February 10, 2009

The beauty that greeted me as I arose this morning took my breath away. Since moving to The Canyons we've been disappointed that whatever snowfall blanketed the rest of Prescott, bypassed our slightly warmer clime. But today I was delighted by this sight. The snow crystals capture the light of the rising sun and glisten. What a spectacular show. It has me singing and praising God for His Creation and for another day to enjoy it.

Shoyei and I met with our radiology oncologist last week and learned a little more about the next step. two weeks after my final chemo(which is 3 days hence, woohoo!), I will have a CAT scan. From the images produced Dr. Kuske will design a plan to pinpoint five radiation beams converging in such a manner as to avoid any damage to my heart and minimal exposure to my lung. It took no more than a minute with Dr. Kuske for us to decide he is the doctor we want. His credentials are impressive and he has just opened the first breast cancer specific oncology practice in the world(his words). It's called ABCs for Arizona Breast Cancer specialists.
From my writing journal: His presence speaks comfort. He is about 5'8", soft and pudgy and walks slightly pigeon toed. His blue eyes say "I care", his voice says "you can trust me". His manner is confident yet humble. Sandy hair, slightly long, curls at his neck. "I'm the guy who writes the textbooks," he says, matter-of-factly.

We've checked him out. He's received numerous awards. He is the doctor who designed the radiation seed method for breast cancer. It's less invasive and only takes a week of treatment but because the original size of my tumor was 5cm(large), I am not a candidate. I will receive 35 treatments. The drive is our issue but we've decided to deal with it for the privilege of being his patient. "Will my skin turn black?" Dr. Mosharaffa(plastic surgeon) mentioned this possibility which tells me he has seen this side affect. "You will end up with a Jamaican sunburn," he tells me. "I will bring you this close(holding up two fingers pinched together) to blistering and then stop." My mind flashes back to such a sunburn. I was lying on my back, my father's suntanning lamp aimed at my chest. I wanted a healthy tan for my senior prom dress. I whiled my time talking on the phone. My "tan" turned into a Jamaican sunburn with a telephone cord emblazoned across my chest. I can handle this, I think.

There's a lot ahead. I've never had a CAT scan and don't know what to expect as far as my claustrophobia. A cancer friend tells me I will receive a tattoo of little dots for the radiologist to aim at(is that a dreaded "dangling participle"?) to assure the beams are hitting the exact spot every time. Don't tattoos hurt? But, hey, sunburns and tattoos are done in the name of beauty every day, right? Someone else's idea of beauty, I muse.