If you can make it there

I love New York.

I love that my husband grew up there.

I love that my first time there was with him.

I love that I lived there for 7 years.  That I can navigate my way around the city by bus, subway, cab, and maybe even a ferry.  That my in-laws still live there.  That my accountant still lives there.  That some of my closest friends live there.

I love that I got to show my mom, along with her sisters, New York for their first time.  That we got lost on the way home from the airport, that we went to Ellis Island, that they rode the subway, that we saw a Broadway show.

I love that my sister Kristy lived with us in New York 2 or 3 times (I am not sure either of us can remember), while she started her career.

I love that one of my oldest friends would visit me whenever she could.  We would walk, and walk, and walk, and talk, and talk, and talk.  I love that whenever I see the Empire State Building I send her a photo - as it always reminds me of her.

I love that I got to show my father New York.  I love that I had a chance to tell him, "I will meet you in front of Grand Central Station."  I love that he got to sleep in my first house, eat at my favorite pizza parlor, walk across the Brooklyn Bridge with me, and see the Statue of Liberty.

I love that of all the places in the world, my two besties want to go to celebrate our friendship and our health is New York.  The first time for them both.

I love that Doug takes each kid on a one on one trip to New York.

I love that we will all be able to say that our first time in New York was with someone who will love us forever.

Never Again

One of the biggest lessons I have learned during my dance with cancer is that going about things alone is never the right choice.

Even the most mundane Dr.'s appointment should be shared with someone you love.

Today, I headed to my oncologist for my very first "3 month check up". 

And for some reason I went all by myself.

When I walked into the office and immediately went and had my blood drawn panic began to set in.

I asked the nurse, "Do you test that right now?"

"Yes", was her reply.

Next I was ushered into the examination room, and immediately sent out a text to my girlfriends. 

"I am a little freaked out here..." 

Worst case scenarios rolled around in my head.  I remember a long time ago being on a business trip with my boss who's husband had kidney cancer.  He was on the phone with her, after walking out of his first 3 month check up.  At the time it seemed serious, but not really scary.  Somewhat routine.

Now I realized how wrong I was.  I now understood how terrifying a 3 month check up is.

After a few minutes my oncologist came in, checked me out, (yes this does include feeling me up, but in a much gentler way than my radiologist).

I told him about the pain I have experienced in my legs, to which he replied, "I am confident it is not anything sinister.",he checked my heart which he felt had, "completely healed", and then he told me everything was fine and he would see me in another 3 months.

Suddenly I was free to go live my life blissfully away from cancer for another 3 months. 

And I learned a valuable lesson.  Not only was I getting all worked up over nothing, but as my friend Ali reminded me, I missed out on celebrating three months without cancer with someone I love.

When I got home I grabbed Doug, I grabbed the kids, and we walked down the street to celebrate what a great day it had been.

I had made it to my 3 month check up.

I had made it 3 months without cancer.

No rest for the weary...

Just landed back from what is the beginning of the craziest six weeks of my career / life.  It looks something like this:

Fly to Chicago for one night
Go watch the Ducks play in Eugene
Fly to Chicago for three nights - get biggest project of my career open.
Go watch the Ducks play in Seattle
Celebrate Graham turning 8
Go watch the Ducks play in Eugene
Fly to Las Vegas, Dallas, Georgetown
Girls weekend
Fly to Georgetown to open coolest project of my career.
Go watch the Ducks play in Eugene

As crazy as all of that seems - I am happy about it.

Because this time last year there was no way I could have done it.

Race for the Cure

Sunday was Portland's Race for the Cure.

A friend came up to me today to see if I had walked.

I thought about it a little bit on Sunday.  I thought about it a little bit the day before that.  I even thought about it a few weeks ago.

For some reason I just didn't have the energy for it.  The sea of pink.  The tributes to grandmothers, mothers, sisters, friends.  The Survivor t-shirts.

Instead we literally stayed at home all day.  This never happens.  The Eikenkids were thrilled.

Our day reminded me of an episode from Mad Men.  Don and Betty are laying in bed, the kids come in to disturb their hangover, and both grunt that it is time for the kids to get ready for bed.

Sally shrieks, "but we haven't had any dinner yet!".

At least it wasn't that bad.  Doug made homemade pizza.  Harris said, "Daddy you are a good cook", to which Graham replied, "I think we have already established that."

Later I read about "Sleep in for the Cure".

And thought to myself that we did just that.

Keep your paws to yourself

Had another check up today - this time with my Radiologist.

This is my least favorite office (in the basement, no cell coverage), but with the best parking (I still have my radiology permit), and a great Dr.

Sometimes I sit in those offices, and I wonder what the Dr's. and nurses must think of me.  They always, and I mean always, comment on my shoes.

I have a favorite pair of silver oxfords that I wore for the majority of last year.  There was a bit of CHAP paint splashed on them, and they made me feel invincible.  They are literally falling apart, so I have retired them for now.

They were sort of like my secret weapon.  Along with the silver shoes, I also wore a ring that some friends gave me for my 40th birthday.  In fact I still wear it most days.  It reminds me that I have people all over who love me.

Anyway, back to the radiologist.  First thing he says to me is, "you changed your shoes."  It took me a while (thanks chemo brain), to figure out what he was saying.  I guess he misses the silver shoes too.

These appointments are super random because for some reason your radiologist wants to see how your implants are faring after radiation cooked them inside your body for a few months.

I kid you not when I say the gymnastic gyrations that my breasts were put through fell into one of these three categories:

A.  Ticklish:  You know those piano playing fingers that are employed to circle around your breasts during an exam, sort of that kneading dough with ones fingertips move.  I hate that.  I swear I had to think about dead puppies just to keep myself from collapsing from the giggles.  

B.  Awkward:  I mean really, what do you talk about when someone you barely know is feeling you up.  For like 5 minutes.  I don't know what anyone with any degree of modesty does in this situation.  It must be more painful for them than all the treatments combined.

C.  Vengeful:  I am pretty sure my Dr. was trying to break up all the scar tissue around my chest at once.  He pushed and pulled and smashed my implants as if he had some sort of vendetta against me.  

After all that he simply told me he thought they looked really good.

To which I replied, "then next time look with your eyes."

HA!

Back to the scene of the crime

Today I went back to my OBGYN for my annual exam.  The last time I was there, I left with an appointment for my first, and, well, only mammogram.

I was asked to sign in, and was surprised to see a paper that I must have signed the last time I was in the office.  It was weird to think back to April 2010 and how so much changed since then. 

The person who signed that paper seemed like a stranger to me.

The visit was pretty straight forward.  In case you were wondering after you have a bilateral mastectomy you get to skip the whole breast exam business.  But as all us girls know, that is the easy part.

Since I was already at the hospital I decided to finally go to the genetics office. 

Back when I was knee deep in chemo I went and met with the genetics group.  I thought I was going in to see if for any reason they thought I carried the famous BRACA gene, since no one in my immediate family has had breast cancer I figured they would give me a cup of water and send me on my way.

So it was surprising to learn that there is actually a genetic link to Breast + Pancreatic Cancer.

And my genetic link is my father - who won the cancer lottery at 52 by being diagnosed with an uncurable cancer that usually rears its ugly head around 70.

For me Pancreatic Cancer is the monster under the bed, the slasher movie killer, the Grim Reaper. 

My blood was drawn so it could be sent off to Washington, so some unknown person could look at it under a microscope, so the results could then be transferred to my Dr, so I could have another appointment to learn if that monster under the bed is real.

As Doug said, "What a gloomy day you had".

And I cried, and cried, and cried.  Not for any reason other than yes, it was a gloomy day. 

But also because we are entering a new world now. 

And it is harder than I thought.

"How's your health?"

Someone I don't really know very well asked me that question today.

At first I was a little stunned, considering, and then I wasn't quite so sure how to answer.

There are a lot of uncomfortable moments when you have / had cancer.  None more so than trying to express the gravity of the situation, while at the same time remaining upbeat.

Nobody wants to be a downer, especially not a cancer patient.

I have been feeling really run down lately.  Probably a hang over from a long trip to Chicago / NY / Eugene last week.  One of the major side effects of the Tamoxifen I take every day is "large bone pain".

This manifests itself as aches in my femurs, and my rib cage.  Everyday, all day.

And as I was explaining this to a rather surprised Doug he said, "honey, no one knows what you are going through, but sometimes you need to tell someone."

So I am telling you.

I guess I have been doing that all along.