Chemo #6 - Hopefully my LAST chemo...

Sorry for the lack of posts the past couple of weeks. Here's a breakdown, though:
**Chemo #5 was a doozy.

**My neutrophils (the emerging/immature white blood cells) were 0.03 at my nadir labs a week after. They're supposed to be at least a  4.0. I had been feeling pretty awful, and my infusion nurse, Sharon, said that was definitely why I felt so bad. I probably shouldn't have gone to work all week, but when I don't work, I don't get paid. It's hard to negotiate the gap between work & my health at this point because I'm so tired and it takes my body so much longer to bounce back from each chemo treatment.
I got lots of shots after my nadir labs to help my white blood cell count. They cause some bone pain, but since I switched to a different allergy pill, the pain is much more manageable.

**This past weekend, I slept. I woke up on Saturday morning, ate some breakfast and drank some coffee, then took a nap. I woke up in time for lunch, and took another nap. Then I woke up in time for dinner, and took another nap. I finally just got in the bed... Sunday was a repeat of Saturday. Sadly, I didn't really feel rested for work on Monday, and could have easily slept all day again, but I went to work anyway.

**Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were spent with the family. It was nice, and everyone got along well... We had so much delicious food for Christmas Eve dinner, but I didn't have the best appetite. I ate as much as I could though, because who can pass up beef tenderloin, roasted garlic mashed potatoes, mushroom/sherry cream sauce, and crepes? Not this girl.


Hopefully, I get an extra infusion for my white blood cells today during my chemo treatment so that I don't have the overwhelming fatigue I had after the last treatment. Hopefully, I can get out and walk some this weekend so I don't feel so home-bound and lazy. Hopefully, I can blog about some things over the next few weeks other than how I feel so tired and sick. Keep your fingers crossed!!

Chemo #5 - Penultimate Poisoning

Good news! My CT scan was full of truly, genuinely great things. My bones show signs of healing. The 2 lymph nodes - one under the muscle in my breast & the other in my armpit - are both significantly smaller. The tumor in my right breast is getting smaller also!  My oncologist, my aunt (Nurse Practitioner Extraordinaire), and I are completely thrilled especially because the results are so much better than expected. It's always wonderful to get such news from my oncologist. Let's hope it continues.

Mediocre news... The CT scan picked up some spots on my liver and a cyst on one of my ovaries. I say this is "mediocre" news because my oncologist is not concerned with either issue, but I'll get a MRI next week to confirm his suspicions. The cyst on my ovary isn't at all a concern, because it's plainly not cancerous, and it probably has been around for a while, and it likely caused much of my horrible painful cramps throughout the years. The spots that showed up on my liver would have clearly lit up on my PET scan before treatment started if they were cancerous, and they did not. It's highly unlikely that they sprouted up during my chemotherapy treatments when all the rest of the cancer cells have been responding well. 

My oncologist & aunt both said not to stress over either thing, and we'll do another MRI just to be certain.

Bad-ish news... I had Chemo #5 today, and one more left to go. I wasn't lucky enough to get to skip anything, but I'm really not even that upset about it considering the great news I got. Yes, I'll feel like crap for another week or two. Yes, it'll suck just a little more than last time. And yes, I'll get through it just like I did the previous 4 times -- by being my normal bad-ass self (with a little less cancer.)

Thanksgiving & Black Friday Traditions

The best thing about my immediate family is that we all genuinely enjoy each others' company. We get along well about 95% of the time. That other 5% is mostly due to us all being somewhat hot-headed and temperamental from time to time. Luckily, most of the time, only one of us has a bad attitude at a time.

MJ, Dixie the Jack Russell fur baby, and I showed up at my family's house on Late Standard Time, as usual. Mom & my sister were heading out the door to go to Thanksgiving lunch at an aunt's & uncle's house as we were walking in.  Dad was recovering from surgery so he stayed home and had the added bonus of a cute little dog to cuddle and nap with him while we were all gone. I got a mean case of chemo brain and made a wrong turn, which made me feel rather stupid and made us even later. We ended up being about 45 minutes late to lunch.
The food was delicious, and I stuffed myself silly.
I got to see some cousins & other family members that I rarely get to see. It was a really good day, and I felt pretty decent too.
All the activity of the day certainly wore me down, because I fell asleep before 9pm.

The following day was the dreaded Black Friday. After working retail for many years, I avoid shopping on this day. I find the violent commercialism utterly distasteful.
My mom, sister and I started the tradition of going for hikes instead. We normally do part of the Palmetto Trail, but this year, I just couldn't hike 6+ miles. We did about 2 1/4 miles instead, which was coincidentally about all I could handle. I passed out at 8:30 that evening, and I slept like the dead.

CT Ready

My breakfast this morning was "mocha" flavored Readi-CAT barium "smoothie."  The quotes are mine, not theirs.

My doctor's office gave me an instruction sheet to prep for the CT scan. It said to take the Readi-CAT 1 1/2 hours before the procedure. It was chalky and metallic-tasting, and might be misconstrued as "mocha" if I had completely forgotten what chocolate and coffee taste like. It was not the breakfast I was looking for.

The instruction sheet also cautioned that I might have to drink more Readi-CAT before the procedure. 

And, I probably should have taken an anti-nausea pill with it. 

I wasn't supposed to eat anything this morning, but I was so hungry when I woke up - borderline HANGRY - I was looking for loopholes...  Other than my "smoothie," I'm sad to report that there were none. I did drink 1/2 cup of coffee, because I figured *that* wasn't technically "eating" anything. I'm sitting here now, daydreaming of what I will be able to eat once I get this CT scan done. 

Update:
I had to drink another "smoothie" once they called me back to prep for the CT scan. It was equally "delicious;" it was also equally chilled.
It took 45 minutes to get my port accessed and to get set up for the CT scan.
The CT scan itself?? 7 minutes. The contrast dye was HOT going through my port. I felt like I was on fire from the inside, but not in a terrible way, because it was so COLD today. It also made me feel like I'd peed myself a little. I was warned about this sensation, and I assure you that I didn't pee myself today.

Lucky for me, the radiology people left my port accessed so that I could walk over to my oncologist's office for all my labs.

Blood work was good today. No shots needed!!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Lola's Chemo #4

This week, I had only about 2 days where I felt like myself. The rest of the time? I was simply exhausted. I have slept so much in the past 3 weeks, and part of that might be the fact that I was trying desperately not to get sick, trying to manage severe bone pain for 4 days, and trying to work through it all.

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want

That title isn't just my favorite Smiths song...

In the weeks between my chemotherapy infusions, I go to get lab work done & see my oncologist for visits. After my 2nd infusion, my aunt delightedly confirmed that she is also unable to feel the formerly lime-sized tumor that took up residency in my right breast. Today, my oncologist suggested that we get some scans done after my next infusion, and (in his words) "re-evaluate the course of treatment."

So, perhaps, my next treatment might be my last full chemo infusion. Cross fingers, everyone.

Mid Treatment, Nadir Blood Work!!

This week has been another rough week.
My vision, especially night vision, has been so foggy that watching TV is a chore, and driving is pretty much off the list. This symptom started from the first chemo, lasts about 5 days, and then fades, but as my treatments progress, I've noticed that this symptom (and others) are getting more pronounced, last a little longer and are just a little harder to deal with. Such is the nature of chemo, I keep reminding myself. "I'm halfway there" is my new mantra.

Happy Birthday, Lola!! Love, Chemo.

Thursday, I had chemo. I'm officially halfway through my 6 rounds, which means (for the math deficient people) I've only got 3 more rounds to go. My last round of chemo will be a belated Christmas present, much like this one was a belated birthday present.

Bring the Pain

I used to think I had a pretty high pain tolerance. I don't like taking pain medications, and most of the pain meds the doc gave me for my port surgery haven't been used. I took them for a day or so, when I was sore and for the anti-inflammatory effects. Once I realized that the full pills made me feel like I was drooling and my IQ had dipped into double digits, I cut them in half. I might have taken 3 full pills -- the rest were halved and staggered. I figure I can't function in pain, but I certainly don't look confident with a glazed look in my eyes.

More Chemo Aftermath

It turns out that the aftermath of Chemo 2: Electric Boogaloo was pretty widespread across this whole week.

I had a really rough week.

Thank You, and Yes, I Know I Should Be Sleeping Right Now....

Obviously, there are many things about cancer, chemo, and just being sick, that just absolutely suck. I know it, you know it, and I'd like to say that "we're all in this together" but we all know that's not absolutely true either. Granted, you all are praying/sending good vibes my way, and it's wonderful to know that I have so many people who think about me every day, and just want to know I'm doing OK.

Chemo, Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

Yesterday's chemo infusion went off without a hitch. I worked on some crochet stuff, and the last 45 minutes or so, took a drool-worthy, snore-inducing nap. It was wonderfully restful for me, but I'm not so sure how the other cancer patients felt about it.
I slept quite a bit once I got home, after Mom and I ran a few errands. Then, my sweet JBB arrived with peanut butter brownies, loaded with peanut butter chips, mini-Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and peanut butter drizzle. Those things won't see the light of day tomorrow. I promise you.

"Tell them you want the 'Telly Savalas'..."

Everything I read about cancer treatment (and the side effects thereof) said I could expect to lose my hair at about 14 - 17 days after my first chemotherapy infusion.

My first chemo was on 9/12... 2 Thursdays ago.

So, like clockwork, my thick, curly mane waited until Thursday to start falling out in earnest.

Sabbatical for Chef Lola

This week has been a long one. I haven't really done anything, and I'm pretty exhausted. The irony is that I've been waking up every hour, on the hour, every night this week. Waking up frequently isn't really new for me. Ever since I was a little girl, my sleep has been mediocre at best. It's a rare thing for me to sleep through the night, and honestly, I can't remember the last time I did.
Nevertheless, here I am... at midnight... writing.

So far this week, I've managed to work every day. I cooked dinner every night this week.
(Granted, I made sandwiches one night and basically re-heated something from the freezer tonight, but I'm counting it. I have high hopes for a gigantic pot of marinara sauce tomorrow night, which I will transform into myriad dinners through the first part of next week.)
But once dinner was cooked, and I finally got to sit down to eat, I've been ready to go to sleep.

I've got one week before I have chemo again. It's possible that this is my new baseline, and I'm OK with that, really.  It's also possible (or more likely) that I'll be even more tired for the next round. It also means that I need to be a bit more organized and efficient with planning my meals.
Luckily, everything tastes funky right now, so I'm not interested in cooking elaborate things for dinner.

I have several days next week covered with my marinara, but I'm looking for different "cook once, eat several times" types of dishes to make over the next few months. I need extra protein. Sadly, I can't tolerate anything remotely spicy right now either.

Any ideas, readers???

Water Water Everywhere

This weekend, I managed to walk 1.5 miles on Saturday and about 3 miles on Sunday.
My knees started hurting before I even finished Sunday, but I just figured I'd go home, put some ice on them, and carry on. Wrong answer.

I'm retaining water. This is also a new experience for me. A miserable new experience...
Everything aches. My knees, my ankles, my hands are all swollen and tight. I can't bend my knees past a 90 degree angle, and they're so stiff that I hobble instead of walk right now. My hands hurt if I try to make a fist.

My aunt is calling in a prescription for a mild diuretic. I would have my fingers crossed that it's all I need, but my fingers are too swollen to cross right now.

Insomnia Aids Rude Awakenings

I developed a mysterious rash just after chemo. It doesn't hurt or burn or itch, but it looks red and blistery and nasty. I did what every lucky cancer patient does. I called my aunt, who just happens to be my oncologist's nurse practitioner.

Genuinely Happy WBC Dancing!!!

I remember a few weeks ago, pining over the lack of genuine-stand-alone Good News when I went to see any of my doctors.

Today, I got my Good News.

Elegant Sledgehammers

There's a reason why leeches are still used in modern medicine. Yes, their purposes used to be wide and varied, but mostly ill-advised and deadly... We've "learned" how to use them, though, and now, what used to be a Swiss-Army-Knife application has become a very effective way to coax blood into a body part if you were "relieved" of your possession of that body part too early. (Think "Shop Class.")

Hydration & TMI & Other Side Effects

I normally don't have trouble staying hydrated. Most days, I carry around a liter-sized Nalgene bottle, full or mostly full of icy cold water, and I refill it at least once every day. The past 2 days, though, I've been struggling with it. I've not moved more than a few feet from my couch or bed. I've not had my trusty Nalgene. I've been drinking water or ginger ale through a straw from a pint glass. It makes it difficult to gauge the amount of fluid I've been taking in.

Here comes the TMI part:

Third Day's the "Charm"

When MJ picked me up from our friend's house around 1 on Sunday afternoon, I said, "I think today's my bad chemo day."

Post Chemo, Friday-Saturday

MJ made sure that I have lots of visitors the next 2 days... Not that it mattered much, because mostly I just wanted to sleep. I did get out and about for a little while, because staying at home for me is a tough thing to do. Other than feeling sleepy (which is kind of standard for me, with the narcolepsy and all,) I haven't really experienced many truly terrible side effects.
I did have to invest in a large bottle of Tums (the wintergreen flavor, please-&-thanks) because I've had some heartburn. I *never* have heartburn, so I'm not sure if it's just stress or a legitimate side effect.

Saturday, I travelled to Augusta for a short visit with a few friends. We had pizza, of which I ate very little. I think my appetite is not great at this point. We walked around quite a bit, but nothing strenuous, and I am used to walking around a lot. I did start to feel the fatigue set in around midnight. Luckily, that's about when we stopped walking around so much. Once we made it back to our hotel room, though, I was done.

When I woke up the next morning, things had taken a decided turn. I definitely had a fever. I was achy, exhausted, and a little over an hour away from home. I felt like I got hit by a truck...a very large truck that dragged me all the way back to town....

Lola's First Chemo, Part One

I'm sitting in the infusion room at my oncologist's office right now.
I opted to have my blood sample(s) for labs drawn through my Port-A-Cath in my chest so that the nurses would only have to poke me one time. It'll extend my stay in the infusion room for a little while today, but in the meantime, I get a bag full of saline for extra hydration. I just got some anti-nausea solution and antihistamine in my IV to prepare for my first chemo drug. The three infusions are given separately. The first infusion of each of the drugs goes more slowly for the first visit, so the nurses can make sure I'm not going to have any allergic reactions. Today, I'll be in this recliner until 3 pm.

Lola's First Chemo, Prequel

I had a rough night's sleep last night. You know that anxiety one gets the night before something exciting happens? Usually, the excitement is "good," like a visit from Santa, or a trip to the beach.
Yes, I am oddly "excited" about starting chemo. It sounds weird to you, I know. It feels weird to me. I'm not excited, like today's my birthday and I'm having a big party. I'm excited, like I'm in uncharted waters, like I don't know what's going to happen next, like things could go perfectly well or horribly wrong, and I get to roll with either direction. I have no control over whether this concoction of systematic poison is going to work well or not at all.

Final Countdown

After weeks of waiting, eleventy tests/biopsies/doctor visits, I finally got my official chemo schedule today. I start chemotherapy on 12 August 2013, at 9:30am. The first treatment should last until about 3pm. I have to pick up a round of steroids to help with some of the side effects of some of the chemo cocktail.

It's official. I'm a hard ass.

It's been an exciting day. I worked half a day today because, once again, I got to visit the  hospital for a "procedure" this afternoon.
Since my bones lit up like Christmas on my PET scan last week, my oncologist thought it would be prudent to order a bone biopsy to test for type (we're rooting for HER2+, kids!)

My aunt, the Oncology nurse, called me yesterday with the appointment time: today, at 1pm. **Mind you, I have tickets to see Muse in Charlotte, NC, tonight. So, like the little trooper I am, I took the appointment, and I'm currently doped up on Percocet, on the way to Charlotte.**

I got to the hospital at 12:15pm and waited for the nurse to call me back for pre-op. JBB generously donated her chauffeur skills, and also recommended an evil little game called "Dots" to keep me distracted while we waited. (Thanks, JBB! Just what I need: another time-sucking addictive game. I love it. And hate it. :-P )

I learned some things today:
1. My new Port-a-Cath rocks. It took the nurse no time at all to hook up my IV.
2. The doctor that did my bone biopsy was hot... and he basically got 30 minutes of one-on-one time with my ass this afternoon.
3. My bones are surprisingly very hard. The hot doctor said so.
4.  I know what a bone drill sounds like. And it is very disconcerting.

The Good, The Bad, The Bony

Just once, I'd like to visit my oncologist or my surgeon (or my GP for that matter!!,) and get some genuinely *good*  news. Especially news which is good, which stands on its own, which isn't good by comparison to the "bad" news.
Sadly, today was not really that day.

I finally got the results of my PET scan from last Saturday.
Don't freak out; I'm not, yet.

The good news? All of my internal organs are clear.
The bad news? My bones were not so lucky.
The ugly news? I get a bone biopsy next week for confirmation.

Needless to say, chemo is on hold until we get more biopsy results.  Tentatively, I'll start chemo the second week of September...

Here's why I'm not exactly losing my mind right now: there's a fancy-pants chemo drug that targets bone.

Let's cross our fingers.... again.

Limbo

I'm in the weird post-diagnosis, pre-chemo state of cancer.

I've already had the strange glances at the port on my chest, people asking if I'm OK while pointedly staring at the incisions... Is is wrong that I said, "No, I'm fine..." to someone at work? Is it worse that I told the truth to the very next person who asked? I feel almost guilty when I tell the truth to some people and withhold from others. I feel strange when I say "I'm fine" when, technically, I'm not. I feel even more strange if there's a rush of emotion, and I find my voice cracking when I say, "I have cancer." That makes me feel like a fraud.
I feel like I've already failed to live up to the "survivor" label every time I have to assure someone that it's not a matter of *if* I lose my hair, but *when* I lose it, and that my preparation is not a sign that I've (already) given up.

I probably sound ungrateful right now, but really, I'm not. I know that I'm profoundly lucky to have so many people thinking about me and praying for me and helping me.

It's a dichotomy.
I'm supposed to be appropriately somber. I must be unapologetically courageous. I should have ridiculous optimism.
Unfortunately, on my best days, I'm crass. I have a twisted sense of humor. I'm a cynic.

I'm much more likely to tell a off-color cancer joke than lead a kumbaya.

If my joke is funny, though, please laugh with me.

Filling in the ________

I re-read yesterday's post. Yesterday's events all seems rather foggy now, so I'm glad I wrote it last night. 

Currently:

I'm in a haze of pain killers, which really aren't killing the pain as much as just tempering it a bit. I'm ridiculously sore. The incisions on my chest and in my armpit are tender, and look like I've been toyed with by a very selective fetishist. I don't have any stitches, because my surgeon super-glued the incisions closed with DermaBond and covered the sites with a liquid bandage. They're all shiny, a little swollen, pink, and "new" looking. Also, I "found" 2 electrode stickers on my body from the surgery last night. Yes, it's a little disconcerting, but let's all cross our fingers that those were the only items "forgotten" from my surgery yesterday. 

Surgery Virgin

I've never had surgery of any kind, been put under general anesthesia, or had any kind of procedure that required scalpels or IV drips...until today. I've been dreading today since I got my diagnosis, probably as much as I dread the day I have to shave my head.

I've been worried about the general anesthesia, not so much the going-under part as much as the rejoining-the-conscious-world part. My sister and brother have both had several surgeries, so I was able to talk to them about surgery and what to expect. My sister did a good job of explaining the details of what would happen, but she also cautioned that she and my brother both have terrible potty mouths when they come out of anesthesia. They've both cursed out doctors, nurses, family members, etc. Sometimes the thrash about, threaten to yank out IVs, and generally behave like asses for a few minutes when they come to. My mom confirmed this today, as we were walking into the hospital. She also said that my brother was so terribly behaved after one surgery that the anesthesiologist actually said to her, "Yeah, we're going to give him something to let him take another little nap. Then we'll try to wake him up again and see if his attitude's improved." Funny? Sadly, yes. Embarrassing? Terribly.

Heavy PETting

I am radioactive today. I am not allowed to shake babies or hug pregnant women until tomorrow.
I had a PET scan this morning. The lovely radiology tech injected my "perfect vein!" with a radioactive solution and I got to relax in a comfy chair for about 45 minutes before I laid on a hard bed and was shuttled (very s-l-o-w-l-y) back and forth through a white plastic tube for about 25 minutes. The tech said I didn't move a muscle. I guess all that practice in shavasana at the end of yoga practice has helped me after all.

The tech said that she is sending all the image results to the radiologist today, probably it's already in his/her hands, and that my oncologist should be able to look at it Monday. I have to go in for pre-op testing Monday afternoon, so I'll probably be impatient enough by then to contact the oncologist or my aunt to see what's up...

The Calm Before

The past two days have seemed relatively normal. No doctor appointments, no strangers fondling my oversized right breast, no medical tests...
The only times I've had that twinge of panic/fear is when the oncologist called to schedule my PET scan for this Saturday (which is actually tomorrow) and when my surgeon called to schedule my Port-a-Cath placement surgery for Tuesday....and right this second, because I'm writing about it.
It's beginning to seem a bit more "real" to me. I'm not in denial, but feeling sort of out-of-body right now. like I'm watching it happen and waiting...

Oncology, Part 1

It's only been a few days now, but it really feels like I live at the hospital.
My nurse at the oncology office is my aunt, so I feel very comfortable with that situation. She offered to keep my mom in the loop so I don't have to for now. I'm really thankful that she is willing to do that, because I could regurgitate everything I tried to absorb from today's visit on this blog, but I really don't have the energy to do it over and over again.
So, without further ado:

Diagnose this

I saw my surgeon and my nurse today for the official diagnosis & plan of attack. They gave me a huge binder full of reading material, big hugs and pep-talks. My nurse is a 12-year cancer survivor. My aunt is the nurse practitioner for my oncologist, whom I get to meet tomorrow.
I spent all weekend stressed and worried, and all day today distracted and on edge, mostly because my imagination loves to run wild speculating on the myriad ways I could die from this.
That aside, it is just nice to know *which* particular invader has taken up lodging in my breast, and especially great to have such an awesome team of doctors & nurses to take care of me right now.

So, the official diagnosis is a Triple Positive Breast Cancer, meaning my tumor is hormone fed (bye-bye birth control....) and  very fast growing/aggressive. Luckily, we caught it pretty early, but we're pretty sure it's already spread to the lymph nodes in my right breast (where the tumor is.)
I see the oncologist tomorrow, probably will have a PET scan on Saturday. Then I get a port installed for chemotherapy next week, and start the chemotherapy anywhere from 1-3 days after getting the port installed.

Once I've had a few rounds of chemotherapy, and the tumor responds (fingers crossed,) I'll have a lumpectomy followed by radiation.

 I'm overwhelmed and everything is happening so fast, so I'm sure I'm not emotionally processing anything right now.
At this point, my focus is to get through this week. I'll worry about the rest later.

The Big C

My doctor called.
I have cancer.

I don't know what kind, but we scheduled an appointment for Monday at 3pm. She should have more information about the type of cancer and should be able to give me a better idea of how we can treat it.

I need a drink.

Biopsy

Went to my biopsy appointment. I was supposed to get breast tissue samples & lymph node samples taken, but I am ridiculously ticklish, especially when I'm nervous, so I couldn't be still enough for the lymph node samples.
So now, I have a small incision under my breast which is now covered with steri-strips to keep it from opening/bleeding, a few missing bits of breast tissue, and brand new metal marker in my boob.
It's already sore, tender, achy.

My doctor should call me with preliminary results from the biopsy tomorrow. I know I'm not going to be able to function at work while waiting for her call.

MRI results

My doctor called me this morning. She has already scheduled a biopsy for me tomorrow.
I freaked out on my co-workers, but they were all understanding. I left work because I just couldn't find the energy for phone tech support when my brain really wants to focus on the worst scenario imaginable.

MRI

I was able to find a piercing studio and have 3 of my stainless steel piercings switched for acrylic.

I went in for the MRI at 6:15am. I changed into baggy ridiculous ugly scrubs and the technician gave me an IV for the contrast dye infusion.
He asked me if I had a special request for music... I asked for techno. I got house. Close enough.

A female tech helped me get settled on the "bed" of the MRI machine, face down & topless. I got headphones faintly pulsing with electronic music.
I know I must have fallen asleep for most of the procedure. After all, I can fall asleep just about anywhere/anytime.
I do remember when the contrast dye was mechanically injected into my arm. My fingers got cold, my lips tingled and I smelled/tasted metal.

Once the procedure was finished, I felt dizzy. I'm not sure if it was because I was suddenly awake and mobile after remaining so still for over an hour, or if it was just a side effect from the contrast dye.

Breast Specialist Doc

I saw a new doctor today. She's a surgeon who specializes in breast health. She did an exam, and scheduled me for an MRI for tomorrow morning.
I get to find the elusive piercing shop that is open on Mondays so that I can replace all the surgical stainless steel in my body with acrylic.
Really big magnets + stainless steel in sensitive bits = NO FUN.

Lump

It all started with a regular visit to my GP. I see her about every 3 months, since I get prescriptions for controlled substances to treat mild narcolepsy and ADD.
We decided it was time to have the gyno/breast exam portion of our visit. She found a lump.
She wrote me a referral to have a mammogram & sent me on my way.
I sometimes have lumpy boobs, so I really just thought it would go away after a while.
I really wish I could have a do-over on that decision to wait it out.
I finally got a mammogram and sonogram done. The doctor who looked at my mammogram and sonogram results decided that I should try a course of antibiotics, to rule out an infection of the breast tissue.

I finished that 10-day course of antibiotics with no change in my right breast, much to my dismay.