Father's Day

Every year we celebrate Father's Day by cooking out, giving presents, letting dads know how much we love them. You know, the typical Father's Day. We post the pictures of us with our dads on Facebook letting them know how much they mean to us. As wives we ensure that the kids have gifts to give the dads. We give the typical golf equipment, clothes, shoes, grilling accessories, etc. Perhaps we even get a little complacent in our celebration of the wonderful fathers out there. Well, this year Father's Day is different for me.

There's no celebration, no grilling, no gifts this year for my husband, the father of my children. It's hard to plan, shop, and wrap when you're still recovering from a bilateral mastectomy. This week has been a rough week in my household. I still can't clean, cook, shop, etc. without my incision opening or the drainage doubling. Sitting on the cancer chair....that's my life now. To say I feel like crap about it is an understatement. This sitting and resting process is killing me. My husband says he's okay with doing nothing and I know he means it. That's why I married him. He is the most loving, wonderful man I know. His concern and love for me is endless.

Even though we aren't celebrating today, he has had quite a grand weekend and I at least have that to soothe me. On Friday, he became a disciple of Grandmaster John Graham, Sr. in the art of Wu Chu Quan. It's a huge honor and I'm so proud of him. On Saturday, he tested for his 2nd degree black belt under that same system. I was unable to attend because of the complications from my surgery. My daughter saved the day by texting me pictures and videos from her iphone. She has such a wonderful heart. I thought about ignoring my husband (he was the one who insisted I stay home) and heading to the gym to watch him anyway. In the end, I didn't go because I didn't want him to be worrying about me instead of concentrating on his forms. He's that kind of man...my health is more important than anything to him.

I've been doing a lot of thinking these last few weeks and as Father's Day approached, I started feeling more and more the weight of this holiday. As I've said before, I'm a realist and the meaning of Father's Day has taken on a deeper meaning this year. As I sit and think about the future, I can't help but think about the day when I leave this world. I know the percentages, the odds, the statistics of my survival from cancer. Yes, the percentage of survival is high with Stage IIA. But, anyone who knows me can attest that the odds are forever stacked against me. Find the small percentage and that's where I belong. I'm a rarity, an oddball; hell, I swear I'm an alien life form unfit for this world. So, what happens when I'm gone? I used to worry about how I had to live until my kids were adults. Where would they be without me? How would they survive? Doesn't every mom worry about this? It's not even about the cancer, but more about being a mom and wanted to be with your children forever because no one else is good enough to raise them.

Well, I have my answer...they will be with their dad and they will thrive. They will grow into a beautiful, successful woman, and fine, responsible young men. As much as I want to be there for their entire lives, it just may not happen. No one knows the future and I have a lot of obstacles in mine. My husband is the most hands-on dad I know. He's there for our children in every way possible. He took my daughter in as his own from day one and has been an important part of her life. He went to every softball game, coached her, spent hours practicing with her. Her successes have been his successes. And, he's equally involved with the twins. He watches soccer games, attends award ceremonies, helps with homework. He's teaching them to be men, to respect others, and to work hard. There's no better role model and no better father out there.

So, when I'm gone, whether it's from cancer or some other thing, I know that my kids are in good hands. They will be with their dad. That's what Father's Day is to me now...celebrating the man who holds the future of my children in his hands. Maybe it's a little strange that I'm not showing him love and appreciation in the common Father's Day ways, but I feel like I'm giving him something more. I'm giving him my confidence. I'm giving him my approval. I'm giving him my children. As a mother, I'm celebrating the love of my life, father of my children, and letting him know that he's the future of our children and I'm at peace with that.

Happy Father's Day, babe! Thank you for being the best dad in the world, and thank you for your endless love. You are my rock, my life, my future. I love you!

I'm Ready to Get Off This Ride

I know it's been awhile since my last post. It seems I'm not very good at keeping everyone updated. Part of this is because I've been healing and recovering from my Bilateral Mastectomy. Part of this is because I have so many thoughts running through my head that I don't even know where to begin. And, part of it is because it's summertime and who can get the computer from two gamer sons? So, if this post is scattered, it's because my brain is so scattered right now.

I had my Bilateral Mastectomy three weeks ago. It's been a long three weeks. A little side story...I'm a closet Keeping up with the Kardashians fan. It's the family dynamic that keeps me watching. All families have their drama, but at least they come together as a family. I love that about the show. One of the things I think is interesting is their Peak and Pit sharing. So, I'm going to take that from them as I've had many Peaks and Pits in the last few weeks.

Peaks
The breasts are gone, along with the tumor. I expected to feel some remorse or feel uncomfortable without the tatas. I mean, I had huge ones and they've been a part of me for quite some time. I'm having to go through my shirts because some make me look like I'm wearing a muscle shirt, but I can't wait to find a new wardrobe that works with my new look. I feel confident and even proud to show my badge of honor. I'm going to be a breast cancer survivor and I have nothing to hide. I'm a warrior and proud of the sacrifice I've made.

A sentinel biopsy was done on the auxiliary lymph nodes and the results came back negative. It's a great feeling knowing they haven't spread to my lymph nodes. I feel like that's the kiss of death. The lymph nodes scare me as I remember the cancer spreading to my grandmother's lymph nodes. It's a relief.

I cut my hair before surgery in preparation for chemo. I mean, it's shaved using a 3/4 guard. And, the funny thing is, everyone is loving it. I'm enjoying the freedom of not having to fix my hair. I can shave it into a mohawk if I want to be a little crazy. At first, it took a little getting used to, but now I'm really digging it. I donated my hair to Pantene's Beautiful Lengths. I even inspired a friend to cut hers short and donate it in support of me.

Speaking of support, the love and concern everyone has shown has been amazing. I feel blessed to have so many people in my life who care. I'm actually not good at showing my emotions and it feels weird having all of these people show me love. It's been more than I could have expected and I appreciate every one of you.

Pits
The tumor is gone, but it doubled in size. Now, I officially have Stage IIA Breast Cancer. That's scary. My survival percentage just went down 10%. It took about a week for that to sink in and for me to really think about it. I became depressed, sad, scared, and angry. Why me? I try to avoid that question, but I think one just can't help but ask it at some point. Did it grow or were all of the tests wrong? No one has an answer. I know it's Her2 positive so it's aggressive. It doubled in size in one month. What would my outlook be if I hadn't found it until my annual checkup in August? I cried, I yelled, I wished I were dead. Thank goodness for my husband. He was there for me even though the same thoughts were going through his head. He kept saying it was okay. That was the word he got from some reading material. Honestly, the okay bit drove me crazy. Every absurd thing I threw at him was returned with the same okay. Finally, I threw the what if I killed myself...is that okay? No, that's not okay. Not that I would kill myself but the okays were driving me crazy. Of course, he did make me laugh in the end. It's amazing how he helped me go from crying and yelling to laughing. As he says, it's okay!

The drains from hell are driving me crazy. Three weeks later and I still have the darn things in. I feel like they are attached for life. I'm pretty sure I'm having an allergic reaction to the plastic. I have to clean the tube sites daily and re-bandage because of the pain, I have soooo much drainage. I'm supposed to get them under 40ml in 24 hours. I'm holding steady at 70-80. The surgeon is taking them out Monday no matter what because I start chemo next Friday. I can't start chemo if I still have the drains in so they must go or I'd have to postpone chemo and the doctor doesn't want that to happen because of my active her2. So, there's a very likely chance that I will have fluid buildup and have to get a needle stabbed into me to drain the fluid. Oh, joy!

As if the drains weren't enough of a problem, I have a two inch area on my left incision that refuses to heal. The surgeon had to put stitches in after the staples were out because when I move my left arm it creates a hole. I can hear the air enter and feel the drain when it stops getting a suction. I've been to the surgeon three times this week to get areas stitched. I'm pretty sure my being a redhead is part of the problem. I don't heal very well. It's a slow process. Add my Sjogren's into the mix and this is what I end up with...an open incision.

Today has been the worst day so far. I had a few great days and spent them out doing things. I went to the park with a friend. I want to the tattoo parlor with my daughter and bestie. I went out to eat. Basically, I left the security of my house and went out into the world. What a mistake. I started feeling bad yesterday. My right side started bothering me. The drainage doubled overnight coming in at 158ml for the day. I started feeling light-headed and nauseous this morning. My head was pounding and my side was hurting. I started running a fever of 100.7 and felt like I was dying. My arms and legs started tingling and I felt like I have the flu. I took some tylenol and that broke my fever. I took my Sjogren's and Fibromyalgia medicine and that helped with the tingling a little. No, I haven't called a doctor because my surgeon is in surgery all day. And, I don't know which doctor to call. Is this an infection? Is this a Sjogren's episode? Did I catch the flu? Knowing my luck, it's a combination of all three. We'll see how I'm doing in the morning. I may call all of my doctors.

Stand Tall
So, as you can see, I've had a lot going on lately. It's been a roller coaster ride for sure. I'm ready to get off now though. And, I haven't even started chemo. I think if it weren't for the support of my friends and family, I wouldn't make it through this. I'm amazed at the lengths they go for me. Me? It really is strange to me to have so many people who care. I had the friend who cut her hair, too. And, I had my bestie and daughter get tattoos in support and love for me. Even through the pits, I've had some great peaks. I really just want to say thank you to my loved ones. I couldn't fight this cancer without you!

Here's the tattoos my crazy daughter and bestie got for me. It was a fun night and I love them both even if they are crazy.

                   

First Strike

Soccer. I made the tough decision not to coach Twin 1's soccer team this year because I was tired and hurting from my Sjogren's. I should have known that was futile. After the first game, he tells me that the coach said a cuss word. Ok, I laugh, sometimes adults say things in the heat of the moment, so we'll just let it pass. By the second game, it's apparent that he knows nothing about soccer. That's okay, coaches are parents volunteering. It's going to happen. The next week, I listen in on part of the practice and I hear the coach tell the kids to "Get their asses right here." What? Are you kidding? I watch him, listen to him, get a feel for my target. By the next weekend, the team mom is letting the coach know that there's a parent with soccer experience willing to help. I tell my husband that the coach is a woman hater. I get a bad vibe off the man, and he's not going to accept my help. As I'm talking to other parents, the coach is speaking to my husband asking for help. When I walk up and my husband tells the coach that I'm actually the one with soccer experience not him. The coach abruptly ends the conversation and says he needs to leave, but that he would love my help. Yeah, right!

The Coach is A Jerk. The following week I'm sick..mostly sick from worry. This is the week I have my mammogram and biopsy and am still waiting on results. I ask David to go to practice for me and give him some drills for the forwards. The coach uses him as a ball retriever and that is it. During the following game the kids run and play their hearts out. It is a better game, but they are exhausted by the end of the game. No one is playing positions and they are all running the entire length of the field for 120 minutes. The parents are so proud, but I can see the anger in the coach's eyes. I know he is going to yell at those children. I hate it when I'm right about things like this.

I rush to the place where the team is meeting and where the coach is lecturing. He is yelling at the kids, pointing them out individually, terrorizing these kids. He is yelling at the goalie, telling him that he is awful and has let more goals by then the other goalie has let by all season. He berates one child for kicking the dirt and not paying attention. Then he proceeds to attack another child for being too aggressive, telling him that he is going after people instead of the ball. He then demonstrates this by tackling (and catching the kid before he falls) the child, knocking the breath out of him. At this point, I'm vibrating with anger. If the child's mother wasn't beside me I wouldn't have been able to control myself. I stay quiet because I do not want to attack this man in front of the children. It takes all self-control to stay where I am. After this, he points out one child and says he was the only kid hustling and running the entire game. Everyone else, according to him, gave up. What? My child ran the entire game and he made wonderful plays. These kids were exhausted! And, as if he weren't being an ass enough, he follows with the "we're going to run the entire practice for not trying" spiel.

Oh, I am mad! I immediately grab my child and tell him not to listen to the coach. He looked great and he would not be going to the practice. I raise my voice and say that the coach needs to run since he didn't know how to coach. By this point, other parents hear me and finally figure out that the coach was going crazy. They start talking, and the ball finally started moving. Enough is enough! The team mom calls me a couple of hours later and informs me that we are going to have a parent meeting with the coach. Poor, naive souls think us talking to him is going to change him. Yeah, right. The guy is a grade A D-bag and nothing is going to change that! But, I'll go to the meeting and voice my concerns with everyone else.

Haha, the Meeting is a Joke. Essentially, we try to voice our concerns and he yells. He tries to say running is common when teams fail. I counter with "it's not the kids' fault that they haven't been taught their positions, that's your fault as a couch." He counters with, "I taught them positions the first day." I counters with, "hahahahaha". Yeah, I think I just p*ed him off more. Then he starts making excuses, we counter. It keeps going back and forth. I tell him it isn't okay to behave this way and he steps at me raising his voice. I step at him and tell him he needs to watch himself because I'm not a child and he isn't going to talk to me that way. He gets really mad, stomps his foot, says he doesn't have to put up with this, and runs away like a child. Really? Adults act this way sometimes? His wife tries to say that he asked for help and I didn't help. Excuse me? Who's been warming them up every game because the coach is late? Who offered help and was turned down because I'm a woman? P-lease! What a productive meeting.

He cancels the next practice with an excuse of an out of town emergency. The team mom asks me to fill in and coach. Sure, I'd love to help the kids. But, can it be that easy? Of course not! The coach informs her that I can't be on the field because I'm not a coach and don't have a background check. Guess what? I've had several background checks through the park. I've been a coach for years, so Ha! Finally, the team mom involves a board member, the head of the soccer division, and he okays my coaching for the day.

The Beginning of Change. I don't know how many people have been around abused children before, but it's a heartbreaking thing to see. That moment when you realize that you haven't done enough, you've let this child down, you didn't do something fast enough. I have this revelation at that next practice. The minute I gather the kids, I realize that we, the parents, failed our children. We waited too long. All I can do from this point is change their course, fight for them, and give them everything they need. As soon as I sit with them they ask me if I will be their new coach. They don't want him. Please, please, please be our coach. And, I have to tell them no. I vowed at that moment that he wouldn't be their coach for much longer. I teach them everything I can in that one hour and I try to have fun with them. I try to set them up for a better game and teach them positions while telling them that they have to listen to their coach if he says something different. During this practice, I see the kids team up on one of the other kids. They tell him that he sucks as goalie and that he's awful, and so on. I shut that down quickly. As I walk with him and tell him not to listen to them, he tells me something that will stick with me for years. "That's okay, when you've dealt with bullies at school forever, you learn to ignore them." What have we allowed to happen? These kids are attacking each other out of survival. He's taught them to be aggressive, mean, and ugly. There's no team here, only scared individuals. My heart breaks.

We meet with the first board member that night. Everyone is willing to give the coach another chance if he is willing to apologize. We just want him to change. Yes, we're willing to give him a two week probational period. And, that was the way the meeting was going. "NO! No, it can't happen this way," I speak up. "We've given him too much time with our children. He's not going to listen, he's not going to change. Two weeks is too long. This kids need help now." So, the board member agrees to one week probation with a board member watching the practices and game. Okay, I'll agree to that if the coach is willing to change. No yelling, cussing or aggressive behavior in any way.

His wife shows up at the next practice claiming to be the real head coach of the team. She practices with the kids as we all watch in anticipation. The second board member makes his way over to me and the rest of the parents. He gets our story and then questions the wife being out there. He says that the coach is not returning phone calls and they are going to have a meeting about everything and will let us know the outcome. Saturday, I'm informed that she will be the head coach and I will be the assistant head coach if I'm willing. I must be on the field with her at all times. They still haven't told the coach because he isn't answering his phone and it will all be official by the next practice. So, I show up at the practice and help her coach. We talk, communicate, and I follow her lead. He shows up and shows his ass for about 10 minutes, coaching the kids every time I open my mouth. Oh, boy, he wants to play games.

As the next game approaches, I talk to another group of parents. We agree that if he shows up to coach, we are both pulling our kids. I won't subject my child to another moment of this man's abuse. The other parents agree. I warm up the team because she is late again. We are ready to start lining up for the game when he shows up and calls them to him. I yell for my child as the other parents yell for theirs. I head to one board member as they head to another. The board members walk over to him and ask him to leave. He causes a huge scene, pulls his kid, and stomps off. We start the game with me as head coach immediately. No time to talk to the kids, no time to plan. Yeah, as one can imagine, that game didn't go so well. That's okay, ding dong the coach from hell is gone!

Starting Fresh. At the next practice, I let the kids know that I'm now the coach. They cheer. It's time to rebuild and start again. First, I have to build a foundation. I have to break the cycle of attacking each other. We are a team. We win as a team, we lose as a team. We run as a team, we have fun as a team. That was hard. They'd learned to finger point and attack each other. I had to break them of that bad habit. Positions, I had to teach them positions. With that, I had to teach them that all positions were important and that sometimes you had to play different positions. And, most importantly, I had to teach them to have fun. I had to teach them to laugh, smile, enjoy soccer. The next game, we come out as a new team. They play their positions, they talk to each other, they play soccer. So many people come up to me and thank me after the game. Yes, we lose, but we gain so much more that weekend.

The tournament weekend is upon us and we are feeling good. We're in this! The kids believe it, I believe it. We practice hard. I teach them basics, like throwing in and goal kicks. We're ready to show the world that we are here to stay. We lose the first game, but keep our heads up. We play hard our second game, and get a goal. How did we get the goal? Teamwork! Our midfielder passes to our forward and we score. Our goalie and defense keep the other team from scoring. WE WIN!!! I try not to cry as my kids coming running to me. We did it. Against all odds we win a game. No one else believed we would, but we did it.

We still get eliminated from the tournament, but that's okay. We already won. We overcame such a huge obstacle and we won. We had fun, learned a little about teamwork, and we won a game. I've never been so proud of a group of kids before as I am of this one. They never gave up and they didn't let that horrible coach win. Their determination was inspiring.

So, the reason I write this is because I felt like their story needed to be told. I was thanked by the parents, kids, other coaches, and referees. Thank you, they said, for taking your time to help those kids "What else could I do?" I say. "They needed me."

In truth, I needed them, too. They inspired me and helped me. They gave me a reason, a purpose, something to keep me busy during these hard times I'm going through. My family thought I was crazy for taking this team on with everything going on with me. I knew they were right, but I just had to help those kids. Those kids, who were unwilling to give up no matter what was thrown at them, inspired me. If they can be so brave and strong through their ordeal, I can be equally strong and brave through mine. And, most importantly, they gave me a sense of normalcy these last couple of weeks before my surgery. So, I thank them. Without them, I would have had the time to let the fear and doubt overwhelm me and win.


Thank YOU, Monkey Business. You've been a bright star during a dark night in my life. Thank you for sharing a piece of your sunshine with me. You helped me win another battle against cancer and I'll be forever grateful.

Not My Daughter, You Bitch!

"Not my daughter, you bitch!" I don't think there has ever been another sentence written or said that captures the emotions of a mom more than this sentence yelled by Mrs. Weasley in Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows. Such a seemingly simple statement, yet it emulates every emotion I feel when I'm worried about my children. Love, anger, fear, protectiveness...a fierce need to destroy anything that would harm my child. J.K. Rowling managed to convey the message in one sentence, "Not my daughter, you bitch!"

Yesterday I had my follow-up with my Oncologist...and, yes, I did eat beforehand this time. We were there to get the results of my BRCA tests (genetic tests) and my PET Scan. I went in there feeling a little defeated and just anxious about getting this all moving. My insurance company had dealt me a blow last week by sending me a letter stating that they wouldn't cover my PET/CT Scan because I have Stage 1A instead of Stage 3 Breast Cancer and I was feeling pretty pissy about it when I headed to the doctor. How mad I was about their decision and the work I have ahead of me during the appeal was in the back of my mind as I entered the doctor's office. I was also anxious to get our battle plans drawn. All of the results were in and it was time to map out our course. Finally!

The first thing my doctor told me was that the BRCA tests came back negative. What? Wow! Really? I couldn't believe it; we were expecting another positive. I didn't realize how much those results meant to me. As I processed the news, I exhaled deeply like I'd been holding in a breath for weeks. My muscles relaxed like they'd been tight with worry instead of tight because of my Fibromyalgia. The doctor then moved onto the PET/CT scan. He brought us into his office to show us the images. They found another small lump in the left breast that they believe is not cancerous, but it doesn't matter because the boob will be gone soon. The BRCA test is negative. I have one intramammary lymph node that is cancerous. But, it's in the left breast, too. It doesn't matter because the boob will be gone soon. The BRCA test is negative.

Finally, we have a plan...
My doctor set up an appointment for me with my oncologist surgeon for Monday. We will schedule a bilateral mastectomy for as soon as possible. I informed my doctor that I WILL NOT have surgery before May 15th. Why? I WILL watch my daughter walk during her graduation. Missing that moment is not an option. Four weeks after surgery, I'll begin twelve months of chemotherapy. I'll have six rounds of TCH (Taxotere, Carboplatin, Herceptin) Chemo given in three week intervals. After that I'll continue the Herceptin Chemo every three weeks until I finish my year. I'll take a hormone pill throughout treatment and beyond. Ok, great...the BRCA test is negative.

My doctor could have told me that I was terminal and there was nothing that could be done and I would have been fine. I was emotional all day yesterday and couldn't really pinpoint why. I looked at chemo caps, planned for a hair cut, and added dates to my calendar. I was ready for all of this. Why was I on edge and ready to cry? I realized this morning that it all comes back to that BRCA test. The outcome of the tests wasn't going to change my prognosis or my battle plans. But, we expected a positive result. It's negative...we won a huge battle!!! I have a messed up body, immune system, etc. We've made jokes about how I need to transplant my brain and heart to another body. We've hoped that I didn't pass down all of my defects to my children. It was a joke until I was diagnosed with breast cancer and found out there was a breast cancer gene that can get passed down to your children.

The average woman has a 12% chance of developing breast cancer in her lifetime. A woman who has inherited the BRCA genes has a 40-85% chance of developing breast cancer in her lifetime. That's crazy! And, that's scary. That's why nothing else the doctor said yesterday mattered. Knowing that I haven't passed down the 'cancer gene' to my daughter is the best feeling ever. I could die tomorrow and feel like I won the war. Cancer CAN NOT have my daughter!

My children are my life. It's as simple as that. If they live, I live. If they are happy, I'm happy. If they are scared or in danger, I'll protect them (And, by that I mean I will do whatever I have to do to protect them...be warned!)

I don't think I can put into words how much I love my daughter and what she means to me. Some people may think it's strange when they see how close we are. I'm her confidant as she is mine. She's my best friend and my daughter. There's a fine balance that we've manage to achieve while teetering on the line of friends and mother/daughter. I will ground her in a heart beat and I will listen to her heartaches without judgement. We had a pretty tough beginning and we've been through some rough times together. The good times and the bad times; there were plenty of both. When she was five, I was broke trying to make it and take care of her on my own. That Christmas she asked for a tv and said, "If there's enough money I'd like a barbie doll, too." So grown up and mature for an almost six years old. She was already trying to take care of me. After David's head injury, we kept each other strong. She was only ten and had the weight of the world on her shoulders. I held her while she cried and she held me while I cried. Sometime after that, her dad's kidneys finally gave out. After months of dialysis, he received a kidney. I held her while she cried and told her it would all be okay. She's made her mistakes through the years; it's all part of the growing process. Even through the mistakes she made, I held her and told her how much I loved her. I protected her and never judged her for her actions. With each life lesson she's learned, I've been there to support her and love her. With each illness I've had, she's been there to comfort me and love me.

Through all of our troubles, we've had each other's back. I love her and she loves me. I'll protect her as she will protect me. It's something fierce, our emotions. I feel like my daughter has held the world on her shoulders too much and for too long in her short life. I've tried to shelter her and protect her as much as I could. The thought of her odds of breast cancer increasing because of a gene I passed on is...there are no words. How do you explain the emotions, the fear, the worry that you could have passed something on to your child that could harm her in the future?

 On May 15th, my daughter will graduate from high school with honors. She'll begin her own path (forever intertwined with mine) this fall as she heads to college to pursue her degree in Occupational Therapy. No matter where her path takes her or where mine leads, I will rest easy knowing that her path is her own. She is free and clear of those BRCA genes and will have a chance at a long, bright future. The battle is already won!

Who has time for cancer?

I said in my last blog that I hated the waiting game, that still hasn't changed. I'm a "soccer mom". I live moment to moment, day to day, using a calendar to plan out my life. There's appointments, work, kids, sports, school, etc. Seriously, who has time for cancer?

Let me give you an example of my week:
Monday
*6-630 - get lunch ready for the boys...send Logan to school
*7-725 - get Tristen to the bus stop
*9 - get blood work drawn at cancer institute for testing
*930 - allergy shots
*12-4 - work
*630-730 - soccer practice (I'm the new asst. coach)
Tuesday
*6 - get Logan up and ready
*8 - Tristen's OT appt
*12-4 - work
Wednesday
*6 - get Logan up and ready
*8 - Tristen's Speech appt
*9 - grocery shop
*10 - check Tristen into school and hope he actually stays
*12-4 - work
Thursday
*6-725 - boys to school
*9 - allergy shots
*945 - Rheumatologist
*11 - pick up cakes for friend's going away party
*12-4 - work
*630-730 - soccer practice
*8 - surprise party
Friday
*6-725 - boys to school
*9 - pick up prescriptions
*10 - Montana's academic lettering ceremony
*11-2 - work
*4-8ish - work

This is just part of one slow week of my life. And, did I mention that David has kung fu every night? Seriously, who has time for cancer?

I'm not a patient person when it comes to getting things done. I'm a here and now type of person and this waiting game is driving me crazy. I'm waiting on this test result, that test result, PET scan, surgery or no surgery, chemo or no chemo, etc. Ugh, it's so frustrating. Someone really needs to let this breast cancer know that I have limited availability. I'm a hot commodity. My time is precious. I don't like to be kept waiting.

I started this blog to share a few tips on how I was losing weight. It seems like a lifetime ago that I had time to concentrate on my diet and exercise. The last few years have been long for me. I've had four surgeries in the last three years since that last post. I certainly had no time to blog. Two torn tendons repaired, one gallbladder removed, one sinus unblocked, and one deviated septum straightened, and I still wasn't 100 percent. I've been diagnosed with severe allergies. I'm allergic to inside and outside, latex, dairy, and some medicines. I'm probably allergic to this computer. I've been diagnosed with asthma...asthma attacks aren't fun and exercising isn't easy. After that, I was diagnosed with Sjogren's. It's an autoimmune disease that few people know about. Pain for the rest of my life? Fun. Days when I can't move my muscles and joints? Fun. Days when I feel like a marionette doll? Fun. Today I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. It's not really a surprise. Sjogren's is generally a secondary disease. More pain for me...oh, joy. More medicine for me...oh, joy. More doctor visits for me...oh, joy. I see a General Physician, an Allergist, and a Rheumatologist on a regular basis. And, now I have to add an Oncologist? I don't have time for cancer.

If it were just me, maybe I could squeeze more into my schedule. But, I'm a mom. Tristen has Asperger's so we have several appointments to help him navigate life. He sees an Occupational Therapist biweekly, a Speech Therapist weekly, a Therapist monthly, and a Psychologist every three months. Logan is my sporty kid. He has soccer twice a week and games on Saturdays. He's trying out for the school's soccer team, basketball team, and archery team next year. Montana is a senior. We're trying to get ready for graduation. I'm taking her senior pictures and making her announcements. She's receiving awards at school and preparing for college. And, I'm just trying to get as much Montana time as I can before she's gone. I'm always on the go. I just move from one thing to the next. Want to have lunch with me? I'll see if I can pencil you in next week.

A funny story...Montana had to get ready for prom last Friday and I had an oncologist appt. I always fix her hair (well, except for that one year that David fixed it.) She was stressing about her hair and asking if the doctor's office has an outlet for a curling iron. My friend and I were having breakfast and we were laughing about it as we pictured me curling Montana's hair as the doctor walks in with me saying, "You are going to have to discuss my problems while I fix my daughter's hair. I can't stop for cancer." The crazy thing is that I would do that; it's just how I am. I would have done it if she hadn't found another person to do it. I just won't stop my life for cancer. The sooner cancer realizes I have no time for it, the sooner it will go away and quit bothering me.

So, I guess I'm being a bit of a whiner today and feeling a little impatient at the moment. I say that we are just waiting, but I HAVE gotten some test results back since my last blog...

***My estrogen receptor and progesterone receptor tests came back positive. We're happy about this because it means the cancer feeds off estrogen and will respond to certain therapies.
***My HER2/neu test came back positive also. We are not happy about this because this means that it's a fast spreading, aggressive, angry little beast.

However, I am still waiting for my BRCA tests to come back and am also waiting for my PET scan. See, it all comes back to waiting. I need these results. I need to know what the next step is. I need to know when, where, what our plan of attack is. My soldiers need to be moved into position. My sister and cousin need to know when to come help. My mother-in-law needs to know when she needs to start taking over Tristen's appts. My work needs to know when I'm going to be out and for how long. My life is busy and it's not going to stop for cancer. Seriously, who has time for cancer?

The Dreaded "C" Word

Has anyone else ever had the feeling that they've known their fate their entire life? I always knew that I was going to get the dreaded "C" word. I just knew it. Most people would call it being pessimistic, I call it being a realist. I'm sure this sense of foreboding is the direct result of living through my grammy's long fight with the "C" word. She was a fighter and I don't remember her ever not fighting. I don't remember the time before her mastectomy.  When the cancer returned, it was just another battle in the war. And, boy did she fight. I thank her for teaching me to be such a strong woman. She helped prepare me for this.

I grew up truly believing that it wasn't a question of 'if' I got it but a question of 'when'. It's one of those family urban legends that gets passed down through generations. "Every woman in our family dies of cancer." That's been in my head for so long and something I believed my entire life (even if it's not accurate). It's funny how experiences shape and mold your outlook on life. Maybe this feeling that I was going to get cancer at some point has helped prepare me. Everything happens for a reason, right?

On March 25th, I find a lump in my left breast. I'm lying in bed watching tv with David when I feel it. It all starts with an itch...thank you, Allergies! I'm scratching my left breast and feel this hard lump. Wait!!! That's not supposed to be there. I calmly (on the outside because I was already freaking on the inside) ask David if he can feel it. Yes, it's not my imagination. Oh, crap! The next morning I call my OB/GYN. 

On March 27th, I head to the OB/GYN prepared to have tests ordered. I lie down on the table as he feels around for the lump. It doesn't take long. This is what you feel? It's a pretty good size....not what I want to hear. He tells me that he's setting me up with a diagnostic mammogram. As the nurse makes the call, I feel this heavy weight. Perhaps it's a change in their demeanor or perhaps it's my imagination. She tells me that I'm going across the bay to the other Mobile Infirmary building because they can get me in sooner. The local hospital can't get me in until April 8th and they don't want to wait. Also, she decides to skip a step and order the ultrasound at the same time. As I drive home alone I break down for the first time. I know it's crazy because I knew what was coming. I guess I was hoping it was all my imagination. It can't really be the "C" word, can it?

On April 1st, I have my diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound done. David comes with me for support and comfort (for both of us) as we (he) try to stay positive. As I'm sitting there in my gown, starting to freak out from the wait, Montana sends a positive good luck text. That lovely child of mine has perfect timing. Boy, I love her! The mammogram is quite the experience...not so much painful as it is awkward. The technician takes extra pictures of the right breast...uh, oh. That's not the correct breast. Next, we move on to the ultrasound.  It takes about an hour to take all of the pictures of both masses. Yes, she found a mass in the right breast, too. She tries to make small talk, but I've already caught a change in her facial expression. Maybe it's just my imagination. In the end, she tells me that they believe the right side is Fibroadenoma but they can't tell what the left mass is. She schedules a biopsy for both breasts for that Wednesday.

BTW, the technician thought she could keep me from seeing the images, but I manage a backward, extended reach iphone shot of the ultrasound pics. I obsess about the shape of the masses later. Surely, it looks like all of the cancer pics I've seen online. It's probably just my imagination. I'm too dramatic. Here's the shot:

On April 3rd, I have my ultrasound biopsy. My mother-in-law brings me so I don't have to go alone. Once again I find myself in a hospital gown waiting for a test. Ugh, I really should have brought my ipad. The nurse tells me that the technician that did my mammogram/ultrasound wants to be in the room, so we wait for her. What? Surely that means I have the dreaded "C" word. Why else would she insist on being a part of this procedure? Steenie, there goes your imagination again. As they set up for the doctor, they find a second mass in the right breast. Finally, the doctor starts taking biopsies of the masses. This is not fun!! I repeat, this is not fun!!! OUCH!!!! He finally finishes and tells me that my doctor will call in 3-4 days. My technician tells me it will be longer because of the weekend.

Now it's a waiting game. Where will I be when I receive the news that I have cancer? How will I react? Why isn't my sister home yet? How do I explain this to my kids? How will my family go on without me? Man, I really wanted to see my kids grow up. Man, I really wanted to grow old with David. I don't really need my breasts anyway...they are just added weight. Is this call THE call? Is my imagination getting the best of me? What happened to my get out of cancer free card I should have received when I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease (a story for another day)? Yes, waiting is the worst part!!! 

On April 8th, my OB/GYN calls. I'm at work waiting on a customer and can't take the call. This is the moment. I go into the kitchen and pace between the two freezers and call the nurse. The nurse tells me that she has to get the doctor. Oh, this is bad. First, the operator puts me straight through to the nurse. Now, the nurse puts the doctor directly on the phone. Imagination? Is that you? My doctor starts off apologizing for taking so long to get the results back to me. Wait? I thought it was going to be Wednesday or Thursday, not Monday....this is bad! The right masses are benign...fibroadenoma just like we thought. The left side is...deep breath...breast cancer. It's Infiltrating (Invasive) Ductal Carcinoma. He goes on to say that he just didn't expect this at my age. He hates giving me the news over the phone, but wants me to get treatment immediately. It's NOT my imagination.

Surprisingly, I handle the news well. I mean, I expected this. I've expected this my entire life. I'm more worried about everyone else. No one believed it was going to be cancer. But, it is. Now we know it and we can deal with it. It's time to prepare for war. No more time to feel sorry for myself. No more time to have those thoughts I had while waiting. No more thinking the worst. Survival mode...I know this mode well. I thrive in this mode. I've been in this mode for most of my life. I'm ready for battle. Let's get this party started.

On April 10th, I visit the Oncology Surgeon. I bring my bestie, Lisa, and David with me. The doctor walks in and says he's sorry I have cancer and that I'm here. I try to suppress a giggle as the doctor looks at me strangely. I'm not sure why I find his words funny, but it sounds like the funniest thing ever. I tell him that we're sorry I have cancer, too. What else do you say? I finally get to see the mammogram pics and sneak a picture of it. Yes, David and Lisa both think I'm silly or maybe crazy. We find out that it is Stage 1A - Early Stage**. That's a good thing...well, not as good as having no cancer, but the best we could hope for under the circumstances. This is going to make the fight a little easier. It's still going to be a fight...a war...but, I now have the advantage. I will see the Oncologist on Friday, April 12th. to get some genetic testing done and to begin mapping out our battle plan. 


So, here it is...the dreaded "C" word. Cancer...I have Breast Cancer. I AM a breast cancer fighter and future breast cancer survivor.

    

**we later found out it grew to Stage 2A.

Perspective

Where to begin?

I know I haven't been on here like I wanted to be on here, but 2011 was one crazy year. I haven't been very motivated and I've been feeling pretty frustrated and, well, not happy with myself. 2011 was an emotional roller coaster for me and I was ready to come on here and talk about how horrible 2011 was and how it was the worst year ever. But, then I realized something...

I could sit and talk about how hard life was last year. I could talk about my three surgeries. I could talk about how my two surgeries to repair torn tendons in each foot messed up my exercising and caused me to get back out of shape. I could talk about how I miss kung fu because of this and even miss the ability to run. I could talk about how being immobile messed up my eating habits. I could talk about how I never felt well for the last half of the year. I could talk about how miserable it was to get walking pneumonia and bronchitis two times last year. I could talk about being diagnosed with asthma and all the problems that come with it. I could talk about having my gallbladder removed a week before Christmas and the pain that the unexpected attack caused. I could talk about my allergies and how it felt to discover that I'm allergic to everything in my environment and milk. I could talk about how miserable the holidays are when you can't eat anything because it all has dairy in it. I could go on, but I won't.

One of the things I've tried to change about myself lately is the negativity. It's so easy to be negative. I'm one of those 'the glass is half empty' type of people. It's so hard to see the positive in hard situations. Just look around. Almost everyone I know concentrates on the negatives of a situation. Why is that? Why is it easier to focus on the negative instead of the positive? It's pretty sad, really. It's kind of like how people frown all the time because it's easier. But, smiling is such a powerful thing. It uplifts you and makes you feel good. Isn't that the way life should be? So, I thought about the negatives in my life last year and decided those weren't important. The positives outweigh the negatives, don't they? I know they do for me. And then it was clear...isn't this blog about my journey to become a healthy me? I'm pretty sure that includes more than my losing weight.  In fact, I know my life involves more than just that. So, instead of the negative, I'll talk about all of the positive things that happened to me last year.

I started out 2011 finishing up my meeting with my dietitian. I learned a lot about food and what to eat. I learned how to eat healthy. What a different world when you eat fresh. Avoiding boxed and canned food (aka prepackaged food) became a way of life and I loved it. During this time I was training for my black belt in martial arts. I walked daily, ate right, and trained hard. On Saturday, May 7, 2011, I spent three grueling hours testing for my black belt. By the end of the class, I could barely walk. You see, at this point, I knew my right foot was in severe pain and that I was probably looking at surgery to repair something. But, that didn't matter. It was my day and I fought for it. Earning my black belt after three years of training and fighting felt great. It was one of the best days of my life.

Shortly after that, I had surgery to repair a tendon in my right foot. On a side note, the doctor found out that I had an extra tendon when he operated and had to trim it back as well...weird! While recovering, my sister introduced me to a new hobby: geocaching. So, it became my obsession. As soon as I was back into a walking boot, I hit the trails. Searching for a little 'treasure' in the woods, in the city, and everywhere else was so fun. It kept me busy and somewhat active. It helped me get through a summer and it helped me remember my passion for photography and for the outdoors. What a great summer!

By August, I knew my other foot was having the same problems and I went back to my doctor. Before my second surgery, I got really sick again. I've spent most of my life sick. My doctor came to a surprising conclusion in the cause of my sickness. I was officially diagnosed with asthma. How great to have an answer to the big question...why am I always sick? I felt like a weight had been lifted. This is something I can handle. So, I dove in head first, started medication, kept a breathing log, and learned some of my triggers. It's nice to breathe again!

Thanksgiving was spent at my sister's house with her family. There's nothing better than spending the holiday with the ones you love. And, as a bonus, I was finally out of "the boot". I spent a total of eight months in some sort of boot/cast. What a relief! I felt like a different person. Unfortunately, I'd been sick again with bronchitis and still wasn't 100%. But, we had a great time making apple pies and hanging out. As December started, I was feeling optimistic. I graduated physical therapy and was looking forward to starting kung fu

Even better, though, my family had a great year. Even through my downs, I got to enjoy my family's ups. That's one of my revelations. How can I possibly fail when I have been so blessed with beautiful children and a wonderful husband? My family is an important part of helping me be healthy. I love them and am so proud of them. Their successes are my successes and there were plentiful successes last year for us.

My daughter, Montana, had a bumpy beginning to the year. She turned sixteen and showed that she was definitely a teenager. She's always been the 'good' child and we've come to expect perfection from her as she expects it from herself. She got into a little bit of trouble and spend the middle of the year grounded a lot. I know this doesn't sound positive and doesn't sound like a success, but it's about perspective. Yes, she made mistakes...doesn't everyone? It's how she handled herself that matters. I had to watch my daughter fall. It was one of the hardest things of my life. But, as a result, I got to watch her get back up again. And, it was amazing!! I watched her rise like the phoenix I know she is. I watched as she took responsibility for her mistakes. I watched as she changed her life starting with getting rid of the bad influences in her life. She stood tall and proud and apologized for her wrongs. She started out the year as a child and ended it as a young adult. I'm so proud of her and who she is becoming. Sometimes you fall, it's how you get back up that matters and she did it with class, style, and integrity. It was worth the bad moments to watch her grow and I feel fortunate to have witnessed it all. And, I feel confident that when she leaves the nest next year, that she has learned the skills to be a wonderful adult. I can't wait to watch the next stage of her life.

Logan, my oldest twin, grew a lot this year as well. He had a great soccer season this year. I always love watching him play and this year I watched it from the sidelines as a mom instead of a coach for the first time. I watched as he gained more confidence and independence each week. I watched him go from a child who needed mom as a coach (crutch) to a boy who didn't need mom all the time. Of course, it makes me sad, but what a great feeling it was the first time he said he didn't need me on a field trip. Independence, that was his big gain of the year. He's always been the one who needs Momma by his side, so this was exciting to watch. He also graduated from Speech class. That was an exciting moment. He has worked so hard at overcoming his speech problems and his goal last year was to get out of Speech class. And, he did just that during the first week of school this year. I'm so proud of him. He also decided to try out for the Math Team at his school. This was the first time he tried to go out for something that he wasn't guaranteed to get. It was the first thing he tried to do that didn't involve me. And, guess what? He did it! He was picked as one of the few to represent his school. He made the team. I'm so proud of his hard work and I enjoyed watching him become a more independent, confident preteen.

The biggest accomplishments probably came from my youngest, Tristen. As an Asperger's child, he is quite the character. He's always been a loner and has always had trouble fitting in, staying calm, and being a part of any group. At the beginning of the summer, he started having conversations with kids. This was such a big step. He actually tried and wanted to make friends. He calmed down more and learned to control his feelings. Tristen started hugging us more and sitting with us. If you don't know about children with Asperger's, you might not understand why these things are big deals, but they are big deals. We've been in counseling for over a year working on these steps and to watch him take them has been such a thrill. Within a month of starting the new school year, he actually had friends. He never has friends, only bullies. He's always had to be protected from others. For once, he started coming home happy and engaging in conversations about his day. And, at our regular school meeting to talk about Tristen, another breakthrough happened. I was asked about what I thought about Tristen being on the Tech Team. What? My son? Wow! What a great feeling. My son, Tristen, was asked to represent the school. He's building a robot and is even going to a competition this spring. This is a dream come true. What a difference a year has made for him. I'm so excited to continue this journey with him and can't wait to see what he accomplishes next!

And, I can't leave out my husband. David's had quite the year as well. It's smaller than the kids, but just as important. He's become a little more social and involved with the outside world again. He had a head injury a few years ago that changed him. We're happy just to have him, so the personality changes have always been fine with us. It's been hard watching him become an introvert when he's always been an extrovert, but we love him for who he was, who he is, and who he will become in the future. With that being said, nothing makes me happier than how active he's become. He started out the year by playing flag football with some people from work. Usually, he's content to be alone, so it was nice to watch him participate in something involving others. He was so happy during the season. After that, I watched him really dive into our kung fu. He went from just being there to being the one who stands out. I watched him become a leader and an example for the others in the class. The natural, easygoing David finally reappeared. He helped others, talked with classmates, even joked around. More importantly, he started to smile again. It's been a beautiful thing to watch. I really love that man and I'm so very proud of him.

One of the other things I've been working on is perspective. It's a word I've kept close to me lately. It's a word I think about every time I think I've got it bad. Perspective. I know there are others out there that have it worse. I have a good life. I had a great year. I wouldn't change anything. With every down moment this year, a good thing was born from it. Perspective. Life happens! It really is what you take from it. After so many positives this year, why would I focus on the negatives? Perspective. It really is about perspective.

So, was year one of Operation: Get Steenie Healthy successful? Most definitely!