Cancerversary: November 12, Two Years

Cancerversary,
Yesterday was mine.
Two years, gone like 10,
Body torn and insides blind.

The day came and went,
Without celebration and cheer.
For I am still fighting,
Fighting harder this year.

Overwhelmed is my mind,
Good days are few.
Cancer teaches nothing,
Yet everything is anew.

I learn every day.
Myself, I am still exploring,
For I am as much the mystery,
As this senseless disease, imploring.

But what I have learned,
I value so dear.
Not ashamed to admit now,
I live every day with fear.

Not ashamed to cry,
Tears stream like a sheath,
Like pages of a book,
Giving way to light beneath.

My light shines brightly.
My soul tells all.
My strength is growing.
My light brightens tall.

Love is the answer,
To this silly game.
He will love me through it,
The line behind him, not vane.

God, family and friends,
Will not let us fall.
Blessed are we on this day.
Cancerversary, and all.

Chemo Calls My Pillow

Chemo calls my pillow,
Not much I can do.
Choices to make.
Decisions, thoughts of you.

Physical limitations,
Around every turn,
No pool, no meat,
Events skipped, I learn.

What do I skip?
Navigation is key.
Disappointment imminent,
Pains hearts, daily.

Gets to my soul,
Guarded and fair.
But happy reflections and hope,
Conquer sadness, in there.

It is the moments I fight for,
Surface thoughts so true,
Managing frustration,
Grieving, anew.

Positivity, so critical,
I banish sad thoughts.
Faith, hope and trust,
Tying their knots.

My friends lend affection,
And my family is my wall.
Protecting and reminding me,
It is OK to fall.

Into a sleep that is so needed,
A rest that is well deserved.
As I fight off this monster,
Called cancer, absurd.

An Adventure in Raw Foods

As I helped to pack my husband's lunch today, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I am so proud of my husband for his efforts in eating healthy and for his willingness to change his eating habits. For those of you who know Steve, you may be slightly astounded by what makes up his diet of late. For breakfast, I make us eggs with spinach, zucchini, tomatoes and bell pepper, using rice milk instead of regular. We split a piece of Ezikiel toast between the two of us and share a couple of  early morning moments together (usually) before he races off to work.

As a teacher with little time to eat during the day, he brings dry, plain oatmeal with a handful of blueberries and a touch of brown sugar to eat at his school's "Nutrition Break". Not originally a fan of blueberries, he now enjoys the flavor that the bursting blueberries add to his oatmeal, after it is cooked in his classroom microwave. At his request, for his lunch, I packed him two small oranges, an apple, an organic yogurt and a Trader Joe's frozen entree. My "meat and potatoes" man is experimenting with healthier foods and vegetables now on a regular basis. And for him, this is a big deal. And I am extremely proud of him.

But now comes our biggest adventure. Raw foods. Yesterday, I met with my absolutely fabulous health coach, Tammy Moretti. (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) I told her that I felt that it was up to me to cure my cancer. As much as I trust and love my oncologist, Dr. Sweet, I do not believe that Kaiser is equipped to cure my cancer. I am exploring other medical options, of course and I will take Dr. Sweet's tremendous knowledge into consideration. However, I believe it is up to me to cure my cancer, through a combination of therapies designed for my mind, body and spirit.

That being said, Tammy recommended a "raw" foods diet for me. We talked about how raw foods could help to aid my body in healing, helping it to function on the highest level possible. Before Tammy made this recommendation, I had researched this possibility and my gut instinct told me that this was my best bet. Truth be told, I am not eating a lot of meat right now. Drawing protein from raw almonds and eggs, I feel good and do not really miss it. While the thought of eating mostly raw foods scares me a bit, I think I can do this.

Tammy challenged me to find a new recipe a week for our Vitamix. She said that my Vitamix and I are going to be best friends. She also reminded me that I should not try to go raw over night but that I should start replacing out meals little by little. Finally, and most importantly, she warned me that my diet was going to be about 90% different than that of the kids. Becoming more of a "short-order" cook in having to prepare two different meals will be hard. However, we talked about how my diet would have a positive influence over theirs over time, which makes me very happy.

And then there is Steve. When I discussed it with him, he lovingly asked, "What do you need from me?" I think he might be trying some of what I eat, but I expect it will be a slower and less complete progression for him. That is more than OK.

So last night, needing eggs and milk, I dragged my incredibly tired self to the Trader Joe's. As I wandered around, I picked out a couple of things that I needed to make raw Hummus. My first raw and Vitamix recipe. They did not have everything I needed...but then again, I have a birthday coming up. I think I can wait until after then to venture out into the raw foods way of life. In the interim, I am going to enjoy cooking eggs for me and Steve in the morning...and have birthday cake on Saturday night and celebrate a new decade with my friends and family.

And if you come to visit me next week...I might just offer you some raw hummus and crackers.

Live a Life Inspired

I woke up writing my blog this morning. Different phrases and titles were floating through my head invading my psyche and  waiting to be translated into something legible and interesting to read. As I type this, I cannot say that I have completely decided how the flow of this post will come to life. There is so much I want to say and my thoughts are pretty much all over the place, but here it goes.

Last weekend, I received a beautiful email from a high school friend. Her heartfelt email described how my story had inspired her to live a better life, be a better mother and make better use of her time. As always, when someone describes how I inspire them (not to make it sound like it happens everyday), I read in both disbelief and deep appreciation. To me, my outlook on my battle with breast cancer seems like the typical outlook/response of any responsible, loving parent. I know I have stated this time and again. However, I am beginning to understand that what seems ordinary to me is extraordinary to others.

Sunday night, the email on my mind, I was lying in bed really not thinking about much, yet thinking about everything. It was there that it hit me: Maybe I was put here on this earth to inspire others. And assuming that is the case, how blessed am I? How many people can say that they have inspired people and have documentation, like the lovely email I received. What a wonderful legacy I have been granted.

As much as I am struggling with my disease and recognizing the long road I have ahead of me, the sense of having a greater purpose brings me great comfort. And I hope it does to Steve, my children and my family. The fact that someone might take extra time with their kids, help a neighbor and/or enjoy their life a little bit more because of knowing my story is a gift that makes me tremendously happy.

I had a fantastic talk with a neighbor yesterday, whose family has had a heck of a journey as of late. In the midst of our conversation, I spoke of my Sunday-night epiphany. Suddenly, she jumped up and ran downstairs (we were at her house), returning with a bracelet that says these words: "Live a Life Inspired". As she put the bracelet on my wrist, she said that the bracelet had been given to her but she thought that I should have it.

"Wow and thank you" was all I could say. Did I mention that I was blessed?

The Biggest Secret I Ever Kept: Cancer Rears its Ugly Head

The pain in my side started two months ago. Still hurting a bit from my surgery on my right side, the pain started to radiate down to my hip. My plastic surgeon recommended I stopped doing everything: no twisting, lifting, pulling, pushing, etc. Happy to comply, after about two weeks, my muscle on my side stopped hurting enough that I could tell that the pain was not radiating down...but was starting on my side and radiating up.

The doctor's appointments started then. One and then two, in the same week. Both doctor's ordered ultrasounds, each a different type. One doctor was convinced that I had colon cancer, the next a gallstone. I got an appointment fairly quickly and had an ultrasound two weeks ago Friday. My primary care doctor called me while I was on vacation with my family in Tahoe. He had seen something on my liver in the ultra sound and I needed a CT scan. At this point, I was in quite a bit of pain. However, the excitement of vacation was a great distraction and the pain was bearable. We drove home from Tahoe on Friday and took Harrison to a soccer tournament Saturday. By Sunday morning, I was in so much pain that I could not fathom getting through the day. I took myself to the ER, where they did my CT scan, gave me something for pain and referred me to oncology.

I called in sick to work on Monday. Steve and I met with my oncologist, Dr. Sweet who confirmed with the ER doctor had told me, I had cancer in my liver. Dr. Sweet showed us five-six spots on my liver, one was as big as a golf ball, but flat. He ordered a liver biopsy for Wednesday to confirm his assumption and determine which the tumors type. He assumed it was triple negative, like my breast cancer. He assumed it was metastatic cancer. Not good news.

I conferenced with my supervisors at work throughout the week, working only on Tuesday and Thursday. We agreed that I would not disclose my cancer's return until I knew my course of treatment. I was happy not to talk about it at work. To keep this secret. I knew I had to leave my job for a while and wanted to preserve my last days of normalcy.

On Friday, I saw Dr. Sweet again. At that point, all Dr. Sweet knew was that the tumors were cancer, as confirmed by the biopsy. So, we talked about a plan for treatment on the assumption that it is the metastatic breast cancer and triple negative. The reality of the situation is that this cancer is not curable. The goal of treatment will be to slow the pace of the cancer's growth by any means possible. That being said, after discussing several options, I opted to start chemotherapy on Monday. I am starting Taxol, every week, three weeks on, one week off.

Since this has all happened so fast, I thought I would start with this option, while allowing myself time to research clinical trials, other drugs and alternative therapies. I have changed my diet considerably, cutting out refined sugars and animal fats, adding flax, lots of Vitamin C and E and increasing my intake of fruits and vegetables.

How are we doing? We are completely overwhelmed. The kids are each handling this in their own way. Maddie talks about it; Harrison does not. Steve is hanging in there. He starts teaching again tomorrow, as he is on a year-round schedule. That combined with my new battle is a lot for him to handle. However, I know that he will be the rock star that he always has been once we get into our new routine.

I am sure I am leaving out a lot of things in this entry. I am tired but now that my colleagues know what is going on, I wanted to post the gist the recent happenings. I am trying to stay positive. Trying to be normal, enjoying special moments. I will work a couple more days this week at best and then will be home to focus my energies on this fight. And I know I will need all of the energy that I can muster.

Latissimus Dorsi Breast Reconstruction Completed

On March 21, my long awaited latissimus dorsi breast reconstruction (on my right) was completed at Kaiser Hospital by Dr. Gregory Scott and my PA, Cindy Carson. I have not felt much like writing since, but not so much because of the physicality of the process or my lack of brain power that followed. But, because I could not figure out how to best describe my some of my feelings that hit me like an unexpected wave that hits an innocent beach.

In many, many ways, this was my hardest surgery yet. I was an emotional wreck, while in the hospital. This was also the most stressful surgery on my body. (Rather than explaining the entire surgery on my blog, I have included a link to an explanation of the procedure that you can review by clicking here.) The pain is easy for me to handle. I feel a bit like an old pro. I was prescribed narcotics. I am off of them now that the doctors are allowing me to take Ibuprofen.

I think what I could not wrap my head around was the the fact that my family and I had the least outside support to help with my recovery. I did not come home to flowers or a lot of cards. Only a couple of people called to check in, though many people responded on Facebook to my husband's post that I was out of surgery (thank you!). Perhaps, what was not known, perhaps by our own accord was that this surgery is the event where we needed the most every day help.

I know many would consider this an optional surgery. The cancer being gone kind of takes the drama out of the need for the surgery itself. However, the surgery was not optional in my mind. The cancer tore me down and for my own self image, I needed to be put back together.

I do not mean to sound like I am complaining, either. People are busy; I do not take this personally. My cancer journey has been a long and arduous process. We have had phenomenal support throughout. I just wanted to point out that those of us who have this surgery have little use of your arms. In addition, movement involving the twisting of the back is strongly discouraged. Repetitive motion is also discouraged. To put this in context, I cannot close a car door, carry a purse, sort laundry (much less do the laundry), load the dishwasher, cook dinner or carry anything more than a quart of milk. Two weeks after the surgery and off all narcotics, I have just started to drive again. Though, because of my limited ability to twist, my reaction times are a bit slower. That being said, I am not quite up for running errands, which is OK, because I still cannot push a shopping cart.

So, when I thought about framing this post, I thought it was important to stress these facts. And not because I want everyone to call me tomorrow and ask what I need. I wanted to put these thoughts out here for the next person. The person who might be reading this post and be planning for their own surgery. The person whose best friend is having this surgery and they want to know how to help. The person who does not know what to expect for their spouse.

On a positive note, my new boobs amaze me. To look down and see the diamond of back skin strategically forming the perfectly round shape of my new breast, blows me away. The scars are dark and ominous right now, but I know that they will fade with time. The new, nasty scar across my back does not bother me, because I do not have to look at it, a saving grace. I also have a new, perfectly round breast on my left side, thanks to the implant and the plastic surgery that replaced my original breast (a completely different procedure also performed on March 21). I am happy and proud of all I have endured to get me to this spot. I am proud of my parents, kids and family for helping me to get to this spot. I am especially proud of my husband for all he has endured emotionally and physically (i.e. running the household) helping me to get to this spot.

In closing, I want to reiterate that I did have support and am very grateful. Just in comparison to the support of my past surgeries, it was minimal. I also wanted to thank my mom for doing laundry and my mom and dad for running me and the kids to their practices, games, school events and doctor's appointments; my girlfriends and our family who brought us meals the first week; my brother and Kelly for coming from Portland to be with us that first weekend; and, the people who called and checked in/sent cards. We are truly honored that you took the time to do so. It made a big difference and most importantly, helped me relax at a time where my emotions were all over the place. Which could be another post all together, or maybe better yet, another poem, with the title, "A New Beginning."

Crying While No One is Watching

Nearly 18 months have passed,
Surviving this long.
So much determination,
So much, so strong.

But when the house gets quiet,
The lights dimmed low.
I cry while no one is watching,
Sometimes hard, sometimes slow.

I cry for my body,
Now tattered and scorn.
I cry for the decisions I've faced,
At times, frightful and forlorn.

I cry for my husband,
And the stress he has faced.
My children, so resilient,
Smiling with grace.

I cry for my parents,
And the rest of my family too.
I can only guess what it feels like,
To watch your child go through.

I cry for those who have gone before me,
Some surviving, some not.
My sisters in this disease,
Too many, hard fought.

My crying makes it hard,
On those who surround me.
So I reserve the tears,
And hold on to fear tightly.

For as a mother, a wife,
A sister, cousin, colleague and friend.
I know you are there.
But, I'm not willing to bend.

From the strength you hold high,
Regarding my truth.
You cling to so dearly,
Your passion is proof.

So, I cry while no one is watching,
Watching others cry too.
Knowing deep down that it's almost over,
One more day, then I am through.

One last surgery,
One last scar.
Hopeful, excited and scared,
Knowing exactly how far.

How far I have been.
How you've been there too.
Thank you, my friends.
Thank you, thank you.

So is the journey really ending?
Most definitely not.
My cancer journey is though,
One last shot.

Glimpsing life after cancer,
Normalcy returning,
My journey moving forward,
Wheels of life turning.

....And no more crying when no one is watching....