731 days

Two years ago I received a phone call that would start me on a journey that would change my life and have a profound affect on my family and friends.  Today, I'm 731 days closer to living the rest of my life cancer free.

It's been 731 days since I was diagnosed with cancer.

I've had 3 surgeries

15 rounds of chemo (and 16 months of chemoprevention with 32 to go)

I've taken a leave of absence from work and returned to full time

Saw my daughter graduate high school, and complete her first year of college.

Lost 25 pounds and gained it back again.

Lost my hair and grew it back again.

Lost my father

Lost my friend

Found a friend I thought I'd lost

Had my basement remodeled

Had my breasts remodeled

Strengthened my body

Strengthened my mind

Strengthened my relationship with my daughter

Written 45 blog posts

Said countless prayers

And been immensely grateful for each day that I am here.


In our lives we will have good days, and bad days;
tough times and easy times;
peace and chaos.

And we can find purpose in all of it, if we seek to find it.

2 years ago I received a phone call that would start me on a journey that would change my life ... and today my life is the better for it.

October is upon us

Short and sweet - October is upon us, and October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. 

1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer in her lifetime, but the good news is that today breast cancer, when caught in the early stages, is highly treatable and no longer has to be a death sentence.  

The problem is, you can't catch breast cancer in the early stages if you aren't having your regular screenings.

Two years ago I went in for a regular (albeit a few months late) mammogram, just as I had done for the last 10 years.  And it is because I had gone in regularly, that the radiologist was able to detect the subtle changes in the breast tissue that led to my diagnosis.  Did you catch that last part?  "Subtle changes" - not glaringly huge mass or lump, but subtle changes in the image on the mammogram.  The cancer was actually 3 cm in diameter, but was so deep into my chest that it was only detectable as subtle changes in the density of the tissue.  It would have gone unnoticed by me for many months - long enough to further invade my lymphatic system and spread to other areas of my body.   Long enough to become stage 4 and give me only a 15% chance at a 5 year survival.

But I'm here today... and I plan on being here for many many years to come.  And each year as October begins I will ask you the same question:  Ladies - have you had your mammograms?  

In memory

On Sept 23rd 2010, my childhood friend Laurel Maki, forever Laurie to me, died from breast cancer.  It's been 3 years and a lifetime ago.

Laurie lost her mother to breast cancer when we were seniors in high school, and when she died she left 3 boys - the youngest still in high school.

Laurie was a warrior - a true fighter in the war against breast cancer.  She battled, survived, battled, survived and finally, ever so finally, lost her battle.

Over 230,000 people will be diagnosed with breast cancer in 2013; that's second only to prostate cancer.  But thanks to the high visibility which organizations like Susan G Komen, and warriors like Laurie have brought to this disease, breast cancer is caught earlier, treated more effectively and survived far more often.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

No excuses

I spent the weekend in Grand Marais, where I met a number of people who were living in different extremes of being "off the grid".  

One woman took "off the grid" to new heights.  She lives in a small cabin in the woods with no electricity or running water.  She uses propane for lights, which sounds like the most modern thing she has.  Not living on a lake, she hauls water and washes using a traditional wash basin.  

Another man left the cities 20 years ago to pursue his passion - drawing.  He makes absolutely beautiful pen and ink drawings - some on paper, some on birch bark.  He has a small home, works making signs for local shops, and sells his drawings and occasional water colors every weekend with other town artists and craftsman in the town square.

What struck me with both of these individuals was the sense that I was talking to someone completely content with their life.  I was impressed with their dedication to living the life they truly wanted.  In awe of their willingness to take that leap.  And curious about the days and years leading up to the point when they just made the move.  

Did they have a plan, or did they just leap?  Did they set their sights on other goals, that would position them for this complete departure from our 20th century fast-paced life or did they throw caution to the wind, letting the chips... and their future... fall where they may? 

And does it mean because I am laying the groundwork, working the plan that will take me into the next phase of my life where I can do more of the things I've dreamt of doing, that I'm not living the life I want?

I don't think so.  I think that I am living the life I want to live.  The life my choices have led me to.
  
Like everyone else, I don't get to chose all the things that life throws my way, but I do chose my response.  I chose to be a mother, by far one of the best choices I made.  I chose what kind of daughter I wanted to be, what kind of friend and what kind of person I wanted to be.  And sometimes, those choices being most important to me, I chose to re-prioritize some of my goals, knowing that it was possible that being the kind of parent, daughter, friend, person I wanted to be might mean that some of those other goals might have to take a back-seat, or might never be realized at all.  

But I'm okay with that -  because at the end of the day, I am truly living the life I want to live.  And I haven't let go of my dreams and my goals... I've just put them in the right priority for me.  

I would like to write a book... or two.  I would like to go back to school, become a therapist and use what I've experienced to help others.  I would like to travel more with my daughter.  

Too often we get in the mind set that if we haven't realized our goals, then we aren't living the life we want - but the truth is, each decision we make reflects the life we want.  And when we really want to make something different happen in our lives, we will be willing to take the steps necessary to do so and we will prioritize doing them above other things that would otherwise stand in our way.

And there will be no excuses. 

If you don't have the life you want or don't want the life you have - then the choice is all yours: you can change your mind, or change your life.

in a rut

It is fair to say that as humans we tend to be creatures of habit. In fact, I'd guess that 80% of my day is a near clone of the day before.  

I get up, say good morning to the dog and start making her breakfast.  I put the dog out and begin making a cup of tea while the dog, done doing what she was sent outside to do, begins her morning ritual of saying good morning to the neighborhood dogs.  I whistle for the dog to come in, she ignores me until she gets at least one responding "woof" from a pal, then she comes in.  I give her her breakfast, grab my cup of tea and go take a shower.  I get dressed and begin the process of covering up the dark circles under my eyes with what can only be called skin-toned putty.   If I'm lucky, I remember to dab on a little blush and mascara before the dog starts whining to go back outside.  I let the dog out, make a fresh cup of tea, or coffee if the circles under my eyes are particularly dark.  I put my phone in my bag, whistle for the dog to come in, give her a treat and head out the door.  

I repeat that routine, and many others throughout the day, each and every day.  Occasionally  there's a variation, like I might skip the tea or more likely, the makeup, but for the most part, the routine stays intact.  

And that, my dear ones, is the problem.  

You would think after hitting the land mines I've hit over the last year that a permanent detour would be not only necessary, but easy to find and even easier to take, but that's just not the case.  Despite the rather large impact this past year has had, I trudge right back onto the familiar road, as instinctually as though I were sleep walking.  

Little changes, like waking up each day aware and grateful for another day, have been easy additions to my routine.  But the big changes, the ones I promised myself I would make, the habits I promised myself I would break, those have not been so easy.  

It's hard to change four decades of behavior in 12 months.  I can change them for a day, a week, or even months... but under stress, things just bounce back to where they were like a well trained boomerang.

Stress not only etches lines in our faces, but it etches ruts into our daily life; and bad habits are as difficult to erase as the wrinkles across our face.  But we have a choice about what we let cause us stress and what we chose to let bounce.  And we have a choice about how we handle stress that we can't avoid, like the death of a loved one or the challenges of a serious illness.  Stress is a part of life, and life, when you really live it, has its ups and downs.  And we, we are either on the ride or we are off it.   

This morning I woke up and jumped on the treadmill, something I've been pushing myself to do regularly since my last surgery at the end of January.  Before all the craziness began in January, I was exercising daily, and was up to an hour of walking.  But after these last few months, exercising at night just wasn't working for me.  By the time I get home I'm exhausted (who'd have thought sitting in a chair all day would wear me out!) and when I'm tired it's hard to be motivated to exercise, so I fall back into my old routines.  

I need to change things up.  Since my energy is highest in the morning, I decided I would attempt to get up early and exercise.  I had to find the motivation though, because I know that when the alarm goes off I will want to curl up in my comforter and hit snooze.  So I gave myself a visual to focus on.  

The visual I use is a photo of my daughter with my friend Wendy.  I took the photo last summer, when they were taking senior pictures and I was standing off to the side watching.  It's a candid shot of two of the people who mean the most to me.  When I think of this picture I am reminded how fortunate I am to be here, how easily my path could have followed Wendy's and how we never ever dreamed a year ago that one of us would be gone.  But I am also reminded of the hope for the future that see when I look at my daughter and how I what I want more than anything is to be on this earth long enough to see my daughter grow old, to be there to support her as she raises her family and charts her own path in this world.  I want to be here to cheer her successes, support her in the tough times, and to be an active participant in her life, but I know that won't happen if I don't attend to my health.  And when I fall back on old habits, I'm not attending to my health.  

So I'll push a little harder and a whole lot longer, and I'll do my best to get out of the rut.  And maybe, just maybe, that will mean less wrinkles on my face - and won't that be nice too.  

A Repost from Caring Bridge

The following is a repost from my last Caring Bridge journal entry; if you follow both my blog and my caringbridge, thank you, and my apologies for the redundancy:

I guess it took me a little more than a day to provide an update, rest assured, I am well.  Surgery went smoothly as did my recovery and I will return to work shortly.  Sadly though, my dear friend Wendy's health continued to deteriorate as I recovered.  

Wendy left this world yesterday; she will be greatly missed.

Cancer is cruel, it swoops in like a tornado, taking one person and leaving the next, sometimes broken and battered, sometimes with all the appearance of being untouched on the outside, but still shaken to the core on the inside.

And it seems each week I learn of another friend, colleague or relative that has been diagnosed with some form of cancer.  I suppose it's my age, and the fact that incidents of cancer spike during these "middle age" years, but it still seems that the prevalence is growing.  And it makes me wonder .... what is all this cancer trying to tell us?

Pollution, processed foods, stress, obesity, smoking, lack of exercise, lack of sleep, lack of balance; we know that all these things contribute to our likelihood of getting cancer.  

I don't think God intended for us to have cancer; but God gave us free will and the decisions we have made and the decisions made by those that came before us have led us to this place of rampant cancer.  

But as with the rest of life's challenges, God is by our side when we engage in battle with cancer; and he stays by our side until the end.  Wendy knew that, and it is in that knowledge that we find comfort.  That those we love never really leave us, they have simply gone ahead and will greet us when it is our turn to walk, with Christ by our side, into eternal life. 

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son; that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.

a new journey

I'm writing this post from my Dad's room, where I've been camped out since last friday when he went on hospice care.  Dad's been growing steadily weaker over the last 3 years, but he surprised us all when he rallied in the face of my cancer.

I think it's fair to say he was frustrated and felt he wasn't able to be there for me, but he did the most important thing... he rallied.  

It was as if my illness gave him the strength to stay healthy and strong, because he knew that it would be hard on me if he became sick or injured and I couldn't be there for him. So, he rallied.

This fall he began commenting on how long my hair was getting and that I was looking healthier and I think he knew then that the time had come when he could rest.  That he didn't need to rally for me any more.  And so, it began... the new journey.

Over the last few months he has become more and more weak.  It became difficult for him to find the right words, difficult to talk, difficult to walk, difficult to eat.  So, now it is my turn to rally.  

He's not speaking any more, nor is he walking or eating.  It's time for his body to rest.
But oh the journey his soul is embarking on.  Even in my sadness, I find joy in thinking of the wonderful journey he is about to take.  It's one he's planned for his whole life, and one for which he can leave all baggage behind.  

And as I sit by his side, I become ready to see him set sail; sad, because I will miss him; but rejoicing in knowing that his burden will be lighter for the road ahead.