Kicking cancer's ass - day 899

Last night Hubby and K had a date.  Not just a date, but a D-A-T-E!
He took her to Abilene's Daddy-Daughter dance for the first time.
Just like any girl, she needed a new dress for her date:

And just like any gentleman, Hubby rang the doorbell and came prepared with flowers and gifts:

They posed for the obligatory photo op:

They both kept me updated throughout the evening (he texted me, she called me while he was in the bathroom - ha ha).  She said, "THIS.IS.AWESOME!!!!!"  The food was good and they danced a lot.  The only complaints were that it was hot as hell in there (Hubby's words, not K's) and they only offered something to drink once, and that was only little Dixie cups with lemonade.  

All in all I'd say the evening was a success.  Hubby lucked out with the theme this year:  boot scootin boogie!  Since jeans, a nice shirt and his "good boots" are about the dressed up as he gets, it worked out perfectly.  He even sent me this pic when I asked where his cowboys hat was:

Real men wear pink, right?  (Have I mentioned that Hubby is a really good dad???)

Some of K's friends were there, which made the night even more fun for her... including her old BFF (center, in the blue):

I find it a little ironic that it's one year to the day exactly that I discovered her mom's criminal actions (if you don't remember, she was arrested for stealing tens of thousands of dollars from our softball league - case still pending).  Aside from finding out one of my best friends was a liar, thief and con-artist, the worst part of the whole ordeal was that my little girl lost her best friend.  They were BFFs since they were 3 years old, and except for the last basketball game of the season last year (they were on the same team) - which happened after I confronted my friend - K hasn't seen her friend since it all happened.  

I was afraid that K would be there with her dad, because they go every year.  And they were.  I asked Hubby if they were awkward with each other, and he said our K was timid at first, but once he told her she could talk to and play with her friend, they picked up like nothing ever happened.  He said they were running around, laughing and screaming just like old times.  

Seeing pictures and videos of them enjoying being together last night is bittersweet for me.  It warms my heart that her friend still cares about my girl and was happy to see her, too.  But it doesn't change anything.  Even though that little girl is innocent, I refuse to let my daughter have anything to do with K's parents.  Now that she saw her again, I keep waiting for K to ask me "When can I see K again?"   Sigh.  Stupid criminals.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 897

I despise this part of my morning ritual:

I hate taking pills.  I've always hated taking pills.

I remember when I was a kid and my mom wanted me to graduate from Flintstones chewables to one-a-day vitamins that you had to swallow.  I cried.  CRIED.  

Now I have one of those old people day/night pill divider things.

Hubby can grab a handful of pills and swallow them with one sip of water.  I have to guzzle water with every pill... separately.  By the time I'm done, I feel sick to my stomach just from taking my stupid pills.  

I have a pill to help my bones, a pill to block estrogen (and starve cancer cells), a pill for arthritis pain caused by the estrogen blocker, a pill to help my mood, a pill to make my hair and nails stronger, an allergy pill......I also have nighttime pills for hot flashes, restless legs, my digestive system.....it's endless.

And I'm starting to think it's pointless.  I'm exhausted all the time, I'm grouchy all the time, I'm gaining weight all the time, my legs are restless every night and every joint in my body from my pinky to the bottom of my foot hurts 24/7.  So either my pills are causing more problems or they're not working.  

Sadly, if I complain to my doctors, I'll probably end up with even MORE pills.

(I told you I'm grouchy)

Kicking cancer's ass - day 889

Technically I still have seven and a half hours until I turn 43 years old.

Honestly, I thought I already was 43.  Hmph.  Chemo brain, I guess.

Last year I wrote something fun and funny and witty on my birthday.  And I mentioned chocolate cake.  This year, well, you get the Minions.

That's all I've got.

I have a sick Hubby, a really sick little girl, and a pain-in-the-ass situation with our softball league and the city so I'm stressed to the max over a volunteer job!  Crazy world we live in.  

We made a video about the situation and Hubby posted it on Facebook.  It has over 70,000 views and over two thousand shares.  Holy cow!  My little girl is a Facebook phenom.  I would post it here but it exceeds the allowed file size.  Bah humbug.  You'll have to trust me.... she's very cute, my words are eloquent and the message deserves to be heard.  If anyone has a rich uncle who would like to build us a softball field or two so we can kiss the City of Abilene goodbye, I'd be forever grateful.

Since Hubby is sick, and K will be home sick again, which of my friends do you think will bring me chocolate cake?  Because really, when you get to the ripe old age of 43 after surviving Stage III cancer, what more could you want besides sunshine and chocolate cake?

Happy Birthday to me....and many more!

Kicking cancer's ass - day 885

Insomniac blogging....

So I'm wide awake at almost 1am.  This time it's not because I can't fall asleep.  It's because I DID fall asleep.  I had a headache and felt "off" this afternoon, so I slept like the dead for about three hours.  Rest I needed, sure, but waking up at 7pm means I'm still awake in the wee hours.

Hubby teased me about sleeping "all day", and even made the comment "who are you?" when he and K came home from basketball practice.  I know he was just giving me a hard time, but I also know there's a part of him that meant it.  He's probably so sick of my drama.  He has to be, because I'M so sick of it.  If I'm not at a doctor's appointment, I'm worrying about a symptom that's prompting me to make an appointment.  I'm not sleeping at night, I'm tired and napping during the day, I have no energy to do the stuff I used to do.  My back hurts, my knees crack, my left arm swells during the night.  I can't even joke "Not tonight, I have a headache" because most of the time I DO have a headache!  Who wants to live with that 24/7?

Honestly, he got the short end of the stick when he married me.  I've forced the "in sickness and in health" vow on him to the millionth degree.  So on top of all of the other post-cancer crap, I'm dealing with worry and guilt over not being the wife I want to be, and not being the mom I want to be for my kids.  It has been 883 days since my first chemo treatment.  That's a lot of freaking days.  I've been through a lot, no doubt about it, but I'm here, I'm alive and well and I'm blessed with family and friends.  So why is everything so incredibly hard???  Sometimes I feel like I was stronger, happier and more together in the middle of chemo than I am now.  I am a cancer survivor.  I tell myself I should be treasuring every day and just be happy I'm alive.

Yet I'm constantly overwhelmed.  My former perfectionist OCD multitasking expert self is nowhere to be found.  The shelves in my living room are still empty of our belongings two weeks after the carpet guy finished.  One of these days I would like to reclaim my laundry room, but I just can't seem to summon the energy to open the storage tubs full of knick knacks and photo albums.  More often than not we eat out because I either can't remember to plan ahead or can't find the energy to cook.  I stress over making healthy choices about eating because there are so many things I love that are bad for you.  I'd love to lose the thirty pounds I've gained, but it's hard to find motivation when fatigue is my constant companion and every joint in my body hurts.  I want to be the fun, spontaneous mom that makes childhood a magical time for her kids, and yet I'm just not her.  I want to be the sweet, caring woman that my husband fell in love with all those years ago.... not the tired, grumpy, complaining person I am now.  I haven't talked to my BFF in months.  Not because I don't want to, because I forget to call.  I want to do more.  I want to be more.

I found a great blog by Debbie Woodbury called "Running on Empty - Coping with Cancer Stress"
She describes everything I'm feeling so perfectly.  It's worth a read.

She says:

But the transition from patient to cancer survivor is not an easy one and the new normal brings its own cancer stress. Even for prisoners, the re-entry phase into normal society is usually gradual, but such is not the case for most cancer survivors. Family and friends want to return to normal life as soon as possible, and who can blame them? The cancer survivor wants that too, of course. But what we want is not always what we are capable of achieving, which causes even more cancer stress (and often, full-blown cancer anger.) After all we have been through, we are running on empty and only capable of so much.  

Who I am right now is unacceptable to me.  And yet.... what can I do?   I'm on antidepressants to help keep my mood even.  I'm taking supplements to help me stay healthy and to combat the side effects of the medicine I'm on.  I try to exercise at least 30 minutes a few times a week, which is the best I can do right now.

But it doesn't feel like my best is enough.  *I* don't feel like enough.
I feel like I'm letting my husband down.  I feel like I'm letting my kids down.  Even after 883 days, cancer is draining me.
I'm running on empty.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 881

Do you know how much junk a family of four collects over the course of 15+ years?
Of course I've weeded through toys and clothes semi-regularly, and we've replaced furniture and appliances as needed.  But still.... there is SO.MUCH.STUFF!

We decided to replace our carpet and bathroom floors recently, which means basically packing up all of your belongings as if you were moving.  The floor guys will move furniture, but not personal items, anything fragile or electronics.  So.... in order to pack, we had to weed through the mountains of stuff that we had lying around the house.  The kids' rooms (especially the closets) were the worst.

You thought I was kidding, right?  

Granted, that picture was about midway through emptying out his closet, but still.  How much junk does a teenage boy need???

That was after the clean-up (clean OUT??) - before new floor.  

And the finished product:

We went with vinyl floor instead of carpet in his room because J is allergic to... well... everything.

K's room looked pretty much the same as J's did when we were weeding through the mess.  I didn't take a picture, but you can imagine - books, toys, stuffed animals, dvds, shoes, more stuffed animals..... 

Here her room is before new carpet:

And after (with a little rearranging, too):

Our bedroom didn't have quite the clutter as the kids' rooms, but the closet came close.

Now it's all fresh and clean:

During the whole new flooring adventure, all of my stuff was confined to the garage and this little corner of my dining room (where I was also confined during the 2.5 days it took to complete):

And just to make things interesting, we had our new range delivered right in the midst of everything.

I always wanted a double oven, and I love, love, love it!

Here's the living room before:

Getting there....

Finally!

The carpet ended up looking more brown than I had planned after it was installed,
but overall I'm very pleased. 

And the bathrooms - before and after:

I've never had to pack up an entire house to move (only a small apartment), and I'm not looking forward to doing so anytime soon.  (Unless we win the lottery and I get my beach house!)   I still have containers of stuff yet to be put away.  The clutter in my dining room, laundry room and garage is getting to me, so it's only a matter of time before everything finds its home again.

Hubby's brother asked him if there was anything original left in the house (Hubby built the house 10 years before I moved here).  He joked that he was the only thing left!  ha ha

Kicking cancer's ass - day 874

In honor of Martin Luther King, Jr
(And I believe this applies to what cancer survivors go through)

Kicking cancer's ass - day 872

Attention football fans:

K's softball team is trying to raise money for the upcoming season.  This football board is $25 per square, and we'll be giving away $250 each quarter during the Super Bowl.
(You don't even have to be local..... we can take - and send - via PayPal)

The funds raised will help these girls participate in tournaments this spring (each tournament can cost over $400 to play).

Email michelleburleson12@gmail.com if you're interested in helping the Lady Diamonds!

Kicking cancer's ass - day 871

True, right?
This is something I struggle with daily.  Before cancer, I never was a very fearful person.  I worried about stuff, maybe too much, but I never let those worries overtake me.  I was calm, I was levelheaded.

Since cancer, I worry a lot.  Some of it is justified... I mean, I had Stage III invasive breast cancer.  At the age of 40.  When I was diagnosed, I should have only been halfway through my life, and yet three little words changed how I looked at everything.  Forget about living until I'm 80.  Will I even make it to 50?  60?

One of the most common pieces of advice given to cancer patients is to "stay positive".  Easier said than done.  You try staying positive when you have something inside you that could kill you.  Even once it's gone.... destroyed by chemo, blasted by radiation, removed with surgery.... the wondering is always there.  Will it come back?  Did they get it all?  Is there something lurking, growing somewhere inside of me, without me knowing?

It's a little irrational, but you'd be amazed how fast your mind can take an idea and run with it.  A headache means a brain tumor.  Pain in my ribs means bone cancer.  A lump ANYWHERE means cancer.  Major fatigue isn't caused by overdoing it or stress or meds.... it's the cancer overtaking my body.

Crazy, right?  Except.... not.  I'm an optimist and a dreamer, but cancer has made me a realist, too.  There's a very real possibility that I will have to face this beast again in my lifetime.  I hope and pray that I'm one of the lucky ones.  That is my greatest wish, aside from happy and healthy lives for my children:  to die an old woman from something other than breast cancer.  I want to be one of those women my friends will talk about years from now, saying "She had breast cancer ten years ago and she's still doing great!"  But I've known too many who have had it come back (some more than once).  When you're faced with the worst case scenario, it's hard NOT to go there again and again.  If it comes back, it's Stage IV.  And that has no cure.

Years ago I had a miscarriage.  I'd never known anyone who had been through that, I never in a million years expected it to happen to ME.  I naively thought a positive pregnancy test meant a baby.  Three weeks later, no baby.  I was devastated.  A month later I was pregnant again.  You have no idea how fearful I was during those early days of that second pregnancy.  I was pregnant before, and I lost that baby.  I worried every day that it would happen again.  Thankfully I was blessed with a perfectly healthy baby boy six days after his due date.
Fast forward three years.... another positive pregnancy test.  Ten weeks later...another miscarriage.  OH MY GOD.  You see why I worried?  Once it happens to you, you worry it will happen again.  Once it happens to you AGAIN..... there are no words.  Six months later I became pregnant again, and thankfully I had an obstetrician who was very careful (given my history) and scheduled me for monthly ultrasounds.  Being able to see my baby time and again before she was born was so reassuring.  

Maybe you can understand why sometimes fear drives me.  There are no guarantees that I won't have to deal with this again.  I actually have a higher than average risk of developing cancer again thanks to the BRCA gene.  So sometimes.... I just have to wallow in self-pity and worry and convince myself that I'm going to have to "go there" again.

And then I put my big girl panties on and get over it.
Tonight I had dinner with a friend, and on the way home one of my all-time favorite songs came on.  It's like Garth Brooks was giving me my own little pep talk:

Too many times we stand aside 
And let the waters slip away 
'Til what we put off 'til tomorrow 
It has now become today 
So don't you sit upon the shoreline 
And say you're satisfied 
Choose to chance the rapids 
And dare to dance that tide 
And I will sail my vessel 
'Til the river runs dry 

I may be worried, and there are days the fear will rule my mind. But I want to chance the rapids, and I want to dance that tide. Whether I have two months or four decades left to live, I'm going to make the most of it, even on my bad days.  Screw you cancer.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 867

And so it begins....

That's what my dining room looks like right now.  Every belonging we have that couldn't be packed up is stacked in there.  There's a tiny corner of the table that's open where my computer sits, and that's where you'll find me for the next two days.  My garage is full of dismantled bed frames and Rubbermaid tubs.  We have made a hefty contribution to Abilene's trash collection, and we carted off a crap-ton of toys, clothes and furniture to storage (that we'll hopefully sell in a garage sale).

Why all the fun, you ask?  We are getting new floors.  Something I am very excited about!  New tile in the bathrooms.... new (fake) wood flooring in J's bedroom and new carpet throughout the rest of the house.  The only floor that has been "updated" since I moved here fifteen years ago is the kitchen, so it's about time the rest of the house catches up!  We had planned to do this a few years ago, right before I got sick.  And then I got sick.  Cancer was a much higher priority than carpet.  Now I'm better, so here we go!

That's exciting, right?  The prep work was not so exciting.  I honestly feel like we could have been on an episode of Hoarders.  My kids had SO MUCH STUFF!!!  I admit I have a lot of shoes, and even more books.  But that's it, and they can both be neatly (sort of) contained.  But J & K?  Gah.  I swear their rooms were like a disaster zone.  I almost thought about calling in the National Guard.  Obviously I need to do a better job of weeding out more than just clothes that don't fit anymore.

However, that's all done.  The floor guy is here now banging and scraping and ripping up old carpet.  By tomorrow night, we'll hopefully have brand spanking new floors and can start to re-right the ship that kind of resembles the Titanic right now.  Once we get the beds back together, I can take my time putting a lot less stuff back in a much more organized fashion.  If you know me, then you know that is right up my alley.  Typical OCD perfectionist stuff.

Hopefully my next post will have before and after pictures so I can show off my nice, clean, new floors!
(I'm also still oven-less so we are eating out a lot, which helps with not having a kitchen table!  But the new one shipped, so hopefully this week....)

Kicking cancer's ass - day 863

In 2000, January 7th became the best day of my life.  I didn't know it then, when I logged in to a chat room (remember those??) and started talking to "Adam" that he would be the man to change me forever.  Late night chats became emails, daily emails became phone calls, phone calls eventually became visits and the rest is history.  My history with Hubby.

I read this quote today:

I wasn't looking when I met you.  But you turned out to be everything I was looking for.

Truer words were never spoken.  I was a New York girl living in South Carolina, 26 years old hanging around in a 30-something chat room (because let's face it, younger guys may be hot but they are SO immature!).  I stumbled upon a Texan who shared my love of country music and football.  One of our first dates was a tour of the old Texas Stadium.  One of our best dates was an Alabama concert where we sweated our butts off and stood for three hours because it was that good.

We've been through births and deaths.  We've made friends together and we've lost friends together.  We've suffered financial setbacks and enjoyed more prosperous times.  We've played golf together and we've gone to Vegas together.  I introduced him to the beach, he introduced me to Mexican food.  I endure his love of "who done it" shows and he indulges my love for romance novels.  We've lost two children and created two more.  We've been to weddings and funerals together.  I've sat with him through numerous injections for his bad back, and he's been by my side through countless medical procedures (and I mean countless!).  He makes me laugh, he thinks I'm a nut, and he loves me for me.

That's a pretty cool thing, because I love him for him.
Happy 16 years, Hubby.

In 2007, January 7th became one of the worst days in Hubby's (and through him, mine as well) life.  His brother Daryl was killed in a motorcycle accident.  I can't pretend to know what it's like to lose your big brother.  All I know is Hubby handled it with his characteristic stoic strength and calm.  I know this day brings sad memories for him along with the happy ones, but isn't that what life is all about?

Kicking cancer's ass - day 862

Blast from the past.

Three Little Cowboys: Mad

That is a link to my sweet friend Allyson's blog post the day she learned I had cancer.
Ally's Wish, the charity started in her honor, was asking on Facebook about how her stories have touched your life.  I wanted to quote what she wrote to me that day so I went looking back through her blog.

Confidential to M:

 

So, today was a bad day.  And there will be some more bad days.  But hear me loud and clear, sister: you are not alone!!!  There is no way that I am going to sit over here and let you walk down this road unassisted.  I KNEW all this cancer stuff would come in handy someday!  :)  It's okay to be scared, and it's okay to be mad (obviously!), as long as you remember the three things:  1) God loves us. 2) God is always in control. 3) God is good.

You are the daughter of a big, big God who is holding you in the palm of his big, big hand.  And you have a slightly crazy friend who will do just about anything for you.  Anytime, day or night.  Any reason.  You are loved.

Oh yeah---let's hit up Bahama Buck's, okay?  My treat.

I hate that Allyson is no longer on this earth.  I think about her every day.  I see her sweet face on my refrigerator every time I walk into my kitchen.  Her book has a permanent place on my bookshelf in my bedroom.  I continue to stalk her family on Facebook.  I miss her.

But I am forever grateful that I had her in my life for the time I did.  Everyone should be so lucky.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 861

What I wish everyone knew:

No, I don't have Fibromyalgia.  But the after-effects of cancer treatment and surgeries mimic a lot of the fibro symptoms.  I am on the better side of treatment, but there are days I still feel pretty lousy.  I am thankful I don't have the 24/7 yuck feeling of chemo or the pain of recovering from surgery.  SO thankful.  But there are days, still, when I could sleep all afternoon, when everything hurts, when hot flashes come more than they go, when restless legs and/or insomnia keep me up at night, when I have almost unbearable fatigue.  

I am happy to be {knock on wood} "done" with surgeries, chemo and radiation.  If the worst thing I have to deal with is side effects of medicine and learning to handle how treatment changed my body, I'll take it.  

Two years and two days ago, I had a bilateral mastectomy.  Two years ago today I came home to sleep in the recliner for four weeks and let my mom and Hubby take care of my house and my family.  The fact that I am working, cleaning, shopping, reading, cooking, hosting Christmas and New Year's Eve parties, packing lunches, supervising homework, doing laundry and everything else that being Michelle entails is a miracle to me, and I'm grateful for every chore-filled day.

But being grateful doesn't mean I can't complain.  And since I have those complaints, I'd like to encourage you to support anyone who has a "hidden" illness.  Even though they may look fine (or better than they have in a long time) doesn't mean everything IS fine.  For me and others like me, the struggle is managing the lasting physical effects of treatment and coping with the fear that never goes away.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 856

"The goal is to live a full productive life, even with all that ambiguity. No matter what happens, whether the cancer never flares up again or whether you die, the important thing is the days that you have had, you will have lived." - Gilda Radner

One of my KCA friends posted this on Facebook today, and it really struck a chord with me.  I've been struggling for some time with fear, worrying that everything that's wrong with me is cancer sneaking up on me again.  It doesn't take much to convince myself that my bones and joints don't ache because of the Arimidex, they hurt because they are being overrun by cancer cells.  When I wake up with a bad headache, it's probably a brain tumor.  Blurry vision is not a leftover gift from chemo, it's the other "c" word.

I could go on and on.

But you know what?  Screw that.  I'm going to take a page from Gilda Radner's book and I'm going to try to focus on living instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I doubt I'll be able to completely eliminate the fear, but maybe I can work on being too busy to worry all that much.

I don't know if I have two months or forty years left in my life, so I don't want to take a single minute for granted.  

Tonight I came out of the bathroom to find K sitting on my bed with her doll Emma - waiting for me.  She asked me if she could show me how to do Emma's hair.  My initial reaction was to say "maybe later", but I caught myself.  In that minute, my little girl asking for my attention was way more important than my book and the couch that were calling my name.  

I now know how to do a fishtail braid.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 855

Today is the last day of 2015.  

After spending the last 2 1/2 years going to my multitude of doctors, enduring countless tests and procedures, taking medicine, having a bunch of surgeries (did you remember there were 7 of them?) and recovering from those surgeries, I'm looking forward to what I hope will be an uneventful new year.

I don't usually make new year's resolutions, because no matter how good my intentions, I never stick to them.  I'm making an exception this year.  In addition to the one in the picture above (because we could all be more awesome, in my opinion), my resolution is to NOT max out my health insurance coverage next year.  Ha ha.  After reaching the catastrophic limit three years in a row, it would be nice to keep my insurance claims to a minimum (if there is such a thing for a cancer survivor).

Kicking cancer's ass - day 854

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve.  Bring on the New Year's resolutions!

Kicking cancer's ass - day 849

Christmas 2015

A wonderfully quiet, peaceful day with my little family.

The kids woke us up early to open presents.  We had a baked pastry (a.k.a. too many calories) for breakfast, snacked and napped off and on during the day and enjoyed a delicious Christmas meal for dinner.  We capped off the night with a movie (Big Hero 6 which I hadn't seen before and thoroughly enjoyed!).  

Everyone is happy with their gifts.  

My heart is full.  

Kicking cancer's ass - day 848

I am so thankful to be spending another Christmas, happy and healthy, with the people most important to me.  Every holiday, every birthday, every day after cancer is a milestone, and I don't take any of it for granted.

To my Hubby:

You are my true north.  In a couple of weeks we'll have reached sixteen years since we logged on and said hello for the first time.  I've never been so grateful for anything in my life as I am for the night I "met" you.  You have changed my life for the better.  You have given me children who mean the world to me.  Your family has become my family.  You are my rock, my sounding board, my shoulder to cry on, the one person I can count on no matter what.  You make me laugh every day.  Your hugs make everything better.  Your steady support has gotten me through the absolute worst time of my life.  Home is wherever you are.  You have my heart forever.

To my children:

You are the lights of my life.  You drive me crazy in the ways only a teenage boy and a preteen girl could do, but I couldn't have asked for more incredible children.  Your pure hearts, your compassion, your creativity and imaginations, your thoughtfulness and delight in the world around you make me so proud to be your mom.  My life would not be the same without softball games, band concerts and Minecraft conversations.

To my parents:

You are two of the best people I've ever known.  You have both suffered severe, awful medical setbacks and have handled them with dignity and grace, and unbelievable strength.  You love unconditionally and have shown me who I want to be when I grow up.  Thank you for raising me right.

To my brother:

I miss you.  I'm sorry that you've had a rough time.  I'm so glad I was able to see you last month and get a hug from my big brother.  You're the guy who first introduced me to football and the Dallas Cowboys (to my Hubby's delight).  You appreciate the novelty of Peanuts greeting cards even though we are not kids anymore.  You love my kids in the way only a fun uncle can, and I know you are here in spirit, even when you can't be with us.  I hope 2016 is your year.

To my BFF:

I promise to make more time for you.  Life has a way of going crazy, as you well know.  We've both been dealt the same hand.... a husband, two busy kids, cancer, moms with cancer..... but you've been the one constant in my life since we were 12.  I hate that phone calls and texts are all we have, because you are the most fun.  Your friendship is what I wish for every girl to have.  You "get" me.  We can talk every week or not talk for two months, and still we can pick up where we left off.  I hope we get our New York time in this summer (and maybe a concert!), but if not, we will have to figure out a time/place to visit.  I miss you.

To Sharon:

Ten years of friendship. Wow, we're getting old.  You are a true and faithful friend.  You have my back no matter what.  I can always count on you for a laugh, a hug and an entertaining story.  Life has its ups and downs, and even during the "downs", you make me smile. 

To Marti (and Emily):

I can't even begin to explain what your friendship has meant to me and my girl.  K and I were dealt a huge blow earlier this year, and you've helped us pick up the pieces by becoming our posse.  I love love love that K has a BFF who is sweet, fun, funny and who loves my girl as much as my girl loves Emily.  Thank you for being there for me.  Your hugs, your dugout duty in relief, your late night text conversations over things that amuse us..... the world could use a lot more people like you and I'm lucky I get to call you friend.

To the Lady Diamonds peeps:

You guys are my family.  Five years ago I never knew how important softball would become to me.  Your girls are my girls.  Their parents are my friends.  I love our team.  We have drama and fun, wins and losses, laughter and tears, and through it all, I wouldn't trade the Diamonds for anything. 

To Kim and Kala:

MOVE BACK!

To Shadow:

My faithful companion.... my world is a little dimmer since you passed on earlier this year.  You were a part of my life for 19 years.... almost half my life.  I couldn't have asked for a better kitty, and I hope you and Pumpkin are happy to be reunited.  You were the best and I miss you.

My son asked me earlier what I wanted for Christmas.  I told him I have everything I want, and I meant it.  I've been a cancer survivor since August 1, 2013.  I have a wonderful husband, fantastic kids, true friends, a loving family.  I get paid to work with my husband, who happens to be my favorite person in the world.  I have two amazing breast cancer support groups through which I've been able to meet the most incredible women.  I was able to see my mom get married, and walk my first 5k in Vegas (and eat gummy bears) with another wonderful friend, 

Life is good.  And I am thankful.

Merry Christmas to all of the blessings in my life.  I am rich because of you.

Now "Let It Be Christmas"

Kicking cancer's ass - day 847

Merry Little Christmas.

If you don't know what that is, you're obviously not of Norwegian/Scandinavian descent.  Ha!

In my family, we've always celebrated "little Christmas".  In Norway, people open gifts on Christmas Eve.  We still open our presents on Christmas morning, but the elves fill our stockings on LITTLE Christmas Eve, so we open them on Christmas Eve morning.  Takes a little bit of the Christmas anticipation edge off, and makes you the envy of all the other kids when you get something from Santa before anyone else!

Christmas Eve is also the last visit from Heart.  Our busy little elf will be going back home to the North Pole tomorrow night -  Christmas Eve - until next year.  As you can see, she had to get all dressed up for her final performance this Christmas season.

Today is also a special day for another reason:  it marks the final step in the reconstruction process for me.  This afternoon I had an appointment at my plastic surgery clinic with the tattoo artist.  Guess what?  Almost two years exactly from the day I had my breasts removed, I have complete breasts again.  They were constructed from fat from other parts of my body, they are scarred, they have little to no feeling and the nipples are fake.  But they look like breasts.  Finally.

I have to wear bandages on them for five days and may need a touch-up session in a few months (because scar areas don't absorb the ink the same way as regular skin so it might look uneven), but over the next month or so, I should be able to look down and see something I haven't seen since January 3, 2014.

God willing, this will be the last in the long line of tests, procedures, treatments and surgeries I've endured over the last 27 months.  I hope to stay on this end of the cancer battle, only seeing my doctors every six months for them to tell me "everything looks good".  If the worst things I have to complain about are my achy joints, restless legs and extra ten (or thirty) pounds, I'm calling it good.

Merry Little Christmas Eve.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 846

I don't want to jinx myself, but tomorrow is (hopefully) my last doctor's appointment for the year.

 
Scheduling a trip to Dallas the week of Christmas isn't my idea of fun, but when you've maxed out your insurance three years in a row, you learn to fit as much into a calendar year as possible while it's paid 100%!  Tomorrow's appointment is at my plastic surgeon's office.  Unfortunately Dr T is out of the office, so another doctor will have to see me.  Just what I want, someone ELSE looking at my naked chest.  Ha.  One of the worst things about going to the plastic surgeon is that they take pictures.  Lots of pictures.  One of the best things about going to the plastic surgeon is that I don't have to get on the scale.

This appointment should be the final step in my reconstruction process, and then I can hopefully be on "see you in six months" visits with ALL of my doctors.

845 days.... about damn time.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 840

Help!
Someone send get better vibes to my house.

My issues are nothing new.  Everything hurts.  BAD.  My knees crack when I stand up, sit down or climb stairs.  I have no strength in my wrists or elbows and even my ankles feel the hurt.  I have a newfound sympathy for people who suffer from arthritis.  It sucks.  
I can't sleep because I can't sleep and because everything gets restless as soon as my back hits the bed, especially my legs.  I'm trying a switcheroo today and taking my Arimidex (a.k.a. the devil) at night in hopes of being more awake during the day and more sleepy during the night.  We shall see.


The other day J stepped on a piece of glass in the bathroom.  We're guessing it was from a light bulb Hubby dropped which then broke.  Poor guy has been limping for days.  We think the glass splinter is gone, but it's hard to tell on the bottom of a foot.  He somehow hurt his back, too, and has confiscated my back massage pillow.  I love that he gets a good workout in during off-season football, but it makes me worry a little bit that he might overdo it with the weights.

Today was just another in a string of bad days for K.  She had a bad stomach ache at school and had to leave before her Christmas party even began.  Monday she stayed home because she still wasn't feeling good after being sick (throwing up) on Sunday.  At her softball tournament Saturday she hit herself in the mouth with her bat and busted her lip and cut her gum.  Luckily the tooth she hit is a baby tooth.

Seriously.
Hubby is the only one with no real issues right now, other than his usual aches and pains and some sniffles.  It's probably just a matter of time before the other shoe drops.

Then we can all be miserable for Christmas!

Kicking cancer's ass - day 837

Insomniac blogging...

I feel like a newborn baby who has her nights and days mixed up.
I wonder when I will ever have a good night's sleep again.  I'm sleepy when I wake up.  I'm exhausted by late afternoon.  I make myself go to bed around 10-11pm.  Then I wake up all night long.  And when I do sleep, I have crazy, crazy dreams.

4am seems to be my magic hour.  I wake up, almost wide awake, around that time every night.  Nothing is wrong.  I usually get up to use the bathroom.  I'll wander to the kitchen to get a drink.  Sometimes I'll check the weather on my computer.  Then I go back to bed, eventually fall back asleep, and then curse my alarm when it goes off an hour or two later.

Yesterday I dozed on the couch for more than an hour.  I guess that little bit was enough to keep me up.  I made myself go to bed at midnight.  I tossed and turned, made it through a couple of hot flashes by flipping my pillow over to the cooler side, and finally gave up a few minutes ago.

If the rain hasn't put a damper on it, we have to be at the fields by 7am for an 8am softball game.  Getting up at 5:45 is going to be loads of fun when I'm still wide awake at 1am.

I miss the days when I could fall asleep anywhere and sleep through an apocalypse.
Think Hubby would notice if I tried this?

Kicking cancer's ass - day 832

I want to share something that one of my KCA sisters shared.  It's from a blog written by a cancer survivor named Betsy Hnath.  I'm also sharing the link so credit goes where it's due.

I could not have written anything more eloquent or more accurate about life after cancer.

Sailing the Waves of Cancer

It’s been four years since my diagnosis with stage II breast cancer: One and a half of them I spent in treatment, the other two and a half I spent dealing with the aftermath.

As time passes, and my emotional ship sails in relative equilibrium for longer stretches, I try to spend more time on the deck, taking in my surroundings, living in the moment. Then cancer sends up a flare in the distance and my attention is shifted: A random pain, tightness in my chest, or some extra fatigue. These bright, red burning lights remind me it is always there, hovering, perhaps waiting to attack again.

Sometimes cancer is a cannon, launching its missile close enough to graze my bow, as it has recently. When I hear that close friends, young friends, healthy friends have been diagnosed, I begin to sway. I know they will soon begin building their own ship and join the growing fleet that surrounds me of loving, faithful, undeserving patients. I mourn for their loss of the “old normal.” I know what it does to you.

I have to sit back and powerlessly watch during the excruciating 2-3 weeks it takes to learn everything they can about their enemy through scans and tests, and formulate their plan of attack. Nothing can be done to slow down or speed up that time.

I can tell them what I know from experience: that this is the worst of it, this first part. Shifting uncomfortably in scratchy, paper gowns as you wait in sterile, silent exam rooms; the inability to get the smell of hand sanitizer out of your nose; shaking hands with one doctor after another as he or she flips through your life, which has been neatly assembled onto a clipboard. How you can go from feeling normal to completely despondent, sometimes within the same ten-minute span. That ache, burning in your chest, as you inhale yesterday’s Suave when you bend down and kiss your children’s heads as they sleep, wondering how many more nights you’ll get to do it. I can prepare them and reassure them, but in the end they will sail through it on their own just as we all do.

Cancer’s most effective attacks come with news of a recurrence. So far it hasn’t been mine, but the disease has resurfaced in people I love. It rips a hole in my side, allowing the visions and fears of my own eventual diagnosis to flood in. This is when family, friends and sometimes professionals come help bail out panic by the bucketful as I struggle to stay afloat. Even though objectively every person’s experience is unique, if you’ve had cancer, it’s impossible not to see yourself in both the successes and disappointments of your peers who have it, too.

Sometimes I wish I could distance myself from my armada, because when their seas are rough, I can’t help but toss along with them. I want to pull away and go back to my views of the shore as I sail on my own, calm water. But there is an unspoken family in cancer and there is strength in numbers. By sharing information, support and love, we break through the chop, making it easier for those behind us; but that doesn’t make it easy.

By remaining a resource, it’s impossible to rid myself of my memories. I can’t stop my heart from breaking at news of a friend who has been diagnosed with cancer, either newly or with a recurrence. I also can’t help but scrape wounds that had only just started to heal in me after my own experience. My BRCA2 didn’t only damage my genes. It attacked my soul.

Most who have crossed the ocean of cancer often end up with some PTSD, and I am not immune. A smell, taste or even a certain item of clothing, can trigger a memory of a dark day, sending me into a spiral of depressive thoughts. Seeing a stranger in a bandana, with penciled-in eyebrows still both repels me and makes me long to talk to them. It’s hard to look and not be thrown back into days filled with chairs in a row, IV poles next to each, a rainbow of poisons connected to chests and elbows, all in an attempt to fend off death.  Still, I want to approach these individuals, to tell them if I can do it, so can they. Most often I settle for an “I’m in the club, too” nod and smile.

Maybe by year five I’ll learn how to cruise my cancer seas more effectively.  To better balance my desire and responsibility to help others with my own need to get some emotional distance from the experience. I need both to feel whole, but the equation of how they best fit together in my life has yet to present itself.

Until then I will sail along, offering what I can, taking in vistas, and learning as I go.
By Betsy Hnath

Kicking cancer's ass - day 831

I have a love/hate relationship with this whole Elf on a Shelf thing.
K loves our elf.  I mean loves our elf.  She started counting down in November, saying she couldn't wait until Heart gets here.  She asks me every night if I will wake her up early so she can look for Heart.  The joy she gets from this silly little tradition is amazing.  Even my fourteen year old asks every morning, "Where's Heart?".

That's the part I love.

The parts I hate?  Having to a) remember to move the darn elf every night (which I mostly do thanks to the reminder on my phone!), b) staying up later than my kids, which isn't always easy! and c) thinking of new and creative things for Heart to do.  Ugh.

I've seen a lot of ideas passed on through Facebook and Pinterest.  There are a lot of desperate elf owners out there.  We've done the roasting marshmallows over a candle bit.  Heart has made minions on the bananas with a Sharpie.  Last year she toilet papered our Christmas tree.  But frankly, who has the time for most of that?  I just don't have a miniature toothbrush hanging around so our elf can pretend to brush her teeth.  I don't want to sit and build a fort out of Legos so she can have a snowball fight with marshmallows.  Our house is only so big, and this is our third year of Heart appearances, so I'm running out of places for her to creatively hide.

Bah Humbug.

This morning Heart was taking in the sunrise from our front door.

Cute, right?  

Too bad I still have eighteen more ideas to come up with.

Stupid elf on a shelf.  

On a positive note, even though I'm not quite feeling my usual Christmas cheer this year, we got our tree this weekend.  It's up, decorated and I love it.  There's nothing quite like sitting in the evening with the twinkling lights and the scent of the Christmas tree filling the room.

If only Hubby would let me have a fire in the fireplace, our Christmas card scene would be complete.