Living Life

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Wishful Endings...

May flowers bring me one year and eleven months from the day I was initially diagnosed. I wrote this posting days ago. I have been sitting with it, making sure it is something I am really ready to do. My dear friend asked me the other day, " are you sad in your decision? I said no." But as I write here, I feel sad. But the sadness is not in the letting go, but in all that I have gone through. I am ready to start placing my energy on going moving forward and writing my book, and living life.

***My friends keep texting me and saying, You are a Marathoner. Wow! I am. I did it. I never let myself think about the whole 26 miles. I didn’t want to psyche myself out. I must say, that I think I could run a fifty mile, ultra-marathon now. With proper training of coarse. But for sure, I am already signed up for another marathon, and my new goal is to run four marathons a year.

I made a little Picasa web album with comments so that you all could see the beautiful place I ended all of this. I cannot think of a more triumphant ending. I was diagnosed at 33, went through fertility treatments, eleven chemo’s, and 33 radiations, on top of experiencing all the wonderful side effects that seemed to be ever present with each bend in the road, and then ending treatment I filed for divorce.

I got knocked down over and over and over. I learned how to not let that take anything away from me. Instead, I learned to surrender to all the twists and challenges and embrace them. I hope my blog will continue to help you woman and men out there that feel alone on your journey of cancer. Whether it is your journey, your sisters journey, or your wife’s journey. My prayer is that my words bring peace into your lives.

I often wrote thinking of some young woman in a little town in South Dakota with no support around her. I wrote to comfort you, to comfort me, and to comfort our families. I am totally done writing here, with the exceptions of posting updates of events I will be speaking at and creating. I am ready to start writing and being there again for the woman on the Triple Negative Breast Cancer Foundations website. This site was one of the most helpful, loving, supportive, and real places I could bring all of my emotions, all of my thoughts, and not be judged.

There will be a new chapter in my life, but first I must close this book, and regroup in the life that I now have worked so hard to be a part of. My life has come to that joyous place that Survivors ahead of me said would come, “Heather, some day you will go a day without thinking of breast cancer. You will have a life back. You will have a new normal, but normal you will have again..I promise.”

Thank you all for your love, for following my journey, and I look forward to hearing from you. Please continue passing this blog onto anyone you think that it will bring comfort, peace, and healing to.

The ever living Ghost of Once was

Its taken me a few days of retracing and dissecting what I learned about myself, from my 20 mile run last Saturday. Happily, and reverently I am thankful I ran out on Vashon Island. This island, as you all know by now, is one of my heart places in this world. Its a safe place for me. A retreat. My sanctuary. I ran from the Northend ferry south alongside the Westside highway, ending my run around a loop that is called the Burton loop. Since I was 17, I have ran that loop off and on, it is three miles from my favorite little coffee stand.

The first ten miles were met by spring's multi-hued palettes of green. Buds pushing out into bright fushcia Salmonberry blossoms. I past a creek that years ago, I had reached after hours of crawling through various tight brambles and walking fallen trees in a ravine miles upstream. Remembering how happy I was to reach the Puget Sound after such an adventurous trek, by myself. I ran past the memories of friends homes, of parties, of stories, of births, of dreams that have morphed into the stories I now tell. I ran past the house I rented last summer to celebrate my one year anniversary. I wrote poems in my head of all these things.

As I run, I break up the long miles into quarters, so every 5 miles I got closer to being done. The closer to my own private victory.

As I reached the little town of Burton, I raised my arms in victory, being that I only had four miles left. I started to cry a little, but had to stop because my lungs hurt with the irregular gasps from crying, when I am already pushing them hard. I stopped for a moment, and looked out at the view of Maury Island (Vashon is connected by a little isthmus to Maury Island) and said, "You did it, Heather."

Running is just for me. It brings me deeper into me. I get to learn how my mind works, how it would like to trick me into stopping. How in the pain (and I am in pain as I run these longer runs) the mind can tell me different stories, all stories that are from past experiences/stories about how I should stop. I travel with these stories, and then imprint new stories. Stories of, "Remember, when you were sick? Remember how bad you felt? If you got through that, you can push through for a few more miles."

Running allows me to heal further. To regain parts of me that were defeated. So, in that moment(s) of raising my arms in victory, I shook my fists..I did it. Victory is so sweet. Growth as a human, is so sweet. This victory is no ones, but mine.

A few of my nearest and dearest will be at the finish line. The symbolism of their support is huge for me. Before cancer, it was nearly impossible to allow myself to receive this kind of support. I was always trying to prove to myself, how I could do everything on my own. How strong I was. Cancer broke this down. I learned how to be vulnerable. I learned how to be soft AND strong. I learned to risk asking for what I needed, and then being okay with whatever answer I got. As I run through the finish line, and celebrate that night with my beloveds, we will be celebrating Life.

I am ready for the marathon now. I am glad I have a few weeks to rest up, and heal from the 20 miles.

A wee side note...I wanted to thank two of my Mom's in this life. Debbie and Kathy, for meeting me after my run. They drove me back to my car at the Northend. But not before retracing my entire run, and filling me up with so much love, celebration, praise, and encouragement. Those hills sure did seem bigger in the car! Your love brings tears to my eyes as I write this. I sure am lucky, to be loved as I am. I will remember this part of the celebration for ever. Hugs.

Jen Hoffmann

One of my best friends called me tonight, she lost her sister to breast cancer the same day I finished radiation. We have become very close this past year, through our mutual best friend, Keiko. I have been grappling with the idea of what my Pink Ribbon will read as I pass through my Marathon in Big Sur...actually ending in Carmel. She called me tonight and asked if I'd figured out what my ribbon was going to say. I told her no. At which point she sent me a photo of her sister at the top of Mt. Whitney after her second chemo infusion. She hiked this Mountain and stood on top of it with the sign that read (her supportive husband printed it out for her) and it read....

CANCER SCHMANCER

Those words say it all. And that is what my sign will say.

*uck Cancer....is at the core of it. Is what pushes me when I am hurting and tired. I push through and think of my pain, of what I have gone through. So yes, *uck Cancer...but I don't want to run through that. I want to run through the idea that this is nothing. That cancer couldn't stop me, and nothing can.. I will continue living, and pushing forward...

Hell Yes! JEN HOFFMANN...Survivor that keeps living, in Memory. I will be running through CANCER SCHMANCER.....Thank you.

Jen said in her blog: 8/12/2007::::


Jenn Glickman March 7 at 10:12pm
Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose...

Sunday, August 12, 2007 by ShawnieMac
On August 10, at exactly 11:44 AM, after ascending exactly 6132.61', (and two days after chemo), we reached the summit of Mt. Whitney under the bluest of blue skies. In spite of all of my recent treatments, we're pretty convinced that the best medicine I've received so far came at 14,497'.

When we reached the summit, after tears of celebration and accomplishment, Greg pulled out this sign he had made before we left (unbeknownst to me). Pretty much sums it up...

Whatever ends up taking me eventually, it sure as hell isn't going to be this cancer...

Time to start living

Survivors ahead of me on the road to recovery said over and over to me, "There will come a day when you do not think of cancer." That was hard to believe. Hard to imagine. I can happily say, with tears streaming down my face, that that day has almost come. So much to say. I moved, and have been overwhelmed with busy life things to get internet at my place. And processing at my office is not the thing to do.
where to start. I'm going to go back a few weeks to my counseling session. I must again state here, how important seeing a cancer specialist therapist has been to my recovery.
I was in there telling her how overwhelmed I was. Telling her all my "USED" to be stuff. I used to be a good multi-tasker. An unbelievable one. I still do more than the most person in a day, but in doing that I have huge anxiety, huge sense of non-well-being, and just not coping well. She said to me, as light bulb went off in my head, "Heather, when you got diagnosed everything became structured around doctors appointments, and chemo, and radiation, ect." Suddenly, the dam broke and I just started to cry.
That was it. I had, with a goddamit HAD to stop everything. I had to say goodbye to my life and stop living it...so that I could get a chance to LIVE again. Wow. It is time to start living again. To stop going through the steps, but actually living. Making plans. I have been making plans. But those plans were sprawled across my mind, and had no connection to my heart. I realized with great JOY, as I grabbed her notebook and pen out of her hands, I NEEDED TO START MAKING MY SCHEDULE!!
I realized that I was safe to do so. I can ease into life. I can wake up, drink my tea, day dream about anything (which is NOT cancer related anymore), get dressed, go work out, go into my office, go do massages, go back to my office, take a walk, eat nourishing food, and go to sleep.
I spent the summer just being a crazed extrovert with no direction at all. This winter, I am sinking into my life again. Actually, just the past couple of weeks. And you know what? The anxiety is gone. I am much more relaxed. Realizing at the sametime, that I still have a ways to go with feeling safe and mentally sound.
That was huge.
The other huge thing, is that I have commited and have started training the last couple of months for the Big Sur Marathon, April 25th. I had decided I wanted to run one, and then I ran into my friend Bridget. She had run this one, and loved it. I looked it up, and smiled instantly when I saw the date. Exactly a year after I compeleted my treatment, I will be kicking cancer in the ass with a marathon. In one of my top three favorite places in the world.
As I train, I visualize crossing the finish line, and breaking my hand made pink ribbon that my sister and one of my best friends Gen will be holding. I started out thinking the ribbon will read, "Fuck Cancer." But then, that is not really me, and have been thinking more on the lines of, "I beat breast cancer". That is not it, still thinking. You all may suggest a one liner for this ribbon for me!! At the end of the day, its going to be a total reclammation of my body, and saying to myself, If I can get through cancer treatment, I can finish a marathon, and I will do it. I am on week 5 of Hal Higgdon's novice plan, and am absolutely loving feeling my body getting stronger and stronger every week. Last Saturday was my big run of 9 miles, and I finished. Slow but I finished, in an hour and 49 mintues. This Saturday is a 10 miler. I am training twice a week with a personal trainer, and feeling very strong. This is helping to decrease my anxiety as well. And very happy to say, my hot flashes, have all but vanished. Except last night, I woke to wet blankets, a major night sweat.

I am doing well. I am healing still. I am learning how to simply live, so that I can integrate all my new learned lessons of self. I am being gentle with myself, and only surrounding myself with positive people. I was in such need during my treatment, that I took help from anyone, now its time to move back to pure joy and light again.

I am becoming whole. I made my next three month appointment during yesterdays couseling session. I kept putting it off, and needed my hand held during the phone call. Its for February 3rd. I will let the scared feelings wait for that day and the next, until I get my tumor markers told to me over the phone. That news and bad feelings can wait for those days. Today, is a day of light and joy, and kicking ass!

Sleeping alot

I have been going to sleep around 8:30 for a while now. Last night, the Amazing Race was on, and I fell asleep watching it. I have just been exhausted. I slept pretty well last night, woke up around 2:30, drank some water, and then fell back to sleep until 6 AM. I woke up with tons of energy, so I made a beef stew. Today is absolutely gorgeous and I am wishing my blister wasn't having such a hard time healing. I think now that I am lowering the steroid dosage, that my WBC count is getting lower, possibly. I just don't understand if it was high why it got so infected. As, I have had neosporin on it constantly with clean bandages. I wish the rollerblading blister was healed, so I could go bladding again today. Yesterday, I took my first 2 mile walk down to the beach and back. There is a huge hill that I walked briskly up, but had to stop a couple of times and catch my breath. It felt so good to walk up a hill, to feel my heart beating, and to feel the strength in my legs. My leg muscles were actually a little sore, not noticeable, but just a little, "hey, were here," feeling.
I am beginning to have fleeting moments of feeling my athlete in my rise again, and she dreams about the day I can go for a run again. She thinks of just running down the block and then doing lunges home. : )


****

I took another 2 mile walk today down to the beach, but this time I didn't have to stop to catch my breath. Its amazing how sore my tibialis anterior's were! Ouch!! My body is waking up and being sore!

Where did the weekend go?

I can't believe its already Sunday night. I had a blast this weekend. In fact, I can't remember a weekend that I had this much fun. Today I met my friend Sarah (long time friend from Vashon) and we walked all around the Arboretum. For those of you that don't live in Seattle, it is one of the most beautiful parks here in the city. WIth the fall leaves at their peak I had sensory overload. She reminded me to put myself first and again, I was reminded of the foremost lesson that "cancer" is/has taught me. I need to put Heather first.
Why is it that woman tend to think of their mates/children first, putting off their needs and desires for the greater good. When the greater good often gets neglected in return. I had a great weekend because I put Heather first all weekend, as I have been doing on a much smaller scale since I got diagnosed.
I miss living on Vashon. When I am out there my community is around me at every turn in the road. Literally, it is. I get to say Hello to the folks crossing in the streets. I miss that to the core of my spirit. Taking walks out there I can hear, actually hear the rustle of the leaves and the distant eagle chirping. These are sounds in the city that get eaten up by the roar and vibrant beat of all the people.

I spent all day yesterday out on the island. I had lunch and dinner with friends and in between took a long long walk all by myself. This used to be a daily routine. I can't wait to live out there again. Life is just simpler out there.