Category Archives: Hope

Detached

Change, Dating, Honesty, Hope, Learning, Perspective Shift, Self-Awareness

No matter how many times I say, “I’m done”… I’m not really done until the pit in my stomach, the tension in my back, and the ache in my heart subsides long enough to think clearly for a minute. I don’t know why all of that physical and emotional strain impacts every waking thought so much, but it does. And it sucks.

And that is exactly what happened this weekend.

On Thursday, it was 2 weeks since Mr. Avoidant dumped me over the phone and rushed back to his comfort zone. I accepted the 2-week mark as a definite “no going back” milestone to say the least. This was apparent after the first few days of no contact, but my heart didn’t know that. All my heart knew was hurt, which signaled my eyes to tear up unexpectedly, my mind to reminisce, and my left eye to constantly twitch.

On this Thursday of the 2-week mark, I started out strong – woke up and started my day as usual. But around 10 AM I started to get restless. The restless thoughts started again. I wasn’t about to go through another weekend sabotaging myself with more restless thoughts. I finally texted him. Yes, I texted Mr. Avoidant. Not to restart anything, just to see if we could talk – pointing out that such an abrupt ending was/is not healthy for either of us. I wasn’t expecting a response.

In less than 20 minutes, he texted right back. Very kindly saying he was sorry, that he still thinks about me constantly, would like to talk, and didn’t mean to hurt me. He said he was going fishing, and we’d talk soon. I simply said, “Ok, thank you.” I wasn’t about to fall into another one of his word traps. I know how nice he can be. And then he can turn around a dump you like a piece of trash because of his own insecurities. I thought saying “thank you” was just a good neutral response and then to be continued later.

To my surprise, I got more replies from him, saying he didn’t know what to say [the past two weeks], and he hoped I was doing well.

Since apparently “texting” is allowed now, I let him know I wasn’t very well because of too many feelings plus I’d been sick and on an antibiotic for chest congestion. He responded immediately “Oh no”… and blah blah fucking-blah. He tried to send me a joke. I told him I didn’t feel like laughing, just wanted to talk, missed my friend, and told him to catch some fish. I left it at that. No more responses, and then hours later in the evening he texts that he caught three fish. I responded “Yay good good”… and then there was no more responses from then on.

He’s gone on fishing trips before, so I knew he was with his friend and drinking and fishing and doing whatever they do. I figured I’d hear from him the next day or sometime during the weekend. I couldn’t sleep that night. I wavered between wanting to say all the words to get him back, and wanting to preserve my dignity and walk away with my head held high. I didn’t sleep too well on Thursday night or Friday night. I just wanted to make sure I could listen to him and not yell. That was my whole goal – try to gain a little more understanding, or not. But at least get some closure — to end this on a better note than it did.

Well, the weekend came and went. No more texts. No phone calls. Nothing.

I journaled all weekend. I cried more. I slept. I kept busy. On Saturday, I’d had it with my overactive mind and started cleaning out the basement. What started as a simple toy clean-out initiative turned into a gutting of old clothes and shoes that were clogging up my basement and our bedroom closets for entirely too long. After 3 hours, my car was full of 18 bags and 2 big boxes of donation items. Mostly clothes and shoes from me and my kids.

That felt good. As I cleaned out my own clothes, I threw out every piece of a clothing that conjured up any negative memory from the past. I had several items that my ex-husband had bought me or that I’d worn on an occasion that he ruined. So, in the trash bag it went.

I’m very much over my ex-husband, but I still have items laying around that remind me of him, or situations with him that I don’t like. Some things just are what they are, but if it’s a stupid shirt with a dumb memory associated with it and can be replaced easily, then hell with it. I don’t need it. I’m a 45-year adult with a great job, I can afford some new clothes here and there.

The closet clean-out was very therapeutic. I think my kids felt better too. I have a habit of cleaning out their drawers, but then I leave the pile of unwanted clothes sitting in the corner of their room for entirely too long instead of instantly putting it in a bag and donating it.

By the end of Saturday night, I was whooped. I was still expecting a call from Mr. Avoidant, but then somehow told myself he was probably busy and would reappear on Sunday night. Nope. We went to church, breakfast, and then went to a birthday party. No text. No call. I went to the grocery store and made dinner. No call. No text. I figured if he didn’t call this Sunday night, he’d likely never call.

And right then, realizing that if someone can’t give you the decency of a phone call after saying they would 3 days prior, that right there is pure disrespect and actually quite sad. It’s sad that he avoids life, and it’s sad that I face it head on and get this kind of treatment. That realization snapped me right out of it. Funny how it wasn’t the 2 weeks of avoidance, but the 3 more days of avoidance based on something he said he’d do and didn’t.

What can I say? I’m slow.

For the rest of Sunday night, I watched a show, didn’t look at my phone, didn’t check to see if he’d called or texted. Nor did I have the urge to. My phone attachment (to him) had been broken. My eye stopped twitching, my back stopped being tense, my heart hardened, and my dignity was no longer at risk of being compromised. Because, well, I hit my limit. I’m very much done.

This morning, I woke up feeling brand new. Mr. Avoidant was not my first thought in the morning. There wasn’t a dreadful thing weighing me down like the past 2 weeks.

Sometimes you don’t need the closure you think you need or deserve. Sometimes you just need to accept you were dumped by a moron and move on. I guess he was a good summer distraction while I grew my hair out from chemo.

I’m no longer distracted. I have more things to clean out of my basement. I didn’t survive months of breast cancer treatments to obsess over another person’s lack of effort. I have more life to live.

Stifle Me Not

Another Milestone Complete

Breast Cancer, Healing, Hope, Motivation, Radiation

Today marked my 28th and final radiation treatment. When I woke up today, I remembered that it was my last scan day. I was happy about that. I left work at the same time I always do, 10:18 AM, and arrived to radiation like I always do, waving to the receptionists. But today I announced it was my last scan. I changed my clothes and impatiently waited in my gown for the radiation technicians to call my name. I was a little sad to leave them. They have made this experience way better than I ever imagined. There are many nurses and technicians who have made this entire process so much better. I’m fortunate to have been surrounded by such great people. My scan went quickly, like it always does. I got dressed, rang the bell, and fled to freedom outside. I breathed in the outdoors, the freedom. I’m a blessed one. I know some people don’t make it this far.

Another milestone complete. I’m so proud of myself.

This year I’ve successfully completed:

  • Mastectomy/Recovery (Jan – March)
  • Chemo (March – May)
  • Radiation (June – July)

Next up: Hormone therapy (5 – 10 years) and a targeted treatment prescription (2 years) – just in case there are any rouge cells that try to form after chemo and radiation.

I feel good. I feel accomplished. I feel like I can keep going. And my hair is growing back, so that’s encouraging. I’d like to have hair before winter because it gets cold without much hair!

I know this journey isn’t over, but a new leg of it is just beginning. Go me!

Stifle Me Not

I Did It!

Breast Cancer, Cancer Sucks, Change, Healing, Hope, Motivation, Positive Attitude

Yesterday I completed my last round of chemotherapy. And today I got my last shot to increase my white blood count, which always follows the day after a chemo treatment. I was dreading this last treatment. And rightly so, I didn’t have a port, so my veins in my one arm are getting abused. Third poke was the charm, with the help of an ultrasound machine to locate a good vein. My doctor appointment went well after that, but then it took a couple of hours to be cleared from my bloodwork to start the infusion process — because my results were sent to the wrong department. My infusion lasted from Noon to 3 PM. And I finally got to ring the bell!

For as much dread as I’d had the last week leading up to this appointment, I was so excited to ring the bell! I was all smiles as so many nurses gathered around to clap for me and hug me and take pictures. As I walked out the exit, people in the waiting room were clapping for me. It felt great to get through this milestone!! I don’t ever want to do that again!!

Next week is my setup scan for the next milestone – Radiation. From what I hear, it’s way better than the chemo. And I get to start growing my hair back out!

I’m so proud of myself. I almost bypassed chemo altogether for fear of the side effects, but I think this was a good thing. It was doable. Hard, but doable.

Time to move into the next season. More goals ahead.

Stifle Me Not

In the Thick of It

Breast Cancer, Cancer Sucks, Hope, Learning

I’m doing it. I’m halfway through my chemo treatments. Monday was round 2 of 4. Yes, two down, two to go. The actual day of chemo is not hard. And neither is the day after. I’ve been keeping a little notebook of how my days are going and it seems to be that days 3 – 6 are the roughest so far. Yesterday was day 5, and I cried. I looked back in my notebook at what I wrote on day 5 after the first treatment. Yep, I cried. I have two more treatments where I have to be prepared for the emotional dip on day 5.

What a rollercoaster ride this is. Everyone demonizes chemotherapy, but I think all of the other drugs are a big culprit in the process. I think going on and off steroids each treatment messes with me more than the actual chemo. The day before a treatment, you load up on steroids. You continue that the day of, and after, treatment. Also, during treatment, they give you an additional dose through your IV. I’m all hopped up on roids the first 3 days! Then, once I miss the first does of steroids on day 3, I start to go downhill feel like complete crap. The sweating is endless, I feel like a little drunk stumbling around my house, and eating becomes a game.

I’m noticing a pattern. It’s known that you get nauseous or sick during chemo, but I guess no one really steps you through WHY this happens and how you can get through it easier. You get nauseous because eventually your body wants to eliminate all of this hard stuff out of your body. What you do or eat leading up to that first “elimination” is pretty key to how the experience goes. No matter what, your body is going to force out stuff, and you just have to help it along the best you can. I was way more conscious of my food and hydration choices this round, and I really think that helped me. I’m also trying to move around more. Too much sitting is not good. Rest is good, but no movement throughout the day is not good.

Today is a better day than the last week, but today is a tricky day. It’s a day where I feel mentally better, but physically I’m not ready yet. I’m happy to know there was a clearing last time and I can feel the clearing coming this time. My patience has never been so tested in all my life. I’ve never wanted to fast forward through something so bad in all my life. But here I am, in the thick of it.

Although this is hard, I think I’m going to be happy I did this later on. A couple of days ago I woke up and my hair, on my already shaved head, was falling out even more. I needed my 15-year-old daughter’s help with shaving it down more. She didn’t hesitate to help me and patiently helped me shave it down to a zero. I told her how much I appreciated her help and how much I love her. And I told her I’ll be there for her in the middle of the night when she has babies later on and needs help with them. She just said “you better”. And we laughed.

I realized I’m going through this hard time not just to live for me and my kids now, but to also be there for my kids when their days get tougher as adults. I’ve needed my parents more now in my 40s than I did in my teens or 20s. I want that for my kids too.

Stifle Me Not

Fighting the Good Fight Against Myself

Breast Cancer, Cancer Sucks, Change, God, Hope, Overthinking, Positive Attitude

It’s one week until I start chemo. I am, quite frankly, terrified.

I know this a last week of normal-as-I-know-it. I thought being diagnosed and having a mastectomy messed with my normal, but I returned to normalish pretty quickly after getting back to work. Returning to work helped me get back into a familiar routine. The worst of it is trying to quiet my mind about what’s next.

I’ve been trying hard not to try too hard. I’m trying to enjoy day as much as possible, but knowing chemo is right around the corner is really messing with me. I feel like I just got my life back from healing from surgery, and I appreciate each good morning. I wake up every morning and feel pretty good, think of what day it is, and immediately think of how many more days I have until I have strong drugs infused into my body. I woke up crying two days in a row, just because I was overwhelmed within my first few thoughts of the day.

Three weeks ago, I started on two drugs: an injection that’s supposed to suppress my ovary function and a daily aromatase inhibitor pill. The pill lowers estrogen levels, which helps to decrease growth of any breast cancer cells. Since getting the injection and being on the pills, I feel an overall difference in my body, energy, joints, etc. The first week was full of head and body aches. It improved by week 2. It’s not the worst, but it’s not a carefree-breezy-feeling-body anymore.

Last week, my doctor told me to stop the pill while I go through chemo and radiation. I’ve felt great since being off the pill for a week. I think my fear is valid. Not only are chemo and radiation going to have their own set of side effects, but there’s no returning to my current “normal”. After the major treatments are over, I’ll be on pills for a good part of the next decade.

The diagnosis I received in November is supposedly the “good kind” that is highly treatable. After learning of my diagnosis, it was immediately followed up with, “but it’s non-aggressive and treatable”. That made me feel better for a little while, until I experienced how the treatment makes me feel. What they don’t tell you is the drugs alter your everything. Your life flips upside down just as much as someone else’s life. In my case, instead of gradually entering into older age, I’m being forced into menopause (and more) all within a few months. This sounds so much simpler than it actually is.

Sounds. So. Simple.

People often refer to cancer patients as “fighters”. The definition of a fighter is someone who doesn’t easily admit defeat in spite of difficulties or opposition. The truth is, yes, you’re fighting, but you’re not fighting anything or anyone but yourself. You’re relinquishing complete control, and that’s the hardest part of the fight. I’m not in control of any of this. Yes, I’m questioning my treatment options along the way and making a few key decisions. But whichever path I take, I’m releasing control and having to trust outside of my own actions.

If you refuse treatment, you give up control of knowing what’s going on in your body. If you agree to treatment, you’re handing control over to doctors and nurses. Even if you’re somewhere in the middle, in which you agree to some treatment and not others, you’re still left with not really controlling a damn thing. Something could get away from you, or someone could screw up something. You’re constantly fighting you own doubts, worries, fears, etc.

So when you hear someone say, “he or she is a fighter”, it’s not untrue. They’ve become masters at fighting their constant thoughts and emotions. This is where mind over matter comes in. I’ve heard about this, but I see it now. I see how you have to keep your attitude going in a more positive direction to influence your physical well-being.

A mental battle I keep encountering is handling other people’s thoughts and emotions too. Not everyone operates the way I do, and that can frustrate me. I’ve already overanalyzed every possible thing about my treatment, so when someone else does it in front of me, I’m already over it. I don’t want to discount their valid feelings, but I also don’t want to spend more time on something I’ve already conquered in my own mind. I don’t want to be set back.

Something that does keep setting me back emotionally, which I really hate, is that I’m upset that my family is helping me out. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family and that they’re there for me. I’m so happy and blessed to have them. But I had a husband once upon a time, and he decided to cheat on me because he’s a selfish narcissist. Now he’s off having fun with his girlfriend, while avoiding serving an important caretaker role in my life. Now, 6 years later, of course I don’t want him to take care of me, but I can’t help but feel like I should be his mess. He should be the one taking me to appointments and worrying about me, but I know if he was here he’d blow the fight right out of me.

So I can’t help but wonder if all of this will have some weird twisty ending in which it was supposed to happen this way. And I continuously go back to God must be mysteriously up to something. I don’t know what it is, and I won’t know what it is for a while. But it’s all for something, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

Stifle Me Not

The Power of a Second Opinion

Breast Cancer, God, Hair, Hope

Today is my last day of medical leave. On Monday I return to work, but it won’t be without more future days out. I thought that going to my oncologist appointment on February 19th would bring great relief. It was quite the opposite. Not only did I not get the treatment recommendation I was hoping for, but I completely refused it and left more confused than when I first started this whole process. I didn’t refuse out of being stubborn, I refused out of being confused. I can’t move forward with something that will affect my health without fully understanding it.

I would have been okay with getting a treatment recommendation I didn’t want if I understood why I was getting it. Up to this point, most signs pointed to no chemo for me. There was so much hype about this oncotype score I got, and when I got a “good” score paired that with the previous conversation with my doctor, I was in complete shock when she walked in the door and started reading from her computer (rather than looking me straight in the face) that “it is recommended that you get chemo”. Of course I questioned it. And she kept saying “it will be really strong, and over 6 months”. She said “there is a 7% difference between the group that gets the chemo and the group that doesn’t get the chemo”… but she didn’t specify what the 7% really meant. Recurrence? Mortality? I tried asking so many questions, but I was frustrated and couldn’t find all the words. Her answers were not explanations, they were couple-word answers as she peered at me over the top of her mask. I felt crazy. And I just didn’t like her. Her bedside manner quite frankly sucks.

Something about that type of chemo regimen for “early stage” breast cancer just wasn’t sitting well with me. That, paired with the fact that 7% didn’t seem like much of a difference to move forward. Also, that’s not all there is to my “plan”. There’s also radiation, hormone therapy, and an additional cancer drug. I left her office refusing chemo and proceeding with hormone therapy, with radiation scheduled in the coming weeks. I was pissed. I was at peace that I refused her recommendation, but not at peace that I knew enough to be confident in my decision for the long term.

I got a recommendation from my cousin for a second opinion. The next day I immediately called to schedule an appointment. They got me in one week later, which was yesterday.

I was so nervous. It was a virtual video call. I waited about two minutes for the oncologist to appear. Right away he told me he read my file and asked what the best way was he could help. I told him about my concerns with the chemo recommendation. His response was so clear and so confident. It was just what I needed. He said he did absolutely recommend chemo, but not the kind the original oncologist was prescribing for me. He said her plan was too much for what I actually needed. Her plan involved 6 months of frequent chemo. He was recommending 4 rounds of a less toxic chemo over the course of 12 weeks (once every three weeks). He then explained why it was important to get it. He agreed with the radiation, but he strongly disagreed with the cancer drug she was planning for me.

He was a light a big ray of clarity that I have needed this whole time. He stated his medical opinion (didn’t just read from a computer screen), and he shared why he thought that way, and he referenced facts and statistics.

I wanted him to be my doctor. The only problem is that he’s over an hour away from my home, and its logistically more complicated to be treated by him than to go with a doctor nearby. It’s not impossible, I was about to hop in my car and go to his office after being so pleased with how he communicated. He said he would discuss his approach with my original oncologist if she’d be willing to let me move forward with his treatment plan at my nearby facility.

That was at 3:00 yesterday afternoon. By 10 o’clock this morning, I received a call from my local cancer center scheduling me to move forward with his plan, under the direction of my original doctor. So they worked it out. I’m not jumping over the moon, because who wants chemo? I don’t think anyone is jumping for joy for getting an infusion, but I’m pleased with the outcome.

I now have clarity. I now have a plan. I hate confusion. I know there are no guarantees with any decision you make, but I’d at least like to have some amount of confidence I’m moving in the right direction for my own well-being.

I know I type this anonymously, so no one knows what I look like. I have fairly long dark brown hair. It has never been dyed, so it has strands of silver “tinsel” throughout it. I’ve always really liked my hair. I’ve had it short, as in a long bob, a few times in my lifetime, but for the most part, it’s part of who I am. It air dries in soft waves around my face, or sometimes I use the blow dryer and hair straightener to smooth it out. Either way, it looks natural and has always been part of me. I should probably be more worried about all of the drug side effects other than hair loss, but I’m pretty sad to part with my hair for a little while, no matter how vain that might sound. I also don’t want to see the reactions of others. I just don’t want to deal with it.

I was really hoping I could avoid chemo altogether and not have to worry about this at all. It’s just today that I’m realizing just how much I unconsciously play with strands of my hair while I’m doing other things.

I have a hair appointment already scheduled for tomorrow to cut some length off of it to start. I start chemo in 25 days. I already had a hair appointment set up just because I needed a fresh cut before returning to work, but I think I’m going to chop it off above my shoulders to start to lessen the shock when I do have to shave it off. And I’m not going to try to save it with a cold cap or anything like that. I will start from scratch.

Three months. I keep telling myself that by June, I can begin regrowing my hair.

Today was my last visit to the plastic surgeon for a while. I have an expander in, and it’s expanded to its potential. Now I wait to get real reconstruction after my treatment is all complete.

Cancer diagnosis was 11/23/23.

Mastectomy was 1/22/24.

Chemo will begin 3/25/24.

Radiation should begin June 2024.

Next visit with the plastic surgeon is scheduled 9/12/24. I am hopeful I can get reconstruction before the end of this year.

All of this sucks, but it sucks less knowing that I now have some milestones to achieve rather than living in a world of confusion and frustration. I’ve said a lot of prayers lately, and praying for clarity has been one of them. I stopped trying to pray for certain outcomes. God has a His reasons for those, but I pray He takes away my worry/fear/anxiety and gives me peace and clarity to keep moving forward.

In fact, quick story before I end. On February 22nd, a few days after my disappointing oncologist appointment, I was so distraught. I couldn’t concentrate, I kept crying. I wasn’t sure what to do. I already placed a call to my original doctor’s office about putting in for a second opinion, but I was waiting for the second doctor’s office to call me. I finally grabbed my rosary, looked up what mystery day it was, and started praying – all while sobbing big tears down my face. As soon as I finished the first set of ten beads, my phone rang. It was the second doctor’s office calling to set up my appointment. I was in a little bit of shock, but at that moment I knew I was on this path for a reason and God is watching out for me. I just have to trust Him. So I am.

Stifle Me Not

Week 4 Recovery

Healing, Hope

What a difference a fourth week of recovery makes. I thought I felt good after week 3, but now I’m getting to the end of week 4 and impressed with how much quicker I pop up from my seat, get in / out of the car, and even multi-task around my kitchen. Go me.

I’ve had no appointments to worry about this week. It’s been a nice break from doctors. Doctor visits cause emotions – good or bad. And emotions send my mind racing. It’s been nice to be left alone for a week. It’s just me, healing, listening to my body to move or rest. Just me doing my own thing without needing anyone to watch over me. My parents and siblings check on me regularly, which I fully appreciate. But I’m finally independent to drive my kids to and from school and sports. I even made a trip to the grocery store on Monday morning. It wasn’t the usual hustle & bustle of the grocery store, more of a calm pace of retirees and stock boys, but it was just the trial run I needed being out in public on my own again.

On Monday, Feb 19th, I will kick off the week going to the oncologist. This is my official appointment that sets the stage for the next few months. Chemo or no chemo? That is the question weighing on my mind. It must be fully weighing on me more than I realize because I had an awful dream. In this dream, I was told I needed one more test, and this test would be positive or negative. If it was one result, I’d die in a few days. If it was another result, everything would be fine.

I woke up before the result came back.

All this to say, clearly my next visit to the oncologist, and her interpretation of my recent tests, is getting to me, despite another doctor telling me “good news”. I can’t really rest easy until I hear it from the oncologist’s mouth.

It’s funny because a doctor visit is usually only about 15 to 20 minutes long. I spend all this time fretting about it, or more so trying not to fret about it, and then it’s a quick visit, I’m done, and what’s been said has been said. It’s so odd how everything matters and doesn’t matter.

I know either way I’ll be fine. I know either way I’ll get through whatever needs to be done. But man, this is a mental load. I’m trying to live each day looking forward to the good things of the day. The yummy meal for lunch, the fact that I can now fold laundry, a nice hot shower, and the fact that I don’t need to rely on anyone to pick up my kids from school. Those are now all very wonderful things.

I have two more weeks of medical leave left. I don’t intend on going back to work in the same way that I left. I started to worry about work details for a minute, but I plan to refocus my energy when I return. I need to make a change on my work habits when I return or it will eat me alive. Whether I have chemo or not, I know I’ll have radiation. So when I return, there is more that my body has to go through. And in however many more months, I’ll need another reconstructive surgery. I can’t afford the energy output at work that I used to use. It will be physically impossible.

I’m so blessed I’ve been working at my job for almost 5 years. I’ve built great relationships with everyone and have earned respect of the owners and officers. I won’t be at 100% at work for the next few months, but I think they’ll support me. I hope so.

This is quite the rambling blog post. Not much to share except that I’m grateful for each day and I’m feeling much better. I know a lot lies ahead, but right now the good outweighs the bad and that works for me.

Stifle Me Not

Hope

Breast Cancer, Healing, Hope

I’m grateful for this new week. This new week gave me hope. After not getting my drain removed last week, I was kind of down. It’s the little things that can get you down. Taking a shower with an attachment to your side, having to worry about changing out the gauze around it, and constantly having to track your drain levels is just exhausting. Also sleeping. Sleeping is challenging when you have to make sure you don’t roll over on, or accidentally pull on, your drain. I went through the motions all week, day-by-day doing all the things I could do, not thinking too far ahead just so I could keep going.

On Wednesday afternoon, I had an appointment with my radiation doctor. I put zero thought into this appointment. I had been jotting down questions for all of my other appointments, but I suppose I was just tired of it all. I viewed this visit as a simple consultation of what was to come in a few months. I had no hopes or fears for this visit. I was just showing up.

My stepmom picked me up. I was aggravated about going to another place with the damn drain in. Fast forward and we’re in the exam room waiting on the doctor. To my surprise, a younger female doctor appeared. She initially looked too young to be a doctor, but as discussion unfolded, she proved to clearly know her stuff. In the middle of our discussion, she blurted out that she saw my oncotype score had returned. And she asked if I wanted to know what it is?

What?

I was stunned. I wasn’t expecting to hear about this score until February 19th at my next oncologist visit. It was only February 7th at this point. I wanted to know, but I didn’t want to know…

Before I could say much more, she tells me that it’s 18.

This score can be anywhere between 1 – 100. If it’s over 25, you’re in for chemo. If it’s under 25, it’s a maybe, depending on how close it is to 25. My oncologist said last week, for me, it would need to be below 22. And here I’m learning that my score returned at 18. I almost started crying, except I wasn’t sure if it was real. I wasn’t sure if I should be excited by a different doctor telling me this information since it wasn’t my oncologist telling me it.

The radiation doctor said she’d be very surprised, and would question, if the oncologist did insist on chemo for me. She printed off my score results and explained them to me a little more. I was in shock. Happy shock. That was the most hope I’d had in two months. I loved that this doctor explained everything so well. She continued to talk through the radiation process with me and how to prepare for that. For an appointment that I had no expectations for, she sure turned my dreary outlook around, even with the drain still attached.

The next morning, I had another follow up appointment with the plastic surgeon. I suppressed my hopes for this visit because I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment if they didn’t remove the drain again. But to my happy surprise, they did! I have never felt so free! My stepmom and I went to breakfast afterward. I happily drank coffee and ate French toast. In that moment, life was so good.

Today I woke up with no drain to worry about and hope of possibly not having chemo. What a great way to wake up! I drove my son to school, went to the drug store to pick up a couple things, and came home and made myself an omelet. I then took a very long shower. It was an overdue loooong shower. I’ve been so grateful all day.

I’ve been saying extra prayers the past few months. And many many people have been praying for me. I know on the surface when you hear “I’m praying for you”, it sounds like a nice thoughtful gesture. But I believe everyone’s prayers, including my own, are being heard and answered. I think there’s more than meets the eye going on here. I truly hope and continue pray that on February 19th I’m told chemo is not needed.

Stifle Me Not

Not Alone

Breast Cancer, Cancer Sucks, Hope, ,

I’ve had some time to absorb my new health news, the news that I apparently have cancer. Cancer – what a word. It sounds like you’re dying before you even know you have it. It sounds awful. It makes people shudder. The actual word is uncomfortable to say and hear, and I’ve been trying to get used to knowing that I have it.

And what is cancer? It’s your body not handling its own cells properly. It’s your own body, gene mutation or not, overgrowing cells. We’ve conditioned ourselves to fear multiplying cells. The underlying reason behind the cells being out of control, and the degree of the aggressiveness of the cells, is all key to starting a treatment plan. But man, your gut instinct is to fear the worst.

Somehow, in the past couple of weeks, I’ve evened out. I’ve moved into the acceptance phase. I have two weeks until surgery, and I know as much information as possible at this point in the process. I’m noticing others around me are moving in the acceptance phase too. It’s weird. I still feel stuck in the twilight zone, like what is actually happening? But I’m not afraid like I was initially. I’m ready to push forward, keeping in mind that the pace of my brain may not be the same pace as my body.

Yesterday at work, I found out a co-worker of mine is having surgery next week after discovering a nodule on her lung. Lung cancer. She just found out the night before. I could see and feel the fear in her eyes. She was trying to be very matter of fact about it and trying to focus on her work. She kept telling me she was more worried about my condition and my upcoming surgery. Ugh, no, no one’s condition or surgery is better or worse than the other. I’ve never understood someone’s underlying feelings more in a moment than when she came in my office to tell me her news. Her cancer news.

I’ve had some time to absorb my news, but she only has a week to absorb her news.

This woman with lung cancer, she has been at our company for about 25 years. When I first started, 5 years ago, I didn’t like her. She was a know-it-all and rude. She always tried to be a hard ass. I quickly discovered she was a product of being one of the only female managers in a 100-year-old company – she developed copying mechanisms to keep up with/put up with all the personalities of the hard ass male managers over the years. When I came to the company, she wasn’t very kind on more than once occasion, and I let her have it right back. I wasn’t putting up with her negativity. A few years ago, the president was ready to terminate her. He’d had it with her negativity too and was ready to part ways with her.

A colleague of mine, and her direct manager, were called in to give our thoughts on her being terminated. It was tempting, I didn’t like her, but I knew the company would suffer without her, and I thought maybe she could improve if given the chance. I knew my perspective in my position was powerful and I could cause her professional damage if I didn’t tread carefully. The other manager and I insisted on keeping her. I wasn’t sure if it was worth pushing back at the time, but I’m glad I did. We witnessed her really working on herself over the past few years. She has turned into a whole new person, she shed the negativity, and I’ve really gotten to know her much better.

I’m very sorry to hear of her cancer news. But I kind of feel like we have this new bond. This understanding that no one else gets. I truly hope she comes out of this okay. And I know she feels the same way for me.

God has more prayers coming to him, and they aren’t for me this time.

Stifle Me Not

Sometimes Life Just Sucks

Hope, Yard Care

It’s been one hell of a rollercoaster ride the last few of weeks. On Wed, Sept 28th my daughter complained of her side hurting. Kids complain a lot. I’m used to dismissing most things as an ache or growing pain, and then it’s never talked about again. She persisted through the evening that it really hurt. I told her to put a heating pad on it, thinking it could be a pulled muscle. The next morning she said she couldn’t go to school because she was in too much pain, so I made her an appointment with her pediatrician. He ordered blood work and we waited. The results came in later that afternoon and all appeared normal. She woke up on Friday morning, doubled over in pain. I rushed her to the Emergency Room.

After 10 hours in the ER, she was diagnosed with having a large softball-sized cyst in the left side of her abdomen. Five days later, on Wed, Oct 5th, she had surgery to have it removed. Everything went well. They removed the large cyst, but it was also entangled in her left fallopian tube, so it had to be removed as well. Her ovary was untouched and able to remain. Her reproductive system will be fine. I was so relieved for her.

She ended up needing to stay two nights in the hospital. It was difficult, but necessary since she had a c-section type incision. She was such a trooper. I am so proud of her. She was discharged the afternoon of Fri., Oct 7th. The weekend was a good start to her recovery. She has been improving very well each day and can hopefully return to school next week.

In the midst of all this chaos, I was a bit of an anxious wreck, but I was taking it day by day. In between her ER visit and her surgery date, I did many things around the house and pre-planned for a change in our normal routine with my work and her brother’s schedule too. The weekend before her surgery, I did some much-needed yardwork and cleared out overgrown flower beds on one side of my house. It was a nice day and therapeutic to be outside, burning off some of the anxiety of the week to come. I showered immediately after doing yard work, happy to have another thing checked off my list.

On the day of my daughter’s surgery, I scratched at my forearm while in the waiting room. Then scratched again, pulled up my sleeve, and saw a small red rash. I was so stressed out from my daughter’s surgery and now having to hang out with her father for the next 3+ days, that I immediately thought I had some kind of stress rash. I wiped it off with some alcohol and put some hydrocortisone cream on it. For the next couple of days, that’s all I did with it. It did not become worse. A couple of people asked me if it could be poison ivy. Nah, it wasn’t very big and even though I did yardwork recently, it was 5 days ago.

Fast forward to Mon, Oct 10th, and I had a pus-filled golf ball-sized boil on my forearm as well as welts popping popping all over both of my arms and on the side of my face. WTF? I was itchy and in pain and the most uncomfortable I have been in a very long time. By this time I realized it probably was poison ivy, but I still wasn’t convinced since it had been so many days since I’d done yard work. It had been 10 days. I’m typically a research junkie about just about anything. But with everything going on, I never once looked up timeline information on poison ivy rash. Apparently it can start forming up to 5 days after being in contact with it, and it can continue popping up wherever you made contact with it and it can last up to a month. WHAT!?

On Tue, Oct 11th, I took myself to urgent care. It was the fastest urgent care visit I’ve ever had. They took one look at my miserable rash and prescribed me a topical cream and some prednisone to start the relief process. Little did I know that the rest of the week was going to be miserable with my best relief being cold water and ice packs, alcohol wipes, and hydrocortisone cream. My nerves are shot, I’m wired and tired at the same time.

I’ve been trying my best to work at home, care for my daughter, care for my son, and maintain some sort of functional comfort with this poison ivy rash, but it has been so difficult. I can’t sleep at night. I fall asleep quickly but wake up at 1 AM with my arms burning with itchiness. I spend the next two hours trying to relieve the itch and pain, only to wake up to my alarm to face another day of discomfort, work, and mom duties.

Somehow I managed to go to two nights of parent-teacher conferences in the middle of this week. Not ideal, but I had to get all of my daughter’s missed work, and I definitely had to keep tabs on my son’s behavior. Tinted moisturizer and mascara helped make me looked somewhat normal despite the red splotches covering the left side of my face. I slapped on a smile and got that mom crap done.

Last night I hit a breaking point after 1 and 1/2 weeks of nonstop stress. I went into the bathroom for my evening routine of running cold water over my rashy arms and hot tears rolled out of my eyes while I sobbed uncontrollably at the pure suckiness of life at the moment. I was so happy that my daughter has been recovering so well, but I personally felt like complete shit. I’ve had two babies, gone through a divorce, had my career crash (and rebuild), had to live at my parents, have had horrible dates this year, have put up with lice in my home, have experienced people dying in my life… and I’m letting a poison ivy rash break me?

That’s when I realized that it was PMS week, and just about anything was going to make me break. Haha!

October is half way over and has sucked the whole time. I guess sometimes life just sucks. Today is feeling better. I think the prednisone is finally starting to take effect after 4 days. I’m hoping for an upward swing for all of us.

Stifle Me Not