worth repeating

On Monday I got a call from my doctor with good news that couldn't be elaborated on over the phone.

On Tuesday I went for a follow-up appointment and learned that the official diagnosis was a ruptured milk duct. After all that. However, I questioned why there was no mention in the report of fibroadenoma, as the first biopsy had indicated. My doctor thought it was a little strange as well, and left to discuss with the Pathologist his findings in more detail. He hadn't come in to work yet so my doctor said she'd investigate and give me a call back.

This morning I learned that the cores of tissue that the pathologist reviewed were in fact all ductal and breast tissue, which means that the tumor was missed entirely. The radiologist biopsied healthy breast tissue, and nothing else. I was told that sampling error is rare, but I'm a little suspicious as to how it is possible that the lump, which is not small, was not sampled at all.

All of this to say that I will need to have the procedure repeated.

I'm annoyed. I don't want to miss another week at the gym. I don't want to orchestrate another herculean feat of scheduling in order to be sure that Roscoe is cared for at home, and that I have a helper to accompany me with Merritt to my appointment. I don't really want to go through the procedure again and I definitely do not want to get a milk fistula--I felt lucky to have had the procedure once with no complications and I don't want to push it. Finally though, I don't want to be in limbo anymore. Not knowing affects me and it's hard not to think about it every day, especially when I spend every day with my boys.

Hopefully, I can schedule a repeat biopsy sooner rather than later.

Core Biopsy

Well timed, I read an article yesterday (You can still be a great mother, even if you can't breastfeed) that describes one woman's experience with breast cancer. The author shared a sentiment that helped me to make sense of my own feelings and find a place for my fixation to preserve my and Merritt's nursing relationship. She wrote: "When you're diagnosed with something really devastating, there's only so much you can hear. For me, it was that I couldn't breastfeed anymore. All I could think of was, 'what will I feed my baby?'"

Thank you to everyone who researched information for me, offered your contacts or your breast milk, and empathized with my torment over the last few months. If you want to catch up on the whole story you can read more sequentially here, here, here, and here.

All along I had hoped to know some thing that might illuminate what is the right thing to do in this situation. An impossibility, I found. In the end, there was no single piece of evidence that made the decision clear or easy. And I loosely debated right through dinner last night, as Andy and I devised a game plan for today.

Despite not finding the answer to whether or not I should proceed with a core biopsy, what I did find was my own confidence to persevere whatever side effects might come from the procedure. I've read accounts of women who nursed through milk fistula, for days, weeks, even longer, until they healed completely. I've read stories of moms who weaned as a result of a fistula, but who managed to nurse their baby effectively from just one breast. I've also read lots of happy endings where a core biopsy resulted in neither a milk fistula nor a cancer diagnosis.

When I spoke to my boss last week, who is both a physician and a public health expert, she encouraged me to trust my doctors--if the folks at the Betty Lou Ourisman Breast Center think that a biopsy is necessary, it is ok for me to put myself first and take care of what needs to be taken care of. She was confident that whatever might come after would be something that I could weather. I finally felt it too.

So, today when the ultrasound showed that the tumor continues to grow and that the cells inside are just as heterogeneous as they were a month ago, I consented to a core biopsy.

There were several things done to minimize the risk of a milk fistula, and to remain sensitive to my intentions to feed Merritt. I can share details in a later post for any of you who may be going through something similar and who might find it helpful.

Otherwise, the procedure was smooth sailing. Post op instructions dictate no heavy lifting for at least 48 hours--that includes the kids, I was told, but not much I can do about them!--and ice and compression for the first 24 hours. I nursed Merritt on the affected side five hours after the biopsy without issue. The wound is dressed with Tegaderm, so I really can't tell what's going on under there but, so far, there is no indication of any milk leaking or moisture. Fingers and toes crossed.

I have follow-up next Wednesday, which will hopefully mark the end and not a beginning.

Monday

It's been a day of no naps around here. So I turned my frown upside down with these:

Next up, a car trip for ice cream.

Brothers (and sisters)

When Roscoe wants to hold Merritt he first demands the boppy, then lifts his shirt. I think he thinks that's just what you do when you hold a baby.

Their relationship is just (finally) beginning to bloom. Roscoe's getting the hang of this whole big brother thing. He's better able to show a little restraint when it comes to the very physical and very emotional energy that he holds for and directs at Merritt.

I know this is true because there are a lot more kisses and far fewer hits to the head.

Another sweet sentiment: Roscoe has recently owned Merritt as his. He tells me daily. Merritt is Roscoe's little brother. Merritt plays right along doling out the biggest grins and shrieks of happy at the smallest increment of Roscoe's attention. I can't get enough of them--when they are adoring each other, anyway.

He's also realized that "Roscoe doesn't have a baby sister," and for the past two nights he's been searching for her throughout the house. Andy and I have taken note.

Who wants to join me?

August 13th is Can-It-Forward Day.

We've taken up the locavore scene in our area and it seems that eating seasonally goes hand in hand with knowing how to put up food for the winter.

We buy our meat from a farmer who owns Walnut Hill Farm at Elm Springs in Falmouth, Va. Every Sunday, under his tent at the farmer's market, I pick Jeff's brain on topics that range from the seasonality of chicken, to harvest routines, and even the feasibility of buying half of a cow for our freezer. Jeff is a kind man, and doesn't seem to mind my naivete. This past weekend when I mentioned an interest in learning how to can food he generously offered to teach me how to do it. A canning 101 class, you could say. And he told me to bring a friend or two to make it legit.

If you're curious about what canning is all about, and want to learn from a seasoned pro, AND you're up for a field trip to a farm to get your canning on, let me know. We're meeting up in the early morning of August 15th. I'm bringing boxes of peaches, tomatoes, and string beans (and whatever else I can find at the farmer's market on the 14th), along with a few crates of canning jars. I'm inviting you to do the same.

This is an exciting opportunity, and it's free! Leave a comment or send me an email at marblesrolling@gmail.com if you're interested and I'll share the details.

A funny story

Merritt was supposed to be an Aries, due April 8. To complement the space theme we stenciled the Aries zodiac on his nursery wall, among other constellations.

Two of his Grandmothers, Tippy and Nan, each cross stitched a zodiac for the room as well--a Taurus for Roscoe and an Aries for Merritt.

The zodiac was such an integral aspect of his nursery design that it dawned on me a few hours after Merritt was born, the details with which we had personalized his space in the house were now inaccurate. As it turns out Merritt was born a Pisces.

So his Tippy cross stitched a Pisces replacement and I planned to get the three constellations framed as part of Merritt's story.

A few months went by and while we were at the beach this Summer, Nan pointed out that she wasn't so sure that Merritt was a Pisces, after all. She was confident that he was an Aries, which I disputed, but conceded that I may have been wrong considering my state of mind at the time that I did my initial research.

I double checked a few days ago and, to my dismay, Merritt is neither an Aries nor a Pisces.

Born on February 18th he is an Aquarius. Sigh.

Nonetheless, we have two very lovingly cross stitched signs adorning Merritt's wall.

Soak it up

Roscoe discovers how to jump off the bed at 8:50 on a Summer morning.

Here's the deal

After over a year of debate and conversation dedicated to the housing market and our current mortgage we finally decided to throw our caution, fears, and regrets to the wind and put our house up for sale.

Just to see what might be possible.

We bought our home in 2006 just as the market began to crash. We sold our first house and moved into our second ignoring the recommendation of our mortgage broker who, at the time, was making his best effort to discourage us from buying.

We should have taken the hint.

Over the last 5 years the value of our home has depreciated. It is now worth close to 150,000 less than what we bought it for.

Depressing.

We're about to own the worst financial decision that we've ever made. We're short-selling this house and we made it official on Tuesday.

There are so many reasons why we want to move, I mentioned some of them last year in a tour of homes post.

We've now lived in this house for almost 4 years, and when the market turned our mortgage flipped upside down. In truth, we do not love living in the suburbs. And we especially dislike paying an inflated mortgage! We've realized through this experience that we are city folk, and that we thrive on access to good food, entertainment, and culture, and that we HATE long commutes, traffic jams, and not having outdoor spaces in which to stretch our legs.

If we could do it all over again, hands-down we would choose an older, smaller house closer to where we like to work and play. Especially now that we have children to consider. There's nothing worse than having the world at your fingertips (i.e., Washington DC adventures), but finding yourself trapped behind 2 hours of bumper to bumper traffic. We would love the opportunity to have an intimate relationship with the area in which we live, and to explore our community on foot. Furthermore, it would be awesome to live in an area where a true sense of community actually existed.

While those reasons are still true--save a few of the details--they aren't the reasons we're taking action now.

In short, we've come to terms with the fact that this house just wasn't a good investment. Yeah, we bought it to live in it, not just to make money, but still. It's a money suck that will require years before it is even worth what we paid for it.

We're cutting our loses and moving on.

Of course, the bank has the final say, but the hard part is over--the house is under contract--now we just wait.

With the prospect of not being tied to any one place, or tied down by a comical mortgage payment, we will be free to follow bigger dreams. I cannot wait!