Something has been on my mind for awhile... and I don't really know how to feel about it. During the course of my cancer journey, several people close to me have lost people close to them from cancer (or have learned that a loved one's cancer is untreatable). Each time this conversation has taken place, the person sharing the story eventually says to me...
You are blessed. You are still alive. Or, your cancer is treatable so you should be thankful.
*blank look*
Until recently, I've been unable to clearly articulate how this statement was like a dagger in my heart. Yes, I am blessed. My cancer has responded well to my treatment. My job has been fantastic about working with me through my disability. My family and friends have been super-supportive of me. So, I know that I am blessed.
What makes me cringe is the notion that the people who died, or who have been handed a "death sentence" by cancer... are somehow NOT blessed.
We are all fortunate in our lives in some way... every day. Each of us. And while you may not be dealing with something like cancer, there is likely something in your life right now that is giving you fits. But through it all, you are blessed. And even if you don't feel like that every moment of every day, I'm pretty sure that you know it deep down in your spirit.
I have breast cancer. It is scary and makes me feel helpless. But through it all, I am blessed. Not because of my particular circumstances but despite them.
One of my twitterfriends is a pastor (whom I've never met) and his wife was just diagnosed with breast cancer last month. She has already had her mastectomy and just began her chemotherapy treatment. When her husband posted a link to her blog, I took a glimpse into her life and her mindset. I was blown away.
This sister said that she was grateful that God had given her cancer because she knew that this trial was another way for God to show his blessings to others through her. It was a way to increase her ministry.
wow.
Y'all know me... I am NOT there. (laughs) But I was impressed with her outlook on what I know to be a very frightening time in her life. My question about blessings being graded on a curve is a real one. Should I feel more blessed because today my cancer is treatable and my prognosis is good? And if so... how should I feel if my cancer returns? It is a distinct possibility.
I was discussing the death of Wayman Tisdale with a friend who was acquainted with Wayman personally. The death hit him pretty hard - but I think he was surprised to learn that it hit me hard as well, since I didn't know him. But his death was a reminder that no matter how prepared I may be to deal with this cancer -- if it ultimately chooses to take me out, it will. To my understanding Wayman did all that he was told would help him to rid his body of cancer and yet, cancer still had its way in the end.
As I continue to weigh the pros and cons of prophylactic surgery when I have my reconstruction surgery... I keep asking myself is it worth it? All of this? There are no guarantees that any of these life-saving measures will actually save my life. And then the question becomes... if, one day, I find myself faced with the absolute end, will the efforts to hold it off have been worth it? And will I still know deep in my heart that I am blessed?
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Speaking of prophylactic surgery... I watched Oprah's breast cancer episode on Monday afternoon. I learned that for women who have/had breast cancer, the chances of recurrence in the other breast is higher for those women who have the BRCA1 or BRCA2 breast cancer genes. The difference is HUGE. Breast cancer patients/survivors with the gene have an almost 50% chance of breast cancer coming back in their other breast. Those without the gene have about a 5% chance of recurrence.
sigh.
So, my anger about the plastic surgeon's recommendation that I remove my other breast as a preventative measure has calmed down now. I still don't want to lose my breast but I have decided to get the genetic testing to help the decision making process. If I do have the genes, then it will make my decision that much easier. Well, not easier but you know what I mean.
I am working hard at making these decisions in a very logical fashion. Although no one can guarantee me that all of these efforts will not ultimately be in vain, something within me is forcing me to keep trying.
It is 430 am and I am a sweaty mess. The routine is the same night after night. I find it interesting that while I was in Florida, my hot flashes were minimal. Not sure if its because it was hot like Hades there and I couldn't tell the difference or because I kept the air conditioning so low in the room that sweat didn't dare show up out of fear of instant evaporation.
Whatever the case, not working here. Definitely. However, there is good news. Relative good news, that is. I read somewhere earlier this evening that suffering through hot flashes was actually a good sign.
...women who are experiencing hot flashes have an associated lower level of estrogen circulating in their bloodstreams, while the absence of hot flashes is associated with higher levels of estrogen. And it so happens that reducing the amount of circulating estrogen is a major treatment strategy in breast cancer.
I will have to remind myself of this often over the next few years. Because honey... this sweating all night long (for no good reason) is for the birds.
....wanted to add that the whining and complaining I used as my last blog entry was a sad display. It is a tragedy that I have become afraid of living and dying at the same time. That there is some punk logic for ya. Since I'm up, I'm giving myself a mental pep talk.
Life is too short - with or without cancer - to live afraid. You can't function that way. Its crazy.
Yes, I have cancer. More than likely, I'll beat it. I was about to say but... but I won't. More than likely, I will beat it. More than likely, I will beat cancer.
Even though I can think that and somewhat believe it ...when I close my eyes, I see the faces of women who didn't make it. (shaking my head) I don't know family, finding that place of peace within the notion of death is more difficult than I thought.
5 is a magic number when you have breast cancer. After chemotherapy, surgery and radiation treatment... I am taking a drug, tamoxifen, for 5 years to help reduce the risk of recurrence. Your chances of recurrence drop off significantly after 5 years. However, if your cancer recurs within 2 years, it doesn't bode well for your survival. At least that's what I've been reading lately.
Why is this on my mind? Because I've begun to think about the future. Making plans and thinking thoughts... about buying a home (finally), buying a luxury car, travelling around the world and maybe if I'm blessed... having a family.
But for everything on my wish list, I have a nagging thought about "what if I'm not here to finish paying for or taking care of it?" So, for example, I look at real estate listings just about everyday and my desires change everyday about what sort of purchase I would like to make. One day, I want something small and cheap because I want to have more disposable income available so that I can buy the dream car I want and travel like I want and continue to live a single girl's lifestyle. A few days later, I want to spend more and stretch myself to get the brand new(ish) house that is full of upgrades and such because I think... if I'm only going to be in it for a few years I want to appreciate the whole experience.
Its irrational, I know. But the anxiety is starting to choke me. I've been going through similar worrying sessions about buying a car, selecting vacation destinations and more. I want to go back to school. Is it worth my time to pursue degrees I may never use? Or should I use the time to do other things, like travel to countries I've always wanted to visit.
The truth is that I don't know how much time I have left. I don't know if I'll be here another 50 years or 50 days. And my fear and anxiety is illogical and irrational. But I feel it... deep in my heart and it scares me.
Part of the reason I haven't tried to purchase a house before now, or have kids or get the luxury car... is because I've been living with my life on hold. I've been waiting for "something" to come along; the love of my life, the outrageously wonderful job, the feeling that finally I'm adult enough to handle my own life. But I didn't live in the moment enough to recognize that I've loved a lot in my life - even though I never married. I would have been a good mother - if I had just believed in myself. I'm just as smart as my friends who have more degrees all together than I think should be allowed by law. And yes! I deserve full length fur coats and fancy cars... if that's what would make me smile. Why did I think those things were too much for me to have? And why now am I still worried about reaching out for them?
Its maddening to be so wishy-washy about your own life.
I can't turn the clock back and make myself appreciate myself more. But faced with the risks of death that cancer brings, I now feel that now I have permission to fully appreciate myself and do what I want to do. However, when I think about the things I want and how long it may take to get them... I start thinking about the magic 5. And I get stuck all over again.
Utter madness.
Life is really about the journey moreso than the destination. Procrastination has stolen years from me while I waited for perfection to show up. (it seems so silly now) The other day my mother and I were talking about relationships and dating and she said to me that my problem was that I was looking for perfection in a man. I didn't agree with that as it pertained to dating. But I do think its applicable for me regarding so many other things in my life. I have lived so much for tomorrow, that I never got to enjoy today. Procrastination stole years I thought I had, and then cancer tried to the rest. The shame of it all...
I've never watched the movie "The Bucket List" but one of the suggestions I got from one of the many cancer books I've read over these past months was to make a list of goals and work toward reaching them. This concept was supposed to help keep a bit of normalcy in your life -- give you things to look forward to. I have been thinking a lot about the things I want to do, the way that I want to live my life and when it dawned on me the other day that I was creating a bucket list, I got sad.
I know that I'm being a big baby about this stuff. Just buy the car, Nic. Start the process to buy the condo you want. Take some classes toward that new degree. Its not complicated. But it is. And that frustrates me. I'm struggling with the "what ifs"... and its silly and childish I know. I'm working my way through it. No doubt you'll start to hear bits and pieces about the goals I'm working toward. Pay me no mind. I am just working through some thangs. It will be alright.
I'm sharing this post from another breast cancer blogger because I could not have worded this better. I thank every one of you who has chosen to stand with me, or with your friend/family member with cancer. We know its hard for you and just as you wish you could take this away from us, we wish we could take the worry and pain away from you as well. Please read the following and know that I feel the same way. THANK YOU! -----------------------
Thank You May 21, 2009 10:08 PM 0 comments, below Categories: My Life Tags: Cancer, Support, Help, Thank you,
I was about to write a blog about my dang iPhone breaking again, when I read the comment section of my Farrah’s Story blog and came across Girl Talk’s comment.
She writes: I was disappointed to have missed her story although I'm not sure I would have gotten through it - I watched my father-in-law try to battle pancreatic cancer for 13 months and am currently dealing with a friend battling breast cancer... it's very painful being a by-stander.
It was that last line that got me. So I’ll tell you the story of my crazy ridiculous ride with my Apple phone (4th phone in 8 months and going for a fifth tomorrow) another day—right now I need to talk to Kristen and everyone else who’s ever had to sit and “watch” someone have cancer.
Let me say that on behalf of myself and the too-many-other cancer patients out there who've been lucky enough to have you care about us, I thank you. You, who sits there and worries, and cries, and gets scared, and can’t sleep; you who tries to buy or make or do or say just the right thing to make us feel better, feel happy, get distracted, smile or in chemo-induced moments, eat something—what else is there to convey to you wonderful, important, helpless individuals but that you are-- in a nutshell--the best.
We cancer patients are scared, and we’re fighting. We have a goal and we have our drugs and our treatment plans and our maps for kicking cancer’s –ss. You on the other hand don’t have that focus: you are watching and waiting and worrying, and wondering—wondering if standing there feeling helpless and un-useful is really doing us any good.
Well I’m here to assure you, in no uncertain terms, that the answer to your furrowed brow question is Y-E-S.
You see, sometimes helping out has nothing to do with effort--even though I'm sure it doesn't feel like that. For most of our lives, effort has usually brought some kind of result; like when you volunteer to drive us to our 5th chemotherapy drip or bring a homemade meal over so we don’t have to worry about cooking at a time like this, you can feel the fruits or your labor. You clearly helped. You know where you stand. And it's so true; these are obvious moments where your generosity and kindness, mixed with your gas mileage, time and recipes, serves to lighten our cancer load and helps us make it through another rotten day.
But there are other times, indeed all the rest of the time, when you’re sitting at your home, staring at your phone and thinking of calling, but not wanting to wake us from what you hope is a nap we’re taking-- wondering how we are, what else could you be doing, and whether anything of the seemingly tiny things you’ve done to help us out of our trauma even mattered. I tell you, they do.
And as you go off and do things in your day that you want to enjoy but up next to our cancer now seem almost indulgent—the running around the grocery store with your biggest worry being what’s on sale, the catching up with a friend for a latte and to dish about the latest People Magazine, or the going to sleep knowing your kids are safe in bed and you are a healthy strong woman whose friend is battling something you pray you never get-- you wonder, how much more of this can I take? How much more of someone else’s cancer can I witness? Am I strong enough for this? What does this all mean for me? Is being scared of this okay, or am I one big failure as a friend?
Let me tell you, all those feelings are so absolutely okay they’re practically textbook cases of what happens when cancer hits your intimate circle: and as the friend around the friend/sister/cousin/husband/wife or someone-you-know with cancer, you have every right to have these moments. You have every right to live your life, to help out when you can, and even in certain moments to want to back away and pretend none of it is even happening.
But hear this: our cancer is not your cancer. In fact, it can’t be yours, we need you to be strong, and healthy, and we relish that for you. And we hope to be just like you again as soon as this hell is over. And when you take a break and need some time for you, take it—and don’t feel guilty. We get how hard it is, believe me, we get that loud and clear.
So thank you to all the outsiders, the bystanders, the ones who watch, and worry and wait. You are scared, we know, for us and for you. So thank you for coming so near at a time you may want to go running for a door. Thank you for just standing by or for not saying anything but offering your hand to hold, your shoulder to lean on, your smile and wink as comfort. It works. It really works.
I don’t know why cancer hits the people that it does, but we the bulls-eyed would be nowhere without you who encircle us: not only do you define our space on the dart board, but you envelop us in the love and support we need to give this fight the best we got, win, lose or draw.
The theme of the week is "walk in love". I got that from my event on Saturday afternoon with the sisters and brothers of IASK. Before my talk, the group discussed walking in love as a way of life. We were tasked with showing love to someone (friend, family, colleague, etc.) who had been unloving toward us.
The sister who came to mind for me as someone I needed to show love to, was a sister whose name I don't even know. Some of you may remember her from a post back in December. She was the receptionist at the plastic surgeon's office who left me and my boyfriend sitting in the waiting room for hours, because she failed to properly (at all) process my information so that I could see the doctor in a timely fashion. During that time I was rundown from the chemo and I just refused to be negative or harsh to anyone. But what that meant was that in some situations (like that one) I allowed myself to be taken advantage of. (shrug)
I have seen that sister again because I'm in that medical building all the time for my treatments. Most of the doctors that I see are housed there. Although on that day, my boyfriend and I did make a comment to one of the nurses who did eventually get a chance to assist me, I have still harbored some negative feelings about her lack of professionalism and pitiful empathy for a sick person (me). When I have seen her again, all I could do was roll my eyes, and avoid talking to her at any cost. My rationale has been that I don't like her but I may have to deal with her so if I don't say anything to her I will be able to continue to conduct my business with minimal distractions between us. But... outside of her job as the receptionist, she's a human being. And in all honesty, she probably was just in a mindless space that day and simply forgot about me. It was close to the holidays. So far, the only person who has really been harmed in the transaction is me -- because I'm holding a grudge against someone I don't even know for an infraction she probably doesn't even remember committing.
I need to let it go and walk in love.
It was 5 months ago. (smile) You would think after all of the medical personnel that I have dealt with, she wouldn't even register in my mind. Sadly, she does. So, I am thinking of a way that I can be loving toward her... and hopefully remove this feeling in my heart that I have.
On Sunday, I spoke at "Women Speak" and it was an equally awesome experience. I talked about my experience but I also talked about how important it is for all of us to just let people "love on us". Black women are great at loving on others - family, friends, kids, etc. We make it our business to love and care and nurture those people in our lives. But when it comes to allowing others to take care of us, to simply "love on" us... we often balk. We lean back on our superwoman capes and tell ourselves (and anyone who will listen) that we don't "need" anything. That we can do it by ourselves.
And while that's true probably -- you CAN do it by yourself -- sometimes you really have to just be strong enough to rest, relax and let someone else love on you. The ladies at Women Speak loved on me Sunday afternoon. They laid hands on me, said a prayer for my healing and blessed my heart with their ability to love me -- even as I sat in front of them talking about how broken and heart-broken I felt. They just "loved on" me (little ol' me). And it was so beautiful.
I've been thinking about this weekend all day, I'm still in the bed because this cold I caught last week, just won't turn me loose. I've come to the conclusion that, I don't let people love on me enough. I stood in the middle of that circle on Sunday and cried like a baby. It felt so good to be loved on that way.
One of the hardest parts about breaking up with someone (yes, I'm talking about him again, lol)... is that you miss the intimacy that being in a relationship brings to your life. I miss the hugs and cheek-kisses, the laughs and hand-holding. And I didn't know how much I missed it until my sistas shared their hugs and kisses with me on Sunday.
When you're sick, people see you in your most fragile and vulnerable state. And they don't want to cause you any pain, so they often treat you gingerly. That's actually fine. And since I've been in treatment, I've had a few problems because of infections that have left me in the hospital or in the bed for days at a time. The truth is that my immune system is weakened and my body spends a lot of energy trying to heal itself. So, while I know logically that its best for me not to touch, hug, etc. lots of people... my spirit does still need that human connection from time to time.
I let the women who attended Women Speak love on me (see the picture of all the women holding their hands on me) and I feel so blessed because of it.
Let somebody love on you. And if there is someone who is unloving to you, show them some love this week. It may make a difference.
This post was shared in my online social group last week by one of the group members. I wanted to share her message because her issue with her "fabulous boobies" - though brief - was a great reminder that taking care of yourself is a responsibility that we all have. The story doesn't have to start (or end) with cancer. Sometimes an obstacle can be merely a bump in the road that reminds us that tomorrow isn't promised so let's take care of today. [May, 2009] ~Nic
"My Ode To Nicole"
As some of you may know, I've been a member of the group for years. Alternating between active (LOUD) and not-so-active (LURKING). I've received a lot from this board; many laughs, some outrage, a little arrogance, some humbling, and even some tears.
The tears were more suprising to me. I'm an empathetic person, caring and kind, but with this vast virtual world of the internet, feelings and emotions - especially those which brings tears - are far and few between for me. Ahh, but I've been selfish with DCSG...cherry picking the best information and laughs and using the group when necessary. Not malicious, but somehow unfair to those who put so much time and effort to keep this group what is has been and allowing it to grow to where it is.
During this past year, I've been almost riveted in my seat reading Nicole's blog about breast cancer and her journey. Frozen sometimes. She once asked us to share how her blog and experience might have affected us and I literally froze. Me!? I couldn't get it out. I didn't even know what I was trying to get out. It felt scary and ugly and made me emotional and I didn't understand why. I felt that the blog was so personal and I was sneaking and reading someone's diary when I shouldn't. I didn't want to hear about her pain, but I couldn't stop reading. I wondered why I read about the boyfriend one day and then thereafter I didn't and I was scared to ask - but I wanted to know. I constantly looked down at my (not so big) breasts and realized that I never gave them much thought - not really any consideration. My breast are moderate in size - big enough to have cleavage - small and high enough to go braless. I thought them cute and functional.
Just being 37, I didn't have a requirement to get an annual mammogram. I'd had a fibroid adenoma when I was in high school, so I half-heartedly performed self-exams and went for my yearly pap/exam checkups so I never bothered. I'll wait til I'm 40 I said.
So a little over a month ago, I found a lump during one of my shower self-exams. And I kept feeling and feeling and pressing it to make sure that I wasn't freaking myself out in some way. And there it was - pretty large and defined and just....there. I asked my husband to come take a feel and he said he felt it too. And I lost it. I don't know why but I FREAKED OUT. I remember telling myself if only I'd call Nicole or sent her that damn purse she wanted or bought her that Kindle like I wanted to or simply responded to her request on how this affected us. I remembered feeling sad - not pity - but just a great sadness for her but mostly and selfishly just scared for me.
I scheduled my doctor's visit and when I arrived I told myself over and over not to cry. But as soon as I saw my doctor's face I just burst in tears. She was a little taken aback to say the least, LOL, but when she realized why I was there, she moved quickly to sooth me and proceeded with her examination. And that's when she told me that I was going to have to have a mammogram because there was definitely SOMETHING there. So I scheduled my appointment for a week and a half later (May 11). During this time, all I kept thinking about was this SOMETHING. I would find myself absently rubbing on it while watching tv or in my office. I would read everything that I could about lumps and bumps and borrowed Dr. Susan Love's Breast Book from a friend of mine.
And then I went back and read Nicole's blog from the beginning. And I laughed and cried and cried some more and laughed again and smiled and then cried some more.
I went in for my mammogram this Monday. My husband came but wasn't allowed "in the back" as it's for ladies' only. When I went back and undressed and sat waiting in my gown, I looked around at all the other girls/women there and wondered - is she like me wondering? Is she a survivor? Is this just her check up?
I didn't know so I didn't speak to anyone for fear that I would upset someone. So I sat quietly and then thought of all the times that Nicole has gone through this and all the sitting and waiting and wondering and pondering and I think that's when it hit me.
I didn't realize why I was so scared and quiet through Nicole's experience. But the only way that I know how to say this is to just say it. When faced with someone else's mortality you are often faced with your own. And I just wasn't ready. I don't know if some of us are, more so than others, I don't know if it's because of guilt or fear of the unknown. It reminds me of people who say that they wouldn't want one of those virtual body scans because they really wouldn't want to know if something was "wrong".
If someone could tell you when "the end" was going to be for you - would you really want to know? Well, I didn't and I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think of leaving my son alone with no family (outside of my husband who is not his father) or just not being. I wasn't prepared to face that. And I don't think I'm strong; Nicole often said that she didn't think she was or that maybe that phrase was annoying in some way, but I have to disagree. Strong is the spirit within you that makes you stand up and face the world and everything that it brings you. Nicole has been and is strong enough to not only face these issues, but to share them with us?! Do you know the gift that she's given you?
So I had my mammogram. It was uncomfortable. It was not painful. And it was not cancer. It was a cyst - fluid filled and taken care of right there by the radiologist.
And I wanted to share this and to thank you, Nicole, because I don't know if I would have taken it seriously or gone to the doctor or had a mammogram or checking myself each month if it wasn't for you and what you've shared. I don't know if I would have made that living will in November or told my mother how much she really meant to me if it wasn't for you encouraging us and reminding us of those we love.
So this is my ode to you and to share with you what your gift of story has done for me. I'm so glad that things seem to be turning a corner for the best in your journey. I'm so grateful to you for just being you and sharing yourself and your joy (and sorrows) with me.
Be Blessed!!!!
Div aka Sharon
*DCSG (DC Sistagirls) is an online social networking group of professional African-American women. While based in DC, the group is open to black women anywhere. We have moved from our original yahoo group and now meet on Facebook. If you're interested in joining the group, check us out here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/dcsistagirls/
Wayman Tisdale died today. He was 44 and had bone cancer. He was a former NBA star and a world-known jazz artist. And though I have never crossed paths with him in my life... my heart is heavy with ache for his family. I was going to share a link of a video of him from last September. He had just had his leg amputated and was on the video talking about how good he felt and how much more life he was looking forward to living.
And now... just a few months later, he's gone. Now, Wayman lived a life that many folks dream of. He lived large... just making it to the NBA is huge. But to make it to the NBA and then have a follow-up career as a jazz musician...wow. That's like hitting the lottery twice.
Today has been a day of cancer-reflection and thought. As I mentioned, I have two events this weekend where I will be discussing my breast cancer journey. And, to my surprise, I read a very touching email message this morning that detailed a sister's brief journey after discovering a lump in her breast. (if she gives me permission, I'll post it here) She credited me and my blog with helping her to take the lump seriously and checking it out quickly. Thankfully her lump wasn't cancerous - and that's usually the case - but I was most thankful that she even thought to check it out.
I titled today's entry "nothing left to say" for a couple of reasons. One, this song is one of my favorite songs at the moment. Two, sometimes there really isn't anything left to say in a particular situation. And three... often times we don't expect there to be an ending to what we have in our lives. But, there is always an ending. What's important is how we prepare for the end and how we decide to let things go.
The song is about a break-up and he details how they talked and heard each other but failed to communicate. How the things that he loved about her were the things that ultimately pushed him away. And that made me think of myself and how I'm embracing the changes that breast cancer has forced me to make. Like, no longer procrastinating about doing those things that bring me joy. Making sure to keep myself surrounded by people who love and support me and keeping those people who drain me or upset me at arm's length. Realizing that life is short but while I'm here, I deserve to enjoy every moment. I'm tired of feeling like "I can't afford it" or "I'm not ready for that". Dying at 44, I'm sure wasn't on Wayman's list of "things I can do". But, everything that I've ever read about the man tells me that he had an amazing life full of things he really wanted to do. He leaves behind a wife and 4 kids and millions of fans.
My birthday brunch/lunch ended up being more of an early dinner. (laughs) Only one person was at the restaurant on time and it wasn't me. My party came in slowly over the course of about 1.5 hours. It was crazy... but funny. We ended up converging on the bar area for while because the restaurant would not seat us until a large portion of the group had arrived. Utter madness.
I'm not much of a stickler about time normally... but I was even more laid back about it than even I would have believed I could be. Though it wasn't expected, it was kind of cool that everyone was late because it gave me an opportunity to speak to each person individually, to hug and kiss them... and to just be with them for a moment. I'm not sure that I would have been able to do that if everyone was on time.
We laughed, had great conversation, took pictures, LAUGHED some more and generally created a jovial ruckus at the restaurant. We had a great time. I ended up wearing a pantsuit because I couldn't find a dress I liked. The suit was nice and it was comfortable but the shoes I picked - while cute were wrong, wrong... wrong. Could not walk in those bad boys. Lost my balance twice before I took them off and put them in my purse. (laughs)
I realize that everyone isn't like me... but I absolutely love celebrating my birthday every year in a nice way. This year was really great. The people who came were all people who mean a lot to me, people that by being fully and authentically themselves have taught me to be the same. Folks who are so good to me with the gift of their friendship, love and guidance that they make me want to be the best me I can be. There were people who were missing but I firmly believe that we are all where we're supposed to be no matter where we are. My birthday was supposed to be celebrated when it was, how it was and with that exact group of people.
The beauty of the celebration was the absolute joy of being in the presence of so much love. It didn't hurt that my friends are outspoken and easy to get along with. That took pressure off me to try to engage everyone with conversation. I didn't have to do a thing but look around me and enjoy the blessings of great friendships. I was very much in the moment and not stressing about my illness.
Lately my sleep has been fitful and short. But more than that, I've been having really vivid dreams -- not quite nightmares but about as close as you can get. Some of the dreams have led me to think long and hard about my own death, and also my own funeral and what that might be like. Morbid, I know but I'm being honest. I'm in no hurry for death to happen but I have been thinking about it lately. Seeing my friends together for a happy occasion was beautiful and it soothed my heart immensely.
Hey... we're all going to die one day. It will probably not be when we want, or where we want or even how we want. But, since I know that the day will come I want to make the most of the days I do have. Days like Saturday push that positive urge forward.
I have moments when I feel compelled to tell people - total strangers - that I'm fighting breast cancer. I can't explain it. I don't know if I want their understanding or pity... or if I just think that they care or need to know. But the urge is always just under my skin, just on the tip of my tongue. However on Saturday, surrounded by people who love me and know my story... it was a non-issue. The release of that burden was worth every minute I stressed about getting together, the time we spent waiting to be seated... and my trying to eat too-spicy food. It was WORTH IT, to not be solely present in my "I-have-breast-cancer-fear" for a few hours.
On reflection, I can't tell you what I did exactly. Maybe it was just being out. Or trying to walk in 5 inch heels. Or possibly the non-stop laughter for hours and hours... but whatever it was that I did... I was absolutely sore and totally worn out on Sunday. But it was a good fatigue and ache.
I tried to keep the event small because I did not want to overextend myself. Considering how tired I was on Sunday, I made a good choice. But, I will have to make more efforts to see all of my friends and family this year. It truly did my heart good to spend quality time celebrating life.
I am alive. Life will not always be what you want it to be. And you can expect a curveball to come your way when you're least prepared for it. But even with that, I know now that I am okay.
The link didn't show up in the previous post and I wanted to ensure that if you wanted to donate, you could do so.
A 5k isn't very long. Its just about 3 miles. But while that seemed like a short stretch of road a few months ago, today... its a real challenge to consider walking that far. But I plan to be there, with my pink shirt and my sneakers... ready to tackle the challenge.
I hope that I can count on your help too. If not for me -- just pick any one of the millions of women and men who are living with breast cancer now. Or consider the approximately 250,000 new diagnoses that will happen this year alone.
And now... imagine all of us CURED FOREVER.
That's why we need your donations. That last image in your mind. A cure.
Hot damn I made it! I'm 40 today... and it feels SO GOOD to be alive.
As usual, I'm awake in the middle of the night because these doggone hot flashes are giving me fits and my sleeping pills make me nauseous.
I spent a portion of yesterday in prayer and reflection. Just thinking about the past 40 years; the good times, the bad times and all that other stuff in the middle.
I'm here. My heart is overflowing right now because... I'm still here.
I'm feeling a lot of things but I'm finding it difficult to articulate them right now. So... I'll just say that I am ever so grateful for every person who helped to get me to this point. Family, friends... medical staff... strangers on twitter. (laughs) All of you.
THANK YOU. (from the bottom of my heart)
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The Susan G. Komen Foundation will be holding a 5k Race for the Cure in DC on Saturday, June 6th. I've signed up and created a team -- DC Sistagirls. We're going to walk 5 kilometers to raise money and bring more awareness to breast cancer. I'm accepting donations on behalf of the team and myself from now until race day. If you would like to donate, or join the team and walk with us, please click this link to donate or register.
The research for a cure and for better treatments is necessary. The treatment I received is more advanced than the treatment another woman may have received 10 years ago. And hopefully 10 years from now, treatment won't be necessary because we will have a cure. But until then... millions of men and women are counting on us to help them navigate this scary process.
