Nothing is better in the whole wide world, than all the love that has been directed to and for me this past year. I am in bed right now with Keiko, dreaming and planning a surf trip just for us girls. It is a wonderful thing to start planning something. To be able to get out of the present moment, and know that I am going to be healthy enough to do a trip. I feel confident that it is just scar tissue, since Dr. Clarfeld said so, and since the MRI and tumor markers are low!
Keiko and I were quite surprised at how quickly my body bounced back from this surgery. Keiko kept saying to me, and not until the third time did it sink in..but she said," Heath, your body is so much healthier now. Look, you bounced back so quickly." I was sleepy, but not like the prior surgeries. I was not sick at all, and had a really nice night. I turned off my phone, and let her talk to everyone for me. I sure have learned how to take care of myself, and to allow people to take care of me. Thank you cancer for that one! The old Heather was always doing and thinking, and doing some more for everyone else.
Off to eat a yummy raw breakfast of Chia seeds, and raspberries!
Welcome to THE CLUB YOU CAN'T BELONG TO
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
POst op
I am good. Dr. Clarfeld said, "It looks Like Scar Tissue" as he leaned over and gave me a hug. Aaahhhhh...I am a lucky girl. Whose surgeon KICKS ASS, and is so full of integrity and love for is career. Blessed.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Thoughts for Today
I managed to fill pretty much every waking hour doing a massage today. Giving a total of 5, so that’s good. Driving to the island this morning, I just started crying and I cried all the way across the Sound, onto the island, and then all the way to my clients house to Maury Island.
Crying because I thought about how easy it is for anyone other than a Survivor to tell me that I should, and usually with a capitol SHOULD do chemo again. Its easy for a non-Survivor to say YOU CAN DO IT. When noone in my life, not a single person was with me for all the hell. The depth of despair, the fearful nights alone, the endless egg and toast, the endless doctor visits, each and every single radiation appointment I had to endure. I did just say, RADIATION. For some reason going through this whole thing, numbed me. And maybe, even has numbed you as a reader since you’ve been following me on this journey for over a year now.
So, I wrote someone close to me a letter today. And told that person, to not tell me that I should or shouldn’t do anything anymore. If that person really wants to be there for me, then be there. Allow me, the Survivor, the one who has to be alone during this hellish fight for my life, the respect to support my decision. To respect my choices. And to not judge me, when I say I am exhausted, and if this is cancer, #1 and #3 are still only looking good to me.
I am scared. I was good for a few days. But then I felt the lump again, and its hard, and it freaks me out. My friend Keiko is flying in tomorrow morning to be with me, and I just can’t wait to snuggle in bed and watch movies. I am really sad.
Last night I found out that a dear massage client of mine, was diagnosed with Breast Fucking Cancer. I was numb as I spoke with her. I was in soldier mode. I heard her soldier, I heard her questions, I heard her beginning the digging deep, I heard that she is still reeling, I heard me coming out of my shock induced comma to finally extend a true and honest and brave hand to her. Its time to get over this hurdle, and to join up with my beloved sisters and brothers in Cancer and start supporting the newly diagnosed and telling them what no other can do. I can look them in the eye, and tell her, that she will, (I know you are reading this dear J) but you will get through this. You can and you will. This time is for and only about you. Dig deep. Its gonna be a hellish ride, but you my love, will make it through.
Update:
Surgery tomorrow. Results next week.
Crying because I thought about how easy it is for anyone other than a Survivor to tell me that I should, and usually with a capitol SHOULD do chemo again. Its easy for a non-Survivor to say YOU CAN DO IT. When noone in my life, not a single person was with me for all the hell. The depth of despair, the fearful nights alone, the endless egg and toast, the endless doctor visits, each and every single radiation appointment I had to endure. I did just say, RADIATION. For some reason going through this whole thing, numbed me. And maybe, even has numbed you as a reader since you’ve been following me on this journey for over a year now.
So, I wrote someone close to me a letter today. And told that person, to not tell me that I should or shouldn’t do anything anymore. If that person really wants to be there for me, then be there. Allow me, the Survivor, the one who has to be alone during this hellish fight for my life, the respect to support my decision. To respect my choices. And to not judge me, when I say I am exhausted, and if this is cancer, #1 and #3 are still only looking good to me.
I am scared. I was good for a few days. But then I felt the lump again, and its hard, and it freaks me out. My friend Keiko is flying in tomorrow morning to be with me, and I just can’t wait to snuggle in bed and watch movies. I am really sad.
Last night I found out that a dear massage client of mine, was diagnosed with Breast Fucking Cancer. I was numb as I spoke with her. I was in soldier mode. I heard her soldier, I heard her questions, I heard her beginning the digging deep, I heard that she is still reeling, I heard me coming out of my shock induced comma to finally extend a true and honest and brave hand to her. Its time to get over this hurdle, and to join up with my beloved sisters and brothers in Cancer and start supporting the newly diagnosed and telling them what no other can do. I can look them in the eye, and tell her, that she will, (I know you are reading this dear J) but you will get through this. You can and you will. This time is for and only about you. Dig deep. Its gonna be a hellish ride, but you my love, will make it through.
Update:
Surgery tomorrow. Results next week.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Tools of the Trade
Okay, everything is going to be fine..I'll just blurt that out first because I know you all are wondering. And then I can explain. haha!
As I was driving to my appointment today Tamara said, "What were your tumor markers?" Well...I'd been putting off finding them out because at the end of the day, finding out before I got the surgery was going to either bring a HUGE smile to my face or freak me out even more. I was with T, so I called and found out the very awesome news that they were the lowest they've been since this whole ordeal started, a whopping 11.5. Just to give you an idea I was a 28 at diagnosis. And doc's don't really look at anything over 30 something when doing these counts, but would notice if mine were going up and up, closer to the 28 numba. But mine, are low right now, and that makes me super super super happy. Inside. Somewhere. The little hippie girl, the little girl that likes to jump rope and sing songs, the little girl in me that likes to hide behind a corner and jump out and scare my sister, that girl...was jumping up and down today when I heard that news.
But the athlete in me, the soldier in me, well she said to that happy girl, "chill out. its just a tool. A tool that can have false positives."
So...I became both girls grinning and saying to Tamara, "Its good, its good, but I can't get too excited." Just like Clarfeld, the Rock Star surgeon said to me today. These are all tools. The tumor marker test, the MRI, the yadda yadda....this and that. I get to be monitored with all these great technological tools and then, its my job to notice a change. Which I did. Which I noticed and that is why I am set for surgery for this friday. My friend Maryam is bringing me, and my friend Keiko is flying in and will be with me when I wake up. I really want my sis to be there, but that all changed when I found out I will not be getting the test results until Wed, possibly Tuesday. No need for her to be there, until then. And really, if it is cancer, which I doubt highly in this moment, then...she'll come....with NOLAN!!!!!!! How is it that I love my nephew more than her? Like he is this extension of her that is my most favoritest thing in the entire world and galaxy. Smile..smile..
I cancelled my appointments tonight, and am reflecting on this mile stone. I am learning how to be a survivor. This is huge. I am proud of myself, I say laughing full of a few measly sips of Rose, and am already giggling drunk. I am happy in this moment, I am full in this moment, I have so many friends that I love so incredibly deeply, and I am excited that this is one of those stones that I get to plant in the ground and look back someday in the near future and say to myself, "Wow! That was super scary, and look at how I dealt with that. Look at all the friends that lifted you up in your time of despair." I also cannot wait to be whole again, and turn and give all this energy, all this spastic love for life that I have with all my Survivor wisdom and give it to the newly diagnosed ones, and hold them in their despair and look them boldly in the eye, and say, " You my Love, will get through this."
I am victorious in spirit, bold in my moment, and blissed out in love.
As I was driving to my appointment today Tamara said, "What were your tumor markers?" Well...I'd been putting off finding them out because at the end of the day, finding out before I got the surgery was going to either bring a HUGE smile to my face or freak me out even more. I was with T, so I called and found out the very awesome news that they were the lowest they've been since this whole ordeal started, a whopping 11.5. Just to give you an idea I was a 28 at diagnosis. And doc's don't really look at anything over 30 something when doing these counts, but would notice if mine were going up and up, closer to the 28 numba. But mine, are low right now, and that makes me super super super happy. Inside. Somewhere. The little hippie girl, the little girl that likes to jump rope and sing songs, the little girl in me that likes to hide behind a corner and jump out and scare my sister, that girl...was jumping up and down today when I heard that news.
But the athlete in me, the soldier in me, well she said to that happy girl, "chill out. its just a tool. A tool that can have false positives."
So...I became both girls grinning and saying to Tamara, "Its good, its good, but I can't get too excited." Just like Clarfeld, the Rock Star surgeon said to me today. These are all tools. The tumor marker test, the MRI, the yadda yadda....this and that. I get to be monitored with all these great technological tools and then, its my job to notice a change. Which I did. Which I noticed and that is why I am set for surgery for this friday. My friend Maryam is bringing me, and my friend Keiko is flying in and will be with me when I wake up. I really want my sis to be there, but that all changed when I found out I will not be getting the test results until Wed, possibly Tuesday. No need for her to be there, until then. And really, if it is cancer, which I doubt highly in this moment, then...she'll come....with NOLAN!!!!!!! How is it that I love my nephew more than her? Like he is this extension of her that is my most favoritest thing in the entire world and galaxy. Smile..smile..
I cancelled my appointments tonight, and am reflecting on this mile stone. I am learning how to be a survivor. This is huge. I am proud of myself, I say laughing full of a few measly sips of Rose, and am already giggling drunk. I am happy in this moment, I am full in this moment, I have so many friends that I love so incredibly deeply, and I am excited that this is one of those stones that I get to plant in the ground and look back someday in the near future and say to myself, "Wow! That was super scary, and look at how I dealt with that. Look at all the friends that lifted you up in your time of despair." I also cannot wait to be whole again, and turn and give all this energy, all this spastic love for life that I have with all my Survivor wisdom and give it to the newly diagnosed ones, and hold them in their despair and look them boldly in the eye, and say, " You my Love, will get through this."
I am victorious in spirit, bold in my moment, and blissed out in love.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The blank space
My mind is kind of filled with nothingness the past few days. Kind of just not sure what to do, what to think, how much to plan for, how little to plan for, so I just don't. Tomorrow, is the end or the beginning.
As I see it, its 1%. But I was that 1% once already. And it got me, that time. Its easy for people to say not to worry, but really, what is there to worry about. In the end. Its death anyways. That day that it is.
I have three options.
1. Its not cancer, and I get to go on living my little survivor life.
2. It is cancer, and I do treatment
3. It is cancer, and I do not do treatment.
I am heavily leaning to day for #1, or #3.
Mainly because I've already hit it as hard as I can the first time, I couldn't even finish all the chemo's. K, said, "you are done," So done I was. I much rather live my life as healthy and happy and feeling good with the occasional flu/cold then be sick as death again. No thank you. Once was enough.
So, I am leaning for those two. The shock that I was diagnosed with it in the first place takes away my positive thought ability, and leads me into the, WTF reality of possibility. (for those of you older folks that are not down with the WTF, it means what the fuck).
Okay. I didn't write about this little lump at all on here for a long while, I didn't talk to anybody about it for a long while, and now its out. I needed to be real about it. Kindof like the first time. I found it. Sat with it for a while. Then oh so casually mentioned it, to He who will not be named. This time, it started out not feeling like it did the first time. But months later, like 4 months later, it feels like that again.
Okay, enough talking about it. I'll know soon enough.
I am going to take a whole sleeping pill tonight. Not a half.
You know, if it is cancer, I had an incredible summer. I really did. I think, if I do have surgery to remove it, I'll wake up in that groggy place and my surgeon will say, cancer or no, and if it is cancer, I'll immediately ask for (I should ask prior to surgery for this to happen) but if it is, then I am just going to ask to be knocked out on drugs for a week. I need to. My brain will need to. And then, I can look at my two options. Sick and see how long I live, or Live as long as I can as long as I can...Mmmm..kindof sounds like a no brainer to me.
On a happier note, I get to see my nephew in a few weeks, and I am really excited for that.
As I see it, its 1%. But I was that 1% once already. And it got me, that time. Its easy for people to say not to worry, but really, what is there to worry about. In the end. Its death anyways. That day that it is.
I have three options.
1. Its not cancer, and I get to go on living my little survivor life.
2. It is cancer, and I do treatment
3. It is cancer, and I do not do treatment.
I am heavily leaning to day for #1, or #3.
Mainly because I've already hit it as hard as I can the first time, I couldn't even finish all the chemo's. K, said, "you are done," So done I was. I much rather live my life as healthy and happy and feeling good with the occasional flu/cold then be sick as death again. No thank you. Once was enough.
So, I am leaning for those two. The shock that I was diagnosed with it in the first place takes away my positive thought ability, and leads me into the, WTF reality of possibility. (for those of you older folks that are not down with the WTF, it means what the fuck).
Okay. I didn't write about this little lump at all on here for a long while, I didn't talk to anybody about it for a long while, and now its out. I needed to be real about it. Kindof like the first time. I found it. Sat with it for a while. Then oh so casually mentioned it, to He who will not be named. This time, it started out not feeling like it did the first time. But months later, like 4 months later, it feels like that again.
Okay, enough talking about it. I'll know soon enough.
I am going to take a whole sleeping pill tonight. Not a half.
You know, if it is cancer, I had an incredible summer. I really did. I think, if I do have surgery to remove it, I'll wake up in that groggy place and my surgeon will say, cancer or no, and if it is cancer, I'll immediately ask for (I should ask prior to surgery for this to happen) but if it is, then I am just going to ask to be knocked out on drugs for a week. I need to. My brain will need to. And then, I can look at my two options. Sick and see how long I live, or Live as long as I can as long as I can...Mmmm..kindof sounds like a no brainer to me.
On a happier note, I get to see my nephew in a few weeks, and I am really excited for that.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Don't push the Panick Button
I've been talking to all my dear friends/family today and its interesting hearing myself talk. Its kind of strange. How when I talk to one person I might be laughing, and the next not even be audible because of me crying. Wasn't it just the other day that I was telling my little soldier it was safe? I heard myself tell my adopted Uncle George today, that maybe this is just the life of a survivor for the first few years. Or maybe its just like this for a Triple Negative the first few years, because my odds go back to a normal persons after two more years. I've already put one behind me. I say that, as I feel the hard lump. That is what it is. I don't know, and all I have to go with so far is the technology that said its 99% sure its nothing.
I wish I could see my Surgeon today. Monday is a long way away. My friend Tamara is coming with me. My X, used to get upset when I'd ask him to go with me. He'd say, "Why do I need to be there?" But what people don't understand is that when you are freaked the hell out, my mind goes blank and its all you can do but to listen and try to ask questions. So, Tamara is going and she'll fire away at all the questions for me. If I forget. Maybe it'll be a really good visit. Maybe he'll show me my MRI and say, yep there it is. And nothing to worry about, simple scar tissue.
This is sucky. Sucky Ducky.
Well, I'm off to do a few massages and a wee bit of real estate. Its a perfect fall day here in the PNW. The trees are in their splendid glory of shifting colours and its raining.
I wish I could see my Surgeon today. Monday is a long way away. My friend Tamara is coming with me. My X, used to get upset when I'd ask him to go with me. He'd say, "Why do I need to be there?" But what people don't understand is that when you are freaked the hell out, my mind goes blank and its all you can do but to listen and try to ask questions. So, Tamara is going and she'll fire away at all the questions for me. If I forget. Maybe it'll be a really good visit. Maybe he'll show me my MRI and say, yep there it is. And nothing to worry about, simple scar tissue.
This is sucky. Sucky Ducky.
Well, I'm off to do a few massages and a wee bit of real estate. Its a perfect fall day here in the PNW. The trees are in their splendid glory of shifting colours and its raining.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
He agreed
Well, I just left my Onc's office, and he agreed that it does feel different, and he called my surgeon. He told me, that the MRI is 99% accurate, so I only have 1% chance that it is cancer. I like those odds. My initial appointment with my favorite surgeon is on Monday, early AM. I wonder what he'll say?
That's all I have for you, for me. To sit in this moment, and wait until Monday. I am not going to worry about it anymore. Actually, the little MRI stat he gave me took away a lot of my fear. It probably is just scar tissue. I'll find out soon enough.
That's all I have for you, for me. To sit in this moment, and wait until Monday. I am not going to worry about it anymore. Actually, the little MRI stat he gave me took away a lot of my fear. It probably is just scar tissue. I'll find out soon enough.
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