Finally, cancer news fit for the rooftop!

Breaking news — and for the first time since I got cancer, it's GOOD news! I am BRCA negative!!!

This is a HUGE relief ... for the treatment options I'll consider, for my daughter, potentially for my nieces. It means that we aren't genetically predisposed to a significantly higher risk of breast and ovarian cancer. PHEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because my mom and I both had cancer, the current guidelines advise that Sylvia should start getting screened for breast cancer when she's about 10 years younger than I was when I was diagnosed — so, when she's 30 or 31. Because there isn't a significant family history of breast or ovarian cancer on my dad's side of the family, there's no reason she'll need to go through the BRCA genetic testing process, herself. In other potentially encouraging cancer news, the radiologist who reviewed the ultrasound of my right breast today said the one 5-millimeter area of concern he saw didn't look too suspicious to him. The other one hid from the ultrasound machine (little pisser). I might have to get an MRI-guided biopsy on that one, as well as the second one in the left breast, which is suspected to be a different kind of cancer (dutal carcinoma in situ), which apparently can only be viewed in an MRI. If the right breast lesion turns out to be benign, I'm not sure yet whether they'd biopsy the second one. At this very moment in time, I don't really care ... because, did I mention that I'M BRCA NEGATIVE!!! One "victory" at a time — not that I had anything to do with the slicing and dicing of my mom's and dad's genes 41 years ago. I might get the best night of sleep I've gotten in the month tonight. If I don't, I'll still wake up feeling like shouting my good news from the rooftop — then head off to my root canal with a great big smile on my face. And there you have it, your moment of Team Liz cancer zen for today. :-)

More areas of concern, more ultrasounds and lots of deep breaths

I wish I had some "phew!" news to share about last week's MRI. Instead, I'm bracing for another round of ultrasounds — this time to get images of a second "area of concern" near my known tumor, and two more in the other breast, which wasn't ultrasounded when this whole cancer thing started because nothing looked weird in my mammogram.

I may get these three new areas of concern biopsied right away. If the areas of concern don't show up in the ultrasound of my right breast, I may learn (another day in another hospital) how on earth a doctor can steer a long needle into the breast of a woman lying face down in an MRI machine to biopsy two half-centimeter spots. As my wise mother said through her tears when I shared this latest news news: "They're finding what they need to get out of you, Lizzie." Yes, they are. I'm grateful for every piece of data we gather before I make the critical decisions about my treatment. That's the positive side of my attitude about this Search for Cancer: Part II business. I won't lie — I'm also supremely disappointed that I have to deal with this. Thanks to Sean, all of you, a good cry every now and then, and steady doses of stand-up comedy I've been consuming on Netflix, Xfinity, Crackle, Amazon, etc. ... the positivity is still winning over the "OMG, can I wake up from this nightmare, already?" moments. As I wrote a friend today, when I'm feeling blue/pissed/scared, I think of everyone who's been sending me such steady streams of love and wishes for good health, and it lifts my down-in-the-dumps spirits — like the mental health equivalent of crowd surfing. I am taking lots (and lots and lots) of deep breaths these days, channeling wisdom about mindfulness that I've soaked up in the past year (turns out the advice that helps parents not have tantrums alongside their kids also helps you calm down in the face of a shitbird like cancer) ... and every step of the way remembering that I'm strong, I'm healthy, and I'm taking my time to figure out how best to conquer an evil son-of-a-bitch disease that does not and never will define me.

#CaringBridge #cancer

That stinkin' rule of threes

As many of you saw on Facebook, that third shoe I was waiting to drop dropped good and hard — except the shoe wasn't a shoe, it was my right pinky finger, and it didn't drop, I shut it in a car door during our camping getaway. Broke the tippy top of it and had to get stitches to reattach the nail bed, which ripped off from the bottom. Ow-WEE! I won't lie. I cried some seriously self-pitying tears before I got numbed up for my stitches and until my heavy-duty painkillers kicked in. Instead of kayaking in the summery sunshine at Deception Pass, we were back in a hospital dealing with a sorry situation — such a stupidly avoidable fluke of clutziness. Thank goodness for Sean. Amazing friend, husband and daddy that he is, he kept us all focused on one step after another to get me taken care of. The kids were troupers throughout the whole thing, huddling to watch one of their silly TV shows on a Kindle. Sure, they griped about what a bummer it was that we didn't get to kayak and they didn't get to go swimming and, "Wow, this camping trip isn't as fun as we thought it would be." But a) who could blame them? and b) we still got a few good campfires and some awesome s'mores out of the experience. Of course, like a cosmic middle finger — make that two — it rained later that night. Hard. Not a welcome thing for this family of amateur campers. We learned mid-downpour that the rain fly on the kids' tent was no longer waterproof. We all piled into one tent and made it through the night without getting soaked. We packed up as quickly as we could the next morning, enjoyed a lovely, little hike to a bluff overlooking Bowman Bay, booked it home ... just in time to provide what little comfort we could to our next door neighbors, who had been burglarized the night before. Our neighbor chased one of the burglars out of the house. Otherwise, who knows? We might have come home to some missing computers, TVs, house/car keys, our peace of mind, etc. as well. Good golly, when it rains, it pours. And sometimes it feels like more than any family should be forced to put up with. But through it all, friends and family near and far have been there for us (as they have been for our neighbors), sending us chin-up vibes and reminders that we're strong and loved and hopefully done with all this bad juju, already! Now for some cancer updates ...

• I've started the genetics testing process and should find out in about two weeks if I'm a BRCA carrier, putting me at a higher lifetime risk for cancer.

• I get an MRI on Thursday (6/25) and will discuss the results with my surgeon the following day.

• My surgeon's office got the ball rolling for the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance second opinion process today, which should allow me to get my second opinion appointment(s) scheduled soon.

• We meet with my oncologist next Tuesday (6/30) to get some insights, among other things, about how best to treat my cancerous lymph node -- either by removing it along with 10 or so others or zapping it with radiation and letting chemo take care of it.

• I get my root canal the following day (planning to pass the hour listening to a Nerdist podcast interview of Allison Janney, unless anyone has any better recommendations).

• I've tentatively scheduled my surgery (a lumpectomy) for late July — though the date and type of surgery may change, depending on the results of the MRI and genetics testing.

Thanks to all of you who have so generously offered to help us any way you can. With help from a few dear friends who have stepped up to coordinate meals and other stuff, I'm going to start posting "tasks" on my CaringBridge Planner. We've signed up for Munchery — don't need meals yet, but when we do, that's an option for out-of-town Team Liz members who can't deliver us food in person. Stay tuned for more as we figure out how/when to take y'all up on kind offers for things like helping us with our mountains of laundry. I'm sure once I'm in treatment, we'll need help moving those mountains and seeing how much elbow grease it takes to attack five years of we-have-little-kids-we-don't-have-time-to-clean grub. Until my next update ...

#CaringBridge #cancer