Morning Musings...

Saturday, June 4, 2016. 

I had chemo last Tuesday. The chemo I am taking now is called Taxol. It’s supposed to be easier than the first four rounds and I guess maybe it is in some ways. Taxol has its own set of challenges, however. You’ll remember last time I told you about my intense muscle and joint pain. My oncologist said he was afraid I might experience that and he seems to see it more with younger women. He felt that the second one wouldn’t be as bad. And so far the second one hasn’t been as bad but when I hear “I don’t think this one will be as bad” I actually hear “I think you will feel so great that you will be able to go out and jump hurdles!” Not exactly what he meant apparently. Last night it started to hit me and today it has continued to hit me. I ached from about 3 am up until I got out of bed at 7. I ran a hot bath and put some muscle soaking salt in there and hopefully it will help. In addition to my legs aching, I also am getting these shooting pains in my head. That’s always fun. Sigh. As if it’s not enough to have cancer, then you get to think you’re also having an aneurysm! Ah. Good times! I hate not being able to get up and do what I want. It’s definitely frustrating. I know I will feel better by Tuesday if I can make it through these next couple of days—it’s just getting through the yucky days.

The other thing that is annoying these days is my tasters are completely off. I have no appetite. You have to eat when you have cancer because you need your nutrients and your strength yet I want nothing right now. Get this. I haven’t even drank coffee for three days. I have been drinking apple juice because it tastes good to me. That is just plain insanity right there! And I’m hungry! I sit around and think hmm, wonder what I could eat that would taste good to me? Last week it was watermelon. I had an ice cream cone yesterday and even that didn’t taste good to me. It’s frustrating. I can’t wait to taste again. I love food and coffee and doughnuts—you know I haven’t had a doughnut in probably two months? That’s just crazy talk! 

Safe to say I'm pretty sick of having cancer. I’m just over it. It sucks. And then I feel guilty because I think of all the people who have an illness that won’t ever be over—it will be a constant fight forever. Rest assured my fight is not all sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes I have dark clouds and thunder just like everybody else. I just try not to let it stick around very long.

I am having some neuropathy—my fingertips are numb and tingly. I had this after the last treatment but it went away before I took the second treatment. And I am so tired. I worked Thursday and I came home and I went to bed at 5pm. I was just absolutely zonked. That usually seems to get better by Tuesday so that gives me a week of feeling decent before it’s time to go back. The good news is I only have to go back two more times! My next chemo is on my 39^th birthday! They offered to reschedule it but the truth is that knocking out one more chemo is the best birthday present I can get. After that one I will only have ONE MORE!!!

I think I have explained the process, but several have asked so maybe I haven’t. After I finish my chemo (last week in June), I will rest for a period of four to six weeks. That just pretty much gives my body time to chill out and get ready for another hit. I will go back to see my breast surgeon after I finish chemo and she will check things out and then get things rolling to set up my surgery (should be August.) The surgery will be done with my breast surgeon and my plastic surgeon and will be about a four hour surgery.  I am having a bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. What does that mean? Both boobs are going adios and they are putting in a balloon like device behind the muscle that they can access to fill with a salt water solution every week or two. That will allow everything to stretch over time and then in about three months after that surgery, I will have another surgery to remove the balloon device and have silicone implants inserted. There’s a chance more surgeries will be required but I am being optimistic that everything will go great.

The surgery in August will be the hardest part of all of this. I will be out of commission for a couple of weeks and knocked out on some strong pain meds. I don’t look forward to that because I am a bit of a control freak and I have NO IDEA how life will POSSIBLY go on without me for two weeks (think highly of yourself much, Amanda??) Gotta do what you gotta do I suppose.

Now that I have told you how I’m feeling and what the next few months hold, I have to tell you about the FUN upcoming stuff! And there is all kinds of fun stuff!

Our baseball team has a tournament in Myrtle Beach in July! I wasn’t sure I would be able to go after my diagnosis, but I should be good to go! I'm so excited! Rest and relaxation, salty air and sunshine = best medicine for Amanda. Anybody who knows me knows that is my 100% happy place.

The Battn’ for Boobies Softball tournament that my friends have organized will be July 23 at Jackson River Sports Complex (get registered if you haven’t!) It's way more than just a softball tournament so even if that isn't your thing, be sure to come down and hang out with us!  

The Covington Lumberjacks are having a breast cancer awareness night on July 26! Be sure to come out for that!

And last but not least, I am having a Bye Bye Boobies party at The Rail on Friday, July 29. I have had the most AMAZING SUPPORT throughout this journey and this is my chance to say thank you to everyone. Be sure to come to The Rail and bid my boobs a fond farewell…a Boob Voyage…Ta-Ta to the Ta-tas. More to come on that later!

If I could only figure out how to bottle up the support that this community has shown me, I would give it to every person who is battling cancer. You all have done more for me than I can ever express.

-lightningbug

Nothing Will Ever Really Be the Same...

Today was Chemo Day number five. My chemo regimen consists of four rounds of drugs Adriamycin and Cytoxan and four rounds of a drug called Taxol (total of eight treatments every other week for a total of 16 weeks.) I will finish up at the end of June. I began Dose Dense Taxol today and my biggest fear was an allergic reaction. I was made aware of increased allergic reactions to Taxol. I have prayed and prayed that I wouldn’t have an allergic reaction to this medication. Today I met with my doctor and he seemed pleased with where I was and how I was responding to treatment. He told me that he thought this drug would be much easier on me and also I will no longer have to come in the next day for the Neulasta shot (I sometimes think the Neulasta shot was harder on me than the actual chemo!)

As I sit here and think about what I am feeling and what I want to share, the tears just roll down my cheeks.  I have learned so much over the last few months—about myself, about the human spirit, about generosity and selflessness, about faith, about family and friends, about my community, about cancer and those who are going through it and those who have survived it.  

As with every chemo and every appointment, my best friend has been by my side. Because today’s treatment lasted so long, she had to leave to get her kids from school and I was by myself for a couple of hours. Not long after she left, I missed her! I thought about how lucky I am to have her by my side every step of the way—to listen to my irrational thoughts, to cry with me that one time in the car (yes, we only cried together one time over this), to laugh with me, to ask questions, to insist that the doctors run every test imaginable so I will not worry, to untangle my tubes so I can go to the bathroom, to get me Lay’s and ginger ale, and most of all, to just be there. Always.

There’s a girl who takes treatment on the same day as me and we do not even know each other’s names but when we see each other, we light up and there’s a shared bond that’s really kind of unexplainable. We’re both going through the same thing. I think about how exciting it will be when she finishes and when I finish and we can blow that popsicle stand, but as weird as it sounds, I have spent crucial time with these people and it’s going to be hard to leave them all (the nurses, the staff and the patients.) I have compared fighting cancer to being a soldier and although I don’t know if I am right about this, I suspect that when a soldier gets to go home to his or her family, it’s the most wonderful thing, but at the same time, there’s that same feeling of leaving those you have served alongside through some of the scariest and hardest times of life.

I am 5/8 of the way through this part. I will have my surgery in August and then my second surgery will be in November. I have said that I just want to get this all over with so I can get on with my life and have normal dilemmas once again like what am I going to cook for dinner and who can get the kid from practice tonight. 

While I won’t have to go to chemo every other week or have the side effects or have drain tubes or all the other things that are happening now and in the future, this will now forever be a part of who I am. Nothing will really ever be the same as it was because I am no longer the same as I was. My friendships are deeper, my gratitude is richer, my faith is deeper, my family is stronger, and my priorities are realigned.

I still hate doing dishes and cleaning the toilet. I guess some things are still the same.

-lightningbug

Let's Get This Baby Down the Stairs...

This has been a good week. I had chemo a week ago and that went really well. No nausea and no headaches this time! I have been fighting allergies and sinuses this week but that is something I’ve always done when all the pretty spring flowers start blooming, so that is no surprise! I did get a little nausea when a big stack of EOB’s came rolling in this week. Any guesses on what a round of chemo runs? About $7k/session. Truthfully that is less than I anticpated. Thank God for insurance.

Guess what y’all? I can hardly feel my lump now! That’s what is supposed to be happening and that’s what is happening! After two treatments and I can hardly feel my lump now! It’s totally awesome! 

Yesterday I met with the plastic surgeon to go over the reconstruction process. That was a lot of information to take in. If everything goes as planned, I will have six more rounds of chemo (two more adriamycin-cytoxan) and four taxol and then I will have six weeks of rest. This allows my blood cells to come back into a good, healthy range. After six weeks, I will have a skin sparing, bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. Speak English, Amanda, right?!

http://www.breastcancer.org/treatment/surgery/mastectomy/skinsparing

That link will explain a little better what is going on. The surgeon removes the skin of the nipple, areola, and the original biopsy scar. The breast tissue is removed through the small pocket.

This is where I need to give a huge shout out to all of the women who have fought this battle before me—and I don’t mean just the breast cancer battle—I  mean the battle to have reconstruction as part of the breast cancer package. Thank you to the valiant warriors who have fought the battle with insurance and lawmakers to make breast reconstruction after mastectomy available.  Thank you.

http://www.breastflap.com/practice/federal-law.cfm

I continue to be blessed in a million different ways. I cry every single day because of the kindness and generosity of my friends and family and sometimes people I don’t even know. It’s amazing. It’s humbling and heart warming.

I think today put me over the 100 mark on cards. And you know what I do with them? I hang them up in my living room. It’s probably starting to look a little tacky but I don’t care. It reminds me of all the love that is surrounding me.

Just some of my awesome cards!

Today I took my son to school. I pulled back in the driveway and I was thinking about how great everything is going. I was thinking about how wonderful everything is going. I thought ok, I have six more treatments and I am doing great with my treatments! Six more treatments and then my surgery and then my next surgery and by Christmas I will be halfway normal again! Then I started thinking, oh my gosh. What if I get through all of this and have my reconstructions and a year or two goes by and I’m feeling great and confident and then I find out the cancer is back?! I was letting my mind go all over the place and I opened the car door and looked at the tree in the front yard and there was my red bird to remind me to shush my crazy thoughts and breathe in the goodness of faith and peace. If I get through all of this and God forbid, that happens, then I’ll get through that, too. But worrying about that is too much to take on. Joyce Meyer says that worrying is paying interest on a loan you haven’t even taken out yet. True story.

To say that I have been overwhelmed with the love and support I have received would be the understatement of the century.  My dogs were all overdue for vet check-ups. When I got sick, everything else got pushed to the backburner.  Well, we received word that there was a confirmed rabies case in a raccoon near us, so I went into mama bear mode and knew I had to get those animals in to see the vet! I thought they were all due for rabies vaccines so I was freaking out. I made the appointment and I NEVER take all four dogs at once. They are all great animals but just like kids, if you try to take all at one time, you can imagine how challenging that is! Well, I was terrified I was going to get that headache I had after the last chemo on Friday, so I took all four animals on Thursday. Thank God for Scarlet Nicely. She met me down there and basically did everything for me. I was little help that day because my dearly beloved Scotty (aka Mangy) decided to jump over my shoulder while I was trying to hold back 150 lbs of Labrador retrievers and take a tour of the greater Selma area. Grrrr. I had a cold. I was grumpy and I had a dog running through Selma. Suffice it to say, I was pissed. I got the labs in the vet and I went back to chase Scotty all over creation while Scarlet took care of my three dogs inside the office. I could see him and hear him but he just wouldn’t come to me. He was exploring.  Finally, he was about 20 feet from me and I tried to approach him and he ran. I stopped and I knelt down and I honest to goodness said, “Ok God, I cannot chase that dog any longer. I need him to walk over here to me so we can get this finished or I’m going to leave his mangy ass in Selma.”  And guess what happened next? He walked right over to me and I picked him up and carried him in.  Not too many minutes later, all dogs got a clean bill of health and all needed shots. When it was time to check out, I was informed that there was no charge today. Either Dr. Emily Graham has a huge heart or she has some good footage of me running through Selma in my snotty nose, toboggan head chasing Scotty that she’s going to hock on the black market! Highlands Veterinary Clinic. She’s the best.

The very next day…

My son Riley is going to the prom. Well let me backtrack. I have said all along that he would decide the week before prom that he was going and expect me to whip out my needle and thread and make him a tuxedo fit for a king.  I have told him repeatedly that he needed to go down and get measured for his tux so it could be ordered.  Finally I texted my friend Erin who owns The Flower Center in Clifton Forge. “What is the deadline for ordering tuxes for prom?” Her answer was “SOON!”  I sent Riley down that day to be measured. I tried to get him to go in between his governor’s school and high school but turns out when you are a 17 year old boy, nothing comes between you and lunch. And I mean NOTHING.  He didn’t have practice that day though, so he went down after school.  I got another text from Erin that said, “Don’t send money. This is on me. I can’t do much but I can do tuxes!”  I honestly just sit back and shake my head. Then I cry. Lots and lots of shaking my head and crying these days.

Someone handed my dad money at his neighborhood watch meeting this week. He told him to give it to me for my expenses.  He told him he didn’t even have to tell me who it was from.  My dad does a lot of head shaking and crying, too.

Yesterday I was cleaning out the fridge—emptying out old leftovers into the garbage disposal.  I had some leftover strawberry sauce and leftover jambalaya and some dessert from Easter (moldy much?)  I’m dumping and hitting the disposal switch and I pulled the cap off of the drain and it’s not draining and I look over and it’s coming into the other side of the sink. I yelled at Kevin and he said “Oh Lord the bathroom sink is full of jambalya!” OMG GROSS!  Let’s just say the chemo hasn’t had my lunch coming up, but scrubbing pulverized jambalaya out of my beadboard with a toothbrush just about did! Well Kevin took everything apart and cleaned out everything and didn’t see anything major. He put everything back together and said, “You should be good to go now.” So I ran some water and it didn’t drain out. Lovely.  So then he sent me to the store for Draino and that didn’t work either. So this morning we were trying to decide how to proceed. Last night I had decided I would probably need to just call a plumber. Kevin is working nights this week and we are out of our normal rhythm (if we ever had a normal rhythm.)  This morning I got up and Tiffany Sanders with Chapman Plumbing had sent me a message that they would be sending somebody out here to fix my clogged drain. Another gift from them to me. More head shaking and crying.

I could go ON AND ON AND ON because you guys have NO IDEA how much goodness has been sent my way.  Not only does all of this humble me and open my heart and comfort me, but it also causes me to reflect on the person I have been and the person I want to be.  I love, I care, but not enough. I want to be BETTER.  I want to be like Tricia Wolfe Meador and Judy Westerman who have sent me a card faithfully every single week since I found out I had cancer.  I want to be like Bron Hendrickson who has texted me every single night since my diagnosis. I want to be like Deana who has been with me to every single appointment I have had. I want to be more giving. And I’m truly going to work on that.

I was at the ballpark this weekend and I was talking to Coach Nolan’s mom, Sandy. We were talking about back in the day when there were just the two fields down there. She pointed over to the tall set of bleachers by the first field and she told me that when Nolan was nine, he fell up in the top of those bleachers and blood was flying everywhere. He broke his front tooth in that fall. She said, “You know I carried him all the way down those bleachers by myself and him that big and I don’t know how in the world I did that.” I said, “You did it because he was your world and you had to do it.”  Call it adrenaline, call it intuition, call it fight or flight. Psalm 139:14 is one of my favorite verses. “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”  How cool is it that we have that fight built in us?  I think a lot of people going through cancer feel just like Sandy. We wonder how in the world we did that but we are able to do it because that’s the only choice. 

Thank you to everyone who is in my corner. I’m going to get this baby down the stairs. 

In War, There Are No Unwounded Soldiers

Every year before Veterans Day, I always love to put the following message on the church sign:  “In war, there are no unwounded soldiers.” (Jose Narosky) I believe that wholeheartedly.  Even if you go to battle and come home in one piece, without so much as a scratch or bruise on you, you are no longer the same person.

Today was a lazy day for me. I probably should’ve gotten dressed and gone to work, but I was lazy. I stayed in my pajamas most of the day and just rested. I threw a chicken pot pie in the oven and actually had dinner ready when Kevin and Papi got home! I thought Kevin would fall out because I don’t think I have cooked dinner one single time since my diagnosis. I just kind of shut down. Kevin stepped in and started doing EVERYTHING—the laundry, the dishes, the cooking, the cleaning—all of it. I think it’s for two reasons. Number one, he wants me to relax and focus on getting well and number two, if he stays completely busy, he doesn’t have time for any negative thoughts to show up. He’s too tired when he finally sits down to think.

Natalie had a softball game this evening. I hopped in the car and stopped by Whitey’s. I wanted a cup of coffee and the boys wanted some snacks. The lady working at Whitey’s told me she was praying for me. I got back in the car and I thought to myself, “Today I am getting coffee from Whitey’s and tomorrow I am going to be sitting in a chair getting chemotherapy for cancer.” 

Life will never be the same. Even if I walked in tomorrow and they said “You’re cured!” life would never be the same again.

“In war, there are no unwounded soldiers.”

We loaded up and headed to the ballpark. I wrapped up like an Eskimo because it was cold out there this evening! Several friends stopped me and hugged me and told me they were thinking of me and praying for me and that I was going to kick this cancer’s butt. One friend said, “I know you’re sick of hearing this…” No. 

Yes I hear this at every turn, but I am not sick of hearing that you are thinking about me or you are praying for me. I am strengthened by that. I feel like we are all on the same team and standing together!

As the girls stepped up to the plate to bat this evening, one after the other had a pink ribbon on the back of their batting helmet. It puts a lump in your throat and a tear in your eye when you see people supporting you, but especially when you see young people in support of you. And it’s not just me they are supporting. I’m the one with breast cancer, but my kids received the diagnosis also. They have been so strong, but I’m sure they are scared also. Those pink ribbons on that softball team not only support me, but they support my daughter.

Last week, the students at Papi's school and his former elementary school held a hat day for me. They paid $1 to wear a hat and raised money to help with my expenses. I went up to the school that day and it was so amazing. Everywhere I looked, I saw hats. Lump in throat and tears again. They weren’t just supporting me, but they were supporting my 10 year old son. They were standing with me and with him and saying “We are on your team! You aren’t alone! We are fighting with you!”

Tomorrow I go to war. Life as I have known it for the last 29…ok fine…38 years will never be the same. Those three little words robbed me of the security I once felt. Before this diagnosis, I never once thought of my kids growing up without a mother. I never once thought about having a port inside of my body that would be a vessel for chemicals to be pumped through my body in an effort to save my life. Hell, I didn’t even know what a port was before this! I never thought about missing a baseball season because I couldn’t be out in public and around germs. For the last three years, I haven’t let my hairdresser cut more than an inch of my hair off. In the next couple of weeks, I will lose it by the handful until I have none left. After I have 16 weeks of chemicals pumped through my body with side effects that I don’t even want to think about, then I will undergo surgery and have my breasts removed. These are things I never thought about before this war.

“In war, there are no unwounded soldiers.”

Tomorrow I go to battle. I don’t go with an assault rifle and a grenade launcher though, but rather, I go with the complete confidence that God is there waiting on me and he will see me through. I go empowered by the support, love and prayers of my family, my friends, and my community. 

I will fight like a girl. 

I will fight like a woman. 

But most importantly, I will fight with the fury of a mama bear. 

I don’t know any battle cries so I will just have to commemorate one of my all time favorite movies and exclaim “Ya-Ya!”

-lightningbug

You Said You'd Be Here, So I Knew You Would...

Last night was a bad one. And I wasn’t going to write about it, because I don’t want anybody to see me weak, but then I wouldn’t be honest with you and I want to be honest, even if it’s not easy for me.

Yesterday I was filling out a family history form for the genetic testing (which I think is quite ridiculous anyway…if I’m paying thousands of dollars for you to do genetic testing to see if I have gene mutations for cancer, why do I have to do all the work?!) ANYWAY, I do. I have to fill out this very in depth family history. While working on this, I remembered that my aunt had given all of this to me in an email a while back. I searched through my old emails and I found the email. I also found next to that email, an email telling her that I wanted the family history because I was making an overdue gyno appointment because I had a “soreness in my left breast” and I “had even convinced myself that I felt a lump a couple of days ago” but now it’s no longer sore and I can’t feel anything so I think it was probably all in my head and was probably just a strained muscle.

I read that and I almost fell out of my chair. I didn’t even remember that! And it wasn’t something that I had even mentioned to the doctor then because I couldn’t even feel it after that.

What if… What if I would’ve told her two years ago? What if I would’ve insisted on a mammogram then?  What if this shit has been there that long? Here I thought it just popped up a month ago, but what if it’s been there for ages? What if it has take over my entire body? And I’ve read the statistics on that once it’s spread. I don’t have a snowball’s chance in Hades if it has spread. The dreaded "what ifs" that plague every one of us.

And then I got up from my desk and Oh My Gosh! My back! My lower back! I have had lower back pain for at least 10 years but at that moment I was sure that the cancer was now in my back and that’s why my back was hurting so bad.

I made it home and plopped down in the chair. I needed to go get some groceries but I was drained. And sitting in the chair felt good. Getting up felt bad, walking felt bad, bending over felt bad. Sitting and laying down felt ok.

I looked all over for the stupid heating pad and I couldn’t find it. And I kept having to bend over to look for it. Mental note: Never store a heating pad where you have to bend over to get it because if your back is hurting, that really doesn’t feel great.

Never did find the heating pad, but I finally found a heated throw and turned it up on high and laid on that. It was better than nothing. I laid back and I began to sob. It was just the culmination of everything. It was the realization that this may have been there longer than I thought and the danger that goes along with that, it was the feeling of despair and fear, it was thinking of how people think I’m so positive and I’m just a big, fat fraud. And then on top of all of that, my stupid back decided to stop working! I was crying so hard that I thought I was going to hyperventilate.

My sweet boy and I were the only ones at home at this time and he walked in on me. He said he heard me and asked what was wrong. I did what any good mother in that situation would do. I lied like a dog. I told him I had been reading something and it made me cry. Which technically I have been reading all kinds of things that have made me cry, but that wasn’t the full truth at that moment. He looked up and he gave me a hug and kiss and then went back to watching something on his iPad.

I want to be like him. I want to be child-like and not have this fear inside of me.

I was supposed to have lunch with him one time at school. As usual, I was running late. I ran in right at the last minute and I said, “Oh my gosh! Did you think I had forgotten?!” He calmly replied, “No, I knew you’d be here. You said you’d be here so I knew you would.”

That’s faith. He has complete faith in me. “You said you’d be here so I knew you would.”

Through this journey, I need to remember that statement.

When I think for a minute that God isn’t with me, I need to remember “You said you’d be here so I knew you would.”

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble—aka 

“You said you’d be here so I knew you would.” 

It could be the school cafeteria or cancer.

My husband has had a hard couple of days also. It’s not just me who got the cancer diagnosis. He got it too. And our kids. And our family and our friends and our community. We all got it.

I don’t know what it’s like to be married to someone with cancer. Hell, that may be harder than having cancer. He has to try to be strong for me and the kids and he has to keep going to work and be proficient in his job and then come home and help with everything at home and then he sees me in my bedroom crying into a pillow. And he has to put on a brave face and put all of his feelings on hold to lift me back up.

Last night my friends stepped up and encouraged me when I was in that dark place. They prayed hard for me and they sent me pictures of survivors (one of the pictures was me.) They calmed my fears and told me that cancer could not jump around like lice and fleas and spread when I told them I was CERTAIN that has already happened. I had some sweet peas come to my door last night with flowers and cupcakes!

See, I told you I’m not the brave one here. You guys can’t see because you are on that side, but you are the brave ones. YOU are holding me up.

Keep up the good work.

-lightningbug

Haunted House Bravery

The last few days have been so long and exhausting. The support I have received has been overwhelming, to say the least. I have had my nose in my phone or laptop for four straight days because I have SO MANY friends and family who are cheering me on!

And when my friends and family send me a message or bare their soul to me, “thanks” just doesn’t seem quite adequate. It doesn’t even begin to convey what the hugs and prayers and well wishes and the insight have meant to me in the beginning of this journey. I have tried to reply with my heart, but honestly, there isn't enough time in the day. I will eventaully get back to each of you though! I promise!

I have cancer. That still creeps me out to say, so when it creeps you guys out to think about it, don’t worry! I’m totally right there with you!  Nothing else has changed about me though. I am still going to sit in the bleachers with you and laugh about everything under the sun and I’m still going to cuss because I still cuss and I’m still going to drink like 14 cups of coffee a day. I'm still just me.

You can talk to me openly and honest about my cancer or how that girl at the fair last night could’ve really benefitted from a hot oil treatment. We can take it either way. Everybody (including my kids) knows I have cancer now. That’s the way it had to be because that’s how I roll. So you don’t have to worry that you are saying something wrong or something that you shouldn’t. I almost posted a pic of the enormously disgusting bruise on my boob from the biopsy the other day. THAT’S how open I want to be with you. In a year or two, some young woman will get that horrible news that I did on Friday, but she won’t have all of the support that I do, and she will feel alone and hopeless and she is going to stumble on this blog and she is going to laugh and cry but she is going to walk away with hope and know she is not alone.

There’s no rule book that comes along with this. You can say what you feel comfortable with saying. If hugging me and saying you love me and you are praying for me and asking me about my upcoming doctor’s appointments is what you want to do, then do that; if asking me about my son’s upcoming baseball season is what you want to do, then do that. I have cancer, not cooties, so don’t be afraid to treat me just like you did last week before you knew. Yes, I need support and yes I love hugs and yes I love that! Someone hugged me over the weekend and said, “I know you’re probably getting sick of this…” NOOOO! Never would I ever get sick of that! And in five years when I’m completely healthy and even more fabulous that I can possibly imagine, you better still hug me and say, “Man, we kicked that cancer’s ass.”

Because love and support doesn’t have to be confined to hardship.

Everybody keeps telling me how brave and strong I am. I’m really not brave or strong. Yes I have a positive attitude because that’s just who I am, but I’m not brave and strong. My friends and family are brave and strong and I draw my strength and bravery from them.

We were at a haunted house last Halloween and I hadn’t been to a haunted house since I was a kid. My husband said, “You just have to be scarier than they are.” So he would come around the corners and he would scare the ghosts and the bloody zombies before they could scare us and we did more laughing than being scared.

That’s kind of how I feel about all of this. I’m not sure I’m actually brave or strong, but I plan on creeping around the corners and scaring the hell out of cancer before it can scare me.

Yesterday morning I got the call with my first two appointments. I have my MRI on March 9^th and I see my doctor on March 11^th. That was the week that I was supposed to go to Baltimore. My husband had training for work and I was going to tag along and spend my days in the hotel room in my bathrobe binge watching Netflix while he was at class and then we would have the evenings to hang out at the Inner Harbor (one of my absolute favorite places.) In our almost 18 years of marriage, we have gone away without kids once. This would’ve made twice. Instead, of Maryland crab cakes and relaxation, I will be in an MRI capsule and then discussing how to proceed with cancer treatment.

And yes, that sucks. And yes, I’m a little bitter. And cancer better be glad that it’s not baseball season and the Orioles weren’t in town or things could’ve gotten really ugly, really quickly.

Yesterday afternoon I got another call from Roanoke and this time it was to set up my appointment for genetic testing. Who knew? So I go this Friday for genetic testing.

And somebody will read this who doesn’t know that I am adopted. Yes, I am adopted. I found my biological family in 2013. Not only did finding my biological family give me a second, incredible family and support system, but it also gave me my family history. I know that I have an aunt who had breast cancer pre-menopausal (age 46.) I will be tested to see if I have a gene mutation that makes me more susceptible to breast and ovarian cancer. This testing also will reveal how the cancer is fed.

From brestcancer.org:  Breast cancers in women with BRCA1 abnormalities are more likely to be estrogen-receptor-negative — meaning that the cancer’s growth is not fueled by the hormone estrogen — and to have “high-grade” cell growth. Both of these characteristics mean that chemotherapy will be more effective than hormonal (anti-estrogen) therapy in treating these cancers.
BRCA1- and BRCA2-related cancers often test negative for overexpression of the gene known as HER2/neu. This genetic abnormality is not inherited, as BRCA1 and BRCA2 mutations are, but can develop in women over time. When the HER2 gene is overexpressed, the cancer cells have too many HER2 receptors (human epidermal growth factor receptor). HER2 receptors receive signals that stimulate the growth of breast cancer cells. HER2-positive breast cancer is considered to be a more aggressive form of the disease, but it can be treated with Herceptin (chemical name: trastuzumab), a medication that targets HER2. Most BRCA1- and BRCA2-related cancers cannot be treated with Herceptin because they are HER2-negative.

If you’re like me, you probably zoned out halfway through reading that like a college freshman in a biology class, but basically through this testing, they will be able to tell if I have the genetic mutation and they will also be able to tell what treatment will be most effective.

www.breastcancer.org is a super great and informative website. I have done way more research there than I ever imagined I would.

This week, several breast cancer survivors have stepped up and contacted me. I am a writer and I can’t even express what that has meant to me. All of my friends and family have shown me the most immense love—but to have people who have lived this hell to talk to you and walk you through the dark valleys—that is more than I can describe. 

-lightningbug