Pam and Caitlin at DisneyWorld July 28, 2009

REALLY?!?!?

OK - In the category of (almost) impossible to believe, I have now been diagnosed with skin cancer -- lentigo maligna-- a form of melanoma, to be exact, and it's located on my earlobe. (I thought it was just a freckle!)

I kept a dermatologist appointment last week that I'd had scheduled for months. Thought it might even had some variety to my day-- seeing new and different doctors, and talking about something other than my colon. My dermatologist biopsied my earlobe-- what I thought was just a big freckle. WRONG-O! My doctor called me this morning @ 7:30 am to share that it is an early form of melanoma. She is referring me to a local ear, nose & throat doctor because, in her words, "you're not exactly swimming in skin on your earlobe." My appointment is set for next Tuesday, the day before I begin chemotherapy. (Caitlin thinks it could be "cool." "Will make you look arty, like Van Gogh")

At this point I'll be honest. I am more pissed than upset. I mean, really, there are not enough cancers to go around for everybody to have their own? I have to double up and get two?!?!? And all of this on top of Charlie's unemployment? Somehow my name has gotten onto the wrong list!!!

So I'll close with the following and ask you to help get the word out:

NOTE: If you are looking for a spokesperson for a specific cancer, please contact Pam Riddell @ PRiddell37919@aol.com. We can't make any promises, but we do have strong credentials (colon cancer and melanoma), and we are apparently on the "Cancer Hot List." Let me know if you need more info or a picture. (Use your imagination: a bald woman with one ear...)

Things you can quit...

... Smoking
... Your Job
... Biting Your Nails
... Drinking
... Sports
... A Diet
... Your Marriage
... People you don't like
... Your Kids (if you're really cold..)
... even... Your Life


Things You CAN'T Quit:

CANCER

and, fortunately, God!

Hell has frozen over...

Did you hear it? (Actually, does it make a noise when it freezes over...). Well, I never thought I'd see the day but they have added a new medication to my regimen-- ONE TO INCREASE MY APPETITE!!! Now you know "Old Pam" is in bad shape. (And how can this be possible when The Food Network has become my default channel? I assure you, I've been their top viewer for the last 3 weeks!)



The first couple of weeks after I came home from the hospital I literally ate everything in sight. My friends were so wonderful in bringing tempting dishes over for us, and who could resist?!? But now I'm just not so interested. So they're having me drink some vile liquid stuff every morning. I'll let you know how that goes.



The Gray Murk hangs on. I can see no progress this week at all. My shoulder is feeling somewhat better and I'm back off the Percocet, which is a good thing, but still not sleeping so well. Last night I took 2 "Restaril" and a Percocet, and... NOTHING. (My pharmacist brother-in-law will probably have a fit when he reads this!) I think I must have dozed off finally sometime after 3am. But when I lie in bed at night I do feel closest to my "old self." I can make plans for the following day and I actually feel more energized than I do during the day. But then daytime comes again and I'm faced with the reality of showering, which is still a challenge, and all the other things necessary to "go out," and I just go to the couch instead. The spirit is strong, but the body is still weak.

I have found a new friend in "Xanax," or as I call it, "the medication that keeps me from bursting into tears at odd times and in front of most anyone." A condition I definitely need to get under control.

My family remains my constant support. Friends have been so great with beautiful cards and notes and calls, but I just don't feel like talking yet. Kind of like I have to get my head screwed on right before I make my "debut." How terrible would we all feel if I just burst into tears? Gotta' get that one under control. So I do try to talk with the kids and be there for them-- that's the extent of it for now.

I'm sure most of you know that Allison, our oldest daughter, is pregnant with our first grandchild, and due in early October. I really have spent some "quality" time with her the last couple of weeks trying to help her put together her list of baby "needs" and register them. Who knew this would be so hard? Back when we had kids, you got a few "onesies," some undershirts, and if you were lucky, maybe a swing or diaper pail. Now, there are 5 pages of swings to choose from alone-- and you have to read the comments, and study the safety listings, and GEEZ-- I've been using more brain cells than I gave myself credit for! But I am quite enjoying it and it keeps me from being totally bonkers. (The spirit so wants to actually GO to the baby store and look at all this stuff, but so far I've been confined to the internet. At least I can do that.)

Will try to post again when I have more positive news and less whining...

Family Portrait

The entire family. Taken two weeks after my surgery...Friday, July 10th, 2009.

What Fresh Hell is this?

So, I went to have the chemotherapy port installed on Friday. It's a small device, approximately the size and shape of a contact case-- two distinct circles, side by side, with an attached catheter of sorts. And it's inserted high on my left chest wall.

Charlie and I showed up about 9:30 for the 11:30 procedure. This was the third time in 3 weeks I'd done this-- first for the colonoscopy on 6/24, and then for the actual surgery on 6/26. I knew the routine and all the nurses remembered me. My doctors characterized it as a very minor procedure-- would only take about 15 min. Then we'd be good to go and ready to start chemo in a couple of weeks.

I tolerated the procedure very well, was actually awake as I left the OR. I chatted with the nurse (intelligently, I might add-- not post-surgery gibberish), who was amazed at how well I did and I was amazed at how well I felt. No pain at all! Couldn't wait to get home. (I think I mentioned "Old Pam" was fully running the show at this point.) Caitlin-- who has a very odd fascination with my wounds-- insisted on taking a picture of my new incision with her cell phone. (Geez, probably on YouTube by now...). All in all, a neat and tidy procedure accomplished with a minimum of pain or hassle, and I got right back to my life.

WRONG!!! Nobody mentioned that when the anesthesia wore off it would feel like someone had carved out my solar plexus with a dull melon baller-- YIKES! Thank God for the pain meds, which at the moment I am taking faithfully every 6 hours. I don't remember having this much PAIN (yeah, the hospital likes to say "discomfort," but it's PAIN) with my original surgery and 12-inch incision. Of course, they were giving me intravenous drugs so maybe they just kept me doped up and I didn't know...

So, it wasn't bad enough I walked bent over like an old crone, protecting my incision and midsection. Now the left half of my body is useless as well, and my arm just sort of hangs there, like a decoration. Sigh... it's kind of like Cancer Pam is trying to beat the s**t out of Old Pam. But, as evidenced by this blog entry, Old Pam is in charge today! Wish me luck...

War of my Worlds

OK -- you know how sometimes on TV or in the movies they'll use a gimmick to demonstrate two sides of a character? Or to show his spirit after he's dead? Basically, they just split the actor in two, to show either the good guy & bad guy battling with each other, or whatever the two separate facets are that they're trying to demonstrate. Are you following me? I'm not explaining very well, but that's what my world is like now. Two separate people in this one body.

First we have "Old Pam." (And it kills me to call her "old," but "chronologically pre-dating the cancer" is just too awkward! So we will have to call her Old Pam). It took 100% of Old Pam, both mentally and physically to BE Old Pam. That's who I was. Now we have "Cancer Pam," and it's the same thing. It takes Cancer Pam-- right now-- 100% of her being to be Cancer Pam-- to live in this new world, learn new terms, be concerned about new things. And not just "be concerned," but re-prioritizing your life with a new center.

Are you following me now? Two, separate, distinct individuals, both demanding 100% of the physical and mental "being" of Pam. It's like I'm warring with myself. And right now the battle is hot-- both sides want "ALL" or nothing.

Earlier this week Old Pam was strong. The body was still weak and recovering, but Old Pam was running the brain and thinking appropriate "Old Pam" things: emails I needed to write, calls I needed to make, what we need to buy at the grocery store, helping plan Allison's baby shower, etc. Even though I was lying on the couch and still in post-surgery mode, Old Pam was fully in charge and engaged.

Then around Wednesday Cancer Pam showed up and demanded ALL of the attention. Nothing had changed physically, but I became completely incapable of doing anything from my "real life." I just listened to the phone ring and couldn't do a thing about it. It's like a shroud descended on me and I couldn't see past it.

Now, here's the really screwy part: on Friday I had to go back to Baptist West to have my port installed for chemotherapy--more on that later. But suffice it to say it took up my whole day. And guess who was in residence then? OLD PAM!!! See how screwy it is. I'm in the hospital, right back in "pre-op" for the third time in 3 weeks, and instead of being consumed with the procedure at hand, I'm thinking about how I'd like to go to Steak & Shake for lunch, and check out the Baby Sale in Turkey Creek, as soon as I leave the hospital. I literally left the OR wide awake and ready to go-- thinking about things I wanted to do. (Ultimately, Caitlin talked me out of the shopping because my neck was still covered in betadine and she said I looked like Big Bird and would scare people, so we came home instead.)

But you see how confusing all this is? I never know who's going to be in charge-- Old Pam or Cancer Pam. I guess that will be the rest of my story-- reconciling the two.

Doctor's visit

Today I went back to see my surgeon, Dr. Greg Roberts. I love him and feel so blessed that he's in charge of my care. He made me feel better about my ups and downs. The first week I was home I really seemed to feel better and maneuver better each day. I expected it to continue. WRONG! This week has been tough. I felt like as my incision healed, everything else should get better as well, but Dr. Roberts says it's very much an up and down thing and to not be discouraged. This week I haven't even had the energy to work on my emails. Seems like a simple thing, but especially for work, I have to put on the "Pam persona" and exude positive (with customers), and I couldn't do it. Maybe the weekend will be better...

Also, I haven't slept worth a nickel this week. Was trying hard not to take the Percocet any more, and the sleep prescription alone wasn't cutting it. Haven't slept well all week. Dr. Roberts says I should take whatever I need to sleep-- percocet is fine by him. Made me feel better and hopeful I'll sleep tonight.

He also told me he was surprised by how quickly I was able to leave the hospital. He had fully expected me to stay 10 days AFTER the surgery, and I was able to leave only a week later. He said the insurance company was probably happy about that. (Glad somebody's happy!).

Tomorrow I'm having the port inserted for my chemotherapy. It's an outpatient procedure, but requires anesthesia, etc. Talk about deja vue!!! I can't say I'm looking forward to it. He said I should expect to be sore (like I've been punched...) for 3-5 days afterwards. Again, just when sleep and some relief seems to be at hand-- new hurts! Caitlin will post for me this weekend and update you all on that.

An unexpected thought came to me last night (while I was lying awake...), and I decided it was a gift. If I had to have cancer, I think I found out the best way possible. I woke from the anesthesia, was told, and the planning began for my surgery. Also, I got good drugs from the start and don't remember much about the interim between the diagnosis and the surgery. And I'm grateful for that. How much worse it would be have been to find out via a test or doctor's visit and then have to come home and dwell on it while the planning and scheduling commenced. I think the worry alone could drive you out of your mind, so I thank God I didn't have to endure that as well.

Please keep praying for me-- your prayers help more than you will ever know!

How I got here...

Cancer. This is a journey I never expected to take-- couldn't happen to me. WRONG! Even though I can catastrophize with the best of them, I hadn't even considered a scenario where I got anything but a clean bill of health from my colonoscopy. It was a routine test, scheduled because I was due. No symptoms. Nothing that would lead me to worry about any outcome other than the expected. I fully intended to wake up post-procedure, get dressed and go have lunch with my husband.

Instead, I find myself on a very, very different road now. My whole life is changed-- not sure where I'm going, only that a long and difficult road is between here and "whole again." I have been so totally overwhelmed by calls, and cards and notes and food and flowers from so many friends it's hard to grasp. But the good wishes and prayers are what have sustained me these last 3 weeks. So this blog seemed to be a good way to share the journey for anyone interested, and I'm told it will be therapeutic for me. We'll see. I do seem to be short a few brain cells post-surgery so if nothing else, will be good exercise!

It started with a routine scheduled colonoscopy. I'd had one about 5-6 years before so knew what to expect, etc. But waking up to the words "colon cancer" wasn't in the plan. I'm sure it was much harder for my family-- my husband who was waiting and realizing it was taking too long and something must be wrong. That part is kind of hazy for me. I remember "colon cancer" and being given the option of going home and coming back to start all over, OR choose a surgeon and proceed with surgery ASAP. I chose the latter and they admitted me to the hospital at that point. That was my only real decision. God handled the rest. He provided me with a wonderful, caring gastroenterologist-- who I had just met for the first time that morning. He sent me an awesome surgeon, and a wonderful oncologist. They are my team and are guiding me on this journey.

The hospital stay is becoming more hazy by the day-- thankfully. Ten days total-- 4-5 days of that in ICU. I didn't even realize at the time I was in ICU. But when Charlie (my husband) commented for the 3rd or 4th time on what beautiful flowers I'd received from someone, I got suspicious. I may have been on drugs, but could look around the room and plainly see there were no flowers! Who was he trying to sell here? That's when he told me I was in ICU and the flowers were waiting elsewhere.

So, I survived the surgery. Dr. Roberts, my surgeon, removed 60% of my colon and resected it in 2 places. My gastroenterologist-- Dr. Silver-- was quite surprised that I had had no symptoms. In hindsight, I realize I might have felt bloated pre-surgery, but just chalked it up to being overweight-- I hadn't given it a second thought.

I can't emphasize enough how important it is to have a colonoscopy when you hit the magic age-- 45 or 50. It's yucky, for lack of a more descriptive word, and nobody enjoys it. Heck, nobody even wants to talk about it-- myself included. But I have to emphasize again-- I HAD ZERO SYMPTOMS. This colonoscopy saved my life, I hope. If you're due, please go get one. Do it for your family and the people who love you.

So, here I am almost 3 weeks post-surgery. I'm pretty much off the pain killers-- they do give you some awesome drugs in the hospital-- maybe that's why it's a little hazy... I'm still having trouble sleeping. My oncologist gave me something new yesterday-- Restaril?-- so we'll see how that works. But my surgeon said my sleep cycle would be disrupted for awhile. Sigh... Everything seems much more doable if I can just sleep.

My chemotherapy is scheduled to start week of August 3rd. It will be a 3-day cycle every other week, 12 sessions total-- 6 months. I've been briefed on the possible side effects which seem a little daunting. In the hospital, having survived the surgery, which was pretty big in my world, the prospect of chemotherapy seemed less scary. I sort of figured at the time, I've gotten through the surgery, that has to be the worst of it. Now I'm having second thoughts.

Actually, yesterday when I walked into my oncologist's office for the first time and was confronted with a female patient who was obviously going through chemo (she was bald), I kind of lost it. Since then I've been thinking a lot about the millions of men and women who have preceded me on this journey. We are all surrounded by them. Do we notice them? Do we really see them? I don't think I did before this. Of course, the most obvious visible sign is baldness. But I never really thought about these people before or what they must be going through. I have to admit to maybe even being afraid of them. Like, if I acknowledge them it might make me more vulnerable to this disease. I hope I've been alone in these thoughts and that others are more compassionate than I have been till now. I realize now that hair loss is just a superficial thing-- it almost doesn't even count when you look at the bigger picture of the suffering these people are enduring. And it's daily-- 24/7, especially in the middle of the night. You can't escape it. It's like a cape you're forced to wear and you can't take it off. The best I can hope for is to stand up tall and wear it the best I can-- I won't let it wear me.