Positively Negative?

It's hypocritical to write in a blog I purposely titled "positiveforbreastcancer" two years ago when I have not been feeling very positive over the last few months. The honest truth is this recurrence has left me feeling negative just like the triple negative breast cancer that has invaded my lymph nodes and tried to infiltrate my sternum. It is hard to find positivity when I know what I am up against this time around. It has been a much more emotional diagnosis. A much more private one. That is, until I heard from Janet. I haven't seen or spoken to Janet, the super intelligent, friendly, spitfire-of-a-gal who lived across the hall from me at Stony Brook, in about 25 years. Today she made me feel like writing again. Any cancer diagnosis sucks. A cancer recurrence sucks twice as much. It's like you lost the phone-a-friend question in Who Wants To Be A Millionaire and all your lives have been sucked up. You've got to make the decision that you know could cost you. That's about where I am. Allow me to back track a bit. Thanks to God, I've had a successful surgery that removed all the cancer. I am currently undergoing radiation. Next step, Boston's Dana Farber Cancer Institute to hear about why three different doctors there feel three different ways about my chemo treatment. It's one of those situations where chemo will be used to possibly catch any of those nasty microscopic cancer cells that still may be floating around my body waiting to pounce. Key word: possibly. But that is very negative of me . . . or is it? I have always been a realist. Practical. I need to know all angles even if they are sharp. I do believe I am tough. Clearly, God made me this way for a reason. I so foolishly thought all of my prayers every single night since I was first diagnosed went unheard, unanswered. But I am practical and a realist. I know God answers prayers in His own time. He was still trying to teach me something. And thankfully, He has surrounded me with my absolute gold medal support team in every area of my life. Luckily, it is tough to be negative when surrounded by such positivity.

Me, Just Slower

A year ago my muscles didn't work. I wrote about not being able to run 200 yards. A year ago I was winded walking up the stairs. Today I ran 3.2 miles in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. What an invigorating feeling to have come such a long way. Today I felt like I had finally come full circle. That I am back to my old self. Ok, maybe a little slower version of myself. But it still feels great. This is not a cause I will ever abandon. It will continue to be on my mind every single day, no matter how good I feel.

Thank you for supporting me over the last 17 months!

Deja Vu

What a familiar place I've been in over the last week. One day after rejoicing in my one year milestone, I was lying on the doctor's office table having another biopsy. A small lump appeared a couple of months ago. Yes, even after your breast tissue has been removed, you can still get breast cancer. I sat next to a woman during my 3rd chemo treatment who spoke openly about being there for her second go around just months after completing her first. Her story rang in head for the past week as I waited for the results. I timidly watched my videotaped testimony in church Sunday wondering if I was going to let all those people down when they found out I was having a recurrence. I was scared that after sharing with them how God had healed me they would lose faith in Him if they knew I wasn't really healed. That was the worst thought. I prayed for those people. So I waited. And wondered. How will my husband handle this news again? He stoically made it through one bout, how would another weigh on him emotionally? And I waited. How will I explain this to my son, who anytime he hears me talk about cancer will follow up with, "But Mom, you don't have that anymore, right?" Always looking for that reassurance. And I waited. How will my mom and dad carry the guilt and pain that they shoulder and that I am not ready to fake-comfort? My mind has raced through my prayers and anxiety. I have filled my days consuming myself with work and friends and family to fight off the worry and have tossed and turned for five nights.

Finally, tonight I can sleep . . . Benign!

Happy Anniversary

My cancer goody bag is one year old. A friend just said to me, "Well, that is not a happy anniversary." I disagree.

The First Time Is Always Scary, Mom

Standing in the bathroom, primping for work, fiddling with my wig, I realized I did not want to wear it, but was very apprehensive to walk out the door without my security blanket. I have recently been around family and a few friends headgear-free and even made a trip to Target and the mall where no one knew me or cared. But to walk through the doors of work seemed somewhat daunting. I'm still sensitive about this head, even to the point where I wanted to cry sitting at the salon watching my sister and nieces get the cutest haircuts this weekend. I wondered what everybody in that salon thought of MY hair. I know that sounds really self absorbed. But I wondered if people look at me and think, "Aw that poor woman has cancer". Maybe it is because I have gotten away with looking fairly healthy over these past eight months and had successfully shocked most students when news of my wig broke a couple of months ago. Most people forget I am wearing one because it really is an awesome wig. But the best part is that I think it makes most people forget I had cancer. I blend in. Unfortunately this hairstyle puts that scarlet letter back on my chest. Outwardly, it does not look like much. So maybe people look at me and think I'm sick. They return my glances with a sad face or darting eye. With the wig, people don't do that. But, I truly am proud of my new hair. It's symbolic. Inwardly, I am Rapunzel.

So, I was putting on the wig in front of the mirror, taking it off, putting it back on, all while my son stood there watching me. I asked his advice. "What do you think, buddy, can Mom go to work today without her wig? It will be my first time." He said, "The first time is always scary, Mom, but then it's ok. Remember when I went head first on a sled for the first time? I was scared, but I did it and now I'm good. And if anyone laughs at you, just report them to me." I knew he was right. I knew I just had to do it. But even as I got in the car and started driving I felt so naked, so exposed. I took Ethan's advice and went head first into work. It was ok. Nobody laughed. Nobody to report.

Breast Regrets?

Disclaimer: If you don't want to hear about my nipples, stop reading.

My bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction is now about six weeks behind me and I'm not sure I made the right decision. The pain from surgery wasn't as bad as I expected, the fluid draining from my body into mini turkey basters wasn't as bad as I expected and the time out of commission wasn't as bad as I expected, but I don't think I was prepared for the emotional detachment from these new space invaders. I am wondering if these lumpy, stiff blobs of silicone will ever really feel like a part of my body. Should I have chosen to forgo the implants? Some days that answer is "yes". Currently when I look at them, completely lined with scars of this disease and nipple-free, I question my desire to even consider nipples in the future. I don't know if it is because I do not care about them enough to give them nipples, which apparently can be fashioned three different ways depending on what I prefer, or if I just need to move on. I was never a fan of nipples in the first place. They can be a source of irritation and embarrassment at the wrong time. And never did I really find them to be a source of pleasure. I would have rather had someone put his finger in my bellybutton, which irritates me just as much, than to have had my nipples touched! Anyway, I am leaning towards leaving them the way they are. The scars and the lack of nipples reflect the journey. I'd rather be reminded of the journey than reminded of my breasts.

So Long, Old Friends

I think I got lucky with my breasts. I really like them. Even though I always wished they were as big as my sister's, they have served me quite well. In high school, I was flat-chested. I was recently looking at a photo of myself wearing my senior prom dress. It was turquoise with fluffy sleeves and a fitted bodice that did not really fit my bodice. Let's call it "gappy". This was all fine with me because they did not get in the way of running up and down the field hockey field or around the track, two things I was way more concerned with than boobs during those years. I was too skinny anyway and big boobs would have been weird. However, along with college came the dreaded freshman 15! And, luckily for me, most of that weight went straight to my flat chest . . . and my hips. I definitely filled out my slutty "clubbin' clothes" much better. Right, girls? Anyway, they were cute . . . until post pregnancy and I didn't even torture them with breastfeeding. I knew long before I ever had a child that breastfeeding was not something I could ever do . . . way too sensitive . . . and as much as that was frowned upon by society, and seemingly gasped at in the circle of breastfeeding warriors of 2004, I did not succumb to the pressure and my son is pretty healthy and somewhat normal. Now, ironically,those sensitive parts will no longer be a part of me, but replaced by tattoos instead. Again, ironically, something I always wanted, but not exactly the location I had in mind. Anyway, in the past six years my breasts have changed location, but still fill out a sweater or bathing suit fairly well, as long as the suit has some tough underwire. And although I uttered the idea of getting them lifted at some point, that will no longer be needed as I say 'so long' to these friends this evening. Breasts are like snowflakes, right? I mean, no two (or four) look the same, but they are all beautiful . . . beautiful parts on God's creations. I would much prefer the 40-year-old, drooping ones that God gave me now, but that was not part of his plan. So, I will go along with that plan tomorrow and tonight just remember He is in control.