Kicking cancer's ass - day 1861

It's PINKTOBER!

I wrote this last October 1st, and it's still how I feel about Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  

In case you've been living under a rock, October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.  That means you will be inundated with ads online and on tv for anything and everything pink.  People will start those stupid chain messages on Facebook about a "no bra day" to support the cause.  People will tell you to "save second base".  You'll have the opportunity to buy pink shirts, socks, shoes, pens, jewelry, rubbermaid containers, hammers, etc.  You name it, someone has jumped on the pink ribbon bandwagon for it.

Most of my breast cancer survivor friends have a hate/hate relationship with this month, and the color pink.  It's true that most of the hype does NOT raise any money for breast cancer care or research.  There are a ton of articles and web sites about how little profit from pink ribbon sales actually goes to the cause.  Most of it is just that.... profit.  Only a very small percentage, if any, of pink ribbon merchandise sales actually goes towards anything related to breast cancer.  So basically it's just people and businesses capitalizing on breast cancer.

That's the negative.  I don't blame my friends for feeling that way, and I don't agree with anyone wanting to make a profit on something that tried to kill me.

However..... I don't mind Pinktober.  I don't mind pink ribbon items.  I love pink!

Having breast cancer changed my life.  While it doesn't define me, it has changed the way I look, the way I feel, and the way I view things.  And the way I view this whole pink ribbon campaign is this:  if you know me, or someone else, who has been affected by breast cancer, and you choose to wear a shirt with a pink ribbon on it, or buy pink trash bags, or put a pink ribbon magnet on your car, I don't think you are "giving in" to the hype.  In my opinion, by doing any of those things, you are showing your support for me (or whoever) and the fact that I'm a survivor of this horrible disease.

While Hefty may donate little or no profit from the sale of pink trash bags, the fact that you bought them with ME in mind means that the whole gimmick worked.  Your purchase of those trash bags will not provide a cure for cancer..... but it does show support.  And one of the most important weapons in a cancer patient's arsenal is support.

(To be clear, I have no clue if Hefty sells pink trash bags.... that's just an example I made up because let's face it, you can buy everything from pens to scarves to boots with pink ribbons on them!)

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1833

By "people" I pretty much mean myself.

All my life I have struggled with my self-esteem.  It's HARD being a girl.  I am very smart (I skipped third grade and graduated #3 in my class).  I have a soft heart and I'm a good listener.  I try to be thoughtful and understanding and I do my best to be a friend I'd like to have.  The last five years have shown me just how strong I am.  I know I'm a good person.  But I have never loved how I look.  Most of the time I struggle to even like how I look.  Growing up I was always the chubby friend.  I had fat legs and thick eyebrows and annoyingly curly hair.  My fashion sense leans more towards comfort than trendy. 

About ten years ago my love/hate relationship with myself tipped more toward love than it ever had.  I was thinner than I'd been since high school.  I was fit and had a haircut (and color) that I loved.

Then August 1, 2013 happened.

Surviving breast cancer does quite a number on how a woman sees herself.  Despite being nauseous 24/7 during chemo, I gained weight.   I lost my hair, my eyebrows and eyelashes.  I had my breasts (and every other female part) removed.  I have had so many surgeries that even my scars have scars.  I was thrown into menopause at age 41.  I've been taking Tamoxifen (to block estrogen) for 4.5 years and it steals my energy, makes my joints hurt, and makes me gain weight.

As if all of that wasn't enough, I have one arm that is significantly bigger than the other, thanks to lymphedema.  It's so much bigger that shirt sleeves don't fit the same and I can't wear my wedding rings, a watch or a bracelet on that arm.  My left arm is fat and it hurts and the puffiness is so obvious and ugly that I'm extremely self-conscious about it.  When I don't wrap it, it's just all RIGHT THERE for me to see.  When I do wrap it, I get questioned about it numerous times a day.  Either way it's unwanted attention.

It's been five years since my diagnosis.  I finished chemo four and a half years ago.  My eyebrows and eyelashes came back, and my hair is the same as it was before (if you ignore all of the gray that I keep covered).  I had reconstruction so with clothes on I look normal, and even with clothes off I look mostly normal.  Thanks to the type of reconstruction I had, I even feel mostly normal... no cold, hard implants thank you very much.

But I'm not the same as I was before 2013, and I'm definitely not the same as I was a decade ago when I felt really good about myself.  Thanks to chemo, menopause and Tamoxifen it is practically impossible for me to lose weight.  I think I gain weight just looking at food!  I don't like to look in the mirror and I hate seeing myself in pictures.  All I can think is "Who is that fat lady?"  I'm seeing numbers on the scale I've never seen before, I hate the way my left arm looks and I feel like someone twice my age.

Believe me, I know things could be worse than not being happy with how I look.  I'm very grateful to be alive.  I'm happy and healthy and I thank God for every single day.  That doesn't mean I don't wish things were different.  And by "things".... I mean me.

(This isn't me fishing for compliments, I promise.  It's just a good, old-fashioned pity party.)

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1828

Yesterday Hubby and I took a road trip to Dallas for my appointment with Dr C.  It's been two long months since I had the nuclear medicine scan for my lymphedema, and I'm happy to say that I now have a plan for surgery.  That's the good news.

My surgery is January 14th.  That's the bad news.

Dr C is obviously in very high demand, which is good news.  The fact that all of his surgeries are a two or three month wait is bad news.  The surgery I will have is a six to eight hour surgery, and the first available day for that is next year.  Blech.  That's a long wait for an expensive surgery that may or may not help.  Some people see a lot of improvement.  Some people see zero improvement.  Dr C says the average is about 30%. 

Reducing my swelling by a third is not a cure, but at this point I'll take it.  I've been dealing with lymphedema since last May, and while it's mostly just an uncomfortable and unsightly annoyance, I.AM.OVER.IT.  I told Hubby today that I can't wait for cold weather so I can wear long sleeves.  I'm sick of looking at my arm.

Speaking of looking at my arm..... one of the very fun aspects of visiting the plastic surgery clinic is that they often want photos to document your case.  Even though my arm and hand are the only things affected by lymphedema, they couldn't just take photos of my arm.  Oh no.  Once again I had to pose topless so a stranger could take pictures of me.  Aren't you jealous?

On another note, today marks five years since my first chemo treatment...the day I officially started kicking cancer's ass.  It seems like a lifetime ago that I walked in to the oncology center armed with hard candy, cold caps in a cooler full of dry ice and a grape slush.  I will never forget the sight of the red devil (see the above photo), I will never forget the gross taste when they flushed my port, I will never forget pacing the infusion room pulling my iv pole around because the benadryl gave me really bad restless legs.  I hated every minute of the sixteen weeks of chemo, but I'm supremely proud of myself for conquering that beast.

Tonight was "Meet the Bulldogs" - the annual tradition of getting the Wylie community hyped up for the upcoming fall season (mostly football, but they also acknowledge the tennis, cross country, volleyball and golf teams).  It was the first time K got to walk down the track as an athlete (for junior high tennis) and it was the first time this year (of many, I hope) we got to hear the Pure Gold band perform "It Is Well". 

Funny story about tennis.  Ignoring the two short seasons K played basketball, her entire sports career has consisted of softball, softball and softball.  Unfortunately they don't have softball in junior high, so K had to make another choice for athletics.  She chose tennis.  The ONLY tennis experience she's had was during P.E. last year. 

Monday was the first day of school, and K came home and said "I better pick my feet up".
Turns out beginner tennis is the same period as symphonic band (which she happily reported she made).  That means they put her in competitive tennis.  As in, NOT beginner tennis.  Ha ha. 

Never a dull moment.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1809

One of the singular most important people in my life was born on this day.  

Almost thirty-four years ago exactly, I met Trudy for the first time.  We sat close to each other in homeroom (alphabetically, only 1 person between us) and on that first day in seventh grade she became my best friend forever.

Trudy was the person I could always count on, my partner in crime, the little voice in my head, the definition of a true friend.  A lot of people use the term BFF about people in their lives, but for me, that's what she was.  It didn't matter if we saw each other every day or every other year.... we could pick up right where we left off as if nothing had changed.  Over the years, through moves and relationships, illness and parenthood, many friends have come and gone.  I have other friends in my life, good friends, and so did she.  But she was my BFF.

You know the friend who knows all of your secrets, and loves you anyway?  The one who skips school with you to drive to Wurtsboro for breakfast?  The one who is always up for a concert, a road trip or a midnight hamburger at the diner?  For me, that was Trudy.  

For most of our adult lives we have celebrated birthdays separately.  I can't even remember the last time we were together for my birthday or hers.  But we never failed to send cards and gifts, and spend several hours on the phone on each other's special day.  Trudy would have been 46 years old today.

Ever since I was a twelve year old seventh grader, Trude has been a part of my life.  We shared joys and heartaches, pizza and chocolate milkshakes.  We passed notes in school and even had our own little "language" like young girls do.  So many people knew and loved her, and rightfully so.  But for me, Trudy was the sister of my heart.

A picture is worth a thousand words.  That's Trudy on the left, me on the right.  She was a redhead, I'm a brunette.  We both had cancer, and didn't have to fight it alone.  I never wanted to share that with anyone, and I hate so much that cancer is what took her from me.  But Trudy showed us all how to fight, how to persevere, and how to accept fate with dignity.

I miss her every day.

Happy Birthday BAH.  I hope you're having some NY pizza, Pepsi, Reeses Cups and Jolly Cow in heaven.  💛

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1808

As a spinoff from my post the other day, not only is August bipolar for me, this WEEK in August is bipolar.

This week the world celebrates three of my favorite things:

Today, August 9th, my mom will celebrate her hubby's birthday with him.  He is a warm, caring, hardworking man and we wish him a happy day!

Today, August 9th, we remember Hubby's mom Floy, as she passed away on this day eight years ago.  She was a warm, caring, selfless woman who gave the term "mother-in-law" a good name. 

Life is full of ups and downs.... I know that.... I just wish there weren't so many ups and downs at the same time!

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1806

August is a strange month for me.

A lot of my favorite people were born in August.

My mom on the 5th
My stepdad on the 9th
My BFF on the 10th (that's going to be sad this year)
My brother on the 23rd
My BFF's daughter on the 28th

Three years ago my mom and her guy tied the knot on August 1st, which makes that a happy day.  But two years prior to that, on August 1st, I was diagnosed with cancer, which makes that a decidedly UNHAPPY day.

Four years ago (last week) my dad's life changed forever.  A heart attack and stroke that were both serious enough that we weren't sure he would even live....  While August is a milestone month for him now, too (because he's alive and relatively well four years later) it's also an anniversary of one of the worst days of my life.  Getting the call at work, hearing the doctor tell me I might want to "make plans", packing for a trip not knowing if I would need funeral clothes... Ugh.

Eight years ago this week, on 8/9/10, Hubby lost his mom to cancer.  My kids lost their grandmother.  I lost a mother-in-law I was lucky to have.  A giving, patient, loving woman was taken from our world too soon.

So I'm not quite sure how I feel about August.  Lots of good and lots of bad.... makes it a bipolar month for me!

I have decided that August will just be a month where I exist until September.  

September has a lot to offer:  cooler temperatures (hopefully), football, marching band, fall softball, etc.  When asked if she's ready for school, K always answers "Yes, but not getting up early".  I hear ya sister.  My kids definitely are ready for some kind of routine and a social outlet that doesn't come with an LCD screen, but my 6:15am Mon-Fri alarm is not my friend.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1800

A lot of people who have not been directly affected by cancer often ask "So are you in remission?"

None of my doctors use that term.  None of my friends who've had cancer use that term.  Unless you constantly have scans, xrays and blood tests, there's absolutely no way to know you are 100% cancer-free.  How can you possibly know that there's not one teeny, tiny evil cancer cell somewhere in your body just waiting to wreak havoc?  You can't.

I've never said I'm cancer-free.  How can I determine when I beat cancer?  Do I count from my last chemo treatment?  Or the end of radiation?  Or after any of my more than a handful of cancer-related surgeries?  I have to take Tamoxifen, which is considered cancer treatment, for ten years.  So am I not cancer-free until after that?

What we do say is we are "dancing with NED".  You are wondering who the heck this Ned guy is?  "No Evidence of Disease".  Basically dancing with NED means no news is good news.  So what I'm doing, what I've been doing for over 1800 days, is surviving... because every day I'm alive and well and dancing with NED is a day that I've kicked cancer's ass.

The day I was diagnosed with breast cancer, August 1, 2013, I became a cancer survivor.

Over the last 1796 days (I started counting on the day of my first chemo treatment) I have written some impressive blog posts (yes, if I do say so myself!).  But none have been more meaningful to me than my "Survivor" posts:

One Year
Two Years
Three Years
Four Years

No matter how close you are to a person who has cancer, no matter how much you read or watch or listen about cancer, unless you've HAD cancer, you just don't know.  You don't know that gut-wrenching feeling of hearing the three dreaded words:  you have cancer.  You don't know the horrifying feeling of being forty years old and wondering if you are going to die.  You don't know the devastating feeling of telling your children you have cancer.

If you've never had to undergo chemotherapy, you just don't know.  You don't know the feeling of nurses having to wear gloves because the medicine they are giving you is so toxic.  You don't know the feeling of being so sick you can't even hold your head up.  You don't know the feeling of having to shave your head because your hair is falling out in clumps.  You don't know the feeling of eating the same stupid thing for days or weeks because it's the only thing you can keep down.  You don't know the feeling of having mouth sores and a nasty taste in your mouth 24/7.  You don't know the pain, the nausea....the overwhelming SICKNESS.  

If you've never had radiation, you just don't know.  You don't know the loneliness of being isolated in that radiation room every day for weeks.  You don't know the indignity of lying there, exposed, day after day after day.  You don't know the hassle of going to the cancer center every single day for six weeks.  You don't know the bone-crushing fatigue that makes you feel like you don't even have the energy to brush your teeth.  You don't know the worse than a sunburn shade of red that radiation turns your skin.

If you've never had cancer surgery, you just don't know.  You don't know the feeling of going into an operating room knowing they are going to be removing important parts of your body.  You don't know the pain and discomfort of a bilateral mastectomy, or a hysterectomy.  You certainly don't know how incredibly difficult the recovery is for a ten hour reconstruction surgery that affects not one or two, but four different areas of your body.  You don't know how much more difficult it is to bounce back after four, five, six, SEVEN surgeries.

I can talk about it all day long, but unless you've been through it, you just don't know.

What I have been through is nothing unique.  There are millions of cancer patients and cancer survivors all over the world.  Some have it easier than me, some have had a more difficult journey than I did.  But what I have been through is unique TO ME.  And I'm pretty damn proud of myself.

For the past five years I have been on an emotional roller coaster and an uphill physical battle.  It's not over, and it may never be over.  I'm not the same person I was before.  But I'm still here.  I'm happy & healthy despite the devastating effects of having cancer.  I'm alive and well.... still kicking ass and taking names...five years later.  

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1776

Today is this guy's birthday:

Eighteen years ago today Hubby and I spent our first "date" together at the beach.  It was the first time he'd ever seen the ocean.  I always used to tease him that he needed me in his life to broaden his horizons.  That's probably true.  But I also needed him...for everything.  Hubby is a good man, a devoted husband and a loving & supportive father.  

According to the birthday ninja, his birthday numbers 7, 8 and 1962 reveal that his Life Path number is 6. It represents justice, nurturing and responsibility. 

I would say that is pretty accurate.  Hubby is one of the most responsible, most loyal, most honest people I know.  He always does the right thing, even when it's not the easy thing.  He would give the clothes off his back for someone who needed them, and he never asks for anything.

Unfortunately his birthday lunch was interrupted by disappointing news.  It's getting to be old hat for us, but I'm really tired of people treating us poorly.  

I'm always upset when someone is dishonest or disloyal, because honesty and loyalty are two very important traits to us.  But it pisses me off even more when something like this happens and ruins Hubby's birthday.  He always puts himself last and never expects anything, so today, his birthday, I tried to make him feel a little special.  Considering a phone call at lunch put him in a lousy mood for the rest of the day, and a severe dizzy spell made him have to eat his ice cream cake lying down, I don't think I had any chance of succeeding in making sure he enjoyed his birthday.

All I can say is:  

That's all.  No drama.  No sob story.  We can't control what other people do, even when it affects us.  All we can do is keep on keeping on.  We treat other people how we would like to be treated, even though it rarely works out that way in reverse.  I just have one word:  karma.

Hubby....I know you are angry.  I know you are frustrated with the situation, and sick to death of people.  Just remember - this smile is why we do what we do.

I would put up with anything, work from the ground up as many times as I have to, in order to keep this girl happy doing what she loves.  

I know it wasn't the best one ever, but Happy Birthday Hubby.  My world is a better place because you are in it.  I love you.