Mammogram Time

Yep, that's right. I had my annual mammogram this morning. It'll be an annual event until I die or have my right breast removed.

It's the crap a breast cancer survivor faces.

I was in and out in roughly a half hour. A nice young lady named Michelle took the pictures and ran back to speak with the radiologist. Part of that half hour is giving the radiologist a chance to check my pics and compare them to the last several sets. Make sure there's no hinky business that need a further exam by ultrasound, a needle biopsy, or a core.

With the ultrasound, I only get slimed. The other two hurt like a mother.

Even though the mammogram is an annual, expected event, the fear comes out. The night before, I lay awake in bed and wonder if this will be the time the medical team will find something again. No matter what I do, what techniques I try, what sleep aid I take, rest doesn't come.

I went to the diagnostic center on four hours of sleep this morning. Luckily, it's only a mile from our house. If I didn't have to cross a major highway, I could walk there.

A couple of hours after I got home, I was out cold in my recliner. The exhaustion from fear eventually catches up with me.

I just wish I could avoid the fear.

Troll I.Q. and Cancer Awareness

Last Saturday, some troll decided to report a couple of my blog posts for violating the Blogger Content Policy.

Like I don't have enough shit going on right now.

The first one was when I mentioned F**Life in comparing complaining writers with masochists. It's not like I put a link to that particular website. And if you have any inkling of the BDMS lifestyle, you already know which adult site I'm referring to.

The second one I'm still trying to figure out. It talked about the Kickstarter campaign for the documentary about sff writer Jay Lake (may he rest in peace) and his battle with colon cancer. The only bad thing was the f-bomb.

Guess what? I will always refer to that disease as "fucking cancer" forever more. On more than one post. Because I've had it. So has my husband, both of my parents, one of my grandmothers, and more friends than I wish to count.

By the way, I've got this year's mammogram appointment, but I still self-check.

Check those boobies, ladies! The earlier your cancer is discovered, the more likely you won't have to have a mastectomy like me

All's Quiet, Maybe Too Quiet

Don't expect another post from me until Monday, except music videos on Saturday nights. We received the last of the 1099 documents I'd been waiting on, and I've got to get the tax info sorted and to our CPA.

And to top things off, our CPA sent out an e-mail to his clients today that he'd been diagnosed with cancer, but we are in capable hands with his staff.

Don't get me wrong. DH and I trust his staff implicitly, but it prompted a discussion of what do we want to do should our CPA's firm shut down.

We're simply at that age, and most of our professional contacts are, too. Two dentists have retired on us in the last ten years. I'm trying to figure who to name as my alternate trustee to my literary trust should something happen to DH. GK isn't interested, at least, not now. Most of the friends I trust are my age or older. That leaves two younger friends, one an attorney and one a CPA, to name as alternates. But what happens if they both say no?

And don't even get me started on looking for another doctor! Or three, in my case.

But on the good news front, and depending on the results of my upcoming mammogram, I will officially hit the five-year mark for my breast cancer in April. And if I'm still cancer-free, that will be the end of having to take tamoxifen as a preventative.

So, DH and I are sending a "F*ck Cancer" mug to our CPA. From two cancer survivors to another. Cancer sucks!

A Very Special Message from Deadpool

Since I had my oncology check-up today (everything's good!), here's one of my favorite Deadpool videos.

Sleep Adjustment

My sleep is all over the place lately, but last night, I was tired enough to go to bed at the same time as DH. We'll see if I can continue the trend through this weekend. I need to be back on a day person's schedule for the next three months because it's that time again.

Yep. It's cancer check-up time.

Ugh.

Year Four of this shit. One more year to go. Provided something doesn't show up on my scans.

People think I'm being political when it comes to wearing a mask. Nope. I haven't gone through all this cancer crap to die from the common cold's ugly cousin. I've lost friendships because I don't want to die.

*Sigh*

Let's see if I can get some words in before I accidentally take a nap.

Oops! And a PSA

Things have been a little busy around Casa Harden the last couple of days, so I haven't gotten much writing, editing, or publishing done. Sad to say it had nothing to so with this week's mammogram.

However, a plan has been put in place to get Darling Husband out of the house for a few hours tomorrow so I can get some of my own work done.

In the meantime, here's a PSA for you ladies from a breast cancer survivor who found hers via a self-exam. Check those boobies!

Coronavirus Pandemic Day 54 - I Forgot My Cancerversary

DH pointed out there may be another reason for my insomnia. My second cancerversary was on April 19th.

With all my medical appointments getting canceled with the state shut-down and my own worry over friends who've caught the damn virus, I actually forgot. But my Subconcious didn't.

Now that the governor is easing certain restrictions, my health care providers are rescheduling my appointments. So, of course, I start my first Monday in May with a mammogram.

Maybe that's where a boatload of my constant anger is coming from. I did everything right to deal with one disease, only to face another one that could be just as deadly. One of the reasons I got through the cancer shit was reading and researching. Talking to my healthcare providers about options and percentages. Feeling like I had some control over my care and my future.

And then, like a sneaky little bastard, COVID-19 races around the world, doing weird shit. You have no idea when it's going to hit. Your only preventatives are hand-washing and face masks. And those aren't 100% effective because half the Goddess-damned country thinks it's a hoax or that it won't affect them.

*sigh*

So I'll handle what I can and post naughty pictures to let off steam. I hope the rest of you have a much better Monday.

It Does't Feel Like Spring

Happy Beltane!

I can't blame all of my feeling of being in solitary confinement on COVID-19. Our so-called spring has been so wet and the pollen so thick, it's uncomfortable as hell for me to step outside. And it's difficult to blow your nose with a damp tissue.

My sneezing also alarms the neighbors.

Yesterday, I was able to make an appointment to visit a gift shop. I'm terribly late sending a friend a birthday present. They were selling face masks made by a local craftswoman, and I bought one with ladybugs on it because I needed something summer-y to brighten my day.

Alas, that is my only excursion that was remotely fun I will have any time soon.

My medical appointments are starting up again as providers have figured out procedures to keep both patients and staff safe. I can't say I've missed being poked, prodded and stabbed over the last two months.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that reopening the nation doesn't result in a jump in COVID-19 infections, but I'm well aware that's highly wishful thinking on my part. But just as my oncologist will be continuing my appointments because he has to presume I still have cancer until proven otherwise, I will have to continue to quarantine.

It means a very long summer.

Wild, Wicked & Wacky Rewind from 2016

And 2016 wasn't much better than 2015. FYI--this post from February 17, 2016, has some swears.

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I haven't written for the last three days. Withdrawals are making me grumpy.

As I mentioned Monday, DH tried to be sweet and valentine-y on Sunday by taking me out for dinner and a movie. The one positive thing this week, even though the movie didn't live up to what we had hoped.

Monday was the truly sucky part. I took DH's dad (aka Papa) to a second opinion appointment in Toledo. Bless the doctor, he tried to make it as easy as possible on Papa, but he confirmed there is a tumor. I will subsequently refer to the tumor as Muffy because DH's family frown on me calling it Mother Fucker.

The confirmation meant being emotionally supportive for Papa for a few extra hours. (Not Muffy, however. Muffy can go to hell as far as I'm concerned.) I think some part of him believes since I got DH through his cancer, I'll get him through his.

By the time I got home Monday evening, I was exhausted. I could barely chop up the ham to add to the soup beans. Thank goddess, I picked something easy to make for dinner. I curled up on the couch and watched the Grammys for the rest of the evening.

Yesterday, I tried to do something semi-productive after sleeping thirteen hours. I went through the 150 e-mails that had piled up over the last two weeks as we dealt with moving the in-laws into an assisted living apartment. One of the e-mails was a rather threatening one from Amazon saying that I need to turn on my Kindle's wi-fi NOW for an upgrade, or my Kindle becomes a paperweight.

Um, okay? I confirmed it was in fact from Amazon, but the help page regarding this required OS upgrade didn't have a lot of details, so I e-mail a couple of questions to Amazon.

For a company that prides itself on customer service, they have some of the most computer/device illiterate people on the face of the planet. Granted, I did ask a couple of technical question, but Jesus Heronius Christ! They should at least know how big the OS download is vs. the size of my 2nd Gen. Kindle's harddrive space!

The e-mail I received in reply made absolutely no sense, as if the CS person didn't bother to read my original e-mail. But, hey! Since I had trouble with the fucking upgrade Amazon would give me a $5 credit to buy e-books.

*facepalm*

Whatever was supposed to go through the wi-fi didn't work right (long story, won't bore you with the details) so I tried calling Amazon. The second CS person Raven didn't listen to me either. Because my issue was outside of her realm, she started to obviously read from a script. Then, she wouldn't let me get off the phone because she hadn't finished reading her fucking script!

Yeah, I know. I should have just hung up. *sigh*

Anyway, I backed up my Kindle and figured out how to do the manual upgrade before I got the e-mail from Raven with the links to the manual upgrade's download.

As for my poor abused 2nd Gen Kindle, so far, so good. Everything seems to be working. But if I wanted to be condescended to, I would have called Apple.

Or my mother.

After that, I curled up on the couch once again and binged on Supernatural and The Librarians.

Now, it's Wednesday. I printed off the 1099s, etc., from e-mails that I'll need for taxes. I'm going to Panera's in a little bit to see if I can get some writing done before I delve into to tax forms over the weekend.

And maybe later, I'll find something I want to read with that $5 credit that'll make me forget about Papa's upcoming surgery.

Yeah, cancer sucks far worse than Amazon on their worst days.

The Drag of Medical Appointments

It's that time of year for all the usual annual appointments. You know, eyes, heart, blood sugars, girl parts, etc. But all my providers are spending lots of extra time talking about the C-word.

Time I'd rather spend writing.

It didn't help when I was told I need to give up caffeine. Cthuludammit! It's the one vice I have left.

I admit I'm addicted. Coffee, diet cola, tea. And of course, I just bought a new bottle of Peppermint Mocha creamer. So yummy!

Otherwise, everybody says I'm doing fine. My scar itches because all of them want to poke and prod the area searching for new lumps. That's in addition to poking and prodding the remaining breast.

Thank goodness I only have one more appointment left, and it's two weeks away. I'll remind myself where I was a year ago if I EVER complain about the writing business!

Cancer-versary

I've been a little out of it this week. Even DH noted it at dinner Tuesday night. My body might be here on Earth, but my mind's in a galaxy far, far away.

It's the same weirdness that afflicts both of us in November when the date of DH's cancer diagnosis approaches. A combination of reflection and fear permeates every waking hour, even if we're not consciously aware of it.

I would much rather blame the head fuzz on the work schedule I created for this year. The second book of a series launched, I'm editing the third book in the same series, and I'm writing the third book in another series. But I'm not busy enough to clear the cobwebs.

Heck, I wish I could blame my distraction on allergies. Buds have exploded on the local trees, the grass is a lovely shade of green, and daffodils are blooming.

So I just need to be patient. Next week, the mind fuzz will pass. Spring is in bloom, and the weather is warming. I'm alive and healthy and happy. That's what I need to focus on.

New Release - Hero De Facto!

YES!! *fist pump* My first book in a year and a day is out!

Hero De Facto is now officially available on Amazon.

This is probably the best release in my life. Eleven months ago, I got some pretty bad news, and with each medical test, the news got worse. At one point, I wasn't sure if I'd ever finish writing another book.

So I'm simply grateful to be here, writing and publishing again.

And guess what? Y'all won't be guessing, "When the hell is she going to put out the next book?"

Yep, that's right! Hero Ad Hoc (888-555-HERO #2) is already up for pre-order on Amazon! I'm excited and tickled about being back on track. And I can't wait to see what readers think about this new world.

In the meantime, I'm polishing Book #3 and hope to have it up for pre-order before Hero Ad Hoc goes live.

Thank you to my family, friends, and medical personnel for getting me through the last year. And a special thank you to all you readers who waited patiently for me to get healthy again!

Hero De Facto Is About to Debut

It was a busy weekend at Casa Harden, even with the atrocious head cold I picked up.

The e-book version of Hero De Facto is currently up for pre-order on Amazon. It officially drops on March 15th. The trade paperback should be up soon, as well as the e-book pre-order for Hero Ad Hoc. Just need to polish Hero De Novo, then I'll settle back into Justice Anthea's world for the rest of the month.

I worked on the writing biz on Saturday, but Sunday, I had to get tax stuff done. It's a pain in the ass, but it's off to the accountant to plug things into his computer. I'm not holding my breath that we'll get a large refund, but it's one thing off my plate.

Next month, I know my headspace won't be there. April starts the annual round of checkups, but I'll be poked and prodded thoroughly thanks to the C-word.

But I'm getting my publishing groove back. That feels pretty damn good.

I'm Still Here!

It's been simultaneously busy and boring since I got out of the hospital.

Bills are starting to roll in just from the initial scans and biopsies from April and the first half of May. Despite having insurance, we're talking several thousand dollars worth of items with deductibles or stuff the asshole insurance company is flat-out refusing to pay for.

For example, United Health Care is trying to say any ultrasound or MRI is an "experimental" procedure. Mind you, lobular carcinoma is notorious for not showing up on x-rays.

So it's a matter for writing letters to challenge the UHC's bullshit. And calling various providers to set up payment plans.

Before anyone makes a comment about why we don't have savings, let me point something out--we did. We'd been saving for a down payment on a house. That's gone now, swallowed in the miasma of cancer treatment costs.

In the meantime, my typing was down to nil, thanks to my Jackson-Pratt drain. When the surgeon takes such a large swath of tissue, like in a mastectomy, fluid collects under the sown-up incision, especially blood and lymph fluids. My drain was a couple of inches beneath my left armpit. Unfortunately, there's no rhyme or reason for how long a person might need to keep the drain in. As my surgeon said, there's no correlation between age, gender, size, or type of surgery.

No worries, right? I could sit in my recliner with my laptop, right?

However, when I tried typing on my wip the second week after my surgery, my left arm would rub against the drain. Think of the type of rubbing of a new shoe that causes a blister on your foot. Within three days, the pain was unbearable. I had to stop. I even tried typing with just my right hand, but I'd get so immersed in the story, I'd start typing with both hands until the pain made me halt.

So I left my laptop on the desk, propped up my left arm, and watched too much TV.

The drainage petered down to where the surgeon felt comfortable pulling the drain on Monday. Yay! Freedom! I could write again without pain. And I did peck out a couple of pages Monday night.

However, my appointment with a oncologist here in town is next Monday, roughly four weeks from my surgery. I'm also looking to get a second opinion from an oncologist in Detroit. I don't know what's going to happen next. Radiation? Chemo? A combo of both? Neither?

Basically, I need to write (type) as much as I can over the next few days before the next step. But to be perfectly blunt, I'm reconsidering reconstruction after all the bullshit with the drains.

Music I've Been Listening to Lately

Zedd, Maren Morris, and Grey got me past the nausea from the MRI tracer. Thanks, guys!

F*CK CANCER!