Again, I can't believe almost a week has gone by. My intentions are to write, but my priority right now is work. For all those months of laying around, I knew that this day would come, and because of that I am joyful for having a mind, a body, and a heart that innately likes to hum like a hummingbird. I have for the moment, allowed myself to work 10-13 hour days right now. My massage biz is slammed, and my real estate business is the busiest it has ever been. I can't complain about sales being made, with all the doom and gloom of the market around.
May was insane. I finished treatment, I've started coming to life, I've started to see my check bones again, my energy is starting to come back, i'm still on some meds~but we'll cross our fingers that my body is healing as it should, the list goes on and on. My heart is still wide open, and I cry a lot, but at appropriate times now : )
But come June, I have a few weekends off. That I am not compromising for anything. My survivor party/ritual will be the first weekend in June. I am really excited to stand in a circle of all the crucial people that have gotten me through this. It has taken a village to help me, to support me, and I want to look into all of my loved ones eyes and thank them. I am hoping for a lot of tears here. Which is perfect because its going to take place right on a beach, so their tears and mine, and all this icky stuff I've been through can flow to the ocean!
I'm excited to have 3 days off in a row, and hang out and play games with my family. No one knows it yet, and I dont have to worry about it, because my Dad doesn't read this~he can't handle it, and the few that do~shhhh don't say anything, Okay, I'm not going to say. But, I have some tricks and games up my sleeve, and its going to be fun.
So June is going to be more relaxing. I am hoping that this last taper off the steroids is healing to my body. I feel nervous to start running again, so I am going to listen to that nervousness and wait. My goal is June 1st. I've already started doing yoga and lifting some weights around the house, doing lunges, but nothing too much.
My mind is okay.
I learned some interesting cancer knowledge from my Aunt Barbara and my friend Shirley~both breast cancer survivors. They said that that tumor marker test, doc's don't worry about anything unless the number goes above 38. Now this is after treatment, the way they monitor if the doc's should look into doing scans, ect. It is not 100% accurate, and so its just one of the few tools they have.
Okay, so 38 and above sends off the red alert. But remember my number at diagnosis? It was 28. Now 8.8. So what my question to my Onc is going to be when I see him next on June 10, is if I was only a 28, that means that my cancer was really caught pretty damn early? And yes, I will add the word damn. Like hot damn! Like I can't freakin' believe it. This knowledge, if he reassures me that yes, it was caught very early, has and will until he answers my question, and then will continue to ride with me, will flick off my shoulder any demons that would like to harass me on a regular basis of the survivor question, "will I get it back."
The answer in the past without this info, would be a hope not, because I am a realist. I see the potential. But if this is true, then the answer will be hell no. The chances of a nothing cancer, living after the hell I just put my body through, is impossible in my mind.
On a happier note, I've always wanted to learn how to fly fish. And I am going to hear soon, if I got accepted into a Survivor Fly Fishing retreat at the Sun Mountain lodge soon. So lets all cross our fingers right this second for me, okay! Done! I'm sure I'll get in. I can't wait to wear the big hip boots, and be in the middle of the river, hopefully not falling down, learning to act like a fly.
Showing posts with label Cancer survivor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cancer survivor. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Thursday, December 11, 2008
For those of you without cancer..
Yesterday I spoke with a friend that is on a similar journey as I, but his cancer treatment is much more compact and brutal. We shared some hard things that only a Survivor really gets. And he said something to me that I felt that I should share once again, I know I have in earlier posts, but I thought it might be helpful to those of you that are reading this that have never had cancer and are helping take care of us along our journey. And for those of you that have not been affected by this disease, I think this could be helpful to you as well.
It is very easy in life to think you know yourself well enough to know how you will be in any one circumstance. I think we all would like to think that we know how we'd be if we got a limb cut-off, or if we lost our sight suddenly, or if we...you get the idea. But really none of us know how we would be. I can tell you that the hardest part of this journey for me was dealing with family and loved ones in my life judge me and hold me up to standards that they thought and knew that they'd react like. It was the most painful part of this journey. When all you need is love, and all you need is someone to tell you, " I have absolutely no idea what you are going through and I am not going to pretend that I do. I am here for you. I am here to listen to you." But instead, what I got was judgement from a few, and I had to gently explain myself in a time when I did not have the energy to do so. And honestly should not have been put in that position. My one prayer is to forgive these folks so that I can move on. But it is taking time.
So my suggestion is for those of you in the new role of being a friend to someone in this journey, is simple. Just listen. Don't tell them that you think you'd do something different then they are doing. Because I'll tell you what. I would have never in a million years thought I would do some of the things I have had to do, and I mean HAD to do, to get through this. Everything, was striped from me. Cancer strips every idea you once you thought you had, every memory that is attached to a feeling, ev-er-y-thing is gone. And it is up to the Survivor to get through their journey so that they can Survive. It is our journey, and our's alone.
My friend and I laughed yesterday that we watch so much TV. I rattled off the shows and times, and he said, "I'm right there with you."
When I first got diagnosed, D and I were trying to be positive and he said," Now you can learn to do the things you've wanted to learn." I thought, "Great idea. I can learn to knit." But when it came down to it, its either I am totally in the present moment. And in the present moment, you hurt, you feel really really sick, you're body is not your own, and you lay there feeling in the moment how it is to be really truely sick. And months go by, and it is too brutal to be present 24 hours a day. And really, truely alone with only your mind and your sick, sometimes hurting self, on tons of med's (which is so foreign to me).
So, I have chosen to give my mind a break, and my heart, and my flu like constant a break, to not think and watch lots of TV. I don't want to read right now, I don't want to do anything on those bad days. I want to disappear and laugh, and I get to laugh when I watch Ellen Degeneres. So, please, hold the judgements. You really have no idea what is is like to try to get through a experience like this, unless you've been there. And a bit of advice for you care-givers:
The most helpful thing you can do, is get the support you need so that you can be the support needed.
It is very easy in life to think you know yourself well enough to know how you will be in any one circumstance. I think we all would like to think that we know how we'd be if we got a limb cut-off, or if we lost our sight suddenly, or if we...you get the idea. But really none of us know how we would be. I can tell you that the hardest part of this journey for me was dealing with family and loved ones in my life judge me and hold me up to standards that they thought and knew that they'd react like. It was the most painful part of this journey. When all you need is love, and all you need is someone to tell you, " I have absolutely no idea what you are going through and I am not going to pretend that I do. I am here for you. I am here to listen to you." But instead, what I got was judgement from a few, and I had to gently explain myself in a time when I did not have the energy to do so. And honestly should not have been put in that position. My one prayer is to forgive these folks so that I can move on. But it is taking time.
So my suggestion is for those of you in the new role of being a friend to someone in this journey, is simple. Just listen. Don't tell them that you think you'd do something different then they are doing. Because I'll tell you what. I would have never in a million years thought I would do some of the things I have had to do, and I mean HAD to do, to get through this. Everything, was striped from me. Cancer strips every idea you once you thought you had, every memory that is attached to a feeling, ev-er-y-thing is gone. And it is up to the Survivor to get through their journey so that they can Survive. It is our journey, and our's alone.
My friend and I laughed yesterday that we watch so much TV. I rattled off the shows and times, and he said, "I'm right there with you."
When I first got diagnosed, D and I were trying to be positive and he said," Now you can learn to do the things you've wanted to learn." I thought, "Great idea. I can learn to knit." But when it came down to it, its either I am totally in the present moment. And in the present moment, you hurt, you feel really really sick, you're body is not your own, and you lay there feeling in the moment how it is to be really truely sick. And months go by, and it is too brutal to be present 24 hours a day. And really, truely alone with only your mind and your sick, sometimes hurting self, on tons of med's (which is so foreign to me).
So, I have chosen to give my mind a break, and my heart, and my flu like constant a break, to not think and watch lots of TV. I don't want to read right now, I don't want to do anything on those bad days. I want to disappear and laugh, and I get to laugh when I watch Ellen Degeneres. So, please, hold the judgements. You really have no idea what is is like to try to get through a experience like this, unless you've been there. And a bit of advice for you care-givers:
The most helpful thing you can do, is get the support you need so that you can be the support needed.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Another one bites the dust..
Yesterday, is now behind me. Chemotherapy number 11. I have actually done eleven chemotherapies. To get through this I just have had to keep my head down and go. Move. Don't think to much, little one. Just do it. Just get your port put in. Don't think, feel a bit, and move forward. Yesterday, I let myself think about the monstrosity of chemo and what I have actually gone through. All the stuff. The IVF stuff, all the injections I had to give myself, all the emotions of coming to grips with possibly not getting to have my own kids someday, all the tests, the hair cuts, the hair falling out, the sleepless nights, the not feeling good, the losing and tearing away of the veils of my former life, on and on the list goes. I let myself think about my these feets yesterday. I have actually allowed myself to receive eleven chemo's so far. Incredilbe. There are tears running down my face right now.
Yep, I have only five more and I can't wait. I am a little scared of all the tears that will start percolating in early March, when I am all done, and am safe to REALLY start processing. You know, when you go traveling to a third world place and you are suddenly able to live and do things that you in your first world mentalities would never allow yourself to come in contact with, and you can fully function and love life in this new way. I've always wondered how I was able to live with the people in West Africa for as long as I did. And I loved every moment of it. Having cancer is sortof like this. I for some reason, am able to transcend my old way of being, (although its just in reach, whenever I am ready to go back to it) and do and go through things that I once didn't know I could go through. We are all like this. We are so much more than we ever really know.
I had relatives this past winter tell me and D that they didn't think I could handle being on Survivor. It was such a funny statement to me when they said this. First of all, it was clear they didn't know who I was very well, and secondly to think that a human spirit isn't able to transcend was such a foreign concept to me. This is what WE do. This IS life. And WE all do it, daily. Maybe not Cancer level, or Survivor level, or Africa level, but we do it. Its how we survive what we call life. Its our opportunity to grow spiritually.
So, here I am unable to sleep and thinking about what I've done so far. I told my Onc yesterday that if there are any microscopic cancer cells that have not been killed, and rear their heads on a MRI in a couple years (it takes sometimes, a few years to grow large enough to be detected) that i wasn't sure if I'd go through this again. He said, that right about now this is how everyone feels. I have been, not out of morbidity, but out of the very real fact that it could happen, thinking about my action plan if it does come back. I told my Onc that I was thinking a nice beach in Costa Rica would be a good way to go, instead of poisoning myself in my last days in hopes that something works.
He told me, that he's giving me the most powerful chemo drugs he can this time, in hopes that that doens't happen. The brite side, is if it does come back, he'd give me lessor powerful drugs to see if that would do the trick. And in a couple years, the medicine will have new innovative treatments. He told me its common to go through this. Which leads me to thinking about how vulnerable I will feel when this is all done.
As it is right now, each day I have to stop myself from doing breast exams. I keep thinking I feel lumps, and panicking. D, reminds me that my Onc, "the best guy in the state to do a breast exam, Heather" just did one last week and you are OKAY. Right. I am okay. Sure. Sure. Its so unsettling. I already know that I am going to NEED a few support groups and I can't wait to start turning this blog, into a book. This process is really going to help my process.re
Yep, I have only five more and I can't wait. I am a little scared of all the tears that will start percolating in early March, when I am all done, and am safe to REALLY start processing. You know, when you go traveling to a third world place and you are suddenly able to live and do things that you in your first world mentalities would never allow yourself to come in contact with, and you can fully function and love life in this new way. I've always wondered how I was able to live with the people in West Africa for as long as I did. And I loved every moment of it. Having cancer is sortof like this. I for some reason, am able to transcend my old way of being, (although its just in reach, whenever I am ready to go back to it) and do and go through things that I once didn't know I could go through. We are all like this. We are so much more than we ever really know.
I had relatives this past winter tell me and D that they didn't think I could handle being on Survivor. It was such a funny statement to me when they said this. First of all, it was clear they didn't know who I was very well, and secondly to think that a human spirit isn't able to transcend was such a foreign concept to me. This is what WE do. This IS life. And WE all do it, daily. Maybe not Cancer level, or Survivor level, or Africa level, but we do it. Its how we survive what we call life. Its our opportunity to grow spiritually.
So, here I am unable to sleep and thinking about what I've done so far. I told my Onc yesterday that if there are any microscopic cancer cells that have not been killed, and rear their heads on a MRI in a couple years (it takes sometimes, a few years to grow large enough to be detected) that i wasn't sure if I'd go through this again. He said, that right about now this is how everyone feels. I have been, not out of morbidity, but out of the very real fact that it could happen, thinking about my action plan if it does come back. I told my Onc that I was thinking a nice beach in Costa Rica would be a good way to go, instead of poisoning myself in my last days in hopes that something works.
He told me, that he's giving me the most powerful chemo drugs he can this time, in hopes that that doens't happen. The brite side, is if it does come back, he'd give me lessor powerful drugs to see if that would do the trick. And in a couple years, the medicine will have new innovative treatments. He told me its common to go through this. Which leads me to thinking about how vulnerable I will feel when this is all done.
As it is right now, each day I have to stop myself from doing breast exams. I keep thinking I feel lumps, and panicking. D, reminds me that my Onc, "the best guy in the state to do a breast exam, Heather" just did one last week and you are OKAY. Right. I am okay. Sure. Sure. Its so unsettling. I already know that I am going to NEED a few support groups and I can't wait to start turning this blog, into a book. This process is really going to help my process.re
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Is this a Dream?
Last night I kept dreaming that my surgery was tomorrow (today now) and I was so anxious about it. I'd wake myself up and remind myself that tomorrow was only Thursday. I am anxious because once the surgery is done, within a few days I will finally have my final diagnosis and this will and won't be a great thing.
The thing is that I find myself, like yesterday afternoon thinking in my head that maybe the Doc's will find that I don't have breast cancer. That maybe this whole thing is a huge mistake. Why would I have breast cancer? It is just not possible. So, maybe they made a bad mistake. But then I have to remind myself, that I saw my MRI's and my PET scan and yes, I saw the tumor. So, the countdown is on. All my questions will be answered soon. All the Survivor's tell me that this is the hardest part. All that I have been through up to the surgery. Once I start treatment its just moving through the process, and then life will be back to normal. Possibly going a day without thinking about cancer.
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