Day 127 - 41

Forty One

I have lived every year of my life with sisters.  My first memory is of being in a pack n play, and my mom, and two sisters looking in at me and then leaving the room.

What resulted was a feeling of being left out.  Which to this day I hate.

Harper sort of struggles with this.  The boys share a room, so on the weekends she thinks it is time for a sleep over.  Usually she ends up snuggled next to Graham.

I guess Harris decided to join the party too. 

They are so lucky to have each other. 

I hope that they come together, like my sisters have for me, when they need each other.  I hope they always want to share a room, hug each other, and play together.

I hope they don't need this photo to remind them of how much once loved each other.

I hope they always believe they are the Eikenkids, the Eikencrazies, Team Eikenberry. 

And I hope that I get to celebrate each of their 41st birthdays.

Day 126 - what's next

Tomorrow is my 41st birthday, which got me thinking about age milestones.

Did you know that Julia Child  was not published until she was 48?  She didn't begin filming her television program, "French Chef" until she was 51.

Madeline Albright was a stay at home mom who did not begin her "paid professional" career until she was 39.

And I am going to beat cancer at 41, and who knows what else.

But I can't wait to find out.

Day 125 - how ya doing?

Yesterday was chemo # 11.  Only 5 more to go.  Seems like yesterday I was staring down 16.

I spent the majority of my appointment chatting with a women who was going for round 2 with breast cancer.  The first round being 10 years ago.

She was full of insight, mastectomy tips, and was a complete Bossy.  With her was her niece who faced an even tougher breast cancer battle and came out the other side.

We each shared the same feeling about our individual diagnosis...that no matter how bad we had it we knew that someone else had it much worse.

Today while I was enjoying a little mama daughter time with Harper a women walked into our coffee shop with a halo.  Not the angelic kind, but the metal kind drilled into your head.

And I thought to myself, "she has it so much harder than I do".  Then I realized, she probably thought the same about me.

In the end it is all about attitude.  My worst moment came about 3 days after my diagnosis when I was once again at the hospital for some tests.  I sat there, tears welling in my eyes, and all I wanted to do was run the other direction.

But I took a deep breath, accepted my new reality, and went head first into what the day was going to bring.

I have felt lucky ever since.

Day - 123 - I will...

Today I had a young guy come up to me - couldn't be more than 25, and tell me; "I am a survivor too".

I was a little taken aback - his assumption being that I have achieved survivor status.  I just smiled and asked how long - and he replied, "13 years".

The whole idea of "survivor" has been on my mind lately.  Nike sells these really cool livestrong survivor t-shirts, but I haven't bought one yet.  Which really got me thinking.

Do I even like the word survivor?  Do I want that label on me?  I feel like I have actually been thriving with cancer.  It is not going to survive me if you know what I mean.

Perhaps I want as shirt that says:

"I kicked cancer's ass". 

Or maybe:

"bald is beautiful". 

How about:

"cancer - go pound sand".

Oh I know...

Bossier than cancer.

d

Day 122 - Think Pink

I guess I have always been a tomboy.  One of my favorite Halloween costumes was the year I dressed as a football player - full pads and all.

It is ironic that I have a girl cancer.  One that is symbolized with a pink ribbon. 

When I was first diagnosed I told my mom that if she sent me anything pink I might kill her.

But this year I am embracing the pink ribbon. 

Sunday, September 18th is Portland's Race for the Cure.  I am going to walk the 5k with my sister Kristy, and anyone else who wants to join us.

We are going to wear Bossier than Cancer t-shirts.

And maybe a little pink.

Day - 119 - round mounds

boobs, knockers, funbags, tits, breasts, hooters, mamories, boobies, utters, bee stings, chest puppies, melons, tata's, the twins, jugs, rack, bosoms, bolt-on's, bust, cans, gazongas

I'm not a big shopper.  Ideally clothes would just appear in my closet, perfectly suited for my tastes. 

Groceries would refill themselves.

I wait until the last moment to fill up my gas tank.

The problem I always find is that there are way too many choices available.

Endless possibilities. 

Countless combinations.

But I guess this time I am really going to have to choose. 

There is no 90 day return with receipt and get store credit on this purchase. 

And talk about buyers remorse! 

I will take a few key people under advisement. 

One of my most trusted advisers will join me on my shopping excursion. 

She will analyze, she will contemplate, she will advise.

In the end the choice will be mine. 

And unlike my children, who will all eventually leave me.

These girls will be here to stay.

Day 117 - Grandpaw

That handsome devil right there is my grandpaw.  Today would have been his 90th birthday.

He was one of the funniest people I ever new.  And sweetest.  And I am not sure if I have ever met someone who was harder working.

One of my favorite things was how much he loved my grandmother Clara Belle. 

They were high school sweethearts, and married the night Clara Belle graduated from high school.

He dropped her off back at home that night.  And continued to do so until one of them got the courage to tell her folks.

As a kid I didn't understand why she called him Daddy.  I sort of loved it, but sort of thought it was weird.  As a mother I totally get it.

He called her mother.  So respectful of her position in the family. 

How lucky was I to have such amazing role models.

It is no wonder I am so bossy.

Day 116 - Cancer Sucks

No matter how bossy I feel some days cancer just sucks.  It's not the baldness, the chemo, or the fear, it is the lack of a immune system.

Somehow I have obtained a severe ear infection.  Both inside and out.  I look like I wrestled in college. 

Yes it is that bad.

The last two days disappeared from my life, with little participation from me.  Doug had to take me to the Dr. where the best I could do was lay in the fetal position, shivering and sweating at the same time.

They even drew blood with me laying there, and I am a pretty tough cookie.  But sitting up was a chore.

Today I am feeling a little better.  The ear is still killing me.  But all I want is for it to get better.

So I can get chemo tomorrow.

Day 114 - HERO

One of my hero's is an old volleyball friend.  Someone I competed with and against since we were 13. 

We had been out of touch for years, but she reached out to me as soon as she learned about my diagnosis. 

I was grateful to be able to ask her candid questions about treatment options, reconstruction, mothering during cancer. 

You see she went down the cancer path before me - and without me.

And reached 4 years with no sign of disease.

Until now.

As she tells it, cancer is coming back for round 2. 

Her message to me was full of bossiness:

"I am not looking at the averages which says 4 years because let's be realistic, we are way above average. I look forward to kicking ass together and telling stories of remember when years down the road.

I love you."

And heart. 

And I am lucky to be in her company.

Day 111 - like it's 1999

Chemo yesterday - with the ultimate chemo buddy - my mom. 

It was pretty uneventful. There was another patient there receiving her last treatment, with little fanfair. 

No balloons. 

Maybe cancer treatment is not something to celebrate, but the end of it certainly is.  I was too woozie from the benedryl to even lift my head up to congratulate her.  Shame on me. 

And perhaps I was a smidge jealous.  I want to be finished too.

All in good time.  7 more weeks of chemo, 3 weeks of waiting, surgery, then 9 more months of super bonus treatment, port removal surgery, then done.

Imagine the party then.

Day 109 - Chemo Prep

Some days I just feel like going bald. I have been walking around the office all day looking like this:

I think my ultra nerd glasses help. 

Lately I have noticed that my eyebrows are starting to go awol - damnit!  Too bad it is the year of the full eyebrow, which I have sported since I was 3.  If it were 1995 I could just shave them off and pencil them in. 

My sister also thinks my eyelashes are disappearing.  Oh well - just more stuff to grow back in October I guess.

Tomorrow is Chemo #9...which means I will have more chemo behind me than I have in front of me.  It is such a huge mental relief I can hardley stand it.

The worst part of Chemo is when they stick the thumbtack into my port.  Maybe one of these days I will take a picture of it.  Trust me you would all feel really sorry for me then.

The best part of Chemo is:

1.  I get to take a long nap
2.  The nurses are super nice
3.  It is saving my life.

Heal and Deal.

d

Day 107 - what age do you feel

Last night at the gym a young gal came up to me and said, " I used to have that haircut too".

For a second I thought she didn't quite understand why I had a bald head.  And then she asked, "are you undergoing treatment?".

This was the first time a perfect stranger came up to me and dove right in to cancer talk.  She was a year out, and the three things I noticed about here were:

1.  Her boobs looked really good.
2.  Her hair looked really good.
3.  She was dripping sweat from the gym

All of which made me very happy.  I asked her if she still thought about cancer.  And she said only when she see's other people who are going through it, otherwise it is a distant memory.

On the way home from the gym I was telling the kids it was a privledge to grow old.  Graham said age is just a number, and then he asked me how old I feel.

I said, "most days I feel like I am 25".

Graham said, "I feel like I am 4"

Harper said, "I feel like I am a teenager!"

I think Heal and Deal is going to take on a whole new meaning for me soon.

d

Day - 105 - "it is a privlage to get old"

Frank - of "heal and deal" fame reminded me of that fact yesterday.  I made some offhanded remark about feeling old, and BAM he knocked me back to reality.

After the week we had together, you would think I would not have needed the reminder.  But alas every ship needs to be righted every once in a while.

I can't quite figure out how Frank landed in our lives.  The moment I met him I felt like he was a part of my family.  I immediately connected to his mission, and started doing some work for CHAP.

In the last 105 days I have felt an even bigger connection. 

This week got even deeper. 

With one phone call Frank brought his magic to a friend in deep crisis.  He brought his bag of tricks and his compassion up to the hill, and calmed a family in their darkest hour.

Yesterday we got started on healing and dealing.  Barely scratched the surface I am sure, but I did see a few smiles, heard some beautiful stories, and shed some tears.

There is no explanation, no way to try and find a logical reason for any of this to have happened. 

I am just forever thankful that we had Frank to help guide us off the hill and back to reality.

Day 103 - Wall Sit

I slipped away for dinner with two of my Oregon Volleyball Bossies last night.  I think together we are like 18 feel tall - and with one of us bald we made quite a fearsome threesome.

We shared crazy medical stories, our children's triumphs, a few tears, but much, much more laughter.  It was a beautiful night, full of reminders of how great life is.

Today was chemo # 8 - we are in the middle place, mile 18, no where to go but forward.  I have been anticipating this day for a long time.  Really since I was first given the 16 rounds of treatment prescription.

I am the type of person who when faced with any difficult physical tasks wants to 1.  prove to myself I can do it and 2.   get it done as quickly as possible.

Last summer when I walked into the gym my trainer told me he was going to do his leg workout after training me. 

I said, "lets do it together".  To which he replied, "no woman could ever get through my leg work out"

Well it was on after that.

Let me add right here that he was an all-american wrestler, probably the most determined athlete group around, and I was about 20 years older.

Of coarse I made it through.  It was 45 minutes of pure torture from start to finish.  The last "exercise" was a wall sit.  A minute into it I turned to him and said, "we are doing this until one of us drops aren't we?"

He just nodded.

I won't tell you who fell first.  All I will say is that I proved my point.

And couldn't walk for about a week.

Day 102 -"i'd much rather live a short happy life, than a long miserable one."

kayla emiko campos

July 31, 1999-August 4, 2011



We are going to leave Kayla here tonight - as she left us today.  The last thing I want you all to remember is how remarkable Kayla was in her final moments.

Kayla was passionate about recycling - and in that vein her family is making Kayla one of the ultimate recyclers by donating her organs.

Bossier than cancer is about facing your diagnosis head on, taking charge of your life, and finding humor in the chaos. 

We will get back to that tomorrow.  I promise.

For tonight I want to simply say goodnight to Kayla.

Day - 101 - a two parter

Part 1.  Harper-

Last night as I was tucking Harper into bed - her busy day (zoo camp + playdate) was starting to get the better of her.  She kept trying to get more out of me, and I was spent.

Finally I just told her to go to bed, and went and started a bubble bath for myself.  A few minutes later I could hear Doug in her room, trying to calm her down.

Through her tears she kept saying, "Mama is just too Bossy.  She is Bossier than cancer.  Mama just bosses me around at night"

Which is all true.  I am all of those things. 

And so is Harper - which I will be happy about, in probably 25 years.
========================================================================
Part 2.  Kayla update

As I type this tonight, young Kayla is on life support up at Dorenbechers, surrounded by her friends and family.  She has had several neurological tests today, the results of which are showing no signs of life in her brain.

There will be a few more test later this evening, and then decisions will be made, next steps taken. 

Much like I have experienced the last 101 days, I believe that Kayla, her mom Allison, little sister Maile, grandmother Mae, and uncle Bryan are seeing, feeling, and hearing support that they never could imagine existed.

In times of tragedy I believe we all show our true colors.  Some of us want to get to work, helping in any task we can.  Others want to sit and nurture.  Many pray.

But we come together, our tribes, and we circle around, and we do what we can. 

Tonight I am not sure what we can do except be thankful for our friends and our our families, and know that if this, any of this, were to happen to you, that your tribe would find you, lift you up, and carry you to wherever you needed to go.

Day 100 - Kayla

"We always have a big celebration for the 100th day of school...so tomorrow celebrate the 100 day that are behind you...eat 100 Lemonheads...give 100 smiles to those around you, let Harper eat a hundred ice cream cones ....I send you hundred hugs!" - Mom

As much as I would love to write a witty post about my amazing 100 days, today is not one of those days.

My oldest friend, Allison Krause is right now up at Dorenbecher's Children's Hospital with her daughter Kayla - who was hit by a car this afternoon.

As I write this Kayla is fighting for her 12 year old life. 

So far all of your prayers, meditations, good wishes, and thoughts for me have worked wonders.  Tonight I simply ask that you shift all of your energy towards Kayla.

Kayla was with me the night we cut off all my hair. 

I want her with us as we celebrate its growing back.

d

Day 99 - A look back

I have been thinking a lot lately about that bleak first week of my diagnosis.  The days when we did not know what we were facing, when Doug and I literally holed up in our bedroom, terrified.

The turning point came in a single, long day.  A Thursday.  From a nurse, who I believed.

It started with another test.  This time to take a biopsy of my lymph nodes in order to confirm or deny cancers spread there.

At that point I had spent a lot of time with the same group of people.  The nurse who performed my initial mammogram, the Dr. who did the biopsy on my breast.  Let's just say I would love to play poker with each and every one of them, they sort of gave away their hands, (mine actually), each time we met.

But when asked by me to tell it to me straight, they went mute. 

And then finally.  A nurse named Susan.  She took pity on me.  She snuck my chart into a small room, and read it to me, and translated what it said. 
Two things stuck with me.

1.  "This is not a death sentence".
2.  "Someday you will wake up, and cancer will not be the first thing you think about.  I promise".

And then, like so many after her, she told me her story.  She had been a 40 year old mother of two when she received the same diagnosis. 

These are the small graces you receive in cancerland. 

And they happen to me every day.