I’m allowing myself to feel….to trust this journey….to heal as I am being healed. There are so many highs and lows these days. Yesterday I was feeling particularly blue when I wrote my blog. Right after I published that post, I got some sad news. I will be just fine, it’s nothing that isn’t going to work itself out. I’m not quite ready to announce it just yet, but I will be in a few days. Until then, I am trying to sort through the emotions, to feel them, to be angry and sad and angry and sad, then a little grateful, and then a little bit sad and angry again.

Today I decided to make my first retail therapy trip. I went out and bought a hammock. I’ve always wanted one, and I thought it would be good to spend some time relaxing outdoors, just thinking, reading, praying, meditating, healing, observing, or whatever seems like the right thing to do at the moment. Today, I was dozing off while listening to music. I learned of a new artist that really caught my attention (thanks, Pandora – Pandora and I are involved in a full blown love affair since I downloaded the app from my Droid.) ,.

Tristan Prettyman’s Electric (follow the link to the middle cd, 4th song if you would like to hear it). I immediately loved her smoky voice, and the style of writing in the lyrics really made me want to pick up a pen and start writing again (which I did by the way – it felt great. ). I tried to find a youtube video to post, but the live versions they had just didn’t do the song justice. Although, in the video, she was a bit reminiscent of a very straight-laced, vanilla Ani Difranco…..which took me straight back to high school and the song “Untouchable Face” – when teenage angst was getting the best of all of my girlfriends and I, and we would belt this song out in our car, windows down (Leslie, Jess, Jackie, Lisa…..ah, good memories!!!). I would post that video, just for old times sake, but the language is a bit strong. Google at your own risk.

Anyhow, retail therapy + alone time + good music + a little trip down memory lane was just the recipe I needed to start getting out of this funk. I’m still sad, but I’m trying to find all of the positive I can. It’s working. I’m feeling more settled, more trusting, less angry and less sad.

I <3 my new purchase. I plan on spending a lot of time just hanging out there. I think it's good for me. If you see me, honk, wave, stop and say hi. I like visitors.

I’m sitting here blogging today from chemo treatment #7. This is the start of the second half of my treatments. From here on out, the countdown to the end will begin. I have developed a little bit of neuropathy from the chemo, and today they are trying to figure out the best way to treat it. This will be my last treatment before school starts. No more time to just take it easy and rest – it will be interesting to see how this plays out. My white counts are always so low these days, as they are pushing me through treatment regardless of the count. I’ll have to be very careful to not get sick.

I am keeping this journal online for several reasons – mostly to keep family and friends updated on my progress. But, I’m also hoping this can help someone who is going through the same diagnosis and treatment as I am. So, I’m trying to be really real and honest. If I’m going to be honest, today is a hard day. I’m ready to be done with this. I’m tired of feeling tired – I want my body back. I’m emotionally spent at the moment. And the only reason I am writing this is because I battle with feelings of guilt when I face days like this. I know I just need to let it all out, to feel this stuff, and let it pass. I know how incredibly lucky and blessed I am – I never forget that. But, there are somedays where the toll of everything just comes crashing down. I don’t want to put this out there without showing both sides of the emotional coin. I don’t want someone else to feel like they have to battle through this and be all sunshine and rainbows everyday. There are cloudy, gloomy days. They pass. I know this one will pass.

Ah, I’ve already missed several days of posting for the August Break, but I’m less than worried about it. There are only so many hours in the day, and I just haven’t found the time to keep up with postings. I have been taking pictures though, and the other day while I was waiting at the Dr.’s office I took this one.

It was a cowboy boot and sundress kinda day.

The title of this post is a total lie – Those boots are horrendous for walking. They totally killed my right ankle and caused a huge blister, but I will certainly be wearing them again someday soon. Where i will NOT be wearing them is on my 30th birthday. The Chicago Lymphomathon happens to fall on my 30th birthday. I will be walking that day to raise money for the foundation that has helped research get to the point where it is today – for which I am so very, very grateful. Click on the link above to sign up to walk or donate. If you would like to join me on that walk, I would be so psyched to have you there with me. If not, any donation would be much appreciated.

Times like this often call for reflection. I had set a goal for myself earlier in the year – prior to diagnosis. I wanted to be healthier on my 30th birthday than I was on my 20th birthday. I had a very clear mental picture, a specific idea in mind of what that meant. Well, being diagnosed with cancer kinda changed that whole picture around. I haven’t been able to pursue those goals while undergoing treatment, but I have been able to revise what my definition of healthy is going to look like when I turn the big 3-0. I have responded so well to treatment, that I am choosing to believe by the time August 22nd rolls around I will be free of cancer. I’m looking at having 7 treatments under my belt at that point. After only 3 treatments all that was left was 1cm of what used to be a grapefruit sized mass. I really, really feel that it will be gone. I don’t know whether or not I will have a scan by then to confirm, but I’m giving myself that belief as my birthday present. Being healthy enough to walk a 5k, surrounded by people that love and support me, and have helped me maintain this positive outlook is by far the best thing I can imagine doing for this big day. While some may dread the day they turn 30, I am *so* excited. I’m ready to start this new decade – ready to leave 29 behind. It was a hard year in a lot of ways, but also so rich in lessons and growth. I’m so thankful for all that I have learned, and I’m taking taking those lessons and the good that came with them into the next chapter in my life.

As I went to type the title to this post, I was thinking about how it was August 2nd…..hmmm…..August 2nd…..why does that date sound…………

Oh my gosh…….it makes me really sad that I forgot this until now. Like, totally forgot that the subject of my first photo for the August Break is turning the ripe old age of 8 today (or 56, in his 4-legged years). Well, scrap the image I was going to upload here, ‘cuz I’m going to take a minute and take a little photo of my Tuffers with my phone.

My baby, my first dog, my first pet, my Tuff. We are having a little snuggle party, because as his mom, I know, that is what makes him most happy. He’s old and smelly and doesn’t get to get up on the furniture with us very often, so this is a treat. He loves nothing more than being all up in our biz. And, to be honest, I kinda love it, too. So, happy birthday old man! Your momma loves you more than it’s probably normal to love something that smells like you do. Just kidding. Sort of.

On another note, I am coming out of my 4 day chemo-fog that happens usually the Fri-Mon after chemo. I’m looking forward to an enjoyable week before treatment #7 next week.

Oh, August….how are you here already?!?!?!  I need to update this blog more often than I am, so I decided to take the August Break



The August Break

I have so much to talk about and share….one big thing I haven’t talked much about on here is my HAIR.  That topic is coming up soon……..Until then, here is my first photo share for the month – my first share of what hair I have left (I look like a baby bird!) – a photo taken with my first baby, Tuff.  <3 I haven’t been completely comfortable showing everyone a pic of myself in my current state of hair – so I’m going to ease into it.

Yesterday, after I received the good news I left the dr.’s office with those amazingly wonderful tears streaming down my face.  The office is in Merrillville, so I had about a 30 minute ride home.  I knew I needed some good music to accompany me on the drive, so I swung into the Best Buy there and picked up the new Melissa Etheridge cd.   Lately, I’ve been on a Luda and Eminem kick, so this was a bit of a different tune, to say the least. 

Now, I can’t say that I’ve ever been an Etheridge fan.  However, I had heard she wrote her latest cd after surviving breast cancer, and I felt like it may be just what I needed in that moment, on that ride home.  Oh, was that feeling right.  I popped in the cd and the first song resonated with my soul.  Like, it spoke to me, people.

In the past I have dealt with anxiety, specifically related to medical issues and death.  My anxiety was never debilitating, but it was present and strong enough that I knew I needed to address it.  This is not something that is easy for me to openly talk about.  I always felt very weak, and like something was “wrong” with me for having the anxieties that I did.  I knew my body’s response to natural occurrences and natural fears were abnormal.  And, because I knew that I thought I should be able to just stop it.  But, I couldn’t.

I spent about two years trying different avenues in order help myself find a solution to this issue.  As with my cancer, I feel very lucky that my anxiety was not at a level that was really, really serious.  I was able to navigate my way through several options, finally finding my way through my anxieties.  I am very happy that I do not need medication for this, although that was a route I did try.  I am by no means knocking medication, but I felt it was not the best choice for *me* and my body.  I found different ways of dealing with it, and am incredibly glad to say that throughout this whole ordeal I have only had one mild panic attack – and that was before I was even diagnosed.

With that being said, I am very aware of how important my thought patterns are.  I so strongly believe in mind over matter and the power of positive thinking.  I have been pretty amazed at how anxiety free I have been since being diagnosed with cancer.  I realize that this is a critical time for me and my mental well-being.  I am very aware of how my life has changed forever.  I am very aware that I will now be living in a reality where health issues that arise will always accompany the fear of the big C.  It’s just THERE.  Plain and simple.  I will be scanned and tested and monitored forever more to make sure I am cancer free (because I will be in 4 months, you know    ).  If I get an infection and a lymph node swells, well…..there is no way to NOT think about the possibilities.

But, somehow, I’ve managed to be ok with all of that.  I realize my life has changed, but I’m focusing on the good stuff.  I feel like I’ve gained so much more good than bad from this experience.  It’s impossible for me to feel sad (for too long), angry (for too long), or anxious (for too long) because I have SO MUCH to be thankful for and ecstatic about.

I chatted with my wonderful breast cancer survivor friend, MaryKay, about this, and I really appreciated her perspective.  She’s in the same boat as me, where we look at our cancer as something that GAVE us this positive outlook.  But, someone told her that she needed to take more credit for her attitude.  Lots of people encounter negative situations and they don’t, can’t pull the positive from the situation.  This person reminded MaryKay that she CHOSE to take the positive from cancer.

The reason I’m going into all of this is because of that song, Fearless Love, that I listened to yesterday.  Music can be such a moving experience, because I took from it something so personal….something so important to me at that moment.  One big piece of my anxiety was being afraid to let go of my fears.  I’m a worrier by nature, and for a long time I felt I *had* to worry about all the bad stuff that could happen in order for it not to happen.  Yes, believe me I realize, I don’t have that much power (and I realize that is a little OCD, but just go with me here).  Despite me “knowing” I didn’t really have power over those things, that was just the way my brain operated.  I was afraid to be too confident and happy – I was just waiting for the rug to be pulled out from underneath me.  Thankfully, I’ve gotten past that point but am very aware of how this cancer situation could quickly pull me back into that frame of mind.

So, when I heard the words yesterday……..

I am what I am and
I am what I am afraid of
Oh what am I afraid of?
I need a fearless love
Don’t need to fear the end
If you can’t hold me now
You will never hold me again
I want to live my life
Pursuing all my happiness
I want a fearless love
I won’t settle for anything less
Tears…tears….tears……I played that song over and over and over – the whole way home.  And, I took the long way.  And, I sang.  LOUD.  With the windows down and the air on.  ‘Cuz I wanted to. 

Hey Cancer – you can suck it.  You might be throwing some bad things my way, but they will pass.  I’m choosing to take all the joy and love and happiness that I can find in this situation – and too bad for you that there is way more of that than the icky stuff.  All that good stuff lasts long after all the bad stuff goes away anyhow, so – BOO-YAH!!  If I’m not an anxious mess over this experience, I know my anxiety will “never hold me again“.  I love my life, am beyond thankful for it, and I will love it fearlessly.  I won’t settle for anything less.

I know I haven’t kept up with the blog very well.  The good news is the reason for that is because, for the most part, my cancer journey so far has been pretty tolerable.  So I’ve been enjoying my summer, working on new photography projects, and taking the time to rest when I need to do so.   I’ve had my icky moments, but for the most part I am overwhelmed with gratitude and thankfulness for the ease of this journey.  There are so many things I want to write about on here, and I will write about on here, but for now I just want to share a little bit of news with you.

A lot of people comment on how positive I am about this whole situation.  And, I agree – I am.  But, of course, I have my moments.  Luckily, they don’t come very often, and when they do they pass quickly.  I think the *worst* moment was during my appointment with Lisa, my oncologist’s NP.  It was right before I started chemo, and she was going over the 4 different chemo drugs I was going to be given and their respective side effects.  Then I was given a holy celery* how in the heck am I going to remember all of this comprehensive run down of instructions on how I need to behave now that I am a cancer patient.  Then, after she went over all of that information, I was given a paper to sign.  This paper basically stated that I understood the risks of chemotherapy.  That I understood, although it was not the intent of my treatment, that I could die.  DIE.  It was at that moment that I think it *really* hit me.  Yes, obviously, the fear and thoughts of death always come up with cancer.  And, I realize how lucky I am to have such a treatable cancer that does not have a sizable mortality rate attached to it’s name.  But, in that moment, I broke.  I allowed the tears to fall – and boy did they.  I allowed the anger to flow.  I allowed the “it’s-not-fair-that-at-29-I-have-to-permanently-damage-my-body-with-drugs-in-order-to-live-and-sign-a-freaking-paper-about-dying” feelings to all come out pouring out.  And, that meant that I just sat on the examining table and cried really hard while my mom and Lisa hugged me.  You would think it was the moment I found out I had cancer that would have been the worst, but it was something about seeing all of that junk on paper and having to willingly sign my name in black and white to it that did me in.  But, like the other moments, that one passed.  The tears dried, and we moved on.

Today, I saw Lisa for the second time.  Again, today, I dissolved into a mess of tears in her office.  She gave me the official news that my PET scan last week showed all but ONE sight of lymphoma is GONE.  Everything in my neck and shoulder area has completely dissolved.  The mass in my mediastinum is only ONE POINT THREE FREAKING CENTIMETERS now.  I don’t have the official size from when I started treatment, but it was the biggest mass that I had – the size of a grapefruit.  This all happened with three chemotherapy treatments.  I could feel a difference in my body – I knew it was working.  I had even read the PET scan report because it was delivered to my house last week.  So, I knew the news was probably good, but it was a lot of medical mumbo-jumbo that I couldn’t decipher confidently.  In that moment when Lisa told me the good news I allowed the joy to flow.  I allowed the pent up “I’m-too-afraid-to-be-too-optimistic-because-what-if-it’s-not-good-news” feelings to fly away as the feeling of relief and ecstatic gratefulness poured down my face in the form of tears.  Oh how good it felt to be crying because of good news!!!!!!  That was at about 4:00 this afternoon, and I can’t seem to shut off the tears completely.  They just keep coming.  This is by far the longest “moment” I’ve had, and at this point I don’t care if I end up crying into next week – the tears are tears of joy, and I’m so glad they are here.

My cancer is STAGE 2!!!!!!    I have been waiting ever so patiently since May 7th for the results.  The University of Chicago called yesterday and reported that there was no cancer in my bone marrow, so the worry of Stage 4 cancer is now behind me.            I knew the chances were slim (probably under 20%), and every Dr. I saw said they would be shocked if it came back positive, so I was very optimistic.  But, to be able to KNOW – to hear it, and say it, and celebrate it feels flipping and utterly fantastic.

So, here is what has been going on.  I started my chemo on Monday, May 10th.  I had a port put in, so I am receiving my chemo through that.  I am on ABVD, and I go every two weeks for treatment at Cancer Health Treatment Center in Merrillville.  I really, really like my oncologist, Dr. Tothy.  He was behind me 100% on rushing to get all of the necessary testing done so I could get started with treatment ASAP, which of course, would get me finished with treatment ASAP.  He didn’t scold me when I showed him the tattoo I got a few days before chemo started that wasn’t healing so well (side-note: probably NOT the smartest thing to do a few days before chemo, but when your 20 year old niece comes to you and wants to tattoo *your* name on *her* body to show her support, well…..I morphed quickly into a puddle and jumped with my puddle-y feet at the chance to join in with her).

Tabby’s Tattoo…on her foot.

My tattoo….on my foot.  “trust your journey”  And, it is in my own handwriting!!

He even supported me in my quest to start an 80/20 Raw Diet (more on this later) in order to give my body every opportunity to heal itself and stay as healthy as possible during chemo and beyond.  I know some Dr.’s would really frown upon that, but he was totally awesome about it when I brought it up.  I *love* the fact that he is on top of his game, and consults with the Dr.’s at the University of Chicago.  I have treatment right in his office so he and his wonderful staff are right there if any problems should arise – as they did on the day of my second treatment.

My white counts were too low the day of my second chemo treatment, so it had to be postponed for a week.  Apparently, this is normal and they will now be giving me Nulesta shots on the day after treatment to prevent this from happening again.  I went in for this today.  These shots are slow acting, and will peak on day 14.  The side effects are bone and joint pain.  Joy.  I’m sure it will be more annoying than anything, and I’ll be fine.  Speaking of side effects here is the breakdown of what happened after my first treatment.

Leaving Chemo for the 1st time:  Honestly, I felt a little buzzed.  It was strange.  I came home and laid down and took about a two hour nap, got up and ate dinner, and then went to bed early.

Day 1:  I woke up feeling FREAKING FANTASTIC.  I swear, Day 1 was like a little present from the heavens.  For the first day in a month my back didn’t ache.  I had SO MUCH energy and was literally ecstatic about how good I felt.  I walked 6 miles that night and enjoyed every tiny, precious second of it.

Day 2-3: I felt like I was in a little bit of a “chemo fog”  I continued to work during this time, but I just wasn’t quite myself.  I felt like I was having blonde moments all day, instead of the occasional like on a normal day.    I also was graced with my first visit from Mr. Heartburn, and can now completely sympathize with my husband who has it horribly if he doesn’t take Nexium everyday.

Day 4-6:  These days were the hardest.  I stayed home from school on Day 4, which was a Friday and just slept pretty much all day.  I had really bad pain in my teeth and mouth, but no mouth sores popped up.  Thank goodness for that, as that is a pretty common side effect.  On Saturday and Sunday, I was experiencing a LOT of pain in my chest, neck, and shoulders.  This was to be expected, as that is where my masses are located.  It was uncomfortable and annoying, but also a sign to me that the chemo was working!!!  After Day 3 that big lymph node in my neck was no longer visible.  How awesome is that?!?!?  I can now put on my shirts and style my hair without feeling like I am choking myself.  That was SUCH a relief, that the pain was well, well worth it. 

Day 7:  Nothing too much to report.  A bit of pain and that’s it.  However, my heart hurt very badly this day, as I had to say goodbye to my niece Tabby, as she left for Alaska that afternoon.  I am so excited for her to start her new life, new marriage, and all the new adventures that come along with this time in her life.  I have become so accustomed to having her right down the road and watching her grow up, that is was very, very hard to say goodbye.  She will be home at the beginning of July, and I CAN’T WAIT to see her. 

Day 8-9:  I had to leave school early on that Tuesday and had the worst migraine Of. My. Life.  Unfortunately, it lasted until about 11 a.m. on Wednesday.  I don’t know if this was related to the chemo or what, but it was horrendous.  After 11  on Wednesday, though, I felt fantastic again and beside a little more back pain, I sailed smoothly through the weekend.

Day 15:  I was supposed to get chemo this day, but the low white counts delayed that from happening.  I was sad to have it delayed.  However, considering it was the last week of school I was hopeful that this meant I wouldn’t have to miss the last day of school with the kids, which was  Friday.  That was the day that hit me hardest in the last treatment.

Speaking of the end of the school year…..I just have to mention again how incredibly blessed I was with this interesting, quirky, silly group of kids.  They supplied me with lots of hugs, support, and laughter in these past few months.  I am *heartbroken* right now because it looks as if my phone somehow wiped out the pics and videos I planned on uploading here to share with you.  These kids kept me ROLLING the last week of school.  They would break into impromptu songs about chemo, radiation, and cancer.  It was seriously hilarious.  Some of the original lyrics included, “You’ve got CHEMO BRAIN!!!”, “Radiation is like the beach, just not as fun.  You might lose your hair, but then you’ll get to rock a sweet, ginger wig”  I’m doing these songs no justice, but I have showed just about everyone close to me and we all have just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.  5th graders are generally a quirky group, but these guys took the cake.  I also lost one of my favorite pics ever.  After I was told by my Dr. to wear a mask at school, I had a little girl come in with a mask on her face.  She said if I had to wear one, she would too.  We took a pic together, and I’m crossing my fingers to find a way to get back these lost images.

Here is a pic I do have from the second to last day.  It was the 2nd Annual End-0f-The-Year Paper Fight.  I miss these guys already!!

There will be more news to come on hair, wigs, fertility, and my 30th birthday!!!    For now, I’m off to prepare for a newborn session this morning.  Thank you to every single one of you for the love, comments, prayers, thoughts, cards, food, books, plants, gifts, etc.  I can’t begin to tell you all enough how much the love and support means to me.  It is amazing to me that I can actually *feel* the love and support each day.  When I was feeling miserable, I had my moments.  Moments when I thought there was no way I could stand to feel this way for 6 more moths to come.  But, it never failed that I would be uplifted by someone – one of you that made that moment more bearable.  Because of that I can honestly say I’ve never had a bad day.  I am more thankful than ever for my life, my family, my friends, and each moment that I get to experience and share with people around me.  Thank you for being a part of this crazy journey with me.  Love you all!!!

The day I was diagnosed went by so fast.  Actually, that whole weekend went by in a flash.  Saturday morning, I had to make a few more phone calls to friends/family that were wondering what was going on.  I had my very first best friend, my childhood best buddy, my near and dear to my heart friend for 25 years coming up to visit.  Leslie and I don’t get to see each other very often, and I treasure the time we get to spend together.  It couldn’t have been a better scheduled visit.  I spent that day visiting with so many friends.  I had to work for 2 hours that night, and then afterward we had a cookout and bonfire, and our house was filled with friends and family.  It was exactly what I needed, and I felt so incredibly happy and grateful for the people that I have in my life.

After that, the chaos began.

Make appointments.

Call doctors.

Decide on doctors.

Mayo Clinic.

Cancer Treatment Centers.

Local Doctors.

Chemotherapy.

Radiation.

Alternative approaches.

Fertility.

Advice.

Advice.

Advice.

Advice was flying from everyone, and I couldn’t possibly do what everyone thought I should.  I had a hard enough time trying to convince myself that I should even do what I thought I should do.  This is where the first real sense of fear started to work its way into my head.  I am terrified of the long term effects of chemotherapy and radiation.  Even though  I knew so little about my cancer and the staging yet, I was pretty sure that chemo and/or radiation was going to be the prescribed method of treatment.  It’s pretty standard, right?   I’m not afraid (that much) of losing my hair, feeling sick, aching bones, throwing up, feeling like overall crap due to what goes along with chemo treatments.  I know I’ll get through that even though it may totally SUCK.  What I am literally terrified of is the long term effects the chemo and radiation may have on my body.

I have a slight leaning toward the natural, alternative side to medical treatments. I’ve had acupuncture. I’ve taken a meditation class (Holla, Di!!  ). I believe in the body’s natural healing power. However, when it comes to CANCER I was paralyzed on how to make a decision that followed my belief that my body had the ability to heal itself with the proper help.  I looked into the Cancer Treatment Centers of America, and to me that felt like a great fit.  They treat with a lot of nutritional and spiritual support.  However, the numbers were not on their side when it came to being the “top” in the nation for cancer treatment.  With resources such as Northwester and the University of Chicago so close, it felt like I was being foolish not to take advantage of those resources.  Donnie was really pushing for me to go to the Mayo Clinic, but I couldn’t get into them until May 10th, almost a month away. Not to mention, I didn’t want to make the trip to Minnesota and stay up there for days when I could get the same testing done here at home.  My head was spinning with all of my choices.  I knew I had to see someone local to get testing done, but then where did I want my treatment?  Everyone had a different opinion, and it seemed like mine was changing by the moment. That was probably the most overwhelming moment of the whole process so far.

Never did I think I would be using a Trapper Keeper to keep my cancer documents organized.

The amount of information pouring in was insane.

What had to happen first and foremost was for me to get all of the testing done in order to determine the staging of the cancer.   I had to make sure I got an appointment with a local oncologist asap so that I could get the testing started.  That Monday, I did get an appointment with a local oncologist, Dr. Tothy.  I was going to see him on Wednesday.  Another task to complete that Monday was to tell all 63 of my 5th grade students that I had cancer.  That was one heck of an interesting experience.  I have quite the group of kids this year.  They are silly to the core.  They are so strange by choice.  They TRY to be weird, and love it when they succeed.  I adore them for who they are, and let them be their goofy selves as much as I can.  I knew it would be a matter of mere moments before someone cracked a joke or one of them popped off an inappropriate or weird comment.  And, they didn’t disappoint.  It made the process, actually, quite a bit easier.  Sure, I had some students that got very emotional, and we hugged and talked and cried a little, but we always had someone right around the corner trying to make us laugh.  It was actually much easier than I thought, and I never appreciated my group of kids more than I did in that moment.  It’s hard to take yourself and being “sick” too seriously when you have an 11 year old asking you, “So, if you do die, can we all ride in your Hearse?” or “If you lose your hair, you should totally get, like, a tie-dyed fro wig.  Or maybe a mow-hawk.  Yeah, a hot pink one!!!!”

The rest of the week was a blur of appointments and testing and – Oh yeah, some SERIOUS FREAKING PAIN.  Tuesday afternoon at school, I threw my back out.  I threw my back out to the point that I could almost not even make the 5 minute drive home from school. Talk about timing, right?!?!  At one point, I was lying on my living room floor flat on my back (it was the only way I could relieve the pain).  Because I was lying on my back, the mass in my mediastinum made it very hard to breathe, and I would start coughing.  The coughing KILLED my back, but I couldn’t stop.  I was miserable, miserable, miserable.  Thank GOD for good medication and my friends and family that carted me around to all of my appointments.  There was no way I could have accomplished any of that on my own. I spent the next week going to appointment after appointment, sometimes 2 or 3 appointments a day,  for my back, PET scan, CT scan, oncologist, family doctor, chiropractor, second opinion oncologist, and a fertility specialist.

After the testing was completed, it was just a matter of waiting for the results to come back.  I felt a lot of anxiety over the PET scan.  I couldn’t wait to get the results.  For those of you who don’t know ( because I didn’t know this 3 weeks ago), when you have a PET scan done, you are injected with radioactive material, and then put through a CT scan like procedure.  The cancerous parts of your body will light up on the scan.  I really didn’t feel like I had anything to worry about, but I also didn’t think that I even had cancer in the first place.  I was almost afraid to be optimistic – afraid that I would think positive and then the scan would come back with my body lit up like a Christmas tree.  I was terrified that the cancer had spread and it would be bad news.

My anxiety was a little on the high side while I was waiting for the results.  Good thing I have a lot of distractions. 

Two of my students that made violet ribbons for the entire 5th grade to wear.

One class with all of their ribbons/bracelets.

Paper bracelets “Hodgkin’s Cancer Cure”

Look closely and you can see a purple extension. 

It’s impossible to be anything but grateful and have a heart so full it’s ready to explode when you see something like this at your job!!

April 16th, 2010.  A Friday.  The birthday of my best friend.  The birthday of  another close friend, my college roommate. The day of my first post-surgical check-up.  The day I was diagnosed with cancer.

Leaving the Dr.’s office after being diagnosed with cancer was a completely surreal experience.  I knew my life was forever changed. I rode down the elevator with a new label that wasn’t present on the ride up.  On that ride down, my Dad was talking about cancer treatments and a little, old lady with very short, newly grown hair interrupted him to tell me her story of surviving breast cancer at the age of 72.  She was such a spunky little spirit, and as we parted ways she promised that I would be in her prayers.  I would be in her prayers.  Wow.

As I try to remember the details of that day, it is very clear I was in auto-pilot.  I knew there were people that were waiting for the news.  I knew I needed to tell the people close to me.  So, the process started.  I left the Dr.’s office and went straight to school.  I told my principal, and she cried.  I am lucky enough to not only love my job, but work with a staff that is like family.  I knew I would be well-supported there, and I have been.  My job is a complete blessing to my life, and there is no place that I want to be more than there through this whole ordeal.  My work keeps my spirits up, and my goal is to keep myself healthy enough to teach as much as I can.  It’s good for my heart and soul, and I can’t be without it.

I left school and went straight to MaryKay’s house.  MaryKay and I have become close friends over the past year.  There was no real “reason” we became friends.  We didn’t really have any mutual friends.  We didn’t see each other that often.  Yet, something clicked.  It was almost as if we sought each other out, like we knew we were supposed to be friends.  And, if you asked me why 6 months ago, I would have told you it was to be a support system for one another as we  both went through a somewhat similar, emotionally taxing time.  HAHAHAHA.  Like I had any clue!!!!  MaryKay was the first friend I told that I had cancer because I had to call her, literally, 5 minutes after I was diagnosed in order to get the name of her oncologist.  MaryKay is a breast cancer survivor, and has been my light at the end of the tunnel for the past few weeks.  I walked right into her house, and she hugged me and told me that I was gonna kick the $%^& outta this cancer, and that I was gonna be ok because there wasn’t any other choice.  That was that.  We sat down and she talked to Donnie and I for probably two hours.  Chemo. Side Effects. Hair loss. Emotions.  Support.  Doctors.  Recovery.  Those were topics that didn’t really matter to me a few hours ago, and I was sitting there soaking up every bit of information I could take in.  I love her so much and now really know exactly why she was placed in my life.  She has given me courage that I didn’t have.  She has given me strength through her experience.  She has given me insight where I didn’t even know I needed insight.  She has given me hope when I needed it the most.  MaryKay, I am trusting my journey, just like you alway tell me.  Lord knows, it’s a better one because I can call you my friend.

MaryKay (rocking her *fantastic* wig – she is the only reason I am not afraid to lose my hair) and I.

I left and went home and continued on in the process of informing the ones that I love.  I had two more of my very closest friends to tell.  That was the next step.  One took the news well.  One did not.  After that, I found myself alone for the first time.  Alone.  It didn’t feel so great.  I wasn’t ready for that.  A few of my colleagues had heard the news and were ready to take me out for dinner.  I happily accepted.  Donnie didn’t want to go out for dinner with us, and all of a sudden I was hit with an enormous amount of guilt.

Over the course of the day, it had come out that Donnie knew about this for a week.  The surgeon gave him and my Mom the heads up after my surgery that she was pretty sure this was lymphoma.  Then, on Monday, she called him to let him know one test came back positive.  In order to give a 100% certain diagnosis they would need the rest of the tests results back.  That wasn’t going to be until the end of the week.  They decided not to tell me until it was certain.  It also gave him time to give my parents the news.  Looking back on everything, I am incredibly grateful that I didn’t have to make that phone call to my parents.  I don’t know if I would have handled that very well.  I still haven’t asked Donnie how he broke the news.  I know I will someday, probably soon, but I just don’t think I’m ready to hear that yet.

I cannot imagine what it must have been like to be in his place.  My heart aches thinking about it.  When I think about that, I am thankful that I am the one that has the cancer.  I know that might sound like some brave thing to say, but it feels so selfish.  I know I’m going to be fine. I know I am going to beat this.  I don’t think I could handle being in his shoes. I think I would have crumbled by now.  He had to be the strong one.  I would have been a mess.  One. Hot. Mess.  So there I was making dinner plans and leaving him home.  Normally, that wouldn’t have been a big deal.  But, that night, it felt so wrong.  He had just went through a week of pure torture, and I felt so so so guilty to be leaving his side.  I knew, though, that I wasn’t ready to spend a night on the couch watching TV.  I couldn’t physically just sit there, the two of us, like it was some normal night at home.  I was pretty sure I would start to lose it, and I didn’t want to.  He understood, but just wasn’t in the mood to hang out with the girls.  He had a friend coming over to hang out, so that made me feel a little bit better.  My friends took me out.  We ate and drank and talked and laughed and hugged and it felt nice to know things were still normal in some ways.  My diagnosis would be changing a lot, but it wouldn’t be changing everything.

I called it a night 11, and was finally really alone for the first time.  I spent the next hour and a half crying. I cried for myself.  I cried for Donnie.  I cried for my parents.  I cried for my friends.  I cried out of fear and uncertainty.  I cried out of selfishness.  I cried because it just felt good.  I cried because I couldn’t hold it back. When I was done crying, I went to bed and laid my head on my pillow with a new reality looming over me.  I said my prayers through tears that I thought were exhausted.  Those prayers were filled with more “thank yous” than any prayers since my Dad made it through surgery the night he almost died. Yes, I was sad and scared and shook.  But, more than anything, I was thankful.