The second anniversary of my cancer diagnosis is quickly approaching. Of course it has me thinking. A lot. Not all the thoughts are happy thoughts, but that just comes with the territory.
But some of those thoughts are happy thoughts. Warm, fuzzy, happy thoughts. Like the girls I met because I have cancer.
These are women I would have been proud to count among my friends even before diagnosis, but I can’t imagine a scenario in which I would have met any of them outside of cancer.
This weekend a group of us traveled to New Orleans to a conference for young women with breast cancer. We learned about treatment protocols, late effects of treatment, nutrition, dealing with the impact of cancer treatment in the bedroom, and myriad other topics, and we got to spend time with other women whose lives have been similarly impacted.
Good times, good music, good food, good company…
I think the people with whom we surround ourselves have a huge influence on our happiness. Sure, we all have those people around whom we have to tiptoe and walk on eggshells, but we can dilute their influence with so many more amazing people, people who lift us up and love us for who we really are. I’m so blessed to have such amazing friends – that they understand what I’m going through with cancer because they’ve been there too just makes it that much better.
I’m a very lucky woman.
Of course I still worry about how many years I have left, but even more important than the number of trips you make around the sun is your traveling companions along the way.
I can’t say goodbye to the cancer experience just yet, I’m still dealing with some residual complications, but I am in the process of moving on. I did so much more than deal with cancer in 2011, but it featured prominently in my life.
Before we get to the rest of my life, I did write up a post detailing what a day of radiation treatment is like, which has been quite a popular post over the past year. I hope it helps people who are facing this treatment, and a little nervous about what they are in for. (I also wrote a similar post about chemotherapy.)
Random act of kindness: I received an amazing gift that still brings a smile to my face and checks my attitude every time I use it
Looking Forward
I am so ready to get on with 2012.
I’m not doing resolutions this year, instead I’m picking a couple of words on which to focus as a kind of guiding principle for the year.
I picked “habit” and “kaizen”
The two are related. By habit, I mean I’m going to be intentional about creating healthy habits, slowly and gradually, the same way my bad habits get their start. For instance, I’m gradually improving my diet instead of going on a crash diet cutting out everything at once. Kaizen was a new term to me, meaning small improvements made every day will lead to massive improvements overall. This year is going to be all about incremental, sustainable change.
Do you have any plans, resolutions, or words of the year for 2012?
It’s that time of year when the world is washed in pink, and people prance around in their favorite tongue-in-cheek, boob-aware apparel. But how much awareness does all this bring to the realities of breast cancer, and how much does this just turn our attention to boobs?
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against boobs. I am pro-boob. I was quite attached to mine, till one tried to kill me. Boobs are awesome, an entertaining conversation topic, they bounce, they feed babies, they’re happy, fun playthings. Breast cancer is the Debbie Downer in the room.
But I can’t wish the pink away, not until we find a better way to fund finding a cure. Unfortunately, not only do we have to endure pink every year, but every year breast cancer survivors go out and parade ourselves around to raise money for breast cancer organizations we believe in. Like it or not, the reality is that many good organizations funding research and programs that help women with breast cancer survive depend on October, on the Breast Cancer Awareness Month, the make the majority of their budget for the upcoming year. And yes, the results of that funding has lead to research that led to treatments that beat back my cancer. And those fundraisers brought in money for breast cancer support organizations that helped me survive my treatments. These fundraisers do make a difference when the money goes to the right place.
So as much as we hate it, we put on the pink and we paste on the smile, because these programs helped get us through it, and now we’re paying it forward so those programs can help someone else. BUT, we’re very careful who we support.
Not everything pink forwards money on to organizations that are seeking the cure, or supporting women with breast cancer. There are so many devious programs out there making money hand over fist selling pink items. Some paint an item pink even though it’s a known carcinogen. Some send no money at all. some just bilk the well-meaning of extra cash. They send $1 to a breast cancer org? Sure, but they bumped the price from $5 to $10 before they painted it pink. That little bit of pink is making them an extra $4 a pop, and you’re buying, not because you need it, but because it’s pink. Sometimes it’s more effective to make a direct donation (also tax-deductable) rather than purchasing something just because it’s pink in October.
Yes, awareness is important. Yes, its the once annual reminder to do the self-exam that we should be doing every month. But we also need to spread awareness that young women, even young girls, can get breast cancer. And men, too. And we can’t stop at awareness.
Unfortunately, there are a lot of amazing women who are dying – and they’ve got all kinds of awareness. Awareness is not enough. We need a cure.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen posts or tweets about breastfeeding over the past year that were not just touting the proven benefits of breast feeding, but taking a pointed, judgy stance on the issue. Statements about breastfeeding related facts might be buried in the article, but the hooks? the one-liners? they’re just polarizing rhetoric. They don’t come right out and state that you are a bad mom if you don’t breastfeed, but the wording draws the reader right to that conclusion. Some of the posts and tweets try to get funny with the issue, but they come across with the same message. They probably don’t even have a clue how their message is coming across.
There was another one today; this is an old one that makes it’s rounds every 4 months or so… “True Story: I don’t have to worry about toxins in breastmilk. And there’s never been a recall on my boobs”
My boobs were recalled while I was breastfeeding. And you can bet I lost a lot of sleep over how many cancer cells my baby ingested from breastfeeding before I knew I had cancer.
Dairy Free Fake Boob
Don’t get me wrong. I am completely in favor of breastfeeding. I believe it is the best source of nutrition and immunity support available to a baby. But there are as many valid reasons for not breastfeeding as there are in favor.
There’s no way I could list them all here – there are too many stories out there, and no way I can know them all. Breast cancer stopped me. How about adoptive mothers? Sometimes the breasts just don’t work correctly, they’re not able to produce. Have you ever wondered why the role of wet-nurse was recognized in cultures all throughout history? The world is full of incorrect ideas about AIDS and how it is spread. We stupidly avoid handshakes and hugs, while we overlook the fact that breastmilk is a proven means of spreading HIV. What would you do if you were a breast feeding mother, and found out you might have been exposed to blood borne pathogens at work? Would you stop breast feeding? It has happened.
Breastfeeding in public? I did it for 11 months. Not one incident. I did make sure that I wasn’t flashing around body parts that I wouldn’t flash around if there wasn’t a baby attached. No one was cruel to me about breast feeding in public. I’ve heard it happens, and that’s really too bad. Any awkwardness I experienced was on my own part, trying to figure out how to get the baby attached with limited visibility, etc… It wasn’t about anyone else. No, the comments came after I was no longer able to breastfeed.
If you’re a new mom, you do what’s right for you and your baby. That’s your business, nobody else’s. If breastfeeding is right for you and your baby – do it! If it’s not, don’t.
Getting used to all of the people (even strangers) who suddenly thought my body and my baby were their business was the biggest adjustment for me through pregnancy, and motherhood. Just draw a bubble around yourself, and imagine all the comments and criticisms just bouncing off that bubble. You see, no one is really an expert. Parenting is on the job training, and the skills required are different for each child. That lady who just came over and said she raised 13 kids? She’s not an expert, either. Not an expert on your baby, anyway.
Love your baby. Wake up every morning, and try again. Everything is going to be ok.
I like to joke that no one really knows what I look like without a camera in front of my face. I’m THAT girl at parties: the one who hides behind the camera, capturing moments more than participating. The one who rarely actually appears in photographs…
Put Mom in the Picture
When I was first diagnosed with cancer, this really bothered me. For the first time ever, it was REALLY important to me that I have photos of myself, and photos of myself with my husband and daughter.
I wanted my family to have them – not just in case I died, but also to mark who I am right now, because I’m evolving. My looks are changing daily as my hair grows back. My outlook is changing daily as well; each new day brings a new challenge, and something else at which to marvel.
I’m trying to teach myself photography, and in that process, I spend a lot of time studying the work of some of my favorite photographers. Each has their own unique and identifiable style. What I’m learning is that a picture doesn’t just tell you about the subject matter in the frame, it tells you a whole lot about the photographer. You can see moods, attitude, approach… you can see respect, affection, and love.
The photograph is a record of the world as I see it
That realization eased my mind a bit about my absence from the photographs. I understand now, that I am in all those photographs that I have taken.
The photograph is a record of the world as I see it. It’s an opportunity to look at life through my eyes, to see what I see.
My hope is that someday in the future – when my daughter is 13/16/18/whatever, and mad at me because I wouldn’t let her stay up late/take the car/have my credit card/whatever – that she will, every once in a while, glance at one of the millions of photos I’ve taken of her, and see that the person behind the camera loves her with everything she has to give.
I can see my attitudes in the photos I’ve taken. I can see the difference between the photos taken to simply to document a place, thing, or an occasion, and those that seek out the magic of the moment. Mood, attitude, and approach do make a difference.
The camera bag of my dreams
Long before I had a real DSLR camera, I had my eye on a camera bag. Not just any camera bag, a beautiful camera bag from Epiphanie Bags.
After I was finally able to get my good camera this summer (with some help from my mom – THANKS MOM!), I bookmarked my dream bag, and revisited regularly. But purchasing the bag was out of the question. The price was prohibitive.
Not to long ago, I even posted the link on Facebook with the words, “sigh… someday.”
A couple weeks later that bag appeared at my door.
But here’s the thing: I didn’t order it.
I don’t know who sent it to me. It was delivered by the UPS guy with no note attached.
I laughed, I cried, I jumped up and down and squealed, even scaring my baby a bit till I convinced her it was a happy dance. I am completely in awe of this bag, and the kind, anonymous, generosity that caused it to become mine.
A Sense of Gratitude and Magic
I tear up every time I look at the bag, I also stand a little taller with that beautiful braided strap over my shoulder. That kindness now travels with me everywhere. Each time I reach for my camera, I am reminded of this generosity, and as I look through my lens at the world, I do so with a sense of gratitude and magic, and I hope that will show in my photographs.
Thank you my friend, whoever you are. You have given me so much more than a gorgeous bag to cradle my camera. Bless you.
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!
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