All gifts come from above

Today it hit me—every chemo, every test, every needle, every hospital stay, every time I assumed that damn radiation position, every flipping thing about my cancer hit me and for the first time ever—I thought, well crap… I could have died.  Obviously I didn't, but I could have. 

 Today, a sweet, loving woman who showed me what grace and courage was all about, lost her battle with breast cancer.   While she was originally diagnosed a few years ago and seemed to be in remission, she fell ill again this year.  She encouraged me, she gave me hints, and she knew and understood what I was going through and she was one of my heroes.  And because of her, I finally came face to face with what I went through.

It started gnawing at me this morning in church when Pastor Bill came to me before the service and told me it was serious.  I sat there thinking and well, it snowballed from there.  A series of events unfolded and by the first line of the first hymn, I had tears falling and well, I picked my stuff up and walked out.  Of course I could not leave due to that little, itty bitty annoyance of having to teach my Sunday School class, but as soon as I got to the hallway, I was feeling better… plus Jessica, the other poor soul who shares the class with me, was out that as was baby Lilly—and we all know a baby can just melt the blues away.   As always, the kids were able to keep my mind from drifting too far.   

Pastor Bill was on his way to the hospital and told me he would call me later.  I was jumpy and although I should have spent some time at work, my mind was elsewhere—so I went walking on the beach.  It was as I was walking I got the news… she was gone and it was peaceful. And I cried.  And I could not stop crying—I cried for the family, I cried for her friends, I cried for her and I cried for me.  And then, I stopped and looked out over the ocean and thought about today’s lesson in which we talked about God’s creations and how we need to take care of them.  We talked about how God knows everything—down to and including the hairs on our head (and yes, there is always one who says something about bald people—I was not disappointed) and before we left, I told them to remember that we are God’s creations too and we need to take care of others as God would want us to.  

Pastor Bill called me right about then and told me this—it was peaceful and she was covered with the quilt the quilters had made for her (she was one of them) and all I could do was smile and think wow, how awesome.  There was so much love in that quilt and she was surrounded with that love and she knew. 

Life is a gift.  And today, I realized how truly blessed I am to be here.  Humbling too as today was also the first time I asked myself why was I allowed to live (remember, I never thought I was going to die, so I never allowed myself to even go there).  I sure hope I can do whatever it is I am here to do and not screw it up royally. Then again, I can always go back to the lesson on how God always forgives.

John 14:27

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

Rest in peace Nicole and thank you.

Ultra sounds, biopsies and icing shots oh my!

And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? Luke 12:25

During the whole cancer thing, I never worried.  I had to do what I had to do and that was it. I had to get a port, I had to lose my hair, I had to get chemo, and I had to get radiation — see the trend?  Besides, I was (still am) surrounded by worriers who were (are) willing to share the joy so why not indulge them.  In April, as I was going for that first mammogram after almost 2 years-- Mom asked me if I was nervous or worried.  Nope—and I honestly meant it.  Never occurred to me there could be something wrong. 

Fast forward to Thursday, October 17 and my 9:45am appointment for what I thought was a diagnostic mammo and again, I was not nervous or worried.  Of course I left my paperwork at home and of course I opened my big mouth when she said the ultra sound tech would be with me shortly.  I just had to say, “Gee, I thought I was getting a mammogram.”  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  So the call went out to Lynnette who said Dr Lynn said go ahead and do it (of course she did—anything to inflict pain—remember this for later).  And to think I could have avoided that crap.  I will never learn, will I (shut up Heather).  All went well and I went to work.  A little flat, but doing well.  I was all set to get the results when I saw Dr Lynn the following Thursday.

I got the first letter on Monday.  It stated there was an area they would like to look at again, but not to worry as this happens quite often and is usually nothing.  I was good with it—heck, Pia (ah the memories of the nicknames) was filled with scar tissue—as was pointed out during the April mammogram.   Then came Wednesday—the second letter—the one which made me call Billy and made me hide it from Mom. Again, I was not too worried as I was more concerned with the people they had writing these things—who the hell are they and do they sit in little rooms just thinking of things to write  or are they the people next door sitting at the kitchen table with evil gleaming eyes.  Trust me, Mom did not need to see that letter.  So I called Billy and he says it is probably scar tissue, but don’t be surprised if Dr Lynn does a biopsy.  Okay—I was good with that and started to worry how and when I would be able to fit it into my schedule as I was sure she would have to bring me back to inflict that pain.  

Off I go and after dealing with the scale and the blood pressure, I waited for the good doctor.  She did not disappoint.  After catching up, she shows me the images and tells me the results of the ultra sound and why the radiologist had concerns.   She then goes into how that person (I will not say the name of the radiologist as-- well, it is memorable and let’s just leave it at that) is pushing for an MRI and that she feels the only way to get a true picture is to do a biopsy.  I say whatever you want.  She jumps up, says she will be back in 5 seconds and leaves.  She is back in 4 and the words “crap--you are doing the biopsy now” slipped out just as Lynnette walks in laughing “Liza—wondered where you were.”  I am told don’t worry, it will not be bad and she was going to numb me.  As always, she was full of crap.  She brought me to tears it hurt so much.  I think I heard an evil laugh when I told her I hated her and she liked to inflict pain and that God would punish her someday.   I took great pleasure in yelling “Ouch” as she ended the biopsy.  Still, she won as it hurt for 2 days.  Poor Pia.   I was sent on my merry little way with an “I’ll call with the results—could be tomorrow, but more than likely Monday.”   I figured I had had a really bad morning so I first stopped at Whole Foods for their cranberry tuna and a hard roll—which I had not had in a while and then figured what the heck, I wondered what type of cupcakes were on the menu at Coastal.   And as Grandpa would say “Hot Dog! “as it was chocolate peanut butter day.  And off I went.  Not only did I get a cupcake, I got this icing shot—chocolate peanut butter—which made it less than a block.  Heck, I deserved it!

It hit me on the way back to work it might not turn out the way we all expected it to.  The decision to not tell Mom was easy and I will blame that on Billy.  A handful of people knew and that was fine.  My thinking was why worry people when more than likely it would be fine.  Then that little voice said “maybe, maybe not.” Damn little voice.  So Friday came and Friday went, with no call.  I made it through the weekend, but I will admit to getting more and more nervous.   By 3:00 this afternoon I had had enough.  I called and luckily Lynnette answered the phone.  I asked if the results were in and yes they had just been sent—she pulls them up and says “bunch of medical stuff here—but here is what you need to hear—biopsy was negative for cancer.”  Whew.  Funny I did not realize how much I was worrying.  I made it one more hour at work and then figured it was time to come clean with Mom.  She handled it well and I am glad I did not tell her. However, this does not bode well for the future.  Maybe she will forget.  Yeah, I know…. Keep dreaming.  

 

 

 

           

It is what it is....

It is what it is…. me-- pretty much everyday

Way back in August, I updated about the latest in my cancer—the gift that keeps giving saga.  Here is the latest….

The lymphedema is something which will always be a part of me—just lovely.  However, it seems to be treatable (at this time—why jinx myself and say curable) and I responded very quickly to the original wrapping.  Yay me (about damn time I got something right)!  Of course—it is me—so the kicker came in the form of the compression sleeve and glove which are needed  to combat this issue.  Mine needed to be custom made and they came from Germany AND they are $400.00.  And before anyone asks, working on the insurance …time will tell.  And then I asked how long they lasted—Robert got up—made his way towards the door—said he would be right back and then said “6-7 months” as he was closing the door.  I could only shake my head.  However, it is working and I am thankful.

I have also seen Dr K since the last update and well, it is what it is.  I asked about the bone/joint issues and leg cramps and there is nothing he can do.  We talked pros and cons of the tamoxifen and the tamoxifen prevailed and I will just go on.  He kept saying how sorry he was, but he was not willing to change anything.  He then told me he was worried about the Advil etc I admitted to taking.  I had to promise not to over indulge.  He asked about sleeping and I could not lie to him… he always knows when I fudge it… so I said I was up most nights for a few hours.  Again he apologized—but I told him it was okay as I got things done.  He laughed.  I did think of telling him Candy Crush only had 5 lives and that was not good for someone who was up for few hours, but I had this feeling I would have received a really clueless look and I did not want to have to explain it to him.

Sometimes, I forget that I have had cancer.  Silly as it seems, there are times in which it is totally out of my mind.  Then it hits me.  I still have not had a really good cry, but I came close to it the other week.  There are these Pink Fire Trucks which support Breast Cancer and they had been in Jacksonville and were on their way to Wilmington.  One of them—Claudia-- has my name on it.  Last year, 2 of my Sunday School kids—Carley and Madison, signed my name on her—and yes, I shed a few tears.  Anyway, long story short—I was on my way to therapy and Heather calls to tell me they are behind me (apparently she passed me). They caught up with me a little ways down and I just watched them as the Pender County Fire Truck led the way.  I passed them and as I was almost to New Hanover County, I passed one of their fire trucks—waiting to take over.  For some reason I just started to cry.  I thought I had it under control until I saw the switch off in the rearview mirror—Pender slides over and New Hanover took over.  All I could think was my name was on Claudia and how awesome the pink engines were and how many people were involved and shit, I was a cancer survivor—who would have thought?!

One thing I have learned while going through this is the only thing that matters is you make it through  and if you look like crap or say lose your hair—who the hell cares.  There were times when I cared and there were times when I did not.  Losing my hair was not traumatic to me and I will say, I regret not getting professional pictures taken when I was bald.  I am not saying I want to go back… I am just saying it would have been nice-- strange I know, but we are talking me.  Anyway, a year ago today, September 29, 2012, I took my wig off for the last time.  Not sure which one it was, but I was at work and I told Gaye I wanted it off and she said go for it. So I did.  And in honor of this anniversary—here are the stages of what my hair went through.   And before anyone mentions it—I did not have curls before all of this-- and yes, I have answered that question a million and one times!

The day of the shearing....
The before picture....

In the process....

 

The end result….

No words on this one.. well.. wait.. of course Aunt Sue had to take a picture...

Polly modeling Scarlett…

Kaleb modeling Lizzie...

Right after the wigs came off…..

Last week....

I should have known.....

A few months ago, I was debating what to do with this blog.  I wanted to end it as I felt the time had come and it had served its purpose-- besides, I was blank when it came to the witty writing my readers had come to expect (humor me here people).  One night as I was lying in bed, I even wrote some of it (in my mind—enough said).  But alas… when I woke up the next morning, my mind was blank and I never did recover those words.  Must have been a sign as apparently, I have another one to share and I would like to point out yet again, I have not said now what or no, that will never happen. 

About 3 weeks ago, I woke up with my right hand/arm tingling and my middle finger was stuck in the outward position.  Normally I would have found this amusing, however, it was a Wednesday and since it is the summer that means Summer Reading which means kids.  The first group is the K-5 kids and the second is the Teens.  I would love to say I was more worried about the teens, but those little buggars in the younger group are smart and I had visions… and they were not pretty.  I can handle my Teen group, but my K-5 group scares me.    Back to the tingling—it was annoying as hell and my finger was still stuck.  So I jumped in the shower hoping and praying it would stop and I could go on with my day.  As I was drying my hair—yes, I am at the I can use a hair dryer stage (although it takes about 30 seconds—still—it is an accomplishment considering where I was a year ago)—anyway, I realized my right arm was swollen.  From my fingers up to my shoulder looked a little big to me—just when I was thinking I had side stepped the lymphedema issue.  I will let everyone use their own imagination on the thoughts I let slip out and it was not “oh crap”.

Lymphedema is fluid retention and swelling based upon the compromise of the lymphatic system.  And because I had about 20 lymph nodes taken out during surgery way back on January 6, 2012 (I can remember that day and I can’t remember yesterday), it seems my system is compromised.  Lovely, just lovely.  So I do the only thing I know what to do—I call Lynnette, Dr Lynn’s nurse.  I leave a message; she calls me back and says “Dr Lynn said oh crap when I told her.”   Me—as I am laughing: “There is no way on this earth that is what she said.”  Lynnette—laughing as well: “hmmmmm….”  Me: “she said oh shit – didn’t she?”  Lynnette: “Yup—along with why now.  You need to come in.”   2 weeks later, I was sitting in a familiar room while she stared at my arm.  (I did see Dr Nicholas a week before and I told him I was going to see Dr Lynn as he was going to do something and he said something like better her than me and laughed and said you have driven her nuts since day one, might as well continue.  I love my doctors!)

I left the office with instructions to call Robert, some sort of lymphedema therapy specialist—had no idea there was one—and the thought going through my mind of having to wear one of those sleeves on my arm—which I now know are called compressions sleeves—just another thing to add to my I could have gone my entire life without knowing this list.   I was able to push the appointment off 2 weeks until Summer Reading ended as I had a feeling it was not going to end well.  My arm still tingled at times and you know when you stare at something long enough, it does what you want it to do.  So in my mind, my arm was not swollen anymore.  Yeah, right.  Robert explained the therapy procedures while measuring my fingers, and all up and down my arm and then my shoulder. And I actually was able to listen and to comprehend.  Of course it was before 1pm, so I was good.  However, as he continued, I realized this therapy was really going to suck and I might have to get some Press N Seal again… oh the joy!  Because everyone does things their own way, the first part of the therapy can be as short as 2 weeks or as long as 10 weeks (anyone want to make any bets here?).  The first part is comprised of compression, movement and I think I heard the word massage.  Compression is the biggest part and ---here it comes—my arm needs to be wrapped basically 24/7.  And I am not talking a regular wrap—I am talking each finger is wrapped, the hand, the arm, the shoulder—everything is wrapped.  This is to get the fluid moving.  He said my ability to type should be okay and my writing might get messier—I did not say a word.  I think this is when I just shook my head and said what about showers—the memory of that damn Press N Seal still haunting me.  He told me I could not get it wet and gave me a few suggestions.  He did tell me I could get the early appointment and take the wrap off and take a shower as they would rewrap when I got there.  Of course the only ones I could work out the first week are in the afternoon.  Figures.

I start this next step a week from Monday.  I have to be there the first week everyday Monday- Friday and then I have to keep the silly thing on the entire weekend. Looks like every day the following week, but he wants to see how the week goes.  So much for my planning.  On the positive side… I only have to drive to Gordon Road which is on the outskirts of Wilmington and takes maybe 35 minutes—not all the way down towards the hospital.  And there is a new Dunkin Donuts in Hampstead.  And I am on this side of the ground and it could be a lot worse.  A lot worse. 

Give thanks in all circumstances!

 

 

 

 

 

With a grateful heart

Today I had the privilege to be one of the speakers for our annual Laity Sunday at church.  I will say I was set up.  When MJ asked me to talk, I held off thinking no way.  Stupid me, I then asked what was the topic.  When she smiled and said gratitude, I knew I was hosed.  I tried to avoid the inevitable by telling her I had to pray about it, but she knew and I knew I had to say yes.  (a big shout out to Lisa Brown who came up with the theme--- yes, I know and yes, someday I will get back at you—when you least expect it).

             Strangely enough, I struggled over what to say.  I was not sure which road to take and I have about 7 unfinished versions to back me up.  Pastor Bill told me to use my blogs—then he got this funny look and said, well, maybe some of the things in the blog.  I took pride in knowing he was probably worrying about what was going to come out of my mouth.  He did not have to as if I said anything I should not have, Mom would have killed me. 

Below is what I said—there were a few minor additions and I will have to say I was pretty darn proud of myself as I did not do that Jersey fast talk and I only lost my place I think 3 times.  It was a wonderful service as not only was it Laity Sunday, it was Quilt Sunday—the quilters—have now made 1032 quilts for Barium Springs Home for Children and the Serenity Garden and Columbarium was dedicated. 

So here you go!

I was 6 weeks old when I was adopted.  All I know is my biological mother was 16, from North Carolina and was sent to New Jersey to have me. I have never had the need to seek her out, but if I did, it would be to say thank you for loving me so much and to let her know I was okay and have had a wonderful life.   God placed me exactly where I was supposed to be.  When I was almost 2, we “got” Billy and the family was complete.  Up until I was 10 and Billy was 8, we had your typical childhood.  It was then Dad was diagnosed with cancer and the world as we knew it changed.  He died 2 years later and while he was gone, I still had a wonderful life.  I was surrounded by people who loved me—including my church family who were so important during Dads illness and death and I was raised with God in my life. Life was different without Dad, but it was good and Mom made it so.    3 years later, my best friend’s mother Sue  died of cancer and I remember telling Mom I was so thankful she was the one still alive as even though I missed Dad, I needed my mom.    Words I have said a million times over throughout the course of my life. I remember thanking God in my prayers for giving me my family as I saw being blood related was not always what it was all cracked up to be. 

Then my cousin Mark got cancer.  He was 2 years older than me and was 39 when he died.  He suffered.  His bible verse was James 1: 2-4—Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of you faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  He lived this to the moment he died.   He struggled, yet was at peace.  I never quite understood how he did it and then I got cancer and it all fell into place.

            I found the lump late on Monday, December 5, 2011.  I knew what it was the moment I found it and I cried.  I did and said nothing.  I checked again Tuesday night and that dang thing was still there so I cried a bit more and called Dr Jones the next morning and was in her office within 2 hours.  All the time I was like really?  Seriously?  I had just had a mammogram in July which supposedly was good—so what the heck? I had a moment of denial—but deep down I still knew.  And on December 29, I sat down with Dr Alison Lynn and she says “I do not need a biopsy to know it is cancer.”   3 things popped into my head—first—oh crap I have cancer second—I don’t have a bucket list and third—I am attached to my hair. She told me she thought it was Stage One and it looked like it had not spread so the treatment would just be radiation.  She had just confirmed what I had known for weeks and I was filled with this amazing calmness and peace—a peace that only God can give and I knew with certainty, I was going to be fine. 

      On January 6, I had a lumpectomy and I knew the moment Dr Lynn walked into recovery my life was just about to get a bit more exciting and my hair was history.  Turns out it was in the lymph nodes and it also turned out that I was Stage 3 and since I had lymph node involvement, I was looking at about 6 rounds of chemo followed by radiation.  Again I was at peace and again I knew without a doubt I was going to be fine.  But that bump in the road had just become a really large pothole. Still, there was much to be thankful for.  Stage 3 was better than Stage 4 and 4 out of 20 nodes was a whole lot better than 15 out of 20 and I had plenty of sick leave.

 In your heart you plan your life, but the Lord decides where your steps take you.   Proverbs 16:9

            I believe God is always with you and while everyone faces obstacles, trials or whatever you might call them, he also gives you the tools—or as I thought of them—nourishment-- to get through those times.  You just have to open your heart and mind and take it for what it is.   My nourishment came in many forms.  From people I never expected to be there to those who went above and beyond.  It came from my wacky sense of humor—I named everything—Portia was my port, -- then she ruptured and Pedro the pic line took over.  My wigs were Scarlett and Lizzie – you get the idea.   I also have this ability to remove myself from the moment at hand by focusing on something else—it is like I am really not there.  Strange, I know, but it has come in handy.   And more importantly, I realized – quickly I might add-- the more I let God take over, the more I let my faith grow, the better I was.  I am not sure when I first noticed the sign—it was in December, and on the right in Ogden.  Your typical church sign.  It said Be still and know I am God.  That sign stayed up until March—at which time it changed to Walk by faith….not by sight.  It changed a few more times, always speaking to me.  In August, when it changed to Yard Sale Saturday, I knew I was through the worst.

            For me, the blessings I received from my cancer far outweighed the negatives. While I never did things the easy way, everything was always, in my mind, doable.  I did 6 rounds of chemo and ended up in the hospital 4 out of those 6 times.  It drove Dr Kotz nuts.  The first time I ended up on the 10^th floor, he told me it could be 5 days.  I rolled my eyes and said no way it will be no more than 3 and he said my job is to keep you safe—something he repeated time and time again.  He also said he was going for the cure and he did not want to decrease the chemo.  Well, he did what he said; he got the cure and kept me safe, even when I threw him all those curve balls.  And I never spent more than 3 days either.  After chemo I was delighted to be cremated for 6 ½ weeks. Every day, Monday – Friday 4:30 pm standing appointment.   Someone commented on my blog that her father said radiation was a piece of cake—if that someone is sitting in this room—he lied.    I was burned from the inside out and to me it was worse than chemo.  At least with chemo I was drugged most of the time.  Still, it could have been worse. Many times I assumed the radiation position and tossed up a thank you prayer to God for being able to treat me, although it would have been better if it did not hurt as much.   

      Back to my blessings— topping the list is the people—family, friends, church family, medical staff, strangers, patrons—you name them and they were there.  I received cards, gifts and advice from friends and strangers. It was a bit overwhelming at times—but, as I had been advised to do, I embraced it.  Very, very humbling, yet I am so very thankful to be surrounded by such caring people.   It would take too long to point out everyone, but I would like to publicly say thank you to Mom as there is no way on earth I could be the caregiver she was.   Speaking of Mom—remember I found the lump the night of December 5?  That was also the night PW women met—and that was also the night when they went around the room asking for prayers and she gave a praise—she was thankful for her children’s health.  She has promised to never ever say that again.   A little late for me, but hopefully Bill will be spared.  Speaking of my brother, I would like to publically thank him as well.  As surgeon he came in quite handy at times—even if he did say—oh don’t worry, it is nothing.

       There were some people I thought would step up and they did not.  It took me a little by surprise until I realized they just did not know what to say or do.  And I got it and understood completely.  And then there were people who popped in when I never expected—and they will always be a part of my life.  And lastly, there are those who came in, helped me and drifted away— everyone had a purpose and I am so thankful for each and everyone. 

            I am thankful for all cancer has given me and honestly, I would not trade it for anything in the world.  To me the biggest negative was it affected so many people who love me and I hated that.  I hated I was a reminder to those who had walked this road before me and I hated Mom had to be a caregiver yet again. 

            I learned so much about myself and the world around me.  I learned that if I left my day planner at home, my world did not come to an end.  I learned that if I did not get to it, life still went on.  I learned to just let it go.  I learned there are much worse things than chemo, and losing my hair did not define me.  I found out chemo brain does exist and there are side effects to everything.  I learned by being positive, you could change an outlook.  I learned I was loved, cared for and special.  I learned kids get it sometimes better than adults.   I learned a card could make a day, Renee Beckers’s chicken soup cured all and wigs can be misplaced.  I learned by saying now what and no, that will never happen, was a sure sign it would happen.  I learned things I could have gone my entire life not knowing. I also learned my friends are worth their weight in gold and I hope and pray that if ever the circumstances are reversed, I can pay it back 10 fold. 

     Earlier I said I had a blog—I did the blog for 2 reasons—first to keep people up to date and second, it was a release for me.  During the past few weeks, I have read it from the beginning to my latest post.   As I was reading and remembering, it felt kind of like a dream—as if it had never happened.  But it did and I made it through.  I do wonder if I would have approached this the same way if I knew it was terminal.  I sure hope so. 

    If you are familiar with Facebook, then you know what a cover picture is. For those of you who are not familiar—when you log onto a person’s profile—there is a banner of sorts and that is the cover picture.  I have changed it once in a while, but I always go back to what is on there today.   It says there is always, always, always something to be thankful for. 

     I am so thankful to be a child of God.

 

It is what it is....

Special—adjective --

Surpassing what is common or usual; exceptional:

 Peculiar to a specific person or thing; particular.

All of my doctors—oncologist, radiologist and surgeon are all right around the corner from each other.  However, I take different routes as it is easier to get to Dr Nichols by going down Market and getting on 16^th and easier to take Military Cutoff to Shipyard to get to Dr K and Dr Lynn.  Last year, when I was going to them for what seemed to be every day, I was able to gauge how late I was by where I was at a certain time.  I knew I had to hit College and Oleander with 15 minutes to spare or I was screwed getting to Dr K or Dr Lynn.  I have been to Wilmington a million and one times since I had last seen Dr K and I never thought about it.  Until today.  I hit College and Oleander at 9:43am and all I thought was “I got this.”  Strange the things which go through a person’s mind at the weirdest times; then again, it was better than focusing on the am I going to have to have blood drawn today worry. 

            I get there with minutes to spare and am called in by a nurse who I had never seen before, so I behaved myself.  She asked me to get on the scale and then she took my height.  Instead of taking the weight out on her, I stuck with the height.  5’2” --I say… she says no--5’1” and you were 5’1 ½” last time (great, now I am shrinking.  As if I did not have enough things on my mind).  She puts me in a room, asks me a few normal questions and says “the doctor will be in shortly.” Oh please… this is real life, not a TV show—I almost snorted.    Since chemo brain is usually in full swing when I have questions, I get out my trusty pack of note cards (some of you thought I was going to say day planner—nope—I actually LEFT that at home.  Okay, I forgot it, but still, I did not panic).  For the record, I have a ton of them.  Some have writing on them, some are blank—for those moments I have a thought and remember to write something down.  They are clipped together with a pink clip—makes it easier to find as well as keeping them in one place.  I am ready.

            Dr K walks in and gives me a hug, says you look great and laughs when I say “look—I have hair!”  He sits down and starts.  I know he saw the cards, but smart man, he ignored them.  But I figure he has his questions and after a few of them, we get down to business.  It starts with the how is the tamoxifen going.  Hmmm, funny you should mention it… I am having side effects.  So, looking at my cards, I go into the side effects I am having.   I tell him how my joints and bones are aching and how at the end of the day my fingers ache and sometimes I just can’t type. I tell him about the calf cramps and calf spasms.   He looks at me and asks if they are minor, severe and are they affecting my quality of life.  He asks if anything helps, I tell him sometime times I take Advil if it is really bad.   I told him they were annoying, but I was adapting.   That is when he knew it was bothering me.  However, as he went through the 3 possibilities, I knew exactly what he was thinking and I knew I was on it for better or for worse.  Long story short, it is the best for me now and even when he changes it over to something else, the same side effects might occur.  Plus, to add insult to injury, he asked me if I heard about the study and I said yes.  5 years was just upped to 10.   Oh well, I am on this side of the ground. 

            It was then I figured I might as well march on (good thing I had my cards) and told him I had looked up all the side effects and apparently most people have weight loss.  He looked at my chart and said you are better than in September and I told him that was not the point, the point was I was actually trying to lose weight and have even cut out sugar for the most part and he says that is great.  I said not for the cupcake people.  He just started laughing.  Then my stomach starts rumbling—at which point I said—yup- I got that bloating gassy side effect too. He looks at me and says “that is an uncommon side effect” and he just starts smiling.  He lost it when I say ‘’ figures and why do I always have to be the special one?”

            Then, my kind and caring doctor comes back to earth and tells me he is sorry for my side effects and he means it.    He has me figured out, he knows that if it worsens, I will tolerate it so he makes a point to tell me a few times, you are to call me if it gets worse.  And then he sends me on my way with a see you in the fall and you better call if needed. 

            I admit it; I walked out of there pretty down.  I know I should just count my blessings and I know he is keeping me safe but seriously?  5 to 10 more years of this crap? Lovely.   So I did the only thing I could do… I went to Whole Foods and got a 5 star chocolate bar (Lake Champlain Chocolates—the fruit one in case you were interested—awesome I might add).  Yup, I skipped the cupcake.  Okay, I only skipped it as today was not Chocolate Peanut Butter day at Coastal Cupcakes. 

            So, fingers crossed, prayers sent up and lots of hope I will not have to call Dr K before September. 

 

Joshua 1:9

 

               

Lessons learned

Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity and responsibility to give something back by becoming more—Anthony Robbins

I often wonder why I got cancer (and yes, I usually answer myself with why not --imagine those conversations back and forth—I can carry on quite an amusing conversation with myself at times).  And yes, I do wonder what I did that really pissed God off.  Then I dig deeper and realize there is a lesson to be learned in everything (but I still wonder….).

I am pretty sure the plan was for me to learn a few lessons.  Lesson number one was to never say never or now what.  Saying those words was (and is) an immediate set up for the now what or never to actually happen.  I know, I lived it. More than once too.  I was slow on the uptake; very slow—slow like the sloth.   Lesson number two was let go.  Again, I was a little slow on the uptake, but I got there.  I gave up my day planner, I gave in to my boss, and I just gave into things.  Very hard for someone as independent and yes—I will say it—headstrong as me.         

Lesson number three was facing and conquering my fear of cancer.  As with most people, I have been surrounded by cancer. If you have not been, count your blessings.  I lost a grandmother, a father, a cousin, an aunt, and too many others along the way. The one thing which always made an impact on me was the nausea and all that comes with that (for those that are slow on the uptake—I am talking throwing up/puking, praising the porcelain god... you get the idea).  It terrified me.  I would rather have a shot (with a needle, not tequila) then get sick.  And I HATE needles.  I think God spared me as lesson four kicked in and he was pleased.

Lesson four was, to me, the most important lesson as well as the easiest.  In fact, learning was not even part of the lesson—all I had to do was open my eyes, mind and heart and trust in something which had always been a part of me.  I had to trust my faith.  I will not go much further as I will not force any of my thoughts and beliefs on others (religion, like politics, is a very personal thing).  But I will say God is an awesome God and is always there, we just need to let him in. I never felt alone and I knew he would take care of me. I always, always knew I would be fine and he always surrounded me with a peace I knew only he could provide.

Yes, I learned a bunch of lesson.  I have said it before and I will say it again and again…cancer was humbling.  More than anything, I hated to put my family and friends through it.  I hated putting those who had walked this walk before me through it.   And I hated when people told me I was an inspiration.  I did what I had to do and there was no point in complaining.  Trust me; it was not as bad as it could have been.  Strangely enough, I have been done with treatments since August and yet I am not sure I have really accepted the fact it is over and I am a survivor.  I get to test that survivor thing and finally deal with it on April 12 when I participate in the Relay for Life here in Onslow County  and I walk the survivor lap (and if you would like to donate…here is your chance… shameful, I know, but what the heck!!!) http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?fr_id=53024&pg=personal&px=5204055   (highlight and hold down the CTRL key and click or cut and paste!).   

Yes, I am nervous as to me, it is a very big step, but one I need to take and in the process, I get to pay it forward and hopefully help prevent even one case of cancer in the future.  To me this step says, you are done and you have won this battle. Something I never could have done without the love and support of family and friends, an amazing medical team and God.  Thank you!

 

 

 

 

The Golden Ring

In your heart, you plan your life.  But the Lord decides where your steps will take you.

Proverbs 16:9

Finally—the golden ring is almost mine.  Growing up, there was a carousel at the Asbury Park boardwalk where there was a golden ring.  The goal was to grab the ring as you were going round and round.  I never did get that golden ring—a) I was too short and b) I was too afraid to fall flat on my face.  However, that golden ring has always signified (to me at least) the prize or now, the end. 

             If you remember, when I was first diagnosed, Billy was in disbelief.  He was sure it was going to be nothing. As we all know, he was wrong (possibly the only time I really wish he had been right.  It just seemed wrong to run around yelling you were wrong, you were wrong in a joyous voice).    He was in such disbelief that I – teasing—said “hmmm, bet I could milk you for anything.”  He said “yup, anything.” I said “I want a cruise.” He said “Done.” From that point forward, I had something to look forward to; something to say it was over.  

             I have been planning this trip since the moment Billy said done.  I looked at every cruise imaginable. I looked at New England, I looked at Mediterranean, I looked at Alaska (I did put my foot down when Billy said Costa would be a great deal) and I finally settled on the Panama Canal and Billy said that if we were doing the Canal, we were going coast to coast.  For a fleeting moment I was worried about the length of the cruise, but when I passed it by Estell, I knew I was good. (I do feel a wee bit guilty, but the hell with it, I deserve this sucker!).  I originally had it ready for September, but fate stepped in and I was told it was too rainy.  Good thing too as Pia had her issue and there was no way on this earth I could have made it on a cruise.  4 months later and I am still exhausted when I leave work!

             As long as Mother Nature cooperates (please, please cooperate) we will be sailing away from Ft. Lauderdale tomorrow at 5:00pm.  Exactly one year to the day I got Damn Portia.  I will also celebrate the one year marks of my first meeting with Becca and Dr K, and the meeting with Dr N who very matter of fact pointed out it was Stage 3 cancer (something I did not know until them – Mom either) and in memory of my first chemo, I will have one (or two) shots of tequila. 

            I cannot believe a year has passed.  Yet, it seems so long ago and honestly, a life time ago at times.  I remember feeling crappy with the chemo, but I don’t remember how badly.  I remember ending up on the 10^th floor, but I don’t remember it being that bad.  And I don’t think it is chemo brain.  I think I am just ready to go on.  I get back to reality February 3 late.  And when I do everything will have come full circle.  And that golden ring will FINALLY be mine!

           

My nourishment

Cancer is a journey, but you walk the road alone. There are many places to stop along the way and get nourishment - you just have to be willing to take it. ~Emily Hollenberg

 One of the easiest, yet at times one of the hardest things to do, is to say thank you.  To me, a mere thank you does not even begin to touch the surface for everything this past year.  I have held off as I tried to figure out how to go about it.  I think have said thank you a million times, but I also felt I needed to do more with a few people.  Alas, a few months ago I thought I was ready and as I was trying to get the words out, I got all choked up and ended up walking out.  I know I got the point across, but the fact I was unable to control myself bothered me.  So, I am bagging the in person and here we go… it is time…

·         Mom— for everything.  Clean sheets rule and you are the Queen. Bill (gasp) was wrong—I was not out of turn—God knew there was no way on earth I could have been half the caregiver you were.  All hail the Queen!

·         Bill – for listening.  And for not telling Mom about that one night I had a fever even though she figured it out when I ended up on the 10^th floor.  And for learning not to complain about how rough your weekend on call was… especially the night before I had chemo.  (admit it—my “wanna switch” comment had you scared).  And I have a confession—when I was bald and you first came down, I took great pleasure in showing you my bald head because it made you uncomfortable. That was a highlight for me.

·         Betsy—for staying calm, although speechless, when I said it was cancer.  And then knowing only food and Starbucks would do.  And for everything else you did from bringing me socks, Snickers and tea to the 10^th floor and cards and just being the best friend anyone could ask for.

·         Mike—for not taking Betsy away from me when I needed her the most.  Yes, I know, you needed her too, but I needed her more.  Besides, if you left her all alone up there, you would have never heard the end of it.

·         Heather- for making me laugh… and cry.  You wear pink for me and I love you!

·         Luke—for being you—praying and giving me that Bible verse when I needed it the most. From the mouth of babes… you could teach some adults a few things or two.  And thank you for the best Valentine’s Day I ever, ever had.

·         Lori—for keeping me grounded and reminding me God is in charge.  And for making me laugh by picking on Heather.  And thank you for not mooning me at work. 

·         Pastor Bill—for being there.  And I forgive you for not bringing me a cupcake.  However, I have not forgiven you for eating the M&Ms.  Something to remember.  

·         Billie—for all my little gifts in my box, not to mention all the prayers.  Life is all about Plan B.  

 

·         Kim G—taking care of me as only you could.  And making my nails pretty since the hair was gone.  But it is back and who knows what you have planned.  I am scared. Kinda. 

·         Estell—for letting me work odd hours and for letting me figure it out on my own I didn’t need to be there.  Yup, stubborn is a Gemini thing!

·         Brenda—for picking out Lizzie.  Great choice.  I miss her at times.

·         Gaye, Lisa and Brandy—I never had to worry about work—I knew it was covered. I also know you had to deal with much more and for which I am sorry.  And I really am sorry I missed the conversation with Kevin and my hair.  And to think he never used to speak to us!

·         Rachel—you got a tattoo for a few of us—I am honored to be part of that group.  Better you than me—I have had enough needles to last me a million life times.

·         Aunt Sue- for crying when I lost my hair.  And for the hospital gifts.  And for all the prayers.  I can almost forgive the picture taking when I was bald.  I said, almost.

·         Dolores—for loving me and even laughing when you cried.  And I know you cried.  You always cry.  But I love you and thanks for the “sisters”.

·         Debi—for running for me.  And for my clinging cross—still right by my bed.  I know it brought back memories.  I hated that for you.

·         The Sisters: Christine, Heather, Jennifer and Jessica—you are all so very, very different, yet so alike.  And you all have hearts of gold.  Lucky me!

·         Wes—for making my Sunday mornings normal in my otherwise upside down world.  And for the record, I ended up with 37 hours of sick leave left. So there.

·         Deb S-for being the Prayer Queen.  Enough said.

·         Laurel—for being the bestest cousin anyone could ask for.  And thanks for visiting and understanding.  And sending me things.  You rock!

·         Erin—for going to the shearing with me.  You were a great stand in for your mom.  And for keeping up with me too.

·         Sawyer Beth—for being the first one to really make me cry – it was the first card you all signed—figures it was you.  And for all those texts to see how I was. Always made me smile.  Yiza loves you!

·         Facebook friends—too many to mention.  Your posts made me smile and laugh—and cry at times.  The support was overwhelming.  Thank you.

·         Those who walked this road before me—thank you for sharing and being there.  I just wish there wasn’t so many of you.

There are so many others—Jessica for the first prayer shawl—blew me away; JoAnn for that awesome washcloth—yes Jo, I still use it and you made it and I love it!; Renee for the soup—the only thing I wanted at times;  Mary B for the masks ;Bob for that ham thing that hit the spot when nothing else did;  Mary L for the rides to chemo and the Glow Place; Kathy for her prayer shawl, Margaret and Ruth with prayer shawls from their churches; Judy and Howard for my angel;  Bonnie for the Cancer Sucks lollipop arrangement—I can’t bear to part with that; Sue and her cheesecakes and all the cards, flowers, calls, gifts  made me feel so good and special. So did the pink hair in October (Luke—I wish I could have seen yours in person, but know that I loved it!).   And all the prayers—I know there were bunches as I felt them every day.    I know I have forgotten things and people—and since I have 5 years to do so--I will blame thechemo brain. Please know I am so very thankful and so very humbled by it all.  I have been nourished beyond my wildest dreams.  Thank you all for the nourishment.