Kicking cancer's ass - day 1364

Three years ago today I had my 33rd, and last, radiation treatment.  I have had more than a handful of surgeries since then, but May 20, 2014 marked the end of "active treatment".  While I count myself a survivor from d-day, this day three years ago is the day I completely kicked cancer's ass.

1094 days later, I'm still walking away like a boss.  Take that, cancer.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1362

Three years ago today I wrote this..... and I still feel exactly the same.
Who knew I could be so profound??  😁

Day 265

I spent all morning yesterday crying from the migraine pain and then all afternoon fighting the nausea that the migraine and pain meds brought on.  I don't know what causes my headaches and I hate them with a passion, especially ones like that.  However, I know they are temporary.  Most often they are helped with pain medication, massage, walking, sleep or a shower, or some combination of all of those.  As I reclined on the couch all day feeling low, I realized that my sweet friend A has felt exactly like that (or worse) for months and months, and hers is not temporary.  She doesn't have a lot of time left to be a mom to her three little cowboys....what do I have to complain about?

I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 40 years old.  After "seeing" my BFF go through this exact same thing at almost the exact same age, I never in a million years thought I'd follow in her footsteps.  Knowing that the sister of my heart had been through every test, every treatment and every surgery I had to face was such a comfort to me.... there was at least one person in my life who not only loves me but knows exactly what I'm going through every step of the way.

The one thing that scared me more than anything else was chemo, and when I found out I was going to be given the harshest chemo regimen, there was a tiny part of me that wanted to refuse.  Chemo makes you sick, it takes your hair, it can do damage to your heart, it wears you down.  But you know what?  I not only survived, I handled it way better than I could have ever imagined.  Was it fun?  Heck no.  But so many women had it so much worse.  I spent one evening in the emergency room.  My sister-in-law spent days hospitalized after each treatment.  My friend's eight year old daughter is going through chemo right now in Canada and her treatment calls for a week in the hospital at a time for chemo..... and radiation at the same time.  This sweet girl is K's age.  Losing my hair and my taste for diet coke doesn't seem like a high price to pay for saving my life.

I was so emotional at the idea of losing my hair.  I spent hours and hours researching cold caps and hundreds of dollars in an attempt to save my hair by using the caps.  I tried, but they didn't work, and you know what?  The world didn't end.  I was bald, I wore hats and wigs and bandanas and hated every minute.... but I got through it.  I look in the mirror now and I see a stranger with short hair that sticks out in every direction who looks nothing like the me I'm used to.... but it's the new, cancer-free me.  Did you know chemo comes with a 6% risk of permanent hair loss?  While I hate my super short hair, I could still have NO hair.....

I've heard horror stories about radiation.  Most people say it's a walk in the park compared to chemo.  Ok, I made it through chemo relatively unscathed... so I can do this, right?  Then I see pictures of bright red, peeling skin and people needing ice and percocet to control the pain toward the ends of rads and my whole body cringes.  More than six weeks of daily Monday through Friday appointments sounds daunting.  But you know what?  I have two.... TWO.... radiation treatments left.  My skin is a little itchy and under my arm turned dark, but there is no skin damage and my radiation oncologist was once again surprised when he saw me yesterday.  "Your skin is doing very well" is what I've heard almost every day.  I've made it through six weeks of daily radiation ..... two more to go and I will be finished with 267 days of active treatment.

Along the way down this dark, long and winding road of surviving cancer I've met some incredible people.  My online Bellas have helped me through some rough patches with their love, wisdom and experience.  One of them posted the other day about feeling a little guilty because she "only" needed surgery for her breast cancer - so it seemed to her that she got off easy compared to what some of us other women have had to endure.  While my treatment has been about as aggressive and comprehensive as it could possibly be, I can relate to her, because just about every day I think "this could have been so much worse".  I don't want to jinx myself because I know I will look over my shoulder for the rest of my life, but no matter what this stupid cancer has thrown at me, I've managed to get through it with more than a little help from my friends (and family).

Another of my online groups, my January surgery sisters, are always posting about silver linings.  Going through all of this, dealing with cancer and losing body parts and residual effects from chemo....you find you have a lot to complain about.  But I wanted to write this post because no matter how bad things get (and with cancer it can get pretty bad), there are always silver linings.  Sometimes you have to dig deep to find them, and sometimes they are shining brightly right in front of you, but they are always there.

If there's one lesson I want to take away from kicking cancer's ass, it's to always, always look for the silver lining.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1337

Last night I was pulled over on the way home from the softball fields.... first time in many, many years.  In fact, I haven't been pulled over since I moved to Texas sixteen years ago.  I was speeding (of course), but in my defense, I thought the speed limit was 60mph.  He clocked me at 63... still speeding, but wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't a 55mph zone. Oops.  

Luckily he was very nice and let me off with a warning and asked me to keep my speed down.  Props to the Taylor County sheriff's deputy who was just looking out for safety instead of looking to give someone a hard time.

On another note.... Three years ago today was Relay for Life.  What an amazing, exhausting, emotional, powerful night!  My son walked a lap in high heels ("walk a mile in her shoes"); my hubby walked solo in the wee hours of the morning so our team always had someone walking;  I raised way more than my goal amount thanks to generous donations;  my team was one of the very few who stayed (and walked) all night long.   

Go Team Michelle!

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1332

One thing I have never been good at is not sweating the small stuff.  I take everything to heart, and I wear that heart on my sleeve.  So letting things roll off my back doesn't happen easily, even if it is something I shouldn't worry about.  

There is a lot of good in my life.  I am a cancer survivor.  My mom is a cancer survivor.  My husband and children are happy and healthy.  My dad is doing much better.  My brother is busy with a new job and a new wife.  I have a few good friends who know the heart of who I am and love me for it, and I have a bunch of good people I'm friendly with.  I miss my friends who no longer live here, but thanks to technology I am able to interact with them on a daily basis.  

I have friends who will drive an hour to watch my daughter play softball and bring my husband cupcakes.  

I have friends who randomly send me two pounds of gummy bears.

I have friends who make me laugh even when they are going through one of the roughest times of their lives.  

In the grand scheme of things, a lot of what stresses me out won't matter next week, next month, next year.  People have problems, people get upset, people complain.  It's human nature.  The fact that I can't fix everything or make everyone happy doesn't discount the myriad of ways I do fix things to make people happy.  Sometimes I forget that.

I'm a giver.  I care about people, and I care about what people think of me.  But I'm tired of worrying about who is with me/us and who isn't.  I'm tired of people saying one thing and doing another.  I'm tired of always being the stepping stone for something they think is better. I've learned the hard way that for the most part everyone is in it for themselves.  Society as a whole is more self-centered than ever before.  My experiences over the last few years have made me lose faith in so many people that I care about.  

But you know what?  One thing I've always taught my children is to treat others how they would like to be treated.  I choose honesty.  I choose loyalty.  I choose friendship.  I choose kindness.  

Nobody promised that life would be easy.  But life is precious, and it's worth it.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1331

I really needed to read that today.  It seems like there is so much sadness and drama happening right now.  While it isn't anything directly involving me, it is surrounding me and the darkness is threatening to pull me under.  

I'm praying for strength and healing for my bestie who is struggling through chemo.  I'm sending healing vibes to an associate who is dealing with his own serious medical issues.  I wish for calm to settle over a friend who is drowning in everyday life, trying to do it all herself.  I'm lending an ear to my Hubby who takes so much on his shoulders without complaint.  I'm praying for the local family who will bury their fourteen year old daughter tomorrow.  My son will perform "It Is Well" with the high school band at her funeral.  

I just want some good news.  I want life to be sunshine and roses, at least for a little while.  I'm praying for strength for those who need it right now, and I'm praying for a little bit of peace for myself. 

Amen.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1325

Because why not, right?  

I think I'm going to print that picture out and tape it on my mirror, because there are days when it's really difficult to focus on being awesome.  Fighting cancer is hard.  Diagnosis, treatment, surgeries... they all suck.  Surviving cancer is also hard. You'd like to think it's all "life is such a blessing" but it's not that easy.  Sometimes I look around at my fellow survivors, my friends, and I wonder how they are kicking ass at life and I'm not.  They are happy and energetic and getting fit and don't seem to worry every minute of every day about their health.  They aren't wallowing in the effects of cancer treatment or filled with fear of an unknown future.

Sometimes it seems like I am the only one who struggles this much.  I'm tired.  Like, really tired.   I have trouble sleeping at night, which means I'm exhausted all day.  There is no such thing as a "cat nap" for me anymore.  If I take a nap, I might as well put on my pjs and climb into bed, because it's LIGHTS OUT for hours, and it's so hard to wake up.  I have to set two different alarms on my phone because one doesn't wake me up in the morning.

My self-esteem is non-existent.  Even though I'm getting close to my 10,000 steps every day, I can't seem to find the time, energy or motivation to work out.  I hate to say it, but my exercise bike has become the cliche clothes rack.  I've never before weighed as much as I do now.  It's depressing.  I hate the way I look, I hate the way I feel, I hate the way my clothes fit (or don't fit... ha ha).  But it seems like no matter how much or how little I eat, no matter how active I am, the scale just keeps creeping up.  Thank you, cancer, and thank you, menopause, and thank you, Tamoxifen.  

I feel really guilty complaining about any of this, because you know what?  It could be worse.  

For my BFF, it is worse.  Yesterday she had her 2nd chemo treatment after her doctor switched her from oral chemo to the more powerful IV infusions.  This is her THIRD go-round with cancer.  In September she had clean scans.  Now her breast cancer has come back, with a vengeance, despite having surgery, chemo and radiation 5 years ago. 

F*** you, cancer.  

This disease has touched a lot of people in my life, but this one hurts the most.  It's a serious battle for her, and I'm so afraid.  She may not have been born my sister, but she's the sister of my heart, and I can't imagine my world without her in it.

We all weather storms differently.  Some people fight their battle and walk away like a boss.  Some people get pulled under by it and struggle to find their way out.  I think maybe I'm somewhere in the middle.  I don't feel like I've mastered this cancer survivorship thing yet..... but I'm working on it.  One day I'd like to thumb my nose at cancer, turn away and never look back.  One day I'd like to live without fear.  One day I'd like to know that this sneaky, mean, treacherous beast of a disease will not hurt me or anyone I love ever again.  

Both of my grandmothers had cancer and died when I was young.  I don't have any memories of them.

My mother-in-law passed away from breast cancer in 2010.  My kids won't have many memories of her. 

My dear friend passed away from ovarian cancer in 2014.  

My BFF's mom passed away right after Christmas after her breast cancer returned.

My BFF had cervical cancer and is now fighting breast cancer for the 2nd time.

My sister-in-law had breast cancer.

In 2013, I was diagnosed with Stage III, BRCA 2+ breast cancer.  The exact same diagnosis as my BFF.

In 2014 my mom was diagnosed with colon cancer.

That's a lot of damn storms people I know have had to fight.  Most days I enjoy my life.  I work and shop and go out to eat.  I nag my kids and husband, laugh with my friends and cheer my daughter's softball team on.  I'm living a typical suburban mom life and I'm lucky to be living it with a man who loves me and two kids who light up my world.  

But tonight I'm just angry.  I thought maybe getting my thoughts out would help, but instead of being cathartic, it's just pissing me off more.  

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1299

My thoughts are heavy, my soul is weary.  I am afraid, but I will not be silent.  I found these pictures and felt like they were urging me to "keep speaking".... as in, get everything out of my head and put my feelings into words.

So.... since it's 1:04am, I guess this is another Insomniac Blogging entry.

Before I begin - a disclaimer:  If you've seen some of my posts on Facebook lately, I want you to know that I am fine.  There's a lot of crap happening, but not to me.  Hubby, the kids, the parents... they are all fine.

But...

I'll start with the bad news.  (And no, there isn't good news.  Just bad, worse and the absolute worst.) 😟  Someone that my family knows recently committed suicide.  This person was only fifteen years old.  Same age as my son.  My heart aches for the family, and for the fact that a young person with their whole life ahead of them felt like there was no hope and their only option was to give up.  Since we knew this person, and will still see their family, that is a conversation I will have to have with my children.  I am NOT looking forward to it.

The worse news?  Hubby's longtime friend is ill.  Seriously ill.  Dangerously ill.  He was taken by helicopter to Dallas for a heart transplant, but a whole host of other medical issues are going to prevent that.  His daughter and son are emotionally worn out and physically exhausted.  Hubby's friend is scared and confused, and facing an uncertain future.  It's a bad situation all the way around.  We've known this family for a long, long time.  It hurts to see them going through this and knowing there's nothing we can do except pray for them.

And now for the very worst.  Someone close to me, someone who had breast cancer before, is once again facing the beast.  And if you know anything at all about cancer, you know that if it comes back, it's almost always worse.  It is worse this time.  I wish I could hit something or cry or scream or SOMEthing.  But honestly I'm just numb.  I can't wrap my brain around the news.

I was asked tonight if I have survivor's guilt.  I've never really felt that way before.
I think I do now.
There are several women in my breast cancer support group (who were sick the same time I was) who have been diagnosed again since then.  They have faced more surgeries, more chemo, and have gone through the terrible physical and emotional toll all over again.  One lovely lady didn't survive more than a few months the second time.  But I don't think I've ever really thought "why them and not me?"  I've tried to lend moral support, wisdom, love and strength, and I've prayed for healing for all of my friends.  But this latest news has crushed me.  I'm absolutely devastated that this amazing person who means so much to me is going through this.  And I'm so scared.  So scared for her, and (selfishly) so scared for me, because now I am asking "why her and not me?".  

They say bad things happen in threes..... and I hope that's true.  Because after three instances of really bad news in one week, my heart can't take any more.  

I'm doing my best to have faith in God.  I know He can perform miracles.  I know He has a plan.  I know He loves us and is in control.  (All wise words of my hero Allyson Hendrickson, by the way.)  

I just hope he will answer my prayers.

I pray for A's family as they deal with the unexpected loss of such a remarkable young person.

I pray for D and his family as they work to get him stronger so his health will improve.

Most of all, I pray for my friend.  I pray for healing.  I pray for a medical team to have compassion and knowledge and to find any medical advances in cancer treatment that may help her beat the odds.  I pray for her emotional well being and I pray for her body's ability to endure chemotherapy again.  I pray for her family and everyone who loves her.  

I pray for miracles.  

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1293

My husband is not a complainer.  He has been going through a bit of a rough patch lately.   He has constant neck and shoulder (nerve) pain as he heals from his surgery three months ago.  Kind of disheartening to know that it can take many more months to heal, if it ever does.  There are also some things going on at work that are adding to his stress.  Being your own boss is terrific, but the responsibility of owning a business is a heavy burden sometimes.

His brother is having some health issues that landed him in the hospital a couple of weeks ago.   One of his dearest longtime friends is also having health issues, and he had to be flight-lifted to Dallas where he is awaiting a heart transplant.  This friend's daughter has been keeping us updated on her dad's condition, and she had asked the other day if Hubby would come by, thinking a visit from his buddy would lift her dad's spirits.  Seeing someone you care about and have known for decades in ICU, hooked up to machines, swollen from kidney failure and crazy from meds, is not what anyone would describe as fun.  When I asked if he was going to go, he gave me two words:  Of course.

Did you just hear my heart flutter?  When someone he loves needs something, he does it - no questions asked.  All of this is weighing him down, day by day.
He doesn't say it, but knowing him, I see it.

I'd like to ask God to give Hubby a break.  I can do all that I can to make his life easier, happier, better..... but there are some things out of my control, and it would be tremendous if some of Hubby's burdens could be lifted.

I'd also like to ask God to lift up my BFF.  Next week will be major scanxiety for her as she undergoes numerous tests and waits for results to make sure nothing scary is going on with her.  I'm sending lots of prayers, as well as strength and healing thoughts, that this next week goes fast and ends with good news.  I'm also sending a check for my Girl Scout cookies, I promise!

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1292

So.... it's 12:35am.  Do you know where your children are?

Don't worry, this is not going to be another insomniac "I can't sleep" whiny blog post.
(But for the record, I do have insomnia and I can't sleep)

You know what?  I miss my blog.  I HATE the reason for having 1290 days of Kicking Cancer's Ass posts, but I love that I have had this diary....like my own little captive audience, for so long.  Every once in a while, kind of like Facebook's "On This Day" memory pop up, I will go back and read a random post that I'd written.  You know what?  Sometimes I'm freaking brilliant.  I impress myself and think, "Did I really write that?"

Some of it, especially from the beginning, is very difficult to read.  Those were dark, dark days of fear and exhaustion, emotions and sickness.  Some of it is inspiring, like maybe my words and my experiences can help someone who finds themselves in my shoes.  Some of it is funny, some of it is an obnoxious rant against the injustices of my society..... but all of it is heartfelt.  All of it is me.

It makes me sad to go back and see that I went from daily posts in 2013 and 2014, to about half that number last year.  Now I sometimes go weeks without taking the time to open my heart and mind here, and I need to fix that.  It makes me realize that I don't give me enough of my time.  I know there are women who live much, much busier lives than mine:  women with full time jobs, women with demanding careers, women who volunteer everywhere, women with half a dozen kids.  I'm just a wife and mom, working a part-time job, with two kids who are involved in a respectably low number of activities, who volunteers with only one organization.  And yet I seem to have zero time for anything.  Well, I have a little more time now that Hubby and I finished binge-watching all seven seasons of Sons of Anarchy.  But still...

I have a teenager in high school who is learning to drive, who plays the trombone and whose hobby is model railroading.  The first and the last both take up much of Hubby's free (non-softball) time (I may be a better driver but he's a better driving teacher!  And he has more patience for model trains.)  I have a middle school girl who has a more active social life than I ever had, and whose extracurricular activity (softball) takes up most of her and all of my free time.  (Hubby's an excellent coach, but I'm better at handling all of the off-the-field behind-the-scenes things that it takes to run a softball league and keep K's softball team organized.)  When I'm not playing taxi or working on my computer, I try to indulge in my renewed love of reading.

The point I'm trying to make is that it's so easy to take yourself for granted.  Am I the best mother in the world?  Nope.  Am I the best wife in the world?  Not even close.  Am I the best friend in the world?  I wish, but not always.  But that doesn't mean I shouldn't keep trying, daily, to be the best ME there is.  And part of that is to focus on myself.  I don't know.... I guess I look at my blog posts as a way of telling myself "this is important", that my thoughts and feelings are worthy of being expressed, and read, even if only by me.

To acquire wisdom is to love oneself; people who cherish understanding will prosper.

Proverbs 19:8 

I'm only 44 years old.  I hope I still have decades left of life to live, and I don't want to get so caught up in everyday life that I forget to make every day matter.  There are things that happen, things that get said, things that I do - little things, big things, it doesn't matter - that are worth sharing, so that I can go back in a month or a year, and read about them.  Like the post from two years ago where I wrote this:

When I woke K up this morning to get ready for our road trip, she smiled and said she was mad at me because I woke her up from a good dream.  When I asked her what she was dreaming about, she said, "I was just about to buy a unicorn."
That's my girl.

We should all be able to dream about buying a unicorn.

I love those last two words:  Stay strong.  It's not saying everything has to be perfect.  Life will never be perfect, but through it all, you can stay strong.  It's easy to zone in on what's going wrong, because sometimes something going wrong can feel majorly wrong.  My blog is the perfect example.  I started it back in 2011..... way before I knew I had cancer.  And yet it took a cancer diagnosis for me to start writing regularly.  Why?  Because I had a lot of things going wrong to talk about.  But interspersed with the things going wrong posts are the other posts.... ones about feeling happy, or grateful, or amused, or blessed.  Posts about feeling grateful to be alive.

I have a lot of reasons to smile, and I have some very special people in my life who make me laugh.

Lucky, lucky me.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1273

Survivor's Guilt.

Survivor guilt is a mental condition that occurs when a person perceives themselves to have done wrong by surviving a traumatic event when others did not.

We all know the statistics.  One in eight women will get breast cancer in their lifetime.  My best friend, my best friend's mom, my sister-in-law, my mother-in-law, me..... that's more than one in eight for me.  Scary, huh?  My mother-in-law and my BFF's mom have both passed away.  My BFF, my sis-in-law, me?  We're all doing good.  Alive and well.  What's the difference?  How does fate decide who gets a pass?  

You're probably thinking age is a factor.  And maybe you're partly right.  Someone in their 60s or 70s is not going to be as strong or as healthy as someone half their age, so maybe their body can't fight cancer as well.  But you know what?  Cancer doesn't always discriminate.  Or only pick on the old, frail and weak.

For three years I've belonged to a support group for breast cancer survivors - Ciao Bellas.  My lovely friend D invited me when I was just starting my journey, and I'm forever grateful for the support I've received from these wonderful ladies.  My lovely Bellas were dealt a tough hand this week.  We lost not one but two of our friends.  Lorie was 42 years old.  Vanessa was only 32.  

I never got the chance to meet either of them in person, but I got to know them through other women who did.  Every Bella has been in the same trenches at one time or another.  Some are thriving years after diagnosis.  Some are just beginning their fight.  We all have the same goal - to live.  To know that not one but two young ladies, younger than me, were taken way too soon by the same disease I'm surviving is a big blow.  

I know people die from cancer every day.  It's why the words "you have cancer" are so terrifying.  It may not be the automatic death sentence it used to be, but it can be.  For Lorie, and for Vanessa, it was.  My heart aches for their families... for the people who loved these women.  Vanessa has an eight year old little girl.  Can you imagine?  I look at my daughter, just two years older than that, and my heart freezes in fear.  

I don't think I necessarily have survivor guilt.  It's not a contest.  We are all in it to win.  Nobody loses when someone wins the fight against cancer (except cancer!).  But I won't lie and say I don't ask "why her and not me" when something like this happens.  It could very easily be me.  I know many, many breast cancer survivors.  That is amazing.  And wonderful.  But the fact that there are people connected to me who did not survive is a crushing blow.  And it reignites the fear that is always lurking.

The best way I know to pay tribute to the amazing women who were taken too soon is to embrace my survivorship.  Cherish every day.  Count my blessings.  Take care of myself.  Appreciate life.  Know that each day is a gift. 

And pray for the ones who loved those we've lost.

To Lorie, and to Vanessa.....God bless you, Bellas.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1267

For the past 17 years, this man has been my friend, my shoulder to cry on, my partner in crime, my rock, my love.

My Valentine.

Happy  Valentine's Day.  I love you forever.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1266

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day - the day to celebrate love.

I have more reasons than most to celebrate.  Did you know when you Google "breast cancer and marriage", some of the first pages that come up are titled "First comes breast cancer, then comes divorce"?  That's sad. There are a lot of life-changing events that take a toll on marriage:  children, jobs, moving, death, and yes - cancer.

My greatest hope is that every woman facing this dark journey has an amazing support system.  That could be mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, children or friends.  For me, it was all of those (well, except the sister part), which makes me a lucky lady.  I'm even more lucky that I've been surrounded by, covered with and lifted up by the love of an amazing man.

There is nothing easy or fun about breast cancer.  Bottom line - a cancer diagnosis means you are in a fight for your life.  Even now, three and a half years later, I'm still fighting.  Even though treatments and surgeries are in my rearview mirror (and hopefully will stay there!), I'm still fighting through it.  Chemo, radiation, hormone therapy, more surgeries than you can count on one hand...it all takes a toll.   

The best medicine in the world, for me, is having a husband who doesn't bat an eye at any of it.  I know this hasn't been easy for him.  But through 1264 days of living with a breast cancer diagnosis, he has always made it all about me.  Even though his burden has been just as heavy, he has never once let me feel it.  He has shouldered all of my troubles as well as his own, without complaint, since d-day.

Fifteen and a half years ago, Hubby said those vows to me.  Back then I was young and healthy.  I was the one who teased him about getting older and having to take all kinds of medicine.  Little did we know that a bride ten years his junior would get breast cancer at age 40.  Suddenly HE was the healthy one having to take care of me.  My part of the medicine cabinet rivals his now.  We have an ongoing argument about which one of us is more exhausted, or who is in more pain.  It's a weird bonding thing I guess..... but you know what?  On this, the eve of our 17th Valentine's Day together, after everything we've been through as husband and wife, I'm blessed that we still have the bond that we do.

Having cancer changes a person.  I'm not the same as I was before August 1, 2013.  I hate that for me.  I'm older and wiser, but not so sweet or innocent.  My body is different... and scarred.  I've had to find a strength I didn't think I had.  I've had to find a way to live with fear.  I've had to find a way to love the new me.   Loving someone with cancer changes a person.   I'm not the same person Hubby fell in love with.  I hate that for him.  He didn't ask for this, he didn't sign on for this, and he doesn't deserve it.  But he has never once let on that he feels that way.  He continues to love me better than anyone - day by day, month by month, year by year.  

I am blessed.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1258

Some random insomniac blogging tidbits....

I don't need a special day to talk about cancer.... I do that every day!  ha ha
But today, February 4, is World Cancer Day.  (www.worldcancerday.org/)

From that web site:

A truly global event taking place every year on 4 February, World Cancer Day unites the world’s population in the fight against cancer.
It aims to save millions of preventable deaths each year by raising awareness and education about the disease, pressing governments and individuals across the world to take action. 

I realize I should have posted about this BEFORE the end of the day, but better late than never.  In my opinion, anything, anything at all these days, that includes uniting the world's population AND a fight against cancer is a spectacular idea.

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I had a long, busy day today.  I was wiped out when I got home at 7:30pm.  WIPED OUT.
It is now 11:42pm.  Wiped out is gone and wide awake took its place.  Sigh.

According to my Fitbit, my sleep average was 4.35 hours/night this week.  Pathetic.  I like sleep.  No, I love sleep! It's not that I don't want to sleep, or I'm too sick, stressed, depressed or anxious to sleep.  I just can't.  I go to bed and I'm wide awake.   I wake up a lot during the night, and not just the toss and turn kind of waking.  I'm talking about get out of bed to go to the bathroom, or go to the kitchen to get a drink and make a detour to check email/facebook/weather kind of waking.  

My friend S says I'm like a baby whose internal clock is backwards.  That's exactly it.  I have my days and nights mixed up.  

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K had a friend spend the night last night.  Her friend's name is the same as K's.  Their last names both start with a B.  It's a little confusing.  And a little amusing to have to use your child's last name in your own house.  They were in the same preschool class years ago.  Now they are in the same fifth grade class.  K's friend K is a sweet, easygoing girl.  I'm pleased as punch.
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Tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday.  Not only are my Cowboys not in the big game (despite getting my hopes up by kicking ass all season), but the Patriots are in the big game.  Again.  Tom Brady is cute and all, but good God, can't they just go away?

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I have another friend S who never fails to make me smile.  She sent me a FIVE POUND BAG of gummy bears for my birthday.  And not only does she indulge my obsession, but she shares it.  Haribo fans unite!

I miss her every single day.  She was my bring me food when I'm sick friend.  My walking buddy friend.  My help me out at the softball fields at 2am during a tournament friend.  My come over just to hang out and talk friend.  Then she moved.  Far away.  So now she's my late night texting conversations friend.  And my Vegas roommate friend.  I'm very grateful for modern technology that allows me to keep in touch - frequently at all hours - with friends like S.  But man, life is NOT the same without her here.
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Monday my son starts driver's ed.  Say WHAT?  I knew I had a teenager, but driver's ed??  That's for, like, people that can drive!  When did I get old enough to have a kid that drives?  I guess the whole high school thing didn't really sink in yet.

Thanks for keeping me company.  If you see him, send the sandman my way.

Kicking cancer's ass - day 1255

What does my birthday February 2, 1973 mean?
Your birthday numbers 2, 2 and 1973 reveal that your Life Path number is 6. It represents justice, nurturing and responsibility. You possess great compassion and seek to be of service to others.

What else?
This.... all of this.

The realest one you will ever meet....How cool is that?

Even in this day and age of incredible medical advancements and unbelievable technology, I doubt there is a person alive who has heard the words "you have cancer" and didn't immediately think, for one fleeting moment, that they were going to die.  I knew I had cancer the minute I felt the lump.  And I knew it was going to be bad.  It wasn't easy, and it's still an every day fight, and will be for the rest of my life... but I did survive, and I earned the right to wear a crown.  A pink, sparkly one.

"Birthdays have become a symbol. They epitomize opportunity, growth, and life. They represent hope, gratitude, and blessings. Each morning I wake up to see another day… to create new memories… to enjoy my friends and family… to follow my passions… I am blessed. "

(from the blog:  Derailing my Diagnosis)

My good friend K, another cancer survivor, calls our post-diagnosis birthdays "Bonus Birthdays."  When I turned 40, I felt great.  I was in terrific shape, I was busy and happy and in love with life.  When I turned 41, I felt awful.  I was bald, pale, weak, and a month post-op from having my breasts removed.  When I turned 42, I was extremely anemic thanks to treatment and having undergone seven surgeries in less than two years, to the point where I had to revisit the chemo room for iron infusions.  Talk about flashbacks.

Now.... I am 44.  I am busy with work and home, a husband and kids.  I do laundry and pay bills, cook dinner and text my friends.  I finally enjoy reading again and hope to get back out on the golf course this year.  I am a part-time bookkeeper, a full time wife, a proud band parent, my daughter's biggest fan, and an overworked yet underpaid softball league VP.

Celebrating another year of this crazy busy life, for me, is definitely a bonus.  And what's a bonus birthday without cake?  There are so many pretty ones that I would love to appreciate for a second and then dive right in.  But I think this one might just be my favorite:

It's simple.  It's small (so I don't have to share).  It quietly sends a statement in its own beautiful, understated way.  It's truly deserving of a bonus birthday celebration.  I want to savor it.

And while I'm enjoying that pretty little cake, remember this:

Damn straight.