It’s been a long time since I updated on my blog.  I think I just haven’t felt like I’ve had anything to say despite so many changes.  But I find myself with more down time than I’ve had in many, many years lately so it’s time for an update.  My cancer diagnosis came a little over a year ago.  Before I go any further, I’ll tell you that the doctors are considering me to be in remission.  They’re surprised even though I always told them that we’d get there.  I’ve been told that the treatment I am currently still getting, will hopefully keep the cancer away for 20 years.  I’ve told them that it’s going to stay away permanently, but I’ll still take my oncologists advice to finish the treatment just for grins.

Since I last wrote a lot has happened.  I’ve had surgery for my doctor to remove the tissue around the tumor sites and remove all of the lymph nodes under my right arm.  That was a great success and the pathology reports came back with clear margins.  After surgery, I began radiation.  I had 44 rounds of external radiation and 1 round of internal radiation.  That was not the most fun time in my life.  I don’t know if it was just the mental aspect of being in a cancer ward every single day for over 8 weeks or the fact that I had to take that time off at work and missed my students and co-workers but it was a push.  Everyday I had to will myself to get on the train or in the car and drive over an hour each way for that 30 minute appointment.  Radiation kind of became my whole life for that 8 weeks and I am not someone who likes focussing on being sick.  I was surrounded by others who were also battling cancer and that was depressing.  There was the guy who had some sort of skin cancer and they had removed a portion of his face.  Another man had a mouth or gum cancer and he walked around with a napkin stuck to his chin to catch the uncontrollable drool.  The tall guy with only part of his jaw and no ear.  Bald people everywhere.  People with discolored skin.  And I was one of them.  And the reality hit me in the face like a brick wall.  I didn’t want to be there.  I didn’t want to see the same people, working endlessly on the stupid jigsaw puzzles that were in every waiting room.  It was a collaborative effort.  I placed a few pieces while I was waiting for my room to get set up.  And, everyday that puzzle would become more complete and the picture clearer until at the end of the week, it was finished.  By the next day, a new puzzle to work on would be on the table.  It just represented an endless cycle to me and it was depressing.  Everything about it.  I wanted to be at school, helping my kids, joking with my SPED team, sitting in classes.  I wanted to hang out with my friends and not think cancer.  My mom came to visit me and looking back, I should have insisted that it was just not the right time.  Of course as a mom, I understand her need to be there.  She just wanted to help me in any way that she could.  Most people who know me, know I don’t accept help very easily, even from my mom. I tried to make it fun because God knows I needed the distraction and I really wanted mom to see other parts of Europe, but I was just in a dark place and to this day, I hope I wasn’t too much of a downer.

My last round of radiation was internal.  It was not pleasant and I’m so glad I didn’t know what I was up for.  This was a time I was very grateful for the language barrier because I would have been scared out of my mind at the procedure that was done.  Rods were inserted into the breast tissue, completely through from one side to the other. My right breast was a medical shish-ka-bob.  Everyone who has ever experienced medical care in Belgium knows that while the medical care is good, they are not great at pain management.  For the internal radiation, I was given some sort of liquid sedative and that was it.  I can tell you that sedative was not enough.  I was holding the nurses hand so tightly, tears running down my face onto the operating table and I looked at my radiologist in the eyes and said ‘I can’t believe you can do this to women!’ and he said “I can’t believe women can tolerate it.”… and I could tell there was a genuine sadness to the pain he knew he was causing me.  Somehow, that two sentence conversation got me through the insertion of the next four rods.  Things got better after that.  My dear friend Kelly I. made me this incredible burn cream from her DOTERRA oils and my skin started to heal just in time to head to Iowa and Washington for Spring Break.

Many warnings came from friends who were either from Iowa or had lived there in the past about the weather being extreme and the towns being boring but, I didn’t care.  I was going to get to watch James play college baseball!  I was going to be able to see his girlfriend, Katie and meet some of his friends.  We got to make team lunches like any good past team mom.  At night we’d go to dinner, talk about our favorite parts of the day and sometimes swim at the hotel pool and hot tub afterwards.  Mark’s parents came for a couple of games and we were able to celebrate their upcoming anniversary together.  Military families know how difficult it can be to celebrate an anniversary in person so that was special for us.  Katie’s parents drove from the Chicago area to see a game and have dinner and that week flew by faster than most weeks.  It was a good thing I had a quick trip to Washington before we headed back to Belgium, otherwise I might have rented an apartment and stayed in Dubuque!  Washington was perfect but short.  Seeing my dad for the first time in three years was emotional for me.  He’s a man of few words unless it’s a joke or details about how to take care of the grass.  As anyone who knows me can imagine, I was not an easy teenager.  There were ups and downs with my poor parents a lot and I think it was harder on my dad that I was so difficult. I’ve always considered us a close family though so that time with Dad was important to me.  And my sweet nieces and nephews!!   So awesome to them and also a little sad too, knowing how much I’m missing of their lives by being in Europe.  We took an awesome day trip on a beautiful boat, did a Seattle Duck Tour and even explored a building with paranormal activity!  As we headed back to Belgium, I felt like the darkness in my heart from my radiation schedule was lifted.

It wasn’t long before it was time for James to come home for the summer.  The best feeling in the world is when your kids are all under one roof again and this was no exception.  Katie came for a visit too and we love the energy and laughter she always brings!  We spent time in England and James and Katie went back to Lock Bridge in Paris and found the lock that they’d placed a year earlier. When Katie had to return to the states, we cheered ourselves up with a weeks trip to Spain.  The island of Mallorca was beautiful and just what we needed!  The landscape ranged from beaches to mountains and even had some areas that were desserts.  We took a boat ride out to the other parts of the island and snorkeled, saw Mallorca penguins and spent a lot of down time at the private villa where we stayed.  The villa had a gorgeous view of the Mediterranean and the city lights.  That vacation was our celebration of Mark’s retirement, the recent doctors visit where we actually heard the word ‘remission’ for the first time and an upcoming new phase in our lives.

The next phase was a focus on Mark’s retirement.  For most it’s a somewhat scary prospect!  The military had been telling him what to do, where to do it, what to wear and when for the past 20 years.  It was time to move on.  We still are counting our blessings that he got the first job he applied for and interviewed with.  It reminded me of a conversation Mark and I had when we were dating.  I asked him where he saw himself in 20+ years.  He told me that he wanted to retire from the military and work for the Army Corps of Engineers.  We moved to Wiesbaden one month ago and Mark loves his job as the project manager of several projects.  Most of them are DoDDS schools and all of his projects are in the Bavaria region.  I cannot wait to go with him when he has to check in one building progress visits!  I foresee some beautiful trips in my future!  Jacqueline Molly has settled into school and loves it here too.  James was able to spend the first three weeks of our time in Germany with us and he was a huge help in the move!  We are all still missing him as he headed back to UD last week.  His summer was exciting too as he met up with a scout from the Toronto Blue Jays.  While he wasn’t drafted, he got some great pointers and drills that he will take back to school with him for fall ball.  He also got to pick out and customize a couple of bats by a bat company that sponsors the scout.  It was fun for all of us to be a part of that day!

And for me… it’s a little quiet here.  School has started.  I’m not working so I can focus on my health.  I’m not comfortable with the weight that I gained over the past year.  Some of it can be attributed to steroids, some from hormone medications and some from comfort foods.  I will be focussing on getting this weight off so I don’t need to buy a new wardrobe!  My port has become problematic.  I told Mark that my body knows what it wants, when it wants it and right now, my body seems intent on evicting the port.  It has been slowly shifting and lately, it feels like it’s going to pop out of my skin.  I’ve attached pictures that I had to send to my care team as it has gotten worse in the last ten days.  The doctors would prefer that the port stay in for three years.  The type of cancer I had has a high return rate.  They said that if it comes back, they will want to start chemo again right away and by keeping the port, we could get that going faster.  I need it to work for four more treatments and then it needs to come out, but that will be a negotiation with my care team.  They will either need to reinsert it deeper into my body or take it out and take our chances.  Overall it’s been a good fight.  I’m still swinging and my money is on me for the win.

Okay, I’m not a good blogger.  I’m just not.  I know there are people out there who blog on the daily.  Hopefully, that is their job because while they’re at the computer blogging, I’m doing important stuff – like cutting furballs off of my 18-year-old cat and facetiming with my sister and going to the many appointments which seem to make up a large portion of my time over the past 6 months.  Six months.  That’s how long its been since being told that I have cancer.  It feels like a lifetime ago.  In part because things have changed.  There was a viral video out there several weeks ago that showed cancer patients getting horrible makeovers.  The highlight was supposed to be the look of total shock on their faces at the big reveal, purposely giving them a feeling of carefreeness for even just a second.  My first thought was that I hoped someone would make it right and give them real makeovers.  It’s bad enough to be bald but to be photographed in a horrible wig and horrendous make-up AND a look of utter shock?  Not nice.  The overall message was right on though. I feel like I’ve lost a sense of being carefree.  The worry that is associated with this horrible disease can be overwhelming.  I watched one tiny scrape on my leg, send me to the hospital for four days after turning to a staph infection because I didn’t have enough white blood cells to heal the scrape.  And that’s just the beginning.  Every minor pain that I get, makes me wonder if the cancer has spread to that particular part of my body.  I worry about what the chemo has done as far as long-term effects.  I worry my bones and teeth are no longer as strong as they use to be.  I worry that the aggressive type of cancer I have will eventually return and that I will leave my children motherless.  These deep-seated fears haunt me.  Especially late at night when I’m trying to sleep and the house is quiet and I’m left alone with the feeling that I really am all alone.  I remember the days when I use to go to sleep with a million things on my mind… what I needed to get done the next day, what I didn’t get done that day, a funny thought of something my kids said…  I long for those days.  I am a positive person by nature.  There is a unique ability built inside me that allows me to pick myself up when I’m down, to see the good in situations, to move forward without looking back.  I still have it, but it’s not as instinctual as it use to be.  Now, I have to work a little harder to find that part of me.

Tomorrow marks my two-week post surgery date.  At the advice of my doctor, I had a breast conservative surgery with a complete removal of all underarm lymph nodes.  professor Neven, removed breast tissue around the area where the tumor was before chemo melted it.  He chose to remove all of my lymph nodes because of the danger of the type of cancer I have/had.  HER2 triple positive cancer is of the more aggressive cancers and affects 20% of women with breast cancer.  We knew that at least one of my lymph nodes tested positive so rather than risk a dissection and the release of a positive cancer cell, he chose to remove them all. This has proven to be more difficult for me than I anticipated. Today, I am completely frustrated with the lack of mobility of my dominant arm.  It no longer does what I need it to do, when I need it to do it.  Physical Therapy will help and I am hopeful that the mobility will return but two weeks post surgery, the pain is still constant and I do not feel as if I’m progressing rapidly.  We have an appointment at the end of this month and are hoping and praying that the news will be good.  Breast tissue that was removed, has been sent to pathologists to study to see if there are any trace cancer cells.  If there are, I will be undergoing a mastectomy and possibly more chemo.  As good as I am about picking myself up, I am more than a little afraid of what this news will do to my spirits.  At this point, I just have to have hope that I will not hear that news.  No cancer cells were found is what I desperately want to hear right now.  I think it would be the break that I need to really move forward and work on seeing that light at the end of the tunnel.

On an exciting note, my hair is coming back.  At first, it was coming in all white, almost a lack of pigment.  In the last week, I’ve noticed quite a bit of greyish hair.  After revealing my new hair growth to a friend, she commented that she wasn’t sure if she should say anything but that it was looking pretty gray. I was surprised to experience some hurt feelings over this. I’ve been so proud of this regrowth, like it was a new cute puppy or an accomplishment.  But, my ability to pick myself up kicked in and I reminded myself that while it may be a bit gray, it’s hair!!  Real hair that isn’t falling out when I touch it. I reminded myself that any color of hair is always better than no hair. And after the last six months, I’ve earned every single gray hair on my head.  So, I still got it!!  Something inside me that tells me to dig a little deeper when I’m down.  To count my blessings and take a good long look with new perspective about a situation.  It’s kept me going the past six months and I know it will keep me going in the coming months as well.  I am certain that 2014 will hold its own ups and downs.  The challenges AND celebrations that are all a part of life.  I look forward to six months from now when I know I will be further along in my recovery and inching my way back to being carefree.

I mean it.  I just don’t have the time for this.  But, I must make time for it.  For the weekly trips to Soignies Hospital for blood draws, for timing out medications, for days that seem to go forever getting chemotherapy and for the downtime I have never enjoyed.  This bout with cancer is cramping my style in so many ways.  The hair loss continues to be one of the hardest things for me.  I know that paints me as being very vain but I’m being honest.  Last February, I bought a jacket for this winter.  It is an army green color with a faux fur hood.  When I purchased it, I imagined my hair almost a year longer.  I am a girly girl but with my longer, highlighted hair, I felt that I could pull off an army green jacket.  Putting it on this winter doesn’t feel the same.   I tuck the ends of my scarf that covers my bald head into the collar and it doesn’t feel stylish. It feels boyish.  I feel like either a fat baby or an alien or a combo of the both at all times in my life.  This doesn’t ever change.  There are other side affects (or is it effects)?  Let me stray for a second.  I love grammar so if someone has an easy tip for remembering when to use affect and when to use effect, please clue me in.  I know that affect is most often a verb and can be used to show an influence whereas effect is often a noun and is used as a result.  But their distinctions are too similar to me.  So, let’s go with effect as in side effects.  continuing on…  side effects that affect me (see what I did?  Like that?) in ways that by the grace of God, I am able to push to a deep corner and all but ignore them.  When a cancer patient talks about the pain or the nausea, it is almost ever-present.  I am no exception.  I don’t think anyone battling cancer is.  And these side effects take time.  I have had more unwanted downtime since I began chemotherapy in August than I can remember taking in the last 20 years (or maybe ever).  Despite knowing the rest is so good for me, my soul is fed by being around people I love and doing things that make me feel like I can make a difference.  I feel that these things are helping me recover; and make no mistake, I am recovering!!

It’s been a while since I’ve been at the computer so let me catch you up.  I haven’t made the time to blog in a month so a lot has happened.  My 4th round of chemo happened on 25 October.  I was excited for this day for a couple of reasons.  It was my first dose of a different chemo cocktail.  I was looking forward to my body having a new ammo to battle this cancer.  I pictured it like a soldier getting a brand new, ultra modern weapon.  I was also scheduled for a mammogram to see if the chemo was making any difference in the tumor size.  The hope was that having chemo before surgery would help contain the cancer and stop it from spreading.  I have an aggressive, invasive type of cancer that is HER2 Triple Positive.  The doctors told me that I would have liked to have seen at least one negative in that diagnosis but that the triple positive cancers are becoming treatable.  In the past, that was a very bad thing.  But, modern medicine and science have made the triple positive diagnosis not as deadly as it was in days gone by.  They treat it very aggressively because it is one of the most difficult to treat.  Because it is not just estrogen based and rather it has estrogen and progestogen receptors, this cancer often finds ways to reject chemo or fight it.  It continues to spread very aggressively throughout the body often getting chemo.  They do not like to do surgery first for Triple Positive cancer patients because of the risk of an open body spread.  The cancer for me, was not caught early.  There was huge concern in the early days of diagnosis that it had spread throughout my body.  Those initial days were extremely tough as we waited to hear and were told to expect a spread.  Again, I credit higher powers that the cancer had spread only to my lymph nodes, which will be removed during surgery.  So…  back to the hope – which I have a huge abundance of.  The hope was that the chemo was working to at least contain and possibly shrink the tumor.  I can tell you that I have never seen my doctor really smile.  Not really.  There have been polite smiles but nothing that spread joy on his face like a real smile.  I got that smile on October 25th.  The first order of business that day was my mammogram before chemo.  I told every technician in the room that they were going to see all good things.  That they were going to report that the chemo was doing it’s job.  Unlike the doctors, they are always willing to offer encouragement and I like that about them.  Even if it’s false at times for some patients.  I’ll take it, even though I didn’t believe it to be false in my case.  During chemo, it is standard for me to have a one-on-one with my doctor.  My superstar doctor, Dr. Patrick Neven, came to get me in my comfy chemo chair and called me to a closed room.  He brought up my scans.  There were two of them side by side.  The first mammogram in August and the one I had taken earlier that day.  He was silent as he clicked back and forth, enlarging images and studying them.  He didn’t address me but he picked up the phone and spoke Dutch to whoever was on the other end.  Dr. Neven told me that he wanted to talk to the radiologists who took the scans in person before he spoke with me and he all but ran out of the room.  Dr. Neven was back in about ten minutes and he walked in the door with a genuine, toothy grin.  I said “This is good news, isn’t it?” and he said “Very good news!  Your tumor appears to have melted.”  Melted.  It’s not a word I imagine many American Breast Cancer Oncologists to use, but it has become one of my new favorite words.  He continued to show me the images and even drew a picture on a piece of paper for me to take home.  He explained that the tumor is responding very positively to the chemo treatment and that our surgery options are most likely going to change from a double mastectomy to something far less aggressive.  We won’t really know what surgery options I will have until after my 6th and final pre-surgery chemotherapy treatment.  The tumor has gotten so small that after I finished my fourth round of chemo that day, I was instructed to go back down to radiology where they were keeping the department open just for me.  Dr. Neven instructed the radiology team to do a minor procedure directly after that fourth round to clamp the tumor.  They did this because Dr. Neven is concerned that he will not find the tumor after three more rounds of chemo.  I was in tears the rest of the day.   Mark’s parents were visiting and they were out sight-seeing in beautiful Leuven when I received all of the welcomed news.  I couldn’t talk because of the lump in my throat so I texted Mark the photo that Dr. Neven drew.  He called me back and I was able to repeat the conversation.  I could hear the relief and joy in his voice.  What a gift!!  It seemed like such a pay off for the faith that I have had, for the down time I’ve taken, for the instructions that I’ve followed, for the meditation I’ve focussed on this tumor, for the hair loss and the juicing and the dietary changes and the other side effects that I won’t mention because most of them are not pretty.

Fast forward four more weeks.  I just had my fifth round of chemo last Friday and all is well.  Since that amazing day in October, I have been walking on clouds.  We all went to Germany to watch Jacqueline Molly play volleyball at the European championships and we had an amazing few days in Ireland, showing Mark’s parents  (Grammy and Poppy) around one of our favorite cities.  It was our third trip to Dublin so we were able to share with them the beautiful Wicklow Gap mountain loop drive that we find so peaceful.  It was a packed few days as we took in the Guinness brewery, the Jameson distillery, a Traditional Irish Music Pub Crawl, a Traditional Celtic Irish Dance and Dinner night and a more macabre haunted Dublin bus ride. Getting back to Belgium, we did a day trip to a French castle and came home to celebrate an early thanksgiving before Grammy and Poppy headed back stateside.

We are currently enjoying yet another opportunity to be a part of the award-winning SHAPE Performing Arts Centre.  Jacqueline Molly is part of the ensemble and has a part that has her changing costumes four times as well as dancing on top of a desk (like mother, like daughter – right Nana?!).  I assisted with property design which was a lot of fun and while I’m not creative, property design often feels like a scavenger hunt.  Finding items like authentic 1960’s glassware or liquor bottles was a lot of fun.  This production goes on for another 6 shows.

Most on my mind right now though is my twin sister and my awesome nieces’ visit!  I am literally crawling out of my skin to see them!  My sister Jackie, made plans to visit as soon as she found out that I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  She was coming by herself but that changed when my sweet niece decided to make bracelets in my honor.  Jackie told me that Chloe felt helpless, as I imagine many family members and loved ones feel when confronted with a possibly terminal illness of someone they love.  Chloe wanted to feel like she could do something so she made pink bracelets for all of our family members.  Soon after, she received requests for more.  She decided to ask for a $10 donation to supply her with the materials and any money left over, she would add to her saved up allowance and use it to come to see me when Jackie came.  That dream came true for her (and us) as so many of our beloved friends chipped in and bought bracelets.  I wear my pink bracelet every single day and it reminds me of the love she feels for me and the love of so many friends who made it possible for Chloe to feel involved and send her into my arms and reassure her that I will be okay.  Jackie and Chloe arrive here in 9 days and I cannot contain myself.  I can’t wait to show Chloe around Paris for a day and take in a Christmas market.  Most importantly, they will be by my side when I receive my final pre-surgical chemotherapy.  It feels symbolic and joyous and monumental.  Holding their hands as the toxins get pumped into me will be empowering to battle the side effects that I truly do not have time for but will make time for out of necessity.

Nothing but good things.  It’s been something I’ve uttered so many times in this battle against cancer.  I will it.  I put it out to God and the universe.  And it happens.  As I look over my desk while I’m typing this, I see the usual desk of someone not in perfect health.  It is covered with prescriptions and over-the-counter drugs and tissues.  I have notes about when to take what medicine and papers taped to the monitor with phone numbers of different doctors and clinics.  But all I feel is the optimism of all good things. I think about the people who have been placed in my path due to this blip in my life.  The encouragement and love from friends and family that buoy my recovery in ways they will never know.  These words of support that keep my attitude where I need it to be.  I am looking forward to a 17th anniversary in a few weeks.  The opportunity of living in the heart of Europe makes it affordable to take a quick flight to Milan for an overnight anniversary date with my soul mate.  Soon after that, James will be home and I will bask in the incredible feeling of having both my chicks under one roof.  Life is good.  Even if I have to make time for the things that I never imagined having to make time for.

For all of this, I am THANKFUL!!

Before I hit publish, I’d like to remind anyone reading that I do not proofread this.  This is meant to be just a blog.  Nothing special.  I want to keep my friends and family updated and in my often chemo-hazed brain, I make mistakes in my writing.  I will be all over the map in terms of subject but I hope that you are updated and maybe even entertained for a second.

Answer:  Just one, but it takes a support group to cheer her on!

When a cancer care nurse asked me if I had a good support system, I knew I had friends and family who cared, but I’m not one who relies on people easily.  But, I also didn’t understand what cancer would take from me.  At times, it’s taken my dignity, my optimism, my self-esteem, my energy, and my appetite just to name a few things.  And inevitably in those moments, I’ve had something that brings me back to my more natural self where I know I can beat cancer despite the trials.  The power of a kind note from a friend, a hug from a co-worker, a card in the mail, a compliment from a student…. it’s amazing. I’ve been blessed beyond my comprehension.  I can easily say that in this battle with breast cancer, I’ve had more tears of joy and humility than I have of fear or sadness. The thing about this cancer that I’ve hated the most (besides losing my hair) is that it has taken more than my own positive outlook on life to get over the bumps in the road.  But, all it takes is a kind word or note of support to bring me back around.

Unfortunately, I’m not someone who learns lessons the easy way.  I’ve been in more trouble in my life because I truly believe it’s easier to beg (or bargain) for forgiveness than to ask for permission.  Learning cancer lessons has been no exception.  I was told I would need to rest more.  I was told I would need to be more careful about getting sick.  I am still the little kid who thinks she’s invincible.  And, I am naturally the energizer bunny.  I can multi-task, have experience in a variety of jobs and love to help out and be around people, so I tend to take on more than I should even at my healthiest.  This has not been helpful in my fight against cancer.  This past week I’ve learned that I cannot continue to do things the way I normally do.  But I have not been able to answer the question;  how do you balance living life, make memories, AND stay away from people, get rest and follow every doctors orders?  I still haven’t figured that out, but I’m learning slowly.  Case in point is my recent hospitalization.  I knew I was not at my best on a Friday.  But, we had a big day on Saturday.  The homecoming games were that day and it was possibly  Jacqueline Molly’s last volleyball game of the season.  It was also the night of the homecoming dance and tradition has been that the girls get ready at my house.  This requires carefully thought out snacks, a place with good lighting so they can all get ready together, music playlists and lots of photos. I started running a small fever on Saturday morning but I ignored it.  As my fever progressed, my energy drained.  I was not having a great time but I was afraid to miss out on these moments in life.  They are truly gifts.  My fever got higher.   I called my doctor who told me that I needed to get to an emergency room for a booster to bring up my white blood cell count and an IV of meds to bring my fever down.  They wanted me there as soon as possible but I ignored that request.  I just had to hear about the dance when the girls got home.  Who danced with whom, dress details and homecoming royalty were all conversations I wanted to have with the girls.  What little energy I had, was so drained by the time they got home, I barely remember them walking through the door.  Mark drove me to the hospital early the next morning and what might have been a few hours of treatment had I gone in sooner, turned into four days in the hospital.  And I am a miserable patient.  There are things that I’ve taken for granted.  A small scrape somewhere on my skin has gone ignored most of my life.  But, last week, a small scrape turned into a staph infection.  My white blood cell count was so low, my body couldn’t heal the scrape so it became infected, which lead to a fever that also couldn’t be nursed back to normal with simple over-the-counter fever reducer.  I am now guarding my skin carefully and rationing my energy.  It is not fun.  I feel a little like I’m made of porcelain and that I’m chipped in places.  I have a nasty open wound on my leg from the staph, my fingernails are all bruised and sore from the third round of chemo, my energy level can take a huge hit from something as simple as walking across a large parking lot.  I wear gloves at work and a paper mask in small enclosed areas.  But, I know this won’t last forever.  I look forward to the day that I don’t have to think about rationing my daily chore list.  I had a dream that I had long, beautiful hair and one day that will come back too.  I have not thrown away all of my favorite nail polish because I am hopeful that by summer, I will be able to paint my nails again.  Which brings me around to my point.  I am hopeful about all of these things because I have an amazing family and incredible friends who inspire me every day in so many ways!  If you’re reading this, I’ve probably thought of you with such gratitude in my heart.  And in the meantime, I will continue to learn.  I will go to the hospital sooner rather than later if I run a fever.  I will take my wheel chair on sight-seeing trips so I am not on my feet or walking long distances in a full day.  I will rest more even though I don’t like it. But mostly, I will never take for granted the power of the support group!!

A bucket list.  Do you have one?  Is it in your head or written down somewhere?  Are you aware of your bucket list or is it just a vague idea of things you want to do or places you dream of visiting?  Is having a well-thought out bucket list a good idea or is it just more possibility of disappointment because it involves the time off you haven’t accrued or the money that needs to be used for practical purposes.  Does it represent the impossible dream or the anticipated goal?  Most people will tell you that I’m a ‘glass half full’ kind of girl so for me, having a bucket list is a positive thing.  I think I’ve had a bucket list for as long as I can remember because besides being naturally positive, I’m also a bit of a dreamer.  My mom will tell you that I have dreamed of visiting Paris ever since I was young.  And to this day, it remains one of the most magical places I could ever go.  My bucket list isn’t in list format but every time I do something incredible, I think ‘THIS is something that would be on my bucket list’.

About a week after I found out that I have cancer I was told that because of the aggressive type and the fact that we did not catch it early, that I should be prepared to hear that it had spread through my body. When I heard that, I did two things.  Through panicked tears, I talked with my kids about being okay IF the test results came back with news that we didn’t want to hear.  I told them that IF we found out that I was terminal, I needed to know that they would work on being okay without me.  I needed their assurances that no matter how sad they might be, that they would work on being happy.  And, let’s face it.  Sometimes being happy IS work.  Sometimes you have to make the decision to be happy.  Every living person has heartbreak and hardship, emotional scaring that could make or break you.  But I wanted James and Molly to make one promise to me, that they would choose to be okay.  When they did that, I was given the gift of working completely on my recovery.  Because they made that promise to me, I would no longer worry about them and I could focus completely on my own recovery without the wasted energy of wondering if they would be alright.  The second thing I did was my own version of a life check-up.  Was I where I wanted to be in life?  Had I accomplished goals that I had set for myself?  As I waited for further test results, I contemplated what I still wanted to do in life.  And, overall I was thankful.  Thankful because no matter what the test results said, I was still alive and breathing.  Anyone reading this has the same opportunity that I still had despite what happens.  I mourn those tragedies that happen in the blink of an eye.  The sad stories about people who get into arguments with loved ones and then have a fatal car crash.  The people who never get to say the things they want to the people they love so much, those are the things that break my heart.  I am given the gift that many people don’t get.  I get to evaluate my own bucket list.  And I can’t say it strongly enough but I feel incredibly fortunate!!  There is not much I could imagine doing, that would bring me more joy than the things I’ve actually done.

The list includes riding camels in Saudi Arabia, parasailing on the Red Sea, running marathons with my husband beside me step-by-step and sailing through the Pearl Harbor channel on a 22 foot sailboat with friends that I love.  I have been to a ball with my own prince charming, gone to a movie premier and travelled extensively.  I’ve napped under the Eiffel Tower, been serenaded by a gondola guy in  Venice, slept in a castle in England, sang along at a  Jimmy Buffet concert in the shadow of Diamond Head, gone skiing in a winter wonderland in Austria, and drank pints of beer in Dublin.   Those are a few of the bigger things but I also have had the joy of parenting two awesome kids. We may not see it for the gift that it is all the time, but I am the most grateful for the parenting experiences good AND bad.   I’ve had jobs that made me feel like I was giving back and making a difference.  I have family and friends who I can say without a doubt, love me unconditionally and that I feel beyond fortunate for that.  There are little things too.  Things that wouldn’t necessarily be on my bucket list, but those WTH moments that stick in your memory.   I’ve kicked a shark, worked on Hole #1 of the Sony Open, been bitten by a meerkat, bubbled a monumental fountain with my twin sister, rescued animals and acted in plays for an outstanding community theater.  I’ve saved the life of a man who probably would have died had I not shown up at the right time and spoken in public to big crowds.  These are just the things that come to mind as I type this.  I know as soon as I publish this, ten thousand other experiences will flood my thoughts but that’s just how lucky I am!!!

As for where I am in life…  I’m a work in progress.  I always will be.  Not just with cancer but all around.  Just like a bucket list with items that have not been lined through.  I really want to be a better mom, a better wife, a better friend, a better sister and daughter.  Other things that I want to accomplish that are a bit more shallow include getting my paranormal investigation certification (yes, that is a real certification and no, I’m not kidding).  I want to finally make a beautiful souffle that doesn’t fall in the center.  This is kind of shitty since I am supposed to love ALL of my pets but I want to live in a cat free house. While I sort of like our three felines, I will not be overly sad when they go to kitty heaven.  Speaking of heaven, I want to figure out where I stand with my religious beliefs.  I am a believer and consider myself to be a child of God but my path has sometimes taken the bumpier route and I am easily influenced.  Here is the good news in all of this:  the cancer in my body is temporary.  All of those tests revealed that it spread to one lymph but was not existing anywhere else in my body.  I still have time to be better.  Closing this, I’d really love to know what you have on your bucket list.  Please comment because I am genuinely interested!!

I was talking with a friend yesterday whom I haven’t seen in a while.  We were catching up and I was telling him more about what was going on with me medically.  He asked me “Does it ever get old, explaining all of this over and over as I’m sure you must be doing” and I told him that because I really haven’t had any experience with cancer, it is still somewhat new to me as well.  And it still is interesting to me.  I have never had first hand information about cancer or treatments before.  Of course cancer has touched all of our lives in some way.  The girlfriend from high school who went through treatment and is cancer free now.  The friend who has a mom/sister/aunt who unfortunately lost their battle with the disease.  The inspirational stories of people who fight it.  But, first hand experience is new to me. And at times, I am strangely detached about it all.  I can talk about it and not really feel like I am talking about myself.  Some of the oddest conversations I have had, come to me in the form of comparisons.  Growing up as an identical twin, I am unusually used to being compared to someone.  People use to try to remember how to tell my sister Jackie and I apart by saying things like ‘long hair, short name; short hair long name’ when she had the shorter hair.  We once had hoodies that said ‘I’m Jan, not Jackie’ and hers said ‘I’m Jackie, not Jan’ but the naughty girls that we sometimes were, we would often switch them.  We looked so much alike, many times we switched classes to help each other out in a subject the other was better at and no one was the wiser.  We could talk on the phone as each other, break up with a boyfriend when it was just too uncomfortable to do ourselves and once, Jackie renewed my drivers license when I couldn’t get home by my expiration date.  So, comparisons have always been a part of my life.  But the comparisons come in varied ways when it comes to cancer.  There was the guy who told me that his poor friend had cancer.  That guy died after his third round of chemo.  Or, the lady who told me that her dog had cancer and that it must be easier for me because I am human and can understand what the doctors tell me.  Now, I’m not totally sure if these are meant to be comparisons but when they are talking with me, someone who is fighting for her life with cancer, it can feel like a comparison.  I try to erase these conversations from my memory bank, but it can be a challenge.  Case in point, the guy who told me that he didn’t believe in chemo.  He said he feels like anything that is so toxic it makes your hair fall out, can’t be good for you.  Ummmmmm  yeah.  Agreed.  Not much to argue about that but for people with cancer, our options can be somewhat limited and turning down one of the most successful treatment plans doesn’t seem like the wisest decision; toxic levels that cause hair to fall out or not. In the long run, the comparisons of my own are the things that keep me focussed.  When I compare my situation to those of others, I feel very lucky!!  We all can look at situations in our lives and know that no matter what, things could always be worse.  Even in my darkest moments, I can still find something that points to how fortunate I am in comparison to what they could be.

And segueing into the Chemo portion of this post, I started this blog to keep my beloved friends and family up to date on things.  Last week, I received my 2nd round of chemo and again, I haven’t had any major issues.  I almost feel guilty saying that as I know for many people who have undergone chemotherapy, it is a difficult deal.  There are different forms of chemo and I wouldn’t want to take away from their experience.  Fortunately for me, I haven’t experienced terrible side effects.  After the first round, there were two days and one night that I didn’t quite feel myself.  But, this second round I’ve had very little adverse reactions.  Slight heartburn which no one told me about.  A loss of appetite but hello?!?!  Finally, weight loss that isn’t difficult!  I chalk that up in the positive side of the column!!  I can tell a difference in my energy levels and I have been resting more than I usually do, but that’s about it.  I am trying not to be arrogant about it because I have one more round of chemo using the same cocktail that I’ve gotten the last two rounds and then my doctor will be switching things up. I’ll get a different chemo cocktail which I’ve been told may be a little more difficult so time will tell if that one will be the mix that knocks me out for a minute.  Either way, I’m prepared.  And I am counting my many blessings.  The support of friends and family has been overwhelming for me.  The simple but heartfelt e-mails and words of kindness continue to touch my heart and strengthen my soul in many ways.

I’ll end this post in a random way – just thoughts that I can’t put into a ‘C’ category or just things going on in the Workman household.

People ask me all the time about Mark and the kids.  They are handling this extremely well.  I know it is hard for James to be so far away and unable to help but he’s dealing with that by calling frequently even if it’s just to say ‘hi’.  I get sweet e-mails to let me know he is thinking of me.  He tells me that when he is tired or needs a little inspiration, he looks at his pink bracelet that he always wears.  He has been going to church a few times a week and I know that he is feeling stronger and has a renewed faith through it all.  I am so glad he has such a wonderful girlfriend who knows me, who we all love  and who is there by his side.  Jacqueline Molly has the ‘pleasure’ of dealing with the day-to-day. She gets a morning shot of what I call cancer juice, a mixture of juiced/blended vegetables in a glass. She is also keenly aware of my weekly doctor appointments, chemo dates and other details that involve a mom battling with cancer.  I was sad to have missed her first volleyball game of the year last weekend.  I had chemo on a Thursday and she left for England on Friday.  It hasn’t been advisable to be too far from my doctors the first 48 hours after chemo so we weren’t able to go and cheer her on. Despite it all, she and James have handled this well.  They both know that their mom can be a little stubborn so they know as well as I do that this is just temporary.  As for Mark, he’s the rock he always has been.  He tells me that my job is to rest when I need to, submit to my weekly white blood cell checks, sit there and play nice when it’s time to be in one place for hours at a time during my chemo drips and he takes care of the rest.  He is the best secretary ever, keeping paperwork, prescriptions, insurance stuff and dates firmly organized and accounted for.  I know this must be hard for him too, but he is sailing along as solid as he always has been.  I am so incredibly thankful for my cool family.

It’s birthday week here in our house!!  Jackie turns sixteen tomorrow.  I know all moms say this, but I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!!!  I am in denial!!  Kids in Europe cannot drive at 16 so while it is still that coming of age birthday, it can sometimes be a little anti-climatic in comparison to her stateside friends who post pictures with their shiny new drivers licenses.  I’m sad that she doesn’t get that experience but in reality, as I get older, 16 just feels too young to drive.  She will however, be able to buy and consume alcohol here in Europe.  That brings on a whole new set of concerns but Jackie is pretty focussed academically and with her involvement in sports so I am not incredibly worried.

I’m sure the upcoming week will be detailed further in a future blog, but all good things here at the end of September.  The opening of The Real Inspector Hound at the community theater where I feel a part of my heart and soul resides.  I’ve had the pleasure of working with a couple of my favorite thespians this week.  I’ve been line reading to assist in their memorization and I can’t help but get lost in the humor of the play.  I can’t wait to see it translated on stage Thursday on opening night.  Next up, is Oktoberfest!!  I’ve lived in Europe for four years now and I still feel like Oktoberfest should be in October, but who cares! Bring it on in September and I’ll still go.  It’s a fun glimpse into the German culture if just for a few nights.  SHAPE does its own version and many attendees dress up in lederhosen and dirndl’s.  Authentic German musicians play live every night.  A few nights of singing and dancing and it wouldn’t be complete without the mugs of German beer and food that is served.  I’m looking forward to meeting up with our friends to partake in the once a year tradition that is Oktoberfest.  Also rounding out our month is The Color Run.  I am so excited about this one.  Ever since I heard about Color Runs, I’ve wanted to participate in one.  When I heard that there was one coming to Brussels, I was signed up within the opening hour of registration.  I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that I feel incredibly honored that there is a group of people doing this in support of my battle with breast cancer so I will be running this with many friends by my side and I cannot wait!!  Besides all of the fun things on my calendar, I also have to say that I get an abundance of joy from my day-to-day life.  I have a job that feels like I can make a difference.  I have the best co-workers who are also my very good friends.  I am happy and healthy (besides the cancer thing) in ways that I can only count as blessings.

Hair is a complicated subject.  We curse it when it won’t curl or straighten the way we want it to, we cry when we get bad haircuts, we cut our own bangs and almost always regret it, we want what the other girl has.  We wish we would be brave enough to cut it or color it in some bolder style.  We hide it under baseball caps when we don’t want to do anything to it.  We pin it back and pull it up when we go to the gym but fluff it out and cover it in product when we go out with our friends.  We grow it long and then we hate the time it takes to dry it in the mornings.  For me, my hair has always been very high on my list of priorities.  I will have hair stylists confirm that I actually like high maintenance hair.  I like to think I’ve always been somewhat adventurous when it comes to my hair in that I will almost always try the new style.  I will see a haircut on t.v. or in a magazine and the next week, I will have it.  I’ve cut it in a short bob at a directors request, for a role I played and I didn’t bat an eyelash.  I’ve always said that if I don’t like it, it will grow out and I’ve lived by that.  But that phrase will test me more than I ever expected it to as I find myself losing my hair to treatment of this cancer.  I’ve told people that there is a scenario that played out that went something like this:

Doctor:  I am afraid I have bad news.  Your biopsy results are back and you have cancer.

Me:  Okay.

Doctor: You will go through more tests but eventually you will face surgeries and you may lose your breast/s.

Me:  Okay.  I can get new and improved ones.  What else.

Doctor:  You will probably have to go through chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy.

Me: Okay.  WAIT!!  Does that mean I will lose my HAIR?!?!!!!

Doctor:  Probably.

Me:  I DON’T WANT IT!!! NO!!!!  WAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!  (bursts out sobbing)

I say this joking only because my doctor was much more professional on his end of the conversation but some form of it did really happen.  Almost this whole time, I’ve been most concerned about losing my hair.  Call me vain or pathetic or naive and I would heartily agree with you!!

When I went through my first round of chemotherapy, two weeks ago I had an oncology doctor explain the different types of chemo drugs that I would be getting.  He told me of some of the unpleasant side effects that I might experience and one included the loss of my hair.  I found it absolutely incredible that this would be mentioned so soon.  So, when the doctor left and I was with the nurses who would be administering my chemo, I asked if it was really true. That I might see hair loss as early as one treatment.  They confirmed those fears and said that almost everyone who got the chemo that I would be getting would notice significant hair loss by the time they came back for their second round.  They (like others) gave me the advice to just shave it off when I started noticing it.  I had to remind them that they were talking about a time frame of only three weeks and they said that often by the time a patient comes in for their second round, they’ve already experienced the loss of their hair.  I couldn’t believe it.  In fact, I didn’t.  They also told me I’d be nauseous and sick and sore and I went to the gym the following three days after chemo so I was certain that I would escape the impending hair loss.  Imagine my surprise when about a week after chemo, I started noticing hair coming out.  Only in strands so it wasn’t a lot.  A tiny bit when I washed my hair or on my pillow in the morning.  Not a huge big deal.  I convinced myself that it might just thin out a bit.  Then Wednesday came.  As I washed it, I saw clumps of it going down the drain.  I ran my fingers through my wet hair and it fell out in my hands.  I am not talking about just a few strands.  Alarming amounts of hair.  I went to work and some of my favorite co-workers were in the front office and I showed them what would happen if I just brushed it with my fingers.  I think they were as alarmed as I was only they did what true friends do, they put their arms around me and assured me that it was all going to be okay no matter what.

In an effort to transition into the hair loss, I decided to cut it really short.  I think I thought that it would buy me some time.  Or that I wouldn’t obsess about it because it wasn’t coming out in long handfuls of hair.  I thought that short hair falling out would be less noticeable if only by me.  As I sat in the chair with a picture of Natalie Portman (don’t get me wrong, I’m not delusional in that I thought I would look like her, but it was the cutest of the short hair cuts I could find) my sweet hair stylist here asked me “are you ready?”.  I wanted to run screaming out of there.  I wanted to throw a tantrum comparable to that of the loudest, three-year old in any public place (insert Walmart or a very nice restaurant).  But, I walked in there willingly so I nodded and she started cutting.  And I cried in that chair.  With each long snip, another tear rolled out of my already red eyes.  I told her not to pay any attention to me, that I wasn’t crying because she was doing a bad job and she assured me that despite our different languages, and our completely different cultures, that she knew I was crying because of the reason I was cutting it.  I’ve been going to this particular stylist for the last three years so she knows how attached I am to my hair.  She understood completely.  When my haircut was finished, she spent about two minutes drying what was left of my longer hair and joked that she wouldn’t charge me for the blow dry.  We laughed and I left and cried again when I got in my car.

The next morning I was self-conscience.  I compensated and wore some of the biggest earrings I own and put on more make-up than I normally wear.  In those actions, I am screaming “I promise!  I am a girl!!!”  When I walked into school the next day, I was greeted by the many friendly and familiar faces.  Those of my sweet co-workers who assured me that they loved it.  And of the nicest students in any school who said things like “Mrs. Workman, you look beautiful!” or of my favorite boys who said “You look like you could be in a rock band so anytime you want to start a band, we will be in it with you!”… and I felt slightly better about it.

This was a change that was inevitable and transitional.  And truthfully, I hate it.  I hate the haircut.  I am now realizing that cutting it short is not buying me time since it is still coming out in the alarming amounts that it did before.  I am equally obsessed with the rate of the fall out now that it is short as I was when it was longer.  My hair is a breaking point with me and I will be surprised if I can mentally stand seeing it fall out like this for much longer.  A few days maybe.  And, I’ll do what most other cancer patients do and I’ll have it shaved off and be done with it.  I have beautiful scarves ready for when that day comes.  But, there is a part of me that is embarrassed.  As if I’ve done something wrong.  I know I haven’t but there is a part of me that is ashamed that I will not have hair.  Rationally, I know that’s a wasted emotion.  I know that I will get use to the stares from people.  You’d think that for a girl who is loud all the time, willingly performs in community theater, and isn’t afraid of a little attention, this wouldn’t bother me but it does.

There is nothing I can do about this so to feel anything negative about it is useless energy and as soon as I am finished with this blog entry, I am done with the negative energy surrounding my hair.  I will be focussed on the many positives in my life.  Did I mention that I think eventually I will be getting new and improved boobs???    More importantly than hair and boobs, I am more and more humbled every single day by the generosity of spirit and love of those I am surrounded by.  Gestures of love and faith are everywhere in my life.  I have a friend who sees right through me and knows when I need to talk.  I have a friend who made me the most delicious hispanic meal for my family this week on a night that would have been difficult to get dinner on the table.  I have friends who know how important my gym time is and offer to meet me there for a workout.  I have friends who hug me when I feel weak.  I have Wet Hen sisters who will be sailing every Thursday at my beautiful Hickam Harbor wearing bracelets with my name on them. I have a group of ladies here who have given me one of the most precious gifts I’ve ever gotten;a prayer shawl, loomed with the softest baby alpaca wool by an incredibly talented lady.  I have a friend who thought of me when she was in Turkey and brought a stunning scarf for me that I will be proudly wearing on my bald head very soon.  I have a little girl in Washington state who races with my nephew who sent me a handmade bracelet and a homemade card with a stamp of her hand and the card said ‘when you’re scared, hold my hand’.  I have a friend who sent me a tee-shirt this week that said ‘I’m kind of a big deal’ referring to an inside joke we’ve always had together.  I had a lady in France tell me she was going to light a candle for me.   I have a family friend who is also our doctor who took the stitches out of my neck and chest where my port was placed who made me laugh on several occasions but he also said to me ‘every hair falling out is a cancer cell dying’ and I believe him.  I have a beloved friend right here in my backyard who is going through breast cancer too, and she faces a scary surgery on Monday and has three very young children and her bravery makes me braver too.  My incredible family has stepped up beyond any expectation. My mom and sister who call every day and hear me vent and encourage me constantly.  My sweet niece making bracelets in my honor who will be coming to see me in November with my twin (and I’m so excited). My in-laws who are supporting me from afar and are giving me a much needed break from the cancer when they come in October and we all head out to Dublin.   James is going to church at his college and I can literally feel his prayers despite the distance.  Mark went to the grocery store WITHOUT A LIST for the first time in 17 years  and got everything and more than we needed to include nail polish remover for Jacqueline Molly and who convinces me that I will be beautiful to him with or without hair.  Jacqueline Molly who is my everyday sunshine – who I can’t imagine how hard this has to be for a teenage girl to see her mom going through this, yet she smiles and finds something great to tell me about her day every single night.  I am so beyond blessed that as I type this out and there are so many people who I deeply love who I know love me back, hair seems very insignificant and that’s what I will be moving forward with as I kick cancers ass.

While I figure out this wordpress site and learn how to bedazzle it a bit more, I thought I’d at least get my first post out.  So many have asked how it was that I found out that I had breast cancer.  I can tell you it was not routine.  I wish I could say that I found it during my dedicated, monthly self breast checks but nope.  I have never been good at doing those.  I’ll be honest when I say that I did them maybe twice a year.  Maybe.  Kind of sad since if that maybe is not accurate, it means that I did it one time a year!!  But, c’est la vie, right?  I am not one to live in the past.  You just can’t.  So, moving on.  Back in February, I noticed that my periods had changed.  They were normally very regular.  On time.  No issues.  Until about February.  They became very frequent and uncomfortable and heavy.  I wasn’t yet 41, but I looked at some research that suggested that I might be going through something called peri-menopause.  And I was like ‘wooooo whooo’!!!  The sooner the better!!  After several visits to my local health care clinic which is very limited due to our location, I was referred to our larger home base medical center in Landstuhl, Germany.  Due to the number of patients they were seeing, they were already overbooked so I was denied an appointment.  It took some more persistence but I was finally referred to an OB/GYN specialist in Soignies, Belgium.  So, five months after initially taking my menstrual concerns to a doctor, I had an appointment.  On the day of my appointment, the doctor did a regular OB/GYN check but she also did a breast exam (THANK GOD)!  I am certain she found the lump.  She didn’t say anything to clue me in, but she did walk me from OB/GYN to radiology and schedule a mammogram for two days later.  I thought it was just routine in this country.  Two days later, I went in for a mammogram (dreading it after hearing so many horror stories).  I think it’s both a blessing and a curse that there is very little English spoken at the hospital I was at.  There isn’t a patient liaison there either so there was a lot of very simple communication.  During the mammogram, it was communicated to me that I would need an ultra-sound.  They brought me into another room where a doctor (I assume – but there are no introductions here and no name tags and everyone wears white coats to include the cleaning staff) did an ultra-sound.  He said one word “biopsy” to me and right then and there, they did a biopsy.  Everything felt so fast but to me, they were just being overly cautious.  In my head, I was zero risk for breast cancer.  No one on either side of my family has had breast cancer.  Actually, I don’t think anyone has ever had any cancer in my families.  Which tells me that we might have been due, but that’s besides the point, right?  That happened on a Friday and I went home and just forgot about it. In my mind, there was NO WAY that I had breast cancer.  I wasn’t concerned at all.  About a week later, I plugged in my dead phone (story of my life!) and when it charged, I had missed several calls from the OB/GYN office.  The last call was a message at 9 p.m. at night that said ‘We got the results of your biopsy back and called Dr. Watkins who is on vacation but we are scheduling an appointment for you to come in and talk with a doctor about your results’.  Again, my first thought was that it didn’t seem good because why would they call a doctor on vacation if the results were good?  The second thought was that the results must have been inconclusive and it probably meant I had to go in and do it all again.  I know!!!  How delusional can I get??  I got up the next morning and went for a run and when I came home, my cell phone was ringing and it was my local clinic.  They had been called regarding my results and wanted me to come in asap, now if possible to discuss the biopsy and encouraged me to bring my husband if I wished.  I knew then.  It was like all of the air left my lungs.  I had a hard time taking a deep breath as we walked to the clinic.  We sat down and were given the news that the biopsy came back showing cancer.  They identified it as Invasive Ductal Adenocarcinoma, 5 cm, HER triple positive. All of that just means that it is a very aggressive, invasive type of cancer and the triple positive, while it sound like it should be a good thing, is actually one of the things that you don’t want to hear.  The triple positive is sometimes a cancer that doesn’t always respond to treatment.  Or it will respond, but it can become immune to it within the first year.  We can talk later about this, but I’m not scared of that because I have a doctor who knows what he is doing.

So, that’s it.  I went home and told my kids who were probably as equally shocked as we were.  I called my families.  And, I posted a note on my Wet Hen website.  For those just catching this, The Wet Hens is a sailing organization in Hawaii that I belong to with a tradition of teaching military women how to sail.  When I was in Hawaii, I went through the course as a student and had the honor of becoming an instructor and to this day, those have been some of the best days in my life.  Those ladies were and still are like family to me so when I thought to tell my family, the Wet Hens were in that group.  The next morning, when I knew that my kids would need their friends to rely on for support and news would be getting out very fast in this small community, I posted a status on my facebook.  I deliberated about that because it just felt too impersonal.  There were so many faces and names of people I just wanted to tell either in person or a phone call or a personal e-mail… but in our fishbowl of a place that we lived in, by the end of the week, I would be HIV positive and on my deathbed in a German hospital if I didn’t get the word out the way it really was.  A true game of telephone – subject line; my health and it felt important enough to just spread the word as best as I knew how, through the power of social media.  In the upcoming days, I was so touched by so many warm, thoughtful, caring messages, I was glad I did it in the end.

I am incredibly blessed that our family doctor is also our friend.  The incredible I. family with Dr. Dan at the helm have always been special people to us.  But, Dr. Dan jumped in and made himself so available for anything and he researched and talked to oncologists and called around and found a couple of places he recommended for treatment.  I feel a little bit bad because I think I was still overwhelmed.  I didn’t know the right questions to ask, I didn’t know if I really wanted to hear any more news.  I just wanted someone to tell me what to do and where to go.  Poor Dr. Dan ended up talking more to Mark about all of this.  In the meantime, another Dan in my life is my performing arts centre theater director, Dan L.  He was calling me several times a day and e-mailing me and urging me to check out a breast cancer doctor named Professor Patrick Neven.  Apparently this guy is the rockstar of the Belgian breast cancer world.  He works in a University Hospital in Leuven etc. etc. etc.  I was not an advocate for myself at this point.  Again, I just wanted someone to tell me where to go and what to do to get this treated.  Dan L. persisted and we asked Dr. Dan to check it out.  After getting the thumbs up from Dr. Dan, we decided on a treatment center and proceeded to get an appointment.  If you google Professor Neven’s name, you will find pages of information and interviews.  I truly felt like I was meeting a celebrity the first time I met him.  I feel so fortunate because I honestly think that to get a doctor of that quality in the states, I’d be on a very long waiting list.  I can’t say enough about how confident I am in my choice and I have two very special Dans to thank for their role in that.

The next couple of weeks were scary.  Heart pounding, blood draining out of my face, hot/cold sweats scary, panic inducing scary.  Because of the type I have, I truly think that the doctors anticipated that it had spread.  We asked about my statistics and were given the big “IF it hasn’t spread… BUT we’ll have to see other test results first”… kind of speech.  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit here that there were days that I couldn’t look at my kids in the eye.  Or that I wasn’t cataloging my closets to see what I could rid of now so my family wouldn’t have to.  Or that there weren’t a couple of nights that I drank vodka tonics until I could finally sleep.  None of that is positive or good, but that’s where I was.  Sheer panic that my time on earth was coming to an end sooner rather than later.  That, the grandchildren that I so desperately want (NOT THIS SOON!!) would never meet me.  Complete panic.  But, test result after test result came in and things were looking up.  First the lung x-ray and liver ultrasounds were clear.  I hugged that lady so hard, I think I hurt her.  Then, Professor Neven called and said my blood work came back clear.  Later the lymph node would be identified as a spread but bone scan, PET scan, MRI etc… all would be clear for spread.  I felt like this was a miracle given the type of cancer I have and the size.  Professor Neven said it could have been growing in my body for 10 – 15 years.

Needless to say, I’m a week past my first chemo treatment and doing awesome.  I’m absolutely sure that while this may be a shitty and boring year (I have to give up sugar, red meat and alcohol and I have to sleep a lot!) I will be done with this and it will be behind me.  I’m not excited about losing my hair.  Some people say that there is a chance that I won’t, but for me to believe that feels like false hope.  I have been told by each doctor and each nurse that the type of chemo I am getting will cause my hair to fall out quickly.  And, I have real hope for my future so I’ll just have to deal with the temporary hair loss when it happens.

My blogs will develop and hopefully be funnier and more entertaining than this first one, but just to get started, here it is.  Now…  all of you women out there reading this!!  SELF EXAMS!!!  MAMMOGRAM APPOINTMENTS!!  If there is ONE person who either can sleep peacefully knowing they were checked and cleared or one person who gets detected so early this isn’t going to be a big ordeal in their lives, I’d be so happy!!  Lots of love from Belgium.  Signing off.