Monday morning it all hit me like a ton of bricks.
I recognized I was having a slight panic attack.
That's the odd thing about being a nurse. You see the symptoms. You recognize them. You know what you should be doing.....but then you don't.
I had to force myself to phone up my MD to have her slip me in first thing in the am. One hour from my phonecall I was in her office, blubbering away.
I told her I was feeling out of control and wasn't coping.
This MD is a wonderful caring woman. She actually was the sub-in doc while mine was on vacation. If I wasn't so distraught, her Caribbean accent would have mesmerized me.
She sat and listened and then offered suggestions, stated she couldn't make any promises that everything was going to be fine, but assured me that everything was being done, that could, right now....and I should concentrate on that. She had already faxed the path report to the dermatologist at the Cancer Clinic and also the Plastic surgeon, but she made a point of phoning his office again while I sat there to ensure an appointment for this week.
She suggested taking a couple weeks off work and gave me some zopiclone 7.5mg - and told me to take 1/2 at bedtime as needed.
I told her I was going to take one as soon as I got home.
By the time I filled my RX and picked up some food at the butcher/deli so I didn't have to bother cooking.... there was a message waiting for me on my answering service.
I have an appointment to see the Plastic Surgeon this coming Thursday. Two days from now.
Nurse habits die hard, and I have created a binder with all my bloodwork, path report, melanoma information/charts, mileage tracking (tax deductible), Proof of illness forms for work and a whole list of questions for the doc. If nothing else, I will be very organized.
Meanwhile, I am talking with my girlfriends and getting lots of support.
Of course, the zopiclone helps.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
Day 3 from Ground Zero
Never in a million years did I figure on being a patient. At least, not with this diagnosis. It really puts everything else I have experienced as a patient in perspective.
As a Nurse for 37 years, I have been very healthy, never smoked, never did illegal drugs, ate well, kept in shape (if you don't count the last 5 years! ), didn't gain excess weight (until the last 5 years of more sedentary type nursing - but I think now it might be quite useful when I go through treatment) , always ate healthy - not much in the way of sugars, fats, fast foods or alcohol.
What got me? The good ol' soleil.
It started out about 4 years ago as what I thought was 3 little black heads in a zig zag arrangement. As anyone would do, I picked at them to get rid of the head. They wouldn't go away so I left them alone.
After a couple more years, a little bump started forming right next to them, and since I had had a similar bump on the outside of the nostril part of my nose that I had had removed 2 times already in the last 20 years - biopsied negative - so I didn't think much of it.
I started becoming self conscious of it in the past 1 1/2 years and so when I finally got a family MD in my community (hard to get - we need more MDs!) I asked right away if by looking at it, did she think it was something to worry about? She said no. That was February 2014.
As I mentioned in my previous post, My folks had a couple of disasters happen so they came to live with me for almost a month, so everything to do with me, was put on the back burner.
Finally got around to having it biopsied June 16, 2014. It took 17 days from bx to the phone call from the MD office to tell me to come in to see the MD. I could only get in on Friday, July 4 2014 - just before the weekend.
The news was devastating.
I didn't think of how hard it would hit after the first shock. I have only told my nursing friends, because they will just "get it" a little bit more than my other friends and family. I am keeping family out of the loop for now - especially my mom. She is assuming it's basal cell, just like she and dad have....and I will continue to let her think that. I am not going to be the reason she doubles her ativan dose.
Over this past weekend, I have slipped into my usual coping mode: Not eating very much and losing weight - 5 lbs over 3 days....which kind of worries me a bit because I want to keep some of that weight on reserve for the treatment part - because I know how sick one gets on interferon, if that is the course they choose for me.
Having worked (oh so briefly) in the prison system where 1/2 the population has Hep C - I have seen the results of what can happen in the course of taking Interferon. It's not pretty. And you usually take it over the course of a full year.
That means the rest of this year and possibly part of the next will be a crappy one if that's the direction I am going.
Good side of it all - I am old enough not to worry about saving face.
As a Nurse for 37 years, I have been very healthy, never smoked, never did illegal drugs, ate well, kept in shape (if you don't count the last 5 years! ), didn't gain excess weight (until the last 5 years of more sedentary type nursing - but I think now it might be quite useful when I go through treatment) , always ate healthy - not much in the way of sugars, fats, fast foods or alcohol.
What got me? The good ol' soleil.
It started out about 4 years ago as what I thought was 3 little black heads in a zig zag arrangement. As anyone would do, I picked at them to get rid of the head. They wouldn't go away so I left them alone.
After a couple more years, a little bump started forming right next to them, and since I had had a similar bump on the outside of the nostril part of my nose that I had had removed 2 times already in the last 20 years - biopsied negative - so I didn't think much of it.
I started becoming self conscious of it in the past 1 1/2 years and so when I finally got a family MD in my community (hard to get - we need more MDs!) I asked right away if by looking at it, did she think it was something to worry about? She said no. That was February 2014.
As I mentioned in my previous post, My folks had a couple of disasters happen so they came to live with me for almost a month, so everything to do with me, was put on the back burner.
Finally got around to having it biopsied June 16, 2014. It took 17 days from bx to the phone call from the MD office to tell me to come in to see the MD. I could only get in on Friday, July 4 2014 - just before the weekend.
The news was devastating.
I didn't think of how hard it would hit after the first shock. I have only told my nursing friends, because they will just "get it" a little bit more than my other friends and family. I am keeping family out of the loop for now - especially my mom. She is assuming it's basal cell, just like she and dad have....and I will continue to let her think that. I am not going to be the reason she doubles her ativan dose.
Over this past weekend, I have slipped into my usual coping mode: Not eating very much and losing weight - 5 lbs over 3 days....which kind of worries me a bit because I want to keep some of that weight on reserve for the treatment part - because I know how sick one gets on interferon, if that is the course they choose for me.
Having worked (oh so briefly) in the prison system where 1/2 the population has Hep C - I have seen the results of what can happen in the course of taking Interferon. It's not pretty. And you usually take it over the course of a full year.
That means the rest of this year and possibly part of the next will be a crappy one if that's the direction I am going.
Good side of it all - I am old enough not to worry about saving face.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Post Hiatus - Expecting the worst so I will thank my lucky stars if it's not.
Retirement is just around the corner - but that's not why I came back.
For the last year I have had a little lump of skin growing in the vicinity of what I thought were a couple of little blackheads on my left cheek.
I got worried enough that I finally found an MD to go to in my community - and on examination, she said that the lump didn't look too suspicious.
So I went about my business and forgot about it because it was about then that my mother broke her arm and, she being the sole caretaker of my father who has Parkinson's, I had my brother pick them both up (5 hr drive away) and bring them to my place. To live.
Working full time and taking care of them full time took all my energy and every hour of the day.
Finally, I lined up a removal of the bump June 16th, and my MD sent it off to pathology saying - "If you don't hear from us, you are good to go..."
My mom glibly told me over the phone, "If anything, it will probably only be basal cell like Dad and I have. No problem, your MD will burn them off - we do it all the time - every office visit."
Well, the other day I got the call that made all the July 1st and 4th fireworks seem like one lonely little half-fizzled sparkler.
Diagnoses: "Invasive Malignant Melanoma" and as far as they can tell, it's already Stage 3 and that may be revised once I have more surgery to remove a larger area because the abnormal cells extend right to the edge of the sample.
The doctor said they would line me up fairly quickly with the plastic surgeon and also the Cancer Clinic.
It's strange after 37 years of nursing full time, to be on the other end of the medical system.
I will let you know how it goes.
All I know right now is - it's a difficult wait.
Lucky for me I have quite a few girlfriends who are nurses. They are all volunteering their services if I need them. Hopefully - I won't, but it's nice that they care.
For the last year I have had a little lump of skin growing in the vicinity of what I thought were a couple of little blackheads on my left cheek.
I got worried enough that I finally found an MD to go to in my community - and on examination, she said that the lump didn't look too suspicious.
So I went about my business and forgot about it because it was about then that my mother broke her arm and, she being the sole caretaker of my father who has Parkinson's, I had my brother pick them both up (5 hr drive away) and bring them to my place. To live.
Working full time and taking care of them full time took all my energy and every hour of the day.
Finally, I lined up a removal of the bump June 16th, and my MD sent it off to pathology saying - "If you don't hear from us, you are good to go..."
My mom glibly told me over the phone, "If anything, it will probably only be basal cell like Dad and I have. No problem, your MD will burn them off - we do it all the time - every office visit."
Well, the other day I got the call that made all the July 1st and 4th fireworks seem like one lonely little half-fizzled sparkler.
Diagnoses: "Invasive Malignant Melanoma" and as far as they can tell, it's already Stage 3 and that may be revised once I have more surgery to remove a larger area because the abnormal cells extend right to the edge of the sample.
The doctor said they would line me up fairly quickly with the plastic surgeon and also the Cancer Clinic.
It's strange after 37 years of nursing full time, to be on the other end of the medical system.
I will let you know how it goes.
All I know right now is - it's a difficult wait.
Lucky for me I have quite a few girlfriends who are nurses. They are all volunteering their services if I need them. Hopefully - I won't, but it's nice that they care.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Parkinson's and a Chainsaw plus One Dead Dog.
My mother phones me up in the middle of my night shift sleep to tell me that my brother's dog died up at my sister's farm.
I had asked "What happened?" in response to her cryptic "Poor Boz" that she posted to her Facebook Wall. (Yes, my mother at age 81 has a Facebook account!)
Not a good thing to post without explanation especially when the grand kids who actually own the dog are up late at night - see it - and post the exact same thing I did.
She replied with an even more cryptic "Phone your sister and ask her".....
Apparently he was hit by a car.
Sad story.
You really don't want to know the details - but here it goes anyway.
My idiot brother had bought this Leonberger dog with the intention to breed him because he had this wild idea that he could make some quick money (first mistake) and paid an exorbitant price for the dog that he could ill afford (second mistake).
Of course, it was like flushing the money down the loo because no one had time to spend with him (third mistake), and he became an unruly big untrained bear of a dog - albeit harmless.
It got so no one could handle him, and after a disastrous spill from the back of my brother's truck while driving down the highway (yes, I know. Stupid, stupid. Like I said...and fourth mistake.) and a broken hip later that he allowed to heal on it's own because a vet was too expensive (fifth mistake), Boz was put on my Sister's farm up in northern Alberta to live out his life.
As it so happens, his life he lived out was cut short when he was hit by what was probably the only vehicle to drive by during a huge electrical storm.
Thus the cryptic "Poor Boz" on my mother's FB page.
But that isn't the end of it. In my foggy haze of half asleep/half awake state that we as nurses experience when we get a phone call mid-sleep in mid-day..... I offhandedly asked mom what dad was up to.
"Oh your Uncle is here (Dad's brother, husband of the nearly-drowned aunt) and he and your dad are out cutting wood for the winter."
"You mean.....trees? Those big trees out front??"
"Your dad couldn't get the chainsaw started. They are using a small saw..."
"Wait....what??? Well thank goodness for that, mom. He's got Parkinson's!"
"Don't you worry," mom says casually - honestly believing what she is saying. "He knows what he's doing."
"MOM. I know that he knows what he's doing! But - a chainsaw??? He's got - Parkinson's!! Think about it! Don't you think that's slightly dangerous??"
I have to admit, the nurse in me had to be amused just a teensy bit at the vision that just flashed through my mind. I couldn't help it.
Admit it. You did too!
Parkinson's and a chainsaw.
That's a casualty waiting to happen.
Holy Mackerel. It gives me nightmares thinking about the possibilities.
The bad thing is....it isn't like I could even stop it.
Sometimes we as adult children, have to just stop and take a breath, and let parents be parents.... there is nothing to do but pray they don't harm themselves along the way.
What a reversal.
Wait a minute. I think I posted about that before......
*sigh*
I had asked "What happened?" in response to her cryptic "Poor Boz" that she posted to her Facebook Wall. (Yes, my mother at age 81 has a Facebook account!)
Not a good thing to post without explanation especially when the grand kids who actually own the dog are up late at night - see it - and post the exact same thing I did.
She replied with an even more cryptic "Phone your sister and ask her".....
Apparently he was hit by a car.
Sad story.
You really don't want to know the details - but here it goes anyway.
My idiot brother had bought this Leonberger dog with the intention to breed him because he had this wild idea that he could make some quick money (first mistake) and paid an exorbitant price for the dog that he could ill afford (second mistake).
Of course, it was like flushing the money down the loo because no one had time to spend with him (third mistake), and he became an unruly big untrained bear of a dog - albeit harmless.
It got so no one could handle him, and after a disastrous spill from the back of my brother's truck while driving down the highway (yes, I know. Stupid, stupid. Like I said...and fourth mistake.) and a broken hip later that he allowed to heal on it's own because a vet was too expensive (fifth mistake), Boz was put on my Sister's farm up in northern Alberta to live out his life.
As it so happens, his life he lived out was cut short when he was hit by what was probably the only vehicle to drive by during a huge electrical storm.
Thus the cryptic "Poor Boz" on my mother's FB page.
But that isn't the end of it. In my foggy haze of half asleep/half awake state that we as nurses experience when we get a phone call mid-sleep in mid-day..... I offhandedly asked mom what dad was up to.
"Oh your Uncle is here (Dad's brother, husband of the nearly-drowned aunt) and he and your dad are out cutting wood for the winter."
"You mean.....trees? Those big trees out front??"
"Your dad couldn't get the chainsaw started. They are using a small saw..."
"Wait....what??? Well thank goodness for that, mom. He's got Parkinson's!"
"Don't you worry," mom says casually - honestly believing what she is saying. "He knows what he's doing."
"MOM. I know that he knows what he's doing! But - a chainsaw??? He's got - Parkinson's!! Think about it! Don't you think that's slightly dangerous??"
I have to admit, the nurse in me had to be amused just a teensy bit at the vision that just flashed through my mind. I couldn't help it.
Admit it. You did too!
Parkinson's and a chainsaw.
That's a casualty waiting to happen.
Holy Mackerel. It gives me nightmares thinking about the possibilities.
The bad thing is....it isn't like I could even stop it.
Sometimes we as adult children, have to just stop and take a breath, and let parents be parents.... there is nothing to do but pray they don't harm themselves along the way.
What a reversal.
Wait a minute. I think I posted about that before......
*sigh*
Thursday, August 23, 2012
IF KIDS MADE MOVIES:
If movies were made by your children, this what it would look like:
MOVIE
I wish I could just embed it.
It sure gave me a good laugh, though - especially since I was kept up half the night by the local hooligans, cursing and generally being a nuisance on our street corner.
To think that those teens that threw a huge rock through our window just around midnight were once cute innocent kids at one time, just like the ones in the "movie".
*sigh*
Why did they ever grow up?
I wish I could just embed it.
It sure gave me a good laugh, though - especially since I was kept up half the night by the local hooligans, cursing and generally being a nuisance on our street corner.
To think that those teens that threw a huge rock through our window just around midnight were once cute innocent kids at one time, just like the ones in the "movie".
*sigh*
Why did they ever grow up?
Sunday, August 19, 2012
High School Moms - TLC
My husband's good friend Richard "Ricardo" Esparza was the principal of a high school in Colorado that supported young moms going back to school to graduate.
The show "High School Moms" is on tonight, August 19 - on the TLC channel.
Try to catch it if you can.
I met Richard in Yakima when I was down there visiting my father-in-law in the hospital a few years back... and at that time he was pioneering a successful program in the school he was teaching at in Washington state - where he made it manditory that parents participate in the schooling of their own children - and thus brought the rate of graduation/level of education in that school from "abysmal" to the highest in the nation.
This is what got him in the Colorado school he is featured in on TLC.
Since then, he has moved on to Oregon state, principal of another highschool, continuing with his excellence in teaching.
The system needs more Richard Esparzas.....
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Be Careful What You post! Breastfeeding
I have previously posted a caution on what you should not post on the Internet.
I use Google and various other methods/sources online to vet my renters for my two apartments - successfully I might add.
My lawyer nephew continually admonishes his younger cousins to watch what they post on Facebook because anything you post may as well be published on the front page of a newspaper.
Still, people don't seem to "get it".
There are sickos in this world who will use innocuous video/photos for their own ends.
Take the poor mom who, after successfully breastfeeding, decided that - when approached by a legitimate company: Parent TV - she would participate in the production of a "how to" video for other mothers who were having difficulty breastfeeding.
No matter what the intentions, the video was used in a porn video with her full name attached.
She only discovered this after googling her name. ( I recommend this: do it often!)
She is now attempting, through expensive legal channels to have all video removed and to have the production company held liable for it's alternative use in porn.
Is there nothing that is sacred?
[as you can see, a lot of these videos allow embedding and also downloading]
I use Google and various other methods/sources online to vet my renters for my two apartments - successfully I might add.
My lawyer nephew continually admonishes his younger cousins to watch what they post on Facebook because anything you post may as well be published on the front page of a newspaper.
Still, people don't seem to "get it".
There are sickos in this world who will use innocuous video/photos for their own ends.
Take the poor mom who, after successfully breastfeeding, decided that - when approached by a legitimate company: Parent TV - she would participate in the production of a "how to" video for other mothers who were having difficulty breastfeeding.
No matter what the intentions, the video was used in a porn video with her full name attached.
She only discovered this after googling her name. ( I recommend this: do it often!)
She is now attempting, through expensive legal channels to have all video removed and to have the production company held liable for it's alternative use in porn.
Is there nothing that is sacred?
[as you can see, a lot of these videos allow embedding and also downloading]
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Head Injuries in Sports
I have posted before on violence in sports - specifically head injuries - and how much I hate the deliberateness of some of these injuries in a game.
Usually I am talking about Hockey. Or Football.
Today it's soccer.
I was as upset as anyone else in Canada with the refereeing during the USA/CAN game the other day.
HOWEVER.
After all was over and done with, I went to youtube and found this:
Melissa Tencredi (Canada) stomping on the head of the USA player Carli Lloyd during that same game. It appears to be deliberate, but who knows? Maybe it was accidental.
If it was deliberate, it certainly tarnishes their Bronze medal win for me.
Mittens and Flip Flops.
Didn't you just love those 2010 Olympic Mittens?
Well, I have myself a really nice pair of Summer Olympic Flip flops!!
So Cool!
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Accidental Nursing: It could have been worse I guess.
You may have read my previous posts on "Accidental Nursing" where I have ended up using my nursing skills as a "Good Samaritan".
Here is another "Accidental Nursing" story from this past month.
I was busy working in my office and my husband slips a note under my door.
We had just lost our wonderful BC Ambulance renter to a house purchase, and now a temporary immigrant farm worker (Male, American caucasian with a Master's degree in Organic Farming in case you were jumping to conclusions) making big bucks in Canada was renting our Carriage house.
I put my work on hold and ran upstairs to check it out.
The dog greeted me at the door. "Hey there, pups!" I rub his ears.
Our renter's girlfriend swung the door wide open. "I can't believe it - I fainted!!!!"
Me: "Did you hit your head?"
GF: "No...."
Me: "OK then, where's the patient??"
She pointed to our renter, sitting with legs spread-eagled, slumped over a chair seat and the cupboards - pale as my morning latte. He's holding his thumb.
At this point I am thinking "OMG, he has sliced his finger off!!!"
The offending knife is lying on the counter with a host of veggies.
"Let me see it." I take charge. I need to - they are both near hysterical.
He takes the wad of toilet paper off to reveal this:
Well, OK. This isn't his thumb. He's a big guy.
I drew on my own thumb to illustrate - and re-enact it for my husband and this blog.
My husband went into hysterics when I retold the story. He has had 3 finger injuries, the first where he burned off all his skin with hot 500 degree wax, the second where he had a crush injury with starburst fracture of all fingers and the last where he eventually lost his fingernails.
A tiny superficial cut like our renters was small potatoes in my husband's books....and mine for that matter.
Of course I reacted in the way any nurse would do.
"Of COURSE you don't need to go to ED and get stitches," I laughed. "Steri-strips won't even hold that flap closed - it's only a tiny cut!"
But, like a good nurse, I got out my supply of steri-strips and a knuckle bandage and taped him up, giving instructions to see an MD if it looked infected down the road.
I was trusting his information that he was able to clean it well. Seeing how it was an injury with a knife and not one of his dirty farm implements, I told him he would be OK if he had had his tetanus immunization in the last 10 years.
Within 10 minutes....I was back to work....leaving the patient still slumped on the floor in his apartment, GF helicoptering around him.
Can you imagine this guy showing up at the local Emergency Department? (I'll bet you can!)
They should thank me.
Oh.
And our renter now?
When we had them over the other night for dinner (wound beautifully healed I must say!) and he offered to make a salad, I declined with sincere thanks.
I didn't want him going anywhere near a knife that was going to cut veggies I was going to eat!
Here is another "Accidental Nursing" story from this past month.
I was busy working in my office and my husband slips a note under my door.
We had just lost our wonderful BC Ambulance renter to a house purchase, and now a temporary immigrant farm worker (Male, American caucasian with a Master's degree in Organic Farming in case you were jumping to conclusions) making big bucks in Canada was renting our Carriage house.
I put my work on hold and ran upstairs to check it out.
The dog greeted me at the door. "Hey there, pups!" I rub his ears.
Our renter's girlfriend swung the door wide open. "I can't believe it - I fainted!!!!"
Me: "Did you hit your head?"
GF: "No...."
Me: "OK then, where's the patient??"
She pointed to our renter, sitting with legs spread-eagled, slumped over a chair seat and the cupboards - pale as my morning latte. He's holding his thumb.
At this point I am thinking "OMG, he has sliced his finger off!!!"
The offending knife is lying on the counter with a host of veggies.
"Let me see it." I take charge. I need to - they are both near hysterical.
He takes the wad of toilet paper off to reveal this:
Well, OK. This isn't his thumb. He's a big guy.
I drew on my own thumb to illustrate - and re-enact it for my husband and this blog.
My husband went into hysterics when I retold the story. He has had 3 finger injuries, the first where he burned off all his skin with hot 500 degree wax, the second where he had a crush injury with starburst fracture of all fingers and the last where he eventually lost his fingernails.
A tiny superficial cut like our renters was small potatoes in my husband's books....and mine for that matter.
Of course I reacted in the way any nurse would do.
"Of COURSE you don't need to go to ED and get stitches," I laughed. "Steri-strips won't even hold that flap closed - it's only a tiny cut!"
But, like a good nurse, I got out my supply of steri-strips and a knuckle bandage and taped him up, giving instructions to see an MD if it looked infected down the road.
I was trusting his information that he was able to clean it well. Seeing how it was an injury with a knife and not one of his dirty farm implements, I told him he would be OK if he had had his tetanus immunization in the last 10 years.
Within 10 minutes....I was back to work....leaving the patient still slumped on the floor in his apartment, GF helicoptering around him.
Can you imagine this guy showing up at the local Emergency Department? (I'll bet you can!)
They should thank me.
Oh.
And our renter now?
When we had them over the other night for dinner (wound beautifully healed I must say!) and he offered to make a salad, I declined with sincere thanks.
I didn't want him going anywhere near a knife that was going to cut veggies I was going to eat!
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