A Note From the Plane to Mexico

Crack o' dawn.

I was a little nervous about going through airport security with my expanders as they have metal in them. I told the agent who was checking our boarding passes and passports. Here's how the conversation went (these conversations went all the way to 11 and not in a good way):

Me: I have an implantable device that may set off the metal detector. This is my first time going through airport security since I got it. Anything special I need to do?

TSA agent: Is it like a metal hip or something?

Me: Umm... no.

TSA: A pacemaker?

Me: No. It's a tissue expander.

TSA: Oh, you can just go through the body scanner.

Me: I'd rather not. I'll just take my chances see what happens when I go through the metal detector. [That's right. The Gen X in me makes me inherently leary of, well, pretty much everything. Especially things that see through your insides. That can't be good for you. While we were waiting in the security line, Lark asked if they were safe. Tom told here they were except for the one in a thousand people they vaporize for population control.]

Of course I still feel the need to make sure they know that I might set off the metal detector, so I tell the guys ushering people through the metal detectors that I have an implantable device that may set off the metal detector.

TSA Agent 1: Oh, like a pace maker?

Me: No.

TSA Agent 2: Like a knee? [I shake my head.] Just go through the body scanner.

Me: Ummm...I'd rather not. I'll just try the metal detector and see what happens.

I walk through and nothing. Phew. No full cavity body search for me.

Tom suggested that I should have just told them I have a bionic vagina.

Next time.

Now we're in flight and there's yet another person who thinks they're so special that they can let their kid play games on the iPad with the volume on 11 (and not in a good way). That or they're just clueless. Either way I'm secretly wishing that they'd be the one in a thousand.

Late breaking news: I just told the guy that his kid's device is interfering with my bionic vagina. Problem solved.

New Beginnings | New Oncologist | Mexico...ahhh

Lark holding a bird egg we found on the ground on Cape Cod in 2008.

New Beginnings

Alice and I went sledding yesterday on the first day of spring.  It was a gorgeous, glittery snow day with clear, deep blue skies. We took Dublin with us so she could chase us down the hill, barking the whole way, trying to slow us down.  Really, I can't think of a better way to spend a snow day. 

When I was diagnosed with cancer this winter, I thought I was going to miss the rest of the sledding season.  I'm glad I got at least one more in and that I was able to pull Alice around without any twinges of pain.  Wow - just six weeks post-surgery.  It's amazing what our bodies are capable of.  I truly believe all of the prayers, good thoughts and deeds directed our way helped me heal quickly and kept my dauber up, which also aids in healing the body, mind and spirit.  

Alice refusing to leave Jesus.

It's also no accident that this chapter of my healing is happening at this time of renewal and new life- Spring and Easter.  It's also no accident that Alice has an deep and sincere interest in Easter story. She and I went to the Minneapolis Institute of Art the other week and were looking at statues.  We got to a room with a collection of ecclesiastic art, including a crucifix.  Alice wanted to know the story of the cross and the man on it.  When I wanted to push on to look at other things, she insisted that we stay in the room.  It was really interesting.  When we got home, she wanted to read about, "Jesus on the cross in the Bible Book."  That was two weeks ago.  Since then, she found a book at the library about Easter story.  Everyday she asks to hear about Jesus and asks crazy-good questions like, "Why did Pontious Pilate not like Jesus?" and "Why did he have to die?"   

We haven't been going to church much at all since Alice was born (read: five times tops), so it's striking to me that she appears to have an innate faith.  Lark came to the realization recently that if she had been born into another family that she might be a different religion.  True, true. She further pontificated that there must not be one, true religion.  Very true as well.  It's going to be interesting to watch our girls go through their exploration of faith and see where they land. 

Speaking of Easter, I highly recommend going to Good Friday Mass, sometimes also called the Veneration of the Cross.  In a church I used to go to, they would put a huge cross on the floor and everyone would take turns going up to the cross and placing their hand on it along with offering up their prayers.  It's a powerful ceremony that's brought me to full on tears (if you can't cry at church, where can you cry). It's mind blowing and virtually unfathomable that someone died so that we could be saved.  It's a great opportunity to leave give over whatever is weighing on you to a higher power. 

Back to me because this is my blog after all.  Alice's interest in Jesus and Lark's growing faith is stirring my interest in exploring the history.  I love learning about religions - all faiths - and how they shape our world. I've always wanted to take more theology classes to go deeper into the history.  Maybe now's the time.

Here's to being able to start anew each and everyday and pursue whatever ignites your passions.  

New Oncologist

Tom and I went to the new oncologist on Tuesday and the difference between this oncologist and the first one we say was night and day.  It started with a kind receptionist who welcomed me to the office and introduced the other receptionists.  The nurses were equally kind and responsive.  Dr. Bower's reviewed my history with us with the stated objective of not only educating us, but also arming us with proper information so that we can educate others - I love that.  She also said that she wants us to live our lives and not worry about cancer.  She told us to imagine that there's a cancer box up on her shelf that she takes down when we arrive.  All of our questions, fears, etc. go into the box.  And if we have questions that arise in between visits, we can always call her, but we don't need to open the box on our own.  Finally, she said that she wants us to start to view cancer and something that's happened, not something that defines me.  I'm already there. 

This woman speaks my language!

What does this mean for my ongoing care?  My Oncotype DX test results came back (the test that determines if someone would benefit from chemotherapy) and I'm in the clear!  No chemo for me.  I'm truly relieved that chemo is not part of this journey.  So what is?  Here's a quick summary: 

• First, let's pause and remember that I'm cancer free.  Hooray!  Having breast cancer makes one more susceptible to getting cancer again.  Breast cancer likes to go to lungs and bones, so I will go on preventative therapy and monitoring.  
• The preventative therapy is the hormone therapy I've mentioned in the past - Tamoxifin.  I'll take that for 10-yrs.  Dr. Bower's did a wonderful job of explaining how it works and what the potential side effects will be.  She also assured me that she has a "bag of tricks" to deal with the side effects.
• She will monitor my blood, bones and lungs on an ongoing basis to make sure we catch cancer early if it makes an appearance elsewhere.  I'll have blood work done quarterly and bone scans and chest x-rays yearly yearly.  
• I'll also do some genetic testing and counseling to see if there's any genetic markers that "pop," making me a candidate for some other treatments.  
• And finally, I'll continue with my reconstruction, which is going great!  Honestly, if you look at me in clothes, you'd have no idea that anything's happened. My 7-year old niece, Maxine, stated the other day during prayers that she's, "grateful that Sasa [her name for me] is growing new breasts."  Me too, Maxine.  Me too!!!

Mexico...ahhh

We planned a spring break trip to Mexico before all of this rigmarole happened.  We were on the fence if we should spend the money given my sudden lack of income.  I also wanted to make sure I felt good and was able to swim.  What a bummer it would be to be at the ocean and not be able to jump in.  I'm feeling great and with the adage in mind that you can't take it [money] with you, we're going!  For those who've been asking, we leave next Thursday, March 28th for 8 days.  (Note to robbers:  Someone will be at our house taking care of our ferocious dog. And we have an alarm system on our house.  And you will go to hell if you rob someone who's recovering from Cancer.  And I will hunt you down...this is getting weird.)

We'll be just outside of Cancun at an all-inclusive resort that we stayed at last year. I have my new bikinis all lined up and am ignoring the fact that while I was sitting on the floor this morning in my bra that Alice asked, "What are those things on your tummy?"  They happened to be some, ahem, loose/fat on my tummy.  Damn your 3-year old lack of filters and honesty!   (Repeating in my head: Inner peace. Inner peace.  Inner peace. Inner F-ing peace.  Pina coladas will make me look better on the beach.  FREE Pina coladas. Free Pina coladas delivered to me on the beach.)  Better. 

From last year's trip:

Lark and Alice's favorite drinks: Mango Tangos.

Mama and Lark.

Ahh...cabana life.

Cuddling in a cabana.

More cabana time.

Family happy hour in the pool after a day at the beach.

12 Years of Lark

Happy Birthday, Lark!  You are amazing.
Love, Mommy, Daddy, Alice, Dublin and Clover

June 2012 (11 years old) Fairy Lark

Spring 2001 (Newborn): Lark with Poppy

Summer 2001: Lark on Cape Cod held by Mama Megan

March 12, 2002: Lark's first birthday

Summer 2002: Enter the Daddy and Lark years

2-year old Lark

3-year old Lark

June 2005 (Age 4): Recital with Grammy Sue

September 2006 (age 5): Kindergarten Lark

July 2007 (age 6): Enter the Mommy Lisa years (now known as Mommy)

July 2007 (age 6): Our noble steed, Dublin

October 4, 2008 (age 7): Our Wedding

Summer 2009 (age 8): Yup, you're going to be a sister!

July 2009 (age 8): Reading at the Cape.  We couldn't leave out your favorite pastime!

January 23, 2010 (age 8): Enter the Alice years.

Summery 2010 (age 9): With Daddy at the Twins

January 23, 2011 (age 9): First birthday fun.

June 2012 (age 11): Mama and her beautiful fairy, Lark.

June 2012 (age 11): The whole fam-damly. 

Summer 2012 (age 11): Always helping your little sister.

December 2012 (age 11): Beautiful Lark

Stream of Consciousness | Fill Update | Lark is Funny

Voodoo Alice. 

Stream of coffee shop consciousness.  I put my credit card where my mouth is and order a gagillion bikinis from Boden, J.Crew (damn you, J.Crew, and your cute clothes on toothpick models) and Piperlime.  I even ordered a few string bikinis because I read somewhere that they can be a little more forgiving because you can adjust them.  I think a guy wrote that.  I probably ordered no less than 15 suits with the thought that one may work.  So here's my question of the day: How do these retailers make their business models work?

I'm an online retailers' worst nightmare.  I order lots of stuff in many different sizes and return 90% of it.  They've trained me to search for coupons or wait for one to show up in my inbox.  And I never pay for shipping.  I've never purchased anything from Piperlime and they wooed me with a 20% off + free shipping postcard.  Even Nordstrom's in on the free shipping and free returns game.  I've routinely ordered upwards of 10 different pairs of shoes only to pick one and return the rest.

I'd love to do a segmentation on online shoppers and see where I land.  I'd also love to really understand how online retailers make their business model's work.  They probably just load it into their cost of goods.  I'

All of this marketing and business model talk is making me lonesome for work.  I have to say I'm already feeling the itch to get back at it.  I'm going to wait to see what the story is with chemo before I put out the feelers for a new position.  If chemo is in the mix, I'm going to wait until it's done to start working, which would put me at the end of summer for a start date.

Tom and I figured out that financially we can go 8-months before I need to start working.  I figured out yesterday when I was ready to squeeze Alice just a little bit too hard that I'll probably want to go back sooner.  I'm such a better person, wife, mom, friend - you name it - when I'm working.  I'm also infinitely more productive and less likely to want to punch the kids when they're driving me nuts. Okay, if you've never felt like you've wanted to squeeze your kids really hard, you're not trying hard enough.

I'm clearly kidding.  And if you didn't know that, please stop reading my blog and sending out all of that negative energy my way.  Or poking that voodoo doll.  Which leads me to an explanation of the opening photo of Alice.

A few months ago Tom, Lark and I were chatting in the kitchen after dinner while Alice played in the other room.  She was very quiet which is usually an indication that she's doing her business.  After a certain amount of time, it's your parental duty just to make sure they're still there and not doing some to hurt themselves. Tom rounded the corner to the living room to find her with a box of toothpicks strategically sticking them into her doll.  Of course she was wearing a princess dress while doing it.  Tom called us in right away to see the disturbing, yet funny, sight.  We couldn't stop laughing and still have no idea how she got a hold of the toothpicks.  Oh yeah, now I remember, we keep the toothpicks in the easily-accessible-drawer-of- dangerous-things Alice shouldn't play with.  Note to self: remove knives, scissors and other pokey things from the drawer.  While I'm at it, pad the entire house so no harm will ever come of Lark or Alice.  Better yet, make them padded suits in cheery spring colors with helmets to protect them at all times - in or out of the house.

So much to do, so little time.

Fill update.  I had my first fill on Tuesday.  It was relatively uneventful but yielded some immediate results.  I could see my breasts getting bigger.  It's not everyday you can say that.  Dr. K. located the fill port on each side using a magnet and proceeded to access the ports using a needle connected to a GIGANTIC syringe holding 50ml of fluid.  I usually like to watch stuff like this as I find it fascinating, but this time I decided to do a little experiment to see how much I would feel.  The result?  I don't have any feeling in a band across my chest where the tissue was removed.  This conclusion was reinforced after I left Dr. K's office.  I was driving to pick up Lark at school and felt something cold on my left arm.  I looked down and saw that I was leaking fluid and that I had a big wet spot over my left breast.  I didn't even feel it.  Crazy.  I read somewhere that I need to be careful when taking a shower because I won't be able to feel the hot water on my chest.  Which leads me to the logical question: what type of freakazoid person tests the shower temperature with their breast?  Right?  Though it is possible, I suppose, to have have this happen:


Back to the leakage.  Fear not - it wasn't my expander leaking.  Dr. K removed some accumulated fluid from my breast after the fill. The leakage was just my very own fluid.  That sounds gross, but it's really not.

Lark is funny.  Her wit is getting quicker by the day.  I love it.  Here are a couple recent ones that have cracked me up:

The other day my mom and I were discussing cleaning bathrooms and what products we use.  Mom asked me what I use in my toilet bowl (how the hell do we get on such subjects?).  Lark chimed in, without skipping a beat, "Oh, we don't use toilet bowl cleaner, Grandma.  Our pee is antibacterial."

The day that Tom and I told her that I had been diagnosed with cancer and she was comfortable with the fact that I was going to live, she turned to Tom and said, "Man, Dad.  You have really bad luck with your wives."

Here's to finding humor even in the hard times. Cheers!




 
 

Self-love | Drain-free | Grammy Sue Sue

Spyhouse Coffee outing.  

Hey Ladies (and Guys, if it applies), I've been thinking that instead of spending our lives obsessing about that 5 to 10 lbs we think we should lose or the fact that our boobies have gone a little south or are just too little (or insert less-than body part here:__________), I suggest we lose 5 to 10 lbs of self-doubt and loathing.  While we're at it, how about we gain a few pounds of confidence and fully embrace the body we have today.

Easier said than done, right?  But not impossible.

I went to buy my first "real" bra at Nordstom.  My stunningly beautiful, talented and fun friend who's name rhymes with Braci and starts with a "T" accompanied me (I make every attempt to protect my friend's identity's - it's just how I roll).  She was really impressed with the wee bit of chest that I have thanks to the expanders.  I feel like a pubescent girl developing very rapidly, without the rollercoaster of emotions and mean-girl problems.  Anyhow, we grabbed a drink after that and discussed our upcoming trips to Mexico and how we both wished we were a bit firmer, felt better in a bikini, etc.

This was the same conversation I had with another friend earlier in the week who's going on a beach vacation.  Again, for the purposes on anonymity, I'll call her Bangie.  

Both woman are gorgeous, wicked smart and funny.  I've never thought for a second have I thought, "Damn, they'd be so much better looking if they took a few lbs off their badonkadonks."  I never think that about any of my friends or anyone else, for that matter.  What a boring world we'd have if everyone was looked like an emaciated Jcrew model.  Oops, I forgot to protect their identity.

If I take a look in the metaphorical mirror, I can apply the same logic to myself and embrace my body the way it is right now with a little bit of mom softness to it and re-developing breasts.  Oh, and let's not forget that I'm completely healthy.  

It's not easy to be in the present and love what one has now.  But it's not impossible either.

So, Braci and Bangie, I hope you strut your beautiful bikini bodies on the beach with the confidence that I so love in you and all of my friends.  I promise to do the same.

Health Update.  I'm drain-free - goodbye holsters! - and am getting ready for my first "fill" today.  Just to recap for the two people who are still reading this blog (Thank you, btw.  That's two more people than I had just a few weeks ago.), at the same time I had the bilateral mastectomy, my plastic surgeon, Dr. K., placed tissue expanders under my pectoral muscles.  The expanders will be gradually filled, 50 ml at a time, until I reach my desired size.  Again, to recap, I've always wanted boobs big enough that I can't see my feet when I look down, so this is going to take awhile.  And if you believe that, you don't know me very well, so we should probably do coffee to get to know each other better.  I'll let you buy my latte.  2% with real sugar.  Half-caf, please, if I've already drank a ton of coffee that day.

The Oncotype DX test, the one that helps determine if I'm a good candidate for chemotherapy on top of hormone therapy, will come back sometime next week.

I'm also going to visit a new oncologist who came highly recommended from a couple friends.  She practices  out of Fairview Southdale.  I'm so relieved that I'm not going back to the original bombed-out office we visited two weeks ago.  Apparently it's a fantastic practice, but it's just not the one for me, nor was the oncologist we met.  Environment matters and I want to surround myself with beauty during this time - beautiful people and surroundings.  I scheduled my first appointment for March 19th so that we'll be able to review the results of the Oncotype test.

I feel incredibly fortunate that I have the resources to make choices about my healthcare.  I've spent a lot of time thinking about other women with similar diagnoses who don't have access to resources (finances, friends, networks of connected people, knowledge) or don't know how to advocate for themselves. I do not take this for granted and noodling on how these women can be helped.   I'm so lucky.

Grammy Sue Sue.  Sue was in town last week to help me.  We loved having you here, Sue.  Thank you for keeping me sane as I adjust to my new normal staying home with the girls. I had a freak out day on Monday (an internal freak out) where I thought I couldn't handle it. I've since calmed down and have settled back into enjoying the present and not worrying about the future.  Having Sue there helped me get my head on straight.

I'm going to wrap this puppy up! I'll let you know how the fill goes.

Lots of love,
Lisa

Grammy Sue and Alice playing "animals."  Sue brought puppets with her and
Alice fell instantly in love with the unicorn. 

We do, Sue.  You are loved.

Tom, Alice, Dublin and I went to the Sculpture Garden on Sunday while Lark hung out with her friends. 

Week In Review: A Bit of Necrosis and the Oncologist

Our beautiful girls.

This was a week of some ups and downs.  My downs are usually short-lived, but man do I hit the floor at at times.  It's a good thing Tom is so very even-keeled.  It balances us out.  

The week started with a revisional President's Day day surgery procedure.  Unfortunately, some of the skin didn't "take," mainly along the incisions.  From what I've read, this happens approximately 10% of the time.  Our plastic surgeon, Dr. K, and a woman who's doing a fellowship at the U of MN in plastic surgery worked on each side of me simultaneously so it was over in a matter of 20-minutes or so.  In answer to all of your questions about whether I was nervous about having a newly minted plastic surgeon working on me.  Just a bit, but you gotta start somewhere, right?  

My incisions look so much better and less purple.  I think I'm going to have some wicked scars on my chest. Whenever I think of scars, I think of my good friends who loves scars because she thinks they make people look more interesting and they always have a story.  True.  I split my forehead open last May and ended up with a Harry Potter-like line in the middle of it. I just added that to the circular chicken pock scar on my forehead and the dog-bite scar on my cheek.  The line on my forehead has faded nicely, but it still serves as a reminder to me that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  And if you don't find my scars beautiful, feel free to lie to me; I'm okay with that. 

On Thursday night, the night before we went to see the oncologist for the first time, we got the news that one of the mom's of a girl in Lark's class who had been treated for ovarian cancer in the past year and a half, is going in for surgery tomorrow to have cancer on her brain removed.  It really threw me for a loop.  It's funny how when I hear about cancer in friends I always think, "It's just not fair." And it pisses me off.  Ironically I don't feel that way about my bout with cancer.  The first thing I thought is, "What is this supposed to teach me?"  I still feel that way about our situation, but f- cancer for all of the other beautiful people who are effected by it.  Back to the mom from Lark's school, please send her and her family prayers for a good outcome and recovery.

I woke up on Friday with a heavy heart and allowed it fuel my mood for the day.  Our oncologist appointment was at 1pm.  When we walked into a large waiting room, I was struck by how many people there were waiting for appointments and also at how bleak it looked in there.  It was all florescent lighting, no natural light and decor that probably hadn't been updated since the 80's.  While we were waiting, Tom told me he could tell  I was sad by the way I was walking.  Darn it.  I wish I wasn't so transparent.   

We were eventually led back to an examine room where my someone took my vitals, we met with the oncologist's nurse, who was nice enough, and then the oncologist.  I don't know why I'm always surprised when we end up in a examine room.  I always picture in my head taking to a specialist, like an oncologist, across a desk.  I have no idea where that comes from.  Back to the meeting...the oncologist listened to my lungs and then examined my chest.  She said something like, "How long ago did you have your surgery?  Two weeks ago?  I would have expected you to be further along.  Are you a slow healer?"  I responded that I normally heal quickly and sited my recent head-wound as an example.  

Tom reminded her that I had just had some necrosis removed on both sides.  To which she responded something like, "Huh?  You're not a smoker.  I'd expect necrosis in a smoker."  Maybe that was her inner voice just coming out.  In any case, that's NOT what you want to hear when you're already in a bad mood and maybe just want some reassurance.  

Rather than tell the whole story as this is getting long, I'll just bullet point our takeaways:

• My prognosis hasn't changed and is still great!  One can lose sight of that when layering on additional information, such as looking at an actuarial table that gives me my 10-year chance of survival (90%).  
• Chemo therapy is still on the table.  I didn't realize that as I was under the impression from our surgeon that it would be hormone therapy only.  It's possible that I just heard what I wanted to hear.  The tumor will be tested to determine the chances that breast cancer will return (it usually comes back somewhere in ones core) and if I would benefit from chemotherapy to help prevent recurrence.  The test is the only one in the market and is called the Oncotype DX.  In two weeks we'll find out my recurrence score from 0-100.  0-18 is a low risk for recurrence so no chemo (50% of samples) and a score greater than 31 is considered high risk and there's a statistical benefit for chemo.  18 - 31 is the murky middle where you need to make a judgement call.  We'll get the results in 2-weeks.
• If chemo is in order, it will be Taxotere  Cytoxan.  We'll cross that bridge on knowing the details of it if we need to, but she did mention that it's a given that you'll lose your hair.  Here's to hoping that's that worst side effect. I read in another young woman's blog who underwent this therapy that her hair actually grew back thicker.  I've always wished that my baby fine hair has some more volume.  Be careful what you wish for. 
• I'm being tested for the breast cancer gene, or BRCA1 and BRCA2.  Having a secondary relative who's been diagnosed with cancer (one of my mom's sisters), my Norwegian heritage and my early age of diagnosis make me a candidate for this testing.  Only 5 - 10% of the population tests positively for these genes.  If you test positive, you have an increased risk of not only breast cancer, but other cancers such as ovarian cancer. Many women opt to have their ovaries removed to prevent that from happening.  Clearly it would also be important information to have for our family.  
• We want an oncologist who thinks about cancer as treating the entire family.  Certainly there's just one of who's physically effected, but we're all on this ride together and it matters that we have two children and the fact that this is Tom's second go around.  This oncologist gave a great cancer tutorial - it was like a good salesman going through their pitch - but she barely acknowledged Tom and seemed sort of removed from the situation.  I could detail some more gaffs on her part, but I'm going to spare you.  Suffice it to say we're going to look for a new oncologist.  

Back to the present.  I'm happy to say that my dauber is up again - at a 3.5 out of 5.  I am, however, getting a little stir crazy.  My energy level is back to where it was before surgery so I have to resist the urge to do to much.  Taking it easy is NOT my forte.  Fortunately, we have Sue, our mother in-law (i.e., Tom's late-wife's mom) here with us for the week to help me maintain my sanity. Thank you, Sue! 

I have another appointment tomorrow with the plastic surgeon where I think (and hope) I'll get the remaining drain out.  

Good thoughts,

Lisa

 

My New Holsters

Yup, I have some new holsters.  Not the kind you're thinking of.  These are some slick new covers I made for my drains so that I can look somewhat normal going out in public.  Tucking the drains under ones shirt isn't the best look and leaving them hanging out is, well, gross.  So, I took an old t-shirt and made some little pouches to hide the drains. Voila! Problem solved.  See the photos below for the before and after.

And what was the occasion that would cause me to get out of my beloved sweat pants?  I had made plans to go to the Children's Theater with our neighbor on Saturday before the cancer diagnosis.  I felt good enough to go so I gussied myself up a little and off Alice I went.  It was Alice's first time there and she loved it.  Thanks Jenny and Edith!

A quick health update: We went to our first post-surgery doctor visit on Friday and I had two of the four drains removed.  There's a bit of skin on my right breast that didn't "take" (i.e., it died) so I'm going in tomorrow for an office visit procedure where the plastic surgeon will remove the skin and sew it up again.  This happens sometimes when the skin gets a little too thin when the general surgeon removes the breast tissue. The goal is to remove as much of the tissue as possible while leaving enough viable skin for the plastic surgeon to sew up.  It's not a big deal - it will just delay my "fills"(i.e., adding fluid to the expanders to start to build out my new chest).  

Thank you all, dear friends, for keeping us in your prayers.  I truly believe that I'm doing so well in the healing  process because of all of love and good thoughts coming our way.

Love,
Lisa

Check out the unsightly drains.  The drains collect excess fluid from my
healing wounds on my chest.  I empty them and record the amount of fluid
collected a couple of times a day.  When my wounds are sufficiently healed and
aren't producing  as much fluid, the drains will be removed.  

Lark's comment on this picture, "Yuck, Mom.  You shouldn't put that on the blog."
That just makes me want to put it up here more.  Is that wrong?

Ta da!  Drain holsters:-).