Happy Holidays!

We wish you a joyous and loving family-filled Christmas

and a beachin' New Year!

Stella, Daddy-O
Ben and Danny

The Journey's the thing

Three years ago yesterday my whole world stopped. For a split second anyway. Before it was thrust into a strange slow-motion, fast-forward kaleidoscope of cancer treatment and regrets for a future with my children that might never be.

Is there and other phrase that has the same effect as "it's cancer"? What powerful, life-changing words those are. Normally I would think news of a close friend or relative's diagnosis would be worse than your own. But after careful consideration, I think it's far, far worse if it is oneself. Particularly, if you happen to be the mother of young children.

When I heard the words for the first time my heart stopped. Confirmation. My worst fear. I cried.

Was I crying for myself? The prospect of death. The stress of all the medical tests. The relief of finally knowing. The fear of an unknown future.

Was I crying for my kids? Losing their mother at such young ages (that was the only end I could see for them). The confusion and pain they would feel because of me. The scars they would always carry. How those scars would change their lives.

Was I crying for my mother? Hearing that one of your children may die (not a certainty in her context for some reason). Bearing powerless witness as the child you created fights for survival. The pain that would cause - the unnecessary burden.

All those thoughts rushed through my head at once, scorching a path as they passed. Quickly in and out. Shock left in their wake. Mental paralysis. Yet my fingers started typing. As the doctor's voice relayed test numbers and statistics through the phone to some walled-off portion of my brain, I tapped off an email to co-workers. "It's cancer." Even in shock I knew it would be less painful to type than to speak those dreaded words.

I don't know how long that call lasted, but there was a tight wall of support behind me as I put the phone in its cradle. I couldn't turn around. I felt marked. Marked for death. An object of pity. Not strong. Weak - in constitution and capability. A failure. I ran away from their concern like a coward .

~~~~~

All through my treatment, I never successfully shook those initial feelings of failure and weakness. I'd failed to remain healthy. I'd failed as a wife; cashing in the vows from our marriage. In sickness and health. Till death do us part. I'd failed as a mother. Would I see my boys grown? Would I leave Danny with a father stretched too thin from providing and filling both parental roles to adequately see to his therapies and education?

Yet I survived.

Chemotherapy made me realize what strength is... and that I have it. It gave me time to work through that onus of weakness and failure. Time to realize that God's plan was perfect - even for my children. Even if it means that they may have to live without me someday. It gave me time to appreciate my husband for the man that he is and not the one I sometimes wish he was. And to be grateful for those in my life that have always been there for me, and even more that stepped out of shadows and into my life. Mostly, it gave me time to acknowledge my life, my loves and my future... in all its incarnations.

I am so pleased to be here three years and one day later. I am proud of the journey I've made. I am grateful that I have been able to walk my boys through a difficult time and prepare them for others in the future. More grateful still that those future tragedies just might not include their mother.

When I look back at that afternoon in December 2005 I see myself consumed with fear. Today I have replaced that fear with power and action. Daddy-O still refuses to mention the "C" word by name, choosing instead to simply reference his worry from time to time, knowing I'll know exactly what he means. As for me, I talk about it often - stripping cancer's power and making it my own.

I am more than a Breast Cancer Survivor - I am a Thriver.

People's HealthBlogger Awards

A few weeks ago I thought it might be a good idea to enter Mothers With Cancer in the People's HealthBlogger Awards. The Awards are for any bloggers who write primarily about health or healthy living topics. That's certainly MWC! Plus, the Awards are sponsored or invented or made up... (whatever) by a website that is forever sending me all sorts of email invitations that I quite rudely delete and ignore. A little more visibility with our target audience would be nice compensation for the probable carpal tunnel I'll eventually get in my Delete Finger.

Anyway, that great idea was a few weeks ago (I think). But, as I've been discovering, my mind is as water tight as a leaky dinghy at best... and a collander at worst. So I applied and promptly forgot all about it. That's me. Memory like a steel trap! At least that used to be the case. *sigh*

Frankly, I've been a bit worried about my memory issues of late. I can't seem to remember anything anymore. This isn't the run of the mill Chemo Brain. On Wednesday Ben had an appointment with Dr. Flaton at 10:30. I saw it on the kitchen calendar that morning. I left Daddy-O a note reminding him to let the school know I'd be picking Ben up. I told Ben about the appointment. I even remembered to grab the medication evaluation paperwork from the bookcase. Next thing I know, my cell phone is ringing and it's Dr. Flaton's office calling to ask if we were keepingour appointment. It was 10:45! Gah!

The day before I discussed with Wonder Sitter keeping Danny home from preschool the next day. I agreed to call his therapists & let them know not to show up. I couldn't even remember that long enough for the 3 block drive home. I did finally remember it 24 hours later as I was driving home from our office Christmas party. I am not going to go into the dozens of messages and reminders I have forgotten to give Daddy-O.

Of course, I worry about breast cancer metastasis to the brain. At least that's what I worry about when I remember there is something to worry about. Directly after the thought of mets enters my head I hear a resounding "Pshaw!" bouncing around between my ears. I guess I don't really believe I have a brain metastasis. It's just that I have always had a near perfect memory - particularly for daily minutia. It's frustrating to completely forget entire appointments and conversations. I imagine it's much like being a man...

Just in case someone Googles brain mets looking for some useful information and got my drivel instead, I will include a list of the 7 Typical Signs or Symptoms of Brain or Spinal Metastisis.

In any patient previously diagnosed with cancer, the following should raise the suspicion for a brain tumor:

1. A persistent headache with or without vomiting.
2. Seizures (Change in type or frequency )
3. Double vision, mental changes, speech difficulty.
4. Stroke (brain hemorrhage). Certain brain metastases, such as melanoma, renal carcinoma, and choriocarcinoma bleed easily.
5. Confusion
6. Any numbness, arm or leg weakness, back pain, difficulty walking.
7. Loss of control of bowel or bladder.

Numbers 6,7 are more common with spinal metastases.

Fortunately, I'm just forgetful (probably getting old) and a hypochodriac as the only symptom I can lay claim to is "mental changes". If I can remember long enough I'll say a little thank you for that during my prayers tonight.

In the meantime, click on the handy little button on the right and give a vote for MWC.

A Life Sentence

If you'll remember back a bit, I posted an excerpt from Ben's Sentence Completion List. This was an assignment from Dr. Flaton, the pediatric ADD specialist. As a very special treat for you today, I will post the remainder of Ben's sentences. And perhaps a comment or two if you are very, very good readers. Just a reminder, Ben is 8 years old.

1. I would like to be a scientist.

2. My mother loves chocolate martinis. (ack! choke! cough! While technically true, this was not high on my list of things I wanted the doctor to know.)

3. I cannot have a cell phone. (This is so true. But I am considering wrist watch walkie talkies with a mile and a half range.)

4. If I only had a cell phone I'd love my Mom and Dad. (Boy! They learn early don't they? The answer is still "NO!")

5. Girls _____________________ (He had no reply to that. I find that comforting on so many levels.)

6. I am ashamed of Danny having attitude. (Note that he's not ashamed of his own behavior. This answer is totally worthy of a presidential candidate!)

7. I am afraid of nothing. (Yeah, that's what I was afraid of...)

8. I like Pokemon cards.

9. I don't like summer school.

10. I love my Mom, Dad and Danny.

11. Boys are my friends.

12. Mother should do nothing. (I am not exactly sure how to take that... but I like it.)

13. There are times when I am bored.

14. I hate bullies.

15. It makes me sad to watch a kid being bullied.

16. My home is small.

17. Father should do nothing. (again with that?)

18. People think that I am stupid. (What!? After much teeth gnashing and hand wringing it turns out there is a snotty 2nd grader that asks him things like "what is 1000 x 200?" When Ben doesn't know the answer he tells him he's stupid. Grrrrr!)

19. Sometimes I think about skateboarding and fishing and surfing.

20. Nobody knows that I have ADD. (I can't decide if it's wonderful or really sad that he doesn't get that people know he's ADD...)

21. The best thing that ever happened to me was riding a horse.

22. The worst thing that ever happened to me was breaking my wrist the first time.


So, I guess we haven't completely ruined our kid. Except for being outed about the chocolate martini addiction and the small house it's all good.

Did anyone notice what didn't make the list anywhere?????

CANCER.

That's right. No cancer anywhere.

No, "worst thing that ever happened to me was mom getting cancer..."

No, "mom should buy a wig..."

No, "afraid my mom will die..."

Just normal, every day eight-year-old boy stuff: science, surfing, cell phones and Pokemon cards. Thank you, Lord!

Cross posted to Mothers with Cancer

Imaginary friends, clinical trials and the joys of poop

I've had a bunch of things to share with you, none of which seemed worthy of a whole post in and of themselves. So today will be a Tapas Topic day, in that the subjects will be small and plentiful yet not enough to make a post.


Tapa numero uno
First there is this new site called BreastCancerTrials.Org that lets you enter your health history, then matches you up with any clinical trials you might qualify for. All for free. How cool is that? Well, not cooler than not actually having cancer... but still pretty nifty.

I entered my information. Since I am currently cancer-free, am not undergoing any treatments and do not take Herceptin or any other receptor-positive treatments (praise God for all that), I only qualify for two trials, neither of which I am interested in at the moment. The first, categorized as Supportive, was on treating vaginal dryness for women with breast cancer. Um, yeah. No thanks. The second is Preventative in nature and one I would be interested in if it were closer to me. It is on diet and exercise to prevent breast cancer or a recurrence. So interested in that. Unfortunately, the nearest research site is Houston, TX. But that doesn't mean YOU won't have better luck so go fill out your own health history and see what pops up.

Tapa numero dos
And did I tell you that Danny has an imaginary friend. Yep. It's official. Absolutely no one knows who Brenden is - ergo, he must only exist in D's imagination - unless he suddenly grew a social life I don't know about. (And how unfair would that be since I don't have one?) I guess Brenden has been hanging around in conversation for about 5 or 6 weeks now. I actually thought he was a real kid. Danny talks about him the same way he talks about everyone else, in the third person, in question format, as if he interacts with them on a daily basis. (i.e. "Does Alayna clap at the soccer game?") I just assumed Brenden was one of the boys in his new preschool class. When I finally got around to asking, turns out he's not.

I've never known anyone that actually had an imaginary friend. Intellectually I know there is nothing wrong with it but I guess I've still always thought there was just a little something off about those kids. And that's not to say there isn't something a just a little off about Danny either... However, this article I found from the Seattle Post - Intelligencer Reporter was comforting nonetheless.

Tapa numero tres
For those of you sick to death of politics, please skip this tapa. Actually, this might fall more under the confession category than anything else. I voted "yes" on Proposition 8 - the ban on gay marriage. Weeks ago, actually. And now I wish I could take back my vote. I have never had an issue with civil unions or any of the other rights or privileges that come along with such a legal status. My single objection has always been with calling a same-sex partnership a marriage. How hypocritical of me. Who am I to deny equality to any segment of society? The worst of it is that I knew it was hypocritical and discriminatory when I cast the vote. And still I did it! I voted with my emotions and not my intellect. Gah! I hope it is overturned - again.


Tapa numero quatro
I promise this one is lighter by far. We've been seeing an ADD specialist for Ben, Dr. Flaton. I really, really like working with her. She's already given me great insight into what it must be like to be ADHD... helped me see things from Ben's viewpoint. At any rate, she gave Ben a bunch of questions to answer before our next appointment. They are haaard questions. At least I thought so. I guess they could be perfectly simple also. The few that Ben completed I thought were answered very well. (spelling has been corrected because I couldn't stand it.)

1. Tomorrow I will "go to the beach and play."
2. I wish that I "was rich and famous."
3. I worry about "my little brother."
4. I hope "I will never die in a 100 years."
5. My father "is going fishing today."
6. In school I "learn about science."
7. It isn't nice to "be a bully to other kids."
8. My teacher "is nice and kind."

Tapa numero cinco
Yesterday was our last soccer obligation for the season. It was an entire tournament day. We love soccer and have had a wonderful season - even though we haven't won a single game. Well, before yesterday. We actually won the very last game of the season. 4-0. Woohoo! The boys were thrilled! Here is a picture of Ben celebrating with Coach Daddy-O.

Sweet, huh? Oh course, that's not the real story here. Danny and I sat on the sidelines the whole day. We had a great time cheering an clapping for Ben's team.

Unfortunately, Danny had an accident in his pants because the port-a-potties were so far away.

Fortunately, I had thought ahead and put him in a pull-up before we left the house.

Unfortunately, I had already removed all kid stuff from my van in preparation for Daddy-O's fishing trip so I didn't have any wipes or other pull-ups. Yikes! It was only 10 AM.

Fortunately, one of the other mom's had everything I needed. Day saved. After lunch there was another small accident before we made it to the outhouse.

Unfortunately, this time there was diarrhea involved. Ack! Still no supplies and now day-saving mom had taken her diaper bag to lunch.

Fortunately, Danny doesn't mind going commando.

Unfortunately, the diarrhea wasn't an isolated incident.

Fortunately, he was wearing very dark, thick pants and there wasn't very much of it... that second time.

Unfortunately, there was also a third time.

All I can say is that my youngest son is such a trooper. He was swooped up, rushed home, stripped, thrown in a bath, scrubbed within an inch of his life, brusquely dried & redressed then back at the soccer fields within 30 minutes. Surely a record.

Portions cross posted to Mothers With Cancer

New and Improved! Now even better than before!

That’s me. New and Improved.

The obvious, of course, is that experts have worked hard to remove all cancer from my body. As a result, I am now Cancer Free. And we all know that the less ingredients something contains the more it is worth. Today, however, I received an unexpected upgrade.

This afternoon I had my optometrist appointment. The first one in a little over two years. I hadn’t really remembered much from my last appointment. My main goal is always to get my contact prescription refilled and get on with my life. But that particular year, 2006, I was in the midst of breast cancer treatment. I had just finished 8 rounds of dose dense chemotherapy, had just had my first single mastectomy and was regaining my strength in anticipation of 6 months of oral chemo in concert with 6 weeks of radiation therapy. In short, I had other things on my mind than my eyes. So I was a bit nonplussed when Dr. E asked if my cataract had been bothering me.

I didn’t even remember I had a cataract. Once he said it, though, it all did sound vaguely familiar. Something about a very small developing cataract that we were going to keep an eye on…

At any rate, Dr. E settled in to begin my exam. “Let’s get a look at that fading near vision.” He says as he hands me a card with impossibly small letters on it. As he logged my results in my chart it was his turn to look a bit confused. It seems my near vision is better now than it was two years ago. I reminded him that I had been in the midst of chemo last time and under a significant amount of stress to boot. Perhaps that had effected my eyesight. He was skeptical. “Maybe… but that has never been my experience.”

Whatever, I know what stress can do. A bit of blurred vision is the least of the possibilities.

Then he moved on to “get a look at that cataract”. Only he couldn’t find it. You read it correctly. He looked and he looked. He used about three different lights and all but crawled inside my eyeball his own self. Seems I no longer have a small developing cataract.

Dr. E is such a jovial man. It was wonderful to see him all but scratch his head and smile while he said that it just must have been the chemotherapy because there certainly wasn’t any cataract now. He declared me “Too perfect. More perfect than last time.” and sent me on my way.

A little over two years ago I had Inflammatory Breast Cancer, a small cataract, fading near vision, and cough-variant asthma. Today I am cancer free, cataract free, have perfect near vision and no asthma issues to speak of. I’m a advertiser’s dream!

More importantly, I am blessed beyond measure.

Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer

God's Country

We just came home from Yosemite. It's the first time I've ever been there. Man, did God ever work overtime on that place! He certainly out did himself.

Words really can't express how beautiful the park is so I will just give you a glimpse of my photos from Saturday.

"I Feel Good" (cue James Brown)

I wasn't a blogger when I had cancer. Mostly I think that's a bad thing. It would have been interesting to read back over my posts from those first days after diagnosis - to hear the shell-shock in my words. Or those days of chemo and radiation and pure exhaustion. But other days, I feel that it's all for the best to have those memories locked up inside me in a place that only I will ever see. Overall I am an extremely positive person, but there were some fairly desolate hours during treatment.

All of that only makes me more aware of how far I've come. How good things are these days.

I have always had a strong constitution yet the year or so before my cancer diagnosis (when I was pregnant with Danny) I was plagued by irritating physical issues. I wasn't sick, per se. I was, however, very "run down". I developed a cough that wouldn't go away and eventually made it so difficult to catch my breath that I found myself spending New Years Day 2005 in the Emergency Room. This was not my first trip there either. I'd been twice before for the same thing. I would just cough to the point of (wetting myself) and not being able to get any oxygen. The very act of talking was almost more than I could handle at times. Those of you who know me understand how torturous that was. The long and short of it was Cough Variant (Bronchial) Asthma irritated by my pregnancy. Those were bleak days. Hey... maybe that's why chemo wasn't so difficult for me. At least I could breath.

So... the point I'm trying to make is this...

Here it is, our End of Fiscal Year at work, and I've been working my tail off. I worked 58 hours last week and 56 the week before (including weekends). I go home and have visitation with my boys (that's what it feels like these days), order in some dinner and collapse on the couch until everyone under 4' tall is asleep and I can finally go to bed myself. Then it all starts over again the next day. And yet, I feel wonderful. Exhilarated. Tired, to be sure, but good.

I can breathe. That's always a great thing. I'm not so short tempered as to be a shrieking harridan with my husband and kids. Shamefully, this has not always been the case in the past. And I have enough energy to go to and enjoy Ben's soccer games, surf the internet and manage my fantasy football team.

It's funny how we tend to lose sight of our blessings - like good health and abundant energy - in the midst of our work-a-day world. Those all important things that we take for granted until they are pulled from us. Today I am counting my blessings.

Side note: I just got a sad call from Daddy-O. All male members of my household are home sick today. Laid low by head colds.

Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer

How to be happy in spite of it all, part 1

Just after I returned to work after breast cancer treatment, a co-worker paid me an incredible compliment. She told me that I had handled my diagnosis and treatment with (I am paraphrasing here with all the accuracy Chemo-Brain permits) incredible grace and, well, I can't remember what else, but it was good. The general idea was that I had a wonderfully positive attitude that continued to astound those around me.

I pshawed her, of course. Because, there was nothing graceful about my actions nor reactions. Nothing heroic. Nothing brave. At least I didn't think so. I was just doing what I had always done during trying times. What I had watched my mother do before me. And my grandmother before her. I put on a happy face.

Sounds simple doesn't it? Or maybe you're thinking simplistic is more like it. Well, you're probably right. When others began asking me exactly how I stayed so positive in the face of a daunting cancer diagnosis and 90% recurrence risk, right on the heals of my finding out my infant was born blind, well, I couldn't explain it. At least not in terms of usable information. It's just something I'd been raised doing. I didn't know quite how to explain the process.

Then I found The Bounce Back Book, by Karen Salmansohn a few weeks ago. It's a short little self-help book, more along the lines of a pocket manual than a book, but it certainly clarified things for me. Salmansohn has a knack for doing exactly what I could not; break down the process of having and maintaining a positive attitude.

In her book, Salmansohn offers 75 tips for "thriving in the face of adversity, setbacks, and losses." Many of these tips are a bit redundant, merely rewording the same advice to fit a slightly different situation. Sometimes that's what it takes, however, for understanding to register. Hearing something many, many different ways. I don't mean for this to be a book review, yet if I had a friend going through a rough patch and looking for a way to fight negativity, I'd consider sending The Bounce Back Book. We could all learn a bit from it's pages.

For my purposes here, I will tell you what I took away from this book. That is, I will share with you those behaviors (as identified by Salmansohn) that I have practiced over the years and feel contributed to my success in overcoming the more negative crap life has thrown my way.

The Formula
Each of us has a genetic tendency toward optimism or pessimism, according to The Happiness Project in the U.K. This, however, only accounts for about 50% of our personal happiness equation. The rest is all about what you do and the choices you make. Dr. Jonathan Haidt even came up with a fancy, schmancy formula to become happier. And he's a Positive Psychologist, or a positive psychologist (I'm not sure which-but I think it might make a difference) so he ought to know.

H = S + C + V

H = happiness level C = current conditions

S = set point for happiness V = voluntary activities

I happen to think Dr. Haidt is on to something.

Family
About that genetic predisposition towards happiness, or not. I guess I must have it. We're real Nietzsche people in my family, "What does not kill us, makes us stronger." And boy, oh, boy, have we been getting stronger in my lifetime. I've always remembered my Mom laughing off the bad times. She always found the humor in life when I was growing up and still does to this day.

Humor saved the day when I was fourteen years old, sitting in the front row in front of my Father's casket with the rest of my family at his funeral. As you can imagine, it had been a stressful few days after he'd died, no matter how expected his death was. We, as a family, have always turned to humor in times of stress. True to form, when we noticed that the florist's shop had placed an arrangement directly in front of my Mom's chair that was completely bug-eaten, we just couldn't stop the giggles. I'm sure the entire congregation behind us thought we were sobbing uncontrollably, in reality, we were shaking from trying not to laugh out loud.

We're sort of wacked, I know. But that outlook has served us well, over the years. In general, we try to always see the humor in a situation. One of my very first comments after my cancer diagnosis, which came close to Christmas 2005, was that I wouldn't have to worry about what I ate over the holidays because I was starting the Chemo Diet come January!! Woohoo! Holidays, here I come!

My family could have focused on the loss of my dad, instead we chose to break an overwhelming situation down into more manageable pieces. We focused on the insect-riddled flowers to get through the funeral.

Similarly, I chose to see the diet-free holiday season as a silver lining instead of the dark cloud that was a cancer diagnosis. The cloud hadn't blown away and my dad was still gone but my outlook on the world was much more positive for my efforts.

Cross posted at Mothers with Cancer

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies

Today was my seventh 3-month follow-up oncology appointment. For those of you who don't feel like doing the math this late in the day, that's 21 months post-treatment. 21 months No Evidence of Disease (NED). 21 months of living life. Of course, there is always bad with the good. It was also 21 months of waiting for that other shoe to drop. 21 months of worry. 21 months of mental Do Before I Die lists and At My Funeral Memorial Service lists.

I did get a clean bill of health today. My blood work was all normal. My lymph nodes were all fine. I have no bone pain, pulmonary issues nor headaches beyond the norm. In short, I rock Survivorship! Knock wood.

This 3-month appointment was different than the others, however. This time, I asked questions. This time I wanted more than a checkup. I wanted information too.

I've already shared that I purposely avoided IBC information while I was undergoing treatment and why (read all about it in my memoirs, Why bad Focal Points Happen To Good People) also that I don't have a great track record with asking my doctor cancer questions. The last time I worked up the gumption to ask a scary question I DID NOT like the answer. Can you say 90% recurrence risk?

So I started small, with the nurse who took my blood pressure when I asked her to make copies of my pathology reports. I've somehow lost them over the last 2 years. (Besides, amazingly enough, the details were fading and I was no longer sure I had my facts straight.) Wow. She came right back with them. She didn't even tell me I would need to pay a small fee for copies like the old office. So far so good.

When Dr. Villa came in we hugged and I showed her the new pictures of the boys. Then I told her all about this site and how excited I am about it. She asked for flyers or cards - which I have not made yet. My bad. Then we got down to business. Thanks to posting here I've developed the courage to ask the questions I've been wanting to ask for a long time.

I asked her about the original statistics she had given me about recurrence. She had told me most recurrence occurs at 2 and 5 years. And I'm coming up on the 2 year mark. She said that she had forgotten that I was triple negative when she had given me those numbers. The figures for triple negative breast cancer are more like 12 to 18 months. But I am beyond that. And that is very, very good. Perhaps, she says, you've fallen into that niche of ones who sneak through.

More good news. This was working out better than I'd hoped. So I asked about the infamous Cancer 5 Year Mark. "Does that hold true for Inflammatory Breast Cancer also?"

"I'm going to say 'yes'," she said. Yes? Yes! Yowza! Something to work towards!

And I asked about preventive clinical trials that I may qualify for. There are none at the moment. It's nice to know she's keeping her eyes open for me. I've wondered about that for a while now. She did mention two new bits of research that she wants to keep in mind for me.

We will check my Vitamin D level with my next blood work. Studies have shown that breast cancer patients who are deficient in Vitamin D have almost double the chance of a recurrence or spread over 10 years time and are 73% (!) more likely to die. Holy cow!!! It's not about drinking milk. It's about getting 15 minutes in the sunshine without sunscreen daily. Do it! 73% is too huge a risk not to.

She's also closely watching Avastin for it's benefits in preventing recurrence.

I had read about both when they came out so it's nice to know I'm keeping up well enough on my own.

I want to send a big Thank You to every one of the women at Mothers With Cancer. The sisterhood that is forming before my eyes is already having its effects. Empowerment. Strength. And this is only the beginning.

I am one. Are you?

I always knew I was. I just didn’t know why. And I certainly didn’t know what to tell you when you’ve asked or commented on how well I’ve handled this or that.

“Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. I’m just a Mom doing the whole Mom Thing. You’d do the same.”

But the fact is you might not.

According to this article that ran in our paper yesterday, I’ve long been a member of some secret happy society. Here are Ms. Griffith’s observations on what makes happy people happy. I have to say I think she’s on to something.

Live in the present.
Don’t look for a specific event to happen “some day” to make you happy. Be happy in the place you are right now.

I do pretty well with this one these days, although when I was much younger I spent all my time waiting for my life to “start”. Ha! Good thing I got tired of waiting around and took matters into my own hands.

My biggest problem here is not living in the present but being present. Does that make sense? Like when I’m down on the floor playing with my boys and I’m really thinking how much laundry there is to be done, that dinner needs to be started, and how B hasn’t cleaned his room yet like I told him to this morning. That way he’s not allowed to be present either. Humph.

Ok. I’ll try to work on this a bit more for happiness’ sake.

Practice forgiveness.
Pretty self-explanatory. Anyone know how to teach someone how to do this? I’ve been doing it as long as I can remember, but have never had to contemplate the process before. In my discussions with a co-worker I recognized the truth of the matter. Forgiveness is a decision not a feeling. So many people wait around for that feeling of forgiveness to wash over them. It’s just not going to happen that way. Unless you make a deliberate choice to shrug off the bitterness or malice you feel towards someone it just isn’t going to go away. In other words, Fake it till you make it, Baby!!!

Have a thick skin.
Don’t be easily offended. I try (this is the operative word here, folks) to see the offending party’s point of view. It helps me decide first, if I even need to be offended, and second if the shoe being thrown at me is indeed my size. I am not always completely successful in this. I mean, I love a good bitch-fest just as much as the next girl… then it’s out of my system and I move on. But sometimes… sometimes I’ll be hit with a comment that is visibly benign yet still find myself seething with resentment or anger or just plain old hurt feelings… I am always just as shocked by this as the offender. I do hate it when my psychological junk drawer gets stuck open and crap starts falling all over the place.

Find the joy in little things.
This doesn’t count if we’re talking about sex. I’m just saying.

Bring beauty into your life.
I think this is incredibly important. I need to see the wonder of God around me every day. I lived in town for two years when Daddy-O & I first started dating. After a few months I was seriously depressed. I saw nothing but town my entire way to work. Asphalt. Sidewalks. Trees surrounded by sidewalks. Traffic lights. Cars. No nature. No wildlife. No nothing.

Now I am back in the “country” or at least the unincorporated area of the County. My drive to town every day is an array of tidal splendor, spectacular views of Hollister Peak, cows and horses grazing on the hillsides, and agricultural fields sparkling with dew in the sunrise. It is rejuvenating. There is no better way to begin and end my day.

Get connected.
Some of the unhappiest people I know are no longer speaking to one or more of their parents or siblings. I say life is too short to sweat the small stuff. Get over it. I try to maintain my relationships. Even with my Ex’s. Plus, there’s all of you. People scoff. But apparently all us happy people know all about connections like the internet and blogging and such.

Now you’re probably reading this thinking one of two things. Either you think I’m full of crap or you think I’m an incredibly well-adjusted Mommy Blogger/Cancer Survivor. Well, you’re all wrong. No. You’re all right. I’m both of those things. I am also none of those things. And just to prove it, I offer into evidence the last advice for being happy:

Celebrate every day.
I don’t think she’s talking about birthdays here. But I do like what she says and she’s on the money. “Every day is a miracle. Just ask someone with a terminal illness.” Man alive, there is nothing like a cancer diagnosis to make you glad to get up in the morning. The post-diagnosis joy in and appreciation for life can only be compared to a post-coital man’s generosity toward all humankind and general willingness to do anything asked of him.

Unfortunately, it lasts about as long too. This is where I am today. My rose colored glasses are all askew again. I’m having a hard time looking beyond the “I’m broke” and the price of gas to all the “Will you just listen to that bird singing!”

I guess I’ll add this one to my check list too. We all have to have a project after all.

Birthdays, Bumps and Babysitters

Meet the newest three year old in our neighborhood as he is introduced to his new bff Mike the Mower. He is also the proud owner of a new Home Depot blower, a hand vac that I believe may be the younger brother of the floor vacuum we already tolerate on a regular basis and their distant cousin, the talking broom. Tragically, the blower broke approximately 2.2 minutes after changing the batteries in an attempt to fix its lagging motor noises. Poor D. This was by far his favorite toy. He w-a-i-l-e-d when I told him we would have to send it back and get a new one that worked. "I. Don't. Huuup. Want. To. Send. It. Baaaack."

Tragic. He's sleeping with the (blissfully) silent blower now. There was a 30 minute round of negotiations to determine the sleeping arrangements of the handvac and mower, however. All are quietly enjoying a sleepover in the livingroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had my CT scan last week and saw Dr. V to go over the results. Guess what? I'm gonna live! It, apparently, is really nothing more than an over-developed muscle. Other than that... I am as healthy as a horse and Dr. V says, "you'll be around for a good long time, I think."

Mmmmmm-wwwwwaa! I love her. I love good news.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

However, this next topic puts the fear of God in me. Somehow, we have left our Wonder Sitter feeling taken for granted and taken advantage of. She is very, very upset with us and said the "N" word. Notice.

This woman has become more family to us in the last three years than many of our true relatives. She has been named guardian of our kids should anything happen to us. She is D's aide at preschool. I don't know what we would do without her. Take advantage of her? Absolutely. She offers. We accept. Take her for granted? Not in a million years. Not one second of three years.

My cup overfloweth or... Sometimes I can be so dense

So. (insert big heaving sigh here) The patches have been a bit on the rough side around Ourhouse lately. I could go into all sorts of detail about being off for cancer treatment for a year... blah, blah... Daddy-O being in a service industry in a crappy economy with monied clients who can't see fit to pay their bills in a timely manner... blah, blah, gak, sputter, ptewwy. Ahem. Suffice it to say that our belts have been tight of late. We've been looking quite waspish, in fact.

Daddy-O & I have both been suffering in our own silent ways with the stress of the situation. Both losing sleep, etc. Not that we are any different then the rest of the nation. Far from it. Not a fact that eases the stressors, let me tell you. But we've been taking action - not sitting idly by watching our finances fall to pieces. It has just been an uphill battle. When everyone you know is paddling the same type boat you are it's hard to imagine you'll ever see dry land again.

Well, last Thursday I was laying in bed all relaxed from not having the boys all evening. (Now right there is blessing number one. Our Super Sitter took B & D on vacation with her for Spring Break. They went on the train (!) to her sister's house. Left last Wednesday & won't be back until this Wednesday.) All of a sudden it dawned on me... in all these stressed out months I have not once prayed about our money woes. Not once. I'm ashamed to even admit it. Sheesh. I guess I hate asking for help so much I don't even take the complaints upstairs...

I quickly remedied that situation with a quicky request for at least a bit of help in the stress-processing department until we could work through this next bit. Right away I felt much better. I slept well for the first night in weeks.

Friday was business as usual until the afternoon when Daddy-O called me at work. Out of the blue he got an offer for his Westfalia. It wasn't for sale. Had never been advertised. Long story short, this morning found him at the bank getting fifteen thousand dollars counted into his hand.

You heard me right. I guess you could say that was blessing number two, eh?

Now it's not like we get to go on a big spending spree. He still has to buy another car. A much smaller, cheaper car. And the rest will fill in the gaps a bad economy has left in our budget. One day after my prayer. I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.

So this morning I was able to go see my chiropractor for the badly needed adjustment I've been putting off due to lack of money. What did he do while I was there? He gave me a tent trailer. That's right. Blessing number three, come on down! I told him Daddy-O had sold his Westy camper van & was a bit on the bummed out side... next thing I know he's asking if I want this tent trailer. Oh, and it's an ultra-light and can be pulled with a car. Yeah.

So I'm all high on life & back to work when our secretary tells me that my leave statement has changed significantly since my last check. This is never good. I got a lot of donated leave when I was off on medical & it completely messed up my bookwork. Everytime I would use donated leave they would take some of the leave I should have earned on my own and "bank" it... but no one could ever tell us how or when/if I would get it back.

Today, I got it all back. 32 hours of vacation and 19 hours of sick leave. Blessing number four. I also took advanced sick leave. I am currently still paying it back. Until today I wouldn't have had it paid back until Thanksgiving this year (& I've been back to work a year already). Now I'll start earning sick leave again in September. Woohoo!

One little prayer. "Help us with some stress, Lord. We're drowning down here."

Three days and three big blessings later our stress load is a whole lot lighter. Thank God.

Smorgasbord

First order of business is to make my first attempt at passing out some Blogger Bling. I was reading Andrea of Punk Rock Mommy this morning and was, as always, humbled by the soul-baring, matter-of-fact beauty in her faith, her friends and her fight against Inflammatory Breast Cancer.

"A friend called me today and asked me about praying for God to do a miracle and heal me. My friend wanted to know what I thought about this. I will tell you what I told her. I think that God does not need to heal me to prove He is good. I think that I will live exactly as long as He wills it. I pray for God’s will to be done. I believe that there is a perfect plan in place set forth by a benevolent and loving God. And if it is His will that my testimony include a miracle it will, but if it does not than that is OK too. I am totally accepting of however this fight ends. I do not even care how many rounds it goes. Its me and cancer in this ring , you all are spectators. And if God steps in, fine. If not that’s OK too. In my heart I believe that we are supposed to allow God to work in our lives, even in ways that we do not understand or enjoy.
Just because I talk about death and do not expect a miracle does not mean that I am not fighting. I assure you I am. I am taking tons of toxic medication and dealing with all its side effects in the belief that it can and will heal me, even if only for awhile."

How beautiful is that? If that doesn't deserve an Inspirational Blogger Award I don't know what
does. Andrea, this is for you. Gee, hope I did that right.

**********************

I have some news of my own today. I get to have my port-a-cath taken out. Yeah! Not that I really mind having it in. I've actually been very, very lucky in that it's given me absolutely no problems whatsoever. My mom's got infection after infection. Another dear friend, Jaci, who passed just last Thanksgiving, had hers work it's way right out of her chest! I've been fortunate.

My oncologist recommends that I leave it in for the life-span of the product, which is five years, due to my high risk of recurrence. I've been OK with that. However, since my switch to a PPO insurance this past January the maintenance on the dang thing has become cost prohibitive. I have to get it flushed every month which costs me about $55 between my co-pay and share of cost each time I go in. That really adds up. So, we've agreed to take it out. Yeah! One more step closer to normal - even if it was a fiscal-based decision not a health-based one.

*********************

WhyMommy's post today served as a timely reminder of the truly important things in life. There seems to be one universal side effect of cancer. A renewal of le joie de vivre - the joy of life. Call it what you wish: spirituality, positive attitude, grace, a new lease on life or whatever... but most cancer patients/survivors are infused with this need "to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life" (-- from 'Dead Poet's Society').

Sadly, after being back in the working world for 10 months, and 14 months beyond chemo, I find that the bloom is beginning to fade from the rose. I snap at my kids for just being kids. I vent my frustrations in inappropriate places. I dispair of ever getting my hair past it's "growing out" stage already to one I can work with - forgetting that not so very long ago I would have been very pleased with any old mop of hair at all. And I have been taking for granted those friends who have been there for me when I have needed them these past years, in my current healthy stability.

Thank you, WhyMommy, for reminding me that each and every day is a gift to be cherished - whether it's spent pain-free, full of drudgery, laughing with a friend, or crying on one's shoulder. As the saying goes, "Any day above ground is a good day."

3,287 Days = Just Yesterday

Last night was magical. Not magical by the standards I used to hold, where a man would woo me in some enchanting location with softly whispered words of passion and promise while my head swam from too much drink and sexy hormones. But magical in a much more realistic, we've been married for nine (!!!) years, have two kids and a heavy mortgage but I still think you're hot, kind of way. Yesterday was our 9 year anniversary. That's 606 days of marital bliss and another 2,681 days of marriage after we had kids. And I wouldn't trade in a day.

Who would have guessed our wedding vows would turn out to be so prophetic... "for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health..." Had I only known I was charting a course I might have picked some different ones. Maybe some with out the down side.

My gift to Daddy-O was an obligation-free morning (no dropping off children at school and daycare) so he could have and early morning surf session with all his contractor buddies. And I arranged for the kids to stay the night with the sitter. Daddy-O's gift to me was a meal prepared with his own two hands that I didn't have to lift a finger nor a brain cell for. It was heavenly!!! There was spinach salad, t-bone steaks cooked to perfection, warm fresh baked bread, baked potatoes and steamed mixed veggies - all washed down with my favorite Cakebread Chardonnay. Mmmmmm. And there wasn't a sippy cup or a raised voice to be found. He also pulled a little surprise out of his hat (figuratively speaking, thankfully) and had dropped by the lingerie store. It was a very nice night. Daddy-O's all full of surprises.

I'm looking forward to the next nine. I wonder what other tricks he's got up his sleeve?

Gone Country

We're back from our Thanksgiving trip to Nana's house. We're all fat and happy from the carb-fest and suffering only minimal emotional scarring from the enforced family time cooped up in a car for nearly 8 hours straight with a blind toddler overly entranced with asking "whatchu doin'?", a 7 year old with ADD, Daddy-O with a cold quickly making a run for his moist lungs and me, the driver, with a foot that could not possibly be too heavy.

The boys had a wonderful time. They reveled in the countriness that is Nana's House. B loved the freedom of a small neighborhood where he can ride his bike all day long without fear of being hit by a speeding vehicle. He spent the days there shooting bb guns and collecting leeches . The boys were loudly screamed at and swatted at with various hands and cleaning/cooking implements while simultaneously being shooed out of the house, all the while proudly trying to show us the cool leeches they found. Yughghghh! And there was plenty of nightcrawler digging for fishing. What 7 year old boy doesn't love that?

As for D... well, he just got doted on. He is just as big a ham as B was at that age. I swear, the more attention you give that boy the more he mugs for you. And he has found a new love. The Tire Swing. He's never been on anything but a toddler swing before so he was definately scared at first. But once he figured out that it was just a new twist on an old favorite... watch out! He was hooked! Poor Daddy-O was suffering outside in the cold for so long that I finally took pity on him. I had to tell D the Tire Swing was tired and had to go ni-ni. Then he very willingly came in the house and had his own bath. My boy understands ni-ni.

All in all, it was a wonderful, relaxing holiday. My mom and I are cancer free this year for which I am extremely grateful. While the whole family is suffering a bit with the economy (as is everyone else) by and large we have it a far site better than most.

Thanks to all of you for being there for me. And welcome to the begining of my favorite time of the year...

Christmas

Name them one by one

I believe that this afternoon at 6:00 pm est WhyMommy will be on Fox5 news talking about Inflammatory Breast Cancer at this link. It's not up yet so I hope I've got it right. She will also be live blogging on Toddler Planet so go check it out.

***************

In completely un-cancer-related news... Holy Hell, the whole damn state's afire! Seriously, folks, it's bad. Very bad. Thank the good Lord my family (grandparents, aunts, uncles & cousins) are all on the back side of the fire line. Once the winds shift the fire will burn in their direction but there will be no fuel so it should be over relatively quickly by that point. They are not in any danger this time. But there have been plenty of wildfire seasons that have seen me white knuckled with the radio tuned to AM news all day waiting for fire updates.

I cannot fathom 1300+ families without homes... and more to come before it's over, I'm sure. And arson. Arson. Does human depravity have no limits?

So, I count my blessings today.

I am blessed to have such a sympathetic sounding board among my internet friends. My blessings include well-paying jobs for both Daddy-O and myself and a healthy dose of debt to remind us not to spend too much. I am blessed with my health when other's find theirs failing. And I am blessed with my small house seemingly so overcrowded with toys, people, possessions and love when so many have lost so much. What makes you feel blessed?

"I'm gonna LIVE!"

That's what Jo (a uterine cancer survivor) & I always say to one another after we've had a check up with our oncologist. Followed by a big, well deserved hug, of course.

So I saw my oncologist today and it appears I am going to live to see another day. I must admit the last few weeks have had me in a nervous tug-o-war deciding whether to call her early & have her schedule a PET scan. There is just something about the milestone appointments that make every ache, twinge & cough seem to be a portent of recurrent cancerous doom. First I felt a fullness under my arm, then I was convinced there was swollen lymph nodes, next thing you know I had one foot on the banana peel and one in the chemo ward. It's a slippery slope of fear and dread that I try to climb with a rope composed of faith. Some days my rope is stronger than others.

But today, today I made it to the top of the slope.

It was my forth 3 month appointment post treatment. For those of you keeping score, that means that at the end of this week I am officially a One Year Breast Cancer Survivor. My lungs sound great. There is not one thing in my blood work that is abnormal. The fullness and bumps under my arm is just the feeling beginning to return and normal muscle striations. In short, I'm looking good!

My PET scan is being scheduled for next month. And tho I do feel great after getting a clean bill of health today I'll feel greatly relieved to know that there are no microscopic troublemakers loitering around my insides anywhere. And in the meantime, I'M GONNA LIVE! and a big hug to everyone.

********************
In other news... While I was visiting Mama C in Maryland I also had the privilege of meeting this lovely lady and her family at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum.
I am astounded by the greater community of the internet. Both Mama C and WhyMommy would never have crossed my radar were it not for blogs and bulletin boards.

Should I be thanking Al Gore or something???

Things that make me go "Oooh"

Everyone pick up your TiVo remote and program in Crazy Sexy Cancer for August 29th at 6:00 or 9:00.

A bit ago WhyMommy had emailed me in reply to my offer to forward some cancer books. He question was a valid one. (I'm paraphrasing here but you get the picture) "Are there any that are positive? Because the ones I'm scanning are scaring the crap out of me." Unfortunately, I didn't have much in the way of good news for WhyMommy and even joked that perhaps that should be my mission - to write the Girlfriend's Guide to Cancer. Well someone beat me to it.

I went to the website and watched the trailer. I cried. Kris Carr's 7 minutes rolled up my 18 months of treatment. I can't wait to see what insight the special will have. I'm definitely buying the book (with forward by Sheryl Crow), Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips. Kris has a blog too...

Watch it. Buy it. Like it.

Don't Worry Be Happy

I have to appologize to Kate of Sweet/Salty. This was supposed to be an email to her inspired by this post. But as I wrote it I realized that many of my two or less readers probably need to hear these words again. We all need to be reminded of them every now and again - including me after I've spent two very long 9 hour days trapped in a car with my husband and two small children.


Daddy-O and I have spent the better part of the last 2+ years fending off undeserved compliments as to how "wonderful" we've handled the trials in our life. Words like "strength" and "grace", "awe-inspiring" and "amazing" are bandied about by people who have no real concept of their meaning. Many ask how we've managed to keep such positive attitudes through all of our dealings with D's blindness and many surgeries, then my cancer diagnosis and treatment. Daddy-O and I just tell them the simple yet horrible truth. If you have ever spent any time at all in the children's hospital or cancer ward you realize that we have nothing to complain about. We are the lucky ones. There are parents out there that have to deal with all sorts of unimaginable scenarios on a daily basis in their households. Hell, there are parents that haven't seen the inside of their houses in months and months because they sleep sitting up in a hospital recliner waiting for their child to moan and stir in his sleep.

We, Daddy-O and I, are so blessed to have our two boys. Both of them. Even when we bitch. Even when we whine. They are our lives. And we're so very lucky to have each other. We certainly couldn't do it alone. D & B are happy, social, well adjusted boys who are smart and healthy. What's to handle? A bit of a vision problem? A little cancer? Humph! We'll rock the house with that!


Just look at my family! In this picture you'll find: 2 breast cancer survivors, a hemophiliac, and a blind boy. Can you pick them out? Which one of us looks to be suffering?