"I want you to know ...

...that my friend and coworker, Jillian, did her second 3-day, 60-mile walk for Susan G. Komen this past weekend. Jillian wears ribbons for those who have succumbed to ("in memory of...") and those who are beating ("in honor of...") breast cancer. She carried you with her this year.

I love you."

That was the email I received from my closest friend yesterday.

How do I say a meaningful 'thank you' to such people? To my dearest friend who loves me, 'warts and all', who has squealed with me in my happiest moments and held me in my lowest. To a strong, warrior-woman who, although I've never met her, carried my name along with others to heighten awareness of the ravages of breast cancer. To the Susan G Komen Foundation that raises funds to find a cure, that provides accurate information when we are newly diagnosed and searching for answers, that holds up before us brave women (and men) who have fought and won, who have fought and lost. To the surgeons and oncologists who have guided me. To the compassionate nurses who changed my bandages and administered chemo drugs. To my family and friends who have held my hand. To my Blessed Mother who cradled me in her arms and spoke softly to me of the love of a God I had long doubted.

Thank you. You have touched my heart. You have touched my life.

#8 - All Done !

My last chemo treatment was this past Thursday; hopefully last Neulasta shot was on Friday. Even though I'm officially done, I still have the effects of this one to get through. The pain & fatigue kicked in today, and I expect tomorrow and Monday to be harder. Then .. then .. I'll start back on the upswing for the last time. Usually just about the time I start feeling better, it's time for the next treatment. This time that day will come and go and I will be able to continue upward, rising back up through the swirling waters to break the surface instead of being shoved under once again.

There was a point I stopped referring to my pre-surgery, pre-chemo life as my 'normal life'. The treatment schedule became my 'normal'. The roller-coaster ride is almost over, although there will be bloodwork & scans to follow. Now that I'm nearing the time to return to work, to go back to that former schedule and lifestyle, I'm as apprehensive as I am excited.

In the beginning I described breast cancer as a 'detour', expecting to return to the same road in my life after treatment was over. I'll never be back on that same road again. The road has changed. My life has changed. I'm looking forward to the new path.

A Clearer Head

Message this morning .. surgery has been rescheduled for Thursday, June 25th 5:00 am. Son will be home the day before & he'll be there a full week after I go home on Friday. Panic over. I called the nurse back and told her to please thank the surgeon for being willing to schedule early on his 'office' day. And then I sincerely apologized for my 'meltdown' with her yesterday. She says not to worry .. that's normal. Normal ???? It's normal ???? I explained that I simply didn't understand why all thru this experience I've been uncannily calm and then I lost it over a two-day change in surgery dates. She said it was good that I did that. Good that I was quite seriously thinking about canceling surgery altogether ? Hmmm .. I'll have to think about that one.

Someone remind me later .. I owe this kind lady flowers.

Way Too Much Trouble

The one thing in this adventure that I've had control over was still being able to take my vacation mid-June, and scheduling surgery the following week. I consulted with family to avoid scheduling on special days, coordinated with my supervisor, had forms filled out for my son's employer, he made flight reservations, coworkers changed vacations to accommodate my surgery date of Friday, June 26. All was set .. I felt good about it.

First thing this morning I got a call from the surgeon's office .. it seems he wants a long weekend and has decided he cannot do my surgery that Friday morning. He can do it the previous Wednesday, or the following Monday.

If I do it on Wednesday, I'll be going under general anesthesia just about the same time my son will be going down the runway .. he won't be here until almost 5 hours later. He's my strength. How can I roll off to surgery without him there to hold my hand, to hug me & tell me everything will be alright, to look in his beautiful blue eyes and tell him I love him more than anything or anyone I've loved in my lifetime. He might make it here in time to be there when I wake up.

If I wait til the following Monday, then the majority of his trip is over before I even have surgery. His main reason in coming is to assist me afterward. I would come home on Tuesday .. he would fly out on Friday.

So I asked two questions. 1) Is there any possibility he would do the surgery on Thursday morning before he goes into his office for regular appointments ? She will ask, but even if he is agreeable, he may not be able to schedule the OR .. it's not his regular day. 2) What if I just call the whole thing off ? She says she doesn't understand. I clarify .. what if I just cancel the whole damn thing and take my chances. She is speechless.

How do you go from feeling confident and positive about cancer and treatment to just saying 'forget the whole thing' in a matter of minutes ?

Damn surgeons .. damn OR schedules .. damn trying to coordinate work .. damn airlines that won't let you change flights .. damn cancer.

It just seems like way too much trouble and disruption of lives for one little girl. What if someone finally stood up to cancer and said (borrowed from 'Pretty Woman') "I say when, I say where !" ?

I'm sure by morning that cool, confident voice of reason that lives waaaayyyy back in my brain and rarely surfaces, will come screaming out and war with the voice that says, 'now close your eyes, click your heels together three times, and say 'there's no place like home .. there's no place like home'.

A New Path

You see, it’s like this: my son says I need to start a blog. He says I should just say the things I’ve expressed to him in emails. I had never really thought about having a blog, although I’ve certainly enjoyed reading his, http://deaconbluesblog.com, and that of my best friend, http://heartsongshymnal.blogspot.com. Not sure I have the time or energy for regular posts, but I will try very hard to post at least every couple of weeks.

I have a fairly boring life, and I’ve learned to appreciate that. Boring = quiet, peaceful, soothing, uneventful .. going to work, coming home & reading on my deck, listening to birds sing, cuddling with my cat, Badajan. Since the end of March, however, my life has taken something of a detour. Last month I learned I have ‘non-invasive breast cancer’. The best & the worst in the same phrase.

I’ve been through the gauntlet of tests, an exam by my primary doctor, a mammogram, follow-up views, an ultrasound, an MRI, and then an ultrasound-guided core-needle biopsy which rendered the diagnosis ‘ductal carcinoma in situ’. I’ve spent hours searching medical websites and personal blogs in the hopes of finding accurate information and tips/advice from those who have actually experienced breast cancer.

I’m not sure about a personal blog .. well not just for showcasing cancer anyway. Part of me wants to share my experiences in order to help the women who follow me down this path .. the information I've found from individual women has been more encouraging than the medical websites. But at the same time, I really don't want breast cancer to overshadow my entire life, to consume it. I don't feel like a 'breast cancer victim' .. I feel like a whole woman who just happens to have breast cancer. I recognize that it will definitely take precedence over everything else for a few months, but I don't want it to steal my everyday life, my interests. But it's a 'part' of my life, so perhaps I should use a blog as an outlet if nothing else. At the same time, as much as I appreciate other peoples' encouragement and concern, it forces me to focus on just the cancer .. that's why I've tried to be selective in whom I tell .. to keep my life more 'normal'. And now it’s ‘out there’.

I’ve gone through the range of emotions .. disbelief (maybe it was a mistake), panic (I can *not* do this), fear, finding courage (and losing it again), accepting what is to come.

Next month I will be having a bilateral mastectomy. How is it I can say that so calmly ?? That’s just strange. What’s even stranger is I’ve begun to look for advantages of not having breasts. I will never have to wear a bra again unless I choose to. No more intense heat underneath. No more sweating underneath. But then I find myself looking down my shirt .. beautiful, full breasts that say ‘I’m female and I love it !’. Will I still feel feminine after they’re gone ?

One thing is certain. My life has already changed. It changed the moment I heard the words 'probable malignancy'. Even before it was confirmed, I was different. Many things I had once complained about vanished. People who had once intimidated me lost their power. The sky is more intriguing .. I find myself just staring at the bright blue, fluffy clouds, dark menacing clouds, the darkness of night. Jet trails fascinate me .. I long to be going to see my son. I actually smell the fragrance of the earth after rain. I don't just 'hear', but I listen to the beautiful bird songs. I've learned to recognize those things I'm thankful for every day.

This is an unchosen path, but one I must take, at least for this space of time. My deepest wish is that I can walk with courage, grace, and dignity. And that somehow, I can make it easier for those who follow me.