I Have Some Tension

I've been laying down and thinking and thinking and praying and thinking. At some point I get overwhelmed and take a deep breath. And with that exhale I notice my shoulders come down a little bit. So I concentrate on them and I realize I've been holding them up to my ears all day. So I take another breath and they lower a little more. I ask God to make me calm and hold me in the palm of His hand. And that's when I feel more relaxed and at peace. I think it's a sign I'm a little nervous.

But there's really nothing to be nervous about. I have amazing surgeons, the team of Chris and Mom at my side, and an army of prayers at my back. I can't wait to be cancer free.

My surgery is tomorrow, Tuesday, at Sloan Kettering Hospital in Manhattan. We leave tonight for the city. The surgery calls for me to be in the hospital just one night. On Wednesday, I plan on being loaded into the car and driven home in a Percocet haze and then plopped into my bed where I would like to sleep for two more days. They I plan to arise, with a clear head and a clean body, never to have to wrangle with a cancer cell again.

I can feel the prayers and well wishes. I can feel this thickness in the air. I know it's you. It's your thoughts that are keeping me warm and holding me tight. Thank you. Thank you. It's almost over. I can feel it.

xoxo

Can This Chest Surgery Come With A Boob Job?

We've decided. We feel so much better when we've decided. After our Around the World in 80 Days tour of cancer doctors, we're landing in the Center of the World - New York City.

I'm scheduled for chest surgery Tuesday, April 30th at Sloan Kettering. They say "April Showers bring May Flowers." I'm saying "April Surgeries bring May Margaritas!" Actually it was a Cosmo-looking Contrast that helped find the cancer spots in my lungs. I had to drink this liquid before the CAT Scan so the doctors can read the scan more completely. It used to be a thick, chalky liquid, but now it's thinner and more palatable and red! Not as palatable as a Cosmo - but it sure looked like one. If only I had packed one of my 76 martini glasses!

Back to the surgery: it's called a VATS procedure - Video Assisted Thoroscopy. Let's talk about the positives: they don't crack your check open - that's a plus! Three small incisions in my side. You only have to be in the hospital for one night - bonus! God knows I have enough cute PJ's to be in for a month. They give you a pain pump - bingo! When I was in the hospital in 2009 for 14 days they gave me the pain pump full of morphine. I was allowed to push the button every 8 minutes. I was so desperate for the juice I asked the nurses for a digital clock so as soon as the number flipped to the 8th minute I could hit the button. (Drug seeking behavior perhaps?) Looking forward to a reprise of that!

The downsides: it's another surgery - haven't I been cut enough? Wasn't my uterus enough of a sacrifice? Now I have to give up part of my lung. Did I mention I'm being inducted into the Smithtown High School Athletic Hall of Fame next month?? Hysterical, right? They must let everyone in. I mean, I did have 2 school records in Track and Field and was award Athlete of the Year in 1998 (which I had to share with a softball player who is probably a lesbian now). But still, what a silly, fun honor. So the induction ceremony is in a month (at 8:30am - can someone say Mimosa?!?). I told the surgeon I really wanted to be there. He said I could probably still go two weeks post-op. I just think it's ironic, they'll be inducting me for running. After the surgery, I'll be about 60 pounds heavier than high school, bald, stitched up and missing some lung. Not the picture of an elite athlete - that's for sure!

This is a good picture from the Archives though:

The other major downside: I can't play tennis for most of the summer tennis season. I've missed 2 of 4 seasons already due to cancer. I was feeling good enough to hit the ball around on the newly resurfaced Cooke Court. It would have been fun to be competitive this year. Instead, I think I'll just cheer and drink in the stands. I'll probably wear my tennis skirts just for fun!

The final downside: silicone implants are extra. I thought while they had my side open they could just stick some fakies in there. But it turns out the cancer ward won't do that. Bitches. But with 40 extra pounds on, I've been lucky that about 10 of that went to my chest. So word to the wise: don't pay for boobs, just eat non-stop and you'll get them (and a gut and cellulite).

Mommy is flying up to be with me. Thank goodness for Mommies. Chris takes his Boards again next week. Every 10 years you need to re-certify by passing the Boards. So he's been studying like crazy. We have so much big stuff going on all at the same time - if we ever get out of "crisis mode" we'll be bored.

The group at Sloan Kettering does more than 500 of these VATS surgeries a year. They say there is a superb success rate. The doctor feels very confident about the surgery. They'll biopsy the pieces they take out. Cross your fingers there's cancer inside and that these are the spots that keep my hCG up. So by taking them out, I'll be cancer-free. There's always a chance they are just hard dead tissue with no cancer. Then we keep hunting. But there's a chance I could be cancer-free by May 1st. Let's pray for that.

xoxo

Work Worry

I've decided to call my now year-long work stoppage my "sabbatical." I never wanted to be a professor but was always interested in the idea of a sabbatical, when you could take off a semester or even a year and still have a job when you come back. I think professors need to write a book or do a research paper or something during their time off. I hope to make Cosmos and Chemo a best selling book when I'm finally done, so that might justify my time off. Of course, if I do write a hit book, I'll then have to take another "sabbatical" to sell my book. (I really want to sit next to Matt Lauer on the Today Show and flirt with him like Chelsea Handler does whenever she's selling one of her best selling books!)

I've been out of work for more than a year ... it's more like 14 months. I could have birthed one and a half babies in this time. Sadly, I won't be birthing any babies. This is kind of like my maternity leave. It just isn't coming to an end and I don't have a baby at the end.

I'm so anxious to go back to work. I still watch TV and yell at the television when reporters use poor grammar (not on WGAL of course, but the other stations need a few copies of Strunk and White.) Some of my greatest friends at News 8 have moved on and taken other jobs since I've been out. I can't believe I won't share the newsroom with Matt Belanger and Tom Knier again. It will be a different feel when I go back. I'm so afraid one of the new people will ask me who I am and when I started and treat me like a new employee. I'm sure no one will be rude, but I have fights with new employees in my head - "Who am I?? Who the fuck are you?? I'm goddamn Meredith Jorgensen and I've worked here for a decade." (I will leave out the technicality that this year will be my 10th year at News 8, even though I've only actually worked 9 of them.) No, I would never say that anyone, but that's where my anxiety leads me.

I also had a little anxiety when I got this letter in the mail. It's from Hearst - our parent company. It said "Open Immediately." I panicked. I was afraid it was a pink slip. It was a thin letter, I envisioned just one sheet of paper that said, "Thanks but no thanks. You're out."

 

 

 

Imagine my relief when I opened it up and saw this:

 

 

 

Simply a letter fishing for business. Met Life wanting to sell some Life Insurance. If only they knew how sick I was they would never actually want to sell me life insurance - I'm a bad bet. Plus, my brother-in-law, AJ, works for Met Life - if I needed insurance, I'd go to him, not answer a random letter.

Bottom line, it seems I'm on edge. Anxious to get back to work, nervous that people in the newsroom might think I'm milking this cancer thing, worried that I will lose my competitive edge when I get back on the beat, sad that I'm missing my friends and all the fun newsroom banter. But my goals are clear. First, get better, get cancer-free. Then, and only then, jump back in with both feet, so I can tell other people's story instead of boring you all with mine.

Road Trip Round-Up

Hi. It's me, Meredith. Sorry I've been away ... literally and away from the blog. I think I felt like I needed a little break. I really feel like I need a break from cancer. I think a break from blogging for a bit helped me feel like I had a break from cancer.

Well, the world wind trip of second opinions is over. Now, the challenge is making sense of it all, as each appointment couldn't have been more different than the next.

First, we stopped at Duke. The doctor was two and a half hours late. As the wife of a doctor who sometimes runs late, I'm sympathetic. However, when a medical resident said he might not be able to see us, we kindly reminded him that we drove 7 hours to see him. His partner, a fabulous female doctor, stepped in. She was wonderful, gave us some good perspectives. But two and a half hours later when we finally saw the man we came to see - he was useless. His opening sentence was, "If you see Dr. Goldstein in Boston, why did you bother coming here?"

Part of me felt good that Dr. Goldstein was getting such high marks from the other physician. But the other part of me was pissed that this doc had nothing constructive to say, no insight to offer, no suggestions to look into. He was a waste of time.

Funny story though. I decided to get a little dressed up for this appointment. I wanted the doctor to know that we are upstanding citizens who have their shit together. We're not just a couple of shlubs. So with my cute outfit on, what's the first thing they say? Strip. Here's a hospital gown. All the doctor saw was an oversized smock they call a gown. It's the great equalizer.

Next, we went to Sloan Kettering in New York City. This appointment was entirely different. The doctor's name is Carol Aghajanian. So the first thing you think is how do you say that? It looks like Afghanistan. Is she foreign? No, she's white and blonde and very serious. She doesn't pull any punches and she said it like it is. I was petrified. She called me "critical." She said plenty of people die from this cancer. She recommended surgery immediately and ordered a CAT scan. Plus, when I asked her about my ovaries, she said with the amount of chemo I've had she doubts the eggs are viable for anything. Ouch.

It was overwhelming. I think I knew most of those things deep down, but this is the professional sitting in front of you, looking you straight in the eye, saying it all in black and white. I cried when we left the office.

Dr. Aghajanian knows what she's talking about though. She is the only person to order a chest CAT scan. Goldstein had suggested the PET scan, which came back clear. We left her office and trekked across midtown to get a CAT scan and sure enough, she found cancer. Two nodules in my right lung. Small ones, but still. I was pissed we hadn't found that already. She again recommended chest surgery - go in, cut the spots out and close back up. Several days in the hospital and a morphine pump for pain. Doesn't sound like my idea of a good time. We left New York City with a lot to think about.

But we didn't leave the Big Apple without crossing something off Chris' Bucket List. We ate at the Carnegie Deli!! Hysterical!! The place is packed, there was a line outside, the cram you in, and practically throw the food at you. But the food is so damn good!! The sandwiches are literally the size of your head! And the place is full of pictures of famous people who have come to sample the fare. I was just waiting for them to ask for my picture. :-)

Next stop, Chicago. All three of these appointments are within 9 days of each other. The doctor in Chicago was middle of the road. He was more interested in our plight than Duke. He was kinder and gentler than NY. He too suggested surgery then urged follow-up chemo (ugh). Chris described him well by calling him the "umpire."

Now we are putting all the opinions together. Today, we are heading back to New York to see a Cardio Thoracic Surgeon who could do the chest surgery. It will be interesting to have a consultation with him and see what he has to say about the spots on my lungs.

Thanks for the continued support and prayers. I will try to do a better job of keeping everyone in the loop. This just never seems to end....

On A Chemo Cut-Off ... for now

I'm on a break. Like a Ross and Rachel break. The kind where you eventually go back.

There are some common questions associated with a break: why? for how long? what are you doing in the meantime?

Here are the answers: I'm not quite sure, it's out of my medical paygrade: I don't know, several weeks to maybe 2 or 3 months; drinking and getting out of the house as much as possible.

There is talk of giving my bone marrow a break. That will help all my blood levels increase to normal. Robin Roberts from Good Morning America had breast cancer first, then a bone marrow transplant because of all the chemo they gave her. I don't really want to have to do bone marrow after this cancer. So a bone marrow break sounded good.

There is talk of letting the cancer grow until the number is in the hundreds - then re-scanning again to see if we can see it. My numbers the last three weeks were 6, 26, 43. So it's going up - it was always going to go up without chemo. But it's not shooting up, so I guess this is the "wait and see" part.

There is more than talk ... there is significant action toward getting a 3rd, 4th and 5th opinion. It will be a world wind tour for two weeks around Easter. A stop at Duke Medical Center in NC, a swing-by NYC to go to Sloan Kettering, then a quick jaunt to Chicago for Northwestern's Gestational Trophoblastic Disease expert.

If nothing else, it's nice to get out of town. And Chris is coming with me, which is difficult for his work but they've been so helpful and supportive. Chris is my favorite. No matter where we go or what they say, I can do it if he's standing next to me and holding my hand.

In the meantime, I feel like I'm in a little funk. I've been dreading blogging - I feel sad I'm still stringing this shit along. Like enough is a enough. For me and for you poor souls who still read this. I'm blue during the day, but happier when Chris gets home. And now we both crack open a cold beer together. At least that is fun. "So good when it touches the lips." Gotta keep focusing on the positive.  

My TV Update

It's been about 8 months since I did my stories for News 8. Chris and I had our reservations at first, but sharing our journey ended up being such a great experience.

Well, it sounded like people were asking about me. A bit. Poor Brian Roche said not a day would go by when someone in town, someone he interviewed, someone would ask how I was doing. It must get old saying, "Yeah, she's good. Hanging in there. Hope she'll be back soon." Ronda says the newsroom gets phone calls. Like really?!? Who is picking up the phone to call the station? It's a little crazy, but also really, really kind.

I thought it was time to do a quick update, so the viewers know I'm still alive. Andy shot it for me. He always takes such good care of me. I think it turned out well. I think I look heavy and I make weird faces, but it's genuine. So if that's how I look when I talk normally - then I guess you guys have all seen my funny faces before.

I'm not on facebook anymore, but my sister Ashley (who stalks her news people in Florida AND our news people in Lancaster) said it was posted on fb. She said a lot of people "liked" me - which makes me feel good. But then she read some of the really encouraging notes that people wrote and I cried. Thank goodness for the kindness of other people. It keeps me going.

http://www.wgal.com/news/News-8-s-Meredith-Jorgensen-shares-update-on-her-battle-with-cancer/-/9360790/19305376/-/gthr1k/-/index.html

Isn't Cancer Enough? Skunks too?!?

This story dates back three weeks now ... but the odor of skunk still lingers at Casa Cooke ... and the pictures are too funny not to share.

We've had a dog for 8 years now. We live in the woods. In all that time, K-9 and skunk have never tussled ... until now. Molly (the Terrorist) Maguire Cooke and Pepe Le Pew had it out - big time!







 



   VS.













It didn't take long for us to figure out we'd been hit. And I mean WE - this might have "happened" to Molly, but we've all been suffering for it! It was 8:30 at night and we hear Miss Molly barrelling up the stairs. The dogs have a doggie door downstairs where they come and go as they please. Well, this night, Molly wanted inside in a bad way. On the way up the stairs, she's stumbling and making a racket. Plus, she's sneezing like crazy. Skunk in the nose. She was sneezing skunk spray out of her nostrils, all over my walls. Molly quickly reached the top of the stairs and Chris and I still didn't understand what her malfunction was.

That's when Molly ran into the den and promptly wiped her face on the Oriental rug, back and forth on either side of her snout, as if she had an itch she couldn't scratch. Instead, she was trying to abate the skunk spray all over her face. Then she ran to the second Oriental rug and did the same thing. Rub, rub, rub. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, Chris is in his chair. We're watching this whole spectacle with wide eyes. Then we look at each other, ready to laugh at Molly's bizarre behavior when it hits us - the smell. More than hit my nostrils, it hit my eyes. Burned my eyes and my lungs. But I was surprised at how much my eyes hurt (my eyeballs!!). Instantly we knew we were hit. Chris reacted with lightening speed, turning on his heel, opening the sliding glass door and ushering Molly outside onto the porch. Thank God. The 13 seconds she spent in the house would cost us $500 in carpet cleaning fees. I can't imagine what would have happened if she lingered inside any longer.

 

(Side note: I understand it's not politically correct to call Asian people Oriental. I did it once and some concerned adult scolded me and explained, "Only rugs are Oriental. People are Asian." She said I wouldn't want to anger any Asians by misnaming them. I've been sure not to make that mistake since. But this incident got me thinking, it is the same with rugs? What if I called Certified Carpet and said I had two Asian Rugs that I needed to be cleaned? Do you think the carpets would be offended? Would they roll-up in protest of being called Asian, rather than Oriental? I don't know. But I like these rugs and with the skunk incident, they've been through a lot already. So I don't think I'll test my theory. These are the thought I have while I'm in the shower. Weird.)

 

Anyway ... We'd been skunked. Of course, Barlie wasn't skunked directly, but her fur was definitely guilty by association. Only the girls will know what happened out there in the woods of Cooke Corner. All the people knew was that they stunk to high heavens.

 

I said we should bring them to the Dog Wash place. Chris looked at his watch, noted it was 8:30 pm and that the Dog Wash placed probably closed in a half hour. He also may or may not have mentioned that he had 3 beers and was too tipsy to drive ... or care that much at that moment. His solution: lock the dogs outside for the night.

 

I played along with that plan until about midnight. We had been in bed for about an hour. The dogs had been outside for about 4 hours. These are not Outside Dogs. They are Inside, Sleep in Your Bed Dogs. They sometimes camp out over night in an indoor/outdoor kennel when we travel to Blooming Grove. But that's also at the height of summer. Say 70 degree nights. While Chris gently snored, sleeping fine after locking his daughters outside, I quietly hit the Weather Channel App on my I-pad and tried to shield the light of the computer from Chris' eyes. It was 29 degrees. I crept out of bed, tip toed to the back door and let the girls inside. I could tell it was cold because my bare feet were freezing on the flagstone, my ball head was catching a chill and the water bowl I set outside for the dogs had just the thinnest layer of ice on it. I backed into the house, carrying the ice-cold water bowl, closed the laundry room door and cordoned off the dogs in the only space acceptable for them to stay while still "skunked." They weren't thrilled about not having the run of the house, but the laundry room was better than outside or the garage. I slipped back into bed, laid my cold head on the pillow and look over at my husband: still sound asleep. I set my alarm for 5:00am. I would wake up before Chris and let the dogs back outside, making it look like they spent the whole night out there. I took a deep breath and thought, "Geez God. They say You never give anyone more than they can handle. But cancer AND skunks. I really think we're pushing it!"

 

Promptly at 5, I woke up and sent the girls outside. Chris woke up at 6 and noticed the girls on the front porch and remarked that they had survived the night. Sure, as far as he knows. The best part about this post is Chris will never read it. He doesn't read the blog. He has no idea what I write here. So it's our little secret, okay? ;-)

 

The next day, AJ graciously drops off a dog cleaning solution. I scrub the girls down with his recipe. I leave them drying outside. They are shivering. When Chris gets home, we take them to the Dog Wash for Bath #2. This is in Kendig Square. There's a new pet shop. Ironically, Chris and I had visited the shop the week before, just to see what they had. At that visit, I had noted the large baths in the back of the store. The clerk said, "It's the Dog Wash. It's only $10." I was like, wow - that's great! Picking up on my enthusiasm, he let me know it was self-serve. Oh, I said, I get it, no wonder it's only $10, you're doing all the scrubbing yourself.

 

Well that what we did two weeks later. Scrubbed the dogs ourselves. We were a sight for sore eyes. Chris and I in our rubber aprons. The dogs miserable being washed twice in the same day. Customers came through and commented on our plight. We must have looked pathetic. Me, bald, with my apron on, sleeved rolled up, yellow kitchen gloves on, shampooing a miserable creature. Onlookers offered their condolences on our being skunked. Everyone said you should use Tomato Juice. This is also what I had been saying since they got sprayed. But instead we opted for the Nature's Miracle Skunk Deodorizer that the store sold. The only miracle was that I didn't flip out when we got to register and found out the solution was like $22. Tomato juice is like $1.49.

 

I took these pictures to mark the occasion:

 

Chris seems kinda into it. Molly's is cursing the skunk.

 

Most of the stink was concentrated around the ear and head region. Gotta really get in those ears.

 

Not at all Molly's idea of a fun Friday night.

 

Barlie put on a good show. Didn't mind the shampoo but really hated the blow dry.

 

It's been three weeks. We now refer to Molly as Stinkus Face. If you kiss her on the head like this you will still get a whiff.

 

It's amazing what you do for creatures when you love them. I guess that's why Chris still puts up with me!