Gratitude Always~

There are many people to thank and I haven't yet found the time to do it, but I don't want you to think I've forgotten all the kindness shown to us these past months. The flowers, cards, photos, texts and calls are all greatly appreciated and we really were touched to hear how much you cared. In fact, all of this has taught me how important it is to let people know how you feel about them. Which is why I want to write the thank you cards, but I also don't. Writing my gratitude down stirs up emotions that are hard to feel and hard to explain. But I'll get it done. I promise.

Tips for Friends and Family of Cancer Patients

Cancer has barged into our lives again, I'm sad to say. Yet another family member has been diagnosed. Understandably, friends and family are concerned. They want to know what's going on and they want to help, but if you haven't been through it, it's hard to know what's helpful. Every person is different and so is every cancer patient. Some people are very private and others share every detail on social media with the world. Having been through cancer treatment myself and now facing chemotherapy with a loved one, there are a few things that come to mind that would be more helpful than others.

Stay Positive. First and foremost, and this is a hard one, try not to overreact. A cancer diagnosis is not an automatic death sentence these days. After the initial shock of my diagnosis, I realized that I didn't want to mope around like I was already dead and I didn't want others to treat me that way. People can live with cancer for a long time. Like all things in life, it's a marathon, not a sprint. The other thing I've realized is doctors don't know everything. I've heard far too many stories of doctors getting life expectancy terribly wrong. Again, every patient is different and nothing is certain. We just have to take it a day at a time and be the best patient we can be. Please stay positive and help your patient friend stay positive too. Humor is a great alternative to gloom and doom.

I also know you want to help with every suggestion you can think of, but these click-bait articles you find on the internet with miracle cures are not helpful. There is so much garbage about cancer out there you can't believe it! Just try to be supportive and let your patient friend decide what kind of care they want in consultation with their doctors. Unless, of course, you are a doctor yourself. Then feel free to pipe up.

Cooking. There's a tendency to want to cook for the patient and their family. At our house, the patient is not eating large, heavy meals right now and my kids aren't crazy about casseroles, so the only one to eat such things is me. I'm afraid, no matter how well intentioned, food will be wasted. What helps more than food itself is gift cards to buy the special foods that the patient can tolerate. When you're sick, you know how you eat, right? Right now we're eating small meals with high protein if possible. Nothing too spicy, sweet, or fatty. A chemo patient may lose their taste for something they've always enjoyed and their tastes can change from day to day. What sounds delicious one day may sound terrible on another day. You can imagine the grocery bill from trying to accomodate all the changes. Drinks like Boost or Ensure are great; be sure to get the highest protein/highest calorie ones you can find. But ask first if the patient even wants those and what flavors they like. Again, gift cards or money may be the best way to help with food.

Visiting. I think visiting a person when they are ill is a great way to support them, but there are several things to keep in mind. You shouldn't visit if you are sick. Chemotherapy patients have weakened immunity to germs of all kinds. Even if you just have a little cold, skip a visit and text instead. Call before you come and make sure the time you want to visit is OK. Call a day or two ahead to give the patient enough time to be ready for your visit. If you were laying around your house in your underwear, you wouldn't want to be surprised by visitors, right? And once you've set a time, try to be on time. You don't need to stay for a long time unless the patient asks you to. Visit length will all depend upon how long a patient feels comfortable and it's up to you to recognize maybe when it's time to go. Probably shorter is better than longer if they aren't up to talking much.

Helping. I've had lots of offers to help around the house and I truly appreciate those offers. At the moment, I don't need a whole lot of help, but it is reassuring to know that I only have to ask if I need help. And I probably will at some point. I'm lucky to have the flexibility in my job to take leave for all the medical appointments we've had and will be having. I can't imagine doing this with a job that didn't have that flexibility. If your friend or family member with cancer needs help with traveling to appointments, by all means, offer to do that if you can. Offer child care or pet care if they need that. If they have no way to clean their house, do laundry or dishes, offer that. More than anything, we want our lives to feel normal. If your household is falling apart around you, that's not a great way to feel normal.

To this day, I think of that movie scene in Oh God! with John Denver and George Burns as God. God has appeared in John Denver's bathroom to tell him he has a plan for him and John Denver is freaking out. God tells him to shave. "Sometimes when you don't feel normal, doing a normal  thing makes you feel normal," God says. Of course, God is right. We need to maintain an even keel and keep things as normal as we can to stay positive. Thinking too far ahead will drive you crazy.



I want to sincerely thank everyone who's reached out and visited and supported us. It makes this a little easier to bear. Our chemo journey is just starting. It will be hard, but we will get through it. If I forget to thank you for a card or a gift, please know that it is appreciated and I love you.

This life is not a line...

The older I get and the more I live through, the more I realize this life is not a line. It's not some magical set of stairs to the top. It's a circle, a spiral that goes around and around and around. We experience things, we learn, and then we start again, experiencing yet more things, learning new truths. We all prefer happiness, but often times, experiencing pain is what teaches us the most. We are sensory beings, feeling the things around us. Not really soaking them up like a sponge, but reacting like sea anemones - open to what we desire, closed to any perceived danger or threat. I say "perceived" because we can let irrational fears rule us just as easily as real fears.



Most of us no longer live in true "fight or flight" situations, but that ancient part of our brains still thinks we do. If we can recognize that irrational fear and overcome it, we often learn that it wasn't so terrifying after all. Meeting new people, taking a class, starting a new job can all be daunting, but ultimately satisfying.


Sometimes we lose though. When you lose or things don't go the way you thought they would or should, don't lose the lesson. Ask yourself, what did I learn? Was it as scary as I thought? Probably not. Was everyone as nervous as I was? Probably so. How am I changed for having gone through that experience?


Are you facing new challenges? I hope you do, no matter how old or young you are.


This life is not a line. It's a circle.

February 21st

February 21st is an important day for me. Not only is it my father's birthday, it's also the day I found my cancer in 2016. An anniversary.

My dad died of cancer a few years earlier and he's always on my mind this time of year. I can't help feeling like maybe he had something to do with me finding my cancer in some strange way. It was a completely random event on February 21st that led me down the path of diagnosis and treatment, early enough for me to get well. Maybe just a coincidence, but maybe not?

Happy Birthday Dad~ I'll be thinking of you

Well, that sucked! Goodbye 2016!! And good riddance!

It's no secret 2016 sucked for a lot of reasons, but it also sucked for me personally because I was diagnosed with cancer. I feel pretty lucky I'm still here to tell the tale. Last winter/spring was a scary time to be me, but by June my treatment was well underway and I was getting better. I have a lot to be thankful for. Early detection and treatment saved my life. If I'd ignored it, it could have spread and caused me a lot more heartache.

Two other women I love battled cancer this year. One is gone now and the other is still in the midst of the fight. I could easily be there myself one day, but for now, I'm focused on living the best life possible. That means taking my meds and taking care of myself, including eating well and exercising. Did you know that drinking alcohol daily raises your cancer risk? I never drank much before, but now I have even more incentive not to.

But more than that, I have a renewed desire to travel. To see new places I've always heard about. I want to actually go there instead of putting it off to some magical future when I have loads of time and money. There is no such time. We only have today. This is it. This is what we get.

I read a great quote this year - we don't know how we'll die, but we can decide how we will live.

The way I want to live is this: I want the peace in my heart that comes from knowing I did all the things I wanted to and never lost my sense of adventure. I want to be a citizen of the world and I want my children to know that sense of wonder too.

For many years I've blogged about New Year's resolutions, but this year I spent a lot of time giving myself permission not to do a lot of things because I needed to rest and recuperate. For 2017, I only resolve to live. Really, truly live. I hope you do too~

My newest title: Cancer Patient

After having been diagnosed this March with breast cancer, I've been through a whirlwind of medical tests and treatments. Surgery appears to have removed it all. Does that mean I'm cured? In remission? I don't know, but I do know that I'm still a "cancer patient" and probably will be for the rest of my life.

I feel pretty good. I'm lucky enough to only go through radiation therapy. I actually feel guilty that I seem to have gotten off so easy. I still have my breast and my hair. It seems weird to say "I have cancer" because technically, it's gone for all intents and purposes. But many years of cancer research say my odds of reoccurrence are higher now and it's best to be vigilant.

Radiation has been an interesting process. I'm finding most people don't know much about it or confuse it with chemotherapy, which involves taking medications that treat the entire body. The two work very differently. Here's what I've learned, but keep in mind: I'm not a medical professional. This is just my understanding, which may or may not be right.

Radiation is basically a high powered x-ray beam that targets a specific area of the body, in my case, the tissue around my surgery site. That's the place most likely to have microscopic cancer cells still floating around that were missed by the surgery. The radiation kills cells at a certain stage in their life cycle, including cancer cells, and encourages new healthy cells to grow back in their place. This happens naturally all the time, but radiation speeds up the process, which is kind of amazing if you think about it.

The machine that delivers the radiation beam is a huge thing that takes up a big room. It rotates around you while you lay on a table. The process is painless, like an x-ray. There's no light or heat, but there is a green laser line they use to position you exactly the same way each time. The machine clicks a little and whirs when it rotates. It buzzes when the beam is delivered, but it's nowhere near as loud as an MRI machine. It's much faster too. Each treatment lasts maybe 5-10 minutes on the table.

They play an oldies radio station in the room so there's music to distract you, which I think is a nice touch in what could be a really sterile, dark room. The day of my first treatment, Elvis came on the radio. He was singing a song about feeling his temperature rise and I had to laugh. It all seemed so absurd at that moment, lying on my back, half naked with my arms over my head while two technicians I've just barely met push me around on the table until I'm lined up properly. (The position reminds me vaguely of being strung on a torture rack, although it really doesn't hurt, I promise.)

The worst part I've found is the hard "head rest" that isn't that comfortable and essentially being topless in the company of strangers. Thank goodness they're all professional. I guess it's like giving birth - you lose your modesty out of necessity.

The best part is the awesome rose garden the hospital has adjacent to the parking lot that I get to visit every day if I want. The roses are all in bloom this time of year.

Most days I feel pretty good about where I am in this cancer patient stuff. So many people are struggling so much more than I am. Sometimes the terror hits me. What if I'm fooling myself that I'm OK? Lots of women go through breast cancer twice, even three times. I know it could come back anytime. Could be five or ten years down the road. How much longer do I get?

The truth is, none of us know how much time we have. Could be two years or two days. I have to focus on the right-now or I'll drive myself bonkers. Right now, I feel good. I'll take it and be grateful for it. Smell the roses. Every single day of it. You should too.

Peace~

And now for something completely different...breast cancer

I know this isn’t my usual blog about writing, but sometimes life smacks you up against the head and you have to pay attention. One in eight women will get breast cancer. This year, I became one.

Think about that: one out of eight. If you know eight women, you know someone who’s had or will have breast cancer. Maybe even you. Cancer doesn’t care if you’re young or old, if you eat right and exercise or not. It just happens and no one really knows why.

You’ve probably heard the slogan “early detection is the best protection” and it’s true. The smaller the tumor is when it’s found, the better the result can be if you’re treated right away. I’m not done with my treatment yet. I was only diagnosed in March, but I had surgery immediately and my tumor was very small.

I wish I could tell you I was religiously doing my self-exams, but I wasn’t. My doctor told me to get a mammogram when I was 40, so I did that. It was normal at the time. I do, however, get my yearly gynecological exams. My last one was normal too. The only reason I found my tumor was I happened to wake up one Sunday morning lying on my hand in such a way that I felt a tenderness in my breast. I thought “That’s weird.” I felt around the tender spot and wondered what a lump would feel like. Would it be round like a bead? This didn’t seem to be round, but it did feel like a knot of tissue that was harder than the surrounding area. And it hurt when I pushed on it. I had never noticed it before so I thought I’d watch it that day and see if it changed. It didn’t.

I went to work on Monday thinking I needed to call for an appointment and have it checked. Then I got busy at work and forgot about it. The next day it was still there and I finally called. It would have been an easy thing to ignore for awhile. There was no rash, no weird breast appearance, nothing on the surface. I felt perfectly fine. I was convinced it was nothing. I think the only reason I went in was because I’ve been told all my life, if you find a lump, get it checked! I guess I’ve been well trained.

The nurse practitioner I saw was pretty sure it was normal too, but referred me for a mammogram anyway, thank goodness. It wasn’t normal, which goes to show you, no one knows what’s inside you by only touching the outside. Not even a health care provider.

Since then, I’ve had ultrasounds, MRIs, biopsies, blood tests, and surgery, all in less than two months. Once the result is positive, they don’t mess around. I was potentially facing chemotherapy too, but the doctor decided the size of the tumor was small enough (less than 1 cm) that I can just have radiation treatment for it. After that will be chemo-prevention drugs, to reduce my future risk of a recurrence. I may need to take that for five years or more, which I will gladly do. The drugs reduce future risk by 50%.

I’m not going to lie to you. It’s been a scary couple of months, learning about all this stuff. I’m already sick of getting poked with needles. Waiting for lab results is grueling. Getting bad news is even worse, but not knowing is worse than knowing. All in all, I know am very, very lucky. I found my own tumor. I felt it only because there was a larger area of pre-cancer around it and I don’t have much breast tissue, so it caused the tenderness I was feeling. Women with more tissue may have felt nothing at all and ended up with a much larger tumor. That’s why mammograms, self-exams, and check ups are so important ladies! I know mammograms are uncomfortable and awkward, but all the technicians I’ve had are women. You can handle it, I promise you.

If you’ve got a family history of breast cancer, (aka you have family members with breast cancer), start your yearly mammograms at 35 years old. If you have no family history like I did, you can wait until you’re 40, but start your self-exams right now, today. Women in their 20s and 30s can and do get breast cancer. Men can too, in case you didn’t know. I want you to be healthy and take care of yourself (no smoking), but if you ONLY do one thing, DO your self-exams!! If you’ve never been taught how, check here.

Even though I feel like I dodged a bullet now, breast cancer will be with me for the rest of my life. I have to go through radiation treatment. I’ll be on medication, have mammograms every six months for awhile, and professional breast exams twice yearly. If it returns, I’ll have to have more treatment and surgery. I feel extremely fortunate to have a good job and insurance to pay for all of this because the price of this treatment without insurance is already pretty unbelievable and I’m not even done! I can’t imagine what it must be like for cancer patients with no insurance. My local hospital actually has financial advocates that help patients through the insurance process, set up payment plans and find financial assistance if needed. I can only hope all hospitals are so helpful and that no one ever hesitates to get care if they need it.

Still, even with all that ahead of me, I have a good life and a lot left to do, including a few more books to write. No matter how scary, the treatment is worth it. I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. I intend to fight like a girl and kick cancer’s butt. And if it ever happens to you, I hope you will too.