We got a couple days of rain last week, so I went out to see if I could get some good shots of the water collecting on the grasses.
This last shot with the spider reminded me that Halloween is quickly approaching. Have you figured out what you are going to do for a costume yet?
Last year, with my bald head, grey skin, and chemo port sticking out of my chest, I decided it was the perfect opportunity to dress up as Borg. I had the costume pretty much ready to go, but I was so sick on Halloween, it just didn’t happen. They say you regret the things you didn’t do the most, I think not dressing up as a Borg will be one of those life long regrets.
Did someone just call me a nerd?
My post chemo hair is growing back with a lot more curl than I’m accustomed to. I was so looking forward to a cute short hairstyle like Winona Ryder or Natalie Portman or Emma Watson. But, no, no, no, I get Seth Rogan hair. That hair, combined with with additional weight from the steroids makes me think maybe I should just toss on a pair of sweats and and fake beard and go as Seth Rogan. No? My husband doesn’t think so either. I’ll think of something else.
This month you made your international television debut on CNN!
This story was about Debbie Cantwell, another woman who survived breast cancer. She went on to build an organization to help other young women with breast cancer. She helped us by hiring someone to come clean our home when I was tired and weak from the treatments. Now she is being honored as a CNN Hero, and I jumped at the opportunity to thank her, and tell the world how critical her help was. [Full Story]
You were so cute, but I wish I’d made you sit still before-hand, so I could get a better part in your hair.
Then, a few days later, they came out with another video, this time it was longer, and showed even more of you…
The whole production was so much fun, and the team that came out to interview us was really nice, and set us all at ease right off the bat. Anytime you get a chance to stand up and say thank you – grab it!
We’ve had other big developments this month as well. We moved into a new apartment. It’s quite a bit smaller than our old place, but you love it. For one thing, you get quite a bit more freedom to run around the house than I allowed you in the old place, and you get to spend more time playing unsupervised in your bedroom. Some of that is out of necessity.
For instance, you graduated from a crib to a big-girl toddler bed.
I love listening to your non-stop chatter over the baby monitor. One day I heard: “keep trying, keep trying” and “try it again.” When I became a Mommy, I was granted eyes in the back of my head, and the ability to see through walls; I knew exactly what you were doing. I went into your room and sure enough, there you were perched on top of the crib railing making your escape. No more crib for you.
Unfortunately, you are also quite skilled at opening doors, and know exactly what to do with a deadbolt. I’m sure our attempts to keep you from wandering away would fail the fire marshal’s standards for ease of egress, but a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do. I’m certain a fire marshal with a 2 year old would understand.
Your happy place here in our new home seems to be mommy and daddy’s bed. Whenever you get quiet and disappear, that’s the first place I look. There you are, perched in the middle of our bed surrounded with your books and babies. And a couple times a day you will take me by the hand and lead me in there and ask to “sluggle.” How can I say no to that? When I go to bed at night, the first step is emptying our bed of your playthings so there is room for me to lie down.
You sing all the time. You make up little songs, but most of the time you just sing a running report of what you happen to be doing at the moment. I have often heard you singing: “sitting in a chair, sitting in a chair…”
Your language skills are really blossoming, but sometimes it takes a little time to figure out what you mean. The other day you came to me and asked me to: “rescue it, the pie cake?” I could not for the life of me figure that one out, until eventually, like Lassie leading Timmy to the well, you brought me to your bedroom and looked hard at the register under the window. So I looked too.
Sure enough, there was a pancake (pie cake) stuck in the register, along with a few crayons. Maybe we need to rethink the unsupervised playtime in your bedroom. Also, we need to figure out how to childproof that register, because it get’s really hot. I know it gets really hot because the thermostat is within your reach. Maybe we need to rethink those ease of egress issues, too.
I don’t image this post is going to garner me any mom of the year awards, but that’s not the point anyway.
I’m just doing the best I can, just like most of the other parents out there.
Someday you might find yourself in the same boat. Parenting isn’t full of easy, one-size-fits-all answers. It’s hard, and sometimes you feel like there is no right answer. Parenting is trial by fire, learn on the job, and there is no way to know if you’re doing the right thing. It’s also the most fun I’ve ever had.
I am so ready to get on with my life, but first I want to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who helped get me through the past 16 months since my diagnosis.
1. Gem
Look at that face. She is such a powerful motivator. And sweet, too.
No matter how rough things got, she was enough to get me out of bed – Even if that meant just going to the living room, and cuddling up with her on the floor.
It’s amazing how much she has grown up through this ordeal. Here she is just a week before I was diagnosed:
2. My Husband, Aaron
Aaron is my biggest cheerleader, the one who kept telling me that I CAN do this. He was the one who held me when I cried, and told me he would still love me no matter what, and made me feel sexy even missing a boob.
He wouldn’t let me get depressed, and he fills my life with music.
3. Mom
My mom was the one I could count on to drop everything, and come running at a moment’s notice
4. Friends who formed a little army of volunteers
Kristen, Mary Jane, Diane, Sommer, Carrie, Candice, Tim, Mel, Sharon, and Perry – I can’t begin to describe how much you helped me. From bringing meals, to babysitting Gem, to washing dishes, to just sitting with me or taking me outside for a walk, you really helped to carry me through.
5. The young women of the Young Survival Coalition
It’s one thing to experience sympathy and empathy, but nothing helps like meeting others who understand because they’ve been there. I have written about the Young Survival Coalition before, and I’m sure I will do so again and again and again going forward. These girls are my confidants, my hand-holders, my glass of wine with a side of giggles, and my sneaking out from a vegetarian retreat to bring back a side of bacon.
5. Debbie Cantwell and The Pink Daisy Project
A breast cancer survivor herself, Debbie started The Pink Daisy Project to help other young women deal with the overwhelming facts of everyday life that pile up while battling this disease. She came to my rescue by sending grocery cards so I could buy diapers, and hired a cleaning crew when I was too sick to deal with housekeeping. Debbie is truly a hero. Stay tuned: I’ll have more to say about Debbie in future posts. 🙂
6. Delia
Dee is one of my oldest friends, and she’s been there for me through thick and thin. When I was diagnosed, she flew out to be here with me during my mastectomy. She helped whip my house into shape while I was recovering, and watched the baby, and helped in too many ways to list in one post. She’s another one of those people that I can count on no matter what.
7. Old and New Friends; Some I’ve Never Met
Social media is an amazing phenomenon, and it has had a profound effect on my life. It’s brought me back into contact with old friends I haven’t seen in more than two decades, and it has introduced me to new friends, some I speak with every day, but have yet to meet face to face. These friends have followed me through the ups and downs, provided encouragement, hope, sometimes a little gift or cash, an ear, a shoulder – and often at 3 in the morning, when normal people aren’t available.
…
So now I’m done with treatment. I’m still contending with some of the side effects. I have some neuropathy, the fatigue is still slowing me down, and I’m typing with one hand because my arm is bound up to treat the lymphedema. But these are little, non-life-threatening issues, and we can deal with that.
Right now, my heart is just full of gratitude.
Now, we are looking forward. We are looking forward to Aaron getting a job. We are looking forward to me finishing my degree. We are looking forward to Gem being potty trained, and learning to read, and getting ready for pre-school. We are looking forward to a long, happy, and healthy life together.
I think there should be some kind of trophy, or medal, or certificate of achievement, something anyway to mark the completion of cancer treatment. I understand why it’s not done, but nonetheless it seems like all this hard work and endurance should reach some point of crescendo, a climax, a triumphant overcoming of the evil beast rather than just sputtering out at the end with a casual “have a nice life.”
I have Herceptin infusions scheduled every three weeks for several months. One of those appointments was today. Today was a rough day; one of those days where everything seems a little more complicated than it should be. Keys are lost, things forgotten, I trip over my own feet, and I’m just doing good to remember where I am, and where I’m going. But I did manage to make it to the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance on time to have my port tapped for the blood draw.
After the blood draw we had the standard 2 hour wait till the doctor appointment, followed by my Herceptin infusion. Or so I thought. A long boring wait only to find out when we checked in that we missed the appointment; it was scheduled for an hour earlier. It took several phone calls and discussions between staff members, but they were able to squeeze me, and my now slightly elevated blood-pressure in.
Right off the bat, my doctor asked me if I want to have another baby. “I can refer you to our fertility specialist, if you would like.” Wait. What?
That was the farthest thing from my brain at the moment. I’d love for Gem to have a sibling, but I’ve been so focused on beating cancer, and moving mom out of her apartment, and the trip to Alaska, and then moving us out of our apartment that thoughts of baby-making, aside from the semi-regular baby-making practice, have not been on the agenda. I really thought this appointment would be more about the wheezing and extreme heaviness in my chest I have been experiencing since we moved into our new apartment.
Which I told her. So she listened to my lungs and wrote an order for a chest x-ray to make sure the cancer had not spread.
Then she proceeded to tell me that today would be my last treatment.
Wait. What?
I’ve got months of treatment left. Besides, if this was my last treatment, I would have baked brownies for everyone and scheduled a party or something. I love my doctor, I love my nurses – I want to celebrate and thank them. She looked back at the chart, checked again, yup, today would be my last treatment. I’m done. We’ll just cancel the extra appointments.
Then I was whisked off to infusion for the treatment, which was pushed through faster than usual so I could run down to radiology and get the xray in quick before they closed for the day. While all this was happening, the baby blew out her diaper, so my still-fearful-of-poopie-even-though-he’s-been-a-father-for-two-years husband had to deal with a very cranky toddler with more poop than her diaper could handle and not enough wet wipes on the planet while I proceeded to lose my cell phone running between appointments.
We finally got everyone back together and mostly cleaned up and in the car stuck smack dab in the middle of Seattle 5pm downtown gridlock when I discovered the missing phone. The phone they were going to call with the results of the scan.
…
Finally, we’re home. We have the phone, which no one has called. It’s 8 pm and no results yet. No news is good news, right?
So, either I’m done with cancer treatment- or I’m not, and in a very bad way.
I feel like I should be celebrating right now, but I’m more stunned than anything.
UPDATE: results are in – XRAY IS CLEAR! I’m done with treatment!
My goodness, you are such an adaptable little girl.
This month has been crazy with Mommy pulling all-nighters finishing up her semester at school, then every day spent at Grandma’s packing her home up for the move to Alaska (finally done with those two items. yay!). And now Daddy is pulling all-nighters to finish the requirements for his degree and grade his students’ papers, not to mention all the work he put into organizing the Conference on Near and Middle East Studies. Then once we got Grandma moved out of her home, she’s been staying with us and sharing a bedroom with you.
That’s a lot of change, and a lot of chaos for a little girl to deal with, and you have handled it beautifully. You just keep finding ways to explore and have fun in whatever new environment or situation you find yourself in.
Hold on to that adaptability. Embrace it. That sense of adventure, that ability to find joy in any situation, the ability to adapt and continue to thrive in new situations, even if they are less than ideal, is the key to happiness.
It is so easy for us to fixate on things we can’t control. But that won’t fix anything, and it just makes you miserable. Focus on the things you can control, and keep up this practice of looking for joy wherever you are. You will find it.
The next few weeks will provide you with many more opportunities to practice adaptability. We’re getting ready to hit the road in a few hours for a very long trip. We’re going to drive through Canada up to Alaska to take Grandma to go live up there. This will be your first trip to Alaska, and the return will be your first flight.
And if that were not enough, as soon as we get back to Seattle, we are moving to a new home, too.
I can’t wait to share this great adventure with you!
I guess it’s time for another update on the whole kicking-cancer’s-ass and getting-on-with-my-life situation.
Let me e’splain.
No, there’s too much. Let me sum up.
The Ugly
I finished up the radiation treatments and my skin is feeling much better, although it still looks dirty and scaly in a big square-shaped patch across my chest and collarbone. It’s not too much of a problem, although I look like I missed a spot while bathing if I wear a v-neck, or anything with a lower than crew-neck collar. That’s all fine though, and it will fade with time.
I just have a handful of Herceptin treatments left, and I’m done with scheduled treatment altogether! And my hair has grown back enough for me to have bad hair days frequently! Anna, I’ll be giving you a call soon so you can whip my poor confused locks into shape.
My lymphedema is not really under control, so I’m going to have to get (even more) serious about dealing with that, and find some time (and $) for more physical therapy treatments. The swelling isn’t too bad at the moment, but the pain is getting worse, and it makes my right arm essentially useless, even for little things like writing more than a couple sentences by hand. One of the best things I can do for my arm is not lift heavy things, but more on that later. I’ll also need more lymphedema sleeves and gloves (very pricey) as mine are getting stretched out and not snapping back into shape anymore.
The Bad
The side effect that is having the biggest impact on my life right now is fatigue. It just seems like it should have lifted a bit by now, but it keeps getting worse. Part of the problem: I went back to school full time in January, and that may have been a bit too soon. I was determined, and I decided that cancer had sidelined my life long enough. So back I went. Full time. Why? Because I hadn’t been challenged enough lately? That semester kicked my ass, and by the time it was over, I felt like I just wanted to sleep for a month. (I did manage to pass all my classes, but I have never in my life been so happy to get a C.)
But no rest for me.
Aaron graduates with his Master’s Degree at the end of this quarter (that part isn’t bad, in fact it’s awesome!!), which means we need to be out of the school provided apartment, and get one of our own. So house hunting commences. And packing. And job hunting. And how do you get an apartment when you don’t have a job yet?
Also.
Mom is moving back to Alaska to live with my brother, and somebody has to pack up her apartment (hi). She wants to be completely out of her apartment by next week, then she will live with us a couple weeks until we hit the road to drive to Alaska.
The Good
Did you catch that “WE hit the road” part? Yeah, Gem and I are driving up to Alaska with mom! So Aaron can finish classes (teaching AND as a student), hunt for an apartment if we haven’t found one yet, hunt for a job, and finish packing up the house while the baby and I are on vacation. Then we’ll move into the new place as soon as we get back, just a few days before our vacate deadline for this apartment.
I’m really excited about this trip, and I have so many old friends in Alaska that I dearly miss and can’t wait to see again. Most of them haven’t even met my daughter yet. Brace yourself for this blog becoming a bit of a travelogue in the near future. I’ve been known to take a few pictures while on vacation.
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