Let The Battle Begin ...

Metastatic Breast Cancer Day: To a Brighter Tomorrow

2011-10-13T22:48:00.000-07:00

On October 12, 2007, I kissed my 11-week old newborn goodbye as I left him with my mom and dad while Rigo checked me into Stanford Hospital for my bilateral mastectomy surgery. After a 12-hour surgery, I was rolled into the recovery room and officially declared myself "cancer-free." Incredible to think that yesterday I celebrated 4-years of being cancer-free. Some days, October 12, 2007, feels like an eternity ago; other days, it feels like yesterday. To mark this special day, Blake and I played hooky and spent the entire day together with eating corn dogs and shaved ice and enthralled by the pig races and muttin' bustin' at the Big Fresno Fair. There's no other way I'd rather have spent the day. Life is good.

Unless you live under a rock, you probably know it's National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The pink is splattered everywhere. So much so, it even makes me a little pink-nauseous. (Truth be told, I never really liked pink.) Nonetheless, I find it refreshing whenever I see my family, friends and strangers pitching in to help bring us a step closer to the long overdue cure that's needed.

All in all, I am doing incredibly well. I am healthy and happy. But for the last few weeks and months, my heart has been exceptionally heavy for my friends. Perhaps it's inevitable that the longer I'm part of this cancer world, the more people I will meet who have cancer recurrences and, in some cases, ultimately on the losing end of cancer. But that may also be what's so dang hard about this cancer culture. The beast of cancer is so unforgiving.

Anyone who knows me knows I handle my own journey with cancer very matter-of-fact. It is what it is and I am okay with that. If I'm not okay with it, I'll figure it out and make it work. Reconstruction revision surgeries. I can deal. Early onset menopause. Again, deal. Long-term chemotherapy side-effects like chemo-brain. Dealing. All of this issues are mine to deal with and to a certain extent, in my control. My support system with my medical team, great insurance coverage, my family, my friends, my work. I have an amazing team in place to help me maneuver life after cancer as smoothly as possible and for me it's all do-able. Even on the tough days or the tough weeks, I go to bed at night knowing that odds are tomorrow will probably be a better day.

The security of knowing tomorrow will be a better day isn't always the case for my friends living with and battling through metastatic breast cancer, breast cancer that's spread beyond the breast. In fact, while the month of October is Breast Cancer Awareness Day, today is Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day. Despite the flood of support for breast cancer awareness around the country, seen on TV, in the stores and heard on the radio, the numbers continue to startle me, as a breast cancer survivor. Every year, over 40,000 people in the United States will die from breast cancer. This number is unnerving for me, but I could only imagine how daunting it is for my friends living in the world of metastatic breast cancer. It's TOO many. The realist in me knows death is certain. But in 2011, death to metastatic breast cancer is unacceptable. We need a cure for breast cancer. Now. We need more effective treatment and targeted therapies. Now. If my friends want to fight, dammit, we should let them fight. To tell these women, "sorry, we are all out of options" is simply unconscionable. The reality of metastatic breast cancer is much more troubling than the worse case of pink overload.

Continue doing what you do and then pause and ask yourself, "what else can I do?" Odds are you aren't that far removed from cancer, but even if you are, keep doing and then do some more. Read about breast cancer. Practice self exams. Talk about the issues. Ask questions. Run. Walk. Fundraise. Donate. And at the end of the day, go to bed hoping for a better tomorrow. I wish you all a happy and healthy October and a brighter tomorrow.

http://www.mbcn.org/

Holding My Breath

2011-09-01T08:35:00.001-07:00

It's been a long time. So where do I begin? Fortunately for me, I am *lucky* to say that 'no news is good news.' I've been busy living life. Better yet, I haven't been (too) busy living with cancer.

My baby is a baby no more! Blaker turned 4 a few weeks ago and is back in preschool. He is the big kid on campus returning to Willow International Community College at the Child Development Center for his second year. He also spends three days a week in Speech Programs through Fresno State and Clovis Unified and sure is thriving. Let's just say for having only one kid, I sure spend a lot of time driving Blaker between schools. (I know Mom: having one kid doesn't even count!) Blake literally wakes up every morning with a smile on his face. Rigo and I like to sneak in on him when he sleeps and no joke, my baby sleeps with a tiny smile on his face. He is hands-down the happiest little person I have ever met in my life.

My plan to stay home with Blaker until he was in school fulltime didn't run according to plan, and for us, that's a good thing. We have gotten to spend an incredible amount of priceless time together enjoying the little things and smelling the roses. Weekly zoo and library visits. Daily dips in the pool. All three of us. And it's fair to say that Rigo and I have been able to shape a completely different lifestyle for our little family than when I found myself in private practice and the DA's Office.

But last year, I went to Los Angeles for a Cancer Rights Conference to get some MCLE (continuing education) units. The one-day conference was full of information on how the law can help protect cancer patients and survivors. As much as I am involved in the cancer community, I didn't realize an organization of attorneys working on behalf of people with cancer existed, let alone just a few hours down the road. One thing led to another and I quickly found myself back to work as a staff attorney for the Cancer Legal Resource Center.

The transition was tough. Very tough. Going from working at the DA's Office --> to being a stay at home (admittedly, transitioning to this role may have been the most difficult for me) --> to working in (yes, *in*) LA fulltime for nearly 6 months --> working from home for the CLRC. And meanwhile, I've been fortunate to keep my classes at City. The dust has finally settled. Hence, a blog post. The short of it is I'm back to work and I love the work. We are wrapping up the last few details for our Cancer Rights Conferences in Washington, DC in two weeks and Ann Arbor, MI in October. (shameless plug: http://www.cancerrightsconference.org/)

Who would've thunk, a year later? I hate to give cancer any credit, but I am confident that I wouldn't be here but for my journey with cancer. The fact that I am still practicing law and doing it from home for group whose mission and purpose I hold close to my heart is nothing short of remarkable. During treatment, I was lost about what my future held, for my health, family and career. Somehow over the last two years, it has all seemingly come together. There have been many a times that I find myself still holding my breath, cautious about fulling embracing that we've come full circle along this journey, but I'm slowly letting some air out, little by little.

2011 has been a tough year of bad news: many recurrences, new diagnoses, loss of loved ones, and hurt for my family and friends who are bearing the brunt of the economy with the loss of their jobs and homes. It's ugly. I'm glad Blaker is too little to have any worries. I am constantly sending good thoughts in a hundred different directions, for the same network of support that held my hand and carried us through to today. Oh, if only good thoughts could fix the bad and cure the ugly. Good thoughts, good thoughts, good thoughts.

Our reality is perfect, today. I am healthy. I continue to have no evidence of disease. <> But I realize reality doesn't always match up "according to plan." For that, I will continue to live each day to the fullest enjoying the ups and downs along the way. Perhaps it's inevitable that I will forever hold a sense of cautious optimism to all that I encounter? We are healthy and happy today. And that is all we can ask for. Thank you for today. Today, life is good.

Whew: Pregnancy Doesn’t Appear to Worsen Breast Cancer Outcomes

2011-03-29T17:44:00.000-07:00

Susan G. Komen for the Cure | Pregnancy Doesn’t Appear to Worsen Breast Cancer Outcomes

According to the results of a study conducted at the M. D. Anderson Cancer Center, women who are diagnosed with breast cancer and treated with chemotherapy while pregnant have a better disease-free survival (survival without a cancer recurrence or a new cancer) than women who are not pregnant at the time of diagnosis. Overall survival was similar in the two groups of patients. These results were presented at the 2010 Breast Cancer Symposium.

Previous reports have suggested that being pregnant at the time of diagnosis worsens breast cancer outcomes. This may have been due to older approaches to cancer treatment, in which pregnant women received less effective cancer treatment than non-pregnant women or delayed cancer treatment until after the birth of the baby.

A recent study compared breast cancer outcomes between pregnant and non-pregnant women who were treated with 5-fluorouracil, doxorubicin, and cyclophosphamide (FAC).[1] In pregnant women, treatment with FAC was administered after the first trimester of pregnancy. When additional therapies—such as hormonal therapy—were warranted, these were started after the woman gave birth. Each of the 54 pregnant breast cancer patients treated was matched with two non-pregnant patients based on age and stage of cancer.

Overall survival between pregnant and non-pregnant women was similar. In fact, pregnant women appeared to have a slightly better overall five-year survival (77%) than their non-pregnant counterparts (72%). This difference, however, was not statistically significant and may be the result of chance alone.

For five-year disease-free survival, results were significantly better for pregnant women: 74% versus 56% for non-pregnant women.

These results suggest that with current approaches to treatment, pregnancy does not worsen breast cancer outcomes. In a prepared statement, one of the authors of the study stated “Now, when we are counseling breast cancer patients who are pregnant, we can say that they should have every expectation that they will do as well as our non-pregnant patients, and that they should start their treatment in the second or third trimester without delay.”[2]

References:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[1] Litton JK, Warneke CL, Hahn K, et al. Case-control analysis of patients (pts) treated with chemotherapy during pregnancy for breast cancer (BC). Presented at the Breast Cancer Symposium, Washington, DC, October 1-3, 2010. Abstract 105.

[2] MD Anderson News Release. UT MD Anderson Study Finds Women Treated for Breast Cancer While Pregnant Have Improved Survival. 09/29/10.

***

Blaker and I had FAC (Five-FU, Adromyiacan and Cytoxin) for 6+ months together. This kinda news is beyond reassuring for us! Whew ...

Life is good.

Four Years Ago, Today.

2011-02-14T06:57:00.000-08:00

Four years ago today. Valentine's Day is a day of infamy in our family history book. Not your traditional celebration of red roses, chocolates and stuffed teddy bears. Rather, I'll be spending today doing all the things that matter, but with a little bit more 'umph.

Eating breakfast with Blake. Sipping my morning coffee. Having a second and even a third cup. Doing a round of homework with the bug before taking him to school. All the while, working: on stuff that matters. Attending a Board Meeting tonight right dab smack in the middle of the evening and wrapping things up for the day with my family. Sharing. Smiling. Giggling. And undoubtedly, a bit of impromptu dancing which isn't so impromptu since it's a nightly ritual.

In my wildest dreams, I would have never, ever been able to tell you five years ago that "this" is what my life would look like. A life so closely intertwined with cancer. I am back to work helping people with cancer-related legal issues (seriously, right.) and spend a tremendous amount of time volunteering with Komen among a host of other cancer-advocacy and outreach groups. Stuff that matters. But the last four years have brought more blessings than one could ever hope for in a lifetime. I am beyond lucky in the purest sense of the word.

The stats are ugly. The surgeries are long-listed and are to-be-continued in my book. The triple-negative front is anything but hopeful. And 2011 has been a short, but tough year. My "sisters" are bearing the brunt of the disease and Hallmark is getting the best of me. Not being the patient can make one feel so helpless so in my pursuit to do something, I retreat to Hallmark. The realist in me lives on.

But four years is nothing to minimize. Four years brings me one step closer to the mark. The mark that "they" gave me. The mark that I gave myself. The mark that means the world to our family. While the targeted treatments for triple negative breast cancer are pretty much non-existent, the 5-year mark for triple negative patients is monumental in our recovery. I can feel it and it's oh, so close.

The realist in me knows that those closest to me who are spending their day preparing for chemo, changing bandages or lining up caretakers for their babies as they head into surgery were all well beyond the 5-year mark. My mentors in the cancer-world, but more importantly, my mentors in the "this-is-who-you-can-strive-to-mirror-to-be-a-loving-mother,-strong-and-beautiful-woman,-full-of-compassion,-and-with-the-kickin-sense-of-humor" type of women. All 5-years and beyond. And, as I think about them every single morning, my small victory of four-years isn't without loss. I miss you, Shawna and Kel. Realist.

Blake is 3 1/2. Blake is amazing. Blake is playing baseball (tee-ball) in April. Blake is growing. Growing tall and won't slow down. Nothing in his vocabulary or mental awareness has any clue about 5-years, 4-years or 50-years. I'm his Mama. And in his world, I'm his Mama forever. So. That's the way it'll be. There is no reason to try to rationalize and lay out the stats to my 3-year old. Afterall, he is my carrot. I am on a constant chase to keep up with him. Forever. And ever. And ever.

Four years ago, I was 27, pregnant and deathly afraid (but tried not to act it). I wasn't sure if I were going to still be alive to see my son take his first steps.

Four years ago, my life changed forever.

Today. Blake is the greatest joy ever. Rigo is amazing. I am healthy. We are happy.

Today. Life is good.

Thank you dearest family and dearest friends for the last for years. Cheers to the next forty!

Turning the World Pink, Virtually ... #fightbreastcancer

2010-09-30T05:15:00.000-07:00

Every 69 seconds, a woman dies of breast cancer somewhere in the world.

Coincidences? Not So Much.

2010-08-02T18:21:00.001-07:00

Nearly six months ago, I scheduled my 7th surgery for July 30th. Yes, lucky number 7. Seriously. But a few weeks ago, for the first time in my journey with breast cancer, I had a doctor call to reschedule. I didn't ask why (because I don't really care) but I think my surgeon went out of town. The nurse asked to move me up or back a week. But because of my teaching schedule and the anticipated recovery time, I opted to move the surgery to December so I can recover over winter break (and my birthday; margaritas bedside). Even though I was mentally prepared to have this pretty invasive surgery (yes, I have to psych myself up), I was happy it got pushed back so I can finish out the summer with Rigo and Blake.

Well, a short time after the surgery got rescheduled, I received a wonderful surprise - Vera Bradley called to invite Rigo, Blake and I to participate in a photo shoot for their Spring, 2011 catalog in Malibu. Guess when? On July 30th. When the invitation came, I immediately knew I had something on that date, but I couldn't recall what (alas, chemo brain). Then I remembered it was my long-anticipated surgery. But then I remembered it had been cancelled! We're in.

So, last weekend, on a day I was suppose to be checking into the hospital to be butchered open and sewn up for a 7th time ... I was on the Malibu shore with my two best men and a host of amazing professionals! I'm not a big believer in coincidences. Not so much. Everything happens for a reason. If I've learned anything from this ride with cancer, it's just that - it all happens for a reason. And in this case, a very good reason.

Vera Bradley went above and beyond and hosted our family at the Delfina Hotel in Santa Monica for the weekend. We were treated to a stellar stylist. Stacey, I love you! Awesome hair and makeup artist. Rick, you spoiled me (and I loved every second of it)! World-class fashion photographer. Dominique, we were awed by you and your team! A set donned with classic cars and surf boards which went by the wayside with an impromptu run along the shore and INTO the tides to appease Blake. VB Team and Company, you spoiled Blake; thank you from the bottom of our hearts!

Dolphin sightings. Lots and lots of dolphins. Dinner at the Promenade. Coffee on the Pier. Bike rides along the boardwalk. Jaunts in Venice. Afternoon dips. Lunch with great friends.

Best of all, many cherished memories of the warm welcome and blanket of compassion from our old/new Fort Wayne, Chicago, LA friends. Thank you Vera Bradley for a fairytale of a weekend and for making our family feel a part of the Vera Bradley Family.

Heidi Floyd, the amazing force behind all of this - Congratulations Sister-Friend for making it 5 years deep and thank you for being my beacon of hope. Cheers to many, many more!

If interested, please visit the Vera Bradley Breast Cancer Foundation at www.verabradleyfoundation.blogspot.com.

Today is a good day.

2010-07-13T21:40:00.001-07:00

There are so many things I can write about today:

First, Rigo and I just returned from a week vacation to celebrate an early-anniversary. We are still on semi-vacation mode finding sand here and there and slathering on the aloe, day and night. I am grateful for all that Rigo brings to my life. But one of the greatest things he brings is his willingness to whisk me away every now and then (so long as it's not baseball season). Thank you for a blissful week, Rigo. I do.

Then, there is cancer. Or I should say, there is no cancer. The last few months have been a roller coaster ride for us in a

cancer-sorta way. As the onc put it yesterday, "after the trillion-dollar work-up, I don't think you have cancer." Bittersweet. "Don't have cancer" is amazing to hear. "I don't think" not quite as definitive as one hopes to hear. Nonetheless, I try not to get lost in the details.

How it all unfolds (warning: long version) - About three months ago, my lower back started bothering me, flaring up and progressively went from annoying to intolerable. Recently, things have been looking a bit better. The pain is not nearly as consistent, which is a nice sigh of relief (massages on the beach tend to help with back pain, sorry don't mean to rub it in).

About a month into this, I had a regular follow-up with my oncologist. As a matter of practice, my onc is a no-scan type of doctor meaning scans are not used absent symptoms. Since I was pregnant during my diagnosis and majority of treatment, I essentially have not ever really had a scan. Pro - less exposure to radiation and no scanxiety (needless worry). Con - no sneak peak for cancer in hard to find areas. Without scans, my standard follow-ups include blood work, clinical exams and chest x-rays, so I am still under a watchful eye. And I am ever so grateful that I am still on the 3 month follow-up schedule. Since I am 3 years post-diagnosis (2 1/2 years post-surgery), most patients move to follow-ups every 6 months or 1 year. I am certain I would need to be institutionalized from withdrawals if I had to wait 6 months, much less a year, to see Dr. Perkins. (Tangent ... returning.)

Onc decides to order up a bone scan. Unremarkable. (Good.) Back still hurts. Order up an MRI. Unremarkable. (Great.) Back worse. Order the CT. Unremarkable. (Excellent, even though it took three blown veins and 9 pricks to inject the contrast. I still have the track marks.) Finally, today I had a bone density test done. I don't expect much from those results. Even the worse news isn't as bad as cancer, so bleh. But I've spent much of my time the last few weeks in a whole lot of waiting rooms, under expensive and nerve-rackingly loud machines with scanners. So much so that with my latest scan today, I decided I am going to shop online for my own cute hospital gown. There is no sense in not getting my own gown, albeit cute, since I've been spending so much time in them lately.

And here we are. I think they have run out of tests to give me. He says "the trillion dollar work-up and I don't think you have cancer." Brilliant. I actually have my money on the good 'ol aging process, but I count this as a point for NED. But hey, thanks for the ride. (I'm still going shopping.)

Next, is the Central Valley Affiliate Race for the Cure, which is at the end of October. The buzz is beginning to brew in town as people start putting their teams together and registering for the Race. Lorenzo Neal is the Honorary Chair of the Race this year! This is such an exciting time of the year for me. My surgeryversy is October 12th, so it is quite astonishing to think I can run this year, when just three years ago, my family tried to insist I use a wheelchair. Register for the Race at komencentralvalley.org or donate to someone in the community who is participating.

Yes, a lot of great things to write about why today is a good day. Vacations, anniversaries, the Race and NED. I mean NED never gets old. Today is a good day.

But none of that comes close to why my heart is absolutely full of fireworks today. I am bursting with emotions today (which, for those of you that know me, is pretty atypical). I am still in utter awe and amazement everytime I think about it: Three years ago, after enduring six months of chemo with me in utero, Blake Michael was born. Blake was a month early, but he was healthy, happy and had a full head of hair. Blake arrived on his own and just in time for me to move forward with my treatment plan, like he knew how important it was. Truly remarkable because his timing was right-on. I meet people all the time who comment that they didn't know you could be pregnant and have chemo. My response is always the same - I didn't know that either. And, to be honest, even though I see Blake as a healthy 3-year old, I still don't quite get it. I fully understand the science and medicine behind it, but I just have a terribly difficult time grasping the concept of it all. Blake's beginning was so different than I would have ever imagined. And to watch him today try to "fly" off the bed or dive into the deep-end of the pool, you'd never guess it either.

At the time I was diagnosed, I prayed and asked God to help me keep my baby safe, healthy and happy, if possible. From my perspective, that was my one and only task - a happy and healthy baby (no crying - maybe the baseball wife in me). On July 14, 2007, my prayers were realized. Thank you God for the greatest blessing of the gift of life. Blake is the most amazing sign of hope and love, full of laughter and life. He is more than I could have ever hoped for. All this cancer bleh and I am blessed with B. Thank you.

On July 14, 2007, my focus became doing everything in my power to get Blake to kindergarten. Give me kindergarten. Blake's age tracks my years-from-treatment, so kindergarten is a pinnacle moment in both our lives. His for obvious reasons. Mine, well that will be my 5-year mark. In the world of triple-negative breast cancer, 5 years is huge. Please, give me until kindergarten. I'm not greedy. I know just how precious of a gift 5-years is; too many of my friends that have lost this fight would do anything for 5 years, 5 months, 5 minutes with their babies. That is why with each temper tantrum, with each upset tummy, with each "oops Mommy, I broke it," I find a way to freeze-frame the moment. The look in his eyes. The giggles from deep within his belly. The feel of his arms squeezing tight around my neck. Geez, I don't think I am being unreasonable. Please. Kindergarten. I need to get to kindergarten. (And then we can reevaluate.)

Blake Michael, have a wonderful birthday, bug. Mommy loves you, a lot.

Today is a good day.

Continuing The Crusade

2010-06-08T22:36:00.000-07:00

Wow, the past few months have been a whirlwind for me. I couldn't be happier that while my life has been full of breast cancer related causes, none of it has been directly related to my own journey with breast cancer (well, not entirely - but I'll sum up all that in a separate post).

On my third cancerversary, the day I was diagnosed, Valentine's Day, Vera Bradley, invited me to participate in their Fall 2010 Catalog. Yes, as a model (I know, the only modeling gigs I can line up are because I had breast cancer but I'll roll with it - hahaha)! I couldn't have even dreamt up a more "fairytale day" to spend with Rigo, in Sausalito, on a surprisingly clear day for the Bay, on Valentine's Day, celebrating survivorship! Barbara Bradley, one of the founders of the company, was on location and was so gracious to Rigo and I. She is one of the most humble and genuine women I have had the chance of meeting. Her amazing nature is evident in the work she does and all she gives to help make the lives of women facing breast cancer a little more brighter. Vera Bradley features a breast cancer collection to support their breast cancer foundation, and the collection happens to be a fabulous pattern! The makeup artist was classic and reminded me a lot of the wedding planner from Father of the Bride. Don't get me wrong, he was amazing, but classic all the same. The stylist was my favorite - one of those kindred spirits that just fills you with a sense of comfort and peace as soon as you meet; an instant connection. And the 'fotog and his crew were so sensitive and patient with me! The location was breathtaking and was complete with the motor home where the models would get transformed. It was unbelievable to be able to be part of such a production and I am forever grateful to Vera Bradley and my dear friend Heidi, for welcoming Rigo, Blake and I, to the Vera Bradley family.

My last post mentioned that I went up to Sacramento on behalf of the Central Valley Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure in early February. All seven of the California Affiliates came together with dozens of advocates and survivors, along with Komen National, to help make our event a huge success for all intents and purposes.

I met an amazing young woman last year, Carlie, who joined me on my day-trip to Sacramento. She and I asked our state leaders to make women in California a top priority and preserve the Every Woman Counts Program during the heated budget negotiations that are currently underway.

The update as to the EWC Program is that we have had over overwhelming support for the program by leaders in both the assembly and senate. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean we have found a solution to protect the program from severe cuts in funding, thereby threatening the continued existence of the program which serves California's most vulnerable women (and quite simply, saves lives). Nonetheless, the California Komen Affiliates are continuing their efforts to ensure that the EWC Program fully reinstates services to ensure that women ages 40 and over receive annual mammograms if they can't afford one otherwise.

In April, my BFF and co-survivor, Leslie Soley and I, traveled to Washington, DC, to be a part of the Komen National Lobby Days. Aside from the fact that Leslie and I spent a fabulous week together - shopping, dining and visiting, we are grateful that we had the opportunity to meet with various Congressmen from the Central Valley, along with representatives from Senator Boxer and Feinstein's office. The lobbying call by breast cancer advocates and survivors was to highlight the need to ensure that women and men receive the best available screening methods and treatments even though health care reform has passed. Much more work needs to be done to win the war against breast cancer. Simply put, I loved my time in DC; there is a certain magic to the city, the aura , the history, the passion and the beauty. And I count my blessings that I am fortunate enough to head east to raise awareness about something so close to my heart.

Thanks to all my family, friends and perhaps the stranger or two, that took the time to vote for me to win MLB's "Going to Bat Against Breast Cancer" Mother's Day Honorary Bat Girl for the SF Giants. Wow. What an amazingly unforgettable experience for not only me, but for my entire family! Initially, I had hoped Rigo and I would get some sweet seats behind home plate to enjoy the game. But then the call came ... not only would I not be sitting with my family during the game, I would actually be on the third baseline as the Ball Dudette ... in a full baseball uniform! Considering I haven't put a glove on since I was 9 years old (and I quit softball after I got a fat lip), this Ball Dudette component quickly became one of the most nerve-racking experiences of my life. In the week leading up to my Big League Debut, I received more "tips" from everyone (but mostly men) than I ever had before on any other endeavour - you know, when you're pregnant, buying your first home or a car, people love to tell you what you should or shouldn't do ... yes, apparently everyone knew about this Ball Dudette gig and yes, they all have a take on the best approach. Since I quite frankly didn't know squat about being a Ball Dudette, I was fully engaged in whether I should dive for the foul ball or not.

The entire experience was more than we could have ever imagined. My parents, brother, Rigo, Blake and I were invited onto the field for batting practice before the park even opened. We were given access to the clubhouse, the dugout, the players and the amazing crew that helps make this the greatest game ever. My only hope when I threw my name in for this was that I'd get some priceless pictures of Blake with the players and on the field - check! : )

My only other hope for the night (which surfaced only after I learned I'd be fielding foul balls) was that I wouldn't die. Seriously, death was pretty much my main concern. I knew the possibilities - falling down on national T.V., getting another fat lip and maybe losing a tooth or two, ruining the game for whatever it's worth (going for a live ball), but the overriding concern was pretty much death. And apparently, I wasn't being unreasonable because during my quick tutorial, that point was clearly honed in by the staff ... my eyes must stay on the ball at all times, or else I may die! Haha. I am serious - that was their repeated disclaimer. Death. Needless to say, in my 15-some odd years of being with Rigo aka making baseball apart of my daily life, I have never watched a 9-inning game as intently as I did when I was the Ball Dudette for the Giants. In this case, it was for self-preservation, but I left having a new found respect for the game and for major league players. From my brief experience with the players, "professional" is an understatement. Thank you MLB and SF Giants. I am not sure how we'll top this Mother's Day - and a sincere thank you to all of you for voting.

(Oh, and believe it or not, NO foul balls were hit down the line!) : )

Life has been good. Sometimes, Rigo and I sit back and reflect on how far we've come in the last few years. I turned 30 in December. I keenly remember wondering during my treatment if I'd ever make it to my 30th birthday. Well, here we are. And life is oh so good. I still worry. A lot. I am pretty sure Rigo does too, a lot. We worry with time, we worry with aches and pains, we worry with appointments. But despite worrying "a lot," we no longer worry "all the time." There was a time, not too long ago, that cancer never left our thoughts. You can see from the last few months, while cancer is still an ever-present part of our lives, it has brought more happiness and unfathomable richness to my life than I could have ever imagined - Vera Bradley, lobbying (my nerdy passion), MLB, spending time with the dearest of friends, meeting new-kindred spirits, being inspired by grassroots advocates who volunteer their time and zealousness; and showing Blake a whole new world that is very, very pink!

Yes, life is good. And surprisingly, this journey is so much better than good (now)! I don't think I would change a thing.

Does Every Woman Really Count?

2010-02-10T21:31:00.000-08:00

On Monday, I headed up to Sacramento with an amazing young woman, Carlie, for the Susan G. Komen for the Cure California Collaborative Lobby Day. The day started with bake sale hosted by the Woman's Caucus of the state legislature. I should point out that this was a pretty she-she bake sale considering it raised $3,800 for Komen in just a few short hours. At mid-day, a pretty big press conference was held, which garnered the attention of the key players on both sides of the aisle. Finally, the day capped off with the lighting of the State Capitol PINK and a night rally calling on the state to reinstate services immediately.

Two days later and I am still smiling with the feeling of awe of excitement over what a huge success the day was. I have been on quite a few lobbying ventures and I have never left feeling that the day was as worthwhile and as accomplished as I had with this visit. The legislative leaders were eager to take a stand with US, literally waiting in line to get a camera shot with the dozens of activists and survivors working on behalf of uninsured women in California. Waiting in line to express their anger at the thousands of women that will undoubtedly die if action isn't taken. Waiting in line to stand united with breast cancer survivors, breast cancer advocates and breast cancer warriors.

In December 2009, the Department of Public Health announced the Every Woman Counts program would no longer serve women age 40 to 49 as of January 1, 2010. The program also placed a freeze on new enrollments for women age 50 and older until July 2010 aka CLOSE and LOCK the doors to the most vulnerable women in our communities! These two changes will deny or delay services to about 100,000 women and put thousands of lives at risk.

Simply put, this is unacceptable. Yes, we are in a budget crisis. Yes, cuts must be made. But imposing a death sentence on women is not a viable solution. Mr. Governor and Dept. of Health, you have made a huge mistake. Ironically, the state-run program is called Every Woman Counts, but we ask the Governor, does every woman really count?

Mammograms save lives. There is no cure for breast cancer (yet so donate today). The only chance of beating the beast is catching it early. Early detection saves lives and mammograms are the only readily available screening tool. However, closing the doors and refusing to service any women for six months and then raising the age to women 50 and older is dangerously absurd.

Most of you know I was diagnosed with aggressive triple-negative breast cancer at 27. Well, I was blessed to have the luxury of private insurance. For me, there is a happy ending. But that is not always the case.

An amazing young woman, Carlie, joined me at Lobby Days. In fact Carlie is still in high school. Carlie courageously shared her personal connection to the Komen Promise with the legislators and staffers and volunteers we spent the day with in an effort to save lives of uninsured women. When Carlie was 6-years old, her young, beautiful, strong, brave mother, Patty, was diagnosed with breast cancer. Patty fought hard for four years, all along while teaching first grade and being the best mother in the world to her three young children. The angels took Patty at the age of 44 when her babies were 7, 10 and 12 years old. I sat next to Carlie and listened to her bravely advocate in honor of her mother and on behalf of the most vulnerable women and children in the state. Carlie's conviction and passion permeated through the Capitol as she pleaded for our elected officials to open the doors back up so no other child needlessly loses their mother to breast cancer.

As an advocate I couldn't have been more pleased with how receptive the legislature was to our campaign.

As a young woman, a young mother and a young breast cancer survivor, I couldn't be more proud of young Carlie and hopeful for a end to breast cancer.

Another Factor to Why I Had Cancer at 27, Not 67 Years Old

2010-02-01T05:12:00.001-08:00

Insightful study recently published. Personally, I do not have any medical training or background of any sort, but my personal experience is worth years of study in regards to stress and breast cancer.

At the time of my diagnosis, I recently learned I was pregnant with our first child (happy stress) and I was at a new job doing new things aka trials (happy stress). All in all, I was a basket case. A few of my former coworkers still reminisce with me when I run into them. Right before one of my trials (while I was pregnant, just weeks before I was diagnosed), I became extremely lightheaded and had to lie down in the office for a few minutes to ward off fainting in front of the judge. It was pretty nerve-racking at the time, but hysterical now. I always assigned my near-fainting-before-trial-experience as a healthy dose of stress ...

This recent study may interpret my near-fainting-experience and everything else I was going through as the straw that broke the camel's back for my own diagnosis. Each morning I wake up now, I remind myself that nothing is worth stressing out that much, calm, calm and calm.

Social isolation dysregulates endocrine and behavioral stress while increasing malignant burden of spontaneous mammary tumors.Hermes GL, Delgado B, Tretiakova M, Cavigelli SA, Krausz T, Conzen SD, McClintock MK.Departments of Comparative Human Development, Institute for Mind and Biology, The University of Chicago, Chicago, IL 60637, USA.

In a life span study, we examined how the social environment regulates naturally occurring tumor development and malignancy in genetically prone Sprague-Dawley rats. We randomly assigned this gregarious species to live either alone or in groups of five female rats. Mammary tumor burden among social isolates increased to 84 times that of age-matched controls, as did malignancy, specifically a 3.3 relative risk for ductal carcinoma in situ and invasive ductal carcinoma, the most common early breast cancers in women. Importantly, isolation did not extend ovarian function in late middle age; in fact, isolated animals were exposed to lower levels of estrogen and progesterone in the middle-age period of mammary tumor growth, with unchanged tumor estrogen and progesterone receptor status. Isolates, however, did develop significant dysregulation of corticosterone responses to everyday stressors manifest in young adulthood, months before tumor development, and persisting into old age. Among isolates, corticosterone response to an acute stressor was enhanced and recovery was markedly delayed, each associated with increased mammary tumor progression. In addition to being stressed and tumor prone, an array of behavioral measures demonstrated that socially isolated females possessed an anxious, fearful, and vigilant phenotype. Our model provides a framework for studying the interaction of social neglect with genetic risk to identify mechanisms whereby psychosocial stressors increase growth and malignancy of breast cancer.

The article also reads in part:

"Socially isolated women more prone to triple-negative Researchers at the University of Chicago have isolated another factor in triple-negative breast cancer: social isolation. They found that women living in a high crime area of Chicago are more likely to develop triple-negative, which is more prevalent among African-Americans. Loneliness and a lack of social outlets, they say, lead to a surge in the stress hormone cortisol, which allows tumor cells to grow through efficient use of sugar and fat. And sugar and fat are out to do no good—they’re both associated with aggressive cancers.Women with triple-negative also had consistently low cortisol levels, leading to a flat reaction to stress, again a result of life in a high-crime neighborhood, according to the study, which was published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.But, women with a strong social network were more likely to fight against stress, therefore having the power to combat disease."

PMID: 20018726 [PubMed - in process]

I am triple-negative. I am staying calm. Calm, calm, calm.

"Oh, I could never wear my hair that short!"

2010-01-24T20:47:00.001-08:00

I had the chance to visit with dear friends this weekend, all of whom are beautiful, but one in particular just got herself a sexy, swanky, sheek haircut. I loved the new 'do on her.

Seeing my friend's fierce new haircut brought on a lot of memories of my own hair-scapades over the last few years. My girlfriend said tons of people, including strangers, keep telling her "you're so brave, I could never get a haircut that short." And that sets off a vivid recollection of one of my personal cancer-patient pet-peeves ...

"You're so brave. I could never wear my hair that short." Okay. Let's point out the obvious. Haircuts don't make people brave in my book. Don't get me wrong. I am clearly not the adventurous type when it comes to my hair, but considering the world we live in, people rushing into burning buildings, fighting a war a world away, and climbing mountain tops is consider acts of bravery. A super, ridiculously short haircut, not so brave. At least not to the breast cancer patient.

You see, being bald isn't bravery in my book either. Being bald represents survival. We do not choose to be bald. We are thrown into that world, with very few options besides probably death. Baldness itself represents all that I fought for - my son, my husband, my life. Being bald was not brave. Being bald is being real. It is reality that too many women, men and children who live with cancer day in and day out are compelled to deal with.

The short hair phenomenon is a funny thing. Baldness garners the empathy from strangers and loved ones, sometimes conveyed by words, but always expressed in people's eyes. I know some friends with cancer hate "that look," but it never bothered me really.

On the other hand, having the in-between short hair is a totally different experience. You are no longer the "cancer patient," but you definitely don't feel like yourself. When I looked in the mirror with my sheek, short hair, the person looking back at me wasn't the same person I'd remember. It is a haircut defined by cancer and not one I picked on my own terms. I did not "choose" this haircut. No. I did not choose cancer either. But I did choose to fight. I choose to survive. And with that comes the baldness and the short hair.

When the clerk at the store comments "Oh, I could never wear my hair that short. You are so brave," I take her on her word. She defines bravery by a haircut. I didn't. I resented the short hair and what it represented.

Oh my, I think I am having an "ah-ha" moment right now. As I am writing it is dawning on me that my pet-peeve served as a metaphor for bravery all along. I think I was wrong all along and just maybe the clerk at the store was right. Maybe short hair is bravery and I just needed a little time to figure it all out.

To my friends with super, ridiculously short hair, "you are so brave."

Pitching In To Make It a Little Better

2010-01-17T20:42:00.000-08:00

Call me a glass-half-full-kinda-girl, but it pains me to say that the last few months in the breast cancer community have not been the greatest in terms of advancement for the cause, notably for underinsured and underserved women.

In November, the newly issued Federal Guidelines were published which called to eliminate the teaching of Self Breast-Exams and raise the age for mammograms to 50 years and older. Then in December, California made devastating cuts to the Every Women Counts program, placing a six-month moratorium on all mammograms and raising the age to 50 and older. Needless to say, it feels like the last few months have been a blow to the years of work countless activists have put in to ensure that any one woman who dies from breast cancer is one too many.

I don't have the magic solution to any of the many problems that face our country and state right now. In fact, I find myself lying in bed wondering how the women of Haiti who have breast cancer are dealing with the havoc of the earthquake and treating their health. I realize the country was in an impoverished state to begin with before the quake. Haiti being front and center now shows us that still, in 2010, in certain parts of the world, and in parts of California and Fresno County, hearing the words "you have breast cancer" is a death sentence.

Unless you have the "right" insurance willing to approve the necessary life-saving measures to combat the cancer invading your body, you are dealt a losing hand. It is a dire situation here in California with the joblessness and the number of people losing their homes during these times. However, I truly believe that the voices for young women dealing with breast cancer must be spoken to any one who will listen, including young people and our elected officials. Young people should learn that a simple self breast-exam CAN save their life. And our elected officials need to know that one life lost is one too many.

For young survivors, there is an invaluable conference next month in Atlanta hosted by Susan G. Komen for the Cure, Young Survival Coalition and Living Beyond Breast Cancer. Travel grants are available at www.youngsurvivorsconference.org. I was fortunate enough to attend last year and it was phenomenal!

As for what is on my plate, I will be traveling to Sacramento next month and DC in April to lobby for re-instituting the Every Women Counts Program in California and garnering support for the EARLY Act to educate young women about their breast cancer risks.

As for you, pitch me any ideas you may have about raising awareness or funds to help find a cure for breast cancer ... I love hearing about all your efforts to raise awareness!

With Hope and Prayer,

Jamie

Here And Now, Here We Are

2010-01-17T19:59:00.000-08:00

Wow, it is going by so fast. In a few short weeks, I will celebrate three years of survivorship. Three years ago, on Valentine's Day, I was told I had cancer.

Three years later, my baby is a vibrant, lively, happy (and yes, loud) 2 1/2 year old. Three years later, I am dancing with NED and loving every minute of it! Three years later, I have left practicing law and ventured into teaching and spending more time with my baby. Three years later, Rigo has taken the reins at CE and is the Head Varsity Coach. Three years later, life is good. Almost better than good, so I'll keep my fingers crossed just in case.

Over the last few months, I have fully recovered from my most recent surgery, the total hysterectomy. I have smaller-than-pea size scars and have all my strength back in my abdominal region. The biggest side effects of the surgery was the sudden thrush into menopause with the severe hot flashes and a multitude of other "menopausal" related issues. My doctors have lent open and compassionate ears, but unfortunately there isn't much that can be done other than time to allow for my body to transition from being a 20-something to having the "*$*^#!@ of a 65-year old," according to one doc. Well, six months later, the hot flashes are lessening each week. In fact, now they are welcome relief since it is so cold around here. On the other fronts, it is a work in progress, but progress indeed.

With all this said, I am not sure I would recommend this surgery for other young survivors. I mean, for me it was absolutely the right decision. Given my medical history and my capacity to worry myself silly, I think all the changes and adjustments are worth the comfort and peace of mind. Stark nonetheless. Stark adjustments and difficult. I think if I didn't have such an amazing and near-perfect husband, this would be a different story to tell. I am blessed to have him pick me up every time I fall (and there are many atimes I have fallen on this journey) and to have him remind me of what is truly important in our lives and relationship with each other and to our family. Through sickness and in health; wow, Rigo is getting his money's worth! Haha! (I am my mother's daughter!)

I have had quite a few follow-ups with my oncologist for routine exams and blood work to monitor my tumor markers and most recently a chest xray. All in all, no news is good news. Trust me, I call when the office opens the next morning to get my results, which have all come up negative! Whew ...

Aside from recovering and routine monitoring, my health has been excellent! : ) With the help of flu shots, I haven't even had a cold this winter. Talk about rebounding. Three years. I can remember like it was yesterday that I couldn't even fathom chasing Blake and riding bikes and running with him. Now I am running 5 miles a day again. I am so very grateful. Life is good.

And then we have the foobs. Without getting to detailed because the thought of it all just exhausts me now, I am going back to Stanford to have BOTH foobs replaced and repaired. Rigo and I went up to Stanford last month to move forward with nipple reconstruction (which I have decided I do want to do) and collectively decided (with my doctors and husband) that both foobs should be fixed. Long story short, the right one capsulated with scar tissue and the left one dropped. Technically speaking, this is purely cosemetic. Part of me is torn whether or not I should have another surgery. This will make MAJOR surgery number 7 in two years. I am tired of dealing with the prep, post-surgery recovery, the meds, the co-payments, the scheduling of life around surgeries. But then again, my doctors all agree that the foobs can improve, a lot! Well, despite how drained I get thinking about it, I try to remember just how quickly the last three years have gone and in the scheme of my entire life, these surgeries are just a blimp. Scheduling this gets a little tough. In a perfect world, it would be perfect to do the surgery in July-August when we are both off of work. However, I don't want to raise any issues or red flags with the insurance (which is covering the procedure) so I am probably going to do the procedure during Spring Break in March. Yes, that is the peak of baseball season so I hate to do this to Rigo. The plan is that Blaker can go hang with his Nana and maybe Great-Grandma for a few days and my dad can nurse me to health while I listen to the Easter Classic on AM Radio while I heal. The surgery will keep me down for a few days (double drains = double misery) but then I plan on getting off meds and back onto my feet right away and back into the classroom. We will make it work out; we always do with the help of all of you, our family and friends.

My birthday came and went with a heartfelt special delivery courtesy of my dear husband! Rigo flew my nephew, Devin and my mom in from Georgia and surprised me on my birthday! I spent a well-needed two weeks with mom spoiling Blake, Rigo, me and Tiki over the holidays! Life is good. Rigo and I spent a wonderful, relaxing weekend in SF on my birthday and my dear girlfriends Leslie, Melody, Summer and Dana spent another weekend with me in SF; good shopping, good food and good friends. Thanks ladies!

And now we are here, in 2010. In my darkest of days, just two years ago, I doubted what the future held for me, for my son and Rigo. Here and now, 2010. Here and now, three years later. We are nearly three years out. I am flabbergasted when I think of just how far we have made it; the three of us. Rigo and Blake have been with me every step of this journey. The flame of hope is burning brighter than ever. Trust me, I still hold my breath every time I go into the doctors for a follow-up, for every self-breast exam that I do (yes, I still have to do them even though I had a mastectomy and all of my breast tissue removed - if I can do them, YOU can do them), I hold my breath if something aches a little too much after a jog. But then I look at Blake. I see his twinkle in his eyes, I hear his belly giggles that sound just like his dad, I smell his hair and see him dance. I can't wait for the next three years. I still hope for a cure. I hope I never have to hear those words again and never have to sit in a chemo chair again. But I also hope the next three years go by a little slower so I have enough time to smell his hair a little deeper, dance more often with him and giggle with Blake more loudly.

Life is good. And here we are. 2010.

First Love

2009-12-06T20:16:00.000-08:00

Two of B's first loves, dinos and baseball.

Life is good.

Pink Power To A New Level

2009-12-02T21:21:00.000-08:00

So many wonderfully blessings have filled our lives over the last few weeks, including an amazing weekend in Atlanta hosted by Kids II, Inc., and Bright Starts, a manufacturer of baby toys which feature a "Pretty In Pink" line of products to honor 8 women throughout the United States who have survived breast cancer, who are mothers and have helped make the world a little better place.

Rigo and I were invited to Atlanta early November to accept this touching award, which included a getaway spa weekend at the Four Seasons Hotel and a donation of $5,000 to award to the breast cancer charity of my choosing! Talk about an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to help pay-it-forward! The Central Valley Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure, which I serve as the Public Policy Chair on the Board of Directors was the charity I selected to receive the funds. So many women in Fresno County region can benefit from a significant amount of education, awareness and screening with a $5,000 donation!

Since the getaway weekend happened to be where my mama lives, Rigo and I agreed to "sneak" Blaker onto the plane with us to surprise Gramma Julie in Georgia with Blake! Despite our doubts, we survived the plane ride across the country with Blaker sitting on our lap and arrived in Atlanta on a Friday to a driver waiting for us with a goodie bag full of snacks and personalized water bottles and holding a pink rose to kick off the wonderful weekend! We were ushered to the limo by the driver, with Blaker in tow and made our way to Midtown Atlanta with 70 degree weather in the background. I convinced my mom to drive into town to meet me for a quick greeting and hug before Rigo and I headed off to the festivities. (She actually lives about 45 minutes north of downtown.) Mom was her typical punctual self and was already waiting in the hotel lobby by the time we arrived and left her mark in the Four Seasons with homemade posters throughout the lobby for "RIGO & JAMIE" on bright neon pink boards! We led Blake through the lobby and witnessed one of the few, pure moments where shear joy overtook my mama! It is hard to get your parents, the two people who have sacrificed every part of their lives for you to be where you are today and knowing they would walk through fire and on a board of nails for you, an appropriate "thank you for all you've done for me" gift. Well, okay - my mom would love a gift card to Forever 21. Still, seeing my mom forget "everything in the world" and focus in on the only thing/person that mattered to her for those few moments and Blake being her focus was worth every minute on that plane there and back with Blake! Gramma was simply delighted to get a surprise weekend with BML and Rigo and I were able to embrace the pampering, wining and dining of the weekend with Bright Starts even more knowing that Blake was in hog heaven with Gramma and his cousins Devin, Pace & Lyla in Georgia!

I have procrastinated long enough to find the right words to capture what a memorable weekend Bright Starts treated us too, that I am resorting to piggy-backing onto the wonderfully written description by my fellow pregnant-with-breast-cancer, Pink Power Mom and lifelong sister-friend, Heidi Floyd's amazing blog at http://verabradleyfoundation.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html. She writes:

ATLANTA, GEORGIA - There were 9 of us in total, all of us mommies who have been through breast cancer. Three of us were pregnant during that journey, which is kinda daunting. One of the mommies is having a rough go with her radiation, so she couldn’t even join us for the party. :( The common thread, other than the cancer thing? We are all pretty fierce about finding a cure. We all work – hard, and daily – to do what we can to find a cure or to help other women who are going through treatment. At no time during the weekend did I hear anyone complain about a having too small of an office or not being able to climb the corporate ladder. At some point in maturity (staring death in the face helps with this, too) you realize that if you pursue things like that, you are chasing empty dreams. These girls? They know what matters. Amy realized that there was no one to watch the children of chemo patients, so she created a safe, special kids-only waiting room for them while mommy gets treatment. Tracie is in the services business – her non-profit (pinkribbongirls.org) helps connect patients and provide things like hot meals for their families. Jamie is… well… she’s getting her own blog post because I can’t express her cool factor on just one post. We were all connected and treated to an amazing getaway by the Kids ll company. And this company is the rare kind that I will say simply: if you ever are offered a job to be with them, take it. I don’t care how far you have to move your family, or what position you are offered, go. Their compassion is felt from the very top and runs throughout all the employees. They started a line of baby products that donate a portion of the proceeds to breast cancer to ‘give baby girls a brighter tomorrow.' Thank you, Bright Starts, for donating to our charities. Thank you, Sarah, for making it all happen! The next time you have a baby shower to go to, please buy Kids ll products. And be sure to explain to the new mommy that the gift you are giving actually has a deeper impact. For all of us!

Thank you Heidi! I couldn't have said it better!

Back-2-Back 3rd Place, Not Too Bad

2009-11-06T16:38:00.001-08:00

Sorry it has taken awhile to post about the Race for the Cure held here in Fresno on October 24th at Fresno State. To sum up the race, it was AWESOME!

In support of Susan G. Komen, the Clovis East Baseball Team put together a Race for the Cure Team of high school baseball players, their siblings, parents, friends, teachers, their families, neighbors and more joined our team. In total, our CE BASEBALL TEAM & FRIENDS had 42 team members come out to run or walk in the 5k! We had a pretty cool tailgate spot for our team members to congregate and meet up to munch on muffins, bananas and to paint their hair pink! The coolest part was that our team (with the help of so many of YOU reading my blog) won 3rd Place for the most money raised by a school at more than $1,425!

Rigo and I were touched by everyone who showed up so early on their Saturday morning to walk/run in support of a cause so close to home! Rigo and I also are blown away by the generosity of the many friends, family members and coworkers who donated to our family, our team and our team members! Finally, Rigo and I would like to say a very special thank you to the Kuber Family. Chris Kuber is a graduate of CE and former baseball player. The Kubers were out there on Saturday to support our team and the cause; both which are very special to them as it is to the Ledezma's!

As for our performance, Rigo did awesome in the 5k run. After the men's run, I carried myself along the course, huffing and puffing, with all my might! It was a great run! My girlfriends were out there on the course and while I didn't run with them step-by-step, I was inspired knowing they were out there running for a cure! In the end, my time was 27:26, which is a personal best for me and earned me a 3rd Place Finish Among Survivors for the second year in a row! Whoot, whoot! I am mighty proud of that accomplishment. To sit back and think that a that same race, just two years ago, I could NOT walk the 1-mile course with my battered, weak, chemo-riddled body which still bore the stitches from my bilateral mastectomy. Wow. If you told me that two years later, I would be beating my personal best runs and placing, I would have never dreamt it possible!

Life is good. Life is mighty good. I run for life. I run for Rigo. I run for Blake. I run for my life. Life is good.

Click here to view these pictures larger

See for Yourself, Life is Good!

2009-10-23T12:53:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the Central Valley Race for the Cure! Rigo, Blake and I will all be running in celebration of the many blessings we have and to honor those sisters, mothers and daughters who have lost their battle to breast cancer. Go Clovis East Baseball & Friends Komen Team!

Two weeks ago, we visited a local pumpkin patch for an evening of fun. I love this picture. This is a little glimpse into a day in my life! I am so grateful for this beautiful gift of life and Blaker.

Two Years Ago TODAY!

2009-10-12T14:08:00.000-07:00

Two years ago today, I became cancer-free and have been ever since! On October 12, 2007, when little Blake was a mere 12-weeks old, Rigo and my parents held my hand as I was rolled into the operating room at Stanford Medical Center for a bilateral mastectomy.

Whew, what a two years it has been. What a wonderfully blessed two-years! I would be lying if I said that there were days which I doubted if I'd ever make it through the recovery of that surgery or my cancer journey, but all-in-all, I feel fabulous!

In the recovery room following my mastectomy, my surgeon informed Rigo and I that while the tumor had shrunk from the neo-adjuvent chemotherapy (nearly 10 months of it), a small residual tumor remained. Nonetheless, removing my breasts ensured that the mass of cancer cells were removed from the body! Woohoo!

Two years ago, I met NED (no evidence of disease).

This is such a difficult concept to explain. My mother asked me today, "are you sure?" Simple answer is "NO." We are not sure I am cancer-free, but at this point (all my fellow attorney friends), there is no EVIDENCE of disease! Hence, go on and live, laugh and love! And that is exactly what I am doing. (Side note: While corporate America has done wonders in advancing the breast cancer awareness movement during the month of October, it needs to be said that there is NO CURE FOR BREAST CANCER as of today. That is why I do not claim I am "cured" rather I live, laugh and love with NED!)

On Saturday, I ran 7 miles. Today I ran 4 miles. I am living.

Last night at dinner at a local Mexican restaurant, Blake pulled out his hand from under the table and proudly showed us a little surprise he had in store for us. Yes, the beans don't sit so well with him. He literally had a handful of his own *$!@. I am laughing.

Rigo, you are my friend, my rock and my love. I am loving.

Life is good.

Two years later, life is still good. We made it babe!

Humbling Honor

2009-09-03T11:40:00.000-07:00

Thank you Komen Central Valley for all your hard work and dedication to the cause. I am humbled that you selected me for this tribute when I know there are countless deserving women in our community who are full of courage and inspiration.

Family and friends, please check out this blog to learn about the wonderful honor we have been selected for and hopefully we will see you on Race Day to celebrate life, love and laughter!

http://endbreastcancerforever.blogspot.com/2009/08/komen-central-valley-names-2009.html

One Proud Mama,

James

(It goes without saying that Blaker and Rigo are my co-awardees; hence, I am proud of Blake!)

Very Cool Honor ~ 'Tis the Season

2009-09-02T14:13:00.000-07:00

Breast cancer awareness month is right around the corner! Much anticipation for the attention and focus that sheds light on the devasting effects and stories of hope of the all too many women and men who have to deal with breast cancer!

Nonetheless, thought I'd share a cool little honor we received at http://www.pinkpowermom.com/2009Moms.aspx#Jamie.

Very exciting to say the least.

Rigo and I are busy putting together a Clovis East Baseball Team for the Central Valley Race for the Cure at Fresno State on October 24th. Please feel free to join us on our team or donate to help bring us closer to a cure for breast cancer (btw, there is NO cure for breast cancer, hence we NEED one now!!!).

Life is good.

Goal for the Day

2009-08-20T08:30:00.000-07:00

My goal for the day is to not take any pain meds. Trust me, if I need them, I will waste no time popping. I just hope to be able to have a painless day!

I have a followup with my oncologist day today - yeah, awesome doc and nurses, but ugh cancer talk. We will definitely address how I should cope with my ever so apparent menopausal symptoms. As for now, Hormone Replacement Therapy will NOT be an option for me with my history of breast cancer. As for the many recommendations of herbs, thank you but those are also NOT an option for me since most menopause related herbs contain Soybean, which is also warned against with a history of breast cancer. Looks like a hefty supply of fans on hand.

FYI: Any of my girlfriends who over the years may have the same surgery, you can count on me buying you a fan as your "speedy recovery" gift! : )

No pain, no pain, no pain!

Living Hell ~ But Life Is Good

2009-08-19T11:07:00.000-07:00

I will tell you the truth without sugar coating it, hot flashes are like a LIVING HELL!

Miserable. I am having a hard time coping. Our PG&E bill will probably be at least $500 this month.

But, then there is Blaker - hilarious!

Life Is Good!

Resting and Recovering ~ Hasta La Vista Ovaries

2009-08-17T13:28:00.000-07:00

On Friday, Rigo and I arrived home from Cancun at 4am and made it to the hospital by 8am for my hysterectomy. We had a fabulous time on vacation, but sure missed the little one. We came home tanned and ready to go for surgery!

Surgery was pretty smooth for me. It took a little longer than anticipated, so I think that always worry Rigo and my Dad in the waiting room, but I could care less since asleep is asleep. The surgeon was able to perform the total hysterectomy of ovaries, tubes, cervix and uterus via laproscopic, so my pain and recovery is much more bearable than a full incision. I have two small incisions in my lower abdomen and one made through my bellybutton. They really are barely noticeable and held together by a type of medical glue.

Today is three days out and I finally had my first shower - like paradise at home! : ) We wanted to make sure the glued stayed in tact.

The pain on the day of surgery was terrible! It was pretty world rocking considering my other surgeries and we stayed in the hospital one night. My nausea is the hardest part to manage more so than the pain. As of today though, I am doing MUCH, much better and spending most days and nights resting in bed and around the house. I hope to be up on my feet by the end of the week. My appetite has picked back up and brownies are always welcomed! : )

Thank you all for your messages of love and support and your visits and calls to cheer me up and keep my mind off of the magnitude of this journey! Life is good!

Big Day Around the Corner

2009-08-08T12:19:00.001-07:00

It is with anxious optimism that I am heading closer and closer to the next-big-canceresque-event in my life.

My total hysterectomy is set (virtually in stone) for Friday, August 14th. I am actually really looking forward to getting this behind me, but it is going to be a little tough - emotionally and physically that's for sure.

Please, once again, if you can remember - please keep my family and I in your prayers for a smooth procedure, a CLEAN pathology and a speedy recovery! I am looking forward to rolling around and playing "horsey" with Blake in no time. (The anticipated recovery is 2-6 weeks - ugh.)

Gramma Julie is in town visiting from Georgia! She is with the little Blaker right now and Rigo and I head off to Cancun for a last hoorah! I am determined to go into surgery with a damn good tan! : ) Both Grams and Poppo will help keep the Ledezma household running while I recover and Rigo heads back to CE for the new school year.

Life is good. Yes, yes it is. Life is good.

Our Plan of Action (for now)

2009-06-27T21:12:00.000-07:00

We are 2 years deep into living with a cancer diagnosis. Everyday is a "new beginning" in adjusting to my "new" life after cancer.

Farrah Fawcett hit me harder than I expected. Her courage moved me to remember that through awareness, we may get a step closer to universally beating this thing. Hence the blog update on my own personal journey with cancer. Warning: Too much information disclaimer for this entry! : )

I sort of have been avoiding posting about what is going on in my life cancer-post-cancer-related. Anxiety, denial. Call it what you wish, but this "new" me hates to get too comfortable in what my "Plan of Action" is since a curve ball gets thrown our way when I least expect it.

Let's get this party started:

My Foobs
I had my exchange surgery last June, 2008 around Blake's (Lyla's) first birthday. This was my third reconstructive surgery (mastectomy, capsulectomy and exchange). The exchange is when the doc's took my expanders (little balloons) out and put in my silicone implants. The protocol is to wait at least three months for the implants to settle before evaluating what is next. Typically, the exchange is the last step in reconstruction. If you know me at all, you know I am atypical ... yes, that is a compliment.

So, before the three months ran, we realized the left side (cancer side) dropped and needed to be revised aka another surgery. It literally dropped. Down. Down towards my belly button. I mean, not literally AT my belly button, but headed south for sure. Doc says one of two things happened, which we will never be able to ascertain, so don't fret ... just correct! Either the stitching into my chest wasn't sturdy enough and simply gave way (his fault) or I overextended myself with Blake or running and caused the stitching to break. Either way, it needed to be corrected. In January, 2009, I went back to Stanford and took a few weeks off of work to recovery from a left side implant replacement (new implant) and revision of the mammary fold. Reconstruction surgery number four.

Six months later and I just returned from Cancun with some girlfriends! I love my FOOBS! But, we all know how my luck is ... so I thought! My right side is hard. Literally, my implant is hard on the right only. Implant on the left is squishy, like a natural breast. However on the right it is as hard, hard, hard. The implant is contracting meaning the scar tissue from the previous surgeries is growing around the implant (sort of like a spider web). The result is that the implant is taking on a life of its own. The implant, within time, will deform. For now, I love it. I mean, I notice that the cleavage on each side is different with the right side being much more enhanced, but it is bearable. Eventually, the scar tissue will grow around the implant so much that is will squeeze the implant into the shape of a cone (rather than being round; think Madonna). Does it hurt? Not necessarily, but when I run or lift something heavy, like a box, I feel the muscle pull which hurts for a brief moment(s). It passes. My range of motion on the right side is a little limited compared to the left side. For instance, while working out, it is harder (so I avoid) to raise my right arm above my head to do tricep lifts. (This is why I have fatty arms!) : ) More importantly, will the implant pop and leak? Yes, it can and may eventually do just that. My doctor reminded me to see him if it begins to leak. Is he serious? Does this mean surgery number five?

So I thought. Rigo and I went to Stanford last week for my three month (ever so important marker in the reconstruction world) with my plastic surgeon. "How do you feel Jamie?" "I feel great." "Any problems" he asks. "Well, no real problems. I mean, I love how my foobs look, but the right is tight and feels a little strange at times" I report as I pull my calendar out to schedule the next surgery. Mentally, it is tough to prepare for these appointments knowing you like how you look (while not perfect, MUCH better than I would have ever dreamt of for having my boobs lopped off and replaced with foobs) but will have to have yet another surgery with no guarantee if the result will look as good as where I am now ... it may be just as good, may be better, or with my luck, may turn our WORSE! Yikes. My game face is on. To my surprise, doc says he agrees that my right implant is contracting, but let's wait-and-see for now. We don't have to rush into surgery. If I notice a leak, then we need to rush into surgery. If it becomes so deformed I stop wearing my bikini, we need to rush into surgery (and throw in a tummy tuck while you're at it ... that will help with the bikini). If my foob begins to hurt with such regularity that it interrupts my daily living, we need to rush into surgery. Today, no surgery. Go ahead and put that calendar away.

Last week's doctor visit allowed me to mentally take some ownership with my foobs. I have been quite hesitant to "own" my foobs because with this "new" me realizes my entire world can be turned upside down with any doctor's appointment. Not this one. I was given permission to embrace 'em foobies!

At this appointment, we had a consultation on nipple reconstruction. Since October, 2007, I have not had nipples. Today, my life feels complete. Rigo and I are not certain I need to undergo nipple reconstruction. After all, I have no feeling in my foobs anyhow. The nipple procedure is not fool proof. In fact, every set of nipples fails (invert). It is just a matter of time. For some women, the nipples fail within 2-5 years. Others, it could be months or weeks. Do I really want to go down this road? A fellow BC sister I know from "The Room" showed me her new nips this week. Her insights resonated with me. She said she doesn't regret the nips at all and feels even more complete with each glance in the mirror. Her nip looked great. So, while not certain where I stand, I am leaning towards doing the procedure. I mean, I've come this far on the journey, why not take that final stretch of reconstruction head on.

The nip recon procedure will be at Stanford Medical Center as an out-patient procedure. I will be put to sleep and it takes about an hour, but I get to go home that night (a first in the many surgeries). I can and would do it now, but I can't go swimming for four weeks following the surgery. Since it is suppose to be 108 degrees in Fresno tomorrow, I will put the nips off until November. After all, it's been almost two years without nips ... nips, swimming, nips, swimming ... SWIMMING! : )

Conclusion: My foobs rock!

Fringe Benefit of BRCA 1
So, on the other front of life after breast cancer is what to do about my high risk of ovarian cancer. I lost my favorite aunt, Tia Josie, to ovarian cancer at the tender age of 46 years young. My doctors all agree that since I am triple negative (estrogen negative), it is safe for me to try to get pregnant and have more children. In September, Rigo and I went to Stanford Reproductive Clinic and learned that my ovaries have been pretty damaged from chemotherapy. I would have a very difficult time trying to get pregnant. We are not trying to get pregnant. However, I have strict orders from my doctor that I cannot be on birth control post-breast cancer. Point being, I am not prepared to go down that road. Rigo as well. We talked and talked and talked this matter over for many months, if not for the last two years. Our "plan" was to have two children. We still want two children. I loved being pregnant. But I hated having cancer. I know it is "safe" to get pregnant, but "what if?" I am so very blessed to have the miracle of life in little Blaker. I am confident I do not want to push my luck and ever wonder if I did all I could in my control to keep the beast away. Even if we were okay with trying to get pregnant, I do not think I can mentally and emotionally handle the challenges of "trying" to get pregnant month in and month out. After all, an expert told me my chances are slim. And quite frankly, I have days I can barely handle adjusting to the "new" me after cancer.

With all this said, Rigo and I are confident in our decision for me to have a total hysterectomy and slapigino oophorectomy August 14th. I will have my uterus, fallopian tubes, cervix and ovaries removed which will push me into FULL blown menopause before I hit 30 (yikes). The procedure will not be determined until operation day. Essentially, I will either have it laproscopically or surgically depending on the condition of my uterus. Ideally, I will do it laproscopically where I will still be put to sleep at the hospital but it will not require any overnight stay and my recovery is two weeks. On the other hand, if I have a lot of scar tissue in my uterus, I will have to have a surgery which will require a 3-night hospital stay and SIX week recovery.

Conclusion: I feel good about our decision to move forward. We look forward to adopting a child to join our family in a few years. I hate not knowing what my recovery time will be, but I am so very grateful I have this opportunity to take a little control over the beast.

The Beast
So far, no news is good news. In case you are wondering, I have follow-up appointments with my oncologist every twelve weeks. My blood is tested for tumor markers (protein levels in my blood which may reflect tumor activity) and I have a clinical exam. As of today, my tumor markers are fine. The blood test is not very effective in detecting recurrences, but it is the best we have at this point. Every six months I get a chest x-ray (not so very high-tech) to detect if cancer has spread to my lungs, which for breast cancer, this is one of the first places it may spread. As of today, my lungs look great.

Conclusion: As of today, I have no evidence of disease.

As of today, life is good.

We Made It!

2009-05-26T18:31:00.000-07:00

We made it from coast to coast without having Blake break through the cockpit door! Have I mentioned this before, but my kid is a CHAMP!

He was in rare form and so peaceful and pleasant to travel with (heavy, but pleasant)! We made it through 12 hours of traveling and a 3 hour layover without injury. Amen ... I can smell the sweet flavors of everyday challenges and victories and sometimes 'feats. Life after cancer sure is good!

Thank you Gramma for hosting us. We were welcomed to dozens and dozens of homemade cookies (like old times sakes)! Blaker and I are still in humid, rainy Georgia and we miss Dad lots and lots, but having the time of our lives with Gramma and her kitty Bella and Auntie Shan and Uncle Junior and cousins Dev, Pace and Lyla. Lyla and Blake are hands-down hilarious together. More of their tales to come later.

For now, just wanted to post that we made it safely and soundly. We are busy playing, visiting and eating. Daddy, get ready for us ... we'll be home in a week!

Pray for our flight home ~ Yes We Can!

The Red Devil, A Look Back in Time

2009-05-19T23:26:00.000-07:00

I just found a copy of this picture and since it is not framed in my house, I figured it was fitting for the blog.

This is my cousin, Bridget, with me and nurse Carolyn (angel who rocks) while I am receiving The Red Devil, adromyican chemotherapy. Note: Nurse Carolyn only wears gloves while injecting the poisons that are harmful to her skin if she comes into contact with the toxic agents aka only this one! AND I am about 7 months prego her with Blaker (wigged out).

TMI but you pee red too!

A Journey On Our Own

2009-05-19T23:08:00.000-07:00

At 5:00 tomorrow morning, Rigo is taking Blaker and I to the Fresno airport so The Kid and I can go see Gramma Julie in Georgia. While we are so very excited to see Gramma Julie, Uncle Junior and Aunt Shannon, Devin, Pace (who graduates from Kindergarten this Friday) and Little Lyla, we are sad to leave Rigo! : (

Even moreso, I am SCARED out of my mind to fly with a 22 month old nearly across country, by myself! Yikes, yikes!

For all you sweet, tender souls that carved a second of your daily prayers for the Ledezma Family, please personalize it tonight that God grants me peace, patience and sanity to make it to Georgia in one piece with Blaker. After all, what's the worst that can happen? They could turn the plane back around because of Blaker's trantrums and trust me, we've been through worse! hehe.

On another note, I traveled to Stockton this weekend and spoke at the ACS Survivor Kickoff Event at O'Conner Woods with Blake and my brother, Michael. O'Conner Woods itself is a beautiful facility and ACS and the hardworking, dedicated volunteers put on a fantastic event. Most touching to me as a survivor, is to meet the many other survivors and hear their personal feats over cancer, there years of championships and their remarkable recoveries. Most touching to me as a sister, is to see my older brother's eyes in how he introduces me and my own son; my brother's own love for Blake and I fills me with so much unconditional love, joy and pride, that cancer could never rob me of or take away. Thank you for being a rock Michael, a very proud rock.

As a simple reminder of life after cancer, for the most part (99 percent), everything is wonderful, great and normal. But yesterday I had a (hopefully) subtle reminder of post-surgery limitations when I pulled a muscle in my chest while lifting my textbooks & materials into the trunk of my car. Man, immediately I felt the movement (almost as if the implant dropped again) and was quite sore and tender for some time afterwards. Right now I am much better, but I could not handle my run at the gym today. I am fine ... just a simple reminder ... you had cancer, you had major surgery which calls for changes. You must acknowledge and adapt. Jamie, acknowledge and adapt. Isn't life good ... I have returned to "so normal" that it slips my mind to acknowledge and adapt until it is a tad bit too late. I will take it easy on the lifting. No problem.

Wish us luck on Blake and Mom's journey ... a journey of our own, from Fresno to Georgia. We have a whole lotta' loving, laughing and living to do in the next two weeks with our Georgia 'fam!

Oh yes, life is good.

Go CE T-Wolves!

Don't Sweat the Small Things

2009-05-11T00:23:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day. Today is a blessing that I am eternally grateful for. Today I had a beautiful day with my family. Today brought much laughter to boost my spirits and love to comfort my heart.

Blake, Rigo and Poppo took me to a quaint breakfast for crepes and coffee and then we headed out to see the animals at the zoo. Blake is so funny. He has been to the zoo about a dozen times already, but at each and every exhibit, his eyes widen really big, his mouth drops open and he gasps with shock and surprise at what he sees whether it is a bird, zebra or sheep all the while pointing his finger left to right at every single animal. He is hilarious! Seeing his overworked, developing little mind was the greatest gift I could have gotten today.

Today is Mother's Day. I am grateful to have made it to my second "official" Mother's Day. Today, I remembered my dear friends, Shawna and Kelly, both who were young mothers, wives and daughters, but also two very dear friends of mine. It is strange that when I drive by the cemetery, I notice how many people are visiting.

I realize just how precious life is and what a gift it is considering my encounter with breast cancer and the passing of my dear, dear friends just a month ago, barely 29 and 34 years old. But nonetheless, I too get wrapped up with the small stuff. Rigo can attest to that ... "I do!"

But today my childhood BFF lost her mother. Today, on Mother's Day, one more mother was sent to heaven.

Despite my perspective, I too get wrapped up with the little things. As if breast cancer wasn't enough; I have Shawna, Kelly and Cindy to keep it all in perspective. Brave mothers who travel The Path before us, please keep the light burning.

Thank you for this Mother's Day and for the gift of life.

With Hope,

Jamie
Blake's Mommy

Not Sure Where to Start, but Life Is Good! Oh yes it is!

2009-05-08T08:18:00.000-07:00

It's been so long since I have posted. I mean to, but each month that passes makes it harder and harder to post because I am not so sure where to start? Do I go back to last September and catch you all up on everything that has happened including my last surgery in January (which has subsequently failed) to my retirement at work to stay home and play with Blaker on a full time basis! Truly, so much has happened in the last few months, I am not sure if playing catch-up is the smartest move. I will try to cover all my bases when the time comes. Does everyone feel like the last year has flown by?

Blake is amazing. He is 21 months old and full of life, love and laughter! He is such a blessing to our lives. We are in awe with his growth, his unique personality, his quirks, his moods (yes, there are many) and his fearless attitude! Blake is doing what you all warned us about ... he is growing so big, so fast! Right before our eyes he went from baby to boy. I sit and think about the last year and a half and while I am so very blessed with our miracles of life, in a way I felt a little cheated. His newborn stage is just a blur to me. Blake pulls out the photo albums and we look at the countless pictures of him when he was a teeny baby and I am in the pictures, ill and frail, grey and weak. No wonder I can't remember his first few months. I am so very blessed to be alive, to smell the fresh air with deep, slow breaths and to see him grow bigger and stronger each and every day. But I was still missing out. I never felt as though I have taken the mothering experience by the reins quite yet. I was juggling work, baby, doctor's appointments, wife and other commitments. Something had to give. Well, leave it to me to chose the only one that pays (dollars at least). As of April 24th, I left the District Attorney's Office in order to dedicate myself to my family and my health. This was one of the toughest decisions of my life, but one which I am at peace with. The tough part is I LOVE my job, my coworkers, the cause ... I believe in what I do! Part of what brings me peace of mind in leaving the office is knowing that in a few years once Blake is in school, I will be back to practicing law full-time. In the meantime, it is me and the kid (and the dog and the dad, oh cat too).

Last week, I traveled to DC with Susan G. Komen for the Cure as part of a lobbying trip. Not only was it my first trip to DC & I have a passion for policy, but I went with a girlfriend of mine and we snuck in some sightseeing. I had the opportunity to meet many legislators in one-on-one (four) meetings and share our journey with them. To take you to the moment with me, I began our journey by showing Senator Boxer and the Congressmen a picture of Blake. I told them that it was when I was pregnant with Blaker, our only child and at 27 years old, I was told I have breast cancer. A few of the members (in their politician-ian way) asked to hold onto Blake's picture! : ) Senator Boxer said Blake looks just like her newborn grandson! : ) And Congressman Costa even cried a bit (perhaps on cue, but I'll take it)! : ) Amazing - all this in support of breast cancer legislation to bring more attention to young women facing a risk of breast cancer.

As an aside, I came home to learn about little Hannah, a 10 year old girl in southern California facing a double mastectomy and Stage II breast cancer (diagnosed in April, just last month). HELLO PEOPLE ... our 10 year old children with breast cancer! Please, please, let's find a cure. In the meantime, please take your life in your own hands and do self exams! Read more about Hannah at a blog being kept by her father at www.ourlittlesweetpea.com.

Blake is going be up in a minute. I am closing this post in memory of Shawna Lynn Kilbert. 2009 has been a tough year for us. Shawna is my dear friend I met in chemo. Shawna, the mother of Preston (age 6) and Logan (age 3) and wife to Dan, passed away after an undeniably amazing fight against cervical cancer. Shawna is being honored on Regis and Kelly this morning as the Mother of the Year, which is undeniably fitting for her. Shawna's life as a mother and wife and friend and her battle with cancer at 34 years old was a huge force is encouraging me to spend more time with Blake now! Not a day goes by that I do not think of Shawna and I am so blessed to have had her in my life.

More to come, I promise, promise, promise!

Life is good ... sticky fingers with ice cream good.

What A Difference A Year Makes!

2008-09-14T21:40:00.000-07:00

This week I celebrated my First Chemoversary! My last injection of Taxol was on September 10, 2007. I remember feeling so scared at that last appointment. I became so use to the regimen of living with cancer and my mental mindset was what got me through the first 7 months. I was determined to make it through the grueling treatments because I knew that is what it was going to take to get my baby here safely and ensure that I would be around to be the mother to him I had always imagined I would get to be. I felt as though my shield against cancer was being stripped away once chemo ended. I was going to have to venture off into no-man's-land with no weapon or aresonal against cancer; just me, myself and I up against cancer. What did the future hold for me? Was I strong enough to ward off this monster of a disease until my surgery date and beyond? Gosh, I remember being so very petrified to finish my treatments.

And then, once chemo did in fact end, and as the days turned to weeks and to months, I remember panicking that my hair wasn't going to come back! I remember about mid-November I still didn't have much regrowth and I thought to myself, "Of course, leave it to me. I'll be the only person in the world who's hair won't come back after chemo. Go figure. Why can't I have these odds when there's money on the other end. Hair. Really, give me a break already."

Break, did I ever get one! My hair (as discussed in earlier posts) has come back with a vengeance! People are finally getting use to my curls and the questions of whether my hair is permed have finally subsided. Now the staple commentary is "Oh my goodness, look at how much hair you have!" It is hilarious. Really. The comments are probably meant with the best intentions, but they come off making me feel a little alienish - in a way apposite to being bald! I laugh it off for the most part. But the next year will be a test of my creativity in dealing with the commentary and my own self-consciousness with the "Bo-Zo the Clown" mullet I am sporting. Really, if I just dyed it red, yellow and blue, Blake would be fired up!

So, I made it a year out from chemo. In "one piece" so to speak. I survived without poison injections. Wow. I was walking on clouds this week thinking about where Rigo and I have come in the last year. Man, oh man. I look back on this year and think that I have lived more life in one year than your average person would in 5 or 10 years. This has been a LONG year for me to say the least. But that just adds to the sweetness of this First Chemoversary! I am aiming for 5 years out ... that is my target. I am taking it a day at a time, each day chomping away at that ever-so-critical 5 year marker! Bring it on baby. One down, four to go.

And what a difference a year makes. Life has gone from sitting in The Room with poison drips eating away at my veins making me look like a crack addict, neuropathy in my hands and feet, nails black, bald head, Buddha belly, joint and bone aches, newborn at home, mentally, emotionally and physically trying to prepare for my bilateral mastectomy to one year later with a head of vibrant, black curls, picture perfect fingernails and toenails (they do get back to normal in time), color to my skin, belly not-so Buddha, joints as strong as ever, full feeling returned to my hands and feet, implants in and settling, and most important of it all, MY BABY BOY STARTED WALKING TODAY!!!!!!!

Woohoo!!! Blake Michael (who turned 14 months old today, on Sept. 14th) woke up this morning and started walking on his own accord, just like y'all said he would! : ) I couldn't be any happier than I am right now. Blake is such a precious blessing to Rigo and I. He is simply flourishing for anyone who may still be wondering how the chemo has affected him. Quite simply, it hasn't affected him. He is my angel! I know I could never adequately put it into words how much joy Blake brings to me and how rich and full he makes my life. Today as he was bouncing around with his giggles pouring over, I couldn't help but burst into laughter with him ... just him and me sitting on the floor laughing our heads off at God knows what! I just realized that I don't need chemo injections to fight breast cancer. Blake is my shield, the perfect dose to fight this cancer. I truly believe that with Blake in my life, I have all I need to win this battle with cancer and hit my 5 year target. Lots of laughter, kisses and hugs; I get to watch over his sweet little dreams, see his boundless sense of adventure, and am inspired by his mighty courage. I love you Blaker. Mommy is so, so proud of you!

The Greatest Milestone Yet

2008-09-06T22:49:00.000-07:00

It is such a mixed blessing being pregnant with cancer. One of the positives is that I can count Blake and his achievements as my own "cancer journey milestones." The way I look at it, everything Blake becomes, everything that Blake is, is a step in the right direction for me to move beyond my journey with cancer.

Blake Michael turned 1 years old on July 14, 2008! He rocks! My little chemo champ, my trooper, he is going strong. All Blake becomes and all he is is in a way telling cancer, "don't mess with Blake's Mama."

We made it to Blake's 1st birthday. Boo-ya cancer.

Life is good. Blake, mommy loves you. Blake, we are the sky.

Going Strong ...

2008-09-06T22:34:00.001-07:00

Curls, curls and more curls. My curls are going strong. No indication whatsoever of my hair straightening out. I have chemo curl. Along with my battlefield wounds that I ever so proudly wear on my chest, my curls serve as my daily reminder that breast cancer has made a profound impact on my life. Because of cancer, I have learned to appreciate my curls, curls and more curls as if they were made of gold. While not my choice of hairstyle, I have a head FULL of black curls. It is such an interesting conflict. I really do hate my hairstyle and the "in between" stage that I'll be in for the next two years, but I REALLY, REALLY do love my hair. Does that make sense? I love it. I love washing my hair in the morning and the suds from the shampoo. I love that for the last week, I have had to use a towel to pat dry my hair and I just bought a blow dry to zap my hair in the morning. I love that I can run my fingers through my hair and my fingers get stuck making their way through the maze of curls. I hate my hairstyle, but oh, how I love my hair. Yes, I believe hair is overrated, but how I love my hair.

Better Late Than Never

2008-09-06T21:16:00.001-07:00

So much for my weekly posts. Well, I am finally getting to it so let's get caught up.

On June 19, 2008, I underwent my bilateral silicone implant exchange at Stanford Hospital. Rigo and I headed up north the day before for my pre-op appointments. My surgeon, Dr. Kahn, completed the procedure in a matter of few hours and it was generally uneventful from his perspective. As for me, I'd have to also say it was rather uneventful, which boggles my mind. Prior to surgery, I had been back at work since the first of December and busy with Blaker. Going back in for surgery was just another bump in the road. I was excited and hopeful for the results, but at the same time, anxious and doubtful about the final product. Not only from a cosmetic end, but doubtful that this procedure would in fact mark the end to my journey with cancer. While the bilateral exchange does not directly relate to my cancer treatment, the likelihood of having to have a subsequent surgery for corrective steps is very great. Torn. That is what I felt going in for the surgery. Excited to be done and "complete," but anxious that I wouldn't be quite "complete" nor finished.

I stayed in the hospital overnight and the nurses were good. Typically, a bilateral exchange does not require an overnight stay, but because the hospital was hours away from my home, my surgeon wanted to be safe and have me bunk up for the night. Rigo was able to stay in the hospital room with me, which was great. Blaker stayed in Fresno with my parents ... and kept an eye on Tiki too. Knowing he was in good hands was a huge relief for Rigo and me.

Before checking out, my surgeon outfitted me with a compression garment for my implants which I am to wear 23 hours a day and instructed me to leave my bandages on at least until I returned for my follow-up in a week. Hence, at this point, I had not seen my implants. I left the hospital on a Friday morning and the best part of it all - drain free! I was able to maneuver the seat belt for our trip home unlike the drive home following the mastectomy.

Pain was manageable. It was present, oh, ever so present, but bearable. On a scale of 1 to 10, I was probably an 8 at this point. I was on antibiotics to ward off infection and Ativan to help sleep. My back bothered me alot. I think my body was adjusting to the new me and my back bore the brunt of it. I slept in an incline position because that felt most comfortable. At this point, any movement of my chest bothered me. I was too sore from the surgery. The wonderful part about this surgery versus the mastectomy, besides being drain free, was that I did not have any incision in my armpit (node removal), which was a huge relief and helped make the recovery much, much, much more comfortable.

For the first 48 hours once I came home, I don't remember much besides sleeping alot! In fact, my brother and family from Atlanta was in town and my adorable niece Lyla had her 1st birthday at my house the day after I came home. I think the party went off great and Lyla had a nice time, but to tell you the truth, I don't remember it at all ... I had to ask Rigo how I got to bed, how Blake did and who was at the house. All in all, I did great. Within four to five days, I was off the Ativan completely. I returned to work within 2 weeks, which was nice to get back to normal.

Don't get me wrong, I had a lot of bumps. We returned to Stanford for an initial follow-up and I got my first glimpse of the girls. My reaction was that as my doctor was talking, I told him I had to lay down because I felt like I was going to faint. Haha. They weren't that bad (it is all relative!). I came down with this vertigo issue like I've never experienced before and I remember it began right around the follow-up time. I suffered with this vertigo issue for about 6 weeks and it was very intense. So severe that I had Rigo and friends drive me to work for a few days and went to get a brain MRI just in case. All cleared by the doctors. They suspect it was an ear, nose, throat thingy, but suppose we'll never know. I am balanced now!

Worse part of it all - (and the reason why I went back to work probably a week too early) ... being home with Blaker drove me crazy because I wanted to hold him, change him, carry him, dance with him, put him in his highchair - all the things mommies do, but I couldn't because of the lifting restriction and I simply didn't have the strength. My little monster keeps on growing and he was off limits post-surgery. I can get down and play with him and read to him and do all the fun activities, but when it came to caring for him and attending to him, I was so very limited. That is the toughest pill to swallow. Being with my baby boy, but not being able to do much. Talk about questioning your own competency. Needless to say, returning to work helped alleviate any self-loathing issues. Getting back to the daily grind played a number on my body and fatigue was pretty tough. But once again, the family helped me out in every sense of the way and allowed me to catch up on my rest when I got home everyday.

Well. The girls. How are they? They are sisters, not twins. That is how my surgeon was able to explain their differences to Rigo and I in a way that we understood him. You see, they are okay. Disclaimer, they are still changing - ALOT! Everyday I notice substantial changes in appearance and feeling from the day before. With that said, I haven't yet drawn a conclusion about how I feel about. What I can say is that they are better than I expected. I suppose I went in expecting the worse, hoping for the best. Well, they are better than the worse. They are smaller than I was before. I am most impressed by my scars. I expected a much more visible scar. It healed rather nicely. In fact, I like the scar just the way it is and am glad it is there. My battlefield wound.

So, after my initial follow-up, I returned for a second follow-up three weeks out. This was my peak - I LOVED my girls at this point. The left side (cancer side) was much more natural in feeling and appearance - squishy. My right side was much harder - scar tissue buildup was much more intense on this side. Three weeks out, I didn't realize it at the time, but I was still very swollen. So the size was nice. Not huge, but full. I definitely had disparities, but they were nuances compared to what I had once feared. My surgeon pointed out that 3 months post surgery, we can discuss any corrective measures that need to be taken, but for the most part, he was very pleased with the results. Rigo and I were very happy with the results at this point, but to explain it - each side was great individually. However, they didn't quite match up. The right was great. The left was great. Together, they just didn't match. My surgeon went on to explain that because he was working with my body, which is asymmetrical, and working with NO breast tissue, he had to "reconstruct" breasts. Essentially, imagine Playdoh. He had to sculpt folds and cleavage. None of that existed. The expanders helped aid in the reconstruction process, but it was pretty much a blank palate. As such, he explained that the result of the reconstruction were sisters, but not twin breasts. They are related and similar in nature, but not identical. You can tell them apart and see their differences, but their pedigree runs strong! Ah, makes sense. We left the follow-up satisfied. Happy. Life is good.

Well, back to Fresno, the land of the "oh my goodness, I am on my own. My doctor is how far away." So, about the 4th week out, I noticed the right side, which was rock hard from the scar tissue, was covered in bruises and black. I wasn't sure if I had some internal bleeding, so I called my surgeon. The on-call surgeon from Stanford was awesome and asked me to email him a picture to avoid a trip to the Bay Area. After tinkering with the camera and computer (and freaking out any hackers), a click and send away, he calmed our fears that the bruising, albeit to only one side, was nothing too worry about. The bruising just indicates that the right side suffered a little more trauma during the surgery, but there was no bleeding he was worried about. With that said, it was and continues to be, a wait and see approach.

Within time, the bruising went away. And everyday brings a new feel and a new look. I can't quite tell if both sides are a moving and a shaking, or if it is one side moving which just makes it look like both are. Literally speaking, they do NOT move. They just sit there. But the implants and/or pocket is shifting. The implant sits in a different spot based on my body, activities, etc. It is searching for a home and hasn't quite settled. And until then, my future with tube tops, spaghetti strap dresses, halter tops and v-neck tops remains uncertain.

As for satisfaction, I hesitate to say since I know they can (and will) change tomorrow. Right now I can say I am more pleased than I expected when I started the reconstruction path. I am proud of my scars. I miss my natural breasts. I miss their size. I miss wearing anything I dang well wanted too. I don't mind sleeping on my back. I never was a stomach sleeper. I am anxious for my next follow-up in October. I am nervous he will say we are done. No more corrective procedures. That means these are what I am going to live with. That's it. Such finality. I am scared he'll say I should consider corrective procedures to enhance my results. I am tired of doing this back and forth. I miss being a mom to Blake without conditions. Will there ever be such a thing for me? I feel like I have had so many limitations to what kind of parent I can be because of this nonsense. Is it worth it? I ask myself that all the time. I remember just like it was yesterday, I would be crying and in agony with pain begging Rigo to let me quit. I was tired of the trips, the pain was unbearable and in the end, the foobs would be ugly anyways. Please, let me quit. He didn't. I told him I would be honest and tell any other woman in similar circumstances to NOT go through with reconstruction. Well, today I can say thank you Rigo. Thank you for not letting me quit. While the memories are vivid, they are memories. The pain is gone. The trips have ceased. Life is back to just that - life. Work, baby, family. I am happier with the girls than I ever hoped for. Life is good.

We went to Costco today. The three of us. As I was walking through the can food section, I stopped Rigo. I said to him, "remember just a few months ago, I couldn't make it all the way through Costco. I would have to stop 3/4 of the way through, drag myself to the car, tears well up with pain and fatigue, drag myself out of the car, flop into bed and sleep the aches away." Wow, what a difference a day makes. Life is good. Thank you God Almighty.

Life is precious. I am ever so thankful. Thank you God for granting me this day. Another sunrise. Another sunset. Another day to share with my boys, Blaker and Rigs. Thank you God. Life is good.

Raging Winds Equals Huge Milestone!

2008-05-21T20:12:00.000-07:00

Today was a day of victory! I was overwhelmed with pride for how far we've come, excitement for what lies ahead and relief for what I can finally leave behind me.

What am I talking about?

Every chemo patient's biggest concern (okay, at least every 20-something chemo patient's biggest concern) ... MY HAIR!

Yes, today was a monumental milestone day for me and my new 'do. I was walking into my office this afternoon. The winds here are gusting at about 20-30 mph, which in short makes it super windy today. As I was walking, I caught a glimpse of my shadow. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my shadow and a tiny piece of hair at the very top of my head blowing in the wind. It was amazing, simply put - amazing. My full head of thick, newly acquired, very, very curly hair which resembles nothing what it looked like before I began this journey (pic in post is hair before chemo) and amongst this thick bushel of curly black hair, a tiny piece made its way to get just long enough to BLOW WILDLY IN THE WIND!

This is huge! Half of the amazement is that I can marvel at such a small and what should be trivial event, assuming this qualifies as an event. Well, an event it is, at least to me. I haven't had enough hair to blow in any which direction for at least 14 months! That one little piece of hair that managed to catch some air today. That piece of hair for a brief moment served as my little carrot dangling right before my eyes leading me towards full and complete recovery.

Life is so strange and this cancer journey has taught me so much in certain ways. Look, this hair victory ... before cancer, I use to waste energy on complaining on a super windy day such as today that my hair was in my face and getting all tangled and simply act bothered by the wind and its effect on my hair. Now, in just a few short months, I have come to relish in the simple joy of a tiny little strand of hair at the top of my head blowing in the wind.

Blow strand, blow.

Today was a victory. Life is good, oh yes it is.

Back on Track

2008-05-11T21:28:00.000-07:00

So, I haven't posted my progress in awhile. I am going to try to sum it up with as much detail as necessary, but without overdoing it if that makes any sense.

In my last post, I noted that I was going in for a corrective surgery on my left expander. My left expander was leaking and causing a significant amount of discomfort and most importantly, not expanding my skin as necessary for the exchange surgery. (Exchange is referred to to describe the stage in reconstruction which the expanders are removed and swapped out for implants.)

I was quite apprehensive about the corrective surgery for a host of reasons. Of biggest concern to Rigo and I was that we weren't exactly sure what the heck was gonna happen during the surgery - was one coming out and one going back in? What was going back in? An expander with no saline, 100 cc of saline, 300 cc of saline? Was an implant going to be squeezed in there? The doctor was concerned about the risks associated with too many surgeries so perhaps he was going to try to consolidate. The pain associated with the surgery? The risk-benefit. Was this one going to work or just leak again? Why did it leak? Was the expander was a lemon or was my body rejecting it? Was it something I did? What about the baby, the fast-growing aka getting very heavy baby? How long until I could carry him again? And work. I am back at work and I love it. How long was I going to be off this time? So many concerns faced Rigo and I and we had very few answers.

This was unlike us. Throughout this journey, Rigo and I have had an ample amount of information and resources on the treatment and procedures, all of which have been pretty vanilla. But this corrective surgery was so unexpected and came on so fast. We didn't have time to get much more information than what we went in with. The options were to go through with trying to fix it or just throw in the towel. While there were days my vote was to give back the towel ... I didn't need these foobs as bad as I once had thought, Rigo reminded me that we've come this far. He reminded me to look past where we stood in the present and put myself 6 months out, 2 years out, 10 years out. That is so very hard for me - to think of myself in the future. That is still very, very difficult. I have no problem fantasizing and planning for Blake's future or even Rigo's future, but my own future is tough. But the wise soul he is, he was right.

We went forward with the left-side capsulectomy on January 31, 2008. I had the left expander removed, scar-tissue was gutted out (the scar tissue build-up all around the left expander likely became so tight around it that the expander just popped - yes, it popped) and a new expander with 150 cc's was put in and I was sealed up. We stayed at Stanford Hospital one night and headed home to greet my buster brown the next morning. The entire surgery was only a few hours and Rigo and my dad were there with me when I went in and when I came out from surgery. Grams was with Blaker. My drains were removed before I left the hospital. Going home without drains is such a morale booster. Really, life without drains is a beautiful thing.

I am so grateful and pleased to report that the surgery was a huge success. I was back to work within days and holding Blake within 4 weeks. The pain was minimal and I was able to reserve the pain medicatio to help me sleep with occasional back pain. The hardest part was not knowing if the surgery worked - was all this worth it? We wouldn't know until we've had a fill or two to see if the skin was stretching and the expander was growing, but in the end, the girl became girls!

While my right side was expanded very slowly to try to maintain some sense of balance with my defunct left leaker, my new and improved lefty caught up in about four fills. So if I have the numbers right, it was about 8 fills (right) to 4 fills (left). The fill process was amazingly different with a fully-sealed expander. The fill procedure was painless and I was able to tolerate about 80cc's per visit. However, it was apparent that my body was having a hard time keeping up with the shock it was going through. My back bothered me constantly. The amount of pressure and stretching caused so much havoc to my back that sleeping became a dreaded chore. Laying down in a flat position was unbearable. And while I craved Blake's comfort, his agility and strength was hard to keep up with.

I brought the back pain up to my oncologist, Dr. Perkins at my follow-up appointment a couple of weeks ago. While he was doubtful it was anything to be concerned about, he requested a bone scan. A bone scan takes an image of every bone in your entire body and will show shading of areas that may be cause for concern. I am getting a little sleepy, so I will write more about this whole bone scan, body imaging, getting the results back experience from the doctor another time, but good news - no evidence of disease and my back is much better!

In the end, which was late March, I wrapped up my fills with about 470cc's on either side.

I am happy. They are nice. My girls. Well, not quite my girls, they are just like spacers, fillers, temp's as my dad would refer to Rigo when he was a substitute teacher. I'm not getting too attached to them knowing I'll soon have to part from them, but needless to say, I am pretty dang impressed. I have a nice set of temp's. They are full and grandiose. I bump into things and realize only after the fact, hey, that was my foob (no functionable nerve sensations in my chest so I have the whole delayed reaction going on).

My foobs give me hope for the girls. Kudos to Dr. Kahn. So far so good. Don't get me wrong. The left is like 4 inches higher than the right and the scars are as clear as day, but after going through the process it makes so much more sense to me how Dr. Kahn and Dr. Perkins often emphasized "realistic expectations." I am so pleased. Despite my huge symmetrical differential and horizontal zipper across my chest, my surgeon literally made something out of nothing. It is amazing to see firsthand. I can see my ribs sitting right below my thin layer of skin. I can even see so much more clearer how all that sat in between my skin and bones has been gutted out and cleared away to make nothing but a clean slate. Before going through reconstruction I understood the concepts, I just couldn't fully conceptualize it. Now, now that I have completed the expansion process, I can fully appreciate the challenges and the skill associated with reconstruction - with recreating breasts from nothing but a thin layer of skin and an asymmetrical and un-bluprinted body.

I am pleased beyond my wildest dreams. At this point. Today I am fully expanded. My exchange surgery lies ahead of me. On June 19th, I will embark on my final invasive surgical procedure associated with cancer and when I wake up from surgery, I will finally get to meet my new girls. Until then, it's me and my temp's. Life is good.

Happy Mother's Day "dah-dah"

2008-05-11T20:32:00.000-07:00

One year ago today, I was celebrating the impending birth of our first born at a baby shower given to me by my mom and mother-in-law and sister-in-law. The Milagros (Grandma Margarita calls Blake our miracle of God - Cardinal Rule - Don't argue with Grandma Margarita) that was yet to be. And now as we are winding down from this weekend's festivities, I am back on the blog to write and share what a wonderful experience this motherhood thing has been. Today was my first Mother's Day and while it is probably just another chance for corporate America to make some more money and average Americans to go into debt another few hundred bucks (yes Ma, I agree with you on that point), today was a huge triumph for Blake, Rigo and I.

Happy's Mother's Day "dah-dah." That's it ... that is what we get with our little buster brown at this point. As we embark on Blake's 10-month birthday, we are privy only to "dah-dah" and now, "bah." Nope, Blake can't quite say "mama" yet. I was banking on a Mother's Day "mama." Now that would be my Milagros of a child - "mama" on Mother's Day! Well, things didn't quite work out that way today, but nonetheless ... I am one PROUD Mama!

Blake is 19 pounds, getting his third tooth and has had 4 haircuts! He is one fast army-crawler and his happiest with Tiki at his side or his best bud Kolton giving him one-on-one attention. Blake is full of curiosity at this age and getting into as much as his little legs and arms can get him into. We are in swimming classes right now and are in the works for the big First birthday. Everyday is truly a new adventure and nothing seems to repeat itself. It is all new ... to Blake, Mom and Dad ... the true essence of Rookies - first time parents! But things couldn't be better and life is good. More on that to come ...

Saturday we rose at 2am to get on the road to Sacramento for Blake's second Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Rigo, Blake and I ran the 5k in about 32 minutes ... what a victory for me. Seriously, when I think about it for too long, I get teary-eyed.

Last year, May 2007, Rigo took me to the Sacramento Race for the Cure when I was about 7 months pregnant and 5 months into chemo and we walked the 5k course. This weekend was a monumental milestone for our little family to reach. As the three of us darted (okay, drug) across the finish line on Saturday morning, the three of us in a pink sea of 25,000 participants deep, we stood together as a family united against this demon like never before. Last year's race when we crossed the finish line, my frail but very pregnant body, my hopeful but worn down spirit and my rock of a husband but a husband who ached for his wife's pains, the two of us we telling cancer and telling the world at the same time that "We'll be back ... don't count us out yet."

Well, 2008 and we are back. We are now three and we are stronger than ever! The three of us crossed that finish line and told cancer "YOU LOST!" Saturday morning for the two-nanoseconds that we got to own that finish line, we had a moment to tell cancer and tell the world that "cancer has nothing on our family. Rigo and I are not letting anything, anyone or any lame disease get in our way of making a damn good life for Blake." Okay, so there are a lot of things that I want to tell cancer when cancer and I get a chance to sit down and chat, but for the sake of never dealing with cancer again, let's just say it was a Shutout on Saturday.

Ledezma 1-Cancer 0.

Thanks Foret and Andres for being the best cheerleaders we could have hoped for!

Much love to my dear cousin, my dear friend and my true inspiration Sonia for inviting us to join her and her family at the 5th Annual Latinas Contra Cancer Walk in San Jose. This was a beautiful event with a priceless message to my true survivor sisters.

And finally, Mama, thank you. Thank you for your love, commitment, strength and support over the last year. The things you have had to do over the last year, no mother should have to do that for their child. It pains me in ways I could never imagine before and now that I am a mother to think of what you have had to go through with me over the last year. It pains me even more to think that mothers have to walk the same steps every day. Tomorrow, a mother will learn her daughter has cancer.

Mom, I hate that you had to waste even one day being on this cancer crusade with me - your positive energy, your optimistic spirit, your rays of sunshine are much more deserving of your dotting grandchildrens company. But I have to say, since neither you or me were given a vote to get on this train, we like so many other families are just thrown on board, I can't begin to tell you how glad I am you didn't jump off the train. Ugh, the keeping track of all my pills, bringing me coffee in bed, making sure I had the most current gossip magazines, changing Blake's diapers, doing the countless loads of our laundry, and lets not forget the cookies. It never ends. Thank you for keeping my house, my family, my life in order. I love you. Happy Mother's Day Mama.

365 Days Down ...

2008-02-13T21:36:00.001-08:00

It has been 365 days that I have been living with cancer.

Yes, in a few short hours, I will be honoring my 1st Cancerversary ...

Oh boy, there were so many days I wasn't sure if I could muster enough strength to get through the night, let alone a whole year of this. And lo and behold, here we are ... one year later. On Valentine's Day ... one full year we've been living with this ... definitely a nightmare in so many ways, but then again ... it's life ... and life is so much more than "this."

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls ... WE made it! Woohoo ... WE ALL ROCK! (God Rocks)!

EACH one of you have played such an integral part in getting me here today ... WE made it!

Cheers to many more cancerversaries!

I've Sprung A Leak ...

2008-01-26T16:33:00.000-08:00

GUILTY! I feel so terribly guilty for barely getting to the blog today. I know ... it has been forever, but in the big C-World, no news is good news. Well, sorta.

Ah, the last six weeks have just flown by. Rigo and I have been going to Stanford once a week for my expansion fills. No more topical burning pain ... I apparently suffered an allergic reaction during my first fill and have since been okay. The fills have been coming along pretty well. I tolerate about 40-60 cc's per visit, on my right side. My doctor has been pretty awesome in allowing me to go at a slower pace so I don't experience as much pain. The actual expansion in the doctor's office is not that bad ... completely tolerable. The pain sets in that night and the next day, tapering off on day 2 and by day 3 it is completely gone. The pain from the expansion is extreme soreness and stiffness. I can't really use my arms to push up or down, so getting out of bed, I roll myself out ... just like being 9 months pregnant again! hehe. I also feel a tremendous amount of strain in my upper back and shoulders from my body adjusting to the change. It is so amazing ... to actually feel my body adjusting to a little added weight in my chest. The havoc a few cc's can cause. I haven't been using any pain meds, so despite the soreness, I generally feel good.

On that note, many of you have already heard, but I am going back in for surgery at Stanford this Thursday, January 31st. In my prior posts, I hinted that my left side (cancer side) is not taking to the expansion like my right side was. My doctor wasn't sure what was going on, but he had an awful lot of theories and wanted to take the "wait and see" approach as long as possible. Each additional surgery poses a new set of risks that he was hoping to avoid.

Well, I am at 470 cc's in each side, and let me tell you, my right side looks dang good! Well, for being a half of a fake boob (hereinafter referred to as my "foob") with no nipple and a nasty scar going across the center of it ... I AM IMPRESSED! Really, in all honesty, I am so much more happier with my right side than I ever expected to get from this process. With that said, it should get waaay better once I swap out this brick of an expander for an implant. It is funny, I never thought I'd get excited about any part of this process, but as I get closer to finishing, I can't wait to see how it turns out. As for my right side, my doctor thinks we are done or close to done on the fills. While there is no conversion for real breasts to reconstructed breasts in regards to size (I have no breast tissue so it can't be measured and everybody is different from each other), he believes I am close to my natural size. Woohoo ... now, on the right side, it just has to sit and heal for a month or two and we can swap it out for the implant! Life is good ...

But it's life. With life, with my life, comes curve balls. Did I mention baseball season is in full swing in the Ledezma household? Well, just to make things exciting, my left side never caught up to my right side. Actually, it never took shape. It has more than 400 cc's of saline in it, but it is nothing more than a little mound ... yes, I look like a pre-teen ready for a training bra on my left side and I feel like Dolly Parton on my right side. Let's just say it is a little off balance.

My plastic surgeon is 100 percent certain my left expander is leaking. Yep, leaking. I don't feel it. It doesn't hurt. And, no, (Jen Hawley) I am not wet ... it is leaking internally. I am okay, it is saline and not harmful to the body. Why am I leaking? Scar tissue build-up is a risk associated with any major surgery. In my case, after my mastectomy, in which they had to dig and scaple on my left/cancer side, the wound healed, but did so with a tremendous amount of scar tissue. The scar tissue surrounded the expander so tight that over the last 14 weeks as we tried to fill the expander against the scar tissue, the bag popped. So that's the theory. I am having a Capsuloctomy this Thursday to exchange my expander for a new one and I suppose the doctor will be able to see what exactly happened then. The surgery is only to my left side, but it is a pretty extensive surgery. I will be under, the expander will be swapped for a new one (hopefully with lots of saline in it so I don't have to start from the beginning with my fills), my scar tissue will be cleaned out, I will be sewn back up and going home the next day with a new set of drains ... ugh, the drains have got to be the worst part of this. Well, the drains and not being able to hold Blake for another 4 to 6 weeks!!!! Thanks for your help Rigo, Mom and Dad (I love you)!

I really don't care too much why it happened. I mean, yes, I care. We've come this far to quit now. But we are tired. Rigo and I, and Blake too for that matter. We are tired of the drives, of the waiting, of the healing and recovering. I have had a taste of "normal" life over the last few weeks and mmm, it tastes good! Life is good and I am having a blast living it. I knew I had to prepare myself for my exchange surgery in a few months to get my implants, but that was going to be the end of this for the most part. There was something in it at the end for me with that. This, well this is just totally unexpected. I mean, I am not mentally prepared for this at all. I am not that upset because I am not in any added pain with this complication, but for goodness sakes already, cut me some slack! I have no idea how much time this is actually going to put me behind, but it for sure will add another month or two or three to the mix. Well, that's the way it goes I suppose. I do have to say, I am grateful I have such vested physicians who aren't brushing me off and want to get this done the right way. I know other people would disagree and argue that they may be the reason I am in this predicament, but at this point I can't say they are. So, with that, we are headed back to the operating room this week and I am headed in with my chin held high ... because at the VERY end of all this, I will still be cancer free and have a new set of foobs! I am so getting a kick-ass vacation this year! Babysitter, anyone?

Well, that is the bad news. I am leaking. But ah, the last two months have been amazing. I have been on such a roller coaster of emotions and events and experiences. Of course I haven't gotten to blog because this whole new mom-thing leaves little time for that, but maybe a little part of me has avoided blogging as a way to keep moving forward and forgo pausing to reflect on these last few months.

The last few months have been such a blessing. I mean, things are changing. They are tough. Life gets busy. Rigo and I are exhausted juggling everything. The bills seem to pile up. Gas to Stanford sucks. But, oh ... I absolutely in every possible way LOVE that these trivial matters are becoming my new concerns and replacing my old fears and constant contemplation of tumors, white blood cell counts, doctor appointments, my immune system stability, prescription drug refills and basic survival. Ah, the beauty of running late to work, wondering if I can afford a new pair of heels that I don't really need but the few extra inches do so much for the figure, and making sure I catch the new episode of Nip Tuck before I fall sound to sleep for the next day. Ah, sound sleep ... just that in of itself is such a beautiful thing. (THANK YOU BLAKE).

The memories are there. The reminders are everywhere. I am thankful for those. I am proud of my journey. I will never forget the valleys my family and I walked. It is those valleys that make me LOVE my new head of jet black hair. Yes, in the cancer world, my hair is referred to as a sheep's ass ... it is so true and paint's a perfect picture for those of you that haven't gotten the distinct pleasure of seeing me lately, but for the black hair. But I love it. I mean, it is not my hair style of choice, but come on ... it is soooo much better than the alternative. My journey has taught me to cherish the little things and for that I hope I will never forget.

FYI, I decided to shelve my wigs on New Year's Eve. I worked on 12/31 and thought what a great way to end 2007 and bring in 2008 with my OWN hair! Since then, the wigs haven't come out of the closet.

As for work, Blake and I have adjusted splendidly. Yes, I said splendidly. To be honest, I was so freaked out of the transition back to work. Could I keep up? Would I be incompetent - chemo brain is a scary thing? Would Blake hate us? Would I hurt, physically? Would I be happy?

Well, let's just say, I hate that I have to have this stupid surgery this week because I hate to not get to go to work. I have been having such a great time. I love it. I love my assignment, I love the people, I love getting up and going to work every single day. Trust me, I LOVE going home each day too, but ah, this has been so good for me. For us. For Rigo and Blake too. I think Blake is doing great. He is happy, healthy (but for his first ear infection this week, but that's life), growing, laughing. My work is fabulous and they have all been so understanding with my schedule when I have appointments, from the top-down. Being back in court was a little overwhelming at first, but it makes the day fly by and is simply put, the best free entertainment ever! All in all, life is good and getting back to work has truly been the best thing for me.

Blake is so awesome. He turned 6 months old last week and weighs 16 lbs 4 oz. He is so funny and makes us laugh all the time. He giggles at the drop of a hat and does the best belly laugh ever. He loves attention and likes to be talked too. Trust me, he does his fair share of talking too. He is loud. He'll be silent as can be for 2 hours and then for 20 minutes straight he'll goo and gaa without taking a breath. It is hilarious. He can sit up on his own for the most part and loves to sleep and play on his belly. It won't be long before he can crawl. He has grown out of so many clothes and toys and has moved onto anything that makes noise and lights up. And now that he is coordinated enough to use his hands, his number one goal throughout the day is to see what he can put into his mouth over the span of a day. This kid loves having things in his mouth. I have to be careful because if I turn my head for a moment, he has Tiki's ear in his mouth. We get daily notes from daycare and he loves to play and talk with his friends, Calvin, Cooper, Aiden and another little girl. Calvin and Blake rock out on the playmat and talk back and forth to each other. Life is good.

I had my second follow-up with my oncologist this week since my cancer treatments ended. All is well. It was so ironic. Dr. Perkins told me that he missed us. After treating me for so long and getting comfortable with Rigo and I, he had to adjust to not seeing us as much. He said that he just looked on his schedule to see when I was coming in. That is so funny because I went through all those separation withdrawals from him and his staff at my last chemo. Having my last chemo was such a mentally and emotionally challenging event for me. Getting use to not being treated takes time. But here I am ... four months out and he just notices we aren't there every week. While it is very flattering (good student - good patient phenomenon), I had to reply and say I am so over it! Woohoo! I am so getting back to "normal" because I don't miss Dr. Perkins or his staff anymore. Don't get me wrong. Dr. Perkins and his office are my angels and I will always and forever hold them near my hearts ... I can't look at Blake and not count my blessing for each one of them, especially Dr. Perkins. They are truly amazing! But I have moved on. I am over treatment. And I am okay with that. In fact, I love being done. I knew I was back to "normal" as I was waiting in Dr. Perkins waiting room this week looking at my watch and thinking how I had so many better things to be doing with my time than sitting in that office! While that may be a typical response for many of you when you visit your doctor's, that hasn't been my response over the last year. I felt safer inside my doctor's offices. But now, I am getting back to normal. I feel impatient.

I have to have my biannual chest x-ray this week. That makes me anxious. To get the results. But I have nothing to worry about. I feel good. And life is good.

Wish me luck this week ... here's to the OR again.

Thank You God!

2007-12-18T08:01:00.000-08:00

Thank you God.

Thank you for letting me wake up this morning.

Thank you for allowing me to see my 28th birthday today, dear God.

Simply put, thank you, dear God, for today.

Today is a good day and life is good.

The Tide Is Turning ...

2007-12-06T18:46:00.000-08:00

So, no news is good news when it comes to a journey with cancer, eh?! I haven't posted for a month and for the most part, we are doing great. I am learning to live my "new normal" life and so much of this "new normal" is being mom to the greatest gift ever, Blake Michael.

Blake is turning 5 months old next week. November was a super exciting month in our household. We had Blake's first Thanksgiving with his great-grandparents, Blake tasted (and loved) rice cereal, oatmeal, squash, green beans and as of last night, sweet peas. While Grandma Julie was in town babysitting, Blake rolled over from his back to his tummy for the first time. Blake also made it to one of my appointments at Stanford and naturally, he was a huge hit! At Blake's 4-month appointment, he was 13 lbs, which is right in the 50th percentile. Rigo and I are having the time of our life watching Blake giggle his way through his days and nights! He brings us such joy and we love that our parents have been such a big part of his short life too. Poppo spent the entire day today (in the rain nonetheless) putting up Christmas lights around the house for Blake's first Christmas and Grandma Julie helped set the tree and house up to get it ready for Blake and his cousins from Atlanta! November was quite a month, but we have a feeling December is going to be just as exciting, if not more.

To my own surprise, I threw myself back into the workforce this week. Rigo and I talked the matter about going back to work for several weeks and it came down to the first of December being as good of a time as ever. I felt great about being given the chance to get back to "normal life" and going back to work is helping me remember what life was like before cancer. I have to admit, the transition is just that ... it's a transition. Getting ready for the first day back was a little nerve-racking ... wig or no wig, prothesis or natural? Then, getting through the day was another challenge in of itself ... as the cancer-girl and as a new mom. I do not think I will ever be able to fully explain the generosity others have been to me during this journey, especially my colleagues, and as much as I do not mind sharing my experience with others, it is a little weird being back at work as the cancer-girl. I mean, in a way I wish I could crawl into a shell and hide. Then there are moments where I want to scream at the defendants in court and tell them to get their life together, don't they know how lucky they are, they have their health ... I had cancer!!!! Ugh, that part drives me crazy. And then there are the physical aspects of being back at work ... for the most part, I feel fantastic and I truly mean that. I remember just a few weeks ago I was begging God to let me go and here I am, back at work, in court all day long and being mom. Thankfully, there is just a little residual pain that I am feeling. I am having a tough time with a little back pain that I am feeling from overcompensating in my walk and posture due to me protecting my chest. My chest has spasms every now and then (worse in the cold) and it doesn't feel good when it gets bumped. I was reaching across the table in court for a pen and ouch! I need to just get up next time and stop being lazy. And of course, the title goes to the exhaustion ... well, that is probably tied up with the chemo-brain. About 2:00pm, I want to throw the towel in, but I am getting through okay. Luckily, Blake is such an amazing sport, he lets Rigo and I get sleep at night, so I am really just competing with the exhaustion of my "new normal" life.

The logistics of work are that I am technically back full-time at the DA's Office. However, because I am still going through reconstruction, I have to take a day off to go to Stanford and then I give myself one day to recuperate. For instance, this week, we went to Stanford on Wednesday and I took today, Thursday off as a rest day. So I worked this week Monday, Tuesday, Friday. But next week, the doctor is not available, so I am working Monday through Friday, all day because I don't have any appointments. I am back in the same unit I was in when I left, misdemeanors. I only have one jury trial under my belt, so it is my goal to get as many trials as possible in the fastest time I can. I am not assigned to a particular courtroom because of my doctor's appointments, so I am helping in all the misdemeanor courtrooms.

As for reconstruction, let's just say November wasn't just a big month for Blake ... it was for me too. My last post was after my first fill ... the first fill was HELL! I had a terrible reaction to the injection and within 24 hours, my skin became burned and within a few days, the burn began to discolor and peel, just like a sunburn, but a BAD sunburn! The burning was all over my upper body, chest, arms and back. I felt it everywhere, but not so much at the injection site which was strange but my skin did peel at the injection sites. I finally figured out that I didn't feel burning at the injection site because I have no feeling in my chest ... it is numb all the time because my nerves were damaged in surgery. I called my surgeon, my oncologist, my therapist for help and no one seemed to know what was going on. None of them had ever seen a reaction like mine. I hated life at this point and the burning was so painful that I couldn't sleep or do anything with Blake. The pain was constant. It wasn't until two weeks later, the middle of November, that Rigo and I went back for my second fill and I was oh, so scared to go through this again. The burning was still present when I went back for the second fill, but it wasn't as severe. I hated the thought of starting that all over again.

My surgeon examined me and with nothing much to go on, he guessed that I may have suffered an allergic reaction to the beta iodine disinfectant used to clean the injection site. This made no sense to me and Rigo because they must have used disinfectant at the surgery and I didn't burn from that. The doctor explained that there are multiple types of disinfectants and that they didn't necessarily use that particular one at surgery. So, the solution was to not use the disinfectant at fill number two ... if I had a reaction again, then I was likely rejecting the expansion process (GREAT) and if I didn't have a reaction, then that was it ... I was allergic to disinfectant ... go figure! Well, life is good. No reaction the second time around. Thank God. And go figure, I'm allergic to disinfectant. I wish I had this kind of luck with the lottery. I am such a one-in-a-million type of girl!

Life after fill number two has been completely tolerable. During the expansion, I receive local anesthetic and the doctor injects saline directly into my breast. I turn my head because I am scared and it hurts like hell, but Rigo says it is pretty amazing to see my breast grow right there in the doctor's office. On average, the typical injection is about 50 to 100 cc's per breast per visit. I think my goal size is around 600 cc's to get me close to my natural breast size, but that is not set in stone and there is no simple conversion for cc's to bra size.

With that said, everyone's body responds totally different to this process. Go figure, one side of my body is responding different to the other side of the body. Hence, my right (healthy) side, looks great and is expanding well. We had our fourth fill this week and the doctor said that we could have been done with my right side if we went full force on that side (100 cc's per visit). Unfortunately, we aren't going full force because my left side is not responding well to the expansion. It seems to be not expanding and the symmetry is totally off. I have nearly the same amount of saline in each side, but there is barely anything visible on my left side. Right side looks like a total foob. The doctor has been explaining all the different things to Rigo and I that are going on with my body, but at this point, he says it is too early to be able to say for sure what, if any, course of action we need to take to correct the situation.

For instance, my left side is so constricted (my scar tissue is constricting/restricting my expander from growing), that I can only tolerate about 20 cc's of saline per visit. Hence, we have a long way to go and are nowhere near finishing. Initially, Rigo and I expected to be done with the expansion process by the end of the year, but at this rate, we feel like we'll be lucky to be done by the middle of the Spring. What is going on? The doctor explained that the expander is contouring inward towards my ribs and not outward like it should to stretch the skin. Great ...
Well, there are a few options, none of which we decide now because the doctor wants to do a few more expansions and see how I respond ... hopefully, I respond fine and the left side will just catch up with the right side and all will work out. Otherwise, one option is to go in and take the expander out, remove the scar tissue build-up and replace the expander with a new one. Another option is to see if the doctor can just squeeze an implant in with what we have. The negative to that is that my goal size may not be achieved since we may have to cut the expansion process short. The doctor explained that we can supplement the implant by using my back muscle for additional size. Ultimately, it is our decision, but one that we don't have to make yet.

I have learned so many lessons over the last year with my journey with cancer. Life is so precious and I am just so grateful to be here to celebrate TODAY with Rigo and Blake. That is the big picture lesson, but one of the many practical lessons I am learning to appreciate is the fluidity of life. Especially with this reconstruction. I get so frustrated and tired traveling back and forth to Stanford (about 7 hour drive each week) and seeing such little progress that I want to just quit. I never truly wanted to quit in my battle with cancer, through chemo, through the mastectomy, I was willing to give it everything I had. But I'm not sure how much more I have in me and for what? Fake boobs that won't even look good? Ugh ... I am trying so very hard to be flexible and deal with the changes in my course of treatment. It is hard though. I know there is a much bigger purpose to why we are going through this and I am trying to keep that in perspective and remember that when we get tired. I don't think the end goal of having scarred, uneven foobs is the lesson Rigo and I are suppose to get from this journey. It isn't clear yet what we are suppose to be getting from this part, the reconstruction, but I am sure in the end, it will be worth it ... and not for the physical or aesthetic benefits. Maybe it is the weekly 7 hour chats Rigo and I get from our drives to Stanford ... really, in the end, these drives together may be just the thing that we are meant to share and get from this journey. Time, the time together and the memories. That I will forever remember and cherish. Thank you Rigo, my love, my friend, for being there and taking care of me. Thank you for sharing the tears and the laughs with me. As much as I hate going every week, I LOVE the time I get to spend with you! (And thank you soooooo much Grandma Julie, Poppo and Nana Linda for spending time with Blake so we can head up to Stanford! You guys are the best!)

With that said, I am a new mom, I am a wife, I am a daughter, I am a sister, I am an aunt, I am a girlfriend, I am a deputy district attorney and I am a cancer survivor. Hence, I wish I could blog more often, but I am adjusting to the "new normal" and find little time to blog. I think of all our family and friends often and think about my journey over the last year. I am thrilled to be embarking on this new chapter of life, life after cancer. Life is good.

One Fill Down ... Too Many To Go!

2007-11-08T11:00:00.000-08:00

Second thoughts. That is what I am having right now as I sit in bed with Tiki sleeping under the covers with me and Blake sleeping soundly beside me. Second thoughts on reconstruction. I have expressed these concerns with many of you and figure it is blog-worthy to fully capture the major tribulations of this journey.

Surgery has been hands-down much harder for me than chemotherapy. One, I had many more months to psyche myself out aka scare myself than I did with chemo. Chemo went so fast for me that I had no time to freak out. Here, I've had plenty of time to research, ponder and fear the worst. Two, I have the blessing of Blake to accompany me now. Ah, the wonders of a three month old can keep me going on and on, but trust me when I say life was VERY different with him living in my tummy than having him nap with me right next to Tiki and I. Don't get me wrong, life is MUCH better with his company, but recovering from surgery and now the reconstruction is tough. It is tough on me, physically and emotionally. I am worn down. Seven months of chemo and having a baby has just simply exhausted me. And now surgery. I find myself getting discouraged and saddened that I can't comfort Blake when he is tired, hungry or lonely. I have amazing parents, Blake's grandparents, who have been here around the clock, but I want to hold him, pick him up, change his diapers (yes, I want to do that) and cuddle.

Yesterday, Rigo and I went to Stanford for my first fill of my expanders. The doctor was able (according to my own tolerance level) to inject 75 cc's of saline into my right breast and 35 cc's of saline into my left breast. Before he did the injection, I received a local anesthetic so the actual injection was much more tolerable than I anticipated.

But, now, ah now, how I feel the pain. And now, now I am having second thoughts.

Why? Lots and lots of reasons. Hopefully, I can lay it out here in a clear manner that isn't too hard to follow.

1. Like a "good patient" (once a nerd, always a nerd), Rigo and I wrote out all of our questions for the Plastic Surgeon (PS) before our appointment. One of our biggest concerns was that I have been more nausea since the day of my surgery to yesterday than I can ever remember being my in my life ... more than baby, more than chemo. Yep, surgery. So, we ask him.

Ah, yes, this jogged his memory and he reminded me that my hospital stay post-surgery (a whole 2 days INCLUDING an 11-hour surgery) was one of the longest he can remember. What a jerk! So, I politely remind him my hospital stay was due in-part to me pucking my guts out as soon as I got out of surgery. Why all the pucking?

We turn to the topic of drugs. He asks what have I been taking? Well, I have weaned to taking only Ativan (sleeping, nausea) and Vicodin (pain). "Why" he asks? Duh, I am puking and hurt, and because my oncologist and general surgeon told me too (in fact, they want me on even more - Valium for spasms in my chest, constipation pills, etc.). So, in his moment of brilliance, he advises me to stop taking those pills altogether ... no prescription meds is how I read him. He recommends Advil or Tylenol only and then, only then, if all else fails, I can take the Vicodin. Hello genius, the Vicodin didn't work to begin with, so fine, I'm done.

Needless to say, I am a little bitter. First he tells me I am a "bad patient" because I stayed in the hospital two nights. Then he tells me I am too reliant on my pain meds. Does he know my history? Despite my sense of entitlement, the stubbornness in me is ready to prove him wrong and I am done ... Rigo will be at Costco this weekend getting me a jumbo container of Tylenol (oh, maybe not because genius-doctor told me not to take too many of those either)! Huh!

Hence, I am sitting here in extreme pain. The pain is constant pressure in my chest and sides, sharp pains and burning in my chest. I have trouble walking around standing up straight because that causes strain in my chest. My dad reminds me to stand up or else I may walk like that permanently.

I started therapy this week and am very hopeful that will help in my recovery from the mastectomy. I have pretty good mobility and range back in my right arm, but my left arm is still pretty limited (nodes were taken from the left side). The therapist gave me a gamut of exercises to work on, which I think will help get me up and atom again. I was really excited about all of this. That was, until yesterday when I started the reconstruction process. I feel like as soon as I get two steps forward, this is taking me two steps back. I can't even fathom getting rid of this pain right now. Ugh!

2. Blake. Second thoughts because of Blake. I touched on it, but have to say, I really miss him right now. I spend everyday with him, but despite that, I long for his contact. I haven't been able to hold him on my chest for nearly a month and that makes me sad, so sad my heart hurts. People warned me the ballgame would be different once I became a mother, but I wasn't quite ready for this. I am tired and I miss Blake. I want to be his mommy, a mommy who can hug him, carry him and hold him and I just don't have the strength yet.

3. The outcome. I am having second thoughts because of the outcome. Everyone has heard me bant on about my concerns about the end product. I didn't go into reconstruction with unrealistic expectations about what the end product would be. Although I expect to not like what I see, I have to admit I am a little bit hopeful to be surprised. I have to say, at this point with expanders, I am pretty impressed with my right breast. But ah, the left, the cancer-side. Woohoo! This breast, or what's left of a breast can tell a story all on it's own. Let's just say, in my wildest dreams, I didn't expect this.

The expansion process is just one part of the reconstruction. Afterwards, I'll have an implant exchange and most likely another surgery to correct anything that needs to be corrected. That is what I am looking forward too, the exchange. With that, the final product will come and the closest I will ever get to having breasts again. Unfortunately, along with the stinging and burning pain, the PS yesterday forewarned me that the disparity I see between the two breasts today will likely be there after the exchange as well.

What? Are you kidding me? I am going through all this and you can't even give me two ugly breasts that match? Ugh ... let's just say I am having second thoughts about all this.

Nonetheless, I am hopeful. I am hopeful that I am cancer-free and will stay cancer-free for many, many decades (about eight or nine). October came and went in a blink and with that, so did breast cancer awareness month. I had two television interviews, a newspaper interview (that never ran, but it was a great experience) and participated with WAY TOO MANY people who care about us and love us in the Fresno Komen Race for the Cure. With that said, I am looking forward to next October to really share my story of survivorship with others who, unfortunately, will follow in our footsteps. Remember those self-breast exams ladies (and men) ... it is now 1 in 7 women who will develop breast cancer over their lifetime ... way too many!

And then we have Blake! My little squirt is not that little anymore. His 4-month birthday is next week and with that, we are into a whole new frontier. Blake had his first taste of food this last Wednesday, cereal! It was amazing to witness a little bitty person have his first bite of food. Blake was a great sport and took the cereal into his mouth, but being unfamiliar with it, he sorta just smacked the cereal around in his mouth, some going out and some going down. He is breaking new records all the time. Just last night he drank 8 oz. of milk in a single feeding and no, I am not starving my kid ... he is still eating every 3 hours. Even better than that, he is still sleeping through the night ... yes, Blake is my little rockstar! I am so proud of him every single day and only God knows how thankful! I feel like a terrible mommy for not sending more pics out, but I promise I am taking them. He still has tons of hair (even though I am on pace to pass him in two or three months), but I definitely see a little thinning in the back where he sleeps, but that's nothing new to our little Ledezma Family! : ) Blake's greatest moments are his giggles ... he giggles uncontrollably now and he cracks me up with his little sounds when he giggles. You would think I am the greatest comedian around when really I could just be reading the paper outloud to him ... he just cracks up! Atta boy!

I am having second thoughts about reconstruction. But Blake reminds me life is good and I am so very lucky to be here to share these amazing milestones with him everyday. I am blessed. Life is good.

That So Wasn't All of It ...

2007-10-26T15:58:00.000-07:00

Let's get to the meat of the situation:

I have my preliminary pathology report back from surgery.

This is how it goes:

A 1 cm tumor was removed from my left breast along with all of my breast tissue from both the right and left breast and both the right and left nipples. A small portion of skin was removed from my left breast.

Six lymph nodes were tested and ALL SIX NODES TESTED NEGATIVE FOR CANCER! That is the golden news. That is what we have been praying for. The negative nodes leads us to believe that the cancer did not spread. But, that is exactly what it is, just a belief, a hope and not a certainty or guarantee by any means.

I had an appointment last week with one surgeon to check for infection and remove my bandages. After losing my hair, this was Hardest Day # 2 for Cancer Patient JAL. It was a terrible sight to see and felt like someone tore a piece of my gut out of me. However, just a few hours later, the phone call came into my cell with the great news about my lymph nodes and I couldn't have been happier, considering the circumstances.

With that said, yesterday, Rigo and I went back to Stanford for another follow up with another surgeon. This appointment wasn't nearly as hopeful as I had intended and left the office with more questions than I arrived with. First, the doctor emphasized that I went into surgery with a 1 cm tumor. It was shrunk 2/3rds from chemo, but despite chemo, continued to grow to maintain that size. Even though the doctor doesn't feel that I should continue with additional chemo or radiation, she threw those options out there to let Rigo and I know what we are facing. Does this mean more chemo? After 7 months of chemo? But it didn't work the first time, why would I do it again? For Blake? Is that reason enough to convince my doctors to give it to me and for the insurance to pay for it ... I need it to be here for my son?! Ahhh ...

In addition, the doctor seemed rather conservative and concerned with the thought of me having more children myself. She offered to refer us to Stanford's fertility clinic to harvest eggs for surrogacy, which, in her mind, may be safer for me. Her major issue was "what now?" Continue treatment or close the book on this journey ... forever, or for the time being? If it were forever, of course, case closed. But if it is simply for the time being, then I say the fight must go on ... I have a battle to win and I won't settle for a draw.

So, what now ... I think with this new information, Rigo and I have to go back to the drawing boards. I need all the information I can humanly obtain in the next two weeks before my next appointment with my oncologist. I want him to guide me in the right direction, but this is our decision, my life, our life and I want to feel confident that I am making the best decision for my family and I and for me, that means making a well-informed decision.

With that said, cheers to negative nodes! And thanks to God!

Life is Good ... so are naps! Off I go ... shhhh ....

We're Outta Surgery and onto Bigger and Better Things!

2007-10-26T15:26:00.000-07:00

Rigo and my parents escorted me to my hospital room in Stanford. I had to share a room the first night. My parents stayed for a very short time just so I can see my beautiful baby and smother him with kisses. Then they took him back to the hotel so he could get some rest. The nurses were nice and let Rigo spend a few hours with me since I was in the operating room all day. I slept 98 percent of this first visit with Rigo. I had a roommate, but she was quite and easy to room with ... we never saw each other, but I know she was pretty badly injured from a motorcycle accident (her husband was being treated in the hospital too).

I was still nausea the first night and continued to throw up. I manually administered my own morphine and believe that the morphine was making me sick. By the morning, I was off the morphine, but still not feeling too well. I slept during this time, but every now and then I'd open my eyes and look over and there was Rigo, watching me. No TV on or magazines or anything. His entire focus was on me. I felt so rude not talking to him, but I had zero energy. I felt so much safer knowing he was by my side. I love you Rigo.

In addition to the morphine, I was on vicodin and was given an On-Q Ball which is amazing ... it is a ball of local anesthetic that is inserted into my chest and released pain medicine manually ... that stayed in me for about 4 days and I loved that little device.

During my stay in the hospital, my vitals were checked through my legs because the surgery involved my arms/armpits. My blood pressure will always be checked through my legs now. In addition, during this time, I had "support" to go to the bathroom. My mobility was nothing for the first few days. It was on the second afternoon that I got up for the first time and that didn't last to long.

At the end of my second day in the hospital, the doctors noticed I was making little progress. Although my pain was pretty bad, duh, my nausea was much better and no longer an issue for the most part. I was given a short list of instructions, that if I passed, I could go home: a) go pee on my own, b) stop vomiting, c) eat something, and d) get off the IV fluids and get fluids down on my own. Okay ... I missed Blake. Within 20 to 30 minutes, we were buzzing the nurses to tell them I was ready to go home and mission accomplished ... I met all my criteria. The nurses at first were a little hesitant and indicated that patients don't usually get discharged at 5pm on a Sunday, but after some pleading and begging and yes, maybe a little threats of the "patient from hell" scenario, we were released and en route to see our little Blake by 6pm. Unfortunately, we didn't make it home until after 9pm or so on Sunday. And right to bed for me.

And ever since then, two weeks later, I pretty much have been in the same spot ... bed. I have had the occasional and regular visitors, Blake, my mom, dad, Les, Dana and some more good friends, but all here, in my room with me in my bed. This is my safety area for the time being and will probably stay that way for the next couple of weeks. I am almost afraid to venture off into other parts of the house. I am sure it is in great condition, but I am really determined to heal properly and not over-do-it, so going into other rooms will just encourage me to move things around and I am not ready for that.

I hate that I have taken such a long time to blog about the surgery, but my energy is zapped. But I need to catch you all up on so many other things too. First, the Fresno Komen Race for the Cure is TOMORROW and I am so pumped for that ... yes, probably overly hopeful that I can do the 5k, but hope doesn't kill. This is going to be a great weekend and our family is blessed to have so many supporters out there with us. The Komen Race is my Victory Race, OUR Victory Race.

Second, my brother Junior is here in California for CNN covering all the fires. This doesn't really go with the whole blog-theme, but I think he is so cool, I had to share! Be safe!

Third, last week, well I think 2 weeks ago know, KSEE 24 did interview Rigo, Blake and CE Baseball and it was on ksee.com and cnn.com to be viewed. I am soso proud of Blake. Unfortunately, I DO NOT HAVE A COPY OF THE INTERVIEW. IF ANYONE TAPED IT OFF THE TV OR ONLINE, CAN I PLEASE, PLEASE GET A COPY?

Fourth, I just had to vent at the damn Fresno Bee for running classic breast cancer stories for breast cancer awareness month. With all due respect, and I truly mean that, the stories of the survivors are the typical over 40 years old, stage 0, stage 1 stories we hear about all the time. I think the feature stories are an injustice to young women with cancer, and trust me there are PLENTY of young women with cancer. I had just wished that for the benefit of awareness, for the benefit of making our stories less "freakish," for the benefit of saving lives, the Bee could have and should have profiled a younger survivor. Ugh .... sorry, I just had to vent.

Fifth, I am looking forward to getting back to work, soon. I am in talks with my office to arrange something sooner rather than later.

Sixth, me and my fellow young co-survivors are attending a renewal retreat for women with cancer next weekend and I couldn't be more excited to be with such wonderful company and focusing on healing my mind, body and spirit ... the only sad thing is I'm gonna miss my boys terribly! But I know Blake's in good hands!

I think that's it ... I am caught up ... I hate feeling rushed to get everything down. I love to blog. This has been so very therapeutic for me, but I am competing with an infant and two eyelids that hate to stay open anymore ... call me snoozer. I feel okay. Life is good.

One Week Out ...

2007-10-21T10:38:00.000-07:00

Since surgery, which was on Friday October 12th.

Mom, Dad, Blake and I spent all day the Thursday before doing pre-op appointments and then met Rigo for dinner that night. We ended up at the hotel and poor little Blake and his mommy were both so exhausted that getting to sleep surprisingly wasn't that hard.

My alarm clock went off at 4:00 am. Dad and Rigo took me to the hospital at 6:00 am. I took my precious little time showering and thinking; thinking a lot in the shower, and of course, doing my fair share of crying too. Showers are always a difficult time I find for myself and for my other friends living with cancer. It is that sense of being alone that is overwhelming and ability to let all our emotions go. I said my good-bye's to my sweet sleeping baby and my mother. That was hard. You know, to say good-bye to your mother knowing the next time you see her your entire femininity will have been erased, and not gently erased, scrubbed off with purpose and zeal. Now that I am a parent myself, I see the pain in my parents faces so much more clearly.

We arrived at the hospital a little early (see earlier post) despite the heavy rains coming down. Once 7am came around, we checked into surgical admitting. The entire day was so very surreal and for the sake of sharing, educating and preserving the moment, I'd like to document as much detail as possible, but there is so much of me that wants to forget it all ... the thought of reliving that day takes so much energy, energy I simply don't have right now. Hence, I just had to take a 2 hour nap and now I am back at this blog. I have a feeling this blog will take about two days to write!

Okay, we will do document this step by step, slowly and as best as I can remember. I was taken back to the pre-op room about 15 after the hour by a young nurse, without Rigo or Dad. She didn't let me know where we were going or what to expect aka she had some pretty bad bedside manner.

Let's just get this off my chest from the get go ... Stanford's bedside manner sucks ... their failure to communicate with patients is detrimental to the patients physical an mental well-being and recovery. With so many of the challenges I faced, this surgery could have and should have been much smoother with a little bit of effort on Stanford's part to communicate clear expectations to me. Am I upset about it? No, not really. I expected this in part due to my prior appointments with them, due to the nature that they are a massive facility treating thousands of patients a day and because I was working with two surgeons who both felt they were running the show.

Anyhow, I was taken back into a triage-type room with all the patients waiting to have surgery for the day. I was given a gown and disposable socks to wear and instructed to remove all of my clothing and jewelry (wedding ring included and getting that off is a feat in of itself since the blessing of the baby). My breasts were being removed, okay, so I needed to take my bra off, but I was so confused why I couldn't wear underwear. I mean, leave a woman with no dignity whatsoever. Ugh, as typical, I complied and off with the chonies. This all made so much more sense when I woke up with a catheter.

I spent the next hour or so answering admitting questions with nurses, being examined by both surgeons and their teams of doctors and meeting the anesthesiologists. The sense that Rigo and I both got about my surgeons were that a) they don't work together very often, b) they wanted to kill each other and c) my general surgeon, the woman, would win. Let's just say the tension rose a few notches when they were in the room together with me. Despite their own personal difficulties with each other, I felt very confident in my team of doctors. Each surgeon had their own team of residents working with them, very Grey's Anatomyish ... most of the residents were from Stanford, but I also had visiting residents working on me from Yale and Harvard ... hello! I couldn't have felt any better about our team! Go Team!

Although surgery was slated to begin at 9am, it didn't begin until 10am because we had to wait for an operating room to free-up. In the interim, both surgeons took the Nip-Tuck approach and made their own individual markings on my body and breasts with a Sharpie marker of where the incisions would be made. It looked so freakish ... I mean, cool in a freakish way, but so very disturbing at the same time. Nonetheless, I asked Rigo to take a picture of the markings before I went into the operating room. It was a little funny when the lead nurse walked over first thing in the morning and confirmed the surgery location by writing "YES" on each breast ... as if there was going to be one of those surgical mistakes you hear about on the news ... the only mistake you could make in my case would be to let me keep one of the girls. Yep, they were both going.

So, after all the meeting with the doctors, all the preparation, I was ready to go back. I loaded on my red lipstick (Chanel Spark ... love it), said my tearful goodbye to Rigo and was taken back to the very cold operating room. I do not remember much of anything back there. I remember counting about 6 people back there, but none of them were my surgeons, all other staff. I remember the anesthesiologist spreading my arms out and positioning them for the surgery and I remember him telling me I was going to sleep and off I went ... sound asleep.

I woke up nearly 10 hours later even though to me it felt like two minutes later. I was in another triage-type recovery room. With it being so late in the night, it was only me and one other woman who were there recovering from surgery. Speaking of this woman, I wanted to throw a bottle at her head she wouldn't stop screaming in pain and moaning ... hello, your screams weren't making the pain go away and if anything, you are just making it so much more miserable for EVERYONE else around you aka me! The nurse ran over and told me I just got out of surgery. I was in such a fog, was she right? I didn't think I had even started the surgery yet? It went so fast. I couldn't talk, my throat was all messed up since the tube was down my throat for so long so as a way to ascertain whether this again-not-so-comforting nurse was right, I felt for my breasts .... AAAHHHH ... she was right. I was done with surgery. I felt the worst pain and pressure ever ... and then crazy curious me, I tried to take a sneak peak under my gown. No breasts. I had no breasts. But thank God all I saw were bandages, so I wasn't too traumatized, yet! But it was clear, no breasts.

Somehow I did manage to ask the nurse to either shut that other woman up, which they couldn't, or find me a pair of earplugs, which they did. I put the earplugs in right away ... really, these were the only things keeping me from harming her ... she was such a pain in the neck, I truly wanted to hurt her and I never get like that ... I am sure it was the medicine taking over, but thank goodness for earplugs!

Minutes later, like two minutes later, I began to throw up all over. I couldn't call for the nurses help because I couldn't talk and no one was helping me since all the nurses were trying to calm down this way over the top melodramatic patient. So much for behaving ... you don't get any help. It wasn't until my guts started coming up that one of the nurses tossed, yes, tossed me a pan. Luckily I didn't need anyone's help to hold my hair back (yes, that was a joke).

It was about 8:30, 9:00 pm and the nurses said my room was ready. I was going to be wheeled via gurney to my room and it was then that I would get to see Rigo and Blake and my parents. Immediately, once the main double doors opened, there was Rigo, smiling at me. If I had enough energy, I would have cried, but instead, I mustered up a half grin to let him know I was okay and then I closed my eyes to fall asleep.

The Countdown Is On ...

2007-10-12T06:34:00.000-07:00

Dad, Rigo and I are in the Stanford Hospital waiting for my 7am check-in for surgery. It is a dark, rainy morning here in Palo Alto ... a little ironic I think. Yesterday was again, in typical fashion (from my experience with Stanford thus far), rather disappointing. Hours and hours of doctors appointments and noone really seeming to know what the heck is going on. You put so many smart people together and this is what you get ... ugh!

Nonetheless, I had stickers, also referred to as BB Placements, put around my tumor to help the surgeon make her incision and I had a lymnomography(sp) done which entails 6 injections (shots) at the base of my nipple ... it was just as bad as it sounds, but with a little (or a lot) of tongue biting, we made it through that. The doc said she's never seen anyone handle that procedure as well as I did ... hehehehe .... it is so funny being a patient, a cancer patient at least. I continually notice myself adapting my behavior in order to please and accomodate my doctors. I often hear about this compared to as the cancer patient wanting to get a stamp of approval from their doctor, that "A" mark from the teacher with a handwritten note of "good job" on your paper. Yep, once a nerd, always a nerd ... that's me! Blake's Mama ...

Speaking of my little squirt, he is sleeping with Grandma Julie at the hotel still. Blake spent the ENTIRE day with us at the hospital yesterday and as much as I love having him around, it didn't feel right keeping him here all day. Rigo will go get Blake tonight to visit me once I get into my own hospital room.

So, 17 more minutes to go ... but who's counting ... 16 now.

I am going to sign off for my last time as a natural-breasted woman. Next time I sign on, I won't have my breasts, but I also WON'T HAVE CANCER! Amen to that ...

Love and gratitude to all ... let's hope there is some sun shining when I wake up.

James

Some Not-So-Perfect News ... But At Least We're Getting Somewhere!

2007-09-27T22:09:00.000-07:00

Rigo and I just returned home after spending the last few days at Stanford for pre-op appointments. Ugh, talk about waiting-room'itis to the extreme ... I hate to complain because I know every patient has to go through endless wait-times, but ugh, it sucked. In the end though, we definitely got a lot accomplished.

Wednesday felt like a rat race, but I was able to get pre-admitted to the hospital, have some blood work done (for additional units of blood to be available during surgery), get a chest x-ray done and have an MRI of both breasts.

On Thursday, Rigo and I met with both my General Surgeon, Irene Wapnir, and my Plastic Surgeon, David Kahn. My lungs looked good on the chest x-ray ... whew! Cheers to that. And even better, my 'healthy' breast still looks healthy.

On the other hand, my tumor is still there and in my left breast and is identifiable despite the expectations of the General Surgeon and my Oncologist. The tumor has shrunk, but has not disappeared like we all hoped for. So the bad news is chemotherapy didn't work completely and for the last three weeks and the next two weeks that I have not been getting chemo, the tumor is probably growing. The good news is the tumor is smaller than when I found it and I am getting surgery in 2 weeks, so it should be gone for good after that. In a way, having the tumor still makes my decision to proceed with such a radical surgery option worthwhile.

To my surprise, I will only be in the hospital for two nights post surgery. I was certain it was going to be at least three or four days, but apparently not. I will be heading back to Stanford on Thursday, October 11th for a gamut of tests and imaging and then checking into the hospital for my surgery at 7am on Friday, October 12th. The surgery will last about 8 hours and then I will be in the recovery room for an hour before I get to see Rigo and my baby Blake. My mom and dad will be there with Rigo and Blake and Rigo's mom and stepdad, Linda and Mike, are coming up on Friday to help with Blake. As far as other visitors, I hope to be up for company after a week or so once I am back in Fresno. I expect to be pretty wiped out with the pain medications and after all, I am going to have drains hanging all over me ... wait to visit until after they come out, unless you like blood! hehehe.

The surgical plan is a bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. Emphasis is on "plan." I was forewarned that many issues can arise during surgery. For instance, my insides may not look so hot once the doctors are fishing around in there (aka cancer), my blood supply may be shot, or I may not have enough skin to work with (in which case, they'll try to use skin from cadavers ... yuck). I am trying to go into this procedure with realistic expectations ... I have seen images of the reconstruction process and let's just say, I am expecting the worst, while hoping for the best.

I will be returning back to Stanford twice within the first two weeks of surgery. After that, I will be going to Stanford once a week for about 8 weeks to have my expanders filled. Once my expanders are completely filled, I will have my exchange surgery after a 4-week break. About three months after the exchange surgery, I can go get some nipples should I decide too (which I will) and then my girls are set! Batta-boom batta-bang!

Am I scared? Scared of the pain ... no, there's medicine for that. Scared of dying ... no, God has a plan for me. Scared of hating myself ... yep, that's my issue. Silly, I know. Here I am, chatting away with every Bob, Jane and Tom I know about my diagnosis and treatment ... I have no qualms about sharing what I am going through with whoever, whenever. I am proud to be a member of such a courageous group of women I now call my sisters. I beam with pride when I look at my dear Blake and imagine his tough determination, perseverance and willpower. But when I think of how what I'll see when I look at myself in the mirror in about a week, it makes me sick to my stomach. I know, I know, beauty is from the inside out ... blah, blah, blah. This is my cancer journey and I am just being honest. I know I have a wonderful husband who loves me, but really, how can he stand to look at me when I barely can ... ugh ... have I mentioned cancer sucks!

Whatever. I am certain I will be fine and I know myself ... within time I will become much more comfortable with my new girls. (Before you know it, I am sure I'll be sharing them with more people than Rigo wants me too.) I just have to go through this process and for me, this is what I am scared of. I hated losing my hair and it took months for me to be comfortable being bald, but I am proud to say that today I am pretty dang proud of my bald head. It is liberating to be bald. In fact, I am a little sad knowing that my hair will soon begin to grow back. I mean how many people get to be bald in their lives ... I am pretty dang lucky! (You don't have to agree with me, just humble me though!)

I think that is it as far as surgery goes. I am busy just trying to get ready for that ... calling insurance, doctors, appointments, scheduling, hotel reservations for the family, getting the house ready, the dog ... Thank you ALL for the many offers of help. People are so very kind and generous, it is just amazing! Between Rigo, my parents and mother-in-law, I think we are okay with help for Blake and I. We really don't need anything besides your prayers and warm wishes. We can use the power of prayer any and everyday!

Blake is doing great. He now weighs 11 lbs. 3 oz. My little 5 lb. baby is almost 12 lbs! I can't believe how big he is already. And so alert! He has finally started smiling a lot more now! We are working on tummy time and smiling still. Every now and then he'll give us a few goo's and gaa's. Blake is doing great sleeping through the night and for that, I'd vote he is the best baby in the whole wide world! hehehe! We are taking lots of pictures and lots of video, but I haven't gotten around to posting them online yet. I promise to soon!

On a side note, the American Cancer Society and the Fresno Bee are publishing an awareness insert in the Fresno Bee on October 14th and they will be featuring an article about my crazy cancer journey. Also, KSEE 24 interviewed Rigo, Blake and I with the Clovis East Baseball Team today. The story will (probably) air this Thursday and on their Sports Central show over the weekend ... check it out, but no making fun of us!

The Ledezma Family will be out at the Race for the Cure in full force ... it is my debut and a celebration to the impending end of this journey! See you there!

Join In On the Fun!

2007-09-22T21:44:00.000-07:00

Hi All,

Rigo and I will be taking Blake to his first ever Race for the Cure in Fresno on October 27, 2007. In fact, the Clovis East Baseball Team is doing the Race in honor of Blake, Rigo and I.

We would love to have you join us out there to help raise awareness, to help FIND A CURE, and to CELEBRATE the END of our own journey down the breast cancer path.

I am slated to have my mastectomy on October 12th, but I have every intention (and I am quite determined) to be out there at Blake's first Race for the Cure ... so if I can do it (with drains and all), you can do it! Please join us if you can ... the more the merrier and the closer we get to a cure!

Here is the link to the Komen Team I am on ... I would love to have you join our team, create your own team or participate as an individual. You can sign up on race day too!

http://race.komen-fresno.org/site/TR?pg=team&fr_id=1040&team_id=3830

Cheers to the impending END!

Jamie, Rigo and Blake

Running on Adrenaline ...

2007-09-10T19:50:00.000-07:00

Today, after spending over 6 hours at the doctor's office, I graduated from chemo. I left with my head held high and leaving chemo has never felt better. I am so excited and can't believe today is finally here. My typical chemo-day naps are 5 hours and today I barely have an hour under my belt ... just too happy! Finally!

My dear son had the most amazing specialty red roses delivered to me at chemo ... atta boy! I think his dad and him were conspiring about it this morning ... good job Rigs! : )

Boy, Rigo's list is just getting longer and longer of the older women he keeps impressing at chemo! They kept saying how much they "liked them" and I don't think they were talking about the roses, know what I mean?! One very "established" older woman wanted to meet the lady Rigo belonged too ... I think she just wanted to size up her competition! hehehe!

Rigo, I do.

I am so happy. I never want to forget this day or the feelings associated with it. I know we must overcome a few more hurdles, but days like today make this journey seem worth it.

I have to write all of my anniversaries down, there are just too many to remember now ...

1. 2/14/07 - Diagnosis
2. 2/26/07 - Begin chemo
3. 3/24/07 - Lose da Hair
4. 7/14/07 - Baby Born
5. 9/10/07 - Finish chemo
6. 10/12/07 - Surgery
7. 1/31/o8 - Replace Expander
8. TBD - Exchange Surgery

While I look forward to the day when these events become faint memories, for now, I hold them close to my heart as my own "cancer milestones" ... feats of achievements for Blake and I to be proud of.

Thank you for taking part in our journey ... life is good.

We Have A Date ...

2007-09-08T14:42:00.000-07:00

Friday, October 12th is the date I am scheduled to undergo my bilateral mastectomy and reconstruction.

Yep, this is the date. My lucky day - that is how I need to look at it. Afterall, October 13th will be my first day of living without cancer ... yippee!

In the meantime, my countdown to chemo is on and we are traveling to Stanford for my first MRI (which makes me extremely curious and anxious about) and pre-op appointments.

Blake is 8 weeks old today ... atta boy!

My Babies

2007-09-07T00:55:00.000-07:00

Time to Say Goodbye ...

2007-09-06T22:05:00.000-07:00

TO THE INFUSION ROOM!

On Monday, September 10th, in just a few more days, I am gonna walk into the infusion room at my doctor's office for the very last time IN MY LIFE. I feel like I wanna stroll on in there singing "Hit the road Jamie and I won't be coming back no more, no more, no more, no more, hit the road Jamie." This chapter is coming to an end and I couldn't be any more happier about it. Soon, in just a matter of days, my experience with chemotherapy will come to a close ... I can't believe it to tell you the truth. I can't ... I began this journey, both that of cancer and chemotherapy, in February, 7 months ago. And now, here I am, with Blake sleeping next to me as I type, about to complete my run with chemo.

Chemo has become a way of life for me. We've adjusted, Rigo, my parents and I. So many family and friends have offered so much support to us these last 7 months, but between Rigo and my mom and dad, they have carried the weight for me. The three of them have given up so much of their lives the last 7 months to make sure Blake and I were taken care of. The three of them put Blake and I first. The three of them picked me up when I fell and ached when I ached. The three of them made sure I got to my countless doctor's appointments (albeit, I am rarely on time, but at least I showed up) and made sure I was never alone when the IV went into my arm each week. The three of them made sure my pain pills were readily accessible and filled to ease my pain. The three of them let me be myself throughout this process, always making me feel comfortable no matter what I looked like or what my mood was - wig, no wig, cranky, tired, sad, mean and restless. The three of them reminded me on a daily basis that I was not alone in this battle and that they were right behind me, every single step of the way. The three of them are my angels and I am blessed for having them in my life.

For me, I have gotten use to going through chemo every other week. Going into each injection was a mental challenge. I have to prepare myself for what lied ahead ... over this weekend, my "off" weekend, I will do the same ... mentally prepare myself for the pain that lies ahead for the next 10 days following chemo. That is the tough part. Not needles, the occasional blood or hours in the chair. It is knowing that because of that injection, the outcome will wreck havoc on my entire body for days to come ... trouble walking, trouble sitting, trouble lying, exhaustion, headaches, mouth sores and all with little relief, if any, from the countless pain pills I'll be popping for the week and a half following chemo. That is the hard part ... knowing the shit I have to put up with to get the chemo to KILL the cancer. Strange, huh?! The hard part is also the only comforting part to get me through this crap ... going through hell, must mean the chemo is working, right? I mean, the more it hurts me, the more the chemo must be KILLING the cancer ... not sure if there is any logic to this theory, but this thought is exactly the thought that keeps me going ... no pain, no gain ... give it to me baby ... make that a double-shot! hehehe!

So, yes, I am ecstatic that chemo is coming to an end. But now what? While my treatment is not completely over yet, surgery is ahead and perhaps radiation, the only treatment to kill any cancer that may have spread, is coming to an end. Chemotherapy attacks cancer in a person's entire body. While we know I have a tumor in my breast, we don't know if even just one little cancer cell escaped and made it to another part of my body or is in my blood. In the event that it did spread, chemotherapy worked to destroy any and all cancer in my body. (Surgery and radiation is used to treat the primary cancer - at the location of my tumor, not any other area of my body). I am happy I was given chemo. I have no regrets in choosing this treatment plan despite the adverse effects. I feel comforted knowing that we were being aggressive with my cancer. But now what?

While whatever's left of the tumor will ultimately be removed through surgery (and then some), on Monday, September 10th, I will END TREATMENT OF MY ENTIRE BODY FOR CANCER, JUST IN CASE A SINGLE CANCER CELL ESCAPED. This thought SCARES ME OUT OF MY MIND. I couldn't be more frightened. Don't get me wrong. I hate chemo. But I love chemo. I hate how I feel from it, but I love knowing it is serves to protect me to a certain extent. Yes, I am so very scared to put the shield of chemo down. Am I opening myself up again to let cancer invade another part of my body? My protective barrier will no longer be there without getting chemo on a regular basis and that scares me.

Everyone who has been on this journey before me, and all those that will follow me, we all have the same fear ... recurrence. Part of me would be okay if I were to receive chemotherapy for the rest of my life. I said from day one of this journey that I was gonna put up a fight and win this battle, if not for me, for Blake. Am I throwing the towel in by ending chemotherapy? Am I laying out the door mat and welcoming cancer in for a recurrence by no longer injecting my body with poisons? Ah, I know these thoughts are ridiculous, but I mean, are they?

This is such a bittersweet moment. I knew it was coming. It was as clear as day, like a bad break-up. I know I will be so much happier without chemo in my life, but gosh, we have so many good memories together and when it was good, it was really good. Chemo did its' job ... I still can't feel my tumor. I felt like crap, so it must of been working (not true necessarily), and I have met some amazing people during chemo. I am happy and I am scared.

It will take some readjusting for the three of us. Rigo and I can try to get back to normal as much as possible before surgery. Our lives are so completely different now that Blake has joined our family ... much sweeter! My parents will have their own readjusting to do too. I have needed them so much over the last 7 months ... like that new Fergie song, which I say is my anthem ... I have needed my parents like a child needs his blanket ... and by the way I hate that Tim and Faith song ... like a needle needs a vein ... not a happy connotation for chemo patients. Sorry, none of that makes sense. I am trying to say that I have depended on their help so much lately. I reverted to a child in so many ways. They had to make sure I ate, I took my medicine, I made my appointments and comfort me during my dark moments. Now I need to stand on my own two feet again. I need to be Blake's mother. While I will always be their baby girl, their energy can't be solely on me anymore. I am sure that while I will always have the fear of recurrence in my mind, the fear is just as real for Rigo, mom and dad too. But we can't let that fear hold any of us back. I have heard other cancer survivors say that we are the lucky ones ... cancer teaches us how to live fully, and that is how I intend to go about my journey. As co-survivors, I hope Rigo, mom and dad live fully too. They deserve it ... thank you for sharing my journey with me.

Surgery is getting scheduled and will be sometime in October or November. I will continue to blog, but as you can see, not nearly as often ... newborn-effect.

Blake will be 2 months old next week. He is fantastic! His little eyes follow me around the room now ... he looks for me and my heart melts when I see him doing that. He lays on those activity mats for babies and bats at the toys overhead with his arms and legs and scoots with his bottom. Everyone insists Blake is Rigo's twin ... they look identical. And he has the greatest sneeze ever ... he warns everyone in the vicinity that he is going to sneeze with a great big yelp immediately before the sneeze. It is hilarious! He is eating 5-7 ounces a feeding and is sleeping through the night pretty well in his own crib now. Each day brings something new and Rigo and I are having tons of fun with Blake. And Tiki just adores the little man and is super protective of Blake whenever anyone comes to visit. I must say, I am rather proud of both of them.

Cheers to September 10, 2007 ... life is still good.

A Dose of Reality

2007-08-19T21:04:00.000-07:00

So, this is a blog about my journey with breast cancer and being pregnant with cancer. Well, obviously, I am no longer pregnant, but the journey still endures, that is, my journey with cancer. Yep, the reality of having cancer sucks. Why? Well, I met a special young woman at chemo two weeks ago. I was so excited to meet her. She is my age (which is SO UNUSUAL) and is a school teacher like Rigo and her husband is a coach ... this beautiful young woman has two little boys, a 4-year old and a 2-year old.

Well, this woman was a newbie ... no worries, I am a pro at this ... I was ready to show her the ropes. Well, low and behold, this woman was a newbie to chemo, but not to cancer. She was initially diagnosed in July, 2006 and was treated with radiation through the end of 2006. Treatment over, life goes on ... that is, life without cancer. She buys a new home, husband starts a new job, they are thinking about having a third baby, and bam ... cancer shows up again, this time in her lungs. So much for cancer ... the reality is, it sucks.

I am devastated by hearing her story. I feel for her the instant she says the cancer is in her lungs. I can only imagine the fear she is living with, not the fear for herself, but the fear for her boys and her husband. Afterall, that is what I am most fearful of ... truth be told, the doctors will never be able to tell me I am "cured" of cancer ... there are no guarantees the treatments worked ... and because of that, I fear for my son and my husband. I hate to see the pain they are going through now; I couldn't imagine it getting any worse, but the thing is, it can. And for her, it has.

My heart has ached for her since I met her. I ache for her fears, for the emotional roller coaster she must be riding. But I am not lying when I say I believe in miracles and I am hopeful ... for her and I ... the doctors may not be able to cure us, but I believe they can treat us to LIVE with cancer rather than making it a death sentence. I am hopeful, but nonetheless, I pray for her and I and my son and my husband every night. Please let us live the life of our dreams, let us grow old and grey together.

The reality is, cancer sucks.

Right Back At It ...

2007-08-08T13:50:00.000-07:00

Yep, we are back at it already. Our first round of chemo is under our belt and we are back on track to beating this thing. So much for my chemo-free hiatus! It was nice while it lasted ...

On Monday, July 30th, we had our first go of Taxol. I am getting dose dense chemo (heavier doses over a shorter period of time ... a total of 4 cycles over 8 weeks). The actual administering of the chemo is a lot longer, about 3 1/2 to 4 hours of chemo, making the total doctor's visit 5 to 6 hours. Because the doses are heavier, my body is getting a lot more beat up, including my immune system. I am getting an injection 7 days following chemo to increase my white blood cell counts. Yes, A LOT of doctor's visits!

So, daily shots and chemo every other week ... that's where we are at with my treatments. How do I feel? Worse than ever ... this go around is beating me up ... I am on vicadon around the clock and in constant pain, bone ache and numbness. Thankfully, this will be over before I know it!

I am so very sorry for taking such a long time to update my blog. I get you all to the exciting part, baby, and seemingly stop updating. I bet you all are thinking, "oh, she must be so busy with that baby." Well, yeah, I am busy, but that is not why I am not writing anymore ... it is because of a side-effect that I am having from my treatments, neuropathy ... numbness in my hands and feet. I have no sensation except a tingly sensation in my fingers, so typing is quite difficult. Anything with my hands is difficult, helping dress Blake, buttons, eating popcorn! But thankfully, this to shall pass (hopefully, we don't expect it to be permanent).

My doctor is aware of how hard this round has been and he is cautious about continuing treatment. He wants to proceed with caution and thinks he may postpone my treatments out a few weeks to give me additional time to recover. Part of me rather just get it all over with, but the other part of me really would like to use my hands without cringing.

My hair is falling out again (I kept it shaved short for the most part) and my nails are gross-out black, but I expected these side-effects and both are tolerable. Blake doesn't seem to mind his Mama is bald.

As for my little guy, where do I start? I had an ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL labor ... I know, it sounds so strange, but God blessed me and cut me some slack when it came to delivering! Thank you! We got to the hospital at 7am and Blake was born at 1pm, and I was laughing during the pushing! Really, it was a fabulous experience and we had a healthy baby boy with a full head of hair! My little miracle!

Blake turned 5 weeks old this weekend. He is so, so much bigger ... at his last doctor's appointment, he weighed 7 lbs., but Rigo and I are certain he is tipping the scale at 8 lbs. by now. All the weight is going straight to his cheeks! Blake has quite an appetite, which makes me very proud ... he is eating 4 to 5 ozs. every 3 hours! In the last 5 weeks, Blake has been to San Diego, Livermore, Manteca, shopping, the beach, on lots of walks at the park, and has had tons of visitors! In the last two days, I have noticed that Blake's eyes are starting to follow my voice, which makes me melt with happiness! I love being Mom and every time I look at him, I see a perfect miracle ... that is good, miracles DO HAPPEN! I can't wait until he starts smiling this week or next week.

The first day of school is tomorrow, so Rigo is back at work. My parents and Grandma Linda have been in town a lot to help out since I started my treatments. Blake loves having his grandparents around!

Thank you all for your support and prayers. We are so blessed to have Blake in our lives and all of you to share him with!

Introducing Blake Michael Ledezma

2007-07-20T14:21:00.000-07:00

Blake couldn't wait and surprised us all when he arrived naturally and very quickly on Saturday, July 14th at 1:22 p.m.

Mr. Blake Michael Ledezma weighed in at a healthy 5 lbs., 11 oz., 19.5 inches long! He is a strong and healthy little baby boy ... and if his proud Mama may add, handsome as can be! For the record, yes, he has more hair than his Mama!

Thank you all for your prayers for Blake, Rigo and I. We are overwhelmed with joy and love for our little miracle angel ... I do believe that God gifted Rigo and I with precious little Blake to give us rays of hope and light to this otherwise dark journey.

We have two weeks to get to know each other before I head back for another round of chemo on July 31st. In the meantime, we will keep you posted with updates on Blake!

The Light at the End of the Road! I Can See It!

2007-07-01T09:33:00.000-07:00

Yes, Rigo and I have been searching for answers as to when this ride is going to end. We boarded this ride in February and feel like we have been going full-speed ahead since then. As most of you know, my work has been gracious enough to allow me to have some time off to get my health in order and complete my treatments. The problem is, we never really quite understood how exhaustive my treatments were going to be. Now we know (or at least we have a game plan).

So, here we are, July 1, 2007. I am not having any chemo for the next four weeks. Does that worry me ... yes siree! I hate knowing that while cancer may still live inside my body, I am not doing anything to treat it. Even though one feels like crap on chemo, at least you get this peace of mind knowing you are doing what you can to one-up this cancer thing. For now, I must be content putting my health concerns to the side in order to prepare for the baby ... ah, the baby! He will be making his arrival (via induction and natural delivery) in 16 more days, but who's counting! July 17th Mr. Blake-something-Ledezma should be here.

My counts need time to bounce back up after delivery, so I am taking two weeks off of chemo after the baby. I will begin new chemo (Taxol is the regimen) on July 30th. Yes, in a sick and morbid way I am looking foward to beginning again, for the same reason as above. I will lose any hair growth I have had and have to deal with the typical nonsense that goes along with chemo, but at least it's treatment ... each cycle of chemo means more and more cancer cells are dying! Chemo will last only 8 weeks this go around ... piece of cake!

That leads us to the end of September, 2007. Chemo - check, baby - check ... that leaves us with surgery and possible radiation. We are not planning on having radiation, unless we find positive lymph nodes during surgery ... and with the power of positive thinking, I know we will NOT be finding positive nodes!

So, I met my General Surgeon and Plastic Surgeon in Stanford last week. Personality-wise, I like them both. The GS is a woman, Dr. Irene Wapiner and the PS is a man, Dr. Kahn. Although I will be meeting with them again to finalize matters, here is my tentative plan (the thing with this route, surgery, is it all becomes MY DECISION on what is to happen. I will explain what I think will happen now, but all that can change, if I want it too. Having my first born in two weeks may make me feel different about some of this. Nothing is set in stone.)

I will have an MRI to screen for the tumor(s) about 3 weeks after I finish Taxol ... okay, third week in October. I will be staying at Stanford for two days at this time so I can meet with the doctors and review all the tests as to how I responded to chemo.

I will have surgery, a bilateral mastectomy (both breasts) AND immediate reconstruction (my choice again) of implants with expanders (OUCH) approximately 4 weeks post-chemo. That is the end of October. I will only be in the hospital for 2 nights for this procedure. 7 days after the procedure, I will return to Stanford to remove my appendages, nice. Following that, I will be going to Stanford every two weeks for 3 months to fill my expanders. Once the expanders are filled, approximately, the end of January, I will have another surgery to switch the expander with the implant ... an exchange surgery.

Viola, I'm done (assuming no radiation). My life will be back to normal, I hope. Blake will be here. Chemo done. Surgery done. Reconstruction done. Cancer done. Back to a normal-living 28 year old wife, mother and DA! I can't wait to get back to work at this point ... yes, I know baby is on the way, but I cannot stand thinking that cancer will eat up more than a year of my life. My goal is to be back before the one-year mark, the infamous Valentine's Day Anniversary of Cancer! I need that for myself, to avoid feeling like a victim to this awful disease. I need to get control of my life again, on my terms. Yes, baby may change things, but no matter what, my goal is to be in my office at work on Valentine's Day, if not earlier. Then, if I need too, Rigo and I can see how I feel about work-baby. But for now, V-Day it is!

I hope this catches you all up with our journey. I can't believe next post will be about the baby! Rigo and I aren't good with pictures and the internet, but I will get a friend to post Blake and Mommy's pics asap after the birth. Please keep us in your prayers and thoughts ... we are halfway there! I can see the light at the end of the road, finally!

It's Meant To Be ... I'm Having a Cancer (No Pun Intended!)

2007-06-19T12:26:00.000-07:00

Well, the day will soon be here ... Blake's arrival date!

I just left my doctor's appointment and I am scheduled to go into the hopsital for a planned induction (natural delivery) on July 17, 2007. The doctor warned me that the delivery may take a few days! Yikes! I will be 37 weeks and considered full-term, so baby should be fine.

We will be six days shy of making the Leo cut-off, so it looks like Mr. Blake Ledezma will be a Cancer ... I guess God wants me to have a Cancer! He definitely has made his point ... I hear you God! hehehehe!

Wish us luck ... we'll need it!

PS: No Baby Hernandez yet ... still waiting!

Round 1 (just about) DONE!!!

2007-06-16T20:32:00.000-07:00

Here we are with one more treatment of chemo left, at least for now. This Monday is my last round of chemo for the time being. I look back over the last four months and am simply amazed at what we have been through. We made it! Yes we did ... I couldn't be any prouder of my baby and my family for helping me get through this ugly phase.

We did it! I remember imagining last February "how am I ever gonna make it through this?" And now, here we are ... we are done ... even better, we are OKAY! We are okay.

Looking back, the hair loss was one of the most difficult experiences over the last few months. I am comfortable with a bald head now, but I remember the loss of the hair was tormenting! The best part of this is seeing the kindness in so many people, from close loved ones, to distant friends, and complete strangers ... I have had an amazing experience with some of my relationships and the growth that has happened in just a few months. All of you have helped make Blake, yes it is Blake, Blake and I okay!

Where do we go from here? What is the next step? How do I achieve the end goal because we are definitely not at the end of the road yet?

Well, I will fill you all in on what I know for now, but for the most part, many unanswered questions remain. Part of that is our fault ... Rigo and I have been focused on treatment and getting the baby here. Now that he is almost here, we need to sit down with the doctors and decide what is next.

I am done with chemo (FAC cocktail) this Monday, June 18th! My oncologist will be giving me at least 2 more months (maybe 2 months) of chemo (Taxol cocktail) beginning July 30th. So, I have six weeks off, chemo-free baby! Excited to see how the hair responds! Guess I have to go pick up some razors since I threw them all out!

Taxol is a single drug I will be getting on either 2 week or 3 week cycles. It will result in hair loss, muscle and joint aches, black nails will stick around and some nausea, but primarily fatigue ... basically, nothing is changing. The drug takes 3 hours to administer, so about the same again as to what I am getting now. The office policy at my doctors is no children allowed, but the nurses are adamant that Blake has to go to see his many "aunties." We'll see ... not sure if having him there in the infusion room will make me feel better or worried about him. Not like I am very mobile in there, but Rigo or someone is always with me to help.

So, six weeks of no chemo from Monday until my next round. That means Blake has to arrive sometime between now and then, and hopefully then ... not now! : ) My oncologist recommended I give birth on July 16th, but after explaining to him how very important astrological signs are, I convinced him July 23rd would be acceptable, although not preferable to him. (July 16 is a Cancer, July 23 is a Leo ... no offense Cancers.) The doctor is concerned my counts have time to bounce back after I deliver and before chemo and he also wants to give me some bonding time while I am still healthy, but I really, really want a Leo! I haven't spoken to my OB yet, so the date is still up in the air, but we should know shortly.

I met with my primary OB and tried to catch him up to date on the game plan and he wasn't on board. Definitely wants to go solo and run his own show, so I am firing him ... I will be having my high-risk OB delivering the baby since she is so much more supportive and understanding anyways. The downfall (and yes, it is a major one) is that I have to deliver at downtown Community hospital aka County Hospital ... so, needless to say I may have a crack-addict for a roomie, but I am over it ... I am just so blessed to be here and be having a baby, who care about the hospital. We'll make the best of it ... great stories to share with Blake maybe!

As far as baby goes, he was 3.5 lbs. and 15 inches two weeks ago! His kicks and movements are so strong now, I think he is going to break through my tummy! I love it ... I have had such a wonderful pregnancy. I can't wait to meet my boy, but I know I will miss being pregnant too. Don't get me wrong, I am achy, swollen and drenched in sweat at all hours of the day, but I just think this is so amazing. Really, I can't get over what my body is doing ... parts of me are so weak and dying (nails, hair, veins, etc.) while other parts are just out of control growing (belly, boobs, butt, etc.). It is something!

So, what's next ... what about this cancer thing ... well, we have more chemo down the road. I also met with the Plastic Surgeon in Stanford last week ... to my surprise, I learned he only does the reconstruction, not my mastectomy. So, I still need to meet with a General Surgeon to schedule that ... ugh. For now, Rigo and I learned a lot about what to expect when I undergo reconstruction and we have a lot of decisions to make. We both loved the doctor though ... he had a nice style to him ... very laid-back. We expect to have the surgery and reconstruction in Stanford at the same time, but we don't have any dates yet.

I do not think I will be getting radiation at this point, but I am not sure. I think that depends on whether my lymph nodes test positive for cancer, which we won't know until the surgery ... hmmm. Let's hope for negative-nodes! : )

I think that's about it ... we are ready for this kid to show up and make his debut! Rigo's brother had his daughter last Monday, a beautiful baby girl and my brother is welcoming his first daughter this Monday, baby Lyla. Blake has to hurry up and meet all his cousins! Our bags are ready and we are excited ... the room is complete and ready for some baby cries and baby poop.

We are selling my car to get a four-door, so that is keeping me busy showing it to people. Anyone interested?? : ) Rigo begins summer school on Monday and will be busy with that until July 27th. Poor guy doesn't get a summer this year. He is in the middle of summer ball and has like 13 games in 13 days ... and yes, I think it was 104 degrees today!

Sorry it has taken me so long to post. I will post as soon as I learn new information on the treatment plan. I am eager to learn the delivery date and will share that all as soon as I find out! Thank you for your thoughts, messages and prayers. We are so thankful for the prayers. Although the last few months have been a little difficult, I am very apprehensive to travel this same journey, but with a newborn. Please keep us in your prayers as the next several months will sure be adventurous to say the least.

Heading Towards the Finish Line ... For Now!

2007-05-29T15:05:00.001-07:00

So today I completed my fifth round of chemo. This has been going on for about 15 weeks now. I only have ONE more cycle left, so three more weeks for me! I really can't believe it ... I am just about done with this first hurdle! Woohoo!

It has been quite a ride ... thank you all for traveling it with me. The last few weeks have been uneventful "cancer-wise." Rigo and I chat about how relieved we are that none of my treatments have gotten delayed (because of too low of counts, sickness, etc.). That has been a relief just to stay on track. I rather not string this along and just get it all over with as soon as possible. On the other hand, I know the road ahead will be much more difficult than what I have been through so far ... that is a little nerve-racking, but hey, gotta do what ya gotta do.

I am awfully anxious to get the Stanford appointment over with to discuss surgery options, but in the meantime, I am busy doing my internet research and reading all my books. I am pretty clueless about the path I'll decide to take with reconstruction primarily, but I hope to gather all the information available before I get to the appointment. I will update you all as soon as I learn more from the doctor.

Chemo today was fine. I had a wonderful surprise from my pharmacist's son ... he was at the Relay for Life and produced a short film of my little speech I gave ... "Saying it Outloud" starring the one and only ... hehehehe! I haven't seen it yet, but I sure hope he got my good-side ... and yes, that is very hard to find now-a-days! What a thoughtful gesture ... thanks!

My hemoglobin is extremely low, which results in extreme fatigue, shortness of breath, numbness in the fingers and toes, etc. Yes, I have them all, but I am nearly 8 months pregnant too so I hate to complain about these side-effects. My doctor suggested today that I will likely get a blood transfusion this week to supplement my red blood supply. Sorta strange for me, I mean the idea of a transfusion. I feel fine ... I mean I have absolutely no pain whatsoever. I am tired, yeah. I nap every single morning and afternoon. But that is near-paradise if you ask me ... daily naps, life is good! But now, a transfusion. Hmm ... it isn't for sure at this point because my oncologist is checking with my ob/gyn, but nonetheless, it sorta threw me for a loop. In the meantime, bring on the naps!

Baby news ... ah, the highlight of this journey. He is doing great! I think "he" is closer to becoming "Blake" by the day! Yes, Blake did not win American Idol, so Rigo and I are free to snatch that name. We have a lot of favorites, which may or may not become the baby's name, but in the meantime we call our baby boy "Blake." Now it's time for us to turn to middle names ... taking all suggestions!

He is moving all the time. My dad and I caught Shrek 3 over the weekend and this kid kicked from start to finish ... he either loves Eddie Murphy or the movie was a tad bit too loud for him. Either way, I once again was one proud mama! It blows our mind to think he will be here is 6 or 7 weeks ... so much of me cannot wait, but there is a sliver of me that wants to scream "ahhhh!" Just the thought of meeting him makes me giddy! Lame, I know ...

Rigo wraps up with school in a few weeks. He is working summer school, but should have more time for the most part. Baseball ended a week or two ago, but summer ball is nearly in full swing. As much as I love being pregnant during baseball season (hello, snack bar food, including burnt hot dogs ... yum), I don't think I will be able to make many games. The Fresno heat is getting to me already ... it is barely May and I struggle to go outside. Yes, baby and I will be spending a lot of "inside" time, but that doesn't exclude the mall! : ) He is getting pretty excited about the baby now that he can feel him a lot more. That is one of my favorite things, to see the look on Rigo's face when he feels him kick ... that proud daddy face!

Thank you all for those prayers, thoughts and messages. I will keep these updates coming over the next few weeks even once chemo ends to keep track of the baby news. In the meantime, please do not worry about us, life is good, we are good.

Baby Action ... Now This Is Good!

2007-05-17T10:57:00.000-07:00

In the last two weeks, we have had quite a bit of baby action ... and that is just paradise for me! First, we met with Dr. Woods last week to get a check-up on me and the baby. His measurements are right on, in fact, a week ahead where he should be. Baby was 2.5 lbs and 12.5 inches long! His heartbeat was 144 bpm! He was soooo cute on the ultrasound screen, still stubborn covering most of his face, but cute! We got a glimpse of the ear and I fell in love. I asked the doctor if the ear looked big ... no, she said. Great! That is really good news I said because Rigo has really, really, really big ears (I love every inch of them though ... yes, I have a soft spot for big-eared men). But, it'd be that much easier for the little guy if he didn't have to have those big things on the side of his head. "Well," the doctor said, "let's just say, they aren't small." Okay. I get it. She was just being polite. I think the little one might just take after his Dad after all. : )

Later in the week, we were blessed by our dear friends with a gift to have the 3-D/4-D ultrasound and video made of the baby. This was Rigo's first time seeing the baby in awhile since he can't make the baby appointments with all the chemo appointments he attends. What an experience. I can't really explain it ... I mean, here is this little man, moving all around, so big and so strong by all appearances! Rigo was in awe the entire time. That made my heart melt. At the end of the appointment, after all the prodding and picking we did of the poor little guy to get in the right position, he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out! It was picture-perfect! We have this brilliant video of the baby in my belly and have been sharing it with anyone we can ... I think it is fair to say, it is amazing to all who share in it with us! Now I can't wait to sit and watch it with him sitting on my lap!

The delivery has arrived ... not the baby, but the baby furniture is in place. I sit and stare for hours. It is so peaceful to just sit in his room and look at all the miniature clothes and miniature socks and miniature baseball hats. It is hard to imagine what that bedroom looked like before the baby gear moved in and took over. I couldn't be happier about getting his place all set up. Papo (my dad) has spent the last two weeks with me and helped get the baby's gear all set up too. Thanks Grandpa!

The baby gear is nearly complete due in part to the amazing generosity of so many wonderful family and friends ... I had a baby shower in my hometown, Manteca, last weekend, on Mother's Day. My mom and mother-in-law and sister-in-law threw me the most beautiful shower ever. I can't begin to explain how many family and friends attended to celebrate the little one's soon-arrival. It was such an exciting day and overwhelming at the same time. Here, my mom and I expected a small turnout given the shower was on Mother's Day. Instead, everyone showed up, but with their mothers and daughters ... it was spectacular! I was in awe myself! I couldn't believe that so many kind people could be so generous and giving to a single family. Rigo and I feel like we don't deserve so much love and kindness ... we know every single person went above and beyond for us and that is a strange feeling ... happy, yes; blessed, yes; grateful, yes; but at the same time, unworthy, yes, that feeling comes over us too. It is just so touching to know we have so many family and friends supporting us and the baby.

Thank you each and every one of you who were able to be there on that day with us. Thank you to those who couldn't make it, but sent messages of your love and thoughts. Thank you to my parents, mom and dad, Linda and Monica for giving Rigo, baby and I the greatest baby shower I could have ever imagined! You all have touched Rigo and I.

That just about wraps it up for us. The baby is busy growing and kicking! I love every second of that ... it is so funny, my back aches and feet hurt, but I am so proud of it. I love being pregnant. I might not have any hair, my belly is huge, but I am so happy and full of joy with this entire process of being pregnant. Perspective, isn't it a funny thing. This cancer thing is a mixed blessing I believe. Aside from meeting so many good people I would have never met otherwise, I am enjoying all the aches and pains of pregnancy because I am so grateful! I know without cancer, I would be the first one to complain about all the aches and pains and interruptions the baby causes, but now I hesitate before I complain about anything, let alone my miracle baby. Perspective, yes it's funny. I like this new perspective I have. We are okay. Life is good.

And Treatment Goes On, And On, And On!

2007-05-17T10:26:00.000-07:00

I am two weeks out from my last post. Quite a bit happened, mostly good!

As far as treatment goes, let me try to catch everyone up with that. I finished my fourth (out of six) round of chemo. Chemo was uneventful for the most part. My dad and Rigo accompanied me to both treatments. Thanks guys! My oncologist, Dr. P, gave me a low down on my counts, which are low, but stable. So far I am doing great because we haven't had to delay any treatments because of my counts. That is one of the benefits of having treatment in the spring rather than the winter.

I have an appointment June 14th in Stanford with Dr. Kahn, my new plastic surgeon to evaluate my case and plan of action. I will be having all of my surgeries at Stanford, which is a relief to know I am getting the best care out there.

In regards to the rest of the "plan" for now, I will be finishing this set of chemo at the end of June ... wooohoo!!! (My hair should start growing back immediately!) I have the month of July off ... no cancer treatment at all, just make sure the baby is baking, and he will be, Fresno in July ... hmm! The baby is due August 10th, but the doc's have indicated that I can induce a natural delivery (yeah) two weeks early. This works out perfect because the baby and I need 4 weeks off before I deliver to get both of our white blood cell counts up. This means I should expect the little guy to make his arrival the last week of July or first week of August.

Immediately after I deliver (okay, about 2 weeks later), I plan on going in for surgery. I have no idea how long the recovery should take and I have no idea what I plan on doing regarding reconstruction (immediate vs postponed). I do know that immediately after surgery, I will be beginning chemo again, but this time a different cocktail ... taxol and AC I think. This set of chemo will last about 12 weeks I believe. Again, I'll lose any hair I have. Taxol is a much more effective drug to treat breast cancer so it is essential I get this treatment. However, the drug is toxic to the baby, that is why I am not getting it now and explains why I cannot breast feed. I am thinking this gets me to November, December of this year ... yuck, 2007 is just a ugh year, aside from the greatest gift ever ... our little guy!

Radiation is probably going to be nixed out of the treatment plan for now since I am having a bilateral (double) mastectomy. As for the ovaries, I am still waiting to see how this delivery goes ... do I want 10 more kids, no more kids, one more kid??? We'll see ... but I highly doubt it is gonna be 10 more kids!

As I explained early during this journey, we don't know my stage of cancer and we never will because I am pregnant and I can't undergo any screening or body scans. When I have surgery, the doc's will remove and examine my lymph nodes, which will give us a good indication on whether the cancer has spread.

I think I am pretty glad that I don't know my stage, and never will. The realities of this disease is definitely taking on a new form to me. I know that people die from cancer, but I guess I haven't really focused much attention on that over the last few months. But the last two weeks, the realities have begun to set in a little more. I met a woman at Target last week. A beautiful woman whom I could immediately tell was on chemo like myself. I decided to approach her and introduce myself. We had a pleasant conversation. Her first question for me was "what stage are you?" "I'm pregnant so we don't know my stage. You?" "Stage 4, it's in my lungs and bones. I can't really breathe well." Ugh ... I had a terrible knot in my stomach. Here is this woman who represents so much of what I am going through, but her battle is so much more difficult. Here I am, 7 months pregnant and on chemo and I have it easier than her. She has such an uphill battle, one that is not impossible, I know, I am hopeful, but one that has the odds against her. I am sad when I leave.

I meet another wonderful woman who introduced herself to me. I remind her of her daughter, an amazingly gorgeous young girl I see as her mom brings out pictures from her wallet. I ask how old her daughter was at her diagnosis? A mere 16 years old. However, this beautiful girl didn't make it and now is in heaven. Again, I am sad. I say a prayer for her, for Alex, the young girl, and I ask her for any help we can get from above!

The Relay for Life in Fresno was held on May 5th. What an experience ... I was given the priceless opportunity to stand up and share my story. I proudly did ... with a few fumbles along the way, but I got it out nonetheless. There were hundreds of kindred spirits there, all with the same purpose, to eliminate this horrific disease of cancer. It is overwhelming and fulfilling to know there are so many supporters out there, in my own community. But again, I have to say, I left feeling a little bit sad ... sad for the number of people who lost their fights with this ugly disease, and sad for the families they left behind. I am hopeful for me and my son, but the reality of this disease is ever-so-present. That makes me humble and gracious to God for the gift of every single day.

Rigo and I also made it out to the Komen Race for the Cure in Sacramento last weekend. We both walked the 5k with our dear friends from college, Seth and Karin and their adorable little ones, Logan (3 yrs old who walked the entire 5k) and Avery. They say that 25,000 people participated. 25,000 people took part in the fight against Breast Cancer ... wow, 25,000! Thank you Seth and Karin for inviting us ... we'll be there next year, but next time we'll have a stroller!

Armed With Answers, Now What?

2007-05-01T10:59:00.000-07:00

The battle goes on and now that I have an answer to "why I have cancer," I must decide what to do with that information. I have a BRCA 1 genetic mutation, which means that in all likelihood, I have a very, very high chance of getting a NEW, SECOND Breast Cancer within 5 years. Let's be clear. I am not saying that the cancer I have now will spread. I am saying that my chances of getting an entirely new breast cancer in the same breast or the other breast is extremely high. Being BRCA 1 positive also means that statistically speaking, I have a very high chance of getting ovarian cancer also. Remember, the BRCA 1 gene is related to breasts, ovaries and prostates ... good I don't have one of those or else I'd be in way over my head!

Okay, so clarity ... that is what I have with these answers. The fact that BRCA 1 positive people have a statistically dismal outlook when it comes to second cancers, it is not 100 percent. Not all BRCA 1 positive people get cancer or get second cancers. Laws of attractions ... what a beauty. As much as I am trying to be positive about my diagnosis, and I know I have a long time to complete my goal of living a long 97 years, I am also a realist. I know what my odds are and I have a son in my belly that I want to nurture, I want to raise, I want to watch him play ball, I want to be at his first day of school and his graduations, I want to be at his wedding and hold his babies. I want to live and I will live. That is why, knowing my odds, I have to take control of this nasty disease to gain control over my life.

Going into this diagnosis, my doctor was hopeful that I was a good candidate for a lumpectomy. All that is changed now knowing I am BRCA 1 positive. I will be having a bilateral mastectomy. I already have an appointment with the surgeon in Stanford. I will be having my surgery there. Reconstruction is another issue ... I do not know what I want to do or what I will do. I have to thoroughly understand all my options and decide what's best for me (with a little input from Rigo) ... I mean I need these girls to last the long haul. I haven't made a decision about reconstruction because there are just soooo many options. Implants, silicon, saline, natural reconstruction with my fat from my abs or thighs (yes, that is essentially a tummy tuck or lipo from thighs), and so on ... ah, and the beauty of the doctors letting me know that "it's my decision." Ugh ... what a tough decision, but I am eager and hopeful. I just need time to research. Thankfully, with the internet, that is my forte. But the decision has been made, I will be having a bilateral mastectomy. (Notably, there are so many options, that I can remove one breast now and save the other to breast feed future children ... I cannot breastfeed this go around since I am in treatment ... and then remove the second breast after I have all my kids ... hmm ... options, options ... what's a girl to do?!?)

Okay, so the breasts are coming off and the ovaries (and fallopian tubes) are coming out. Yes, I have the joy of going into menopause at 28 years old. Whatev's ... I have 97 long years to get use to it! : ) This area gets a little complicated. Ovaries out means no more children. Ovaries out means a less than 2 percent chance that I can get ovarian cancer (which is a very trying and difficult cancer to manage). My doctors are happy I have decided to go forward with this procedure, but the issue is when? When do I want to remove the ovaries? My gut reaction is take them now ... I don't want that ticking time bomb festering. I have one precious miracle child and who am I to be greedy ... one is more than enough ... I am blessed with him!

Well, my doctors only request is that I don't rush into anything. He is very concerned I will do just that ... go scrape them out right away. In fact, every doctor (except one) and all of the literature I have read indicates that it is safe for BRCA 1 Positive women to keep their ovaries for 5 years under doctor's supervision. My doctor insists that Rigo and I should not be short-changed in any way just because I have cancer. He wants us to have as many children as we have always wanted, just within the next 5 years. Rigo and I always wanted two children, fairly close in age, so that is nice to know it is feasible. But this is just another decision for us to evaluate and consider. I mean, I have to be honest. I do not know how I feel about getting pregnant again. I have be blessed with an easy and joyous pregnancy, but I can't ignore that I was diagnosed with cancer while pregnant. I am afraid to get pregnant again. My cancer is not related to the pregnancy at all (I inherited it, remember). But it's there and it's a part of me. A part of my journey, that I get to share with "Blake." Do I want to do this again? Rigo does ... he would like another baby ... two ... two is what he wants for our family. He wants things to stay the same as we always had planned. I totally understand that. And I agree. But I am not sure how I feel about it all. I decided I have to wait and see. I won't wait too long, but we'll see how this delivery goes and how I feel after "Blake" gets here. It's a lot ... all of this ... a lot to decide ... a lot to grapple with. Who knows, I may want 5 kids after "Blake" arrives, but then again, maybe one. We'll see what the future holds ... one things for sure, I have a long 97 years to live!

I had big chemo yesterday and all looks well. Treatment in on track and baby is busy kicking and growing! I have a meeting today to begin working at Valley Children's Hospital. I hope to work/volunteer with the children in the oncology department ... I think it will be mutually beneficial! On Saturday, at 8am at Fresno State, I am speaking to all the participants in the Fresno Relay for Life in the opening ceremonies. Hopefully, I can get the message of hope across!

Thanks all for checking in with us and keeping your prayers coming our way! We are okay. I love hearing from you all and think of my dear family and friends often ... and I love hearing stories of how the Valley is being painted with pink bracelets! Thanks guys ... you're the best!

Dealt Another Blow ... Ugh, This Blows!

2007-05-01T10:04:00.000-07:00

Last week was my "off week" to complete my third cycle of this round of chemotherapy. To catch all you up on my tentative treatment plan, as of yesterday, I have 9 more weeks of chemo (three more cycles), four weeks off to get my WBC higher for delivery (July), then baby (July or August)! After baby, I believe (subject to change) I am going to go through another 3 or 4 months of chemotherapy, surgery and then radiation. Afterwards, I will be as good as new!

During my off week, I took time to rest (as usual) and spend some wonderful quality time with dear family and friends. In fact, Rigo's grandmother, aunt and cousins arrived at house (from the Bay Area) Saturday morning at the crack of dawn with their minivan full of comida ... good, authentic as can be Mexican food ... and enough for an army ... or the two of us for two weeks! Rice, beans, tostadas, sopes, horchata y mas y mas! Grandma and Tia Irma walked into the house in the early morning and hit the kitchen ... and never stopped! They cooked and reheated and feed us non-stop the entire morning, day and night! It sure was nice to have all of that home-cooking in our house, especially since this is pretty much the first real home-cooking in our house since I refuse to enter the kitchen for anything else besides cereal! Not only did our dear loved ones go above and beyond with the food, the company couldn't have been beat! Rigo spent the day in the pool with the kids and the ladies wouldn't let me lift a dish and took care of the entire house ... the whole nine yards! Thank you Grandma and Irma ... we love you!

Of course, I have my dear friends to keep me busy and help the time pass. I caught up with a college girlfriend, Elena who just had a beautiful baby 3 months ago ... he just made me miss "Blake" that much more, but I am sure they will be good friends! My girls (and their men) took me to the Clovis Rodeo for Not To Tough To Wear Pink Night ... this was such fun! I mean, aside from the sweltering heat and seats that bruise butts, yes, even gigantic pregnant butts, the night was full of fun, excitement, great music and perfect 20-something year old company! Thank you ladies for letting me still feel semi-normal ... normal enough to have a blast, even if a margarita wasn't involved. (Although, there was a bull in the competition named Tequila)! A few more months, oh ... how nice that will be ... Jim Wagoner and Jack Fisher ... I'll be back!

So, down to the nitty-gritty ... the good and the bad. I had two check-ups for the baby last week and he is doing great. Perfect and on track. Strong heart beat at 143 bpm. His personality is coming through more and more each week. A little stubborn with his hands in his face, but even that makes me a proud mama! Last week, I saw him open his mouth and stick his hand/thumb into it! My heart melted and tears streamed down my cheeks. I love him so very much ... my favorites are the feet shots! I love those baby feet! And I even got a peak at a smile ... yes, he actually smiled ... some may not believe me, but I have dozens and dozens of ultrasound pics to prove it! : ) Benefit to cancer ... lots of ultrasounds! hehehehe!

The bad ... the genetic results came in last Thursday. I spent all day Wednesday anxious, knowing my results were sitting at the Dr.'s office, but I had to wait until Thursday morning at 8am to hear how my entire future, my life, my husband's life will be shaped. Ugh ... it was a grueling day on Wednesday. Needless to say, I prepared myself mentally that Thursday was going to be a rough day ... not a rough chemo day (it was my "off week"), but a rough emotional day ... just one of those days many of us with cancer, and yes, those without cancer, have every now and then. The difference here is I pre-planned for it, which is against Rigo's and my own principles. I have so much to live for, to be grateful for and to celebrate in my life. All of that is true, but Thursday was going to be hard. Why?

I was going to hear from the doctor one of three things: 1) I am negative for the mutation; 2) I am positive for the mutation; or, 3) My results are uncertain for the mutation. I have cancer. I am 27 years old and I am 6 months pregnant. I personally deal much better with answers, logic and details. I am a lawyer. I need certainty as much as possible. A negative result for a genetic mutation is good and bad. Good because my family is free and clear of this terrible disease, but bad because I already have cancer and this result simply lets me know no one has any idea why I got cancer ... I am a good person, but that is not good enough. You have cancer at 27 years old and no one can tell you why you have it, whether it will come back and how you should proceed with treatment ... it's up to you, and yet there is virtually no science or certainty to back it up. So for me, Thursday was going to be a bad day with a negative result.

An uncertain result is just that ... the results cannot pinpoint whether you have a mutation or not. There is no certain result ... it's a maybe. Gee, this would really, really suck. It means that you likely do not have a BRCA (breast cancer gene 1) 1 or BRCA 2 mutation, but that you likely have an unidentified mutation. Doctors know there are dozens of genetic mutations that cause breast cancer, but only 2 of those mutations have been identified ... BRCA 1 and BRCA 2. Thus, an uncertain result means it is likely a heredity cause that lead to your breast cancer, but as scientists, they cannot give a certain result since the genetic mutation at this time is both unidentified and untreatable. (That is why supporting breast cancer research is critical!) A result like uncertain was my worst fear ... I mean, what can you do with that type of information ... I may or may not pass it onto my son, I may or may not need to cut off my breasts, I may or may not get cancer again, I may or may not die. Ugh ... I needed answers.

Well, I got 'em. On Thursday, April 26th, Rigo and I learned that I have a "DELETERIOUS MUTATION FOR BRCA 1." Isn't that a little harsh, I mean I guess I find it a little humorous that my patient copy of the results reads in bold print and all caps that I have a deleterious mutation ... really, could they have worked a little harder on their word choice! I mean have you ever heard that word before, deleterious ... it just sounds so harsh ... reminds me of exterminate, terminate or like my being is about to be deleted from history ... give me a break ... okay, maybe it's me, but I think they could have been a little softer about it, don't you think?

Okay, so I figured and in a morbid kinda way, I hoped for a Positive Result. Ah, the beauty of laws of attraction ... I hoped for a positive result and I got it ... I will survive ... laws of attraction! A positive result is not the best news in the world. In fact, in the medical world, it is bad. It is frightening and scary with a sorta grim outlook. Well, I didn't take it that bad, but I am not totally naive. I know it is bad. But, I already have cancer, so I am okay with it. I am okay. We are okay. I have a good, good life (and an awesome baby in the belly).

Okay, let's break it down. I have a genetic mutation in every single piece of DNA in my entire body. The DNA is mutated at the same spot on each strand. That mutation has prevented my body from making the amino acids that DNA needs to repair itself. Thus, my DNA has not worked to protect me from disease and viola, I have a tumor in my breast. This DNA mutation is everywhere in my body and I have had it my entire life. I inherited it (on my father's side ... no blame assignment here, but doctors use to tell me it was impossible to inherit from the father's side ... hello ... and it's impossible to have cancer at 27 while pregnant). I haven't had a tumor earlier in my life because my healthy DNA (from my mom's side) was picking up the slack for my mutated DNA. Well, that all stopped a few months, maybe a year ago. Doctors can't be certain when I first got cancer. That doesn't matter.

Anyways, even though this DNA is everywhere in my body (DNA, not cancer cells), the DNA mutation only really affects breast, ovaries and prostates. That is why my mutation caused my breast cancer. And that is why knowing I have this mutation is so very important to my goal of living until I am 97 years old and that of my immediate family members. Knowledge is power and I now I have knowledge of: 1) Why I got cancer; 2) Will it come back; and, 2) What can I do to take control of this cancer and my life. I know now. I have the answers I was looking for.

This is such a personal decision. I understand completely how some people would not want to know that they have ticking time bombs just festering inside them. But see, I already have the cancer and I needed to know why I got it. Did I not exercise enough (between my marathon and Wagoner's hike from hell, I thought I'd be good for awhile)? Did I eat too much red meat? Do I worry too much? Do I need to do more yoga? There are so many theories, but I don't have to live in the land of theory anymore. I know I have cancer because I was born like this. There was nothing I could do about it. I had a 90 percent chance of getting breast cancer since I am BRCA 1 positive and sure enough, I fell in that 90 percent group. Now I know. I know not everyone in my family will decide to get tested and I fully understand their decision. Heck, if I didn't have to go through this right now, I would have never thought about getting tested. But here I am. I am on my journey. Jamie's journey to a 97 year long life ... so what that I have this hump at 27 years old. I have some more clarity today that I did this time last week and that clarity will guide me in my treatment and how I live a full and complete, no-looking-back on my 97 year long life!

Did I mention that I want to go sky-diving after I deliver? Anyone else interested? I have no qualms going solo, but that is what I want to do, and gosh darn it, I am doing it ... I should have swam with the sharks, but I got talked out of it ... so I am jumping out a plane ... any takers?

I Can't Sleep ... And Life Couldn't Be Better!

2007-04-20T02:28:00.000-07:00

Yep, I am wide-awake right now, but I couldn't be any happier! (Little side note: Thank you God for another day, night, morning ... whatever time this gosh-awful hour is considered.)

I couldn't be any happier and had to run to turn on the computer to share with you all, since it is not a decent hour to call my mom or dad. I am ecstatic, not by having to take my now-routine bathroom break in the middle of the night (which I love now ... baby sign), but because I am certain I just felt our little champ kicking away at my belly! I couldn't be any more proud of my little miracle boy! : )

The realities of sleepless-pregnancy nights are beginning to take shape, but I truly could not be any happier right now! In all honesty, I was beginning to get a little nervous, even though the docs told me not too. I mean, I am now 25 weeks pregnant (Mom ... that is a little over 6 months) and I wasn't feeling anything ... until 25 minutes ago!!!! I felt the champ kick in the exact spot the doctor suggested I would feel him (yeah, maybe a little suggestibility). And this time it was different. Before, I would get sharp quick pains on my left side ... even a nurse suggested that those sharp pains on the left may be the baby. I so know now those pains were clearly gas! This time I know it, it is not gas, this is my baby! Our baby ... our little miracle guy ... he has been through 3 complete rounds of chemotherapy and I feel his kicks! I am so very proud of him! Way to go kiddo! My sister-in-law, Monica, was right when she told me "you will just know" when you feel him. I know now, I know at 2:30 in the morning, and I am so very happy.

Today is a good day. We are okay. We are better than okay. Baby is kicking and this mama couldn't be more proud!

Halfway Done ... Cycle # 3

2007-04-17T11:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I completed my third cycle of this round of chemotherapy. (After I deliver the baby, we anticipate beginning a new round of chemo with a set of different drugs.) We are halfway done ... Congratulations baby Ledezma ... you are halfway done too! Last week, my "big chemo" week, was pretty smooth. In my earlier post, I wrote about how my mom was in town and helped out with things. She kept the house under control. As typical with the other weeks of chemo, I had my share of cat-naps. There hasn't been much noticeable pain associated with the chemo. My biggest complaint is the fatigue, but I have the time and ability to nap when I need too. When I overdo it, which has happened a few times, I can keep up, but I pay the price later. Trust me, I have been in situations where I am having too much fun and should throw in the towel, but don't. When I get home or get down-time, I crawl into bed with aches and pains. That is the pain I feel with chemo. I think it is just exhaustion at its best ... to the point of throbbing aches. All that subsides after a few hours of sleep, which thankfully, I am not having problems with anymore.

My oncologist, Dr. Perkins, gave me another stamp of approval last week (and this week). My WBC is higher than its been ... I have been in the 4,000 to 5,000 range, which is fine. My lowest point was 2,000, so I am doing better. My hemoglobin is pretty low, 9.1, which is a little concerning to the doc. Ideally, I would be getting Procrit on a daily basis, but with the baby, I can't. The low hemoglobin is a direct result of the chemo, but with most patients, they can treat it. Just not with me. I am not sure why I need hemoglobin, but I do know the low count results in fatigue, shortness of breath and dizziness ... all of which I have. But, hey, I am pregnant ... who isn't fatigued, have shortness of breath and get dizzy! Thank you pregnant friends ... I am humbled by the side-effects of chemo thanks to pregnancy!

Dr. P reminded me that since I am not working right now, make sure to get my walks in ... he recommended two walks a day (HA)! I miss running (jogging) dearly and look forward to getting back to that. In the meantime, Tiki and I are trying to get a walk in a day ... we can handle about 2-3 miles a day, but at the end of the walk ... Tiki needs a nap more than I do! My appetite is great ... pregnancy certainly has one-up on chemo in this arena ... I have no problem getting food down. The desire to eat is ever-present and the supply of food is steady ... yes, a supply for two! As much as I hate to admit it, I am happily gaining weight every week ... and the baby is doing great! It is so funny seeing all my various doctors and them being so pleased with my weight-gain! It is hilarious ... the stamp-of-approval for gaining weight.

As for the baby, we had another ultrasound last week. We are 24 weeks, so just began our six month! He is looking better than ever ... oh those feet are adorable! He had his feet crossed at the ankles ... I love him! As for his face, buster-brown was being a little stubborn and was not feeling it ... he refused to take his hands away from his face and after about 10 minutes of trying, he decided enough was enough and flipped over in the fetal position so all the doc and I saw was his little booty on the ultrasound screen. Needless to say, he is doing just fine. His measurements came in right on track ... he was 1 lb., 3 oz. with a heartbeat of 150 bpm! Our baby furniture arrives the first week of May and mama couldn't be anymore excited for that! I can't wait to start putting his room together (now that Grandma cleaned the room out)!

I had my "little chemo" yesterday. So far, so good. One nap yesterday, but otherwise, no nausea. I am on my own this week ... Rigo took me to chemo, but no mom or dad here. I miss them, but we chat on the phone several times a day. Rigo is taking great care of me and I am enjoying the break. Rigo is constantly checking in and my friends are calling to make sure I am okay. I am okay. I am doing well. I mean, the baby is doing great, so I couldn't be any better. I have a beautiful life growing (yes, growing) inside me. It is so amazing. I have cancer. I am on chemo, which is killing so much of the cancer, but also so much of the healthy me too ... my hair, my nails (which are now black), my skin, it is all going through so many changes because of the chemo. But my baby is getting bigger and bigger and he is developing his own little personality ... with just the right amount of stubbornness! What a champ, atta boy! I am okay, we are okay.

As an aside, spring has sprung and 'tis the season for races and runs and more! I have been contacted by family and friends in the most special way ... letting me know that they are participating in charity runs in support of me. I hate having cancer. Let me be crystal clear, cancer sucks. But is there any other experience in life which a single person gets to see the good in so many people. I have never before paid much attention to the actions of others. But, under these circumstances, the actions of others are truly carrying me along ... and I thank God that the actions of others are so good, so pure and so genuine. Thank you for participating in such a good cause, now MY cause, and thank you for doing it in support of baby and I. I hope to make it out to most of the events to support you in your accomplishment, but if I cannot, you are in my thoughts. This time next year, I will meet you at the finish line! : )

FYI, the Clovis Rodeo is having a pink night to benefit the Komen Foundation on Friday, April 27th. The Fresno Relay for Life is May 5th, the Race for the Cure in Sacramento is May 12th, the Tracy and Clovis Relay for Life is May 19th. In October, breast cancer awareness month, the Fresno Race for the Cure takes place and my SIL, Shannon is walking the 3-Day Walk in Atlanta for breast cancer awareness. The 3-Day Walk will be in San Diego in November. Any and all donations to participants is a tax write-off and in the meantime, you can buy breast cancer stamps (hurry, before the prices go up)! : )

Thanks for your thoughts, messages and prayers. We are okay. We will be okay. We made it through half of the chemo treatment. The next half will be a piece of cake. Bring it on ...

A Week of family, friends and more family!

2007-04-17T10:55:00.000-07:00

Apologies to all for taking such a long break from my blogging. I have just been having so much fun, I haven't gotten a chance to sit and write. Well, let's start with my last "off week," which was Easter week. The Hernandez Family was in full force - mom and dad were both here, the Atlanta crew was here and my brother Mike made his rounds to visit! On April 1st, we had a baby shower for my sister-in-law, Shannon, and my soon-to-be niece, here in Fresno. What a blast we had ... family in town from Manteca, cousins from San Jose, my aunt from Louisiana, and the list goes on. There was a great turn-out and it couldn't have been better ... good company and treats for the baby! Boy, little girl stuff is just soooo cute! I can't wait to have a girl in the family finally!

I have to admit, although I didn't do any work, just the shear excitement of having the family in town got me pretty tired. During the shower, I was so happy to see everyone, but I got worn-out. I think the larger the crowds, the more tired I get ... it's weird, but I get like that in church too (that might be Grandma Parker though too!). During Shan's shower, I made my first official debut as a hair-free woman, donned with the bonnet and all! I felt fine going out like this and was prepared, so I thought ... until the flashes of the cameras began to flicker. That was strange ... I didn't like it that much. My family has always been big on taking pictures, so I should have expected this. But in a way, I feel like my picture was being taken more because I have cancer ... I know, it's probably in my head. I was paranoid and not certain how I felt about having my picture taken being hair-free with a big belly. It's not like we have a shortage of pictures of me in my family ... we have lots, trust me. All I know is that I wasn't sure how I felt. I could fairly say I didn't like having the pictures taken, but I didn't seem to have a vote. Oh well, I had to be broken in sometime or another ... being a Hernandez I don't think I get much of a vote when it comes to picture-taking.

I have since seen some of the pictures, and albeit a little disturbing for me to see, it is at the same time, a little reaffirming also. I have to get use to the new me, I suppose. This is me. I have no hair, I have a belly like I have never had before, I think I am a little pale and I have chemo-burns on my face. This is me. But I also have a smile glued on my face that tells the story of my hope and joy. This is me. I appreciate that the pictures have captured my spirit. The physical changes my body is going through is difficult, very difficult for me to see. I am not sure how I feel about those physical changes being documented. But I am pleased to see that my eyes and my smile speak volumes about my spirit. Thank you my crazy family and relatives for not giving me a vote and documenting this journey. As hard as this is, one day our son will know just how much hope and joy he (and being with the rest of my family) brought to me during this trying time.

The rest of the week was spent in San Diego visiting family and friends. The weather was terrible, but it is San Diego, so needless to say, it was beautiful. Rigo and I just love San Diego! Things were pretty mellow for us, the weekend full of walks at Bonita Park and the outlets. We said our good-bye's to the Atlanta family, which is always a tough thing to do, but next time we visit, there will be two new little ones ... a girl and a boy! And that was the week. Dad was relieved of duty and stayed back in San Diego until my next "big week."

Mom came back with Rigo, Tiki and I, as she was still "on duty." True to form, when she eventually left at the end of the week, not only could I not find any of my dishes or linens in my house, I had another six dozen chocolate chip cookies in my arsenal. Yes, six dozen, not quite nine dozen like her last stay, but six, which is plenty Ma! My mom and dad are so different, but in the perfect way! I truly get the best of both worlds with them as my parents. And no, I don't have a favorite. When Dad is here, he makes sure I stay in bed and eat plenty. He is very quite and tries so very hard not to disturb me. When Mom is here, she reminds me how nice it must be not to work and that there are a million and one things to get done around here before the baby comes. Let's get to it ... she doesn't even let my poor dear Tiki rest! And yes, true to her form, she finds enough time and energy to get a million and two things done! In one day, she cleaned out all of my closets, reorganized them and cleaned the garage out completely, which was quite a task, all the while cooking up her delicious dishes of deviled-eggs and hamburger meat goulash! In case some of you didn't know and haven't figured it out by now, I have a Jewish mother! : ) And I love her and dad all the same!

This last weekend, I was honored to have my dear, dear girlfriends come and visit me. Seven of my dear friends, each a friend from high school, some I have known since the fourth grade, came to Fresno to visit. The girls and I have all stayed in close touch since high school, but since we all live so far away from each other (with real-life duties like paying rent, getting to work, some of us on the weekend shift, spending time with our significant others, some with children, and trying to maintain a clean supply of chonies), we do not get to visit as much as we'd like. In fact, in the three years I have been back in Fresno, they have not gotten a chance to visit us in Fresno yet (a thing called life keeps them busy, I know ... I was there just two months ago)! So, this was a big treat for me ... Rigo helped out by running to the store and getting us snacks for the weekend (100 percent junk ... thanks babe).

In the days leading up to their visit, I would tell my "new" Fresno friends that I was having my high school friends visit ... all seven of them at once. The response was always the same ... "wow, that is great you guys stayed so close and in touch." I never realized how lucky I am to have these ladies in my life, I though it was natural. Everyone stayed friends with their grade school and high school counterparts. But I now realize what a rare blessing it is to still be friends with so many wonderful ladies who have been in my life for such a long time.

Thank you ladies for taking the time, the energy and incurring the cost (hello, have you seen gas prices) to come stay with me and spoil me rotten. Your presence lifted my spirit to a place it hasn't been in a very long time. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard for such a long time. From the time you all arrived, to when you left, I couldn't stop smiling with joy! You guys are hilarious! I love your lightheartedness and humor! And I was touched (and have to say a little impressed) by your sincerity and concern for the baby and I ... I am soooo very happy and grateful we were all able to get together. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I pray you left our home knowing that I am okay and baby and I will conquer this battle. With the support from my family and friends, we will be okay. We are okay. Thanks in part to all your efforts ... we are okay. Thanks ladies!

It's Catching Up To Me ...

2007-04-01T05:19:00.000-07:00

That's for sure. This chemo thing is beginning to take its toll on me. What a week it's been. Thursday and Friday were pretty much complete washes for me and I'd rather not ever go back to those days. On Thursday, four days out from my chemo, I had planned on registering for the baby. (Bad plan on my part ... four days ... hello.) My sister-in-law, Monica, drove two hours to come help me register. We had this all planned. I woke up not feeling too hot, but it was already planned. I thought, if I get tired, we'll just slow down. Let's just say, going slow did NOT cut it. I paid the price that night, the minute I got home and all day Friday. I think I had a cold to top it all off too. Pregnancy, cancer, chemo, cold and exhaustion do not mix well. I learned my lesson (Dad, Rigo, body). I will listen to my body and those men a little better.

Chemo was fine on Monday. My counts were fine. My hemoglobin was at its lowest yet, but Dr. P said everything seems fine. We recaped our Stanford appointment with Dr. P. Both doctors agreed about treatment, but Dr. P disagrees with Dr. Carlson on the genetic mutation issue. Dr. P thinks I only have a 20 percent chance of testing positive, and even then, he does not want to do radical surgeries (ovaries and breasts) for several years to give Rigo and I a chance to have more children. Nonetheless, he knew we were eager to get answers, so he referred us to a geneticist. I could go more into it like all the doctors and websites do, but part of me thinks who the hell cares what my chances are ... I am getting sick of all these probabilities. Let's just do the dang test, wait for the results and then take it from there. Really, the doctors couldn't have given me more contradictory "probabilities," so instead of putting my money on any one doctor, I am gonna wait for the results.

During chemo this week, I was given more anti-nausea meds via IV because my last go around at 5-FU wasn't so pleasant. My veins are sore now. It is tolerable, just sore. Everyday sore though, like bruised. I went for a manicure yesterday and had to ask the 80 pound manicurist to go lighter on my arm because she was hurting me ... ha! Had I not been bald, she probably would have laughed right at my face! Dad loves going to chemo now that he learned where to find the headphones for the plasma TV that plays movies. That keeps him busy all 2 hours of chemo! Rigo is getting better looking at the needles. It never fails though ... he has to "go to the bathroom" every time the IV gets inserted. Atta boy. A fellow sister of this battle flirted with Rigo, which made his day. It didn't matter she has been married for 60 years this May ... yes, do the math yourself. It was still flattering for Rigo! : )

As I've begun to acknowledge, it's catching up to me. After chemo on Monday, Rigo, Dad and I got some lunch and headed home. Rigo went off to baseball and I went off to bed. I felt fine, just exhausted. My first few chemo treatments, I was off running errands and shopping. Now, it's off to bed. In a way, this makes Rigo much happier ... I do less damage in bed.

On Tuesday, I had an appointment with the high risk pregnancy doctor. This appointment was just a follow-up. No new information on either end, doc's or mine. It took 2 hours to wait and see the doctor, which is a little frustrating when all they say is "everything looks great, see you in two weeks." But, ah, there is nothing frustrating going to this doctor's office when I get to see "Blake" wiggle around inside me! I LOVE THIS DOCTOR'S VISIT! I am 22 weeks pregnant and I haven't felt the baby move yet. I can't wait until I do. I don't though. So ultrasounds are my only form of knowing the baby is tumbling around. Dad took me to the appointment, so I invited him back for the ultrasound with me. Rigo couldn't make the appointment because he is going to chemo with me each week. My dad has never seen a baby on an ultrasound, so this was quite an exciting moment for him ... to see his newest grandson on TV! Blake looks great. He looks strong! He looks like his dad! His toes are so cute ... his second toe is longer than his first toe, just like Dad! And I think he definitely has Dad's bone structure on his eyebrows at least ... those puppy eyes ... they are my favorite! Ah, how I love this appointment. Blake's heartbeat was a healthy 152 this week and he is doing just fine with chemo ... what a champ!

We hit the mall after this appointment and bought Blake (and my soon-to-be niece) a few outfits to celebrate his strength and then rolled home for a nap! That was our day. Wednesday was uneventful, but okay for the most part. I think my cold was coming to fruition on Wednesday so I didn't feel great, but things were going fine.

On Thursday morning, I had an appointment with the genetic counselor. Again, after 2 hours, it was well worth the wait. I went through my history with the doctor and she gave me some probabilities ... this time 40 to 50 percent chance I will test positive for BRCA 1 or BRCA 2. 40 to 50 percent ... what are the chances she'd say that ... now I have one doctor saying my odds are 100 percent, one doctor saying my odds are 40 to 50 percent and a third doctor saying its 20 percent ... ha! Let's just do the test people! Okay, so if I do not test positive for BRCA 1 or BRCA 2, that does not mean I do not have a genetic mutation which caused my cancer, that just means I do not have a mutation that science can identify ... yet! That is where you all come in ... support breast cancer research. Doctors know other mutations exist, but they haven't been identified. Please buy products that support breast cancer research, such as stamps. At Vons yesterday while I was grocery shopping, I found Viva paper towels that support breast cancer research ... love Viva! So, here we are ... I went through the counseling and got another set of probabilities and an expensive blood test that I will take on Monday. I will get the results on April 26th ... we'll know then, we'll know then.

The rest of Thursday was spent registering for the baby and breaking my body down to a pulp. I love that Monica came to help me because aside from loving the baby, I really have no clue what to do or get ... clueless. And I haven't been doing that great reading up on it either with all my cancer reading. I am so happy I am pregnant, but I wore myself down a LOT on Thursday, so the registering experience wasn't that wonderful. There's always next time ...

Friday I had another baby appointment and all was fine ... heartbeat another solid (and consistent) 152 beats per minute. No ultrasound on Friday, just the heartbeat ... and back to the napping.

So, it's catching up to me. My body is feeling it, my veins, my immune system, my energy level. Okay chemo, take over my body ... just kill the cancer too. My baby is fine, so I am fine. I have no hair, but I have so much more. Everyday I continue to get wonderful cards in the mail, messages from dear friends, the ones who call everyday, every week and those who I haven't talked to in awhile ... all to check up on me ... I love you all for that! Thank you. Thank you to those for keeping us in your prayers. It is a big week coming up, Easter and Passover. Thank you for continuing to pray for my family and I.

My boys are coming today ... that is why I probably can't sleep. My nephews, Devin and Pace from Atlanta (and their parents, my bro and his wife) are coming to visit for Spring Break! I couldn't be more excited for their arrival. They will be here in a few hours! Rigo is off all week, but he has baseball all week ... fun for me too believe it or not! I love making it out to the field as much as I can. Four games in 3 days ... and maybe more ... Championship! Nice ... It will be a good week. No chemo, my boys are here, lots of baseball, beautiful weather, San Diego for the holiday with family, and my health. I am here, with my loved ones. This will be a good week. I may not have any hair, but I have my boys! We have a good life. We are hopeful. "Blake" is healthy and strong and I am better. It is catching up to me that dang chemo, but I am taking this week off! Hasta la vista chemo ...

"The Day" ... Continued

2007-04-01T04:52:00.000-07:00

I had a bob. I liked it. I made it through that cut just fine. It was sort of fun. Liberating. I got a haircut without the tension of wondering whether she was cutting off too much, did she understand what I wanted, did she know what she was doing ... all the typical haircut concerns were out the window.

I made the call. I sat for a moment, appreciating my bob. I smiled at Rigo in the mirror and paused for a moment to capture the moment. I turned to Deborah and told her I was ready. I was ready for her to take off every piece of hair I had on my head knowing it wasn't going to grow back for the next six months or so, knowing my baby boy will be born with more hair than his mama (which is a good thing, the chemo isn't affecting him).

Deborah, my angel, asked if I wanted to watch? No. And thank you for asking. I wasn't prepared for that, but since you asked, no ... I did not want to watch. She turned me around and away from the oversized wall mirror and I faced Rigo. She took the clippers and began cutting all of my hair. My heart shattered at the first sensation of the clippers on my head and I broke down. I broke completely down. I had no awareness of anyone around me (thank goodness it was only Rigo and Deborah). I was crying, no, I was sobbing ... funny noises and all. There was no point at trying to restrain myself ... the floodgates had broken. Dear sweet Rigo welled up too and did the best he could to stay strong. I don't think it was the shaving my head that bothered him. I think he couldn't handle seeing the pain I was feeling, knowing there was nothing he could do to help me. Deborah began crying, paused to kiss me and hold me, and moved on. She stayed strong and kept shaving my head. I am grateful she didn't wait for me to get a hold of myself or else I would still be sitting in that chair. Despite this terribly emotional experience for me and Rigo and Deborah now, she kept going. Rigo held my hand and I sobbed and sobbed.

I began talking to "Blake." "Blake" is a contender in the world of baby names, but it is not set in stone. But for the time being and as a matter of convenience, Rigo and I talk to our baby and call him "Blake." Blake and I have a mantra that we say together ever since I got my cancer diagnosis. It is not original ... I stole it from my favorite movie, Why I Wore Lipstick To My Mastectomy. In the midst of my sobbing, I began saying my mantra to Blake and it helped ... We are the sky and nothing can touch us ... We are the sky and we will remain unchanged. I was losing my hair, but I am having "Blake" and I have Rigo. I have a wonderful life. I am not going to have hair, but I have so much. And over the years, with "Blake," I am going to be blessed with much more, including my hair returning.

I settled down. It took awhile, but I settled. Dear Deborah finished cutting and hugged me some more. She turned me around after I gave her the okay and I looked in the mirror. It was weird ... every part of this experience was surreal and I do not think there is anything I can say to describe the way I felt when I saw myself for the first time. I do distinctly remember thinking I look like my brothers. Weird, I told you. I touched it. My scalp was very sensitive and tingled. It had been tingling for a few days because of the chemo and it continued to tingle. There is no tingling now, but it is still pretty sensitive.

Deborah wouldn't let us pay her. She and her adorable receptionist walked Rigo and I out and wished us the best. I told her I will see her again, for my first style ... and I will! She was an angel. I hated every part of that afternoon, March 24, 2007 at 5:00 p.m., but I couldn't have hoped for a better experience with better people. I ached for awhile, I mean, for a few days. I didn't call anyone to tell them "today was the day." Dad and Rigo didn't go call anyone. I didn't even tell my mom until the next day. I was just too drained. It was hard. It is hard. But I am okay and settled. I will never forget that day. Saturday, March 24, 2007 at 5:00 p.m. ... that was the day.

"The Day"

2007-04-01T04:02:00.000-07:00

It was Saturday, March 24, 2007, right at 5:00 p.m. I will never forget this day. Neither will Rigo or my dad. It is one of those "cancer milestones" that will be seared into my memory for the rest of my life. I know one day, this day won't be as significant as it is now. I will be too busy attending opening day of our baby's little league season sooner than later, but for the time being, this is a day that I will not soon forget. In a way, it is a day that I will forever cherish. Again, my husband Rigo and I were brought closer from sharing this experience. It is an experience a wife, a woman, never hopes or imagines on sharing with her husband, her best friend, her partner. But there is no denying that we shared this moment ... on Saturday, March 24, 2007 at 5:00 p.m.

Words cannot describe the bitter sweetness to the moment. My heart literally broke into a thousand pieces while my spirit and strength was battling to breakthrough and get me through the moment. I felt devastated, but I also felt more complete. Not complete as a woman, as a wife, as a 27 year old young thing, but I felt complete in my treatment process. I felt more complete as a survivor of cancer rather than a victim to cancer. I felt more complete that my treatments were working. I felt more complete that this stage is finally going to be past me and I have bigger and better things to look forward too. But oh how my heart ached. And my dear sweet Rigo's ached too. My dad later told me he had never seen Rigo's eyes look so hurt. I have ... on Valentine's Day ... yet another "cancer milestone," that was the day we learned of my diagnosis. But on March 24th, the hurt was fresh ... another open wound to both of us.

On March 24, 2007, I had a wonderful day. I was able to attend Jamie and Jeff's baby shower for their first born, and afterwards, Rigo and I spent some time visiting with Jamie and Jeff and her family. Rigo and I headed home, picked up Pops, and got a sandwich to eat. It was a beautiful day. I was feeling good. It had been a good day. Since I was going to the shower, I had actually taken some time to squeeze my now existent belly into a dress and slab some make-up on. But in the morning, while I was dressing, there was no avoiding the apple-sized bald spot on my forehead. I had other bald spots too I noticed. One in the back of my head and the sides of my head. There was absolutely no hope for the comb-over. So, to make my outfit complete, I donned a huge black straw hat to wear with my too-short of a dress and 2 1/2 inch wedges. Let's just say there was no hope for me blending on this day. And perhaps that is exactly what it took. A day that blending would not be acceptable.

Since I had gone that far with the outfit for the day (coupled with my previous post of the difficulties of managing a head full of hair loss), I felt a strong sensation that "today was the day." Rigo and my dad were with me and I thought it was important "the men in my life" were there because I knew I'd need some takin' care of. Rigo and I have shared so much of our lives together being high school sweethearts that there was no way I wanted him to not be there. He has been there for everything ... the good and the bad, and this wasn't going to be any different. I tried to give him an out, but there was no question in his mind that he was going to carry me through this if he had too.

I made up my mind ... now I just had to act on it ... quick, before I changed my mind. I wanted to get my head shaved at a salon. Rigo and I don't have clippers at our house and I didn't really want to do it at home. I was afraid that in some weird way I might not look at our home the same if I had such a traumatic experience like shaving my entire head at our home. I didn't have an appointment anywhere because for me, shaving my head was not going to be a planned venture. So here we are ... I had the sense of urgency to get this over with ... I had my support team with me ... I was workin' the outfit ... but I needed to find a decent salon (no offense, Supercuts was not gonna cut it ... hehehe) ... at 5:00 on a Saturday. If I didn't find one in a matter on minutes, I was going to have to wait until Tuesday since most salons are closed on Sundays and Mondays and then Rigo wouldn't be able to be my date with work and baseball. A moment of panic ...

We were in the neighborhood and I drove over to Privado Day Spa and Salon here in Fresno not even knowing if it was open or not still. I ran in as Dad and Rigo waited in the parking lot and asked if they could squeeze me in for a quick cut. They were open, so that was a good start. I was wearing this huge bonnet looking thing on my head, so the receptionist (adorable little male, yes, little) knew I was in some sort of hair dilemma. I clarified to him exactly why I was there to emphasize two points ... 1) it should be quick and 2) the stylist should know what she is getting into and feel okay with it. I mean, what a way to end a full day's work. Honey, I'm home. Just wrapped up shaving a 27 year old pregnant woman's head because she has cancer. I didn't want to ruin her Saturday night if she wasn't up to it for any reason.

Without hesitation, the receptionist's eyes filled with compassion and said that if none of the stylists could fit me in, he'd be happy to do it for me. Another good sign ... at least I was getting the adorable tiny man to shave my head, even if he has never held a pair of clippers before. Within a minute, I had a stylist. I ran out to gather the troops, but only Rigo ended up coming with me. It was comforting to know if I needed my dad, he was just waiting in the car, but this was a battle for Rigo and I.

I met one of my angels that day. Her name is Deborah and she is a young, very young, stylist at Privado who worked on Saturday, March 24, 2007 at 5:00 p.m. Deborah took me and Rigo to her station and asked me if I had any hair under my gigantic head piece of a hat. I told her I had some, but with huge missing patches ... and then, for the first time, I took my hat off to someone other than my husband or mom and dad. Starring into the mirror, I saw myself, for the last time, with hair ... sort of. Deborah comforted me and told me she has done this before, for her 20-something friend who was also going through chemo. What is wrong ... why are we all getting cancer ... ugh! Why does Deborah have to keep shaving young women's heads??? She took the clippers in her hand and I cringed ... literally, and asked her to wait. I wasn't ready. Not immediately ready.

I have had the same haircut and style since I was a senior in high school. That has been 10 years. My hair was about 2 inches below my shoulder and has been that way or longer my entire life. I wasn't ready for clippers, even though a huge chunk of hair was missing from the top of my head. Deborah waited and asked me what I'd like her to do. I asked her if we could do the cut incrementally, after all, I've never seen myself with a bob haircut. No problem. Here, it is 5 p.m. on a Saturday, and she graciously slowed down the process for me. I mean, Deborah did not rush me one bit. She could have easily acted troubled, delayed or irritated at me for being a pain in the neck, but instead, she smiled and began cutting my hair into quite a bob.

The setting was perfect. Somehow, it fit into exactly what I had imagined as I prepared myself for what felt like a life-changing experience. Privado is a new spa in town. With that said, it is beautiful. There was even a chair for Rigo to sit with me at the station and there was a water station with Kleenex right next to Deborah's station ... brilliant. 5:00 p.m. on a Saturday, there was not another client to be found. The salon was empty. In fact, there were only like two employees besides Deborah still there. Everyone else had gone home for the day. It was perfect. Just what I had hoped for. A decent salon where I'd feel well-taken care of without having to parade around in front of tons of other women getting their hair all dolled up. The setting was so perfect that as soon as the cutting began, Alanis Morrisette (sp) was playing. Really, would anyone disagree that the setting was perfect ... hello, Alanis Morrisette!

Cycle # 2 (Part B): The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

2007-03-23T09:51:00.000-07:00

All of the books and websites, fellow survivors all say their biggest piece of advice is to shave it all themselves early on. It becomes less burdensome. The mess the hair loss causes is ridiculous. The emotional turmoil of seeing clumps of your own beautifully healthy hair fall out is difficult. But I wasn't ready ... yet. I am so blessed to have such a great support network. I know my hair will grow back. I know my hair does not make me who I am. I am not even that into my hair ... I don't even own hairspray. But I am not ready to take clippers to my head and part with it. I can't explain what I am waiting for to "be ready." I wake up every morning, and see dear Rigo trying to collect the hair from my pillow before I have to see it. I prepare him each and every morning that "today might be the day." It might be the day I get just frustrated enough to walk into a salon and off with the hair. It might be the day I get just sad enough to take my own scissors to my head and part with the pain my own beautiful hair is causing. It might be the day I decide to take control of the chemo and walk into the salon with my head carried high and share with others that cancer happens to young woman, but we will be okay ... off with the hair. I know, today might be the day. But the end of the day has yet to come. Rigo has been forewarned. Today might be the day. For now, I have become friends with my scarves, which serve me like a security blanket does a little baby. For now, the day goes on and it's ending is unwritten in my book. The hair story continues ...

Yesterday, my parents, Rigo and I went to Stanford for a second opinion. We spent five hours there, most of it waiting time. But the visit was well worth the wait. I met with Dr. Robert Carlson, doctor, researcher and professor. Dr. Carlson is on the conservative end of the spectrum when it comes to treatments. All of his research focuses on breast conservation. Dr. Carlson reviewed all of my medical records and examined me. He was confident that I am on the right course of treatment given my circumstances (pregnant, type of cancer and age). Dr. C said that pregnancy and cancer is not rare, but not common. He sees roughly sees 6 pregnant patients a year. The baby will be fine. He thoroughly explained to Rigo and I the effects of each drug I am taking on the baby. He explained the available research re pregnant patients and concurred that I am on the best available treatment for myself and the baby. Dr. C explained that because my cancer is not hormone positive, the pregnancy did not cause my cancer.

Dr. Carlson was a pleasure to meet with. His bedside manner was exceptional. His attitude was hopeful, comforting and empathetic. He addressed each concern Rigo and I had. Ultimately, he said that I am on the right track and to continue treatment. We were pleased to hear that. On another note, he left us with many unanswered questions ... just as we had when we arrived. However, he explained different scenarios to us and explained how he'd like to see us proceed. The prognosis was radical ... and frightening. But in typical Jamie-style, I rather have answers than deal with unknowns and Dr. C presented us with a pretty certain hypothetical.

Given my circumstances (pregnant, type of cancer, age and family history on my father's lineage), Dr. C said he is 100 percent certain I have a genetic mutation which caused my cancer. It's an answer. As scary as the truth is, there are so many survivors that must live forever and ever with not knowing. I am thankful I can offer some sort of logical explanation to myself as to why I have to go through this, why my husband has to suffer with me and why my son will have to deal with this one day. I know. That must be the lawyer in me ... my need for answers.

Okay, genetic mutation. Dr. C believes I am BRAC-1 positive, but there may be other mutations I have instead of BRAC-1 which is causing the cancer. He recommends undergoing genetic testing and genetic counseling. This is a personal decision. Rigo and I must evaluate and decide what we want to do. Dr. C said that knowing the answer to what mutation I have (if any) will likely influence further courses of treatment I take. For instance, if I learn I am BRAC-1 positive, a genetic mutation which causes breast cancer, ovarian cancer, pancreatic cancer, prostate cancer, and other cancers, I have a higher chance of a recurrence of breast cancer post-5 years. Ugh, the thought of dealing with this while having a little guy around the house just exhausts me ... I am ready for this fight, but I don't want the fight to go on forever. I need there to be an end ... and I intend that end to be on my terms.

Okay, so higher chance of recurrence. Okay. So, Dr. C, the King of Breast Conservation, indicated that if I am BRAC-1 positive, I may opt for a mastectomy, and in my case (age, type of cancer, family history), I may opt for a bilateral mastectomy. Okay. I was ready for that. I mean, you don't get a breast cancer diagnosis and not consider having a mastectomy. But, this is the first time a doctor really told me that in my circumstance, I should consider it. Okay.

An extreme recommendation Dr. C had for us, one which I had not even considered, but do appreciate his honesty and pragmatic approach, was that if I am BRAC-1 positive, I need to consider having my ovaries removed ... okay ... and I may want this done during our delivery of our baby. The surgical process would be less invasive if I can do it simultaneously. Okay. Ouch. Gosh. Ahhh. Okay. We're okay.

So, that was it. The jist of my appointment ... treatment is going great. Continue on my course of treatment. Be hopeful that I am going to have a healthy, strong baby and quash this cancer. And get genetic tested immediately. Those results will give me answers to many of my unknowns. Those results will open the door to many difficult decisions. Some which Rigo and I may make which are not medically sound, but morally sound. We don't know what we will decide. We have a lot to decide. We have decided to go through with the testing. We want to know where I stand. This will also provide invaluable, but terribly difficult information for my family to wrangle with ... my father and brothers, their children and my child. Ah, but that is the beautiful blessing in all this, my child. I am 27 years old, I have cancer, I am nearly bald and was told yesterday without a doubt I have a genetic mutation that should be treated by removing both breasts and my ovaries. I cannot have anymore children, naturally. We thank God every morning and every night for our blessing. I can live without breasts, with my womanhood being surgically removed at a mere 27 years old because I have a precious baby boy growing inside me right now. And that is such a dear blessing. Today is a good day. We, Rigo and I, we have a good life. And we are hopeful. We are not sure what the future holds, but we are hopeful that it holds many long days together on our front porch in our rockers ... with some sweet tea!

To make my week complete, I have to mention how touched Rigo and I were by a group of fine young men. Our dear friends, Jeff and Jamie Prieto, have been with us from the first day of this journey. They are two people who Rigo and I turn to for a number of things, and they are always there. Well, they went and ordered dozens of pink breast cancer bracelets for Jeff and Rigo's Clovis East Baseball Team to wear. People, these are high school boys. Varsity athletes. I mean, talk about a trying (but amazingly fun) time in a person's life ... high school. Jeff apparently handed out the bracelets (which my family, friends and I have been wearing since day 1 of diagnosis) to all the players last Saturday at practice. Apparently, at the beginning of practice. Noone said anything to Rigo about the bracelets. Not Jeff and not any of the players. The boys had a long practice that morning and Rigo worked side by side with them all morning. He said the kids even did their 2 mile run after practice and he noticed nothing different. I mean, Rigo had baseball on his mind. Well, at the end of practice, during the team meeting (or whatever they call that chat thing they do), Rigo said he saw a pink bracelet on a kid. Then another kid he noticed. And another. The entire team was wearing pink breast cancer bracelets. He said that they must have had them on the entire practice, but he didn't notice. "What did you say to them Rigo," I asked. "Nothing," he answered. "What do you mean nothing," I pestered. I mean, you didn't even acknowledge that wonderful act of kindness and solidarity? "I couldn't," Rigo explained. Rigo explained to me that he couldn't say anything to the team because he got choked up. He explained to me that he would have started to cry if he said anything. Thank you Jeff, Jamie and each and every player and member of the Clovis East Baseball Team. You touched our hearts in a way that cannot be explained with justice. Rigo is my world and you are his world. To know that you support us during this long and difficult journey is truly an inspiration to us. Each time Rigo sees one of you on campus, walking along with a pink bracelet, he calls me and shares with me how proud he is of you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

It has been a good week. I feel good. And I am hopeful.

Cycle #2: The Battle's Definitely On ... Jamie 1, Cancer 0 (Sorta)

2007-03-23T09:12:00.000-07:00

I am being optimistic that I am in the lead, but heck ... is anyone going to really argue about it. The 1 point for me goes to my exam with Dr. P on Monday ... great news ... the chemo is working better than any of the doctors would have ever anticipated! My tumor has already shrunk dramatically! I could even tell myself ... the tumor is barely there. I told my doctor that if my tumor had been the size it is today, I wouldn't have even mentioned it to my doctors. It is barely there. Dr. P was also very pleased with the tumor's size. He said that he expected the tumor to shrink, but after 3 cycles of chemo, not one! He is very encouraged by my response to chemo (notably, my breast cancer is triple-negative and doesn't always respond to chemo that well), but he promised me that we will continue to treat the cancer aggressively! Needless to say, I say "one point for Jamie."

On the otherhand, this week had its' share of milestones ... big chemo week, big time hair loss and my second-opinion appointment at Stanford. Don't get me wrong people ... I have had a good week. Today is a good day. I am hopeful and I am determined to do what I have to to win this battle. There is not one ounce of me that doubts I will be cancer-free within time and live to see the day where Rigo and I are old, wrinkled and gray in our rocking chairs on our front porch. But, this has been quite a week.

Chemo was uneventful. My doctor's office opened up a second wing to its infusion room, so that means the nurses rotate now. Things went a little slower than usual, which is fine for me. I have become the Queen of Patience since my diagnosis, but Rigo definitely gets ancy with all the wait time. But I was disappointed my nurse, Sydnee, wasn't in my infusion room ... maybe next week she'll be back?!

I have ventured out with the general population and sit in the main area with the other patients. A woman in her mid-40's was getting her first chemo treatment ... my heart ached for her. I could see the fear in her eyes ... the fear of the unknown ... the fear of The Room ... the fear of what it is going to do to your body. She was with her mother and friends, so thankfully she had some support. An older woman in her 60's sat next to me. She was quiet for the most part, and alone. Later she explained that this is the fourth time she is getting chemo. The first three times she lost her hair, but this time she gets to keep it. She wished me well ... I wished her well.

As I was beginning my chemo, my not-so-sensitive (but very professional) doctor ran back into The Room to tell me a patient was there who was pregnant during her diagnosis. Did I want to meet her? Of course! So we met ... we shared stories ... very personal experiences were shared within moments of meeting each other ... we talked and we cried. This woman was the first woman I met in person, face to face, who was pregnant with cancer. She has been cancer free for 5 years and her miracle daughter is 5 years old! Thank you doctor for putting us in touch.

I felt fine from chemo. Naps and more naps is pretty much how the week went. My dad is here in Fresno helping keep down the fort. Rigo runs home during his lunch break and right after baseball to make sure I am okay ... and I am ... I am feeling fine. Tired, I feel tired. But who doesn't?

Ah, the blessings of chemo ... it works. That's the truth ... my tumor is shrinking by the day! But with the good, there is the bad. My skin is terribly dry and I am getting dry patches ... on my face ... yuck. My nail beds are turning dark and I have mouth sores. And then there is the hair ... or should I say, there goes the hair. It is going ... everywhere. Disclaimer: I am not complaining ... I am happy, so very happy ... the chemo is working!!! I can see it in many different forms. But this is my blog and many of you are far away and I think sharing the bad with the good is just as critical to knowing what I am going through. But I am not complaining ... I am happy and hopeful!

It started last Friday, my 18th day from my first treatment, at least that I noticed. My hair was thinning, dramatically. As I would brush my hair, clumps of 25 hairs would be in the brush, from root to end, in one beautiful clump actually. As I would be tossing my hair over my shoulder, from one side to the other (I am my mother's daughter), I would feel a tingle sensation in my scalp. Running errands, if my purse strap would collect some hair on my shoulder and was pulled inadvertently, it was a for sure loss. I was becoming much more aware of any and all contact with my hair. I was not ready to shave my head myself and wanted to preserve my hair as long as possible, so I was limiting all contact with my hair. My poor dad goes in for a hug and kiss and I have to ask him to back away from all contact with my hair ... he is very understanding. And dear Rigo, I literally did NOT brush my hair from Monday through Thursday of this week. I don't use any hair product like hair spray or anything, so it wasn't that big of a deal. But to me, this was conservation at it's best. The less contact there was, the less loss there'd be. Crazy, I know, but Rigo and my dad gave me the support to "do what I feel most comfortable with."

Week Three to Cycle # 1 (Part C)

2007-03-23T08:44:00.000-07:00

Last week was my off-week. I did not undergo any treatment last week and boy, did it feel good or what? My mom and dad gave me the blessing to have an unsupervised week since it was an off-week. So, with that said ... it was on ... the mall and me!

Yes, I had a terrific week last week. I felt strong and healthy. My hair was intact, so to the rest of the world, I was strong and healthy. I had an exam with Dr. P, my oncologist, on Monday and he indicated my WBC was pretty low last Monday, 2,000, but that he expected it to climb throughout the week since I wasn't having treatment. Dr. P also mentioned that I am very anemic right now due to the chemo, but that with the baby, he wasn't prepared to treat the anemia ... just take naps if I need too, which is A-ok with me ... especially with doctor's orders. Other than that, I had a clean bill of health to hit the malls!

With the rest of the world diligently working the typical M-F schedule, I tried to fill my time without an emphasis on cancer. It worked ... Rigo and I found the furniture and bedding for the baby's room! I had a blast doing that one ... the furniture will be here in 10 weeks. Most people who find out I already ordered the furniture flip out and ask why I am rushing it and just to wait to my baby shower. I understand their concern and intended on not overdoing it with the baby to early ... but that was before cancer people. A dear friend of mine, she was also pregnant during her cancer treatments. She told me that she had many days that she gained comfort and strength by simply sitting in her baby's nursery and focusing on the baby's arrival rather than dreading over the ill-effects of treatment and the havoc the treatment is causing to my body, my mind and my family. So take it from someone who has traveled the same bumpy road as me (as is doing great now), I am getting that room set up! : ) That was a good day ... and we have a good life. I am so blessed to be putting together a baby's nursery. I do realize what a true blessing it is to be able to prepare for a baby, my own baby, and I will cherish every part of the process.

And for all the nay-sayers ... I promise not to shop for the baby anymore ... now I just focus on shopping for all the other new arrivals that are blessing our lives this year ... my two nieces that will be born in June and little Prieto and little Shannon, the little "Official Clovis East Baseball Team" (three of the four coaches for CE Baseball, Rigo's team, are having their first baby this spring/summer ... and we are all having boys).

The week continued to bring good days to me, filled with shopping and good company. I had lunch dates with dear friends that I hadn't seen for a few weeks and Dana had a wonderful BBQ for us, which I feasted! That is one area that I am doing just fine with ... my appetite. I think Rigo is a little floored with how much damage I can do, but eh, whatever! : ) Hot dogs are my weakness, but any and everything that is 51 percent junk, I LOVE ... ice cream, potato chips, burgers, fries ... and the list goes on. I double-check with the doctor at each visit if it is okay to put all this junk into my body, especially at such a sensitive time, but I haven't been cut off so far. (I have been told that my diet will take a forever change once I deliver, a strict low-fat diet which is helpful to staying cancer-free, but I am good for now ... baby benefit.)

The week was topped off with a relaxing day visit to Yosemite ... well, relaxing for me and Tiki, Rigo drove the entire time. We took our dog and my nephew's Flat Stanley from Atlanta to the mountains for the day in hopes of capturing some good quality time together and nice "last time with hair for the time being" pics. We got both ... I had a tremendously wonderful visit with Rigo and Tiki and the pics came out just right! I couldn't have hoped for a better ending to such a carefree week! I feel good and had some wonderful visits with my loved ones.

Again, thank you for all the emails and calls during the week. I love getting the mail everyday and receiving beautiful notes and tokens from loved ones ... some of you who I haven't seen in years, but it is comforting to know we are in your prayers and thoughts ... thank you so very much!

Week Two (Part B)

2007-03-09T04:27:00.000-08:00

Monday was my worst day this week. I left chemo and had lunch (alfredo is a stay-away post-chemo for now on) and had to run home immediately to pop some anti-nausea meds and climb into bed. I was on the verge of getting sick, but the meds are fantastic and I quickly fell asleep waking up several hours later. Rigo, his mom and his stepdad took me to chemo. Rigo left for baseball after making sure I was tucked in and his mom and stepdad knew how to work our remote controls. Tiki, my baby girl (my dog) is such a good sport and slept with me all afternoon. Linda and Mike spent the day with me making sure I was okay before my mom got to town to take over. Thanks Linda and Mike. Rigo and I appreciate your help and the lasagna.

My mom planned on covering this week. My dear, dear parents are doing so much to help Rigo and I. The are helping keep my house in order, dog in line and me in good spirits. My mom and her fantastic job arranged for her to spend the week with me. Most of the week, I have been okay, but the main pest are these headaches and migraines I have been getting. I am fine with the baby, the cancer and the chemo ... it's just these dang headaches. They keep me up at night, I wake up with them and I'll get them in the middle of the day. The linger around and never seem to go away ... ugh! Needless to say, Mom couldn't have come in any more handy this week. In my "I still feel like I am 14 years old" kind of way, I love having my mom and dad around. Not so sure if Rigo feels the same, but he is definitely a good sport! : ) Not to mention, my mom was here the day Rigo and I found out we were having a baby boy and she and I spent the day scouring baby stores for the rest of the day! That was just the best ... I loved every second of yesterday! Especially the part when we came home and something possessed my mom to bake 9 dozens of chocolate chip cookies for us ... I had no idea what was going on! A) My mom does not cook or bake. I am her daughter and I can proudly say, I also do not cook or bake. And B) My mom does not cook or bake. Her rationale was that she can't make it into town for two weeks and wanted to make sure I had enough of my favorite cookies. Hilarious ... 9 dozen people ... really, 9 dozen. I love you Mom and thank you for this week. (And Dad, we love you too. We can't wait to have you back shortly.)

In connection with finding out we are having a boy, Rigo and I met with a high-risk pregnancy doctor yesterday. That appointment was what attributed to my "best day yet." This doctor was amazing ... sensititve, real, interested and most of all, experienced with my type of situation. I will be visiting her every two weeks to get progess reports of baby. This in no way is necessary ... baby is doing great. I requested more frequent consultations with her to ease my own concerns following chemo treatments. Although not necessary, she said she completely understood what the psychological effects of having cancer and being pregnant are and would be happy to see me weekly so be it. Love her ... Angel!

I have an appointment on Monday with my oncologist for an exam and to check by WBC levels. I was fine this week. The blood work did show the chemo has made me anemic, but whatev's ... that it like a hang-nail at this point. Otherwise, I am open for lunch next week people! : )

Cycle number two begins on March 19th ... ugh. On March 12th, it will be one month since I found my lump. If any of you haven't already done so, you can use that day, Monday, the 12th to do your own Self-Breast Exam. It truly is the best tool to dectection ladies.

Rigo and I are going to Stanford on March 22nd to meet with a breast cancer specialist/researcher and we will see from there where that appointment takes us. In the meantime, I will be arranging an appointment for my genetic testing to get nail this breast cancer thing down. If anything, I think the genetic testing will be a pretty interesting part of this whole ordeal.

Dearest family and friends, I am sure I will say this many times over the next year, but thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your thoughts, prayers, the messages, calls, flowers and support. Rigo, baby and I enjoy hearing from you all and we cannot tell you how much the thoughts and prayers mean to us. We have only just begun this journey and would appreciate your thoughts and prayers throughout the course of my treatment and baby's journey. We are okay. I have a wonderful life and I have no intention of it being anything less. Please do not worry or feel any sadness for us. We are okay, truly okay.

And we are having a baby boy! Life is good.

Week Two (Part A): Another Dose of Chemo ... And "It's A Boy!" ...

2007-03-09T03:35:00.001-08:00

Needless to say, getting chemo over the last two Monday's is now just a vague memory! Yes, Rigo and I just found out yesterday that our little blessing of a baby BOY is baking just fine (a healthy 7 oz. with a strong 155 beats per minute heart rate)! Hehehehehe ... that is the only emotion we shared together all day yesterday. I knew going into the pregnancy I was going to find out the sex, but once I knew I had cancer, I NEEDED to know what I was having. The stress of this ordeal (even though I am every bit confident baby and I will prevail over this nasty disease) just picks at you ... everyday, all day. When you wake up ... you remember, I have cancer, during my daily walks ... you remember, I have cancer, showers ... oh, you really remember you have cancer, tv ... I can barely watch (aside from my daily dose of CNN) because I really remember I have cancer, and trying to sleep at night, it's terrible ... you remember, I have cancer. (Hence, the 4am blog ... maybe I can start being productive during this hour.)

I have cancer, sure ... but cancer does not have my BABY BOY and me! Today was the first day that I didn't think about cancer. Today was the first day I spent the day confident that our baby boy is a strong baby who can handle chemo like a champ! I loved today ... each second of today ... and that makes me look forward to tomorrow and each and day after that ... most of all, I look forward to the day we can both hold our baby boy in our arms! Oh, today I am so very hopeful for tomorrow!

So, I gushed ... most of you know pretty well that I am an a-emotional type of woman. I made it through the movie Notebook and didn't bat an eyelash. I have a "handle" on my emotions and try not to let things get to me ... but this baby thing, ahhh ... I am going to just embrace it and run with it from here on out! It is like overnight I immediately became a member of two sisterhoods without every truly imagining the magnitude of either (I am gushing again) ... motherhood and my sisterhood of those that have traveled the journey of breast cancer before me. I am such a rookie when it comes to both sisterhoods, but I am so very proud to be a part of such strong, brave and courageous women ... mothers and survivors, and that small special group of survivors who were pregnant ... I am hopeful. (Done gushing.)

Monday was the second week of my first "cycle" of chemotherapy. During week one, I receive three drugs ... for those survivors and their families who are familiar with chemo, I am getting 5-FU, Adromyician and Cytoxin (among many, many anti-nausea drugs ... thank you doc). During week two of the cycle, I receive only one drug, 5-FU. During week three of the cycle (next week), I have a freebie week ... no chemo. So this Monday, I had 5-FU. Rigo and I had our exam with Dr. Perkins, which is always reassuring even if no new information is given to us. It is like our stragetic-planning meeting ... preparing for battle ... take care of any repositioning of the troops if we need to ... meeting of the minds (okay, I was just getting caught up).

Following the exam, I enter "The Room." The room where the chemotherapy is administered is so very intimidating ... it should be referred to as something found in the basement of a mob house or something?! Actually, The Room couldn't be anymore asthetically pleasing with their leather recliners, plasma tv's, complimentary snacks and coffee and, yes ... foot massages. It is just something about the number of people that have surrendered themselves to this type of grueling treatment on a regular basis ... the rookies like me have our hair still. But the majority of patients come donned in their hats or scarves. Granted the average age in The Room is well over 60 (and I know there is nothing wrong with that age ... take it from me, I look forward to being 60). That in of itself probably makes The Room more intimidating ... you know, that I don't "fit" in.

In a strange way, I was looking forward to seeing my nurse from last week, Sydnee. Sydnee is a young and vibrant woman who has been an oncology nurse for the last 5 years with Dr. Perkins. Her straight-to-the-point attitude is comforting in some way. I appreciate that we are near the same age, probably have the same interests, and I listen to hear advice with a close ear. She was right last week ... the fourth day was my most difficult. What else will she be right about? I do not have any reason to believe she has ever had cancer before, but by default, I can tell she is a survivor. Working with so many of us patients, remembering so many names and faces, having so many relationships, holding our hands and making us laugh as poison is dripping into us cannot be an easy task. But Sydnee does this gracefully and with ease. We will be friends. You know, you can just tell when you meet someone (Leslie). Well, she is one. She is a friend. (She doesn't know it yet and I am getting gushy again ... weird.) One among many that I am sure to meet along this journey.

The actual administering of the chemo was super short, only about 10 minutes because it was only 5-FU I was getting. I got a few bags of water to help wash the chemo through my veins and re-hydrate myself and finito. As Katie, a survivor and a friend, told me as I was going into this week, I was one cycle of chemo closer to the end! Here we come ... baby boy and I!

We Are Okay!

2007-02-28T15:57:00.000-08:00

I am not sure how to respond to being pregnant and having cancer. I am in search of information ... women who have been in the same or similar situation. It is hard to find, but I am finding them and they are out there. There is information ... not as much as there should be, but it is there if you look for it. And trust me, I am looking. I have already met some wonderful new people from this experience. My "support woman" Katie is my one-woman-resource who has two beautiful babies after being pregnant with cancer. My courageous cousin, Sonia, has always been an inspiration to me for her strength and bravery, and without fail, she is helping me tackle this a day at a time.

This blog thing is new to me ... I hope it will serve as a source to keep me connected with all of you. I am happy to share news on my treatment and our baby and think that this might be easier than mulling through emails and voicemails over the next few months. Don't get me wrong, I love all the calls and messages, but this is my way of sharing my story with you all. Thank you for listening.

We are okay. We love your prayers. Please keep them coming, but please do not worry. We will be fine and we will win this one. Today, our baby's heartbeat was 150 beats per minute! We are okay and life is good.

Hello Chemo ...

2007-02-28T15:46:00.000-08:00

On February 26th, this Monday, I began chemotherapy. So much information is being sent our way and so much of it goes right out the other end. My treatment plan changed ... and I would be surprised if it changed again down the road.

I am taking three drugs - FAC. I will have chemo for 5 1/2 months. My schedule is "on 2 weeks, off 1 week." So, I went this Monday, I will go next Monday, and get the third Monday off before starting the cycle all over. On 2, off 1. The doctor indicated I will lose all of my hair within 9 to 21 days, but most people lose their hair within 14 days. Oy vey. But my life is good. I remember. I see it ... I see the wonderful people that are in my life. I get messages all the time from angels I have met over the years sending prayers to Dear God for my baby and me. I have a wonderful husband, home and dog! My parents and brothers and in-laws are on my side and we are all fighting this battle together. I have a good life. I know I do.

Chemo lasted about 4 hours on Monday. It won't always be that long. It was okay. I mean ... I felt it ... the medicine in my veins. I was fine though ... really hot to be honest. I was burning up. I never know now if I am experiencing a pregnancy symptom or a cancer symptom ... I think the hotness was cancer. I have felt good Monday and Tuesday, but come 6pm, I am out like a light ... which is a blessing because sleep is hard to come by lately.

This morning I had my first bout with nausea, but it was nothing more than a hearty hangover. Life is good ... I remember. The doctor and nurses warned us that day 4 after chemo is the most difficult, so we here at the Ledezma home are all bearing down for tomorrow ... big chemo-release date! I have my knee pillow handy and ready.

How Does A Week Pass By Knowing You Are Pregnant With Cancer?

2007-02-28T15:10:00.000-08:00

By now, I had the answers I wanted. But now I had to get my life in order in a week before I started my chemo treatment? First, I took care of work ... they were great. I have only been with my employer for 5 months. I had no idea what to expect from them (or anyone for that matter), but as I have begun to see in the last two weeks, they were understanding, compassionate and immediately responsive to my concerns.

I felt a strange desire to share my situation with friends and family. (Hence, blog). Rigo and I tried so hard to keep the baby "hush-hush" until we were out of the woods. Then I get cancer and I wanted to tell the world. I had my girlfriends get together so I could tell them, I told my mock trial class, I told high school girlfriends by mass emails. I wanted to let everyone know ... Rigo says it makes me feel better to say it out loud! (I love him). I have to admit, in a way, this was my ceremonial good-bye for the time being. I know I will be fine and recover with a healthy baby at the end of all this, but I have seen cancer at its worst many times before. I know what I am about to face ... and that terrifies me. I am young, I am strong, I run, I think. All of this is going to change temporarily as I render myself to the power of so many drugs. And I don't know how I'll feel about being out and about over the next 6 months ... the only image running through my head is a bald head and big 'ol belly!

My friends and family were great. Overwhemling with support and compassion that I could not have ever imagined. There was just yet two little persons I wanted to say my "temporary good-byes" too ... my two nephews ... my angels, Devin, 8 years old, and Pace, 4 years old. The boys live in Altanta with my oldest brother and his wife, who is also expecting ... a baby girl in June! Finally, Auntie gets a niece! : ) As a little girl, pre-teens, I had the opportunity to see my loved ones endure cancer. I will never forget the pain the physical pain they endured. But it is those images that taught me to do self-breast exams and discover my own cancer. I am afraid my nephews, whom I love so very much, will forever carry images of the "chemo-Auntie" with them. I am okay with them learning about the effects of cancer and being proactive with their health. I am proud that maybe one day they will tell their wives or daughters to be vigilant with their health. And I know I will be fine in a year or two with a full head of hair and all my energy back. But to my boys, that is a lifetime away. I wanted one last bout of fun with my boys before I began this road to recovery.

My dad escorted me all the way from Fresno to Altanta just one day after my clip placement. We spent only a few brief days with the Hernandez Family in Canton, but those are days that I will cherish in my heart over the next few months of treatment. Thank you to my dad, brother and Shan for making those few days with the boys happen. That was exactly the "medicine" I needed to launch me into my treatment! I am ready to hit the ground running ...

The Road To Treatment ...

2007-02-28T14:50:00.000-08:00

Less than 12 hours after I received the diagnosis, my parents and I were in the waiting room of the oncologist armored with notepads and pens ... that was our battle gear. I needed information ... I thrived on it. I want to pronounce the names of the disease and the drugs correctly. I want to know the differences between option 1 versus option 2 for treatment. But most of all, I wanted to know if my baby was okay.

I never asked if I would survive. I don't need to ask if I'll survive. I know I will. I know I will be okay ... we will be okay. We have a good life, remember. I do need to know from all the doctors and experts and every person who has traveled this road before me, will my baby be okay?

Dr. Perkins, my oncologist, assured me that he can treat me to cure my cancer and deliver a healthy baby. Every pregnancy has its risks, but Dr. Perkins was and is pretty optimistic that both ends of curing the cancer and having a healthy baby can be achieved. That was all I needed to know ... music to our ears. Everything else, the details of my treatment, were all secondary.

Treatment would start in a week. The doctors needed time to get all of the pathology reports in, review and evaluate them and make some phone calls to specialists who handle pregnant women with cancer. Before treatment, metal clips would be placed around the tumor to track the size of the tumor during chemo. Dr. Perkins roughly measured my tumor to be about 3 centimeters during our first appointment. Before treatment, Dr. Perkins also wanted me to visit a fertility specialist in Stanford to harvest eggs for future babies. Hey doc, I'm pregnant ... no eggs to harvest! : ) Rigo and I are happy with our one and can't ask for anything more ... I thank God every day for our baby and am the happiest woman in the world with this one. Remember, we have a good life ... we do.

Initially, I was going to go through 3 months of chemo with two drugs (AC) and then have surgery, then deliver the baby and then radiation. I am 4 months pregnant now. Boy, this is going to be a busy year ... not feeling so hot year. Ugh. I mean, I couldn't be more eager to start treatment and get this cancer out of me, but I feared that once I started down this road, I knew there was absolutely no turning back.