Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

  This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

I was notified of new test results in the patient portal of the medical group my primary care physician belonged to before I heard anything from my primary care. That's good an bad. The wait is over, but bad because you're reading things that you may not completely understand.

For 7 years, I worked in a hospital laboratory. I started as a receptionist, worked up to an extra pair of hands for some of the departments, I sometimes filled in typing pathology reports from a Dictaphone when one of the medical secretaries was out, I was the computer operator when the lab became computerized, and I was a bench monkey plating specimens in Microbiology. All this to say, I have enough medical background to make me dangerous.

I think I stared at the word carcinoma for several minutes. How could that be? I had no pain. No lumps, bumps, or anything out of the ordinary.

Ductal Carcinoma in Situ referred to as DCIS.  Ever notice how diseases are known by acronyms? I'm with DCIS like I belong to some sort of special law enforcement task force.

A little medical reading got me to the cancer cells are located in the milk ducts and pretty much stay there. DCIS is called Stage 0 or pre-cancer. That made me laugh because it's like being sort of pregnant. You either are or you aren't.

I also found that Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston, Massachusetts is the only facility in the Northeast United States that has a program specifically for DCIS. I decided that's where I wanted to be treated. 

T Stands for the 13th Anniversary of T Day

 

Erika from BioArtGirl was my swap partner for the 13th T Day Anniversary. Erika had me at the Kitty Love Stamp and she also included a Historic Main Street Railroad Station stamp.

On the back of the envelope she stamped this nervous feline

Inside, this gorgeous card with two of my favorite things. Ink (my beloved black cat now with me in spirit and any black cat I see real or in print is Ink) and a cup of tea. The sentiment on the card: May your cup overflow with Hope.

The inside sentiment was a belated T Day anniversary wish (sometime in July) and a birthday wish.  She also included a fun tag with having coffee/tea at the beach. I love the googly eyes on the teacup. She also tucked in an Ink bookmark. His paws are cut out so his paws hang over the top of the page and his body hangs on the back of the page. There was also an Ink silhouette.

Thank you, Erika, for going through so much trouble with an injured shoulder. I hope you're feeling better.

Thank you to our hosts, Elizabeth and Bleubeard for hosting T Day. 13 years. Here's to many more T Days.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Monet and Me

 

and Miro admired Happy Mail from Columbus, Ohio. I knew it wasn't from the Young One because she was here when the card arrived. The card had to come from the one and only Finnbadger of Envelope 100

I love how he coordinated the Star Wars card with the Star Wars stamps of the droids issued by USPS in 2021. Not only that, but Monet was tickled that the envelope coordinated with his coloring.

The inside sentiment. I am Amaze, Amaze, Amaze! Thank you, Finnbadger for remembering me.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

 

"A" did a great job of trimming down the snowball bushes.

Another moss rose gifted to us by somebunny or birdie

This giant weed is American Burnweed

Another moss rose

The sad sunflower because the goldfinches ate all of the top petals

Red petunias in Petunia's Queen of Hearts planter

How does your garden grow?

Happy, Little, Time Wasters

 

Wellerman (Ragtime Sea Shanty) - Scott Bradlee Piano Cover

The Friday Five Good Things

 

The Lung and Allergy Department was celebrating National Watermelon Day, 8/3/2026

Five good things that happened this week.

1. Part 1 of the antibiotic testing. A 3 hour test. I'm still allergic to the cephalosporin antibiotics, specifically Cephalexin. We stopped for lunch on the way home at the 99 Restaurant.

2. The NP was going to book the part 2 of the antibiotic testing. The earliest date middle to end of September.  A cancellation came in for Friday 8/7. I'll take it!

3. I couldn't log onto my work account or access work email on my phone. Emailed G ( from my home email address) in IT. All sorted out very quickly.

4. I made ciambotta (Italian vegetable stew) with vegetables from Himself's garden. I made it in the crockpot. Ma, why didn't we think of doing that before?

5. Teague made a delicious zucchini bread with zucchini studded with chocolate chips. The zucchini came from Himself's garden. I had a slice with my afternoon cup of tea.

How was your week?

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

    In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Your Weeble is Showing

After the performance of the Shaolin Warrior Monks, we walked back to Park St. Station to catch the outbound subway.

As we descended the stairs, I breathed in the stale air. I’d been riding the Green Line since I was 7 years old and was taken with a wave of nostalgia. The stations have been cleaned up considerably. When I was younger the stale air had an underlying tang of beer, beer waste and by product and unwashed derelict. I sighed. Even without the pungency, entering the station felt like a homecoming.

We walked through the station took the stairs down to Park St. Under to the Red Line and then climbed another flight of stairs up to the Outbound side of the track.

The platform was crowded and I was surprised how many people, especially young people, were milling about waiting for the Outbound “D” train to Riverside.

My Young One was taken with the novelty of riding the subway and she looked up and down the track searching for the train. I reached a hand and pulled her behind the yellow caution line. As a youngster, I remembered stepping over the line with The Brother as he laid pennies on the track. We would watch with glee as the old green trolley cars would flatten the pennies into thin sheets of copper. With so many pennies laid end to end and stacked five high, it’s a wonder we didn’t derail any trains.

A blast of stale air, bright light from the tunnel, and a roar announced the arrival of the train. Even though the hour was late, the train was crowded. The doors whooshed open and we surged with the crowd like salmon swimming upstream. We moved to the back of the first car where it joins the second car. There were no seats available so I grabbed the hand hold on one of the seats. I poked the Young One to hold on. Himself was standing at the back of the first car and a glance behind him revealed all the seats in the second were filled too.

Sitting in a single seat facing me was a young man. He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. “Excuse me,” he said. “Would you like to sit down?” he asked me.

I knew seats would be available after a few more stops so I declined. Then I caught sight of Himself hanging onto a hand hold and desperately trying not to laugh as the train lurched forward.

Now, I was perfectly happy thinking the young man was being polite and chivalrous. He couldn’t possibly have offered me his seat because he thought I was a old.

Himself pressed his lips in a tight line in an effort to stop them from curling into a smile. He quickly looked away from me and became engrossed in one of the advertisements across the aisle. His shoulders were shaking with suppressed mirth.

After several stops, the young man disembarked and other seats became available. The Young One and I sat in a double seat and Himself sat behind us. We swayed and lurched through the dark to the end of the line.

As we walked to the car, Himself started to laugh.

“He was just being polite!” I said sharply.

“He probably thought you were as old as his grandmother!”

“Shut up."