Telling the Triple Threat

On the Sunday after I was diagnosed, we were driving into church when Levi, 6, made the comment "Yea, and then you get cancer and then you die!" out of the blue.  Clay and I looked at each other like "Where the hell did that come from?  Except we didn't think "hell,"  because well, we were going to church.  After we carted them off to Sunday School, we went to McDonalds for breakfast.  We couldn't go to a fancy sit down Denny's breakfast because we were 15 minutes late to Sunday school, so gourmet Denny's breakfast would have cut into our time budget.  We had to be back in time for Lutheran late service.

While dining non al fresco at Mickey D's, we decided that it was time to tell the triple threat, our blessings ages 5,6,and 7.  Especially since they were in their booster seats minutes ago discussing cancer and dying.  Not sure where that came from, but they obviously had picked up on something from someone somewhere.  We polished off our value meals and headed back to church.

Of course as soon as we picked them up, Levi started crying that he didn't want to go to church.  Because it was too long and too boring.  And then the other two started whining about it being too boring.  So I did something I swore I would never do.  I told them they could play Minecraft on our phones during church.  I knew my brother, Kurt, had put in a prayer request for me--and I didn't want to be in the bathroom with one or more members of the Triple Threat when it was my time to shine!  And by shine I mean when they prayed for me.  (I know, there is something the matter with me.  But I needed big prayers and wanted to be there to pray along with the others!)  40 percent of church time is now spent walking my kids to the bathroom because they have an "emergency."  The other 59 percent is spent telling them that there is just "a little bit longer" and bribing them with offering money to put in the collection plate.  They are still young enough that this is a huge deal and get in massive fights if they each don't get a "money."  The other one percent is spent actually being able to listen.  And that is when the Klausing kids are up front for the children's message.

So the whole Minecraft thing is worked out beautifully.  Kate and Levi are completely engulfed in building their block houses or whatever they do.  But here is the problem with three kids.  I only had two phones.  So I had to do something a devout Lutheran hopes to never do.  I had to turn around and look back at Kurt and Tia.  (Life long Lutherans know that you don't ever turn around during church.  Ever.) The shame.  But I was desperate.  I needed another phone and the prayers were coming up.  Aunt Tia graciously gave up her phone and her password so that I could install the Barbie Fashion Make Over app for Caroline.

And as I was installing the "bride Barbie" to get a makeover I hear the pastor say my name.  Actually I hear "Sister of our member, Kurt" and then my name.  And I got my feathers ruffled a little, because it sounded like Kurt was the member, and I was just a pagan non-member that needed prayers.  But that is another story for another day.  You see, Kurt and I have "confirmation class competitions" during service.  Like who can recite the Nicene Creed the best without looking at the hymnal.  Or who can sing "This is the Feast" through memory.  And usually I win.  And this whole praying for me like I wasn't a member made me feel like Kurt had more ammunition in our semi-friendly catechism war.

Naturally the kids heard my name, even through their Minecraft trance, and were all "Mom!  MOM!  they said your name!  Why did they say your name?!"  And I had a very honest response.  I said "Be quiet!  We're praying!" Because I didn't really know what to say.  I guess we didn't really think this whole thing through. And they went back to Minecraft and Barbie Makeover.

We went over to Kurt and Tia's house to change clothes after church because we were going to Clay's company picnic.  It was there that we told them.  We gathered them around and said that pretty soon Mommy was going to be sick and that I was going to be bald and it was going to be really silly.  They thought it was hilarious that I was going to be bald, but didn't really have any questions.  They wanted to get back to running around the house and otherwise terrorizing each other.  We asked them if they had any questions.  Nope. Not really.  So we just left it at that.  I knew the questions would come later.

I was getting all of my hair cut off the next day.  So my dear friend Miranda Lawson, who always takes our awesome pics, graciously offered to do them for me last second. For free.  Because she is a great friend.  And by graciously offer to take them I actually mean she watched my girls, did their hair, painted their nails, and took them to the park while I rested at home.  I hadn't had a break in days, and I was emotionally exhausted.  I didn't know how tired I was until all of my kids were out of the house that afternoon.  Clay had taken Levi to the Newman casa to ride dirt bikes, and we were originally going to take the photos downtown.  But I knew there was no way I was going to get Levi off a dirt bike to go take pictures.  So the setting of this shoot was at Casa De Newman.

After we were finished and on our way home are when the questions started.  "Mom are you sick right now? Mom are you going to barf?  How long will you be sick?"  These questions came from the Levi and Caroline.  Kate really didn't ask any, and she seems to have matured years in the past 2 weeks.  It makes me part sad, part proud, part I don't know what.  I know that 1st graders, and Kindergartners, and preschoolers shouldn't have to deal with this.

Cub Love

You may not be aware of this, but I am the best dancer in my high school.  Just go ahead and click on this here link if you need proof.   Dem Dancing Teacher Ladies

I teach ninth and tenth grade Intensive Reading and can go from old white lady to skreet gangsta in a hot second.  And I love my precious Tiger Cubs.  Fifteen years I have loved them at that school.  So as soon as I found out that I had breast cancer on Monday April 4, 2016, I knew I had to tell them that I would be out of class numerous days that week.  I had to tell them because this was the week before the state FSA test.  The week we had been working towards all year. There was a better chance of me hopping on the Great Space Coaster with Gary Gnu and heading to Timbuktu than me missing out on class this week.  Because, well, VAM. (Inside joke for you Florida teachers.) Basically, they needed to pass this test in order to graduate.  No pressure on this educator, eh?

Some background on where I work.  We are a Title One school, I don't know the exact numbers, but about 95% of my students are minority populations.  And 15 years ago this was a real culture shock to this Midwestern teacher lady straight outta the cornfield.  Obviously I have acclimated.  Because I know what "turnt, on fleek, tappin' my junk, and G.junk" mean.  And you don't.  But I digress.  I had to tell my freshman and sophomore students that I had breast cancer.  And there is nothing weirder than alluding to your hooters with hormonal teenagers.

The first thing I told them was to put down their phones.  That in itself is a harder challenge than conquering cancer.  I told them what was up.  Some were confused--the ones that didn't put their phones down--they thought that someone I knew had cancer.  The fully focused ones said "No!  She does!  G. Junk you stupid!" And then came the questions and comments.  I assured them that everything was going to be just fine, and the radiologist had told me I was going to be just fine, and that I wasn't going to die.  And then "S" said, "Yea, but, you know they tell everyone that.  You know, so you don't feel bad."  Cue the exasperated yelling from the female students.  I said, "S" honey, let's talk about you NOT going into the field of counseling after you graduate ok, sugar plum!"  But I think it is safe to say that we don't have to worry about S going into counseling as 2 minutes prior he was discussing having enough bail money to get out of jail if needed.  Bless his heart.

Later that day a few of my former students came to visit me during my planning period.  And by came to visit I mean they were skipping class and had just gotten kicked out of Ms. Tia Borstelman's room by Ms. B herself.  They were all ginormous football players and it was sweet that they came to give me a hug and wish me well, as they had heard the bad news.  But after a couple minutes I had to kick them out too, because well, they were totes skipping, and I had had them as students, so I knew what their grade cards looked like.  And they needed to be eligible to play.  As I was kicking them out of room 277 "Q" told me that he had to write a message on my board.  Adorable I thought, as I truly thought he was going to write something precious like "We Love you Ms Klausing!" or something like that.  Nope.  He wrote "Follow me @Qname@lick_em_low.  What the..!  Lick em low?!  Lick who low?! I hope not him!  This was the kid that would fart and gas out the entire class last year.  Every teacher has one of this kind.  The one that has to spend a quarter of the class standing out in the hallway because his "stomach is bubbling."

40th Birthday Surprise!

This whole cancer razzmatazz started around the middle of March 2016 when I felt something rather grande in my left hoot nanny.  It didn't feel like a marble or a Mike and Ike or a Skittle or squishy or any of the other ways I have heard cancer described.  It felt like a big muscle mass.  Like the size of a small fist.  Some girls might say, "Holy Smokes--that is bigger than my entire boob!"  But I am of sturdy German stock, and well, I am a solid, sturdy girl!  So I didn't think much of it, because I had three kids in less than three years and my knockers felt like that when I was pregnant.  (FYI, I hate saying the word "breast."  It reminds me of what really sophisticated people that are probably smarter than me would say. And it reminds me of a sandwich. So forgive me my uncouth verbage.  But I bet you are impressed that I know the word "uncouth!")

I forgot about it for a few days.  And then at lunch with my DHS "current events discussing" third lunch crew, I mentioned that I felt something.  And boy were they all over me like white on rice.  My sister-in-law and spirit animal, Tia, insisted that I call and schedule an appointment right away.  Yea, Yea.  I would.  And then I get the 12 steps to my classroom and I have an email from fellow teacher and linguist, Liz, to call immediately--that she or Tia would cover my class while I did.  But of course I couldn't leave my student blessings!  I had to teach my babies how to read!  It was right before state testing time!  But I called and was scheduled for a mammo on March 23rd in the afternoon.  One of the last appointments of the day.  

But I need to rewind with some background information.  My home girls were insistent that I make an appointment because my mom had breast cancer when she was 44.  She is now 65.  Plus my paternal grandmother and Aunt Kathy also had it fairly young.  I had had a mammo back in 2014 because of my family history--and it came back clear.  My post card had recently come in the mail to schedule another--so I was about right on schedule.  

 However, I was much more concerned about my 30-10th birthday celebration!  This was a momentous occasion.  I mean, it is not every day a girl turns 30-10.  The celebration started right after I scheduled my mammogram at this little hole in the wall motel called the Ritz Carlton of Naples.  My swanky BFF Jamie got Tia and I in with Club Level privileges.  And if you don't know what "Club Level" is, well then you probably don't have enough "couth" to be hanging with the likes of us.  But I'll give you a hint.  It has something to do with unlimited champagne and desserts with actual gold flakes on them.  I totally belonged there. And it was obvious that the people of the Ritz loved us, as evidenced by the swag bags we came rolling home with.  

That's called club level private roof top terrace.  Commoners are not allowed up there.  Which is why we are there.  

And these are not just regular ol' seats on the beach.  We had special passes given to us for chairs and umbrellas.  But Jamie hadn't seen the sun in a while, and was what we southerners call Elmer's Pasty.  So we donated our umbrellas to some fellas.  

Pina Coladas on the beach at the Ritz.  This is my true calling in life. 

 I remember sitting up in club level after a day of massages and lounging in the "adults only relaxation pool", and chatting about my upcoming boobie screening.  Not worried at all.  Then switching our conversation back to high school gossip and filling Tia in on all of the back stories of people from back home.  Of course we Facebook stalked everyone to give a visual to Tia.  It's what Facebook is for.  Duh.  So if you attended high school in Henry County and ever made out in the back seat of a Monte Carlo at some party way out on a county road--you know we were talking about you.  And I know about 89% of my readers are now thinking, "Oh crap."  But don't worry.  We said nice things!

After my grand visit, it was back to reality making mothering and teaching and wifing look effortless.  But just for a few days--because it was going to be SPRANG BREAK college style in just a few days.  On Wednesday the 23rd, the day before the last day of school--2 days before my 40th birthday, I had my mammogram.

I went in all nonchalant like, "I got this."  Because I really did think that I did not have a problem.  I immediately was accosted by my very strong personalitied and of Latin descent technician.  I mentioned I felt something and she lost her mind.  "Why deeeeedn't chu tell them about dee lump when you scheduled?!"  And I thought to myself, "Welp, that's why I came in!  Isn't that why you come in for mammograms?!"  So I got a severe tongue lashing and I only understood 1/3rd of it.  Apparently you are supposed to disclose any mysterious findings to the scheduler.  Duly noted.  She smashed my boobs, took her pics and sternly told me that she would need more pictures and that they would be calling me back.  Okuly Dokuly.  I was not worried.  I had my "surprise" 40th birthday happy hour the next day at the bowling alley after work.  Obviously my DHS colleagues and I are very classy.

And then I missed the phone call from my doctor.  Because I was at my surprise party that I told Tia to throw for me on that day.  Which she did not plan.  Even though I gave her five months notice.  Our computer dorkasaurus department planned it.  And I just let everyone know that it was my surprise party.

Friday morning. My birfday.  I woke up with some fresh acne.  Probably because I had not given in to selling Rodan and Fields.  But I didn't care.  I had just lost 11 lbs on Weight Watchers.  I was only 10 lbs short of my goal that I was supposed to hit for my birthday.  Apparently you are supposed to watch what you eat every day. Who knew?! What evs.  I was going out with my girl squad to class it up on Ft. Myers Beach.  I called my doc back in the AM and figured I would leave a message for his nurse.  I was slightly surprised when my actual doctor got on the line and told me I would need to go back for more testing and that he was ordering a biopsy and ultrasound.  I asked him if this was something I should be uber worried about.  He said that there were some abnormalities and left it at that.  I still wasn't scurred.  Because I was about to go party and I was Shawty and it was my birfday.  And I had no kids.  That never ever happens.

An hour later my Taylor Swift style girl squad shows up at the Boathouse for Mimosas.  I gather them around and tell them that we really need to seize the day, because I might have cancer.  Not ever thinking that I might actually have cancer.  I might have thrown that in just to make sure that no one was going to wimp out and go home early to take care of their kids.  This was my day dammit!

Debauchery took over, we had a grand time.  All weekend.  But I still hadn't heard from the Radiology place.  I took that as a good sign.  I called my doc back to see what was going on.  I could tell his nurse was ticked that Radiology Regional had not called me.  She said that orders were sent on the 24th and it was now the 29th.  So I called the Radiology place.  And of course I couldn't get through.  At this point I am starting to get a smidgen concerned.  But just figured I had some benign tumor.  It never felt like a cyst.

Finally got through the next day to Radiology Regional.  I must have had an apprentice without her mentor on the phone.  'Cause I swear that baby girl was talking about fruit bats and midgets and I was talking about making an appointment for an ultrasound.  Scheduling this sucker took almost an hour.  She asked me if I had taken any ibuprofen in the past few days.  Ummm of course I did.  I was hungover from my 40th.  I am no longer a whippersnapper that can just eat a Nacho Bell Grande and a Chalupa and be cured.  So that set my biopsy back.  You can't have any sort of blood thinner in your body.  Then of course we were going to Orlando and the Nickelodeon Hotel for Caroline's 5th birthday over the weekend, and that set the biopsy back even further.  I finally scheduled it for Monday afternoon.  A teacher duty day.  I figured I could get my grades in and then go.  Tia Pot said that she would go with me.  I told Clay that it was no biggie and to just stay at work.

By Sunday evening I had started googling stuff because I had this line and indentation on my left under boob.  It was faint, but when I lifted my arm it would really suck in.  According to my web research, this was a for sure sign of cancer.  And in my heart I knew it was.  But for some reason I was not scared.  I figured it would just be a dash of cancer, they would do some radiation, I would get a little vacation from teaching and mothering, and it would be all over.  That didn't seem so bad!  I could totally handle that!

Monday was the day.  I thankfully had done most of my grades before break, so I was done before the appointment.  Tia and I had a nice little lunch at Panera (teachers get excited about things like lunching at a restaurant in the middle of the week, because we NEVER get to do that!)  and we were off.  We arrive at Radiology Regional.  Only to find out that my not the sharpest tool in the  shed scheduler had sent me to to the wrong place.  Are. you. kidding. me?  So we drive 20 minutes across town and are now late.  Anxiety is starting to creep in.  Thank you Jesus that Tia was driving.

We arrive to a much more crowded radiology site.  But this was all divine intervention, because I ended up with a fantastic radiologist. That told me straight up answers and didn't make me wait to hear from my primary doctor.  She is also from Ohio.  Not a koinky dink.

I start with the ultra sound.  I try to get info out of the tech.  She of course abstains.  I ask her if it is filled with fluid and she says it is solid.  I knew that wasn't good.  And then Dr. Peterson came in and held my hand as I was laying on the table.   And I knew I was going to hear bad news.  She told me that she had been doing this for 18 years, but she knew even before she did the biopsy that is was abnormal and that it was cancer.  In all four quadrants.  She told me that she was going to wave her magic wand and get me in to the best surgeon immediately.  Like yesterday.  She performed the biopsy, and went to make a personal call to Dr. Aihara, the surgeon.  She came back and told me that I was scheduled for the next day at the surgeon and they had MRIs and all sorts of other appointments set up that week.  That fast.  I asked her to tell the news to Tia.  And when she came back with Tia is when I told her I wasn't ready to die, that I had a 5,6, and 7 year old, and I cried.  Because I didn't want my kids to have to go through this.  I mean, they still think getting a blue cup instead of a red cup constitutes an emergency.  And that my sole purpose in life is to make them peanut butter jelly sandwiches.  Or at the least, microwave an Uncrustable for 15 seconds.  Honestly, I much prefer the Uncrustables.  It makes life so much better.  The person that invented those deserves a bronze statue in my kitchen.

I won't go into the details of the tears.  But I did tell Tia to pull it together after she had a moment.  I was, and still am for the most part very robotic emotionally about this whole thing.  Like, God made doctors and nurses to take care of pesky problems like this--and they would do just that.  Take care of it!

I know I was granted a week and a half of supa-fun before treatment for a reason!  So here are some presentable pics from my spring break birthday!

Jamie getting a massage after a rough day of club level lounging

 Tia deserves to have this pic put in.  Because she threw me in the poo

Hanging out in cub level.  Sad I had to go.  

Private terrace posing at the Ritz