinning away on my little Hansen eSpinner.  I was so in love with the poll dorset yarn from Renaissance Dyeing that I bought 8 ounces of some poll dorset roving to see if I could produce a similar yarn.  I divided the roving into four 2-ounce lengths and spun them onto four separate bobbins.  Right now they are resting, and tomorrow I will ply them and possibly dye them, and they will grow up to be socks!

There is an eSpinner group on Ravelry (of course) and through it I learned of the most marvelous bag to use to tote my spinner around:  a Zuca.  It is the sports bag, which will hold bobbins, lazy kate and fiber, with a cooler bag on top for the actual spinner.  You can actually sit on the metal frame, but I would set the spinner on top instead.  Do you think they’ll let me spin from my hospital bed?

I’m Fine, Thanks– Except for the Cancer

Ever since last Wednesday, I’ve been composing blog posts in my mind.  It seemed to soothe my sleeplessness and give me a direction for my thoughts other than What Might Be.

In these imaginary blog posts I was by turn witty, sober, clever, insightful, blunt, whiney and silly.  I don’t know how this real post will turn out, but I thought you should know that those imaginary ones were amazing!

So here’s the thing:  months ago I made an appointment for a physical to be conducted on January 4, 2012.    I was waiting for the first of the year to pass so that my new insurance would kick in.  My main goal was to get something done about my back issues.  The back was behaving badly ever since the weeding marathons of June 2011, and something had to be done.

My doctor, my wonderful doctor, gave me a referral to a physical therapist for the back, a lab order for routine blood work, a referral for a colonoscopy and a referral for a mammogram (things you do at the advanced age of 50ish).

I had never had a mammogram before.  I was smug in the knowledge that I had no family history of breast cancer, no lumps or bumps, and I had breastfed all my babies, at least for a few weeks.  Smug, I say.  So, while I was already at the clinic, I scheduled one.  They got me in immediately.

Three mammograms, two ultrasounds and one biopsy later, it was Friday.  I waited until Tuesday for the results, and got them.

Smug was wiped off my silly face.

Invasive Lobular carcinoma, estrogen-receptive positive. Cancer.

I’ll get an MRI  and meet with a panel of surgeons and oncologists in the next few days and see what the options are.

The back doesn’t bother me so much any more.

A Tale of 2.25 mm Needles

I’ve been knitting for a long time– ever since at the age of eight, armed with one red and one white skein of Red Heart Acrylic, I took a knitting class at the local YMCA.  Therefore it might not surprise you to know that I own a lot of knitting needles, in all permutations, materials, sizes and state.  But it surprised me that not long ago,  I did not have the one size I needed– 2.25 mm.

2.25 and 2.75 mm are not commonly stocked in stores in the U.S.  My mad dash to one of the local yarn stores saw me bringing home what I thought was 2.25, only it turned out to be 2.5 because I had assumed that the next highest size after 2.0 would be 2.25 and I was, sadly, mistaken.

So began my hunt for 2.25 mm needles.  These were to be used to knit ganseys, so they needed to be strong and either a) circular 24″ or 32″ or b) doublepointed, and long.   Over the course of a week I had found and ordered:

1. Two 2.25 mm 32″ Addi Turbo circulars from a seller on Ebay.
2. Two 2.25 mm 32″ Chiao Goo circulars from a seller on Ebay
3. Four sets of five 16″ double-pointed steel needles from Frangipani in Great Britain, one of which was 2.25 mm.
4. One case of 11 sets, 5 each of 14″ steel double-pointed needles from a Chinese seller on Ebay, one set of which was 2.25 — for $0.99.  That’s right– 99 cents.
5. Two cases of 14 sets, 5 each, of 16″ steel double-pointed needles from a different Chinese seller on Ebay, one set of which was 2.25 mm — for about $28 for each set.
6. As an honorable mention, I enquired at Signature Needles as to whether they could provide 16″ double-points.  They replied in the affirmative, but said they would cost about $250.00 per set.

I knew I was taking a gamble on the Chinese needles.  I knew that what seemed too good to be true probably was.  And I was so right.  Both sets of needles from China are utterly useless.

They cannot possibly be steel, and even if you are not telekinetic they will bend if you look at them.  The only positive thing I can say is that at least the red “velvet” case will be nice to hold future sets of real steel needles.

The needles from Frangipani were real steel needles.  They are sharp, have a nice heft to them and remain straight when stared at.  I don’t have a picture here because it would not serve any purpose– they look the same as the Chinese needles, but they are the genuine article!  However, I am still awaiting the knitting belt I ordered from the Shetland Islands a few weeks ago, and without that I can’t use them.

The Addi turbos were ho-hum.  The annoying thing about them was the cable, which kept kinking up.  I know, I know– I should run some hot water over them and they will be tamed, but I do not keep hot water in my knitting spot and do not believe that circular needles should have to be treated in order to behave.

So I eyed the Chiao Goos a bit warily.  They have a bend at the end of each tip that I thought would be annoying, but their red cable lay nicely in my lap as I cast on.  The needle material is smooth and slick, and the points are nice.  I have decided that these are my most favorite needle for knitting at a small gauge.  Yes, they are Chinese too, but made with a quality not even comparable to the cheap ones from Ebay.  They are the ones that I am using for Cape Cod.

Speaking of Cape Cod, it is like popcorn.  I just can’t seem to put it down and it grows very slowly but surely.  I am almost to the end of my first skein of Renaissance Poll Dorset, and I am still utterly in love with this yarn.

On the Saturday before Christmas, I decided that since a) I needed new socks and b) I had sock yarn I should c) knit a pair of socks before New Years.  Amazingly enough, I did it.  I used Cat Bordhi’s book New Pathways for Sock Knitting and the Riverbed architecture and they fit so perfectly that I immediately cast on for another pair.

2012 may turn out to be the year for socks and spinning, for I’ve also got Fortuna out and started her spinning again with a silk/merino blend purchased from The Artful Ewe at Madrona two years ago.