Another NEW year, celebrate WITH me!

I don’t know why this date always sticks out, because I don’t recall the exact day I found out I had cancer.  However, I do remember it was April, I’d just come back from an expo with my sons, my mother had died of brain cancer in January, I was selling my house in Southern California, I was finishing up my lengthy divorce that had taken over six years, and I was very, very sick.  I couldn’t breathe.  It was a Wednesday when I got in to see the doctor.  On Thursday I had x-rays, on Friday I went in for a biopsy…I was awake for the surgery where they removed the lymph nodes in my neck…it was gross because I could see the entire procedure on the shiny light above me, I couldn’t move from the anesthetic paralysis they had put me in, but they wanted me to talk to them, you know, in case they hit my vocal chords?

I’d been sick for a year, I knew it, as a woman, as a mother, and as someone who feels things very intrinsically.   I ignored it.  Why?  I was trying to raise two boys.  They were, when I found out my prognosis, aged twelve and ten.  I was also trying to run two businesses, one of them internationally and it was growing exponentially.  I was also trying to maintain two households.  I had a house in Huntington Beach, CA and another that I was renting in Los Osos, CA.  Then, my mother started behaving oddly.  She was living in our house in Huntington Beach and I was ‘home’ for the weekend.  I remember the first sign vividly in October of 2000 as it still hurts, even though she didn’t mean it, and it was so out of character for her.

We were watching some TV and a commercial came on about abuse.  A woman of about forty was yelling.  You would assume by what she was yelling that she was saying it to kids, abusing them.  Then the camera panned out to show a little old lady, practically cringing away from yelling woman.  I was horrified.  I turned to my mother and told her how much that commercial upset me.  Not that it was okay if it was children she was yelling at, neither was it okay to yell at a defenseless older woman.  My mother looked at me almost blankly for a moment and said, “Well, what do you think you do to me?”  I stared at her in the same horror that I had felt at seeing that commercial.  I gasped.  I also defended myself.  I said, “I would never speak to you in that manner!”  She had raised me correctly and she knew I would NEVER raise my voice to her.  She subsided after that.  I, however, realized something was wrong.  My wonderful, kind, and patient mother was behaving irrationally, that was the ‘first’ incident that I was aware of.

In November of that year, I bought another house, this time in Los Osos, CA, across the bay from Morro Bay, CA, so we could all live under one roof again.  It had to have a fenced in yard since we had two dogs, five cats, two growing boys, and my mother and I, as well as near enough to my warehouse in Morro Bay.  We were all elated as I signed the paperwork.  I had told no one as I didn’t want to jinx it until it was complete, good thing too as a week after I signed the seller changed their mind.  I felt horrible as my mother was so excited about us living together again.  She adored her grandchildren which she had helped me raise once I became a single parent.  I firmly believe that with her help they turned into better human beings than they would have it I had been completely alone for those years.

At Thanksgiving, I arranged to have someone else cook our dinner, I was too busy with work and picked it up.  We really enjoyed the meal and my mother was behaving oddly.  I kept asking her if she was okay the whole weekend before I had to get back to my other home and work up in Morro Bay.  It was a four-hour drive.

My mother knew my 1-800 number (it’s a free number to call businesses to those of you who don’t have that in your country) by heart and called me at least once a day, or I called her to check in.  A week or so before Christmas I couldn’t reach her.  I tried for days.  I had the police go do a ‘wellness’ check where they go pound on the door and ask the occupant if they are ‘okay.’  There was no response.  I finished up my Christmas rush of orders as fast as I could and headed down as soon as the boys were out of school for the day.  No one answered the door, my key worked, but the door was bolted.  I could, however, hear the dogs barking.  I had to lift my boys, one by one, over the back fence.  My biggest worry was that she had died in the house and they would find her, there was nothing I could do.  They went through the dogie door.  I went around to the front of our town home and they let me in.  My mother was sitting on the couch and was like, “Hi there!”  I was not amused, but I was relieved.

Fortunately, across the common area of our townhome complex lived my friend Jill.  She had been a nurse for years and I went to see her after we visited for a while at mom’s.  I asked her what I should do and she recommended I take my mother to the E.R. and tell them about her altered state, just as I had told her.  With that course in mind I went home and asked my mother when was the last time she had bathed.  Clearly, she could no longer take care of herself and this altered state of mind worried me.  Was she taking her meds?  Was she feeding the dogs?  I had regular orders of groceries delivered, part of our phone calls so I could just arrange that all the time.  Everything ‘seemed’ fine but I knew something was wrong.  She asked me if she stank, I assured her that she didn’t, but wondered if a bath would make her ‘feel’ better.  It did.  We had a delightful evening together, just like always.  The next morning, I took her to the E.R., she would never return home.

Getting her to the hospital alone was a nightmare.  I had one of those extended vans and she couldn’t get up in it.  I tried to lift her, but as we were about equal in weight and height, that didn’t work.  Then, her colostomy bag broke and we had to clean her up.  It took two HOURS to get her out the door and to the E.R. which was about ten minutes away.  I felt so bad as though I had failed her as a daughter.  I hadn’t, but I felt that way.

They kept her because based on my description of her behavior, they ran a scan and found a brain-tumor.  The doctor was eager to operate.  I could imagine my mother’s horror at the idea.  She was a very conscientious and particular person…about the way things should and shouldn’t be done.  She was very classy, very dignified.  She’d already survived thyroid and colon cancer, she would not want her head shaved and them digging into her brain.  The tumor had metastasized already but not from her other two cancers.  I have a theory that when she went in for her regular checkup in June, that they found out about the tumor, and she chose not to tell me.  She chose to let it go.  I decided then and there, knowing my mother, that she wouldn’t want the brief amount of time the doctors would have given her with such a surgery.  She would want to go on, she was tired of fighting, she was tired of living, she would want to die with dignity.  We’d talked extensively over the years about her two cancers, her three strokes, and I knew her well enough to know what she would want and the decisions she would make if she could.  I refused to allow the surgery.  I told my mother who was lucid, but had short-term memory loss, my decision.  I wasn’t sure she was nodding because she trusted me or because she agreed with me.  After telling her three times that weekend that she was dying of a brain tumor, I was done, I wouldn’t tell her anymore.  It hurt too much.  This was Saturday when I admitted her, by Monday she was in a coma.  They said she would never awaken again and probably be dead by Thursday.  This was right before Christmas 2000.

My mother not only woke up again, she recognized me, my boys, and my brother when he visited.  Nothing like making a liar out of the doctors.  During the last days, she had a stroke.  She always thought she would die of a stroke since her mother had, so when she tried to ask me what was wrong with her and I couldn’t tell her again that she was dying of a brain tumor, I told her she’d had a stroke.  THAT she could understand and comprehend and it seemed to give her comfort.  She even tried, during the last days, to comfort me when I was crying about her dying.  She told me I would be okay, patting me on the stomach.  She was right, I would be okay.  When she slipped back into her coma a few days later, I told her to go on, don’t hang around for me, I would be fine, she raised a strong woman, and I loved her.  She died the next day on January 4, 2001.

Four months later in April I was dealing with my own prognosis and possible death.  It was terrifying for my two boys.  I tell you, if they didn’t exist, I probably would not have fought so hard.  The doctor told me if I did nothing that I would live maybe 4-5 months…and it wouldn’t be a very pleasant death, choking to death.  I became a human guinea pig.

You might wonder why I tell all this, part of it is to remember because I need to, to exorcise it from my psyche.  Part of it is to tell others that no matter how bad things are, you can do it, you can deal with it.  I write about strong women in my books because I am a strong woman, my mother was a strong woman, my grandmother was a strong woman, my great-grandmother was one too…so I come from a long line of strong women and that is what I know and write about.  Here’s a bit of trivia, I am the youngest daughter, of the youngest daughter, of the youngest daughter, of the youngest daughter…how is that for a legacy?  I have no daughters, lol

No matter what you go through, what you may go through, you can do it…I firmly believe that the fates, that a higher power, God if you believe, doesn’t give you ANYthing that you can’t handle.  So, celebrate with me that it’s been SIXTEEN years since that long-ago prognosis.  I’m here, I’m still publishing stories that I hope you all enjoy, AND there is more to come.

If you wish to read more about my cancer story, please click here, here, here, and for the first mention, here.

AND, as always, check out my website to look at all my amazing books!  (Click on the picture to be taken to the site)

crossing-quills-with-www-kannemeinel-com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I am a SURVIVOR!

Lymphoma-CancerThis is the time of year where I reflect on the fact that I am a Cancer Survivor.  I tell you this, not to get sympathy or pity, but to, I hope, give people hope.  I was given four or five months to live.  Today, I celebrate fifteen years of survival.  It hasn’t been a bed of roses, life never is, however, for those of you who have gone through it, you understand.  For those of you who are going through it, it can have a good outcome.  For those of you who might face it, don’t give up, there is always hope.

Something people don’t know is that four months before my own prognosis of Lymphoma, my mother died of brain cancer.  This wonderful, classy, and supportive woman had survived thyroid cancer and colon cancer.  She wasn’t able to beat the brain cancer.  None of these were related to the other, that is, they didn’t metastasize and move on to another part of her body.  She SURVIVED the two bouts clear and free…she made it to the five year mark each time.  My mother was my best friend.  She helped me raise my sons and influenced the men that they became.  I am the youngest of five children and she raised us all to be survivors.32583_1459142009508_402903_n

imagesCAZSC590I am a survivor.  I am here FIFTEEN years later after my death sentence, after having gone through the most horrible treatment, an experiment.  Essentially I took twelve months of chemotherapy in twelve WEEKS.  At the time I took the treatment it was an experimental treatment, it wasn’t out on the market for everyone to try.  I have since found out that it now a standard for cancer treatments.  I don’t recommend it to just anyone, it’s horrible, I won’t kid you.  Throwing up as you sit on the throne, your insides coming outside from both ends is never attractive.  It did however stop my tumors from growing.

I was told I had tumors on both side of my neck.  The biopsy they did on the right side has left a scar in the crease of my neck…not too visible unless you are looking for it.  They decided instead of just a biopsy to remove all the lymph nodes that day.  I saw each moment of it as I wasn’t completely under and could see in the shiny reflection of the metals of the light above me.  I could also feel the tugging as they pulled them out.  It was gross.  I also had a four-inch tumor over my heart and lungs.  I also had one under my under arm.  The chemotherapy stopped the growth.  Fortunately for me I only had lymphoma in the upper part of my body, had it been throughout the prognosis would have been even more dire.

I chose the Stanford Five Protocol because I really had no other choice.  Had I done nothing I would have choked to death.  At a mere thirty-four years of age, with two children aged ten and twelve who had just lost their other parent, this did not appeal.

So today I celebrate with anyone who has beaten the odds.  Anyone who has gone through it, is going through it, or will go through it.  There is hope.  I’m convinced there is a cure (that’s a blog for another day about the pharmaceutical’s companies greed to keep us patients vs being cured).  So today I am a survivor!

GermanicI touch on it a little in my book Germanic, not exactly mind you, fictionalized of course.  I take real life experiences and put them into my books.  I hope you can relate and enjoy them.  I usually write about strong women who survive whatever life drama that is sent their way.  Whether you like or love my books, I hope they give you a story that stays with you.

Today, I am a SURVIVOR!

Original Post about what I went through.

Of TUMORS and HEALTHCHECKS

I’m not fond of doctors.  I don’t hold them in ethereal awe as all-knowing.  Instead, I think of them as a necessary annoyance.  You might ask why and I’ll tell you it is probably because I’ve had more poking and prodding than the average person should.

You see 14.5 years ago I was given a death sentence and while it was ‘only’ four to five months that I was to live, I chose instead to become a human guinea pig. (BLOG) As a result, I obviously survived.

Here’s the thing though when you survive.  They want to know WHY.   As a result they want you to come in at least once a month for that first year, twice a year after that, until finally it’s a health check once year.  I’m not the most patient of people and I didn’t go in for years.  As I get older though and other health concerns come up, I go in a little more frequently.

This last summer I had pneumonia.  In fact, those of you who met me in New Orleans for the Golden Crown Literary Society conference may not have known it but I was sick…very sick.  I hid it quite well, had a good time, but there is much about that conference I simply do not remember due to the way I was feeling.  When I got back from the trip I went directly to the hospital, I had the car rental guy drop me off there!  Walking pneumonia turned to viral pneumonia and that hung on for eight weeks!   The doctor called for a follow up visit a couple of weeks ago because pneumonia is one of those things that can come back easily.  So I went in on a Thursday in October for a chest x-ray.  They called me on Friday because there was an area of concern that they had seen over the summer that seemed to be worse and they wanted an MRI.  That MRI was Monday.  As I left, the technician said we will let you know in 5-7 days.  Well, anyone who knows me knows that I’m NOT going to wait that long for any test results.  I went across the medical center to my doctor’s office and asked if there was anything they could do ‘hurry this along,’ as it were.  I said the things going through my brain (yes I am imaginative) would be more damaging than anything physical they could do.  The doctor called two days later.

When you have a mass the size I did over my heart/lung (mine was four inches across) and they shrink it, the body has to fill that empty space.  As a result, calcium can fill it in.  Well this calcium was cause for concern.  Apparently she believed I ‘may’ have a two inch tumor in my heart (or so she said at first) in my aortic arch (whatever that is).  Looking such things up in Web MD, I do NOT recommend.  You will only find yourself ‘sicker’ than you believe with all that helpful information.  My doctor, who is one of the most thorough women you ever want to meet, was meeting with the x-ray people and others because they thought this two inch (whatever) was growing.  Only they thought it was in my lung, over the heart.  Well, I can be blunt and I called bullshit.  You know, knowledgeable and educated people of that caliber tend to be taken aback when you challenge them.  I’m challenging enough but I’m also educated and knowing about what has happened to me.  They wanted to wait three months to ‘see’ if it grew more, as we had from this last summer.  I happened to know that lung cancer is one of the fastest growing cancers there is and I wasn’t going to sit back and wait.  I told her so too.  I also challenged why all the other MRI’s and chest x-rays weren’t available for comparison.

Here’s the thing.  Where I live here in the Northwood’s, they have two health systems.  Apparently they don’t share information…unless you ask.  My doctor, while extremely competent, didn’t have all the information she needed to do the comparison.  I was convinced that the two inch ‘mass’ she was telling me about was a shadow, reduced from the four inch mass that had been there fourteen years ago.  I found it too much of a coincidence that in nearly the same place as I had a tumor before there was one now, it had to be scar tissue.  I told her so too.  So, she sent for the information.  If not from across town we were going to send to Stanford for the results of my experimental procedure and all the data that we could get to compare…before and after.  This all takes time.  As I mentioned before I am not the most patient of people.

I told a few friends, but I also stated, I’m not fighting if this is what they think it is…you see, I fought so hard when I was younger and it took everything out of me.  That procedure was so horrible, I was so sick, that I don’t even want to remember it.  Much of it I have blocked out and forgotten.  I don’t want a repeat of it, in any form.  So, I’ve already made my decision.  I won’t fight it if the fates give me cancer again because I don’t have it in me to fight it again.

Fortunately I didn’t have to make that dire decision.  I was right.  I don’t like saying ‘I told you so,’ I really don’t, but in this case…  The doctor called today to tell me the ‘mass’ is indeed the shadow, the scar tissue from old.  I’m terrible about scarring on the outside, I can imagine what I’m like on the inside where all this went on.  It’s been a rough couple of weeks I’ll tell you, but I got a lot of tears and lot of thoughts out of the way.  It’s amazing how much you introspect when something like this happens to you.  So I’m here for a while yet, to tell more of my stories, to annoy my friends (lol), and to keep going…until next time!

I once wrote about my cancer by giving one of my characters my cancer and some of what I went through. I didn’t have to embellish it, it was dramatic enough.  If you want to read that story, please check out my book GERMANIC here on my website at www.kannemeinel.com.  I recently upgraded my website, take a look around, it’s fantastic what technology can do!

See you around cyber!