Gold Star -- The Aftermath

A few weeks ago I received an email from a web design/copy company asking me to answer some questions because they were hired by the McElroy Trust to revamp the Gold Star Teacher website (phew, because it needed it). I answered my questions and sent them in and truly didn't think much more about it. A week or two later I received another email telling me they really liked my writing style and wondered if I'd be interested in writing a blog article to debut on the the newly designed site.

Since I've never written a blog before, I was nervous. Ha. (Actually, I WAS nervous about this one since people actually asked me to write something BECAUSE of my writing style... that hasn't ever happened before).

I noticed tonight the website is up... my blog is about teaching, of course, so if that doesn't thrill you and you're just here to check up on me that's cool too. (I'm fine, we're in the middle of a blizzard, Cav has a fever, Eric is playing on the computer, Ki is pouting because I won't let him play on the computer anymore, the dogs are in snowy heaven romping around outside.) If you ARE interested and perhaps only check in on this blog to read my witty words, I'm sure this entry disappoints, so you should try this instead:

www.goldstarteacher.com

Carpe diem. -- Trela

Merry Christmas!

From the four of us to all of you, the happiest of holiday seasons!

Carpe diem. -- Trela

Mayo Mindgames

Let me start out with my favorite writer: "All's Well That Ends Well." Hold on to that thought so as not to go into panic mode (which I frequented today... not fun).

This morning I had my scheduled breast MRI, not normally a freak-out occurring for me, but for last September's trials and tribulations. If you don't remember last September, well, I think those are song lyrics, but trust me, it's not worth revisiting.

Based on that historical event, the MRI freaked me out a bit. After a missed attempt on my IV we finally got the ball rolling and spent 40 minutes trapped in a tube. Yay. From there I moved directly to a chest x-ray (mostly because I missed my August appointment, oops). We had breakfast in the three hours we had to kill before heading to an appointment with yet another breast specialist (our third in five years). She delivered the repeat/rewind September news: the "mass" noticed in September was in fact smaller, but there was another suspicious area on the other side that they wanted to take a second look at. To give her credit, she realized immediately that our staying overnight was going to be a pain, so she called around and was able to squeeze us into the ultrasound. I literally had to take off my gown before an exam even happened in order to make it to the ultrasound on time. The tech couldn't find the suspicious area (I thought a good sign!) and the radiologist who came in to check her work was the same doctor who'd flagged my MRI. She was almost apologetic... said she wished she could flag the MRI with a note that said, "I'm not worried, but...." The ultrasound showed absolutely no abnormality, so yay, back to the specialist's appointment. She and my oncologist worked out a schedule and she "released" me from the Breast Care Center's care. On to oncology..

Pretty uneventful here... essentially we'll be backing out of my quarterly chest x-rays, not so much because I've graduated, but because the tests don't really see what we need. The new plan is basically to continue the breast MRI (which is actually to look at my non-existent left side, not the right, which we previously thought) once a year, and to do a chest CT once a year. That's still ultimately less testing, but it's the freak-Trela-out kind... ah well, what can you do? Sounds like I'll have an appointment every six months for the next two years, one at Mayo (MRI) and one more locally. At that point, we'll have hit five years... then we re-evaluate. Of course I'm discouraged to not be dismissed from care, but as we discussed at one point in the appointment, I'm no longer a priority at Mayo (it took three months to get this appointment, when I was first diagnosed, it took three days).

It's sometimes good to be unimportant.

Carpe diem. -- Trela

I Am a Terrible Blog Writer

My frequency would get me fired if this were my job. :)

Life is going pretty well for our clan these days. Work keeps me ever-occupied, and in the rest of the time I have the three people I live with who keep me out of trouble. Kile is thriving at his new school in Jesup, and Cavanaugh has taken his absence at montessori as an indicator that she is now in charge of the entire world as she knows it. Eric is busy at work and just finished his stint at National Boards at Palmer last weekend. It makes for a long weekend for him, testing the almost-graduates, but I know he enjoys it from a professional perspective. Not nearly as cool as my conferences, though, I get to attend a 90/90/90 conference with some of my co-workers in LAS VEGAS in December. Definitely looking forward to that.

Certainly a lot to be thankful for as ever this Thanksgiving. With an MRI looming I can't help but look at Cavie as a four and a half year old indicator of my progress. I feel great, and have no worries going into this appointment (which of course is actually freaking me out that I just don't KNOW something is wrong). I'll update after the appointment on the 30th. Hoping this will just be my new annual appointment and for the rest of my life I'll be able to hold the Mayo.

:)

carpe diem -- Trela

Pen Pals With Peanut

A new school year has started, the summer literally flew by! We were incredibly busy with completing my master's program (yay) and redoing our septic system (ew). Hard to believe summer is almost over and I've been back at work for three weeks already!

Here's an activity we'll be working on in my class this year. My mom is my current Rock Star participant, but she could use the help (and probably the break).

9am: Mail carrier delivers mail at George Washington Carver Academy in Waterloo, Iowa

9:03am: Office staff begins sorting mail

9:07am: Office staff puzzles over postcard addressed to Peanut, the Bulldog

9:10am: a knowledgeable administrator intercepts the postcard and leaves the office

9:12am: Said postcard is delivered to Mrs. Rott's Language Arts class

9:15am: 8th graders silence themselves and hold their collective breath in anticipation of the latest note from "THE TRAVELER"

9:16am: Today's postcard: Dublin, Ireland. Pictured: The Doors of Dublin

9:18am: Mrs. Rott fends off question after question about the identity of the mysterious "TRAVELER"

9:20am: a discussion about Dublin, the architectural doors of Dublin and Ireland as a whole ensues

9:23am: the students are engaged, interested, and mystified

Wanted: more TRAVELERS

Throughout their 8th grade year, my Language Arts students will complete many "Around the World" assignments, most of wihich stem from postcards from our mysterious Traveler. In order for these assignments to be successful, as large a variety of postcards as possible must be collected. STudents work on topics such as places they want to live, want to vacation, and the significance of area landmarks. As a result, I am ALWAYS looking for more TRAVELERS!

Willing to participate? Send postcards (school appropriate, please) to:

Peanut the Bulldog

George Washington Carver Academy (GWCA is ok too)

1505 Logan Avenue

Waterloo, IA 50703

All postcards should be signed "THE TRAVELER." Please also send me an email so I know to expect your card (and so I can tip of my administration!).

This has become a super fun activity in my room... if you don't travel anywhere this year but live outside of Waterloo, a postcard from your hometown is just as fun! The kids really like to see different places so the more visual your card is the happier they are. We hang the postcards on a memo board on my computer counter all year, and even this early in the year I see kiddos wandering over to look at them during their free time.

Who is Peanut?: Peanut the Bulldog is an actual member of our class. He's a full-time student at Carver, complete with the uniform. He sits quietly monitoring all of the classes from the director's chair at the front of my room, unless, of course, a student has invited him to sit on his or her lap for the period. Since a bulldog is our school mascot, Peanut fits right in. He LOVES getting mail.

Please let me know if you have any questions. Thanks so much for reading this!

: )

T

Gold Star Video

Just wanted to add the KWWL commercial video for my buds not in the area!

http://www.kwwl.com/global/video/flash/popupplayer.asp?ClipID1=4819654&h1=Trela%20Rottinghaus&vt1=v&at1=Station%2013&d1=30100&LaunchPageAdTag=Search%20Results&activePane=info&rnd=2354660

There's something thrilling about a newsman saying your name....

Carpe diem.

Trela

Good News is... Good News!

A few weeks ago a reporter from the Des Moines Register came to our school to observe. I've attached a link to her article here: http://www.desmoinesregister.com/article/20100502/NEWS02/5020333/Troubled-school-tries-to-prove-doubters-wrong

Also released in the last week was the "official" Gold Star teacher list and info on tickets for the May 18th event. http://wcfcourier.com/news/local/article_6a7fcd5e-53ab-11df-aab5-001cc4c03286.html?mode=story

Not as significant in my day-to-day (fortunately), I had my quarterly check with my oncologist in Cedar Rapids on Wednesday. Chest x-ray produced clear films, so I've got another three months of freedom. I do need to do an MRI to follow up on last summer's drama, but that we'll probably push off another month or two.

Carpe diem. - Trela

Feelin' Like a Rock Star

Hee hee, I'm about to be famous -- again!

A camera crew is coming to my classroom this week to record me working with my kiddos. Last week I was surprised (read, nearly terrified) by a group from the RJ McElroy trust wandering into my classroom. With my three administrators in tow, I was more than a little caught off guard. All's well that ends well -- they were there to let me know I'm one of the 10 recipients for this year's Gold Star. (The official title is The Gold Star Award for Outstanding Teaching, but that just sounds pompous to me...in a good way!) Apparently there is much pomp and circumstance for said award -- there will be a reception at UNI on the 18th of May. I'm tickled, truly. Made my year!

My darling girl turned four today -- I can't help but think of her as sort of a strange little calendar -- every day she grows marks another day further and further from my diagnosis. She was six weeks old when my medical drama began, and now here I am, celebrating her birthday -- again -- and winning an award for my teaching. Who'd have thought? Ah, what a wonderful thing time can be...

Carpe diem. - Trela

I Like Me, Just the Way I Am...

Ok, maybe the scars are a bit of a pain. The prosthetic, not cool. But the alternative? Heck to the no.

I met with my plastic surgeon today just to go over my options regarding the tram (read: take the tummy and staple it to the chest) procedure. I appreciate his opinion, because at this point he knows me pretty well, and he's also very familiar with my (numerous) procedures. Fun things he shared:

Full recovery from a tram is 3 to 6 MONTHS. Yikes.

His last patient couldn't stand completely upright for 6 WEEKS. Ugg.

He's never done a tram under a litisimus flap... which I have.

The procedure involves tunneling the tummy UNDER my skin/muscle up to it's new site. Tunneling. Ew.

He would be able to keep my belly button in place. What?!?!?

My scars will still show. That, actually, is fine.

He also said if I were him, he definitely wouldn't give up his summer to do this... careful readers may remember Trela has to take a week long class this summer to finish her Master's. Trela does not know why she is writing in third person -- it's just been that kind of day. But Trela, as previously mentioned, appreciates his opinion.

Good advice. Glad I stopped in. Lovely to see the office. Delightful weather to drive around in at 9am. Fabulous. Moving on now....

I have an appointment at a new prosthetic shop here on Friday. It's all good....

Carpe diem. Trela

What to do next...

Reaching the two year mark was a HUGE milestone. Three and a half years ago, it seemed impossibly out of reach, and boom, here we are. Cavanaugh is a little walking reminder of how much time has passed since my diagnosis. Since she was only six week old, nearly everything she's ever done has been mentally recorded on my "after cancer" calendar.

Two years also means I have some decisions to make. Actually, one big decision, and that's whether or not to "finish" my plastic surgery. I can stop where I am and live with a prosthetic forever. In fact, my oncologist is totally cool with that decision, though he mentioned sometimes women in that position find themselves having a lot of back problems... um, doc? Let me reintroduce you to my husband, the chiropractor....

There are other drawbacks -- mastectomy bras, no matter how cool the colors (my fave is the completely impractical pink and black leopard print), are still cut differently and get kind of uncomfortable. It's tough to wear "normal" clothes with them sometimes. Even a relatively modest scoop neck shirt will allow one side to sometimes peek out. Don't even get me started about mastectomy swimsuits.... clearly not designed for the recovered 34 year old.

My other option, of course, is surgery. I'm told its a six week recovery, but frankly, putting six weeks of "down" time together these days is a challenge. So is six hours... The surgery basically entails using my tummy extra to create a real living prosthetic -- one that would obviously be permanently attached. Because I continue to eat correctly, exercise, and have been blessed with great genetics (among other things!), I don't have enough tummy to make a full breast. That means I'd also have to have an expander put in. If you've followed my journey for a while, you'll remember the expander is the softball-like thing that's placed under the skin and is periodically injected with saline to stretch, or expand, the skin. I call it a softball because it feels like that's what you're lying on. Not sure how long I'd have to have that in before another surgery would remove it to replace it with a silicone implant. Again. I feel like we've done this already...

One more procedure after that one to do some cosmetic touch ups, then some tattooing. Phew.

Currently I'm thinking I owe it to myself to meet with my plastics doc to look at a timeline. I don't know that I want to have this surgery at all. I'm torn, really. I'm also slightly superstitious as it was just a few months after I was "finished" last time that I had the recurrence. I know that's crazy, but cancer does that to you. So... I'd love you to give me your thoughts, or if you know other people who've had the tram procedure done, let me know! I'm fishing for opinions here... can't make one on my own!

Carpe diem.

Trela

2 Down, 3 to Go

It's official! I am two years cancer free! By all accounts, five years is the magical number, but I'm well on my way!

Eric and I are celebrating by doing nothing and watching a movie so this is perhaps my shortest post on record. Just wanted to update!

Carpe diem.

Trela

Yuck.

CT tomorrow.

Always an icky nerve-wracked time, though to compound the issue this quarter, one of Eric's cousins who was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after my diagnosis passed away this weekend.... just kind of makes you a little more reflective. I refuse to have the what's fair/what's not fair conversation with myself (though my subconscious tries valiantly to have that conversation regardless) -- it still weighs on my mind. Heavily.

I have no actual physical reason to be more freaked out by this CT than by any other, but the reality is the freaking has been there for nearly a week. It's illogical, I know that. 90 % of my current freaking has absolutely nothing to do with my own health, but the lost health of someone I did not even know. In 12 hours, I will either be MORE freaked out or completely calm. It's frustrating. And it's not fair.

But I'm here. And I desperately want to STAY here... though that doesn't make balancing this week's survivor's guilt any easier.

Cancer sucks. Seriously. Sometimes I think the mental is worse than the physical.

Aren't you glad you tuned in for an update? Hope tomorrow's is better (and truly, no reason to think it won't be...knock on wood)

Carpe diem.

Trela

Team Trela

vs. Team Trela, 2008

It's almost that time of year again!

Two years ago, when I was going through radiation treatment at Mayo Clinic, my staff put together a staff vs. students basketball game. The money raised definitely eliminated a lot of our travel/lodging/food expenses during my 5 week-stint at Radiation Beach...and then some. It was a fun game, especially since the teachers were triumphant. Last year we again held a staff vs. students game, but since I was in a different place medically (fortunately) this time we used the money to buy DVD's to be used in the chemotherapy area of my oncology office. So, that poses the question... what to do this year? I'm opening it up to suggestions! I'm not sure if it needs to be cancer focused (will it always be? don't know!) or kid focused or something else! Let me know what you think!

The game this year is on Friday, February 5th about 3pm in the gym in my fancy new school. Come by and check it out if you're in the area!

Carpe diem. - Trela

Nothing to Do with Cancer...

I enjoy reminding myself that this blog started for one purpose and has really turned into something different. (I do have a CT scan the first week in February if you still tune in for those kinds of details. On a worry scale of 1-10 I'm at a 2 right now.)

It's been a heck of a week in Waterloo. If I were writing a book, this week alone would consume a full chapter. Other than a humorous couple of hours involving an incredibly flat tire, a pair of grey suede heels, a good friend, a helpful boss, and a gigantic tattooed man, nothing really fun happened this week. And yes, I realize that a flat tire should probably not be the highlight of my week...

If you haven't heard about it, this week the Iowa Legislature released a list of the 35 persistently lowest achieving schools in the state. Despite the fact that my school only opened in August, we made the list, along with four other schools in our city. The news was depressing, to say the least, especially because, technically, our kids haven't even TAKEN a test yet under our new school name. The state looked at the last three years of achievement on our standardized test, and schools that were below proficiency were deemed "persistent low achievers." Anyone who works with me knows that our school is tough, but they also know we've made incredible gains in the last year. Most of us are working our little tails off on a regular basis.

Early this week, the superintendent of our district asked that we sign a "commitment to our schools" web document. That also made it a good week to do some soul - searching and genuine re-committing to my career. Talking to a former boss helped immensely, talking to colleagues reaffirmed many of my beliefs.

This morning, still frustrated, still feeling like I swallowed a HUGE bowl of Jell-O, I googled some of these quotations and thought I'd post them as much for my friends and colleagues in Waterloo as for myself. At this point, no one knows what is going to happen to our schools or our jobs. We're just playing a waiting game, but until that point, we're still in the classrooms, desperately needing to make progress.

Education is the ability to listen to almost anything
without losing your temper or your self-confidence.
-Robert Frost

It must be remembered that the purpose of education
is not to fill the minds of students with facts...
it is to teach them to think, if that is possible,
and always to think for themselves.
-Robert Hutchins

Every student can learn,

just not on the same day, or the same way.
-George Evans

Upon the subject of education,
not presuming to dictate any plan or system respecting it,
I can only say that I view it as the most important subject
which we as a people may be engaged in.
-Abraham Lincoln

It's only when you hitch your wagon

to something larger than yourself

that you will realize your true potential.

- Barack Obama

In an effective classroom
students should not only know what they are doing,
they should also know why and how.
-Harry Wong

We can do this.

Carpe diem. - Trela

3 Pounds!

Last weekend in a whirlwind Chicago/Cedar Rapids/Des Moines flurry of activity my mom (who I only saw in Chicago, just to clarify) asked if I had lost weight again. (Again? Gosh, I love you, Mom.) In truth, I've been fighting those 20 pounds that chemo (and maybe the remainders of Cavanaugh's baby weight) had left behind since I finished treatment several years ago. Steroids are not fun for the healthy skinny girl who (realizing I'm completely genetically blessed) had never before had to worry about weight. When my doctor equated losing chemo weight to losing baby weight I perked up -- Kile's 55 pounds were gone after 6 months! This wouldn't be bad! Six months after the end of chemo though, my "cute" clothes remained in a pile at the back of the closet and the scale remained stubbornly stuck just a few pounds shy of the immediate post chemo weight.

I set my goal, realistically four or five pounds heavier than I was before becoming pregnant with Cavanaugh. I started working out. I'd always been a pretty healthy eater, but I consciously made slightly better selections in food. And nothing happened. For a long, long time. Having hit menopause at age 31 and then coming back OUT of it did little to help the situation (contrary to my onc's hopes that it might). All of those teenager hunger cravings came back with a vengeance -- and if you ask Eric, the teenage mood swings did too.

Honestly, I didn't see major results until a Wii Fit came to live with us. I wasn't even that dedicated (ok, in the beginning I was, mostly because it was fun. And no, they didn't pay me to write that.) In the last 10 months, I felt like I was thinner. My clothes gaped a bit, but the numbers on the scale weren't living up to my expectations. I revamped my lunch and breakfast menus and put myself on a strict snack at school diet (nuts, not chocolate!).

As all the rumors have alluded to, I too found the last five pounds to be the worst. Months went by with me checking the scale and seeing no movement. When Eric commented about how I was watching how much I ate for dinner about six months ago I knew I was getting there.

Finally this morning at the onc's office (my nurse said I looked thinner just before I stepped on the scale and I rolled my eyes at her), success. Three of the last five pounds had disappeared, as if by magic. I was almost more excited about that than I was the fact that my chest x-ray was normal. Ok, I think I actually AM more excited about that...

For me, I know it's not about the weight. It's really not. I have friends who struggle with weight continually and I know for them watching me freak out about 20 pounds is annoying, maybe even insulting. So please understand, it's not the numbers. Getting back to my pre chemo weight just makes me feel more like myself again. A survivor, not a patient. I am once again in control of what my body does and looks like -- well, mostly. : )

So Mom, yes, I HAVE lost weight. And I love you more than ever for noticing.
Carpe diem.
Trela

Onc Again

I guess it's a sign of my relative peace of mind that it's 9:45 the night before my next oncology appointment and I'm just now sitting down to write about it. I have my quarterly check tomorrow at my "local" doc's office -- just a chest x-ray and some labs, and of course the usual poking and prodding. I almost forgot about it. In fact, I DID forget about it as this appointment was supposed to have been the week after my last Mayo appointment -- ooops!

It may seem redundant (and you're currently thinking, "didn't she JUST do all kinds of tests?) and you're right. But it's not. Though I've had MRI's a-plenty, not a single test at Mayo looked at my lungs, and that's the purpose of the x-ray. Also, apparently it's a good idea for an actual oncologist to peer at me now and again... woo hoo!

We expect absolutely nothing out of the ordinary but I felt it was still a good idea to cover my bases and alert the troops. Thank you, in advance, for the positive thoughts and prayers.

Carpe diem.
Trela

Pumpkin Carving Extravaganza '09

You are invited to

The Rottinghaus' 7th Annual
Pumpkin Carving Extravaganza

Friday, October 30th

In the Barn

Chili Supper at 6pm
Carving from 7 to 8:15
Judging follows

As always,
BYOP (Bring Your Own Pumpkin)
and a snack to share.

Hope to see you there!
Carpe diem. - Trela

Vive Le Lance!

If the day after you tell one of your oldest friends (and Hodgkin's survivor) that you have cancer and he tells you, "welcome to the club. Now get over it," your tone sort of changes.

The wallowing, self-pitying, curl up on the couch and wait for the end to come thoughts you may have had become terrified and scurry to the far reaches of your mind. That cements it, really. Despite setbacks and tests and appointments galore, if you take his advice, you don't really have a choice. You move forward. Fast. And with energy, even on the days you don't have any. You move if for no other reason that you're maybe a little scared your friend may show up in your driveway and beat you. Ok, not really, but you get the idea...it's a big motivator.

That's kind of what tomorrow is about. October 2nd is the anniversary of Lance Armstrong's very serious cancer diagnosis. I latched onto the LIVESTRONG ideal from the beginning, not only because his bright yellow wristband is the sarcoma color, not because I look better in yellow than baby pink (though surprisingly, I do), but because his attitude and stickwithitness inspired me. Does that sound cheesy? That's ok. Cheese is yellow, too.

Not everyone loves Lance, but take it from me (and my oncologist), the attention that he has brought to a disease which one out of three Americans will be directly affected by is pretty darn impressive. Many forms of cancer are preventable. Other forms don't have to be life-threatening if they are caught early enough and treated correctly. Regardless of the statistics and soapboxes and insurance and medical issues, there's one simple fact: cancer sucks -- yellow is pretty. (I guess that's two simple facts, whatever, I don't teach math).

So, wear yellow on October 2nd to show your support for people everywhere affected by cancer -- people who might need just a LITTLE more encouragement to LIVESTRONG.

We could all use a little more sunshine.

Carpe diem. Trela
(and if you're interested or need to pass it on, click this for a link to the Lance Armstrong Foundations Manifesto... it just might be exactly what someone you know needs to hear)

They Implanted a Super Hero Clip

In my last post I mentioned the new piece of metal jewelry adorning my insides. I had a few questions so thought I'd delve into the issue a bit more.... After my biopsy, with the guide needle still in position, the radiologist inserted a cute little ribbon-like piece of metal into the biopsied spot. This will serve as a marker on future MRI's and mammograms so that if there's an issue in the future they'll know where they've already looked and tested. Apparently these come in several different shapes (curly q's, boxes, etc.) but mine is in the shape of the awareness ribbon. I teased my radiologist that it was actually a clip that would give me super powers -- he said, "what powers do you want?" (because he's cool and played along with me despite the fact that he scoffed at my Superdawg suggestion after asking me how to spend his upcoming weekend in Chicago...Focus, Trela.) I told him of course I wanted to be able to fly, see (legitimately) out of the back of my head, and naturally, cure cancer. : )

Anyway, all's well that ends well, and it appears my superpowers are well in tact -- Mayo called Eric this afternoon to confirm our hopes -- my biopsy revealed some sort of fibrocystic issue that is definitely NOT cancerous. No malignant cells to be seen! It will be monitored with semiannual MRI's (so we're doubling the frequency of them), but no other changes need to be made to my regimen.

I so appreciate all of your kind thoughts, words, and prayers since this issue reared its head in July. Many of you have commented on my strength throughout this -- if you are reading this, you are the reason I am strong.

Carpe diem.
Trela

Mayo Day

No surprise, my morning started with a scheduled ultrasound and unscheduled biopsy. What was a surprise was the location of the area in question -- much higher and closer to the center of my chest than we'd thought. No wonder it didn't show up on the mammogram -- it probably didn't even make the range of film. If I have to have another mastectomy I'm going to have delicious visible scars on BOTH sides..... (And I found out that when I type "biopsy" into my cell phone as a text message it comes out "choppy." Interesting.)

My radiologists didn't give me the "Oh, THERE it is," or "YIKES, I see what they're talking about" kind of reaction I'd steeled myself for. Instead they said they didn't really know (is it odd that at one of the best health care facilities in the world I actually feel BETTER when they DON'T know?). They opted for biopsy to be on the safe side. (And probaby my oncologist would have insisted anyway, that's just his nature.) I killed about an hour with a radiology tech and her sidekick nurse (we watched You Tube's baby dancing to Beyonce... seriously). They were amused by me. The doctor who actually did the biopsy asked me if I was in the medical field after I answered all of his questions -- score for smart Trela!

Biopsy was a core -- medium sized hole and they took ten "clicks" or samples (it clicks when they punch it out). They also inserted a marker so that later they can know exactly what area they've examined more closely. I'll wear ice and take tylenol for a bit but other than that no biggie. Had another mammogram just to record the marker after that and then we were free for lunch (amazing, almost never happens on our Mayo days!).

Met with my onc at 1:15... he pretty much said he's leaning toward this NOT being an angiosarcoma. What?!?! That doesn't of course rule out ANOTHER form of cancer (what?!?!?!), but he said it's pretty deep for an angio... didn't know that was a guideline, but we know now. He showed us the MRI and we, too, could see the area pretty clearly. We'll know results from the biopsy on Friday or Monday, but he's obviously hoping it's benign. Even if it is, we're definitely going to step up my MRI schedule and do another in 6 months (if not an additional one right away). Hate that stupid tube!

Sorry we don't have more to say at this point, let's all hurry up and wait! We're currently waiting to be seen by my specialist, but are pretty sure she won't have much to add...even though her brogue will be delightful, I'm sure.

Carpe diem. -- Trela