Happy Anniversary

     "Happy Anniversary!" is usually followed by lots of smiles, cheers, and well wishes. Not today...not for me. Today is the one year anniversary of the beginning of the scariest year of my life. A year ago today, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had officially joined a club I had NEVER wanted to belong to.

     I will never forget standing in the small mammogram room and hearing the doctor say, "You have Ductal Carcinoma in Situ."

 

Carcinoma... that word bounced around in my head.

 

CARCINOMA...CANCER.  

 

How could that be? I didn't even have a lump!

 

My head was swimming and my stomach was churning as I realized I had just become the 1 out of 8. (One out of every eight women will get breast cancer.)

     Within days of finding out I had breast cancer, I found myself in a flurry of medical activity involving biopsies, ports, surgeons, oncologists, nurse navigators, pathologists, radiation oncologists, chemo classes, PA's and nurse practitioners. I also found out my cancer wasn't just DCIS. It was much worse.

 

 Cancer had just turned my life up-side down.

     I have always believe that knowledge equals power so I began reading voraciously to find out as much as I could about the specific kind of breast cancer I had. Armed with that knowledge, and feeling comfortable with the doctors I had chosen at Roger Maris Cancer Center, I began this year-long venture to be cured.

     Becoming a breast cancer survivor is bound to teach you a few life lessons.  I have learned so much! Some things I could have done without (nausea, diarrhea, ER visits, mouth sores, severe muscle aches, and the "hairless Chihuahua" look!!!) but others have been true blessings.

 

I have learned that so many people care about me and my family. All of us, Arland, Kristi, Bob, Katie, their spouses, and I have been supported by well wishes and prayers by so many. My friends (both teacher friends and non-teachers) have been amazing. They have sent a multitude of cards, given much needed hugs, sent flowers, emailed, delivered food during chemo, texted, called just to chat and stopped by our house to visit. This tremendous support has helped me heal, physically and emotionally. It also has helped Arland and our kids cope.

     I have also learned that most of the time, fear is worse than the cause... fear of the unknown, fear of the treatments, fear of "what if it comes back", fear of the pain. Cancer brings with it soooo many fears.

     And now, one year later, I believe I am doing vey well! I am back to doing most everything I was doing a year ago before cancer invaded my life. Stamina and getting all my blood counts back up to normal are areas that are still lacking. Slowly but surely, I WILL get there!!!

 

It's an amazing feeling to be a survivor!

     I have shared my story very publically and allowed everyone to fight the fight along side me. Cancer was an awful thing but I look at it as a speed bump: It may have forced me to slow down but it didn't ever cause me to loose hope! Now, I am excited to get back to living. It's almost spring, treatments are nearly over, I am in a good place, and I am happy to be here.  

     I am so proud of and grateful to my family and friends. Just saying "Thank you" is simply not enough. I'm not sure what I can do or say to feel like it would be enough. Until I figure that out, I will simply say, "THANK YOU for being a true friend!!!"

 

 

 

               



 

The Unspoken Words

 

     No one had said them yet. No one had uttered the words that would absolve me from carrying the burden of cancer.  And then he spoke those few simple words.

 

What started out as a routine doctor's visit quickly turned into one of the moments I will remember for the rest of my life.

     Dr. Foster, my radiation oncologist, is a quiet, professional man. There is not much chit-chat at these appointments. This visit was a three month follow-up to ensure my radiation burns had healed well. After my short exam was completed, he was ready to see his next patient. 

 

As he stood and walked towards the door, he passed me while I sat on the exam table. He paused, put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye, and said something that took my breath away. He left before he saw my tears. 

    "Congratulations on being cancer-free!"

     I was shocked. His pronouncement was totally unexpected. Tears sprang to my eyes as the realization of his words settled in....cancer-free!

     I have not cried very much since my diagnosis last March and I had certainly never cried before at any of my doctor appointments. Crying takes so much energy and I felt like I wanted, NEEDED, to keep every ounce of energy to fight the battles I was facing.

 

But now the tears wouldn't stop. They weren't the sobbing kind...just quiet streams trickling down my face. I tried to wipe them away so I could get through the waiting room to the privacy of my car. I'm sure more than one person in the waiting room thought I had just received some very bad news.

 The bitter cold outside helped me get some perspective so I could drive home.

     After mulling over his five simple words, I realize my tears were the silent language of thankfulness. Up until then, I had been living in a limbo of "have cancer" or "had cancer". Now, I was given permission to use the past tense...had. 

 

Those tears were tears of relief. They were tears of joy. They were tears of hope. They were tears of gratitude that this part of my year long journey is winding down.

 

I Am Enjoying "The Shade"

     Tonight as I was reading a monthly newsletter we receive, I read this quote:

"When in the sun, my wings can be display'd,

And in retirement, I can bless the shade."

~ Anne Kingsmill Finch

 

     "Bless the shade"...both Arland and I certainly have been doing just that! We are enjoying retirement very much, even though we both technically have a "job"! His job takes him to LOTS of meetings. Mine takes me into the world of a 20 month-old's life...we play...all day!  :-)

     I saw my oncologist, Dr. Terstriep, last Wednesday. I will be seeing her every nine weeks until I am done with my Herceptin infusions, which will be the last day of April. I cannot believe the end is within sight!

 

Now, all I have to do is hope and pray for are no recurrences which could show up in either my breasts, bones, lungs or brain. Those are the most common sites for the kind of breast cancer I have to reoccur.

 

     My labs from Wednesday revealed that my red blood count, hemoglobin, and hematocrit are all still a little below where they should be, even though I am taking two kinds of vitamins to help boost my blood counts. Dr. Terstriep is not worried about that so I will trust her expertise. It just takes time, I guess! Other than that, I had a great check-up! I am beginning to feel stronger and have more stamina than a month ago.

     Life is good!