HNY 2015!

So long 2014 ~

Hello New Year!

2015: embracing this path, in all its forms. Here's the same for you this year!

One Year Ago Today...

…I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer.

The Details: I had multi-focal disease in my right breast (meaning I had three tumors in the same quadrant of the breast), grade 2 cancer cells, lymph involvement (making me a Stage 2A), estrogen/progesterone positive, HER2 negative, BRCA 1 and 2 negative.

The Treatment: After my initial diagnosis I went through lots of tests (and lots of BS) to get to the treatment phase. Eventually though, I had neoadjuvant chemo (for 5 months, shutter), and a unilateral mastectomy with sentinel node biopsy.  

The Result: I had a complete pathological response to chemotherapy. Meaning, on a cellular level, there is no cancer left. This type of response is somewhat rare which I didn’t realize until recently. It’s very good news actually because studies show that I have a greater chance of “event-free” survival. This is the best outcome I could hope for really.

The Physical Side Effects: Are dreadful and I include my hair in this assessment. Have I mentioned the 18 pounds I gained? If you want an illness where weight loss is a side effect, breast cancer ain’t it.

The Other Side Effects: Cancer effects the whole person: physically, mentally and emotionally. Since I was diagnosed one year ago, I’ve been mindful of caring for my mental and emotional selves. I’ve made big changes and hard decisions, all of which have contributed to my physical healing. It’s all connected, in my experience. I saw healing from cancer as a way to heal every area in my life where I felt imbalanced. I didn’t plan on healing that way, but it’s the only way I knew how to do it.

Today: Before the end of this year, I will complete my reconstruction surgery and have silicone implants on both sides. I take aromatase inhibitors daily. I get Reiki when I feel that I need it, about every 6 weeks.

I rarely drink alcohol and limit my intake of sugar. Don’t worry though, I’ll never be that a-hole at your party who won’t eat your birthday cake with you, I’m totally sharing your cake. But, overall, I eat very well.  I drink a green smoothie daily (fav right now: water, plain fat-free Greek yogurt, 3 cups spinach, pear) I cook at home every day using whole foods and I bring my lunch using same said foods.

I also think about exercising 30 minutes a day, like I should. Ok, I’m still working on this one.  I found a solution, but a few more things need to happen prior to implementation of my program. It will happen though.

My new mantra? Progress, not perfection. I can tell you that over these last 12 months, my life has progressed into a new stratosphere. It is not perfect and I love it, even in spite of my old-lady hairdo.

 

Thanks but...

When I was pregnant with Aidan I wanted to know as much as I could about pregnancy, labor and birth, so I decided to take a lamaze class.

The teacher, Harriet, was about 75 years old. She was 5 feet tall with jet black hair. In addition to knowing lamaze backward and forward Harriet also had lots of interesting stories about how birth used to be in the city.

She told us about illegal home births in Manhattan and in the outer boroughs where groups of women would gather at the laboring woman's home and all help the baby earthside. She shared with glee the first time a man (gasp!) was in the laboring room with his wife. He handcuffed himself to his wife's bed and refused to give up the key. And then there was that time when they all protested in front of city hall to advocate for a birthing center in Manhattan.

All this went down in the late 60's and early 70's and from what I could gather these acts of civil disobedience brought about a sea-change in maternity care in the city. What started them down this radical path? It was for many reasons, but I think it was primarily because western medicine had overstepped its bounds with regards to birthing.

As I have shared before on this blog, having cancer, in so many ways, is like being pregnant and just as those birth radicals observed and responded to the over-medicalization of birth, so have I seen the tendency toward the over-treatment of cancer, and I am responding.

Don't get me wrong, cancer can kill you, so its best to make sure to treat it until it's gone but continuing to treat after the cancer has been cured? I'm not convinced. Which is why I flew all the way to Philadelphia to speak with Dr. Lawrence Solin after I found an article he wrote about this very topic.

Dr. Solin, it turns out, was the perfect person to see. He told me that every opinion could be supported with the current research which says, yes, no and maybe, someone should receive radiation after a mastectomy, depending on the specifics of their situation.

After he said this he want to on talk to me about my cancer and my treatment and about what makes my situation a-typical: I had chemotherapy first.

Rather than go though the details of all the relevant studies and the specifics about my cancer and course of treatment like Dr. Solin did for me, I share with you an excerpt from the paper which helped me make my decision about radiation:

"Similarly, in 102 patients undergoing mastectomy with clinically positive nodes before neoadjuvant chemotherapy and pathologically negative nodes afterward, the risk of chest wall and regional nodal recurrence was between 0% and 10.8%. These locoregional recurrence rates fit into a low-risk category of patients who are unlikely to experience improved overall survival from radiotherapy."

Translation into English: when a gal with Stage 2 cancer has chemo first and it cures her cancer, like completely cures it, like on a cellular level, her risk of recurrence is between 0% and 10.8% and radiation can't make it any lower, because there is nothing lower than zero.

Whereas the short and long-term side-effects from radiation are pretty significant and the risk of getting at least some of those side-effects is pretty high, way higher than 10.8%.

So, thanks Radiation Oncologist, but, I think I'll pass and stick to getting my radiation the old fashioned ways: from space or from a tanning bed. 

What do you think?

News flash: headed to PA today via NYC to meet up with a Dr who specializes in answering questions about Radiation that I have. Specifically, do I need it? Like, really need it? 

The Drs here can't come to a consensus and since I'm not a Dr I need another perspective. 

So, I called an audible, scored a free flight, and am in route to the East coast.

Fingers crossed that I can get some solid info because no matter how much I like my local Dr, I'm not undergoing anything based on someone's spidey sense. Just sayin.

One Hour at a Time

"...first you decide what you gotta do, then you go out and do it, and maybe the most that we can do is just to see each other through it..."

- Ani DiFranco


This one goes out to my Tuesday Women's group. You have been holding me through this. Whenever I feel alone in this, I hear this song and you all are right there with me. For this I am so grateful.

Post-Chemo Party

Want to have a fun party? Take chemo for 6 months and then have your last treatment. 

Afterward, you'll feel like dancing from a rooftop and sitting next to every woman at the table all at the same time. Consume mass amounts of special sushi, pork buns and Korean BBQ wings. Sprinkle in some kale salad for good measure. 

Skip desert and bring all the ladies back to your place. Drinks, loud laughter and hanging by the fire pit will be sweeter than anything served on a plate.

Women Gathering - Anju Edition

Very unexpectedly, the women who supported you every step of the way on this shitty journey will gift you with special things to commemorate this milestone. You never understood the significance of planting a tree for these or other occasions. But suddenly, you get it and you love it.

Am I old enough to have a tree? Yes, yes I am

Art meets love meets your breast cancer in this beautiful piece by the amazingly talented Erin. She will give you this and you'll feel so lucky its yours. Finally you get to put your hands all over her work because it calls out to be touched. The texture of the painted surfaces and the naked surfaces feel beautiful. You blush a little when you touch it, given its shape.

To see more of this beautiful work, go here

You won't forget to celebrate with the person who found your cancer, subsequently saving your life. The person who is there for you when your cuddle-o-meter is alarmingly low. You know that this value doesn't show up on your weekly labs when you go for treatment, but you do know that when these numbers get low, look out.

So you'll put on the dress he bought for you and wait for him to get ready to.

Then, just like that, you'll be eating oysters by candle light. Holding hands and admiring the views. In that moment, you're not really celebrating anything at all. And at the same time you're celebrating everything. 

No more chemo, start of summer, patio refurb, generally feeling blissed

Then, when you wake up the next day, you'll feel so blessed. You know that even though you have many more milestones to go before you leave this particular path, life is good where you are. Right now your life is everything you have always wanted. Plus more. 

Indeed it is

2 of 12

This is gonna be brief, I've already been writing for a bit this morning and french toast is calling.

Weekly treatments make my dance-card feel really full. I am juggling so many things right now, none of which feel like candidates which I can let fall.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I've let many go. Please don't mind the science experiment growing under my dining table or my piles of laundry scattered randomly around my domicile.

There are some though that can't be dropped nor would I want to drop them.

My Little Critter is medicine for me, so funny and fun to hang out with. He's a load of work though. In my "down time" my tired bones can be found playing "Particles," a made up game which involves scooting around on my butt trying to catch him and steal his magical box. Or holding him on my lap in the kitchen in deep conversation about meal planning.

This morning before I got out of bed we were talking about Samsara and what it all could mean. And then we talked about all the other creation and life after death myths we could think of.

Heavy stuff, pre-coffee. But I love it. That ball will stay in the air.

Hopefully the nausea will stay low-level and the raw fatigue and GI issues will follow suit. May it be so.

In my estimation I'm about 35% though this process. For that I feel so happy!

Yum Yum and Love

This is a shout out to everyone who brought my family a meal over these last 3 months.

A meal is such a simple thing, in a way. But for me, during what's been a very challenging time physically, even a simple thing like dinner felt like way too much.

So you all kept showing up. With your smiling faces, well wishes, prayers and warm, delicious meals. Food that fed us dinner, was the perfect mid-night (or mid-day) snack for me. Something ready to fill my belly which has been on the verge of being sick for 3 months.

One or two bites of something delicious at the right time can be so soothing. I felt your love, care and prayers in every bite, as did we all.

So thank you. You took the time out of your schedules, away from your own families and to-do list to do something that was so very needed and I am so grateful to you. And you, and you.

Love and Muah.

Reflection & Rearview

Essay by: Brandy

Jim Valvano once said, “Cancer can take away all of my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart, and it cannot touch my soul.” After working at Fortune 50 Corporation (note: name of company changed for privacy reasons) for the last 9 months, I have meant some really important and life-changing people. But in all the people that I have come across at this company, a courageous woman outshined them all. Her name is Lauren, and I can honestly say she has changed my whole outlook on life into a positive one. My first interactions with Lauren began this summer, when I started at Fortune 50 Corporation on an 8 week summer internship program. She and I worked in the basement together in the heritage department.

When I first began working with Lauren, we were in the basement most of the time taking photos of artifacts and recording data of the photographs into the computer. Anytime we received new artifacts, Lauren would consult with my other coworkers to see if we wanted to keep the object, and if we did, Lauren and I would start our process to enter the information into the database. Because of how much time I spent with her, it’s like I got used to seeing Lauren around. We used to have team meetings together, go to lunch occasionally from time to time, and even have one-on-one sessions to get to know each other better. But then I started to realize that I was seeing her less and less. I would ask around about her, but no one was for sure about her whereabouts.

After a while, my curiosity began to overcome me with questions, so one day in mid-November, I decided to pay Lauren’s desk a visit. When I arrived, I could sense something was wrong by the type of eye contact we made as decided to take a seat. As time was passing, and we were catching up, I asked her if something was bothering her. She whispered ever so gently that she had cancer, and it felt like my heart had just completely shattered at that exact moment. I was bombarded with dozens of questions, to have reassurance that she was going to make sure she includes in her response that she would be okay.

As Lauren started to answer my questions I had sat back in the chair and just started to think to myself about how brave she was. This woman gets up out of her bed every morning to get her son off to school and then to start a full day of work with not a single complaint. She doesn’t use her sickness for a weakness. In fact, with her weakness, I still find her to be the strongest woman I’ve ever meant. Anyone who can have a sickness and still wake up and come to work with a smile on their face, most defiantly has my blessings. While looking back on my experience at this company, I have for sure done a 360 in my personality and socializing skills. 

By being around Lauren’s such positive and uprising spirits, I have learned to treat everyone around me with respect and only show love at all times, because you really never know what a person is going through. A person can appear to be smiling every day in front of others, but shed a thousand tears when they are in the comfort of their own homes. I believe God either puts people in your life to make you better or to make you realize you need to do better. But without a doubt, I do truly believe that God sent Lauren to open my eyes and realize that tomorrow is never promised to any of us, and I hate would hate to live with a list of regrets.

Note about the author: This essay is by Brandy, an awesome, hard-working young woman who is a senior in high school. She wrote this essay for an assignment at school and gave me permission to share it here with you. It made my day to read this.

Note about the photo source: The above photo was sent to me by Kellie. An all-around amazing human: a native Californian, plant and water whisperer; a creative beautiful soul who I had the great fortune and pleasure of meeting in college. Big love and shout out to Kellie and H. Sending big love to you both. Looking forward to a sunny rendezvous this summer in the desert, may it be so.

Sunny Dreams

It will come as no surprise to you that outside my window the view is mostly white. On the ground, floating through the air. Layers and layers of white cover over everything. Its pretty, but its a bit chilly.

In the thick of this wintery mix I really don't think to much about summer. Winter, like anything else, is something to move through and really can't be rushed. So dreams of summer are not on my mental agenda usually. Funny though how something so small can instantly transport you to the middle of June without warning.

At our place, Bryan built a spot for our coats and gloves and its become the repository for hats to, both the winter and summer variety. One morning this week, when Bryan took his big winter coat off the hook, the hat he wears in the summer came down with it and landed in the middle of the floor.

Seeing that hat made me long for summer deep in my bones. In that moment, I really missed seeing him in that hat, doing work in the yard. I missed the bright sun and hanging out next to the blow up pool. I missed sunning myself and playing ball with the critter, barefoot in grass.

Getting there was effortless, coming back to winter was to. But, it got me thinking about summer. About how, by the end of the summer this will be finished. I will be cancer-free. No more appointments, treatments, surgery, poking, prodding and all the rest of it.

I will get to sit at our table on the patio, under the umbrella with a picnic laid out, with no where to be and nothing to do. Enjoying those summer days that seem to last forever and ever.

The Fall

Every year my physic soul sister and I trade tarot readings in January to see what may be up for the rest of the year.

This year, as you can imagine, my reading was a mixed bag and it started off with this card:

Now you don't have to know anything at all about tarot to see that this card is intense. Simply put, what it symbolizes is - sudden, unexpected, painful - change(s).

The people in this card, who we can only assume were happily standing atop the tower admiring the view a few moments earlier, are now tumbling down to an uncertain future after their cozy spot was hit by lightning and then proceeded to catch fire. Yikes.

When I saw this card for January I must admit, I wasn't all that happy to see it. I've pulled The Tower many times before in all the years I've been reading and I know what it means for me. In the end, I always land the water, dog paddling and content, but the fall itself can be tricky.

This time around, the fall has been filled with physical ailments, side effects from the chemo that is curing me of this disease, and a side bonus of a cold, which has knocked me flat into bed.

Mostly though, its been about control.

To describe what I mean, let me direct your attention to The Secret. You may have heard of it from a person named Oprah. The Secret proposes that as individuals "we create our lives, with every thought every minute of the day."

I happen to love this concept, it taps into all the fluffy new age thinking that can be very inspiring and just plain practical. Not much can shift if you focus only on a problem, focus on what's working though, and what could work with that, and you can move mountains. (or Towers maybe)

The only flaw I can see with The Secret though is that it puts the individual in complete control, and I think it goes beyond the seize your destiny type of thing. Taken to its furthest point The Secret posits that we can be in total control if only we visualize correctly and think correctly. If we don't, we're up a creek without a paddle with only ourselves to blame.

In the last 3 months since my diagnosis, cancer has taught me just how not in control I am. The day my doctor wrote the order for my mammogram to have a look at that lump, she told me that I was in perfect health. She went on to say that my diet, exercise routine and lifestyle were all perfectly aligned for a healthy, disease free life for many, many years. Whew, in the clear, right?

Well, that your reading this says otherwise. Because no matter what good health my diet, exercise routine and positive thinking manifested within my body, at a cellular level, I wasn't in control.

The cancer cells did their thing while I ate heirloom tomatoes from the farmers market and plucked herbs from my garden. They danced with me at the jazz fundraiser and even went to see Wynton Marsalis with me. The cancer continued to grow as I have continually created a life I love living, surrounded by people I love beyond measure.

The cancer is there. It must be dealt with, so I'm dealing with it.

Physically, the treatment is rough. Not completely unbearable, but rough. Mentally, its no picnic either. I have walked though a door which I will never be able to return from. Concerns about recurrence, will always be a part of my internal conversation with myself now. Rightfully so, I want to be here for another 45 years or so, but still. Its there.

I've fallen out of that tower.

This time though, my face has that peaceful meditation smile. My hands are in the prayer position. I know that I'm going to land in water so warm its going to feel like a bath. I know that wholeness, radiant health, and the experience of love will wash over me and I am open to it all.

If it so happens, that the water isn't quite as warm as I imagined, I'm not going to blame myself for not visualizing hard enough, or long enough. I'm going to remember that the only thing in this life I can control, truly control, is my own attitude about things.

That's it.

My cells will do their thing. Life is gonna do its thing. People will do their thing.

I'm going to do mine, in the exact way I know how.

So that's what I'm doing, in spite of the fact that behind me, my tower is burning. Or maybe, just maybe, this new perspective is possible because the tower is burning. In which case, pass me a marshmallow and a stick.

Baby it's cold outside

Staying home today, having quiet time with the little boy in his PJ's camped out in bed under a blanket.

BTW, Aidan pointed out yesterday with delight that he is the only one in our house with hair. Show off.

Here's an interesting article I just came across in the New York Times. Thought you might find it worth the read.

Stay warm. Unless you live in a place that is warm and you are already warm. In that case, please accept my blatant envy gracefully. 

Love and Muah.

The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for,

And if you dare to dream of meeting

Your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool

For love, for your dream,

For the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.

I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,

If you have been opened by life's betrayals,

Or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain,

Mine or your own,

Without moving

To hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy,

Mine or your own,

If you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes

Without cautioning us to be careful, realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.

I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself,

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithless and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty

Even when it is not pretty every day,

And if you can source your own life

From its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure,

Yours and mine,

And still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon,

"Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,

Weary and bruised to the bone,

And do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

In the center of the fire with me

And not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you

From the inside

When all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone

With yourself,

And if you truly like the company you keep

In the empty moments.

By Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Known Unknowns

There is a bank marquee in my town that is part buddhist, part christian and part banker. Its not a sign I pass by often, but when I do I find it to be pretty profound.

The day before Thanksgiving the sign spoke again: Give thanks for the Unknown, Blessings are already on their way.

Perched in the middle of two directions of traffic with my turn signal on, I stayed in that spot, waiting out the time (11:35) and temperature (29 degrees) to see the message again. Because, had I read that right? Give thanks for the unknown?

The unknown for me has always been something that's caused great concentration. There are many situations where specific questions arose about what I didn't know. From the mundane "Will what I ordered be as good as I hope it will be?" or "As good as yours?" to the important, "Will it be a boy or a girl?" or "Will I get the job?" In all of these situations the unknown seemed to be the enemy which I was trying to outsmart.

My #1 line of defense against my nemesis was worry. If I worried about something then surely what I feared would not come to pass. "Mmmm...my dinner is better than yours!"

My second line of defense is two-fold: be as self reliant as possible and be in control. If I'm self-reliant then I don't need you. If bad things happen and you bail I can take care of my own shit. If I'm in control and alone I can stay calm be more self-reliant.

As I write it all out now I can see how this magical thinking caused way more stress that it alleviated. I do want to point out though that there are good things about this two pronged approach. The foremost of these is that its made me into a very resourceful person, in so many ways. And I love that about myself.

The negitive part is that I closed myself off to peace, trust and blessings that were coming to me in all their beautiful forms. When your hands are clenched around one thing, then they are not open to receiving something wonderfully unexpected--unknown--that may be the best thing ever.

Since receiving my cancer diagnosis I've been reexamining my relationship to the unknown. With this disease there are a lot of unknowns, all the time, and they're huge. Life and death huge. Hardly a blessing right? And, the illusion of self-reliance is quickly shattered when you realized that you will need others to get through this experience. Gasp! I will be truly dependent on someone else. I can't take care of my own shit. I really can't. What if you decide to bail on me? Then what?

There are no answers to these questions. The test results come back when they come back and they will be what they are. They will be life affirming or really alarming. You will help when you can and be there for me when you can or you won't. And I just down know which will be which. So I have a choice. I can keep moving through my old system (see above) or I can give thanks.

I can be thankful for when I'm pumping gas and my favorite song comes on over the gas station radio. I can count my blessings when my love orders ice cream for himself and one of the two scoops happens to be my favorite flavor. I can open my arms wide to my friend who brings me milk when I can't find my car keys or sanity enough to get to the store.

I can love the friend who shows me her bright face and healthy body and then tells me all about when she had breast cancer. I love the laundry lady who's lazy and eats bananas all day and yet magically cleans my house.

I could tell you a million more things that happen all the time that make my diagnosis of cancer beautiful and completely livable and made me fall in love with the unknown. And I'll take it. Every last bit of it because that's what my Hero Journey is about: befriending the unknown. Opening up to everything I can't see or touch to find the real magic in this life. No matter if the cells are good or bad or if you ordered a better dinner than me. I will love it all.

Foolish

At this moment the Fool has the support of the universe to make this jump into the unknown. Adventures await her in the river of life.

Afloat

Did you know that the ballast of a ship acts as a righting device? Without the ballast, a heavy weight at the bottom of the ship, the vessel would sway this way and that, and eventually capsize. The sails on your ship might allow you travel far and wide but the ballast keeps you at an even keel so you can get where you intend to go.

Today, when I heard the pathologist say the cells from my lymph node are cancerous, I teetered. I nodded to her letting her know I understood. She said more words, which I can’t recall, and then she left the room.

I laid back onto the table, turned onto my side in the fetal position, closed my crying eyes and thought: I’m going to die. This may kill me. Soon.

I was capsizing.

As I turned over, Bryan got up from his chair, to stand next to me and hold my hands. That’s when I realized I was actually shaking. Have you ever shivered out of sheer terror? It’s different from shivering from being cold, when I shiver from the cold, the shaking starts in my belly and radiates outward. This shivering originated in my hands and feet and moved inward.

We were like that for awhile, me shivering, sobbing. Teetering on the verge of a shipwreck. All the while, he moved closer to me. Until finally there was that one moment, his arms were all the way around me and everything inside me just relaxed. The tears stopped, as did the shivering. I just knew it would all be ok.

I was righted again.

The ballast of a ship can be made from quarried stone, sand bags, metal weights or water. I suppose if you’re a person, your ballast can be made from just about anything. Glad I had mine with me this morning.

I don’t want to do this alone, and I don’t need to. So, I’m not going to.

Easy-Peasy

The good thing about cancer is that  it makes everything else seem really easy.

Remember that important presentation at work? It’s a snap! That big interview for your dream job? You got this! That speaking engagement at the Nudist Colony? Whatever!

Cancer: better than toastmasters. A wee bit more painful long-term, but works instantly with no practice necessary.

Shall we dance?

Woke up with this song in my head.

If you're looking at this on a phone, you can check which song I'm grooving to here.
 

 

Far, Far Away

Better Reception

I just spoke with my OB who gave me some additional information about my biopsy. 

I have positive receptors for both estrogen (72%) and progesterone (91%) and am negative for the HER2 receptor. 

Why does this matter? Read all about it here:

http://health.nytimes.com/health/guides/disease/breast-cancer/prognosis.html

 

Here’s a relevant excerpt from the article:

“Hormone receptor-positive cancer is also called "hormone sensitive" because it responds to hormone therapy such as tamoxifen or aromatase inhibitors.

Women have a better prognosis if their tumors are hormone receptor-positive because these cells grow more slowly than receptor-negative cells. 

In addition, women with hormone receptor-positive cancer have more treatment options. Recent declines in breast cancer mortality rates have been most significant among women with estrogen receptor-positive tumors, due in part to the widespread use of post-surgical hormone drug therapy.”

In other words, according to my receptors, I’m not totally screwed. I may even live through this. Imagine that. Wonder what that’s gonna be like?