Created while in 'Cancer and Creativity Art Therapy Workshop'
Presented by Premiere Oncology Foundation and Beckstrand Cancer Foundation.
Instructor: Esther Dreifuss-Kattan, PhD, ATR
The Highs and Lows of Leg Pain
Michelle Leddel
June 2009
flannel, yarn, paper, glue
approx. 14 x 17 inches
Note: See Blog, "The Next Specialist," August 23, 2009
Created while in 'Cancer and Creativity Art Therapy Workshop'
Presented by Premiere Oncology Foundation and Beckstrand Cancer Foundation.
Instructor: Esther Dreifuss-Kattan, PhD, ATR
When I was under going treatment for breast cancer five years ago, I imagined the hardest event for me to experience was receiving chemotherapy infusions (IVs).
In the process of having a stereotactic needle biopsy, wire placement, surgical lumpectomy, and 36 radiation treatments to my left breast, I missed out of the dreaded chemotherapy drugs and the rumored, not-so-pleasant side effects. By taking Arimidex® pills once a night for nearly five years post surgery, I was following the course of being cancer-free, so I believed.
However, 1½ years ago, with the detection and removal of a soft tissue sarcoma tumor below the skin of my thigh, I again missed out of needing chemotherapy. Surgery and radiation were all the doctors ordered.
The month following the sarcoma diagnosis, the third and unrelated to the earlier cancers, was determined through a diagnostic abdominal laparoscopy and laparoscopic biopsy.
Now, thirteen months later, after fourteen (14) chemotherapy infusions for peritoneal cancer, I’m giving loving, e-mail guidance to a dear relative who had her first chemotherapy treatment last week.
Note to the reader: The photograph of a basket with clipboards and paper was taken in "Writing Workshop" at the Wellness Community. Today twelve cancer survivors all addressed variations of the prompt, “The hardest emotional moments for me are…”
Hair Chronicles on Canvas
Michelle Niña Jeannette Leddel
The opportunity to share my life through the length and styles of my hair seems important,
now that it is growing back
People have asked if I ever had long hair - Yes, during my college years
And, did I ever have short hair, of course
But the days of NO Hair in the summer of 2008 has had a profound impact
Thanks for being part of my life
Hair Chronicles on Canvas
acrylic paints on canvas
about 8 x 8 inches
May 2009
A NOTE ON THE IMAGES:
top left - baby, first hair
top center - short curly hair as child. There were times it was longer but difficult to manage.
top right - teenager with makeup and 'bubble hair style,' an attempt to straighten my hair
center left - hair style of the late 60's and early 70's
center center - hair loss after chemotherapy (aka, Chemo #1). I tried to always wear make-up.
center right - hair started to grow back but I kept my head covered with scarves and hats. Make-up continued to be important to apply on a daily basis.
bottom left - wig that I bought to match my hair, but I didn't wear it. I looked too old.
bottom center - The free wig I selected from the American Cancer Society. This was fun to wear and the only one of three that I wore.
bottom right - Will my hair come out again with the next cancer-killing drugs? I wonder.
There have been numerous experiences in my life that have been based upon waiting. Some of these have faded into emotionless spaces and others bring strong, overpowering feelings.
For example, I don’t remember the days and hours I had to wait until my four younger siblings were born over sixty years ago. But I can visualize the endless moments I had to wait until I proclaimed, “I do!” in front of my family, friends and husband-to-be.
More recently are the anxiety provoking days of waiting for biopsy pathology reports. In the end, the waiting resulted in the answers to the signs and symptoms in my breast, thigh, and abdomen/pelvis during the past five years.
Less frequently, but equally important, blood was drawn from my arm to determine how my body was responding to the cancer killing drugs directed to the disease in my abdominal/pelvic region. For over a year, the cancer antigen 125 blood test (CA-125) guided the treatment team, my supporters, and myself. We have been distressed as the CA-125 results increased and overjoyed as the CA-125 numbers decreased. Since my last CA-125 test was last week and the results were fantastic, meaning the numbers were reduced by 2/3 of the previous test, I am out of the immediate wait-zone.
The plan now is to let the chemo do its job and retest the CA-125 in about a month. At that time a CT scan will be ordered, scheduled, and completed. And, depending on the day of the week I have the CT scan on my torso and upper leg, I will have to wait through the weekend for the results, or I will get the results on the following day.
Most recently, a magnetic resonance image (MRI) study was ordered by my newest specialist, the sarcoma oncologist. The pain in my thigh, once the site of a malignant, soft tissue tumor (sarcoma), needed to be investigated. The MRI was done on Monday and I would not get the results until my Friday appointment with the sarcoma oncologist. This delay was because the Tumor Board was scheduled to review my case on Thursday, and a pathologist was going to review my biopsy slides during the week.
On Wednesday, two days after the MRI, the doctor who has been treating my leg for the lymphedema swelling, called me. With the MRI study in her hand, she informed me that, “…there was something peculiar…” in the report and I was not to return to her until I was given a clearance from the MRI ordering doctor. End of conversation. That meant two days of concerned, frightened, emotionally heightened waiting.
Thursday, four days after the MRI, I was speaking to my oncologist of five years who is treating me for breast and abdominal (peritoneal) cancers. He too received the MRI results and said, “It looked good.”
Right! He said, “It looked good,” but when he realized I had not yet spoken with the doctor who ordered the MRI, no details were discussed. That is the responsibility of the ordering doctor, I’ve learned.
The emotional swing from fear, rejection, comfort, and fear continued until the Friday appointment with the doctor who ordered the MRI, the sarcoma specialist.
The results, in brief: 1) Sarcoma soft tissue tumor has not returned, 2) Age-related degeneration is in the lower spine, 3) Evidence of old knee injury, 4) Swelling behind the knee, and 5) A 1.6 cm spot (“area of increased signal”) in the area of the hip ball-and-socket joint.
A biopsy for the spot was discussed, but in as much as I will be having a CT scan in about a month to monitor the progress of the chemotherapy, the same CT scan should now include the monitoring of the 1.6 cm spot.
As I look to the immediate future, depending on the results of the next two finger-stick blood tests, the next administration of Doxil® will be in less than two weeks.
We will have to wait as the chemotherapy drug works throughout my body.
We will wait until the results of the next blood tests and CT scan are known.
Wait is a power-driven word.
September 5, 2009
Santa Monica, California
