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.