Thursday, September 29, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Day 157 - continued
So after the consultation I called Doug to tell him the details of my mastectomy.
His reply, "This is really sad".
And I have never loved him more than in that moment.
His reply, "This is really sad".
And I have never loved him more than in that moment.
Day 157 - yes they are fake, my real ones tried to kill me
Had my plastic surgery consultation today - 2 hours of bobbie talk.
We ran through the typical heath questions. There was a slight pause at my age (41). My Dr. looked up and said, "you seem much younger".
To which I replied, "It must be the acne" (remember how I said my skin was breaking out? Believe me it really is).
He just laughed (yeah!).
Then things got pretty intense, fast. I was alarmed at first when he said that I would likely have radiation after surgery. (lymph node situation).
The problem with radiation is that it doesn't play nice with your soft tissues, and makes reconstruction a little trickier.
Dr. Z explained that with chemo your body eliminates what it doesn't need, and there is no sign that the chemo was ever actually there. Cancer cells may beg to differ but you get the point.
With radiation your body doesn't really feel the same way. He made some reference to Hiroshima and Geiger counters and I started to get woozy.
Bottom line, there is still radiation in Hiroshima, and there will still be radiation in me...plus something to do with skin loosing elasticity?
So I guess would rather not ever have to have radiation. But if you do, it kills everything in its path, most importantly cancer cells.
Dr. Z is a bit of an odds maker - so he feels I am 60/40. 60% chance of needing radiation.
But we won't know until after surgery...I just love the suspense.
Next was the discussion of types of reconstruction available. I had been reading up on this for a while, so I kind of knew my options.
Basically your choices here are using your own fat from your tummy, or an implant. I thought, sign me up for the tummy fat removal!
No dice there - seems that I don't have enough transplantable material. Kristy offered up some of hers but that was a non starter.
Implants it is.
Lastly my Dr. went to 2nd base with me - in front of a nurse and my sister no less!
Measurements were taken, arms raised, murmuring.
And then my first topless photo shoot.
All before noon.
We ran through the typical heath questions. There was a slight pause at my age (41). My Dr. looked up and said, "you seem much younger".
To which I replied, "It must be the acne" (remember how I said my skin was breaking out? Believe me it really is).
He just laughed (yeah!).
Then things got pretty intense, fast. I was alarmed at first when he said that I would likely have radiation after surgery. (lymph node situation).
The problem with radiation is that it doesn't play nice with your soft tissues, and makes reconstruction a little trickier.
Dr. Z explained that with chemo your body eliminates what it doesn't need, and there is no sign that the chemo was ever actually there. Cancer cells may beg to differ but you get the point.
With radiation your body doesn't really feel the same way. He made some reference to Hiroshima and Geiger counters and I started to get woozy.
Bottom line, there is still radiation in Hiroshima, and there will still be radiation in me...plus something to do with skin loosing elasticity?
So I guess would rather not ever have to have radiation. But if you do, it kills everything in its path, most importantly cancer cells.
Dr. Z is a bit of an odds maker - so he feels I am 60/40. 60% chance of needing radiation.
But we won't know until after surgery...I just love the suspense.
Next was the discussion of types of reconstruction available. I had been reading up on this for a while, so I kind of knew my options.
Basically your choices here are using your own fat from your tummy, or an implant. I thought, sign me up for the tummy fat removal!
No dice there - seems that I don't have enough transplantable material. Kristy offered up some of hers but that was a non starter.
Implants it is.
Lastly my Dr. went to 2nd base with me - in front of a nurse and my sister no less!
Measurements were taken, arms raised, murmuring.
And then my first topless photo shoot.
All before noon.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Day 156
I have been impossible to live with for the last week. I can't believe any members of my family are still speaking with me.
It is so bad that I apologized to Doug for my grumpiness today.
He told me he hadn't noticed anything. That he imagines that I am having a little anxiety over chemo finally coming to an end. And that I need to just get to that day and work as hard as I can to rid my body of any excess chemo before my surgery.
Subconsciously I think I am afraid for my surgery. Not so much for the procedure, but for the results. I just want everything to be ok.
I want zero cancer in my body.
It is so bad that I apologized to Doug for my grumpiness today.
He told me he hadn't noticed anything. That he imagines that I am having a little anxiety over chemo finally coming to an end. And that I need to just get to that day and work as hard as I can to rid my body of any excess chemo before my surgery.
Subconsciously I think I am afraid for my surgery. Not so much for the procedure, but for the results. I just want everything to be ok.
I want zero cancer in my body.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Day 155 - the phone
I am not a fan of the telephone. Never was one to talk on the phone for all hours of the day.
Sure I like to catch up with friends and family who don't live in Portland, but the phone leaves much to be desired.
We don't have a home phone, gave up on land lines years ago. My kids actually think a house phone plugged into the wall is, "old fashioned".
So when my phone rang today, as I was sitting in a meeting, and I saw my Dr.'s name pop up, my heart sort of skipped a beat.
I thought to myself, why would they be calling?
Did I have any tests done lately?
no.
Was there some news I was waiting for?
no.
I played this game for a while - tourturing myself, and then I picked up the phone and dialed.
My surgon wanted to go through my operation one more time. She wanted to confirm all the details, give me my call time, etc.
I will say that Bilateral Mastectomy gave me pause.
This is really happening, I really have cancer I thought.
Crazy I know, considering I have 15 chemo treatments behind me. But lately the chemo, and the weight of all we have been through has begun accumulating.
Only a little longer - come Thanksgiving we will have a lot to be thankful for.
Sure I like to catch up with friends and family who don't live in Portland, but the phone leaves much to be desired.
We don't have a home phone, gave up on land lines years ago. My kids actually think a house phone plugged into the wall is, "old fashioned".
So when my phone rang today, as I was sitting in a meeting, and I saw my Dr.'s name pop up, my heart sort of skipped a beat.
I thought to myself, why would they be calling?
Did I have any tests done lately?
no.
Was there some news I was waiting for?
no.
I played this game for a while - tourturing myself, and then I picked up the phone and dialed.
My surgon wanted to go through my operation one more time. She wanted to confirm all the details, give me my call time, etc.
I will say that Bilateral Mastectomy gave me pause.
This is really happening, I really have cancer I thought.
Crazy I know, considering I have 15 chemo treatments behind me. But lately the chemo, and the weight of all we have been through has begun accumulating.
Only a little longer - come Thanksgiving we will have a lot to be thankful for.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Day 154 - Rain Rain go away...
I met the bossiest cancer survivor on the planet last night.
Breast cancer survivor, elite athlete, double mastectomy in December.
She had me almost believing that the surgery was a piece of cake, that I wouldn't need to take any pain medications at all, ("I only took an extra strength Tylenol...once").
If I were as competitive as I would like to think I am I would have scoffed at the idea of taking any medicine at all.
Her intensity was matched with her sweetness. She just wanted to light a fire under me and tell me that everything was going to be all right, different, but all right.
To be honest it was a lot to take in on a Saturday night. And it left me a little exhausted.
My latest chemo treatments are wrecking havoc on my skin. I have a pretty intense "rash" on my face that simply looks like a bad case of teenage acne.
A really bad case.
Talk about adding insult to injury.
Someone told me that it is a sign that the chemo is working.
Sort of like a wedding planner reassuring the bride that rain is a sign of luck on her wedding day.
Come to think about it - it did rain on my wedding day.
And everything turned out just fine.
Breast cancer survivor, elite athlete, double mastectomy in December.
She had me almost believing that the surgery was a piece of cake, that I wouldn't need to take any pain medications at all, ("I only took an extra strength Tylenol...once").
If I were as competitive as I would like to think I am I would have scoffed at the idea of taking any medicine at all.
Her intensity was matched with her sweetness. She just wanted to light a fire under me and tell me that everything was going to be all right, different, but all right.
To be honest it was a lot to take in on a Saturday night. And it left me a little exhausted.
My latest chemo treatments are wrecking havoc on my skin. I have a pretty intense "rash" on my face that simply looks like a bad case of teenage acne.
A really bad case.
Talk about adding insult to injury.
Someone told me that it is a sign that the chemo is working.
Sort of like a wedding planner reassuring the bride that rain is a sign of luck on her wedding day.
Come to think about it - it did rain on my wedding day.
And everything turned out just fine.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Day -152 Pretty Girl
Years ago, as part of the "leadership" team at lucy I was required to be phsychoanylized. No joke.
It looked something like this:
Receive a black eye from a two year old night before I am to fly to Arizona and sit with the mysterious Dr. Bud.
Arrive at the office, meet the Dr., receive his credentials (apparently he is the Dr.for the real Hannibal Lector, if you choose to believe his story).
He also tells me that he began his career working with incarcerated females. Many of whom suffered physical abuse.
Long mental pause as my brain realizes my shiner is distracting him.
He says,"You need to explain that black eye".
As I stumble along telling my very innocent story I suddenly become extremely self conscious of my arm and eye movements.
I touch my nose and think, "omg don't liars do that.".
Look up to the left and think, "omg liars totally do that!"
At the end of my story, that I am sure went on way to long, he stares me in the eye and says, "I will tell you at the end of the day if I believe you or not."
Game on.
The session went on forever. If you are that interested buy me a cocktail someday and I will tell you the whole story.
The best part was at the end when I received part of my diagnosis.
Dr. Bud, "You have pretty girl syndrome."
To which I replied, "You must be joking"
He explained that oftentimes the prettiest daughter in the family receives more positive attention from their father than other women in the family.
This results in the, "pretty girl" having an unshakable feeling that she can do anything in the world.
I told Bud the great thing about being my families, "pretty girl" was that I wasn't the only one. Both my sisters suffer from this syndrome as well
And I would say it want just because my dad paid special attention to us. My mom did too.
So to all those parents out there, raise "pretty Girls" and get out of the way.
It looked something like this:
Receive a black eye from a two year old night before I am to fly to Arizona and sit with the mysterious Dr. Bud.
Arrive at the office, meet the Dr., receive his credentials (apparently he is the Dr.for the real Hannibal Lector, if you choose to believe his story).
He also tells me that he began his career working with incarcerated females. Many of whom suffered physical abuse.
Long mental pause as my brain realizes my shiner is distracting him.
He says,"You need to explain that black eye".
As I stumble along telling my very innocent story I suddenly become extremely self conscious of my arm and eye movements.
I touch my nose and think, "omg don't liars do that.".
Look up to the left and think, "omg liars totally do that!"
At the end of my story, that I am sure went on way to long, he stares me in the eye and says, "I will tell you at the end of the day if I believe you or not."
Game on.
The session went on forever. If you are that interested buy me a cocktail someday and I will tell you the whole story.
The best part was at the end when I received part of my diagnosis.
Dr. Bud, "You have pretty girl syndrome."
To which I replied, "You must be joking"
He explained that oftentimes the prettiest daughter in the family receives more positive attention from their father than other women in the family.
This results in the, "pretty girl" having an unshakable feeling that she can do anything in the world.
I told Bud the great thing about being my families, "pretty girl" was that I wasn't the only one. Both my sisters suffer from this syndrome as well
And I would say it want just because my dad paid special attention to us. My mom did too.
So to all those parents out there, raise "pretty Girls" and get out of the way.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Day 151
Can you believe that after tomorrow I only have one chemo treatment left? Me either!
I almost had to cancel it, and once again I blame the universe being board with my cancer.
You see I am in California, flying out of LAX, get to the counter and somehow my reservation has evaporated.
Poof.
The agent basically says I am not booked on the 530pm flight, which I had checked in for over 3 hours ago.
After some sassiness from her, and bossiness from me, a seat magically appeared.
A middle seat.
Cancer has so totally abandoned me. No sympathy, no upgrade, no nothin'.
So ok, I can suck it up for a two hour flight. At least I know the flight attendants will take care of me.
As the drink cart approached, I waited for some love. Only to be met with, "What would you like to drink Sir."
Ouch!
Let's hope things go may way tomorrow.
I almost had to cancel it, and once again I blame the universe being board with my cancer.
You see I am in California, flying out of LAX, get to the counter and somehow my reservation has evaporated.
Poof.
The agent basically says I am not booked on the 530pm flight, which I had checked in for over 3 hours ago.
After some sassiness from her, and bossiness from me, a seat magically appeared.
A middle seat.
Cancer has so totally abandoned me. No sympathy, no upgrade, no nothin'.
So ok, I can suck it up for a two hour flight. At least I know the flight attendants will take care of me.
As the drink cart approached, I waited for some love. Only to be met with, "What would you like to drink Sir."
Ouch!
Let's hope things go may way tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Day 150
Top five signs that I, along with the universe, am over my cancer:
1. Going through airport security I was pulled aside for full terrorist suspect screening. Bags searched, hands swiped, hat removed. Either I looked terminally ill, suggesting I had nothing to live for, or the security guard was a total prick. You guess.
2. My skin is rebelling, big time. Dry patches, acne, cuts that won't heal. I think my body is saying enough is enough.
3. My cancer jokes are so stale, no one finds them funny anymore.
4. Graham showed me his journal where he has begun to keep a tally of my mommy grades. He advised me that I received a check last night because I was being nice mommy. The night before I received a minus because I made him go to bed too early, mean mommy Even my children are beginning to turn on me.
5. My hair is growing back in ernest. And as much as I wanted to be nicknamed Ginger, it seems a more apt name will be Salt and Pepper.
1. Going through airport security I was pulled aside for full terrorist suspect screening. Bags searched, hands swiped, hat removed. Either I looked terminally ill, suggesting I had nothing to live for, or the security guard was a total prick. You guess.
2. My skin is rebelling, big time. Dry patches, acne, cuts that won't heal. I think my body is saying enough is enough.
3. My cancer jokes are so stale, no one finds them funny anymore.
4. Graham showed me his journal where he has begun to keep a tally of my mommy grades. He advised me that I received a check last night because I was being nice mommy. The night before I received a minus because I made him go to bed too early, mean mommy Even my children are beginning to turn on me.
5. My hair is growing back in ernest. And as much as I wanted to be nicknamed Ginger, it seems a more apt name will be Salt and Pepper.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Day 148 - Pause
I took a pause today. Not a mental health day, but just a body slow the heck down day.
When I woke up I just couldn't get my usual spark to fire up.
And for a while I had trouble figuring out why I was so lethargic.
Was it the 5k walk we did yesterday?
Perhaps the glass of wine I had with dinner?
Maybe it was the Oregon Football game on Saturday.
Since I was not going into work, I walked all the kids to school.
Which really made me tired.
At last I figured out what was making me so pooped.
Cancer.
When I woke up I just couldn't get my usual spark to fire up.
And for a while I had trouble figuring out why I was so lethargic.
Was it the 5k walk we did yesterday?
Perhaps the glass of wine I had with dinner?
Maybe it was the Oregon Football game on Saturday.
Since I was not going into work, I walked all the kids to school.
Which really made me tired.
At last I figured out what was making me so pooped.
Cancer.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Day 147-race
Today I participated in the Race for the Cure. The day was full of surprises.
One of my best friends flew in from California just to walk with me.
Harper made it through the entire 5k with minimal complaint.
I didn't cry, not even once.
A man came up to me and shared that his late wife was Bossier than cancer too. That she beat breast cancer, but when it came back cancer had the last word.
He wore her photo on his back, and seemed to be walking the race alone. A beautiful tribute to his wife.
A friend asked if that kind of interaction happens a lot.
Yes it does.
Some days it is hard to be reminded of it all. Of how not everyone is as lucky as me. How cancer has taken so much from so many.
Today was one of those days.
But tomorrow I will bounce right back to my Bossy self.
Surprised?
One of my best friends flew in from California just to walk with me.
Harper made it through the entire 5k with minimal complaint.
I didn't cry, not even once.
A man came up to me and shared that his late wife was Bossier than cancer too. That she beat breast cancer, but when it came back cancer had the last word.
He wore her photo on his back, and seemed to be walking the race alone. A beautiful tribute to his wife.
A friend asked if that kind of interaction happens a lot.
Yes it does.
Some days it is hard to be reminded of it all. Of how not everyone is as lucky as me. How cancer has taken so much from so many.
Today was one of those days.
But tomorrow I will bounce right back to my Bossy self.
Surprised?
Friday, September 16, 2011
Day 145
Chemo day
In preparation for chemotherapy today I had dinner with two of my closest friends. Sorry fellas but there is nothing quite like a pair of girlfriends you have known for over 20 years
The 3 of us have bonded so deeply during the last 5 months that it is almost making cancer worth it.
We had a good honest conversation that trickled into my conversation with my Dr. today.
Today we started discussing what my treatment looks like after surgery. How we are going to continue to fight off cancer for probably 10 years post surgery.
I told my Dr. That I was glad we liked each other and that she is not allowed to retire before she feels I am in the clear.
Doug took me out to lunch to celebrate only 2 more treatments. We spoke about my conversation with my Dr and his response was, "whatever keeps you out of a box".
And you wonder why I love this guy so much. No bullshit.
He also reminded me that at the beginning of this trip into cancerland we promised each other to take things day to day.
All we have, all any of us have, is this very moment.
And all any of us should worry about is wasting it.
In preparation for chemotherapy today I had dinner with two of my closest friends. Sorry fellas but there is nothing quite like a pair of girlfriends you have known for over 20 years
The 3 of us have bonded so deeply during the last 5 months that it is almost making cancer worth it.
We had a good honest conversation that trickled into my conversation with my Dr. today.
Today we started discussing what my treatment looks like after surgery. How we are going to continue to fight off cancer for probably 10 years post surgery.
I told my Dr. That I was glad we liked each other and that she is not allowed to retire before she feels I am in the clear.
Doug took me out to lunch to celebrate only 2 more treatments. We spoke about my conversation with my Dr and his response was, "whatever keeps you out of a box".
And you wonder why I love this guy so much. No bullshit.
He also reminded me that at the beginning of this trip into cancerland we promised each other to take things day to day.
All we have, all any of us have, is this very moment.
And all any of us should worry about is wasting it.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Day 143 - full disclosure
I decided to do some research today to prepare myself for my upcoming plastic surgery consultation.
Note to self - do not click on youtube videos that say "mastectomy reconstruction + recovery" unless you want to see what your body is going to go through in graphic detail.
My hope is for the following:
Narcotics that never wear off - until it is time to.
A commercial free Mad Men marathon running from October 19th and beyond.
Patient loved ones.
Sleep.
Symmetry.
Oh yeah - and my husband waking me up with the news that cancer has left the building.
Note to self - do not click on youtube videos that say "mastectomy reconstruction + recovery" unless you want to see what your body is going to go through in graphic detail.
My hope is for the following:
Narcotics that never wear off - until it is time to.
A commercial free Mad Men marathon running from October 19th and beyond.
Patient loved ones.
Sleep.
Symmetry.
Oh yeah - and my husband waking me up with the news that cancer has left the building.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Day 142 - BC
I was looking through my photos the other day - and came across this one.What I suddenly realized is that this photo was taken on the last day that I didn't know I had cancer.
BC (before cancer)
Oh what a great day. We hunted for eggs, we brunched on delicious treats, we napped. We thought of Spring.
At the time I thought, "what a miracle" A super cute photo of my eikenkids. Everyone looks clean, they are looking in the same direction, no one is crying.
I did have a nagging feeling about the results I was about to receive. I think in my heart that I knew something was just not right.
But I refused to let that infiltrate my day.
I am so grateful for that. I can look back at this photo, and only remember what fun we had as a family.
The kids are a little more grown up now. A little less innocent.
But aren't we all.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Day 140 - Flight 11
My first boss in NYC was everything you should expect, and hope for, in the fashion industry.
She was connected.
She was super fabulous.
She invited me to everything.
She introduced me to her friends.
She had a Warhol...original.
She was my "The Devil Wears Prada" boss.
Her best friend, who I will call Bunny, was also the only person I personally knew who died on September 11th.
My boss and I had an epic falling out when, as happens in every one's career, I went to her and told her that I was considering another opportunity.
In a flash I was thrown out on the street...literally. There was no 2 weeks notice, no heartfelt congratulations, no going away party.
When I tried to reach out to her, I was met with Bunny. Bunny happened to be staying at her apartment when I stopped by unannounced to try and clear the air.
Bunny, her tears matching mine, simply told me to give it time. That my boss would come around. That it was good that I was moving up in my career.
She was such a free spirit, so magical, that I had to believe her.
Bunny gave me a warm hug, and sent me on my way.
Years later I was shocked to read her name in the paper - shocked to learn that she was on Flight 11 from Boston to LA. Saddened to know that her death would leave her two teen aged sons orphans.
I knew my boss was hurting - this was her lifelong best friend. But there had never been the reconciliation that Bunny had believed would come. And now was not the time to try and start one.
A few weeks after September 11th I read the most amazing story.
Years earlier Bunny had given my boss an amazing gold ring with a cross as a sign of their friendship, matching a ring she had always admired. They wore those matching rings every day, reminding themselves of their bond.
A photo of that ring appeared on the cover of the NY Times, telling the story of unclaimed items found at the World Trade Center site, and how to claim them.
Somehow, through all the jet fuel, all the ash, steel, papers, debris, that small gold ring was found.
A week later another story ran - about how my boss fought to prove she knew the rightful owner. All it took was her showing up with the exact same ring to claim it, and return it to Bunny's children.
My former boss and I have not spoken, since the day I resigned, over 15 years ago. She simply could never forgive me for leaving her.
With her ring, I know that Bunny was showing her that they would be together forever.
She was connected.
She was super fabulous.
She invited me to everything.
She introduced me to her friends.
She had a Warhol...original.
She was my "The Devil Wears Prada" boss.
Her best friend, who I will call Bunny, was also the only person I personally knew who died on September 11th.
My boss and I had an epic falling out when, as happens in every one's career, I went to her and told her that I was considering another opportunity.
In a flash I was thrown out on the street...literally. There was no 2 weeks notice, no heartfelt congratulations, no going away party.
When I tried to reach out to her, I was met with Bunny. Bunny happened to be staying at her apartment when I stopped by unannounced to try and clear the air.
Bunny, her tears matching mine, simply told me to give it time. That my boss would come around. That it was good that I was moving up in my career.
She was such a free spirit, so magical, that I had to believe her.
Bunny gave me a warm hug, and sent me on my way.
Years later I was shocked to read her name in the paper - shocked to learn that she was on Flight 11 from Boston to LA. Saddened to know that her death would leave her two teen aged sons orphans.
I knew my boss was hurting - this was her lifelong best friend. But there had never been the reconciliation that Bunny had believed would come. And now was not the time to try and start one.
A few weeks after September 11th I read the most amazing story.
Years earlier Bunny had given my boss an amazing gold ring with a cross as a sign of their friendship, matching a ring she had always admired. They wore those matching rings every day, reminding themselves of their bond.
A photo of that ring appeared on the cover of the NY Times, telling the story of unclaimed items found at the World Trade Center site, and how to claim them.
Somehow, through all the jet fuel, all the ash, steel, papers, debris, that small gold ring was found.
A week later another story ran - about how my boss fought to prove she knew the rightful owner. All it took was her showing up with the exact same ring to claim it, and return it to Bunny's children.
My former boss and I have not spoken, since the day I resigned, over 15 years ago. She simply could never forgive me for leaving her.
With her ring, I know that Bunny was showing her that they would be together forever.
Day 140 - 90
I ran into my next door neighbor this morning. Dave is a 3 year survivor of stage 3 skin cancer. He is a rather shy man, but has always been very loving towards our family.
When we first bought our house I was pregnant with Graham. Imagine this bachelors surprise that within 3 years we had 3 kids. Doug and I worried that our household may be too noisy for him, but Dave has never seemed to notice.
We first heard of his cancer from one of our other neighbors. Then silently watched as family and friends came to nurse him back to health.
A few weeks after I was diagnosed we ran into each other coming out of the grocery store. I told him that I was joining his club, after which he stared at my blankly. As I learned then, and still learn each day there is simply no easy way to tell someone you have cancer.
He asked all the right questions, showed all the right concern, and each time I see him he checks in to see how things are progressing.
Today we had a long conversation about surviving cancer. I was telling him that I only had 3 more treatments, then surgery, and that I would be moving to the next phase of our new life.
I was feeling feisty, and he complimented me on my attitude. Then he asked me, "Do you think I am going to make it?"
Which totally took me by surprise. He said he thinks about his cancer everyday, that he worries it is coming back.
I said, "we were both going to live to be 90."
He thought about that for a moment, and said, "90 will be nice".
When we first bought our house I was pregnant with Graham. Imagine this bachelors surprise that within 3 years we had 3 kids. Doug and I worried that our household may be too noisy for him, but Dave has never seemed to notice.
We first heard of his cancer from one of our other neighbors. Then silently watched as family and friends came to nurse him back to health.
A few weeks after I was diagnosed we ran into each other coming out of the grocery store. I told him that I was joining his club, after which he stared at my blankly. As I learned then, and still learn each day there is simply no easy way to tell someone you have cancer.
He asked all the right questions, showed all the right concern, and each time I see him he checks in to see how things are progressing.
Today we had a long conversation about surviving cancer. I was telling him that I only had 3 more treatments, then surgery, and that I would be moving to the next phase of our new life.
I was feeling feisty, and he complimented me on my attitude. Then he asked me, "Do you think I am going to make it?"
Which totally took me by surprise. He said he thinks about his cancer everyday, that he worries it is coming back.
I said, "we were both going to live to be 90."
He thought about that for a moment, and said, "90 will be nice".
Friday, September 9, 2011
Day 138 - chemo
After today only 3 more treatments left. I am not sure what I am going to do with all my free time!
Learn to cook?
I am great at "preparing" things. Graham loves my guacamole. After years of watching Doug make eggs I have found I can pull that off most days. Toast? No problem. Even pancakes. But beyond that I am utterly hopeless.
Maybe I will write the next great American novel? As this blog can attest it will be overly punctuated, and full of short, pithy sentences.
Perhaps I will teach myself to play guitar? After mastering it I am sure the Foo Fighters will hire me.
The reality is the only thing the end of chemo is going to mean is that I get to work on Fridays again.
Which I will happily do.
Day 137 - the nose knows
Have I mentioned that chemo makes your nose hairs fall out? So there is nothing to slow down a runny nose from becoming an embarrassing incident.
My nose has caused me trouble before. When I was seventeen, and playing volleyball in Japan, the smallest player on the team accidentally head butted me...right on the nose.
No not in a game but rather as we sat at the edge of my bed goofing around and laughing.
What ensued was one of the more gruesome, and torturous medical experiences (until now) of my life.
When you break your nose like I did blood gushes to the point where everyone else in the room walks out.
Thankfully our trainer was there, and she was able to take care of me that night - then proceeded to give me copious amounts of narcotics so I could survive the plan ride home.
This was followed by pretty major reconstructive surgery, the details of which I will spare you. Let's just say at one point my own mother had to leave the room.
My friend who broke my nose felt terrible, but the situation surrounding it was so funny we couldn't recount the story without laughing.
Laughter is always the best medicine.
My nose has caused me trouble before. When I was seventeen, and playing volleyball in Japan, the smallest player on the team accidentally head butted me...right on the nose.
No not in a game but rather as we sat at the edge of my bed goofing around and laughing.
What ensued was one of the more gruesome, and torturous medical experiences (until now) of my life.
When you break your nose like I did blood gushes to the point where everyone else in the room walks out.
Thankfully our trainer was there, and she was able to take care of me that night - then proceeded to give me copious amounts of narcotics so I could survive the plan ride home.
This was followed by pretty major reconstructive surgery, the details of which I will spare you. Let's just say at one point my own mother had to leave the room.
My friend who broke my nose felt terrible, but the situation surrounding it was so funny we couldn't recount the story without laughing.
Laughter is always the best medicine.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Day 136 - Firsts
I wanted to stay all day. I wanted to skip work and pick him up after school and hang out with all the other parents. Most days I happily get up and head into the office, yesterday was not one of them.
Tomorrow Harper gets to go to her class and pick out her cubby. Friday will be her first official day of school.
She asks me every morning if she gets to go to school. I can't wait when I get to say yes.
In my BC (before cancer) life I may have just rushed off to some inane meeting, hurrying the kids along. These days I try and take my time. Knowing that whatever is happening at work will continue to happen until I get there, and life will go on.
That is a first for me.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Day 134 - No laughing matter?
Doug and I had an absolute blast at the Oregon football game this weekend. Only two things would have made it more fun;A Duck win.
No cancer.
For some reason the cancer thing really bothered me this weekend. I felt eyes on me the entire trip. In the hotel, at the stadium, all through the airport.
Entering the stadium I was asked to remove my hat two times. So much for southern hospitatlity.
I felt like each time I was introduced to someone new I should make a crack about cancer , then thought better of it. The last time I did that I was met with blank stares.
No one seems to have a sense of humor about cancer anymore.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Day 133 - Fall
I love me some summer. Living in Portland one becomes obsessed with the weather.
But for me Fall is where it is at. While some see it as the beginning of the end, I see it as the beginning.
School starts, football and volleyball seasons start, trees begin to shed their old selves.
I met Doug in the fall, over 21 years ago.
I became a mother for the first time in the Fall.
I visited Oregon for the first time in the Fall.
This Fall I will begin my new life. I will shed some skin, some tissue, and some poison.
Who knows what I will become.
But for me Fall is where it is at. While some see it as the beginning of the end, I see it as the beginning.
School starts, football and volleyball seasons start, trees begin to shed their old selves.
I met Doug in the fall, over 21 years ago.
I became a mother for the first time in the Fall.
I visited Oregon for the first time in the Fall.
This Fall I will begin my new life. I will shed some skin, some tissue, and some poison.
Who knows what I will become.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Day 130 - chemo day
Chemo number 12 today- only 4 more to go.
It was pretty uneventful, which is a really good thing. As per usual I fell asleep for most of it, that's how exciting chemo can be.
On the way home, Doug and I ran into Mr. Bossy - Frank. We started talking about a big dinner we want to have to celebrate my last chemo treatment. It will be in honor of all the friends who have helped me through all of this.
And I am sure there will be balloons.
I am glad I have about 3 weeks between chemo ending and surgery. To be honest surgery is probably going to be the hardest part of all of this, and I haven't given it much thought.
Yeah new boobs sound fun to most people, but my boobs are just fine thankyouverymuch. But there is not much I can do about the situation, I have made my decision, now I just want to get it over with already.
Cancer is part of our lives now - but I am looking forward to when it no longer defines who I am. I am looking forward to it no longer being an obvious presence in my body.
I am looking forward to having my old life back.
It was pretty uneventful, which is a really good thing. As per usual I fell asleep for most of it, that's how exciting chemo can be.
On the way home, Doug and I ran into Mr. Bossy - Frank. We started talking about a big dinner we want to have to celebrate my last chemo treatment. It will be in honor of all the friends who have helped me through all of this.
And I am sure there will be balloons.
I am glad I have about 3 weeks between chemo ending and surgery. To be honest surgery is probably going to be the hardest part of all of this, and I haven't given it much thought.
Yeah new boobs sound fun to most people, but my boobs are just fine thankyouverymuch. But there is not much I can do about the situation, I have made my decision, now I just want to get it over with already.
Cancer is part of our lives now - but I am looking forward to when it no longer defines who I am. I am looking forward to it no longer being an obvious presence in my body.
I am looking forward to having my old life back.
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