Much Ado About Close to Nothing

Everything went just swimmingly yesterday. It was almost anticlimactic after all of my nervousness. My radiation oncologist says I am healing well and doesn't want to see me for another six months, my chemo oncologist wrote me a new tamoxifen prescription and doesn't want to see me for three months, and best of all everything looked good with the mammogram! Life is good!

First February Post

Well I almost made it a month without checking in. I must say I am enjoying not having cancer as the be all and end all for me. I can make it an hour or two without even thinking about it and can go half a day or so without it coming up in conversation. I even have writer's block when it comes to this blog! I just don't have any drama for all of you and find my nice happy life a little boring. :) I find I laugh and smile even more often than I did BBC (before breast cancer). Which really is a nice thing to be able to say. It's a very pleasant side affect for me. I know I keep talking about it but still when something starts to get me down I just have to think about what I've been through to know that any day I am healthy is a day of joy. I hope I can keep that feeling of joy to continue. I've been out playing every weekend with trips to Las Vegas, Tucson, Sedona just in the last three weeks. I don't intend to slow down at all but I do get tired easily still. I am reminded of it all every time I look in the mirror or try to run my fingers through my hair. It's almost been four months since my last chemo treatment (do you believe it's been that long!) and my hair is still less than an inch long. sigh..... Work is going great with all sorts of fun challenges and great co-workers. Maddie is well but slowing down a bit more all the time. I love my life.

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Tomorrow though I go back to the cancer center for appointments with both oncologists and my first mammogram since the lumpectomy. 90% of me knows that everything is going to look fine, the lump I can feel under the incision is just scar tissue, and I'll get to say hi to old friends and not go back for another six months. The other 10% of me is darting around my brain bouncing against the walls freaked out that things won't look that fine. I can't even imagine what my reaction will be if I ever hear that the cancer is back and if I let that 10% take over even for a little bit tonight I think I'd be curled up on the bathroom floor crying. Even though I have said I wasn't worried and I've tried every argument I could think of to get him not to - Greg is going with me tomorrow. Do you believe it's still hard for me to accept the support of others? I am so appreciative that he is taking time out of his busy schedule and that I will have him there with me but at the same time I feel bad for causing all this ruckus. Anyway, that's my excitement for the month and I'll post tomorrow night whatever I find out. Good Night!

Checking In

Sorry I haven't blogged in awhile. I've been trying out my "new" normal life as a cancer survivor without spending too much time being introspective.

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Physically I am starting to feel OK. I am getting most of my hair back. I've got about an inch on the top of my head, my eyebrows are back for good and I think my eyelashes are actually coming back in thicker than before. I'm don't have pain anymore and feel like my strength is about back to the "old" normal levels. I do still get really tired at the end of the day and when I push things too far I hit a wall and end up in bed asleep by 8 or so. Each day though I get more of my energy back.

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Mentally I still struggle now and then with conversation - finding the words to convey what I am trying to say is very frustrating to me. I have become a stutterer. I've also started this annoying habit of biting my lower lip when I need a few moments to come up a correct response in a conversation. Making simple decisions can also stymie me. I am sure I can be very frustrating to those around me when I can't even make the simple decision of what I want to drink. It's hard to explain but it's like my brain shuts down when I am given a few different choices. And I still blank out every once in awhile and find myself sitting or standing in mid-motion with no idea how long I've been there like that. It just happened this evening. I "awoke" to find myself standing in my hallway with no idea how I got there or which way I was going or what I had been doing. Very odd. Oh and then trying to remember things drives me crazy. I have to take my pill every night. And every night I go to take my pill and I make a mental note that I am taking the pill and then ten minutes later I can remember meaning to take the pill, I can remember making a mental note of taking the pill but I can't for the life of me remember actually taking the pill. It drives me crazy. It is so stinkin annoying - and it happens every single night! I bet there are nights I end up taking two or three pills. Geesh! I like to think that I've become good at acting like I am "normal" to those who are around me when I have these little mental breakdowns but I worry that I don't do a very good job of it.

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It's hard for me to believe it's only been three weeks since I got out of treatment - mentally it feels like months and months. I try not to think about cancer all the time and have been so busy both on and off work that it hasn't been too hard. For the first time since I started this blog I went back and read a couple of my posts from last August and September. Wow - it kind of brought back how hard it was and I had to quit reading. Plus all of the typos were driving me nuts. :)

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I went back to the hospital this week to pick up a prescription. I ended up sobbing for 15 minutes in the parking lot. Being there brought all the memories of the past seven months back and I then let a bit of worry for the future sneak into my fore thoughts. I remembered the "it is cancer" phone call in all it's gut wrenching glory and then imagined how much worse it will be if I ever get the same call again. I try to never let myself think "if" but that morning the "if" snuck up on me. The thought of hearing that diagnosis again knowing what I know now about cancer "treatments" took my breath away. So mentally I obviously have a few things to work through. Hopefully it's nothing a few good hikes and weekends out exploring won't cure!

Random Pictures

Lots of snow on my BBQ

The Vortex growing on my head
Radioactive Sign on my desk - it brought some levity and laughter to the office when most people didn't know what to say or how to act.

Radiation Room - notice hot air balloon picture on the ceiling lights in the upper left corner of the picture. The chemo room had a picture of blue sky and clouds. At least they try to make the cancer center pretty and relaxing.

It is official - I passed cancer!

Chemo 4 Surgeries 3 Radiation 33 Linda Won!

It is finished. It's been almost six months to the day that I was diagnosed back in early July. It seems like it was just yesterday but feels like it's been my entire life. Dad and Mom both came with me this morning. It was the worst driving conditions for Dad today of the whole ordeal with lots of snow and ice. I don't think he is going to miss the three hour commute we had each day. I know I never would have been able to do what I have done without him and Mom taking care of me. And I am really going to miss them. The staff was great at the cancer center with everyone coming around to congratulate me. They gave me a certificate that everyone signed, a book on what's next for me as a cancer survivor who has finished treatment, and an african violet. I don't have to go back until February 10th for meetings with each of my oncologists. In all I missed four days of work for surgeries, four days for chemo treatment days, four days from chemo pain, and a couple of half days from radiation fatigue.

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A lot has happened in my life in the past six months. Not all of it cancer related - believe it or not. I've gained a wonderful relationship with someone who is smarter than me if can you believe that :), started a fun challenging new job, moved into a comfy house with the perfect back yard, have four new scars, gained a huge appreciation for health care workers, explored some beautiful areas of Arizona and Utah, for the first time ever I used up all of my sick days at work, moved away from friends that I still miss terribly every single day, lost all of the hair on my body, look ten years older, felt more physical pain than I thought I could bear, heard some great new songs with lyrics that seemed written for me("December never felt so wrong"), learned that no matter how badly I felt for myself there are so many out there with much bigger struggles, first saw Charlie and Candy Mountain, went from the scared new girl to the wizened old timer in the radiation waiting room, brought home hundreds of cards of support from the post office, reaffirmed what a fantastically supportive family I am blessed to have, wrote checks for thousands of dollars, was bamboozled, made new friends (thanks chemo angels Linda and Cindy!), hated every single stinkin' second of being bald, gained weight, then lost some of the gained weight, learned way more than I ever dreamed about breast cancer, read lots of books, wrote lots of long wordy blogs like this one, felt pretty good about myself and all that I have and will accomplish, was blown away by all the support I received, gained an appreciation for every day that is not a chemo day, learned to wear hats, kept ignoring the elephant, and learned for a fact that laughter really is the best medicine.

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I was going to quit writing this blog in the next few days. I have even decided the opening and ending lines of the final blog. But I've got a few more pictures to post and a few more thoughts about cancer rattling around in my head. So, I think you are stuck with me for a little while longer anyway.

Guest Blog

I’ll never forget the day Linda smiled and told me “I have cancer.”

Day to day, it’s so easy to lose track of what’s important. We’re all guilty of it, it’s so easy to be distracted. You have to go to work, bills have to be paid, food has to be put on the table. Every once in a while, you’re reminded what’s really important in life.

I’m moved by the strength that Linda has had through her ordeal. Through everything, Linda has been fighting back with a smile and her sense of humor; I know she’s felt terrible, but her smile and attitude is her armor. I admire that.

We all want to know what we can do to help…probably not much I suppose, other than being there (which unfortunately, we can’t always do). That’s frustrating for all of us, but we’re happy for what Linda’s family has done to help.

Now, several months later, with one treatment left, Linda is still smiling. I’m so happy to be here with her as she closes this chapter in her life. :)

-Greg

Happy New Year!

May all of you have an incredibly wonderful, adventurous, and happy new year!

Guest Blog

Good can come from the bad. We have so enjoyed our trips to the Grand Canyon and to Linda's house. The scenery is beautiful, the people are so nice, and spending time with Linda and Madison has been special. The preventive treatments are hard to endure for Linda, and for us to watch, but the good news was that the no cancer was found outside the tumor. The hard part is wondering what might show up in the future and when, or if. Many of us live with this fear but we trust in God and live our lives the best we can for the years we have left. Linda's grandfather went through a difficult time with cancer 28 years ago and is still doing well. We look forward to our trip to Linda's today and to the last trip for cancer treatment next week. We have so enjoyed the area and all that it has to offer. We will be back often!

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Linda's Dad

The End is Tantalizingly Close

Only six more radiation treatments left. Six. 1,2,3,4,5,SIX! That seems like nothing compared to thirty-three. In November, thirty-three just seemed to be so insurmountable. I couldn’t even imagine making it to the end of thirty-three. Six seems so doable. When I reach out to six, it is right there at the end of my finger tips. Tantalizingly close. But as much as I stretch for it, still out of reach. Six should feel like a number I could do in my sleep with both hands and a foot tied behind my back. But when I start to think that this adventure might be over, six seems huge. Huge mentally. I want to be excited to be finished but I almost don’t want to jinx it. I don’t want to assume that I can finally go back to being Linda and then find out she’s not at all able to come back yet or not at all. I want “normal" not a “new normal”. I wish I could write all sorts of triumphant blogs; “what I learned from cancer”, "what’s next for Linda - a vacation!”, “I didn’t get an A but at least I didn’t fail cancer”, “I am grateful to all my friends and family for being there with me”, etc. I should be able to spend the next month writing happy future facing blogs. But instead every time I think about finishing my cancer treatment I mentally freeze up and physically start holding my breath. I’d like to say that I don’t start to wonder if maybe I’m not done forever or that I don’t worry that maybe I didn’t make the best treatment decisions. But I do. Not much but I do worry. I worry about all sorts of things but mostly I worry about my health in the future. If I have a recurrence and have to go through this again it is a whole new ballgame. Will I have the strength to do it all again? No idea. Seriously – none. I still can’t believe I walked back into that chemo room three more times after I knew what was going to happen. Yeah – just now took my breath away just thinking about it. I just so want this done – wholly totally utterly outright entirely finally absolutely forever done. So, I’ll be sitting here holding my breath for the next week and a half. Six. Such a little number.

Merry Christmas from the Grand Canyon

It was cold, windy, snowy, and cloudy this morning at the canyon. We stopped to look over the edge not really expecting to see much. Instead we got the perfect Christmas morning present - a sight I will not forget. The clouds had opened up just enough to let through the light of the sunrise into the depths of the canyon. The eastern facing walls all covered in snow were lit up beautifully through the waves of snow clouds moving through. I've seen a lot of fantastic scenery in my life but this was as magical as anything I have ever seen. We stood there with the wind at our backs and just enjoyed the feeling of the moment until the clouds moved back across the sun and the light started to fade.

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I hope that you and yours were also able to feel the magic of Christmas this fine day.