HNY 2015!

So long 2014 ~

Hello New Year!

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

Lately

As of late I've been so critical of myself. Why you ask? Because I no longer look like this:

Bryan and I were going through our old photos this weekend and when I saw that beautiful woman, I cried, a lot. I wanted to run away and hide in a cave. I felt sorry for myself. Like everything's been taken and changed by this horrible disease. I don't even recognize the woman I see in the mirror. People I worked with 2 years ago don't recognize me. None of my clothes fit. I don't look like the woman my boyfriend fell in love with....and on and on.

As shallow as this may seem to you, it’s been a huge adjustment for me. Why? Because I went from that to this in 3 months:

When humans age, they have time, lots of time, to accept the gradual changes that occur within their bodies and minds. Cancer changes that equation though. Overnight it robs you of that element that allows you to continually evolve into your new and ever-changing body and spirit

My body has endured so much in this past year. My strong body. My body that now has extra curves, pounds and wrinkles and not nearly enough hair, breasts or estrogen.

When I look this photo I get back a little of what cancer took: the sense of time passing. And maybe, if I look long enough I can figure out how to be ok with where I am today. Alive, feeling well and doing the best I can to care for my body.

Loosing the battle

Against the deliciousnes

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.

 

Easier / Not Easier

Getting Easier - having warm cookies delivered to my house at 9PM, spending time with colorful freshwater fish

Not Getting Easier - not having a breast, no longer having periods

Staying the Same -  keeping butter out of the jelly jar

Six words

Six-Word Cancer Memoir - In Two Parts

I.          There are no guarantees in life.

II.          Whatever happens, love yourself, without reservation.

Survivor

If only I were referring to that TV show.

Early on in my treatment I went to a support group at the cancer center. It’s a spiritual support group designed to help women effected by cancer release some of the strong feelings that accompany this illness. You can cry, shout, sing, kvetch, do pretty much anything within reason to express whatever you need to.

The first time I went I was really surprised to discover that women who had been healthy for over a year were still attending the group. There I was, bald, nauseous, and pissed that I had to go through cancer. Right in the thick of my treatment, I sat next to these women and listened to their stories.

Honestly, I couldn’t relate. From where I was sitting, they had what I most wanted: hair. They also had a clean bill of health. And yet, they were having trouble adjusting. Trouble dealing with the residual feelings cancer left them with when it vacated their bodies.

The thing I heard the most was anger, followed by confusion. The kind you feel when you wake up from having napped too long on a summer afternoon. You look at the clock and it says 6:30, and you panic, thinking you’re late for work. It takes a couple minutes to sink in that evening has come, and you didn’t get the notice.

Not having cancer is a little like that. You know you’re well; your cells are working, humming like bees, and yet, there is worry, because an essential part of you didn’t get the memo that you’re cancer free. In other words, in spite of the fact that I look healthy, I don't feel it. I  still feel very much like I'm recovering from something big. Like my mind is just now sorting out all details of what my body has been through this past year.

In playing catch up, I wonder: How long will I live? That question is the scary one. Recently, I was talking with a woman, maybe 75 years old, maybe older, I’m not sure. She was old though. I could tell she was old because her hands were gnarled with bulbous knuckles. Looking at her hands, I felt a sadness wash over me. Followed immediately by an acute jealousy, she had something I might not get: a long life. Then, I felt sad again. There are no guarantees in this life for any of us, but, having been though cancer, I feel acutely aware of this fact, and it scares me sometimes.

Beyond the worry and possibility of a shorted lifespan there are other unknowns, specifically about my body: What is this body now? How does it feel? What does it need the most?

My body is very different than it was a year ago. There are scars. Too many, I think. Parts are missing, big parts. Important parts. I’m heavier to. Medications that cured me also made me gain weight, kind of a lot of it. On top of that, I ate whatever I wanted. When you’re in treatment for cancer, and feel so shitty, sometimes simple things, like a chocolate croissant and a nap, are the best part of your day. So I have curves now, the first one’s ever.

Also, what can my body do now? There are risks, since lymph nodes have been removed. I could contract swelling in my arm that will never go away. At first I thought about that every day. Now, it hardly comes up, but later in the fall when approximately 3.5 million leaves drop from the trees and onto my lawn, I can rake only for a little while at a time. Because, I like my arm the way it is now.

Raking in short stints isn’t so bad, not something that really hits home. Menopause though? That hits right where it hurts. Did I mention am 41 years old? The old ladies weren’t kidding about hot flashes. Those suck. Cuddling is challenging at times because of them. My body runs hot, and having a little critter on my lap, makes me break out in a sweat. There are other fun and exciting things that happen to the female body during menopause. I will spare you the details and just say, between that and the anti-cancer drugs I take, it will be a miracle if I have any bones left by the time I’m 65.

The chemo induced neuropathy is still with me as well. Its mild, but it’s still kicking around. I am still healing from the chemo, its clear. The damage from those drugs was system-wide, but slowly, I’m healing. I can tell when I peddle my bike as hard and as fast as I can. I feel energized, joyful even, because I can move fast. I can tell when I’m dancing with Bryan, the Rumba never felt so good. The foxtrot on the other hand, is a brutal dance. Either way though, I’m electric and excited at joining the human race again.

I know that it has to be at my pace. I have to meet myself where I’m at. I do what I can to listen to my body. Push myself, just a little, to get my body moving. Nourish when needed and sleep when tired. Hugs are good to, the best actually.

Knowing all this, I’m taking my cancer-free self, back to the support group. I’m going to sit there, with my head full of hair, and kvetch, complain and most likely cry some. I’ll keep going to the group to, until that deep down part of me finally gets the cancer-free memo.

Until I know what healthy means for me as my body is now, after having been on this long journey.