I [Heart] My Life

Me? Oh, Just Gettin' an "A" in Cancer Slayin'. What Are You Up To?

Last night, one of the last things I did before bed was to send an email to my oncologist, letting him know about the complete eradication of my cancer & thanking him for saving my life. I got back this reply:

April, Wow, I heard. Dr. R [the surgeon] was so happy, I don't think I've ever seen him so elated!  You know, you did it, you got through it, maybe your genes got you into this problem but it was also in your genes that you had such a great response to treatment, and you had the mental toughness to push through each day.  But I will of course very graciously accept your thank you, you made me feel good about my work, and so thank you back.  See you next week.

*Sigh* Grin.

Yep, that's me. I always try to be the best, and that includes the best darn cancer patient. Ever.

... this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single  photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama. You can play, too!

Seabright Beach

Where Do You See Yourself in Five Years?

Cancer has a way of making your life feel precious. The thing is, though, even with cancer, life goes on.

So the precious-making part of cancer is intermittent and sometimes fleeting and more often than not drowned out by NPR and making grocery lists and feeding the cat and Nia shouting from the bathroom "Holler!" (which translates to "wipe me!" in our house).

The sometimes-amazing, sometimes-seat-of-your-pants-fun, but also often-mundane & tedious LIFE. Goes On.

Even when you have cancer, it turns out, you still have to do a fair share of errand-running, taking the trash out, unloading the dishwasher, paying the now-increasing bills. Sure, now you can occasionally play the "Cancer Card," too, like when someone gives you a hard time for accidentally being in the 9-items-or-less-line with 20 items (or paying your taxes in October instead of April like the rest of the country, ahem), but for the most part, regular old life goes on.

Some people look at this and see what's missing. Their "cancer silver lining" is in the half-empty cup: They see an opportunity to change their life, to make it more "worth while," to do the things they never did. They look at their career and wonder if it is what their life was destined for. Is this how they want to live out their now-precious days?

And I'd be lying if I didn't have some of that the-glass-is-half-empty thinking and wondering.

BUT. For me, I think my cancer silver lining has been more of the glass-is-half-full variety.

I got some news this week about my cancer. Or shall I say, lack of cancer? After the surgery, the breast & lymph node tissue was sent to pathology, and they found NO CANCER.

Zero.

Zip.

Nada.

The cancer was completely eradicated by the chemo! (Insert Snoopy dance!) The 5cm sliver that the pre-op MRI showed up was scar tissue. A ghost of the deadly tumor.

What this means is that the chance of re-occurrence is much less. Suddenly -- and even more than I was feeling with the surgery itself or with the gene testing coming back negative -- suddenly I had been given back a chance at a nice L O N G life. A life that includes what I already have right now: A truly wonderful family in a beautiful place, surrounded by such an amazing community.

A chance to be really be grateful for what I have. A chance to really enjoy it. Savor it.

A chance to escort my little one to her first day of first grade, to see her get her ears pierced... to be a teenager, to grow into her own person...

A chance to try for another baby...

A chance to grow old with Joe. When we married, I pictured us some day puttering around in our golden years together, but the cancer clouded that picture. Suddenly I saw Joe and Nia growing up, moving on without me.

And yet somehow how out of the ashes, the phoenix rose and it was simple and beautiful: It was the vision of this life exactly as it already is... and the promise of it all simply maturing.

Twin rocking chairs on a porch...celebrating the heck out of all the birthdays between here and there.

I heart my life.

Postcards From My Recovery

I had a "modified radical mastectomy" on Thursday.

Saying it to myself makes it more real.

Modified because it was just one breast. Radical because removing an entire breast from ones chest is pretty freakin' radical.

No news yet from pathology on the tumor. That will be sometime this coming week.

In the meantime, my recovery is going well. Joe brought me home from the hospital on Friday afternoon. Since then I've mostly been sleeping except for small trips to the bathroom and to the dinning room table. Joe's been keeping me fed & medicated as well as cleaning my drains and charting the fluid amounts. We've had a visiting nurse come out twice so far to clean the bandages and make sure everything is looking good (so far, so good).

My sister-in-law, Whitney, arrived Friday night and Nia has been stuck to her like Velcro ever since. I'm so glad for Nia to have Whitney for the happy distraction from all this weirdness of seing me sick and flat-chested. But I miss my little one, too. She's been pretty much avoiding the bedroom and has even been sleeping with her aunty.

But, she is where she needs to be.

And I'm where I need to be. For now.

My attentive little chicken RN, Poppy.

 

... this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single  photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama. You can play, too!

SC County Fairgrounds... one week ago we were at the fair; teleporting myself out of the hospital and back to that precious, blissful moment...

Cancerland Timeline

I'm updating this timeline as I work my way through diagnosis to treatment to cancer-free. The timeline will stay at the top of my blog; scroll down for the latest posts & pictures, or click on these links to see all my cancer-related posts: The Cancer Slayer Chronicles and Parenting With Cancer. ~AS

Feb. 21, 2012: Lying on my side, I found a golf ball-size egg-size lump in my left breast.

Feb. 23, 2012: Met with my OBGYN and got referred for an ultrasound. We both felt confident it was a milk-related cyst.

March 5, 2012: In Tahoe, I celebrated my 35th birthday.

March 7, 2012: Ultrasound performed on lump; doctor says it looks "funny." Click here for my first blog post about "the lump."

March 8, 2012: Biopsy #1 of left breast lump and lymph node. Mammogram performed. Then a weekend passes.

March 12, 2012: Diagnosed: invasive ductal carcinoma Stage 3, 7cm tumor, ER-, PR-, HER2+. Cancer found in both the lump and the biopsied lymph node. Biopsy #2 performed on right breast (masses biopsied and fully removed; deemed in situ, Stage O).

March 13, 2012: Breast MRI on both breasts and lymph nodes.

March 16, 2012: Met my chemotherapy oncologist for the first time, Dr. Y.

March 19, 2012: Met my surgery oncologist for the first time, Dr. R. (Surgery to come after chemo.)

March 20, 21, 22, 2012: Blood work, bone scan, CT, echo-cardiogram (all came back clear for cancer)

March 22, 2012: Chemo treatment #1 (first of 12 doses of Taxol, and first of year-long Herceptin)

April 12, 2012: Chemo treatment #4 is postponed due to too low of a white blood cell count.

April 15, 2012: First of weekly Neupogene shots (white blood cell booster).

April 13, 2012: Hair is falling out; get my first cancer hair cut (chin-length).

April 25, 2012: Tumor measured & found to be shrinking from the chemo.

May 11, 2012: Head-shaving party.

May 15, 2012: Brain MRI (results came back cancer-free).

June 13, 2012: Last infusion of Taxol (12 doses).

June 27, 2012: Begin FEC-H.

August 8, 2012: Last infusion of FEC (3 doses).

August 17, 2012: BART results come back negative. Get MRI #3 (breast -- pre-op).

September 20, 2012: Radical modified mastectomy of left breast including all first and second tier lymph nodes on the left side; no reconstructive surgery at this time.

Sept. 21, 2012: Home from the hopsital.

Nov. 12, 2012: Radiation treatment begins. 28 sessions over 6 weeks.

Dec. 20, 2012: First haircut of the new hair!

Dec. 24, 2012: Radiation completed.

Currently: Doing Herceptin chemotherapy.

Dead Boob Walking

This is the week.

We're in the final days before my single mastectomy: I check into the hospital Thursday morning.

I can't help but hear the call, "Dead boob walking...." echoing around my head. My boob and I are going to our last restaurant together as a couple tonight.

Although I didn't have my daughter in the hospital, because I've done work as a birth doula, I tend to associate the hospital (especially the one I'll be in) with births: happiness, new beginnings, joy!

It is strange to wrap my head around the notion that I'm going in for an amputation. A subtraction. 

But as I type this, the "bad" breast is aching...

It is a good reminder of what is under the skin. The tumor shrunk during chemo, but it is still there, a 5cm long, thin sliver. My nemesis.

Cut deep, dear surgeon. Cut deep and get it all!

Good riddance!

But the breast... This breast has been with me since I was 11. I almost remember when the pare arrived in elementary school. Of course we've been together ever since. This breast was favored by my little one during our nursing days...

Thank you for all you did for us. You did your job well.

Rest in peace.

... this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single  photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama. You can play, too!

Bean Hallow Beach, Pescadero

It's About the Relationship

The other day I was squinting at a darkened highway shrouded in fog.  It was just after dark and Nia and I were driving back from the tiny little historic town of Pescadero. She was supposed to be asleep.

It had been a long day. A great day, but a long one nonetheless: early morning wrangling to get out the door to preschool (one cup of tea), trying to fit as much work as possible into the preschool hours (2 cups of black tea + a cup of coffee), stop for a smoothie on the way up the coast (acai berries boost energy, right?), a walk around a lovely goat-cheese farm that included balancing & walking along literally a hundred eucalyptus stumps, dinner with my aunt (a glass of wine + a cup of coffee), exploring beachy bluffs along Highway 1 on the way back down the coast...

So, a great day. No doubt.

But by dark, I was ready for a break. (Go the &*@! to sleep, baby! -- in my best Samuel L. Jackson voice...) After all, that little dusky beach excursion was secretly & craftily designed to squeeze out the last wiggles, eat up some time to let the sun dip below the horizon, and make the warm car the perfect thing to lull my little one to exhausted, happy sleep.

Right? Wrong.

What was actually happening in the back seat on that dark, foggy drive home:

"Mama, I'm hungry."

*Click!* (the backseat reading lamp goes on)

"OK, honey. I don't have anything for you to eat right now. Please turn off the light."

*Click!* (the light goes off)

"Mama, I'm hungry."

"Thanks, baby. I know you're hungry."

*Click!* (the light goes on)

"Mama, I want 'Ragweed.'"

"Please turn off the light. Ok, I'll turn on Ragweed." (I turn on the audio book. 'Hey, Mouse'...)

*Scuffle, scuffle*

"What are you doing, honey? Please keep your car seat straps on."

"Sorryyyy!"

*Scuffle, scuffle*

"Mama, I'm hungry."

"You can eat when we get home. The ride will go faster if you fall asleep."

"OK!"

...silence....

*Yawn* (Yes!!)

A few minutes pass and all is still in the backseat. I try to peek in the rear-view mirror, but it is too dark to see if her eyes are open or closed. A few more quiet minutes pass. I look at the clock: 8:10p. I silently high-five myself: Nice early bedtime!

Hmmm, I think, what shall I do tonight? Watch a Harry Potter movie with Joe (we are in the midst of a marathon)? Start a blog post (got a few rattling around in my brain)? Take a shower? Edit some pho----

*Click!* (the light goes on) *Brrrr* (the back window goes all the way down)

"Mama, I'm hungry!" (shouted over the roar of the wind)

Wait, what?! I thought the quitin' time whistle had blown! I was done parenting for the day. I was on to planning my free time. I wasn't just planning my free time, I was already basking in it. Grrr.

Scenes like this are the moments in parenting that are SO hard, right? When you're just D.O.N.E but your little one is not ready to call it a night.

I recently read the most extraordinary blog post that managed to boil down this whole parenting conundrum -- the balancing the good (really, it's often great!) with the bad (when you just want to pull your hair out). It's as simple as this: There are the jobs of parenting, and then there is the relationship.  

I really feel for any parents that get stuck with just the job part (you know: the cooking, the cleaning, handling tantrums, researching booster seats, shopping for clothes, bedtime shenanigans, etc...). You really have to have the other side of this coin to make it worth while -- and keep yourself from going totally insane.

And I understand now -- suddenly! -- that for some people, the job part is simply not ok with them, no matter how great the relationship potential is. And so they forgo having kids. And some people who aren't into the jobs part and have the means to do so, outsource every job aspect of it that they can.

Reading this piece was truly a clouds-parting kind of moment for me. It just summed it up so well. 

It is a balancing act and, like any job, it must include rewards & mental-health breaks. 

So, the other night, when Nia stayed awake all the way home from Pescadero and finally fell asleep way too late after a snack & a couple chapters of Farmer Boy, what did I do with my hard-won free time you're wondering? What did I do to support this evening out of the scales of parenting so that I can get back into the ring the next day?

Nada.

I fell asleep.

 

Lake Tahoe Summer Photo Album

Some pictures from our glorious time in Tahoe a couple weeks ago... Yep, we pretty much spent the entire time either in the water, or looking at the water. Breathing in... breathing out...

For fun, a link to pictures from Nia's first Tahoe trip, two years earlier. From baby to kiddo...