tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51778203511710897622024-03-12T23:00:14.678-05:00...on the cusp...Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.comBlogger300125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-6313526041680700902018-11-26T22:30:00.001-06:002018-11-26T22:34:47.487-06:00Carry that weight<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If I'm writing something these days, it's almost always because I'm having surgery or having an anniversary. That's maybe not the most compelling choice of subjects, and I'll likely stop altogether after this one. But one more time to shed some of these thoughts and share some more of the story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So yep, surgery it is. Still cancer-related, 8 1/2 years out. No recurrence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But first, I want to claim a moment of self-control and accountability. In the last 6 months, I've lost 20 pounds of extra indulgence. The surgery for hysterectomy/oopherectomy put me into instant menopause, and there is no magic hormone replacement that makes your metabolism return to that of a 20-year-old. So I struggled for a couple of years, not wanting to admit that I had to make better choices to get back on track with being in the body I thought I should have. I think there may always be an undercurrent of feeling like my body's going to do what it wants regardless of my choices, but that's not fully true. I can take control of what I can. So I did!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But in these years, I've also had a deep frustration that my recovery had stalled in the land of chronic disease management. I've dealt with lymphedema, chronic pain, and recurring cellulitis. I've had to modify my life in ways big and small.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My almost-daily compression sleeve and glove are symbols, nuisances, ugly, and so many other things. They are hot, uncomfortable, always wearing out, a pain to keep laundering, expensive, and they get in my way regularly (handshakes, gardening, patient care, wearing gloves, cooking, interacting with velcro, washing hands, biking, holding hands, getting sun on my skin, etc., etc.). They keep my arm and hand swelling at a moderate level, but not better than that. Wearing medical garments makes me feel 30 years older than I am.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My arm is a constant reminder that I can't use my body the way I used to. I used to dig holes--I had some nice guns! I used to be strong. I can't carry bags, travel, exercise, write/draw by hand, work like I used to. I carry extra pounds of fluid on one side, making all my joints sore from each finger up to my shoulder. I compensate by using my other side more, and then my whole back, neck and hips are hurting and out of alignment. Ask my massage therapist how messed up my body can be and how quickly it can get there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm grieving and bitching here. I'm happy to have survived and moved on to a great, fortunate life, but every day I carry losses on me, and they are not light.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thursday is surgery to hopefully help with the lymphedema. It will be lymph node transplant (my own from another area), lymphatic bypass to small venules, and possibly arm liposuction and scar tissue loosening. It could have a little improvement, it could have a lot. It will likely take months to find out the full extent of change. "Cautiously optimistic" is my go-to outlook.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don't know what to do with that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don't know what to do if it doesn't really help, and I don't know how to be if it <i>does</i> really help. I'm going to be really thrown more out of balance for a while, and it's going to take hard work to even out again. The heaviness perched on my right will not just fly away. But "cautiously optimistic"...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">P.S. My effed-up other burden: I feel guilty. Our healthcare system is so <i>wrong</i> that I feel guilty for taking resources to address my lymphedema. I feel responsible for my coworkers' premiums going up. I feel responsible for people that don't get coverage, don't get appointments when they need them, aren't offered these treatments because of healthcare disparities by race and income. It's awful. How f%@ked is that?! This is a fraction of what people have to weigh out because we still treat healthcare as a privilege instead of a right.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That's what I'm sitting with, waiting for Thursday. Thanks for reading another round.</span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-53069037874849804472018-06-25T22:12:00.001-05:002018-06-25T22:12:54.511-05:00Eight sideways<br />
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<br />
Eight years seems like a strange amount of time all of a sudden--both long and not long enough.<br />
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I sit here in a home inhabited by 2 eight-year-olds, and I think how many chapters in my life and theirs have been written in 8 years. It's a lot.<br />
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This cancerversary finds me in a very different place than I was last year, literally and figuratively. In the last year, I went from being on my own with Olive to moving into a home with Barry and his son. It's a new home and a new experience for all of us. We're here. We're settled in but still settling in, blending our styles and habits and stuff and getting the kids to get used to the compromises that come with more people. <br />
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Selling the house where so many giant things happened in 11 years of my life was an enormous process. I don't even know if I can put words to it now, but there was a lot of joy and hope and grief and heartbreak in those rooms. It was heavier than I was ready for, and I just needed to be done with it. That's where I'll leave it.<br />
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Barry and I are 3 1/2 years into this relationship, and I think it's helping us figure out a lot of new ways of seeing ourselves and each other. I feel like I came into this relationship with my true self pretty exposed, no modulating my persona to be what I thought my partner wanted or needed. I say to him what I need to say when I need to say it. It's nurturing and supportive and reconnecting in a way that is very private--I don't always know if other people hear too much about Barry and me because I do hold it close to the vest. I guess I'm cautious about professing to have too much certainty about what the future holds. I think I have good cause in that. But it doesn't mean it's any less fulfilling for me.<br />
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The kids, too, are a constant force to keep moving ahead with life. Single parent time was hard. Blending is hard, but when it's all clicking and everyone's having fun and enjoying the moment, it's pretty cool. <br />
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And I can say all this and focus on all this because I'm in such a different place. The regular dread about a cancer recurrence is not part of my daily life. Getting my oopherectomy really changed the feeling entirely and reassures me I've done all I can to stay well. I am mentally through the hardest parts. For now. There is always the unknown, but it's not going to define how I view my life at this time. <br />
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At one point, I thought I was going to know when I reached my new normal after cancer. This may be as close a time as any, but I don't think I want that anymore--with it can come a complacency. I had a weird moment today in the grocery store parking lot. I don't know if you'll agree with me, but the grocery store parking lot is where some peak obliviousness was on display today. It was just the little things, how people can move in the world with little acknowledgement of all the other humans around them. Walking (slowly, and eating) without looking up while others wait. Pulling out without paying attention to what's around them. It makes those interactions cold and thoughtless when sometimes people need you to look up and give them clear attention. <br />
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I realized that I was in a little period like that and that I needed to get clear and attentive. I remember how incredibly heightened daily interactions were to me 8 years ago. Everything felt threatened, everything felt precious, and I just wanted to meet head-on with the humanity in others because I needed it so desperately to get through the hardest of the time. Then I feel like I withdrew a little into my cocoon to rebuild myself. I got overwhelmed for a while. Now I am trying to emerge and get back to that vital connection to the world around me. I don't want to need something like cancer to make me stop, be attentive, be appreciative, and be clear.<br />
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I am so lucky. I appreciate that times infinity.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-32997701812548981892016-10-23T14:29:00.001-05:002016-10-23T14:53:14.307-05:00Look me in the eye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Each of these last years, when October comes around, I haven't known quite what to do with it. One year I went on a decent rant about Pinktober and awareness--I don't feel the need to do that this year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">I do, however, feel like each October I need to think about what it means to support the other people who have gone through cancer. I want to be sure I am maintaining some integrity in how I live my life so that I'm not undermining these same people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">So here's what I feel the need to do this year: get a little political. (This is where some of you groan, roll you eyes, and close the post. Thanks and goodbye for now--I understand.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">There's a lot to really dislike about this year's political season, and I don't think it has brought out the best in many people. I could go on and on about various political issues for hours, and with some friends I do, but I don't want to get lost in the weeds here. It's easy to get cynical and think that ultimately not much changes and there's not much that the average American gets out of it. Now I don't buy that kind of cynicism, I know that elections DO matter and take our country in very different directions, I know that every politician isn't the same. Our system of government is sooooo complex, and there is no way to boil it down to a slogan or a single-issue for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">But I do want to focus on one issue that is very political and for me, very personal: healthcare. For me, how we view healthcare is very representative overall of how we treat each other as a society. It also matters to me because it is my chosen profession. But I am bringing it up in October to remind everyone of how it ties to how we treat our breast cancer survivors.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">It is an extremely easy catch phrase to throw out "repeal Obamacare" and call it a "disaster". Yes, it is easy to say that healthcare costs have not come down yet and that the program hasn't always hit its goals. But please, when you vote for people wanting to take away the ACA (Affordable Care Act) programs and have no ready replacement plan, <em>please</em> think about what that means for those of us with cancer in our present or history. Please think about what you'd take away from me. Yes, me specifically, and many of my friends and family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Look me in the eye when you say you want to get rid of the protection from denying insurance coverage for pre-existing conditions. Tell me that I should have to face insurance premiums that I can't afford because of my pre-existing condition if I ever lose or want to leave my job. Remember, I was diagnosed at 34, and diagnosis certainly happens younger than that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Look me in the eye when you want to get rid of annual and lifetime benefit maximums. Look me in the eye when you vote to get rid of protection from rescinding insurance coverage in the middle of a diagnosis. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Look me in the eye and tell me that routine check-ups and screenings shouldn't be guaranteed coverage for me or for Olive. Look me in the eye and tell me that if Olive inherited my BRCA1 mutation, that she shouldn't have protections against paying astronomically more for insurance for her lifetime.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Again, the ACA isn't perfect by any means; we have a lot of improving to do. But when you vote for people who want to get rid of the protections that came with the ACA, you are potentially taking those protections away from me, and I take that personally. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">It's one thing to support breast cancer awareness and breast cancer survivors, and I know so many of you do that (and I am grateful). It's another thing to be consistent in the policies and the politicians we support. I'm not just talking about the presidency--there is a lot more at stake for healthcare with the senators and representatives we send to Congress. There is a lot more at stake in how we choose state senators and reps who decide how state programs supporting low-income residents and children are run. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">These are real policies with real impacts in the cancer community, low-income communities, and our community as a whole.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">This is a very simplified version of how the ACA impacts cancer patients from the American Cancer Society, but it helps me to see it written out: <a href="http://www.cancer.org/acs/groups/content/@editorial/documents/document/acspc-026864.pdf">http://www.cancer.org/acs/groups/content/@editorial/documents/document/acspc-026864.pdf</a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">And a summary from breastcancer.org:</span><br />
<a href="http://community.breastcancer.org/blog/the-aca-and-breast-cancer-some-good-news-for-diagnosed-women/">http://community.breastcancer.org/blog/the-aca-and-breast-cancer-some-good-news-for-diagnosed-women/</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I know this is just one piece of a complicated puzzle of who we vote for and why. I know we don't always have candidate choices that reflect every one of our values. <em><u>Just remember how much it matters</u></em> for the day-to-day lives of people, and vote with conscience, conviction, clarity, and integrity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Thanks.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcEkbMJCUqoKhl40pbxp4m9Sf-xpDh9XXCifzuFh80nrVqG1EdQrcy_UpCyGy5UQncxrmLLQjZ7qIMck5G54fd_6gL63Pjzu-e57BIY4sUHZmnju97_cg0srZtHINK5GzGyqu4XWDlgHSz/s1600/f74741_e667fa9c81374415811e4c1d3552b495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcEkbMJCUqoKhl40pbxp4m9Sf-xpDh9XXCifzuFh80nrVqG1EdQrcy_UpCyGy5UQncxrmLLQjZ7qIMck5G54fd_6gL63Pjzu-e57BIY4sUHZmnju97_cg0srZtHINK5GzGyqu4XWDlgHSz/s200/f74741_e667fa9c81374415811e4c1d3552b495.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artery Ink: Mara Natkin & Gloria Ramirez</td></tr>
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Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-36402385803496331552016-06-25T19:03:00.001-05:002016-06-25T19:03:14.106-05:00Six<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Six year cancerversary</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was certainly another year of change, another year of dealing with the aftermath of my diagnosis. But then life is all about taking the outcomes of what came before and making the next step, isn't it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm doing well, I think. Not 100%, not where I want to be, but well. 6 years ago, before my diagnosis phone call, I was planning a life with my husband and my baby and had no idea this was what it would look like in 6 years. I've had a lot taken out of me, in every sense of that statement. I've spent the last years trying to fill it back up--in fits and starts, and not always with the best things for me. I've had years of pain and fear back me into a corner in my own body, and chunks removed. Now I'm trying to expand myself to re-inhabit my own space. I don't always know what to do with that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was trying to think of a metaphor, a theme, a...something for this year's milestone. I'm not good at coming up with metaphors. I started out thinking about the last six years in parallel to my beautiful six year old and thinking about our growth together through this, but it was a stretch so I gave up on that. Olive is Olive, and barely 6 anymore, and on a totally separate trajectory from where I've been the last 6 years. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I was out in my garden.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are a lot of metaphorical things one can say about gardening and growing things and weeding and so forth. I'm going to take this a little more literally, though, and it'll all come out in the wash. My garden has been the perfect mirror of where I've been in the last years, especially the last 4 on my own. The garden was not my baby, my passion, my idea, but I was left with it and had to figure out what to do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How these last 4 seasons have been have mirrored a lot. I tried hard to go all out in the beginning, trying to make it a f@$* you statement that I could do the same thing and didn't need help. Then I took some help. Then it got away from me again and I didn't have the energy to match my original bluster. Then I accepted whatever I could get out of it, and let nature take over the rest. Last year, I had intentions but did nothing with it for months, until finally I accepted help to just cover it up and minimize the weeds. This year, we'll see. I planted, I'm sorta keeping up so far but not stressing about it, and I'm getting some results. But not everything sprouts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And something keeps nibbling down my peas--I don't think I want to make that a metaphor for anything, though. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And some years, some moments, some magic happens. I get to eat some good things and feed them to Olive. I get Julie to teach me that the purslane that has taken over my beds is actually delicious and good for you. I get Barry and Olive to meticulously weed at the start of this season. I get blueberries coming after years of nothing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah, the effing mint won't go away despite my best efforts. Yeah, my strawberries were super happy, but the animals got every single one before me. Yeah, I've got a lot of weeds again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You know what's been a constant, though. The raspberries. They're easy to maintain with a little pruning and have never let me down. They bring me and Olive a lot of joy and deliciousness, and I get to share them. I get behind in picking and the bugs wind up getting a share, but that's life. That's why there's an abundance. And they're there even when I'm not putting in my best effort. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for being my raspberries, guys.</span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-28688222898810337112016-03-25T18:15:00.000-05:002016-03-25T18:15:31.019-05:00ResultsI did leave you hanging a little--I got a message yesterday that all my pathology from everything that they removed was clear. Clear. As in no little itty bitty cancers, no precancerous cells. So there's a sigh of relief. I missed the phone call, and as I went to listen to the voicemail message, my hands were shaking--I was successful at putting it out of my mind until that moment, and I have no idea what I would have done had it not been fine. Well, maybe I have an idea, but I didn't want to create that Plan B until I had to. Again, I have a lot of processing to do to know what "all clear" means to me.<br />
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There's something I've been meaning to say to y'all, but I don't know if I can phrase it quite the right way. After my last couple of posts, I get comments and feedback, all very loving and supportive. Thank you so much for that. There was part of me that was having a gut reaction to some of that; specifically the comments that talk about me being an "inspiration" or "brave." I was ready to reject that because it's uncomfortable. <br />
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What I did when I got my cancer diagnosis was what anyone facing a hard situation does: find a way to get through it. It's such a selfish focus, and there's nothing about it that felt heroic in any way. It's pure, basic survival instinct--I did not save anyone or help anyone else with my journey, and I asked a lot of those around me to get through it. And I blabbed about it and overshared here, and again there's a very selfish instinct behind it--to be recognized and be loved by others. Getting comments and feedback and people to read my stuff and "likes" was all a very me-focused thing and I was not above it. Still not, apparently!<br />
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So when people used those words in the feedback, there is a part of me that balks at that because I know my own insecure motives behind it. I would feel guilty for not saying something about it. And there is also the feeling out there in the survivor community that it becomes almost a novelty or fetish to make so much of survivor status when a lot of us don't feel worthy of always wearing that badge. Some of it, I think, is the unease we will always carry with us that we are never out of the woods; some of it, I think, is feeling like it's a weird thing for which to get recognition.<br />
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But then...there's a part of me that had to say that I don't get to define what makes people feel inspired or how they define bravery. I have to feel comfortable with just feeling honored any time somebody associates me with that, that it stokes something in them. I have to hope they are as generous with words like that to other people in their life. Knowing the awesome people in my sphere, I am assured that you sprinkle it around generously. But I'm going to say it anyway: use it liberally. Tell other people when they make you feel inspired or embolden you to do something--it may mean more to them than you ever may know. <br />
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And I guess sharing of yourself and your experience can be meaningful to others, too. It helps create a sense that we are in it together. This may be more than a sophomoric creative writing exercise after all, if other people get something along the way. So I'll close today with Fred, and another thank you.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3c3c3c; font-family: "open sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 25.2px;">Fred Rogers (also known as Mister Rogers), once said, “Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.” </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #3c3c3c; line-height: 25.2px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thank you.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3c3c3c; font-family: "open sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 25.2px;"><br /></span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-66280409177111200112016-03-21T16:00:00.003-05:002016-03-21T16:00:49.308-05:00Recovery4 days out from surgery and feeling...pretty good overall. It has been a steady progression for the past days. Thursday was a blur of nausea and pain and coming out of anesthesia. Friday was pain--interesting short-lived-but-horrible pain--and getting ready to go home. Saturday through today have been steady improvements, and each of those days I've had a little outing to start moving again.<br />
<br />
I guess I never fully gave the details of what I had done and how I got to this place. My surgery on Thursday was a BSO & total hysterectomy--that means both ovaries and fallopian tubes out, plus uterus/cervix. The ovaries and tubes was related directly to ovarian cancer risk reduction with my BRCA1 mutation. Again, my risk of ovarian cancer based on my family history and mutation increased dramatically at age 40, with a 40-60% lifetime risk. I had been screened every 6 months for it since my breast cancer, but the tests (CA-125 blood test and ultrasound) are known to be not adequate for catching ovarian cancer in many cases. Even with the every-6-mo time frame, you can be clear at one appt and have stage 3 or 4 ovarian CA at the next. Not super comforting.<br />
<br />
I had about 5 1/2 yrs of that screening timeline, and obviously all clear so far. But my last appt in November put me on edge, and I realized I didn't want to feel that way again. I had some irregular bleeding and bloating for the couple of months leading up to the appt, and they did a uterine biopsy and pap in addition to the regular tests. More test, more waiting, more nervousness--all clear, but in that time I realized that if I went into my next 6-mo screening and did find cancer, I would be unrelenting on myself knowing my risks and not acting. I would have maybe made different choices at a different place in my life, but I can't pretend it's only about me when Olive's involved.<br />
<br />
So, on with it. Out with the ovaries and tubes. Why the uterus, too? Well, we've had a complicated history. I've had sizable fibroids that were a factor in my pregnancy and have caused be severe pain in the past, and keeping my uterus and cervix would have kept some other areas of increased cancer risk with my risk factors and made hormone replacement more complicated. So out with it, too.<br />
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I have started hormone replacement, which sounds like a big no-no when you think about breast cancer and the studies over the last decades. Funny enough, though, that my cancer type (triple negative) is the one where they do consider HRT because my original cancer didn't feed on estrogen or progesterone. So they okayed it, and I am jumping on it. Not just because hot flashes and low libido sound not fun--because there are significant impacts to bone health, heart health, and early-onset dementia with early menopause. Sudden, surgical menopause is a big cliff to jump off for my body, so I'm trying to make it more of a gentle slope.<br />
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Okay, I'm done fem-splaining to you about that. Anyway, I'm recovering well, watching some Netflix, getting food deliveries from family and friends, napping a lot. Not a whole lot of emotion on the other side of it. Yet. We'll see.<br />
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Thank you again, for all of you pitching in and checking in and sending love. I'll keep you posted.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-16400762687084143352016-03-12T00:31:00.001-06:002016-03-12T10:39:37.599-06:00Routine<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our huggable mascot</td></tr>
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Let me start by saying thank you. If I haven't been clear, the amount of love and support and patience and empathy I've received is way out of proportion from what I'm having done. I'm always conflicted about dragging you into this while I'm incredibly grateful that you're there. You people are all just the best. If I ever take that for granted, call me out on such bullshit.<br />
<br />
So we're less than a week out from a routine surgery. There is some comfort in that word and that thought. A dime a dozen. So many happen every day, and they've figured them out pretty well by now. Yes, I'm happy to have a surgeon that has performed hundreds of BSO/total hysterectomies.<br />
<br />
But it's hard to go into something like this thinking that there is nothing unique that will stand out about you when you're lying on the table. This decision seems obvious to any gynecological oncologist, and I know that. It's anything but routine for me, however. I don't know how I feel I need that acknowledged to my satisfaction--it's just going to be there.<br />
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There will never be a time that I feel I should have had to settle for removing parts because there are no better answers to reduce my risk. I am removing my female identity piece by piece, and there is a level of loss in that that is about much more than not having the parts themselves. Yes, I can make light about never having to wear a bra and never having to deal with another period again--they can be pros of this whole process. But it has taken a lot and will continue to take a lot to find my own femininity and confidence as I go forward. This particular surgery hits me as a loss of youth, too--I am coming out of childbearing years and into menopause in a day. This feels like a much bigger leap than I want it to, and I wish I had a sense of where I'd come out on the other side. <br />
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I'm sad, I'm mad. I'm raging and I'm mourning and a little scared. When I feel that way, I just want to rush through it because it's so uncomfortable. So that's exactly what you'll find me doing in the next days--rushing around. Just let me and give me space to. Yes, I'm stressed out. Those of you watching and wanting to help, know that nobody has to figure that out for me or try to make me stop--this is <i>my </i>routine to work through the hard stuff.<br />
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In the grand scheme of things, this isn't a big deal. Hopefully I will integrate that into where I'm at and move on, because the rest of where I'm at is good. Goodnight, village. Thanks again for letting me live in it and take what you offer to help me move forward.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-44270435076170254232016-03-03T22:50:00.002-06:002016-03-03T23:00:55.241-06:00ReliefThis is an interesting concept when it comes to me and cancer, to having this surgery. The whole idea is risk-reduction, is taking me from having a 40-60% lifetime ovarian cancer risk to none. Sounds like it should bring relief, right? And I'm trying to think I'll get there.<br />
<br />
But let me back up a few days first. A little interesting exercise came up starting over the weekend, and it was way too relevant to this discussion. Olive and I went out of town for the weekend, and it involved driving about 4 hours. Done it hundreds of times, but this time freaked me out. I had some vision and spacial-perception changes as I was driving that made me feel unsafe. (Yes, I was cautious and we made it safely, but I couldn't do the full drive in one night.) It continues on, and I've had pressure around my right eye and sinus area, too. Easy enough to say it's likely a sinus infection or maybe I need my eyes checked, but...<br />
<br />
But then back home Sunday night, I was feeling it and thinking about it and freaked myself out. I was up past 3am, and I can't think of the last time something's kept me awake. <br />
Brainmetsbrainmetsbrainmets.<br />
And then I tried to reason with myself the next morning and talk myself out of it, but there's a part of me that can't disregard the possibility. And then I paint the picture for someone to get a second opinion, and they aren't talking me out of taking it seriously. And then I send a message to my oncologist electronically and she <u>calls</u> back. Pretty quickly. And, with the disclaimer that it's probably nothing, she wants to schedule a head MRI.<br />
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Had it yesterday. Results are all normal--it was nothing. Phew.<br />
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I want to feel like this surgery and all the changes it will precipitate will ultimately bring a sense of relief, despite the changes that come with it. I have a lot of conversations with myself wondering when I'm ever going to start feeling like my life is a little more long-term. I'm trying to conceptualize what it would be like to live into my 70s, or 80s, or 90s. I don't know that I've ever thought in terms of growing into old age. Not even into my 60s. <br />
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That bothers me. Believe me, I do feel there is a lot to be gained by living in the present, but life also necessitates planning ahead and anticipating what may come. And I'm happy with Olive and my boyfriend and want to plan for a future. I want to figure out what I'd want that to look like. I really want this surgery to feel like it has a tangible benefit, and I'm worried that things like this week are going to drag me back into this present survival mode when I'd rather leave it behind me. It makes me feel weird and fatalistic and dramatic when things like this come up, and I don't know who to bring into my bubble of worry and when. <br />
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I also have a week of waiting post-surgery to see if the pathology shows anything in what they remove. I'm still bracing myself for having to go down the road of a new cancer for now. Dammit. You can think it's not likely, and I agree, but neither was my first cancer. I want to walk out of the hospital in 2 weeks leaving all the cancer worry behind me. I'm hoping it will be much better, but I wish it was more magical than that. It's something to keep carrying.<br />
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Maybe it'll feel a little lighter, though.<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-30220366207850173862016-02-17T22:21:00.000-06:002016-02-17T22:21:00.186-06:00Clearance<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">...or, Everything Must Go</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm restarting the conversation for a little bit while not really expecting anyone to pay close attention. I have another round of dealing with this coming up. Not more cancer itself, but what I have to do to get some risk reduction and deal with the implications of the BRCA1 mutation. Despite being over 5 years out from diagnosis, this is part of the ongoing reality.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One month from today, St. Patty's Day, I'll be having surgery to get rid of my other looming risk, the ovaries. For those of you who don't recall, the BRCA1 mutation comes with about a 40-60% lifetime risk of ovarian cancer along with the breast cancer (and others). Let's just call it a 50/50 shot for the sake of ease. I'll actually be having a hysterectomy along with it, too, for a variety of reasons. Having a hysterectomy/oophorectomy is very routine, and it feels weird to share it with you in many ways. Especially weird because people don't tend to share much about their reproductive bits voluntarily ("Attention all: This is the day that I will enter menopause! Thank you."), and also because it does sound rather mundane. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wish I could tell you it feels mundane and routine. I wish I could tell you that it doesn't bring up a whole lot of feelings and issues similar to the cancer itself. It seems very petty to make a big deal out of it at this point. There will be a part of me that is going to keep feeling that way. But here I go spilling my thoughts again. The biggest themes will be relief and loss...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I'm just putting it out there for starters. I'll be out of commission for 3-4 weeks. I have good support and lots of people pulling together to offer help. Hell, I may be the only person I've known that gets a theme party brunch thrown for it--like a reverse baby shower. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'll spill some thoughts along the way when things well up inside me and need to have an outlet. Thanks, guys.</span><br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-51109975508363373972015-06-25T22:05:00.001-05:002015-06-25T22:05:54.577-05:005 years, 2 sides of the same coinThe dark and the light.<br />
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5 years. 5 years! This is an easy cancerversary for me in many ways, and this is a hard one. Easy, because I'm here without a cancer recurrence. This is even when they start to use words like "cured". Hard, because being 5 years out does not give me a sense of security. This post is going to be about both the dark side and the light. I want to go to the uncomfortable places that I went in my mind, even if I never said it. Then I'll bring up the mood a notch...<br />
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I have to confess, there were times in the course of treatment where I thought that I couldn't do it anymore and I was okay with dying. You get to a place where you think you feel the absolute shittiest you could ever feel in life, and you still get worse. You can't stop your body from revolting, and you can't stop your brain from profound overwhelm and fatigue. It is demoralizing, and to think about putting my loved ones through it for a year or through multiple rounds was unbearable.<br />
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Cancer involves cheerleading, and it's a necessary coping mechanism for a bad part of someone's life. I needed my boosts of cheer and got them--I needed help to convince myself I could make it through the treatment. But when all the noise died down and I was awake in the middle of the night because of pain or nausea or a hot flash or just thinking, I needed to go to the places without the positivity. I needed to confront what I was facing. And then I woke up the next day and kept going. (This is not fishing for recognition, though; there are people struggling in so many ways every day, and they keep going, too.)<br />
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Cheer-lead for those going through it, but do them a favor. Realize that every day of this they are facing a horrible path and yet keep moving ahead because they are making a hard, conscious choice to do it. Truly acknowledge that crazy humanity. Make your cheering be about the depth of their spirit in the face of it, not hollow platitudes.<br />
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My light side was that I did have people cheering for me like that. <br />
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I've said many times before that when people say their cancer is a "gift", I kinda want to punch them. But I think I've gotten past the language. It's not the <u>cancer</u> that's the gift. It's the <u>love</u>.<br />
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It's the love. It's the love that comes from a true place in others because they want to be good. It's the love that comes with no expectations attached, just the want of good for others. It's this loving tribe of people that I got to gather and that I still surround myself (and Olive) with. Near, far, in person, digital; this group of supremely human humans, this island of misfit toys that knows how to live by the golden rule. <br />
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I hope it doesn't take a cancer diagnosis to open people up to see and feel that kind of love. I don't think it would've for me--really, I could've done without, thanks. But it certainly magnified it and mobilized it in an amazing way. It is an endless source of perspective, even on the days when I swear at traffic and hate long lines. I am still overwhelmed by the beauty in that humanity, and my gratitude still only grows for you.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-88585039242997398862014-06-25T22:31:00.001-05:002014-06-25T22:40:34.660-05:00Cancerversary #4: Stop & savorFour years. Goes by in a flash, even in some ways it seems like yesterday, sitting in my new office (just transferred to a new position at work) on a Friday afternoon. Got the call from the Breast Center NP and she gave me the results over the phone, invasive ductal carcinoma. I still have the piece of paper upon which I wrote it.<br />
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My goal when I started the long year of treatment was to buy enough time to see Olive go off to kindergarten. I may cry like a baby tomorrow at her 4-K Graduation. Or I may save the crying for tomorrow night when I have some alone time...<br />
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Last year, I did a lot (3 long posts worth!) of reflection, and I am certainly not doing 4 this year. Last year was full of reflection necessitated once again by Big Life Change. I had to shift entirely, realign my compass, and ask myself what I truly want. I don't know if I'll ever successfully answer that, but I do know that I feel a lot more ownership of my life than I have the last 4 years. The lease on life was up, so I went in and purchased it instead. Corny metaphor-I'm making myself groan--but I think that's what this last year did for me. <br />
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I haven't set the next goal yet. Unfortunately, it looks like it will be more mundane things like getting the roof replaced and thinking about upgrading my car.<br />
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Actually, I guess that's not true. I was thinking about it earlier today, and I kept feeling disbelief that another year had happened so quickly. So the short-term goal is... SLOW DOWN. I was so focused on rushing to a point where I would maybe feel okay--I just wanted to get there, wherever it was. I have been in a frenzy of seeing people every spare day I've had and wanting to spend time with the people who have brought me support and love and joy in this process. So. Much. Love.<br />
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And this is my goal:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not holding back when it comes to Miss O</td></tr>
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I don't know what else to say about this year, except more of them are good and I am lucky to have them. Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-54369746502030944672013-10-13T18:34:00.002-05:002013-10-13T18:34:49.424-05:00Pinktober: The RantI have built up a good head of steam on this a few times now, then talked myself down. But I was also impressed with people <u>wanting</u> a rant and more about October madness, so here goes nothing.<br />
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October! My god, what a lovely month! Especially this year, so far. Still sunny and warm-ish days, leaves turning, apples, pumpkins, squash, bonfires, sweatshirts/sweaters, Oktoberfests, Halloween, Packers every week... Got to be one of the best times of the year. Full of so many colors! Still plenty of green, and then come the yellows, oranges, reds, browns...<br />
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And then there's pink. Now I need to start with a few disclaimers. I am not down on anyone having pink as a favorite color. I live in a house where someone decided that her favorite color had to change from red to pink when she turned 4. (She's very committed to it, but she has also committed to her favorite color becoming purple when she turns 5.) I even own one pink shirt and one pink skirt. There, I said it. <br />
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<b>Another disclaimer, and this is important: I do not begrudge ANYONE from supporting breast cancer fundraisers when they want to. </b>There are some that are very touching and very effective. It is great to support the cause. I will not think less of you if you wear pink or buy something with a pink ribbon on it or what have you--I will not think you are being duped or are being offensive to me. I do NOT want to make you feel defensive of your choices. It's okay! And I<i> like</i> that you want to do something about it.<br />
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So what's my beef? I'm going to start with the concept of <u>awareness</u>.<br />
<br />
Breast cancer is not good, and it happens. Believe me, I'M AWARE. There are a lot of interesting concepts wrapped up in that word...<br />
<br />
For me, awareness began as a child. When I was still pretty young, I knew that my grandma was sick from cancer and treatment, then it came back and she died from really both breast and ovarian cancer. It has affected 3 aunts on one side, 2 aunts on the other, my other grandma, my mom, and me. In addition to the death of my grandma, I have lost my mom and 2 aunts from it. Now parts of my family have the next generation of genetic risk to deal with. <br />
<br />
The weirder concept to me was that there are families that really don't have cancer saturating them. Seriously some families without really <i>any</i>. So for me that is foreign territory, coming from a place where somewhere in my brain it was not a matter of <i>if</i>, but <i>when</i>. That's not fatalistic in my brain, either--that's the reality (especially when the genetic risks became clearer). If I was going to get a disease, I expected it to be cancer.<br />
<br />
That's me, but I would challenge you all to try to think of any person you know that isn't <u>aware</u> of breast cancer. I would take it a step further and ask if you don't think that most people know that early detection is better than late and that appropriate screening is good. But for a lot of awareness campaigns, this is where it stops. That is something, but for me that is not good enough. Breast cancer exists--check! Sometimes you can detect it at a stage when it can be treated very effectively and survival rates are good, and that's great--check!<br />
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Okay, but what causes it? Really, what? Why has the lifetime risk of developing breast cancer for women <i>increased</i> over the past few decades and not <i>decreased</i>? Why do 20-30% of people diagnosed in <i>early</i> stages still go on to develop metastatic cancer? Why does the number of deaths from metastatic cancer stay the same (roughly 40,000 in the US) each year? Pink ribbon culture and awareness have exploded!, and yet here we are. <br />
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Broaden it out. Other cancers. Again, why is there not the targeted, splashy campaign for every cancer? Broaden it out again and substitute any other disease or chronic illness--MS, autism, mental illness, etc. They'd love to have the level of awareness and PR of the pink machine, too. But then what? We're still here without a cure or prevention for the popular one, so good luck with that... (Sorry, my cynicism is building as I go.)<br />
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Okay, yes, there have been advances. Absolutely. And for some breast cancer patients, they have made a huge difference. And for some previvors with the known genetic risk, it has meant having the information to take actions to hopefully drastically reduce of actually getting cancer now that there are tests that can give that genetic information. <b>(Psst! By the by, the push to keep breast cancer and other genes from getting patented by bringing the case to the Supreme Court this year was NOT funded and supported by the major cancer organizations. They were surprisingly quiet.)</b><br />
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I think you get the picture. Let me switch gears a little then and talk about the part where October becomes offensive. Yes, <u>offensive</u>.<br />
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(What am I supposed to do to save pink owls?!)</div>
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And then there's...<br />
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src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" 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At least some of the upper ones donated money to something. But how is going without a bra going to help fight breast cancer? How does it raise money to fight cancer--by charging for every leer? How does it raise awareness? Believe me, <u>everyone is aware that boobs exist</u>. (And by the way, there was already a no bra day that had nothing to do with Oct or breast cancer. AND DON'T CHOOSE THE ONE AND ONLY METASTATIC BREAST CANCER DAY FOR YOUR STUPID CAMPAIGN!) </div>
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<i>How do you think these make me feel</i>? I fought my best, but I didn't save my breasts in the process. Fail? Because that's what's implied. That those were the parts I should have fought the hardest to save. That in not saving my breasts, I didn't save what gave me beauty and worth. Want to know what my risk developing another breast cancer would have been had I kept my breasts? Still ridiculous. But would that have been a better success story for a while (until recurrence, because- fail!) because I kept my parts? Am I less of a success story because of my choices to remove my breasts and not make fake ones to keep up the image? </div>
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And really, you think there isn't a day that goes by that I wouldn't want my old ones back (minus the potential to kill me)? I don't need to see nipples or talk about tits to remember that I want breast cancer to go away.</div>
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Don't get me wrong. I have a sense of humor, and I know tongue-in-cheek when I see it. And I really don't take it as hard as I am implying here--REALLY. I'm just emphasizing the point. But believe me, there <i>are</i> women that take it that hard. I see messages and posts from women, I see them stating the harsh words that have come back to them because of their choices, I see the rejection they have faced. Not cool.</div>
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Yes, the slogans are catchy. Maybe there's some value to shock value. But it would be just as easy to make it about fighting to save the people, their worth, their beauty regardless of what the disease takes from them. It would be just as easy to include more people that don't fit the mold of the perky survivor that had just a splash of the chemo, wore some crazy hats and wigs, and got a boob job out of it! And maybe a tummy tuck with reconstruction! And then finish a triathlon! Awesome! You go, girl!</div>
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Along with the slogans and campaigns, however, there is still the message that good survivors don't complain. That good survivors have boobs as close to normal as possible and don't look sick. That good survivors don't deal with lifelong chronic illness and side effects because of the treatment. That good survivors aren't dying. </div>
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So anyway, pay attention to how the message comes across, too.</div>
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Listen, pink if you want to pink. Make it worthwhile and feel good about it. But be informed. Be aware when there are conflicts of interest (like pink ribbon alcohol and fried chicken! or guns!). Be aware when there are vague claims of "supporting breast cancer" without specifics, when there are caps on how much campaigns will donate. Know your organizations. Here's a nice link that just popped up today of some good ones:</div>
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<a href="http://www.thebreastcaresite.com/tbcs/Renewal/EmotionalRecovery/In+-+Or+Out+-+of+the+Pink.htm">http://www.thebreastcaresite.com/tbcs/Renewal/EmotionalRecovery/In+-+Or+Out+-+of+the+Pink.htm</a> </div>
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And the link of the blog page I already shared with some of you of a woman more articulate than I:</div>
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<a href="http://cancerinmythirties.wordpress.com/2012/10/13/national-no-bra-day-and-breast-cancer-awareness-month-or-please-put-that-pink-can-of-soup-down-put-your-bra-back-on/">http://cancerinmythirties.wordpress.com/2012/10/13/national-no-bra-day-and-breast-cancer-awareness-month-or-please-put-that-pink-can-of-soup-down-put-your-bra-back-on/</a> </div>
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I love you, and I want you in the fight. Thank you for standing beside me. </div>
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Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-29563375631935075612013-06-27T16:10:00.000-05:002013-06-27T16:29:32.601-05:003 years--Spirit(Welcome to the 3-year anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis. In honor of 3 years, I am writing 3 posts, having to do with what is often considered the 3 parts of the "whole" person--body, mind, and spirit.)<br />
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These past 3 years have been full of the stuff of living. So that's a loaded statement ;). But the thing I keep telling myself through the rougher portions is that <i>something</i> is trying to insure that I don't live a superficial life. Sometimes that's a bitter pill to swallow, but there's something about it that is awesome, too. I am of the school of thought that the value and worth of life comes from sharing it, from interacting with the people and world around you rather than being an observer. I have never been one to understand how some people create beautiful, amazing things and decide not to share them with anyone. Or how people never dive in to trying things and making connections with others. I don't know what kind of spirit I'd truly have left if it wasn't for that.<br />
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Now, granted, there are some times I could benefit from stopping the "doing" and take the role observing and taking in what's around me. And I do that and try to focus on moments in my day to just take it all in. But then I want to get back to the meat of it, the interaction with others. People are fascinating. People are messy. People want to do good. That's the best part of this whole experience--the people. I have gotten the opportunity to give and receive love from a whole host of family and friends. Sometimes the receiving part of that is harder than the giving, but that is something I am trying to get better at every day.<br />
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And so much of this is about trying to learn what I can from life to pass that on to Olive. Not that she won't have to learn many of the same lessons for herself no matter what I do. But maybe, from time to time, she'll take a break from thinking I'm lame and don't get it and couldn't possibly understand her life to realize that, because I love her so much, I could face anything and fight for what I needed to keep going. And hopefully she'll realize that with so much love coming to her from so many, she can face anything, too. Even boys and mean girls and all that stuff.<br />
<br />
I have to take a detour here, and it will be an uncomfortable one. It would be disingenuous of me to talk about the big stuff of life and lessons learned and all that and not acknowledge that Ben & I got divorced this year. Kind of a big deal. I won't dissect the details here because that's not appropriate. But I do need to talk about how I digested the situation and where I'm at now. We celebrated our 10th anniversary in July, separated in Sept, and finalized the divorce in March. This sharing is just about acknowledging, of course, how the cancer diagnosis and the cascade of everything following it played a role in the split (from my perspective--I won't speak for Ben). <br />
<br />
For my 2-year cancerversary, I had written about Ben asking me if it was all worth it. My answer, though a difficult one, was definitely yes. I guess it would have been a good idea to ask him that question, too. I think looking at me became looking at a lot of losses personified, the big one being the loss of any certainty for both of us. I don't know if people truly get that going through a diagnosis like this is not just the big bomb dropping once and then starting the clean-up--the tiny bombs keep dropping just when you think they're done and you've earned some peace. The whole decision-making process for treatment was a series of choose-your-poisons, sometimes literally, and there were so many moments of realizing how complicated it made everyday life and future planning and how some of those future options were being taken away. We had always approached our life together with an appreciation for all we earned and worked hard for--we didn't have much just handed to us. But as much as that leads you away from feeling a sense of entitlement in life overall, I think we felt entitled to the things we <i>did</i> work so hard for. Then the cancer even took that sense away, and I think we both handled it differently. And I think that's where distance, and giving each other the space to figure it out, got to be too much space. <br />
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So yeah, that was tough. My heart was broken, and my idea of what I thought we had built together and what we were working towards turned out to be wrong. But I also had to stop second-guessing myself--and him--and realize that we were both doing the best we could at the time. There could have been myriad other ways to go about this journey, but we chose what made sense to us at the time--despite the outcome, I have no regrets. And we are moving forward and moving on. And we are, in my humble opinion, doing a really good job parenting Olive through all this.<br />
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So yes, there is "moving on". And that's another thing that I won't dissect the details of, not to be coy. But again, I have gotten reinforcement that I will do okay one way or another with my future when I least expected it. And all of that is more goodness that I am just trying to accept and enjoy while not being at all worried about an outcome. As Sinead wrote, (with a wink and a nod to my former appearance)<br />
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<br />
but Bettye kills here, I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got:<br />
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With spirit, I also have to acknowledge the difficulty and reality of facing cancer, knowing that it has taken far too many good people from my life. In these 3 years, I have had friends and coworkers get diagnosed and die. I have had encounters with many who carry around the knowledge that their risks of getting cancer are way too big because of our common genetic mutation. We talk about what that means and how the hell you make these seemingly unreasonable choices, about when enough is enough, about when it's too much...<br />
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And again, I face my future. I am afraid and I am not afraid. I am preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. I know what I hope my end of life looks like but am saving for retirement. Because who knows? I will move forward, learn lessons, enjoy, love, and deal with whatever.<br />
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(Don't read too much into the lyrics. It's just a beautiful song that makes me feel what all this passage of time is like...)Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-17578287369803267802013-06-26T19:40:00.000-05:002013-06-26T19:40:31.624-05:003 Years--MindThis is where I get to walk through the thinking that has churned around in my brain for the last year. Lots of stuff from more cancer to what I want out of life to current events. Sometimes it's hard to separate out the mind from the spirit, so don't read too much into the home I've chosen for different things.<br />
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Well, first of all, I wish I could say that I had a day go by when I didn't remember what I went through with this diagnosis. It would be potentially much different if I didn't look down at my chest and see the obvious every day. It's not that I agonize over it. It's just always there. And that's okay, because I am now at a point where I can't fathom how to go about having boobs again. I recently tried on my prosthetics for the first time in probably over a year, and it just changes the whole quality of my body and how I carry myself. I kind of hate to say it, but I think I carry myself with a little more poise these days. Basically, aside from my effing puffy arm, I am very comfortable in my skin these days. I live in a weird in-between world where I am no longer judged by traditional standards. Certainly not something to be jealous of given the circumstances, but it's nice in its own way. I've already covered the physical downsides, so I won't belabor that.<br />
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As for the process of thinking itself, that is much better. Most days. Chemo brain is real, my friends, and it comes at a time when you think you're losing your mind anyway. I seriously felt that my worth was diminished in my career and at home because I couldn't stay on top of my game during treatment and really for a year or 2 after that. And I worried it would never come back! But there are signs of a bounce--there have been a few days where everything has just been clicking and I can stay on top of or ahead of where I should be. (Then there are the ones where I don't get anything done because I just can't focus, but they are fewer than before...)<br />
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Sometimes I think back on my thought process during diagnosis and treatment and am just sad at how far underwater I felt and how I had no plan of how I wanted to approach the fight. I think if I asked you all, you'd say that I came across as having my shit pretty together, but man, what a joke! I was not cut out for all that at once. By which I'm referring to the cancer itself, the multitudes of decisions that just keep coming and coming throughout the process, parenting a baby, trying to figure out a marriage while adjusting to baby and cancer, working, trying to decide what brand of healthy lifestyle changes I wanted to pursue, the genetic part of the equation, etc. etc. I could just never get to the point where I could become a health warrior and get super dedicated to some sort of new diet/meditation/exercise/whatever regimen, even though that feels like the direction people were encouraging me to go--out of love and good intentions. But knowing that people like to see that new lifestyle/new attitude kind of narrative, not following it and taking charge made me feel I was letting people (and myself) down at times. That was hard.<br />
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Not that I wasn't doing some of that stuff. I couldn't fully adopt the approach of curling up in a ball and not dealing with life, either. It's not in my nature to lose it and break down for too long--even if that's what I should've let myself do, I couldn't. I just kept pushing myself and trying to maintain control of whatever I could and maintain the "normal". Thinking about it, that's the biggest reason I chose no reconstruction when it comes down to it--the only way I could take control was to remove the parts of my body that were causing problems and not be at the mercy of a recon process that could go many different directions. The mastectomy, the chemo, and the radiation were all necessary choices for me in my mind--the recon was not, and it was all about the bare necessities at that point. And I was also one of the "I don't want to be a burden" types, even though that drives me nuts in other people. I don't know any other way to have gone through the treatment and recovery because I know I was doing the best that I could, but none of it felt good--I maybe didn't have to give up a lot completely, but losing little pieces everywhere and knowing what you can't keep unchanged is enough to drive you nuts. And to know that it was affecting people around you and they had to pick up those little pieces drives you nuts, too.<br />
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There was likely an element of PTSD involved in all of it, too--I don't necessarily go back to the full-on feelings of those moments, but there have been some times that have been close. While so much of it was a blur, my worst moment of anguish, hands-down, was the radiation mapping appt. I never want to feel that way again. That was one of the few times in all of it that I would have described it as "suffering"--that's a hard word to use even now. All of those things I wanted to keep other people from knowing, too. At a time in my life when no one would have questioned me being scared, I still had a very hard time showing it. Not that you can't be both brave and scared at the same time--that is a lesson I am trying to teach Olive these days.<br />
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What else do I think about? Oh, let's see... The glaringly obvious nagging thought is recurrence. As of this post I will magically be transported past the 3-yr window that my oncologist said was the highest risk time for me (with triple negative cancer). I will admit, there are plenty of times I had in my head that I wasn't going to get this far. There will always be some fatalistic element in me that expects more cancer, just like it was normal for me to think I'd get it based on family history. And I'm sure it comes partially from my line of work--I have done some funeral planning in my head like any good hospice employee... My biggest hope in all this was to get to see Olive start kindergarten, and I'm on track to make that happen. Then other milestones will come, but the shorter time frames have to be the approach for me. And I don't want that to sound morbid, because it's not! It's about happiness in many things and many ways, appreciating what you have, realizing that nothing is guaranteed but that effort for things you want and value is always worth it.<br />
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It's hard to think too far ahead about Olive and her risk in all this. I will just have to hope. The genetic piece of it is still daunting, and I get frustrated with people who don't understand HOW DIFFERENT the risk of cancer is with a BRCA1 mutation compared to the general population. I have to say that Angelina's story going public with her choice was helpful in its own way. When someone with access to all the resources possible also feels that the best choice to reduce risk is to remove her breasts, that should get people's attention. (It's hard for me to get too caught up and upset about how she made reconstruction sound like the obvious route post-mastectomy--I understand boob culture in a whole new way now, and maintaining her image is part of doing the work she wants.)<br />
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[Speaking of boob culture, I'm only going to say this once, but it's a little public service announcement on behalf of many other breast cancer warriors. Please think twice about campaigns like "save the tatas", etc. There is so much about the breast cancer messaging that focuses on the parts instead of the person. You just don't find that happening with other diseases and cancers. (Though there is a bowlin' for colons event--is that close?) Anyway, I hope you get what I'm saying, and I don't feel worked up enough about it to stay up on my soapbox very long.]<br />
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A lot of this was looking back and talking about my thoughts earlier in the process. What am I thinking now? I'm thinking that no matter what, cancer or no cancer, I'm okay and I'm going to be okay. I'm not under the same weight of it anymore, even knowing it could be part of my reality again at any time. I said it once a long time before (paraphrased from a self-defense lesson), but you have more control over what you fear when you invite it in. I also know that it feels good figuring out my resources now that my life and my home have changed and I'm TCB for myself. I'm working on slowly getting to the point where I can give back to some friends and supporters what they gave me when I needed it--it was all about self-preservation for a while, and it feels good to get beyond that. <br />
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There. That's probably enough for now. Tomorrow, Spirit. We've got it, yes we do! We've got it, how 'bout you? That will probably be my favorite part to talk about...<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-62181147109685967332013-06-25T13:10:00.000-05:002013-06-25T13:10:05.828-05:003 Years--BodyWelcome to the 3-year anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis. In honor of 3 years, I am writing 3 posts, having to do with what is often considered the 3 parts of the "whole" person--body, mind, and spirit. It has been 3 years with change being a constant. I almost said the <i>only</i> constant, but then faces of so many good, good people popped into my head that I realized that was totally inaccurate. Anyway, there is plenty more to come, with a recap of necessary events sprinkled throughout to get you up to speed.<br />
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Let's start with BODY.<br />
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How's the ole container doing<i>, </i>anyway? Well, (and this would be my answer to almost any post-cancer questions,) in some ways great, and in other ways has seen better days. But, to be clear, there has been no sign of additional cancer, so that is the great. Shall I go from the top down?<br />
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My hair has returned to its former state, down to about my chin now, basically the same (thick, brown, wavy) with a little more grey mixed in. My skin (face and beyond) still seems to have gotten a little less resilient, but is that just age or is that treatment--I don't know. I'm guessing chemo and radiation are about equivalent to about 10 years of premature aging. Not saying I look haggard for my age, just saying that my baseline changed forever. <br />
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On down to the upper airway... in the course of all this, I was diagnosed with sleep apnea, so now I have a cpap to wear at night. The snoring stopped and I rest better, at least, but it's weird.<br />
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Then, well, the arms. Specifically, old righty. Still struggling with the lymphedema--getting closer to a better baseline with that, but still visible swelling, and I've had 3 rounds of cellulitis in that arm in the last year. That has been scary. I am continuing to do my own drainage maintenance, wearing compression gear, wrapping at night, some craniosacral therapy appts. I am hoping that advances in surgical lymph node transplant come a little farther soon and are offered a little more locally--I'd have to travel to PA to have the surgery currently. It's chronic condition management, so sometimes I keep up better than others. It is probably the thing about the post-cancer that makes me feel the least normal and seems the most obvious. I hate it. It still makes me angry and resentful sometimes.<br />
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And the arm means I will forever have restrictions on the activity I can do and how much I can lift. Sometimes I push it a little, but I'm trying to behave. Now that I have to maintain the house, I've had to hire help for things that I will just not be able to manage. It's a bummer for someone who used to dig holes for a living and likes to do physical things like that...<br />
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Then to the chest. Chests have been a topic of public discussion lately, and I'm still out in the world flatter than a man. I have worn my breast prostheses twice that I can recall since my surgery. Ever. I guess I just never got in the habit of having things back on my chest. There is a "club" of sorts for us bilat mastectomy with no reconstruction women, Flat & Fabulous. Many of the members had reconstruction, only to have multiple complications and need to have them reversed, and there is another group of us who never had recon. For those who don't remember the reasons behind my choice, it would have meant multiple other surgeries and clinic visits, longer recovery with more lifting restrictions (while Olive was still a baby), implants were really the only option, and the odd of them making it through radiation without issues was not great. And I was reassured at the time by Ben that he wouldn't want fakies, either. As I hear more from women that did have recon, a straightforward recovery is never a guarantee. <br />
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I revisit the decision from time to time for multiple reasons, not the least of which is I'm now single, and it is much different to face the world of dating/relationships with an obvious physical difference. So far I've been lucky enough to have found acceptance, but I am sure there will be some patches of rejection and self-doubt to come. Not that anyone else doesn't face rejection in some variety, but you do have to admit that this is a pretty big absence, especially in the world of sexuality. And I think I will continue to come back to occasionally reassessing the reconstruction question, see what advances are out there, etc. I still don't think I'd do well with implants at any time. I'd worry about the impact on the lymphedema, and I still have a lot of pain issues and don't think that would help things. The one intriguing option is autologous fat transplant (lipo your own fat from other "abundant" areas, inject into the breast area after stretching the skin/creating pockets). But right now, there are very few MDs performing it, so I'd have to travel to Miami multiple times and go through other physical prep. Maybe further down the road.<br />
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So yeah, pain--the other issue in my chest area. Seems like I was talking about this a year ago, and really no headway. I've tried a couple of different medications and am due for a pain consult whenever I can get it scheduled. There have been some recent studies out about the high prevalence of post-mastectomy pain and the fact that it is undertreated--it makes me sad to think of how many women are dealing with it. It is often complex, a mix of multiple pain types, and it becomes its own nasty feedback cycle that is often called a complex regional pain syndrome. So we'll see--I, of all people, who teach people about pain all the time, have been undertreating it myself while I know that it actually will make it worse. There are multiple barriers--the same ones we talk to patients and families about all the time! Unfortunately, the least of which is not the stigma associated with taking controlled substance pain medication, getting refills, etc. It's also the reality of trying to increase dosage effectively while dealing with a few days of more side effects--it's hard to miss work right now, and it's especially hard to time it around days that I have Olive time and can't afford to be drowsy, dizzy, etc. But I'll get there, because it wears on me. I don't want it to be the norm in my life.<br />
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The rest of the bod has been hanging in there. A lot of the fatigue is gone, and a lot of that has come from a much better regimen of diet and exercise (and I have lost weight and gotten more fit...). Not that I am strict with any plan, but I am doing enough now to bounce back faster. My overall tolerance for long days is still probably less than most people, so I can still hit the wall hard. But I can vividly remember the times when I could barely function during and after treatment, so this is a big improvement. My biggest downfall lately is that I have become a night owl again and have not been getting enough sleep. I blame people that like to call me late and that I like to stay up and talk to ;)--there are worse things!<br />
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Random stuff--I will never regain the fat that was removed with the surgery, so I will always look like a rib cage. I am trying to keep my weight down to avoid having a very strange flat top/big belly phenomenon that would look stranger than it may sound... Mosquitoes like me again, esp my ankles. You may recall that there was some time after chemo that they did not come and bite me since I must have been emanating some nasty chemicals. So I guess it's out of my system enough for their taste! Yay? And it may be time for a new tattoo soon. If anyone says "pink ribbon", I will seriously put the hurt on you. For real.<br />
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And I send a strange thank you out to my couple of people who have still had me model for them or asked me to model. Apparently what I lack in boobs, I make up for in legs and hair. I try to take those opportunities and seriously try not to be too self-deprecating, because I <u>really</u> do appreciate that my friends encourage me to flaunt what I've still got. Sometimes I can get myself feeling kind of cool about it. I've got a pretty good bubble of self-acceptance and better confidence these days, and that reinforcement at the right times has helped get me there or keep me there. Oh, maybe I should insert a picture of me and my stems. Or gams, if you prefer. I've been joking that I should add "waist-down model" to my resume...<br />
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In honor of the other women that have recently fought to show mastectomy pictures on Facebook and normalize things, I was going to post pics of my scars but am hesitating. Scars, tiny tattoos, a perpetual tan in my radiation area, and ribs, ribs, ribs, but I also haven't had them artfully shot like the Scar Project. <br />
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I'll get more into the post-cancer mindset in the MIND post and talk about the recurrence thing, etc. And many other thoughts. I know you can hardly wait.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-44318696512309530452013-02-11T22:43:00.002-06:002013-02-11T22:43:42.374-06:00Recreate<div>
You know, sometimes you should know when to take the u-turn down memory lane and when to stop yourself. I went further down the road then I should have today and it left me in a mood. </div>
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In trying to remember my chemo regimen to share with another unfortunate diagnosee, I read back through far more of these entries than I should have. It was like watching myself slowly get deconstructed. Remembered how I got my funky scars, the hospital trips, the waiting, the worrying and uncertainty. Deconstructed my relationships with others during that time, too, and am being hard on myself in hindsight. </div>
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I know it's not helpful and not necessary, but it's like watching your own car wreck and you can't turn away. Even though the next chapter is good, at least so far! It's just leaving me feeling exposed again--bald, boobless, unable to hide weaknesses and hide the impact of it all, even though I have done a lot of rebuilding since that time. Not sure what to do with it right now. I'm feeling the losses of that whole period. Even recreating that time feels like there's a lot missing, that I'm just getting my narrow field of vision and I want the greater context so I can find more meaning in it.</div>
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Don't get me wrong--I have much happiness now. I am okay, I am good. I have a different sense of empathy now that I hope makes me better at being there for others. I can live much more in the moment. Today I am just acutely aware that while my bad moments may have passed for now, they are very active for others, and I feel it in my bones. Hold on tight, my friends and loved ones--we will get through it soon.</div>
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-40755586235719464742012-06-25T23:19:00.000-05:002012-06-25T23:19:59.153-05:00Survival SkillsTwo years ago was my diagnosis. I am a "2-year survivor".<br />
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Last night Ben asked me if it was worth it. My first reaction was a surprised laugh. Then it got heavy. The answer is "yes", but it's a harder answer than I wish it was.<br />
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I wish this was an inspiring tale of how I finished my grueling treatment (about a year's worth), got back into life, and conquered the world. You know, finished a triathlon or climbed a mountain. Raised tens of thousands of dollars for charity. The stuff of the inspirational movies and books. <br />
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But I am no poster child. My 2 years have been a one-step-forward, one-step-back kind of story. I am not done with it. Sometimes I get angry that only the pretty picture is put forward, not the one that involves the chronic illness side of things. I've talked to other survivors, and the easy answer they all give is that they are fine. There is little sense of permission in the world to not be fine when the worst of it is over, and especially not permission to share that and be vocal. I feel that many times, too (but I'm getting over it for this post).<br />
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We are managing. It<b> <u>is</u></b> worth it because at the end of the day, a get more time with the people I love and want to be around. But I want to be further along than I am--I keep waiting for the end of the tunnel, because I have seen light for a while but am still too far away to be standing in it. This was the time when things were supposed to be back to normal and the worst of the longer effects would be done.<br />
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So here is where I'm at:<br />
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My day-to-day is fairly normal in many senses. I can go along pretty well, my cognition is mostly back where I want it with some very mild short-term memory issues. My energy can sustain me through the day, but when I'm done at night, I'm done. I am totally spent. My body aches, and I become tender to the touch in my surgical area/chest. Sleep is either like a rock or really restless with little in between, and Ben says I snore worse than I ever have and we wind up sleeping apart sometimes because of it. I can sleep in 2 positions--on my back or on my left side, and I need to try to keep my right arm elevated in either position. Which brings me to the right arm. The lymphedema is still going strong, making it big and puffy, heavy, and sometimes achy in the joints. It has resisted efforts with OT so far to get the swelling down and keep it down, especially in my hand. I have to wear compression garments (glove and sleeve) day and night, though sometimes I take breaks because I am sick of it. I have manual drainage to do on a daily basis (if I can muster up the gumption).<br />
<br />
I've had that, shingles x2, and the doozy of a cellulitis infection in my right arm. My arm is "immunocompromised" even if the rest of me is not. I am limited in my physical activity, am having a hard time lifting Olive, and I just realized the other day that I will likely never be able to get back to direct bedside nursing because of lifting restrictions. <br />
<br />
It's a regular process of adjusting expectations. But I guess I'm stubborn. <br />
<br />
What am I doing that is good? Well, I've been getting to do things with some good friends when I can. I'm trying to get to yoga once a week, and I hope I can work up to twice weekly, and then taking the evening to myself. I've been working hard--maybe a little too hard. Getting in a lot of Olive time.<br />
<br />
What do I need to work on? As I said, at night I am just spent. That has meant I have crapped out on a lot of phone conversations, catching up with my family, keeping up with holidays and birthdays. That makes me feel kinda shitty. I have another pile of things waiting to be taken care of that I just haven't gotten to--it's plenty to get Olive to bed, do dishes/laundry, and then space out before I go to bed. I hope the people that know and love me can forgive me for checking out and being inconsistent for the last couple of years. It means the world to me to have felt the love an support I have, and I hope I get back to where I am fully reciprocating.<br />
<br />
And then there is the looming worry about recurrence. There is no good feeling about having the sword of Damocles over your head. The best picture that I have been given is that if I can make it through one more year without recurrence, I will be at much lower risk. That makes for a very strange year of waiting for the other shoe to drop. There is a part of me that always needs to keep that in my head so I could be prepared. I can't even commit to getting a dog right now.<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Okay, that's enough. There are so many lovely things in life. I have fought hard to see them, and I have earned every small moment of goodness I can savor. I will savor the love that has poured out to me from so many good people. I will keep working on being the person I want to be.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I hope the road to get there is long.</span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-63505985956913276002011-11-22T22:51:00.000-06:002011-11-22T22:51:28.146-06:0050/50Oh, you know, we've been busy in the last weeks. Usual stuff and everyone's well. I could brag about Olive stuff, but you'll just have to come see her for yourself. I had a few very busy weeks at work and am very happy that it's a shorter holiday week--one might say that I'm "thankful"! We'll have a nice day up in Wausau to see my immediate fam, and then to Milwaukee for a couple of days while Ben finishes crafting something...<br />
<br />
I went to see the movie 50/50 a few days ago. For those of you not familiar, it's a movie about a young guy (late-20s?) that is diagnosed with a rare cancer and is given a 50/50 survival rate. You see him through the diagnosis, chemo, surgery. It's a dramedy. It was alright--not a heavy hitter as far as movies go, but to watch the cancer journey from the outside was tough even if they glossed over a lot. I was crying pretty decently at different times. The hardest parts? Well, you get to see the perspective of the people supporting him through it--his best friend, his parents--and to feel the powerlessness, how much they want to do SOMETHING to make it better but struggle, and how it feels to them when he's not telling them what's going on. It was also hard to watch him panic before going into surgery and just think back about how numb I must have been at the time of mine. <br />
<br />
So what were my takeaways? Well, mostly about the feelings of those around you when you're not telling them how you're really feeling. There was a part of this journey when I just couldn't hide how hard it was for anyone--it was written all over my pained, green face. But now, when I'm better and am trying hard to get back to normal, I forget that nobody can tell what it's like to be me at the end of the day, that it sucks that enjoying a normal day with Olive & Ben takes a lot out of me and makes me hurt at the end of the day... So I'm talking about it, including making it clear to Ben that I'm tagging out for a break because I physically need one. I don't want to belabor what it's like, but my upper body is fragile by the end of the day.<br />
<br />
The other piece that I'm still thinking about: at the end of the movie, his surgery was kind of set up as a success, meaning that he was done with it all. He had a clean slate and came out on the good end of the 50%. I don't feel like the end of treatment was a clean slate for me. There is too much carry-over into how I feel every day to make it feel like a fresh start--it's still recovery. I guess I could just take the mindset that it's a new chance to make the most of my life, and I feel like I am in a lot of ways. But dang, it would be nice to feel reinvigorated. I am not going to be taking on heroic, inspiring, survivor-y things for a while because by the end of the day, I have given all I can. I would love to get to a point where I get beyond that and where I can start reaching out and doing for others. I hope that the coming seasons will bring that around for me.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-27675974107702379632011-11-05T17:03:00.000-05:002011-11-05T17:03:47.500-05:00HalloweenAnd because it wouldn't be fair to hog the spotlight from the real star around here, here are some Olive Halloween shots...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIArUtpvlLkLy_kogXBMutoy-lt0vk5HSOwDvoMG_ds3D7KLIJNCYYSfGQcG4GoqFZwuiJbrWLxyS1JfsC-lDez4RjnHeWzqlIaoFV7AG0vnXpqlT8dWmc9Qe8bvn7OKGeKld8cI9kL2dp/s1600/IMG_0396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIArUtpvlLkLy_kogXBMutoy-lt0vk5HSOwDvoMG_ds3D7KLIJNCYYSfGQcG4GoqFZwuiJbrWLxyS1JfsC-lDez4RjnHeWzqlIaoFV7AG0vnXpqlT8dWmc9Qe8bvn7OKGeKld8cI9kL2dp/s320/IMG_0396.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSUYroc4uLbXUviLK-Q1Tn2JRSWTEd31iUdpDYwsn9xl84MKKNWt0raPqWmABln9iU3B325ZZFAfs3pctPz_QzhwaIO-kptYCZe5HSVrMvx_lF0z2tr3a2D49uU-EbzCChgvBQm7QrT1vc/s1600/IMG_0422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSUYroc4uLbXUviLK-Q1Tn2JRSWTEd31iUdpDYwsn9xl84MKKNWt0raPqWmABln9iU3B325ZZFAfs3pctPz_QzhwaIO-kptYCZe5HSVrMvx_lF0z2tr3a2D49uU-EbzCChgvBQm7QrT1vc/s320/IMG_0422.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Tc3TczUlvSUXGH6MMeW9TWetFukUodNN4T2aNB0nNOP5rPautyjH52oIJqsYB-el98CBfIqxE40Ah-0pfA_FXrudJBbVotRFFujCYqgaOkFaZG3U6Sw7O2fzuIG9jl0OiImpmaWSdHWa/s1600/IMG_0423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Tc3TczUlvSUXGH6MMeW9TWetFukUodNN4T2aNB0nNOP5rPautyjH52oIJqsYB-el98CBfIqxE40Ah-0pfA_FXrudJBbVotRFFujCYqgaOkFaZG3U6Sw7O2fzuIG9jl0OiImpmaWSdHWa/s320/IMG_0423.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyUStWFyB7bxlYjlWiQLB0S0VoAj2Ubp_iwUPq7BpLxOEr6iOUs0-YvwjbP4Ynvky4JYDWMyI6w8FxsZUIpVypS17L04gzg4Irk06aY7ixdxGMG2H1VTpRDHx2oSw4fY_YVK4eYVrtN0v/s1600/IMG_0482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyUStWFyB7bxlYjlWiQLB0S0VoAj2Ubp_iwUPq7BpLxOEr6iOUs0-YvwjbP4Ynvky4JYDWMyI6w8FxsZUIpVypS17L04gzg4Irk06aY7ixdxGMG2H1VTpRDHx2oSw4fY_YVK4eYVrtN0v/s320/IMG_0482.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggX7nAo917qXyQ2caBKWGo2PG_a8P3_T7zbXDbd92XpLlur5xTXvA5MXhoweY1WOATKumuznuaeGlTc8An_6GVvLB5x5fmdI3J_eK_eMgtaFRo6aIm5AQwhNCvuHo2MnRHAk86Yu0iz4bC/s1600/IMG_0484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggX7nAo917qXyQ2caBKWGo2PG_a8P3_T7zbXDbd92XpLlur5xTXvA5MXhoweY1WOATKumuznuaeGlTc8An_6GVvLB5x5fmdI3J_eK_eMgtaFRo6aIm5AQwhNCvuHo2MnRHAk86Yu0iz4bC/s320/IMG_0484.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdHJxJHCD5uWjiEIyJKM0keVnQRmCI7T6yIuVihrSPf8J0y2Ef1le6U0MygXL1M01PNJaKeD05ZfMN0pxH8rH5TB07Svi4TRFHMpwWXcqdL8eZODho1HlA57WK_MMCZDrzai1sX1zV88I/s1600/IMG_0485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdHJxJHCD5uWjiEIyJKM0keVnQRmCI7T6yIuVihrSPf8J0y2Ef1le6U0MygXL1M01PNJaKeD05ZfMN0pxH8rH5TB07Svi4TRFHMpwWXcqdL8eZODho1HlA57WK_MMCZDrzai1sX1zV88I/s320/IMG_0485.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rawr.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTxoj1xoukHAMJymxfIddciM15QQ0XInhfAO2UQBIqt-7yKsjg0C37yirCpTRZrpEyNMEpCa4vISbyQKOXnzowgPiQvUY4md1ZpqqW2Fa93apJ_50o8RL_D79HwtwEXET9Nhyl4WMNigR/s1600/IMG_0490.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTxoj1xoukHAMJymxfIddciM15QQ0XInhfAO2UQBIqt-7yKsjg0C37yirCpTRZrpEyNMEpCa4vISbyQKOXnzowgPiQvUY4md1ZpqqW2Fa93apJ_50o8RL_D79HwtwEXET9Nhyl4WMNigR/s320/IMG_0490.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd2MZwo6vidFXyb6VsgohQ0MUvbpiV5jk3IK1K46_bkZG66qkcdj_4CtPTcqghv2YUgxp1DECH093l4q5PkEEzERa4WDbIirx5Qvfn0e99F6Kz3q9f6A7huCGOZ9SMg8t0k3A80xBmijEf/s1600/IMG_0508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd2MZwo6vidFXyb6VsgohQ0MUvbpiV5jk3IK1K46_bkZG66qkcdj_4CtPTcqghv2YUgxp1DECH093l4q5PkEEzERa4WDbIirx5Qvfn0e99F6Kz3q9f6A7huCGOZ9SMg8t0k3A80xBmijEf/s320/IMG_0508.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSg-P5IuRwxHybXBQs1ELASDhybf_sv0nCEeXgSTnF31CDknEe76JbYaiATo0Rxp9PQGjEcL7NmckL9qAzWPAS32uRhVLoWTUcHX4bXPSQ2mwsfgbtxifaBQNXHU3yi61S6MlD7pQXeQM/s1600/IMG_0509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSg-P5IuRwxHybXBQs1ELASDhybf_sv0nCEeXgSTnF31CDknEe76JbYaiATo0Rxp9PQGjEcL7NmckL9qAzWPAS32uRhVLoWTUcHX4bXPSQ2mwsfgbtxifaBQNXHU3yi61S6MlD7pQXeQM/s320/IMG_0509.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-89979963897559754402011-11-05T16:48:00.000-05:002011-11-05T16:48:19.537-05:00Fashion ShowOkay, here's evidence. It was actually a lot of fun! (The hair and makeup stuff was slightly absurd, and some people are VERY serious about it all, but our group enjoyed it...) Great turnout, got a lot of good exposure for my friend Natalie's awesome store, and I didn't fall down. I was feeling pretty cool until you have to stand there and smile for a couple of minutes--then it starts to feel awkward.<br />
<br />
Yep, we got local news time... <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.nbc15.com/video/?autoStart=true&topVideoCatNo=default&clipId=6390079" target="_blank">http://www.nbc15.com/video/?autoStart=true&topVideoCatNo=default&clipId=6390079</a><br />
<br />
And here are some pics:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFTUTiRmz2faMVp15OHzc5S8WDe5H09l8hHPUDbzJN1NM-ESAOnqUqQOVwhPM1y7y19u6b8khmOMXyLrKSs5T5sYgNZJwwfOcKRR7Wxl0IrO94ocou84tLKcxQM1pj4fSBSgjfiWo_Mka/s1600/fashion6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFTUTiRmz2faMVp15OHzc5S8WDe5H09l8hHPUDbzJN1NM-ESAOnqUqQOVwhPM1y7y19u6b8khmOMXyLrKSs5T5sYgNZJwwfOcKRR7Wxl0IrO94ocou84tLKcxQM1pj4fSBSgjfiWo_Mka/s320/fashion6.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVEjFx-2M37jB4RpH_d8o6ACsYCdQK-lRpt1P9f6SQOs0oauIiLtlFKioFve8dI3RPXfPVMva322GgsSMN9HVk9EvZfKv-af3v63EPyg9tvBGTrDM9-wZuO3Zw4sMgnjoK67Y_ZrRTE_nb/s1600/fashion1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVEjFx-2M37jB4RpH_d8o6ACsYCdQK-lRpt1P9f6SQOs0oauIiLtlFKioFve8dI3RPXfPVMva322GgsSMN9HVk9EvZfKv-af3v63EPyg9tvBGTrDM9-wZuO3Zw4sMgnjoK67Y_ZrRTE_nb/s320/fashion1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhoS6h0IY7Ah2WPPyqKhxMNvc3yeFoa8q-H-EJDDX0ziahFp0ZcS4o6trqSYh88CqzfuCPsR9KF0pfIK8dF3EdA-omnCGMTbDrxYE8AYfeOxGevr_y14K_BXdkXaxN9uNk4UI3005V6_Ew/s1600/fashion2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhoS6h0IY7Ah2WPPyqKhxMNvc3yeFoa8q-H-EJDDX0ziahFp0ZcS4o6trqSYh88CqzfuCPsR9KF0pfIK8dF3EdA-omnCGMTbDrxYE8AYfeOxGevr_y14K_BXdkXaxN9uNk4UI3005V6_Ew/s320/fashion2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gQp58MRSuxP62TbXVQ8hOvbvJqNHF13Woz__Nu-Nd3_wFEZ0NmEEjIT2Zj1zXXt3UtwI-sUZeLOwN7GwbLAXyCMXn5MboJSvhfmCHK7nF8Ogd0ATD6Xy9H1lH2xkazXh9GDWBkLRzSqt/s1600/fashion3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gQp58MRSuxP62TbXVQ8hOvbvJqNHF13Woz__Nu-Nd3_wFEZ0NmEEjIT2Zj1zXXt3UtwI-sUZeLOwN7GwbLAXyCMXn5MboJSvhfmCHK7nF8Ogd0ATD6Xy9H1lH2xkazXh9GDWBkLRzSqt/s320/fashion3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGh5GHIABID9d1V1P_RADouZTiFivpFtm0aTcfG5eHv9ZiClmIcgC0GjX7D03AYsAPDKDyWBfwUOVy5zJhmcLSJQO5PTTjhyphenhyphenWEw5OZUqDbTFMulfcHJ9_E8tumIF86iAkjX5guqgyQuziE/s1600/fashion4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGh5GHIABID9d1V1P_RADouZTiFivpFtm0aTcfG5eHv9ZiClmIcgC0GjX7D03AYsAPDKDyWBfwUOVy5zJhmcLSJQO5PTTjhyphenhyphenWEw5OZUqDbTFMulfcHJ9_E8tumIF86iAkjX5guqgyQuziE/s320/fashion4.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgGXDCB82Fi74FhXpCxWzOvpjSCzZgEJGACRp_Yi_CDy35uy6huCVfSRUzmwPKfjBA6fCbObtGCdI_itbKnE4o979AIp15n-vBgwQvGS9b9HjahUMheH6ifmHugt63lC0TqbBuKiGcyPH/s1600/fashion5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgGXDCB82Fi74FhXpCxWzOvpjSCzZgEJGACRp_Yi_CDy35uy6huCVfSRUzmwPKfjBA6fCbObtGCdI_itbKnE4o979AIp15n-vBgwQvGS9b9HjahUMheH6ifmHugt63lC0TqbBuKiGcyPH/s320/fashion5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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I have to say, though, that the last year has gone a long way in erasing a lot of self-consciousness. After walking around for months bald, pale/green, and boobless, this is a victory of some sort. I'm hoping this is the freedom from caring what other people think that's supposed to come in your 50s and I'm just ahead of schedule...<br />
<br />
So there you have it--my runway debut and swan song! <br />
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<span id="goog_93613048"></span><span id="goog_93613049"></span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-85083226531067127972011-10-25T22:56:00.001-05:002011-10-26T22:23:23.881-05:00Strutting our Stuff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyXYpmRAY0-bBDB_zHGmDoSN-dYs7-SFyAX1ti96oZspFDuk87FliOp4YSejV9fH9RAsx0iMTui1aIKlKdArA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
So for those who have asked how Olive's progressing, this is last week and she's faster this week, also running back and forth through the house regularly. I think I made the mistake of telling her she'd have more energy after a nap and now she's proving me right! No more limp. (She keeps stopping in the video because she likes you to say "Ready, set, go!" a lot.)<br />
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So I'm learning to walk, too. On a runway. In a fashion show. Tomorrow. One of my friends is a designer that asked me to do it, and it's for domestic abuse intervention, so here I go... On the plus side, I had rehearsal yesterday and was told I have a good walk. I also take it as a plus, too, that I am no longer so self-conscious that I would say no. I've got nothing to lose!<br />
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Had other stuff in the last week or so, mostly really good. Busy work weeks, but the weekends have been fine, had another therapy session, went to a conference with Julie about cancer and integrative medicine that inspired me to start taking steps again to clean up my act, especially when it comes to diet. I haven't fully started yet, for those of you who saw me with dessert today--shush.<br />
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I don't know if there will be video or photo evidence of my escapade tomorrow--well, I know there will be somewhere, but I may not try to track it down. But I may post some for you... Time to get my beauty sleep.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-52589833667268837112011-10-17T22:14:00.000-05:002011-10-17T22:14:55.735-05:00Here and goneHope you all had a good weekend--we did overall, just pretty ordinary and that's just fine! Got to sneak in some family visits with Gene & Kate, Mary & Rick, Adeline, Jeri Christine & Christopher... Olive was still feverish from the croup through Friday and a little Saturday, but she finally started sleeping better and so did we. Back to day care today, close to good as new but worn out and tantrummy at home. Thanks, dear.<br />
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I will be keeping it short and sweet because I have a busy week coming up--actually 2 weeks. Sneaking in another therapy session this week, then a local cancer conference Friday. Overall, life is feeling pretty normal right now. I'd better knock wood.<br />
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I do have some running video of Olive--I'm too lazy to post more tonight, so I'll save it. 'Nite.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-38893790257152607702011-10-11T23:02:00.000-05:002011-10-11T23:02:27.254-05:00HealingSo Olive's got croup. But it's not scary bad, like we're not worried about her being able to breathe. Ben & she had an interrupted night, as I did the night before. And father and daughter hung out today instead of day care. We'll cross our fingers for sleep tonight... Oh, and I will post some fast-walking/running video very soon.<br />
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Yesterday was ovarian cancer screening for me (every 6 months), and all is well on that front. And today was my first therapy session. Got an excellent referral and feel like it's the right thing for me to do at the right time. Today was spent reviewing "the story of what brought me to therapy". I had plenty of material for an hour! Mostly the last year, but then reviewing the cycles of change and loss we've been through for a good five-ish years. It's a lot. It's weird to want confirmation/validation of that, but it helps. So now we dive into it, and I will dare to explore self-image, beliefs, marriage, family, parenthood, career, friendships--the whole shebang. It's all these "now what?" pieces that will probably keep me going back for a long time. And today was a reminder that if you see me about to institute a major life change in the near future, make me take a time out...Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-90858943748468910882011-10-07T20:50:00.000-05:002011-10-07T20:50:35.395-05:00Cleaning HouseWell, progress was made. A lot. It was a good day!<br />
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As a testament to why I had put off sorting through a lot of my crazy piles of stuff, there were some strange moments. Strangest was finding the very piece of paper where I wrote down my biopsy results when I got the cancer diagnosis. It took monumental focus at work that day to write the words "invasive ductal carcinoma" all the way through without freaking out. My body remembers that feeling well...<br />
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Olive was very funny today and mostly very agreeable until she got tired. Her "run" is turning into an actual run! What else... She wanted to try my mineral water and has only had carbonation one other time, so I told her the little bubbles can feel kind of funny in your mouth, so she was calling it "silly goose water" :). And she thoroughly enjoyed a WI fish fry (as did we), especially the cole slaw.<br />
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Good night!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5177820351171089762.post-44863084955885575072011-10-06T22:44:00.000-05:002011-10-06T22:44:22.306-05:00Action-packedOkay, a recap of the last week-ish...<br />
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Olive: Miss T. R. Ubble got back to walking without holding on a week after the cast was off, and is now trying to "run" (fast walking) and doing stairs. She still has a limp at times, wears a brace similar to her cast at night and is being a very good sport about that. With walking comes the re-discovery that she can make everything take 5 times longer than normal if she keeps moving. Also, she feels like hitting, which brings us to her her first time-outs. The other day I just felt like asking her why she hit me, and she answered "I'm sassy." Yes. Yes you are. But even tonight was better--I think she just needed to retest her boundaries.<br />
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Whatever spell you need to cast, my darling-- suddenly I want to give you cookies for every meal, let you drive the car, move back bedtime a few hours...<br />
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Me: Oh, it's been action-packed, alright! Had a nice long weekend enjoying the fall colors with Monica (thankyouthankyou). We had all these grand plans of staying up late and acting like 20-yr-olds, and then we wound up going to bed early every night. But it was very relaxing (aside from the 15-mile hike, but that wound up being good, too...). Thanks to Kathy & Bruce for letting me get away and giving Ben a break, too! Then medical oncology appt yesterday afternoon, which was fine--I made her walk through a hypothetical recurrence since that's where my mind jumps sometimes... Then last night Julie took me to see Wilco--great show, nice dinner with friends before. And then next week I have my next round of ovarian cancer screening (every 6 months), and then some OT to get back on top of my arm swelling, and then a cancer conference... And then I am taking tomorrow off.<br />
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Which brings me to my "cleaning house" time. For one, I am going to try therapy. I am equipped to know myself pretty well, but not enough to be able to break out of my own thought patterns and give myself a whole new perspective. This has been a lot to process, if I may take a moment to make you say "duh". And then we come to my office. I think I've 'fessed up here before about its state of disarray, and the fact that it been like that for years. I'm coming to the realization that if I hadn't allowed myself to have that space of chaos the last 5-ish years, there is likely no way I could have kept the rest of my life orderly enough to keep functioning . There have been a few losses of very important people to me and enough other major life events to keep me scrambling, and then throw in the cancer and you have a literal mess. And a mess I haven't had the strength to deal with, because that also means getting rid of/letting go of some things, ascribing meaning to a lot of things... That takes a lot of psychic energy. <br />
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We'll see how far I get tomorrow.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01516378732145582833noreply@blogger.com0