Next week my WBR ends and chemo begins. I still don't know what regimen I will receive, and part of me doesn't want to know. So, I though I'd just ignore all of that and focus on a couple of good things that have come my way this week. Accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative...at least for today.
As many of you know, I am an art teacher in beautiful Northwest Arkansas. I am blessed to live in a state that actually mandates elementary art education for grades 1-6, which makes an amazing difference in the lives of thousands of children. I am thankful and proud to be a part of this wonderful profession.
Since NWA is now home to one of the premier art museums in the USA, Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, this is all even more impactful for these kids and their families.
However, due to this terminal diagnosis I have been dealt, my days of teaching art are very likely over. I will forever be an art teacher, though. The students, teachers, administrators, and other teaching professionals I work with and have met along the way have been a fabulous part of a very fabulous life. Can I say it again?...I am so thankful to be a part of this profession.
If you want to see a smidgen of what I do, then check out a great resource called "Artsonia". I really didn't begin using it until last year. If you Google me and Artsonia, you can see some of our projects from last year (remember - two schools: Walker and Shaw). For more on me and my kiddos, I also have a "Mrs. Brigman's Art Room" Facebook group. It's closed, but if you ask permission, I might let you in! Lot's of fun video and images there, too, and you get an idea of what goes on in some of my happy places. (I am not linking any of this here. I figure if you are interested enough, you can find it.)
So, where is the good news here? (other than it's good that I love my job.)
Well, art teachers have conferences, both state and national, and I am almost always a presenter at our state conference, which is not saying a whole lot. I do enjoy it, though. It's my small way of paying back a great state that takes care of their youngest artists. I do a bunch of extra planning, organizing, arranging for a sub, then I haul stuff in my van (usually with a few other art teachers in tow) to Little Rock in late October or so and present some fun hands-on activity, or a best practice discussion, or both. Always fun and rewarding. Arkansas art teachers are the best!
Back in the spring of this year, though, I actually submitted proposals to be a presenter at the National Art Ed Convention in March of 2014. This is a convention I have often attended, but never as a presenter. I have been fortunate to work in a district that makes this possible.
And, as perhaps you have guessed, my proposals for presenting two sessions were accepted this week. I received my congratulatory email from someone at NAEA, explaining that, and stroking my ego by telling me how many submissions there were and how few were accepted. It's in San Diego, which probably added to the submissions!
So, I was excited to get some good "normal" news this week! It does seem bittersweet, though. I am honored and excited about presenting, but at the same time realize that it may not happen. Right now, I am going to savor the thought of presenting in San Diego next March. I will be praying that I will get this cancer under control and be beyond the chemo and chemical sickness and feel good enough to do this. I sure am not going to turn them down yet!!
And, if you are curious about the titles of my two sessions, they are:
--Street Art: What Happens When You Teach 200 5th Graders How to Sculpt with Tape
--Facebook Groups: The Secure and Easy Way to Show Off Your Art Program
Sound fascinating, don't they? I think so!
And...why doesn't EVERYONE want to be an art teacher?? That's a question I've never understood.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Whole Brain Radiation
I wanted to share a bit about this bizarre procedure I am undergoing everyday for 13 days, not counting weekends.
My final day of WBR (whole brain radiation) is next Tuesday, August 13. On that day I will go from radiation, straight to "chemo class" and then to the infusion room for the first round of my systemic whole body poisoning.
As an aside, there is something called a "blood brain barrier" that prevents chemo from crossing over to the brain as it should. I have been told that WBR helps break down that barrier, which should make chemo more effective.
Today, I asked my radiation therapists to take a few photos of this procedure, just so you'd have some idea of this, my daily 9:50 occurrence. The whole procedure takes less than 10 minutes, once I am on the table and strapped down.
As an aside, there is something called a "blood brain barrier" that prevents chemo from crossing over to the brain as it should. I have been told that WBR helps break down that barrier, which should make chemo more effective.
Here is my miniscule understanding of how WBR works. If you are a medical physicist, or some such person, please forgive my shallow understanding, and feel free to comment and clarify in any way you can!
First of all, this is not a procedure for everyone, only those who have so may lesions on the brain, that treating individual spots is not possible. There are procedures known as CyberKnife or Gammaknife or, more generically, Stereostatic Radiosurgery (SRS). These are "surgeries" done using radiation techniques that can pinpoint and eliminate individual tumors within parts of the body, often the brain. However, my brain is so full of lesions that this is not a possibility. So my WHOLE BRAIN gets treated. Not ideal, but really the only option to try and eliminate as many bad things going on in there as possible.
First of all, this is not a procedure for everyone, only those who have so may lesions on the brain, that treating individual spots is not possible. There are procedures known as CyberKnife or Gammaknife or, more generically, Stereostatic Radiosurgery (SRS). These are "surgeries" done using radiation techniques that can pinpoint and eliminate individual tumors within parts of the body, often the brain. However, my brain is so full of lesions that this is not a possibility. So my WHOLE BRAIN gets treated. Not ideal, but really the only option to try and eliminate as many bad things going on in there as possible.
Today, I asked my radiation therapists to take a few photos of this procedure, just so you'd have some idea of this, my daily 9:50 occurrence. The whole procedure takes less than 10 minutes, once I am on the table and strapped down.
Let me preface this by stating that the therapists you see pictured here are the sweetest, kindest, most caring people you could ever meet. They are ultra sensitive to how I am feeling, and yesterday I was swooped into a wheelchair as soon as they set eyes on me. I did not think I was that bad off, but, fighting mystery nausea, I did have Sean drive me, thinking it might not be the best for me to go solo. I guess as soon as they saw me they knew I did not need to be standing upright. I was grateful for the wheelchair, and not too proud to use it. Today seemed better, thank goodness.
So, to start with, how do you get your own mask? Before any treatment begins, you get your own personal mask formed by two very sweet and chatty ladies who drape a very warm and wet plastic mesh thing over your face. They then spend a few minutes pressing this down onto your face and nose area so it fits as closely as possible, using small fans to blow, cool, and create a permanent face shape only for you. It works. They then do some taping and marking and measuring and I don't know what all to make sure everything lines up perfectly. Before any radiation is done, they line all up using xrays and CT scans and double and triple check that "things" go where they should go.
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| Ready to get masked. See white thing above my head - that's the mask. |
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| Getting me positioned for treatment. The table is cushioned and they always place a pillow under my legs and offer a blanket.
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| Me and the machine. |
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| These lovely people always make me feel better... an amazing feet. |
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| Ready to go. The "mask" is strapped down to a plastic head shape sort of thing. No moving! |
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| That blue and grey thing is the radiation machine. It moves left, right, up, down, all around me to get in the perfect zapping position, making whirring and clicking sounds as it goes. |
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| Masked and ready to go. |
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| Part of my Sunny Spring View on the ceiling...It could be a lot worse. |
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| Better view of me in the mask attached to the table/head holder thing... and part of the machine. |
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| What they see when they leave the room. Me on the monitor. They are never far away. Some oddities that occur during treatment:
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Sunday, August 4, 2013
Elders, Anointing, and Peace
I have been processing the events of last Thursday night. How do I put into words the amazing and wonderful event that occurred in a small upstairs room at one of the buildings on my church campus at Fellowship this week?
Last Sunday morning, following worship service, David and I visited the Prayer Room, for obvious reasons. The Prayer Room is a private room designated for those who feel the need for prayer following a worship service. The room is quiet with lamps and secluded sections with comfortable chairs. Most importantly, members of our elder board and their spouses are also there, waiting.
Newly diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer to my brain, lungs, liver, possible pancreas, and who knows where else, and we were reeling. We are not geniuses, but we recognize when we NEED HELP. And we are far from too proud. We've visited that Prayer Room a couple of other times, and it's never fun. Emotional and serious and tearful, but such is life at times. To hide from these events is foolish and even selfish.
We met with Kent and his wife, Terry, who listened intently and were quick to comfort and hold us and pray fervently. Their prayers were comforting and strengthening and we suddenly did not feel quite so alone. They immediately promised to make plans to get with the rest of the Elders to pray with us as a group.
The following day, Kent contacted David and said they wanted us to come to church some evening that week for a time of prayer and anointing with oil. We, of course, were more than willing. In fact, many of these same elders had done just that during my first cancer diagnosis in 2010. We knew what a special and strengthening time it would be. Thursday night it was.
And to make it even more special, many members of our community group also attended. These are people that we meet with regularly for Bible study and fellowship, and who keep a large church body such as Fellowship from seeming quite so large. We know each other better than most and love each other, warts and all. They were there to support and comfort, and that they did!!
So, we met with the elders at 7:00 on Thursday evening this past week. We were greeted and seated comfortably in two seats. Everyone was introduced, our community group members in attendance were also seated, and I, with the help of David, explained my current situation...and the praying began.
I will not go into detail, other than to say these are obviously Godly men who know how to speak through the Spirit. They know that the Spirit intercedes in our "groaning", as it says in Romans. We may not know what to say, but the Spirit's got it covered (thank God!). I count on this daily - as my words are usually pretty pathetic, and rambling, and sometimes confused.
Their words, however, were NOT pathetic. They felt golden and divine and they put things into words that I only dream of doing. We were ministered to in amazing ways. Not to be overly dramatic, but I felt the Spirit of God hovering over and around all of us.
One at a time, each elder knelt before us and laid his hands on us and anointed our foreheads with fragrant oil (James 5:14, etc.), before following with the most comforting and sincere prayers...some so quiet only David and I could hear. These men were there for US, and no one else.
I went through numerous tissues, of course, as did David. But somewhere in there, that peace came. That peace that transcends all understanding...it came. Sweet relief!...to feel that unbelievable peace in my mind and my heart.
I know this is the battle for my LIFE, for my BODY - but it is also a battle for my MIND. I have heard the voices in there - those voices from the evil one. Voices that bring doubt and fear and anger and resentment and, perhaps, worst of all, apathy.
I left feeling hopeful and buoyed and loved unconditionally. Every single one of these men made the point to tell us what a BLESSING it was for THEM to be allowed to pray for us. Needless to say, it was mutual. I know their prayer will continue and that I have the BEST PRAYER WARRIORS on my side. Not just these wonderful men, but so many, many of you. You, who are standing in the gap, when my words don't come or I am too beat to do much else. I praise God for you all.
It was a blessing walking out of that building with my community group brothers and sisters by my side. With humor and promises and love, we all returned to our cars with relief and thankfulness, feeling ready to take on whatever may come...and not alone.
Last Sunday morning, following worship service, David and I visited the Prayer Room, for obvious reasons. The Prayer Room is a private room designated for those who feel the need for prayer following a worship service. The room is quiet with lamps and secluded sections with comfortable chairs. Most importantly, members of our elder board and their spouses are also there, waiting.
Newly diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer to my brain, lungs, liver, possible pancreas, and who knows where else, and we were reeling. We are not geniuses, but we recognize when we NEED HELP. And we are far from too proud. We've visited that Prayer Room a couple of other times, and it's never fun. Emotional and serious and tearful, but such is life at times. To hide from these events is foolish and even selfish.
We met with Kent and his wife, Terry, who listened intently and were quick to comfort and hold us and pray fervently. Their prayers were comforting and strengthening and we suddenly did not feel quite so alone. They immediately promised to make plans to get with the rest of the Elders to pray with us as a group.
The following day, Kent contacted David and said they wanted us to come to church some evening that week for a time of prayer and anointing with oil. We, of course, were more than willing. In fact, many of these same elders had done just that during my first cancer diagnosis in 2010. We knew what a special and strengthening time it would be. Thursday night it was.
And to make it even more special, many members of our community group also attended. These are people that we meet with regularly for Bible study and fellowship, and who keep a large church body such as Fellowship from seeming quite so large. We know each other better than most and love each other, warts and all. They were there to support and comfort, and that they did!!
So, we met with the elders at 7:00 on Thursday evening this past week. We were greeted and seated comfortably in two seats. Everyone was introduced, our community group members in attendance were also seated, and I, with the help of David, explained my current situation...and the praying began.
I will not go into detail, other than to say these are obviously Godly men who know how to speak through the Spirit. They know that the Spirit intercedes in our "groaning", as it says in Romans. We may not know what to say, but the Spirit's got it covered (thank God!). I count on this daily - as my words are usually pretty pathetic, and rambling, and sometimes confused.
Their words, however, were NOT pathetic. They felt golden and divine and they put things into words that I only dream of doing. We were ministered to in amazing ways. Not to be overly dramatic, but I felt the Spirit of God hovering over and around all of us.
One at a time, each elder knelt before us and laid his hands on us and anointed our foreheads with fragrant oil (James 5:14, etc.), before following with the most comforting and sincere prayers...some so quiet only David and I could hear. These men were there for US, and no one else.
I went through numerous tissues, of course, as did David. But somewhere in there, that peace came. That peace that transcends all understanding...it came. Sweet relief!...to feel that unbelievable peace in my mind and my heart.
I know this is the battle for my LIFE, for my BODY - but it is also a battle for my MIND. I have heard the voices in there - those voices from the evil one. Voices that bring doubt and fear and anger and resentment and, perhaps, worst of all, apathy.
I left feeling hopeful and buoyed and loved unconditionally. Every single one of these men made the point to tell us what a BLESSING it was for THEM to be allowed to pray for us. Needless to say, it was mutual. I know their prayer will continue and that I have the BEST PRAYER WARRIORS on my side. Not just these wonderful men, but so many, many of you. You, who are standing in the gap, when my words don't come or I am too beat to do much else. I praise God for you all.
It was a blessing walking out of that building with my community group brothers and sisters by my side. With humor and promises and love, we all returned to our cars with relief and thankfulness, feeling ready to take on whatever may come...and not alone.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Can a Smoothie Be a Miracle?
Here is a little bit of heaven...
A son (Sean) who takes you to get your brain radiated before going to the hospital for chemo port surgery, and listens with empathy and sympathy while I whine about thirst and hunger (exacerbated by side effects of meds).
Sweet nurses who all take an interest in my story, with sympathy (whichs keeps me with tissue in hand). One particular nurse who wraps my dehydrated arm in a warm, wet towel to insure good veins for IV, which works beautifully. Did not feel a thing.
Finally go to surgery around 11:30, and finally get my ice water around 1:00. Oh, the pleasure!!
I am horribly and blissfully out of it, so we don't leave until around 2:30 or so. Get home to bed and Sean makes me possibly the best healthy fruit smoothie I've ever tasted. I loved it so much, he did it twice. I did not want it to end! Then David came home and did it again! Can I just live on smoothies from now on? Bliss.
Between then and this rambling and Percocet influenced account, I am resting and being worthless and praising God for my good men.
Ahhh...the blessings!
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Warning: Downer Post Here (hopefully not the norm)
Morning comes, and I awake from a somewhat decent sleep (4:30 am today), thanks to the Klonipin I've been prescribed. Then reality hits. Another day of cancer. Another day of lightheadedness and drunk walking. Is it the Klonipin? The radiation? The tumors? WHAT is it?
Not to mention the lethargy and frequent tears...out of no where. I see a photo, recall a memory, think about my children, my home, my husband, my job, my friends, my dogs, for pete's sake! I read amazingly sweet and strong and comforting notes and emails and facebook posts. Then the tears come. Don't get me wrong...I'm not sitting over here boo-hooing non-stop and going through boxes of tissue...but they do come. And I am already tired of it. And yes, I'll be the first to admit, I AM feeling sorry for myself.
I know this is true for all people in my situation. I felt this way before, even. Before, when there still seemed to be hope for a cure - for remission - for a win.
I find myself Googling things like "when does crying stop following metastatic diagnosis?" Google has not helped much here.
So, this is where I am at this moment in time. Perhaps I need to be taking that Klonipin (anti-anxiety med) during the day. That's how it was prescribed, and it's not supposed to sedate me, but I think it does, and I don't like the idea of being drugged when I want to LIVE what life I have left. So I backed off of it during the daytime. I just need something to make this worry and fear go away. I plead to my Father, and He IS my Comforter, but I am also human and think of things I probably should not be thinking of.
Today's agenda: Brain Rads at 9:50 (lots of upbeat people there - I was one once - it's almost too much now, though), Dr. Bell at 3:15 to plan for chemo port placement, a visit to the Elders at Fellowship at 7:00 tonight for prayer, laying on of hands, and anointing with oil. If you so are inclined, be with us in spirit.
Be praying for Divine Strength and Peace and Healing - always HEALING. God bless you all.
Patti
Not to mention the lethargy and frequent tears...out of no where. I see a photo, recall a memory, think about my children, my home, my husband, my job, my friends, my dogs, for pete's sake! I read amazingly sweet and strong and comforting notes and emails and facebook posts. Then the tears come. Don't get me wrong...I'm not sitting over here boo-hooing non-stop and going through boxes of tissue...but they do come. And I am already tired of it. And yes, I'll be the first to admit, I AM feeling sorry for myself.
I know this is true for all people in my situation. I felt this way before, even. Before, when there still seemed to be hope for a cure - for remission - for a win.
I find myself Googling things like "when does crying stop following metastatic diagnosis?" Google has not helped much here.
So, this is where I am at this moment in time. Perhaps I need to be taking that Klonipin (anti-anxiety med) during the day. That's how it was prescribed, and it's not supposed to sedate me, but I think it does, and I don't like the idea of being drugged when I want to LIVE what life I have left. So I backed off of it during the daytime. I just need something to make this worry and fear go away. I plead to my Father, and He IS my Comforter, but I am also human and think of things I probably should not be thinking of.
Today's agenda: Brain Rads at 9:50 (lots of upbeat people there - I was one once - it's almost too much now, though), Dr. Bell at 3:15 to plan for chemo port placement, a visit to the Elders at Fellowship at 7:00 tonight for prayer, laying on of hands, and anointing with oil. If you so are inclined, be with us in spirit.
Be praying for Divine Strength and Peace and Healing - always HEALING. God bless you all.
Patti
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