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.