Hitting the bottom

Yesterday, I clearly hit the bottom of my emotional barrel.  I spent nearly three years begging my ex to "pick me, pick me" and now I'm feeling it with my kids.  I don't mean that I want them to pick me over their dad.  They need us both.  But right now, my ego needs them to want me.


I am also my own worst critic.  Aren't we all?  Despite the fact that I rail against society for the "what do you DO all day?" nonsense against stay at home moms, I am the worst when it comes to that for myself.  I look around my house and wonder, what am I spending my time on?  I know that I waste time.  I know that I "should" be doing more (you know, like the laundry that is piling up again)...


But the piece that I frequently choose to ignore, is that I am chemically depressed.  There may or may not be physical/chemical components to this stemming from health concerns that haven't been addressed.  What I do know is that some days it is a miracle if I can do the bare minimum.  I'm talking kid to school, homework done, lunch packed, other kid fed.  If the best I can do from there is put on movies and snuggle my baby, that's the best I can do.  I know I do my best.  And sometimes that means I can pick myself up by my bootstraps and not fall on my face.  Other times I simply cannot.  Yesterday and today, I could not.  But where do I go from there?  And does that mean I'm best for my kids?


Today was better than yesterday.  By far.  I only got mad once and it was because my big kid hit my little kid.  Otherwise I stayed calm and steady, even in moments of frustration.  Because with two kids under five who have BIG personalities, there are many, MANY moments of frustration.


All I can think is I must truly be depressed if thinking my children would be better off with anyone other than me.  But that right there my friends is the crux of the problem.  Wouldn't anyone be better off with anyone other than me?

Cancer Update

I just realized that I never posted the update regarding my biopsy!  I don't have cancer!  lol  Hopefully you assumed that since I wasn't writing at all.  I did have to have a biopsy.  I went in, brought my dad with me for moral support, and of course they were ridiculously behind so we waited... and waited.... and waited...  Once they brought me in they informed me that they were going to try to simply aspirate the "mass" because they believed it was fat.  This is the difference between a pretty solid mass and a not so solid mass from what I can tell.  They can aspirate something that is not so solid, but if it is solid they need to do a core needle biopsy and leave a tracker so they know where they were.  Well in my case they were able to aspirate the whole thing!  The doctor looked at the "mass" in the tube, looked at me and said "it's fat.  I still have to send it in, but it's fat"... I got the call and yes indeed, it was totally and completely benign.  They barely even had to put a bandaid on the spot they poked.


So although life continues to be completely and totally insane for me, it is not my health that is an issue.  Hooray!  And I even get to wait a full year before my next MRI.  Good news all around.

Jane- get me off this crazy thing!

I seem to be living on a roller coaster.  Just when I think I've reached the end, I discover there is yet another hill to climb, with the twists and turns ahead unseen.  Will it be a simple drop?  Will my life throw me upside down?  All I know is to hang on tight and trust.


Today I had my ultrasound.  The procedure itself took maybe 10 minutes at most, but the appointment took approximately 2.5 hours.  Most of that time was spent waiting.  Waiting at the doctors is bad enough, but add in what us survivors call "scanxiety" and you've got a rough chunk of time.  As soon as the techs came back into my room and said "the radiologist will meet with you but she wanted me to do a quick scan of your armpit" (to look for lymphnode concerns), I knew the news wasn't "all clear."  So I was braced for our conversation.


Finally after probably an hour in their freezing waiting room (where they were out of hot water so I couldn't even make tea) I was called in.  The doctor informed me that she thinks it is just fat necrosis and/or scar tissue (normal for my type of reconstruction... or really anyone who has had surgeries).  She isn't worried, but they have to biopsy it to be totally sure.


I said that I figured I would have to have a biopsy, so I was somewhat already prepared for that.  But the "what" of the biopsy has really thrown me for a loop.  I thought it was on my left side, due to the "noise" they saw last year.  It wasn't.  Then I thought it was something new on the right side- a "mass" that had been in existence and grown.  I'm unclear here.  Then I thought it wasn't that but in fact a lymphnode that had changed size.  It isn't that either.  Now I am back to thinking it is a mass, sort of.  On the original cancer side.  But if it existed previously, no one thought it was worth examining.  That doesn't seem likely to me.  So understanding how they typically deal with me, the best I can understand is that this is something that didn't exist before, and now does.  It looks on the images like fat necrosis or scar tissue from surgery.  None of my doctors are worried.  But we have to biopsy it to be 100% sure that there is in fact nothing to worry about.


Meanwhile I am mentally preparing to sell my house.  Making a list of all the million and one things I need to accomplish (paint, clean, pack, replace fire alarms, etc) and at the same time look for a new house to buy.  I had been looking at one out near my sister for awhile.  Today the kids and I drove by it (well, sort of).  Turns out it is up an epic hill.  I didn't feel safe taking my silly minivan all the way up the driveway so we only sort of glimpsed at what we think was the house.  And it isn't something I could deal with every day.  I know it is silly but it disappointed me.  I trust that we will end up in the right place, but it is a scary process.  I care less about the house than I did the first time I did this.  It can be a cosmetic disaster and that is fine with me as long as it is functional.  But the location is really important since I could be in the house till my kids are grown at least.  Alone no less.


And really, that is what all of this comes down to.  I am feeling really alone.  I have amazing friends and family.  I know the support is there, but I miss what I believed I had.  A partner in my corner.  Someone who was sharing life's trials and tribulations with me.  Someone whose hand I could grab, or would laugh with me when those great roller coaster moments hit.  The fact is that I didn't really have that.  I thought I did, and may have at one point, but it has been years since that person was there.  I've been alone for a great deal longer than I have actually been alone.  Still, it doesn't really change the feeling of loss.  Even if I'd never really had it, I believed that I did and I miss that feeling.


I am tired.  Worn out, beat down, exhausted.  And what is worse, is within all of this, I am feeling the love and appreciation for the house I am in.  The home that was created here.  The neighbors I trust and know.  I know it is time to move on, but that makes my heart ache too.  I am just ready for life to hand me a lollipop instead of lemons.  I make a mean lemonade, but I seem to be running out of sugar....

Picked up and Dusted off

Well the cancer scare got worse before it got better. I called to make my ultrasound appointment, heard the word "mass" and in reference to the original cancer side, and then had to go through all of the reports with my doctors office to figure out that in fact what we are looking into isn't the "noise" they saw on the MRI a year ago, nor a "mass" but in fact a lymph node that they have been watching from the beginning and has a propensity to change sizes.  I won't get into the nitty gritty but essentially now I'm not worried.  I still have to have an ultrasound on Tuesday, and welcome your thoughts and prayers for nothing to be found, but also feel confident that it was enlarged due to the nasty infection I had fought only a week prior.


Still, this week beat me down.  The cancer scare, the ex and his girlfriend, and finally meeting with real estate agents to discuss the sale of my home, was a lot of emotional weight to manage.  By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I crashed and crashed hard. 


Gratefully this weekend was full of sweetness and blessings.  We spent Saturday morning playing at the pool with friends.  Then my kids noni arrived and we enjoyed lunch together and a quiet afternoon and evening.  I love this woman and am so incredibly grateful to have her in my life.  Sunday we enjoyed a visit to the farmers market where the kids were spoiled with waffles and jumpy houses and pony rides, and then it was family dinner and Bella's preschool graduation.  I know, preschool graduation is so silly, but so so adorable.  I loved every second of it.  My girl was so happy and strong and confident.  She loved being celebrated by her family and I loved it too.


So although this summer has a lot of work in store for me (I really really hate moving) I can't wait to move on from my "family" home to a new home that is untouched by the pain of the past.  I can't wait to get my kids settled into kindergarten and preschool and watch them grow and thrive.  I can't wait to figure out who I am and who I want to be.  To find things in my life that are just mine to support my kids.  To find a rhythm and beauty to our new life.  I find new strength in myself every day and am so incredibly grateful for the amazing people I carry in my heart.  So no, cancer, divorce, betrayal, moving... None of you get to break me.  I am a survivor.

exhausted

I had great intentions of going to bed early tonight.  I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night and have a lot on my plate tomorrow.  I should already be asleep for that matter.  But the truth is, I am emotionally wounded.  I am beat down, ground to a pulp, exhausted.  I have been working incredibly hard to just keep myself afloat.  To slowly climb out of the emotional hell I have been in for the last 2-3 years... no strike that, the last 5 years.  Battling a natural inclination for depression and anxiety is hard enough, add on the challenging early years of children, cancer, betrayal by affair, and finally divorce, and I'm lucky I still have a smile on my face most days.  I have minor wounds attacking me daily.  My kids talking incessantly about their dad and his girlfriend.  Struggling to stay on top of the never ending housework with no one in the house to participate.  Quiet nights when my kids have gone to bed and all I want is someone to snuggle with and watch some mindless entertainment.  Hearing about friends date nights with their spouses.  It is all those little things that add up to a dull ache in my heart and an awful lot of loneliness.  But I push through because I know it isn't forever.  And my kids deserve a happy mommy, even if it is happy but alone.  So I push forward.  I am looking for a job, despite wanting to give my time to my kids.  I am selling my house despite knowing that keeping it would be a better financial decision to stay in the long term.  I trust that there is a light at the end of the tunnel of this process, because, well, there has to be.  And then I am dealt yet another blow.  A suspicious MRI that will result in a biopsy, either via ultrasound or MRI.  Best case, they see nothing on ultrasound or mammogram and I have to move on to an MRI guided biopsy which is apparently really uncomfortable for the patient.  Worst case, they see something on ultrasound and do the biopsy the "easy" way (which still hurts quite a bit) but pretty much would be indicative of cancer.  I'm doing my very best to not future trip about the possibility of cancer.  The fact is that whatever it will be, it already is.  I have no control over it, and worrying will only make this process more hellish.  But even without the possibility of this being a really big deal, just the process of making sure it isn't a really big deal is pretty awful.  One more thing on top of an already full plate, particularly when it comes to my emotional load.  A true partner would be such a huge benefit right now, because that is when sorrow shared is less.  But I am my own partner for now and will utilize the amazing friends and community I have in my life as I can.  I trust that no matter what, best case or worst case, I will survive and ultimately thrive in this crazy crazy life I'm living.

Post Surgery Update

I had started writing this post earlier this week but never made it back to it, so I'm starting from scratch!

Surgery was about a week and a half ago now.  The process didn't exactly start out as expected.  We had been expecting surgery to go for about 4-6 hours (and in fact my surgeon had indicated he thought it would be in the 5 hour range for me).  Well it ended up taking 7 hours.  Then as I was slowly waking up in the recovery room, I hear my doctor talking about my blood flow numbers.  Apparently there was an area in the tissue transplant that wasn't receiving adequate blood flow. So he turned me straight around and took me back in for another 2 hours.  Yep, that would be 9 total hours of surgery.  I was rough by the time I made it back to my room to be sure.  Sore throat, sore body, and drugged.  My mom, dad, sister, brother in law, niece and husband were waiting for me when I arrived at my room.  I think I scared them a little. =)  Nick knew I was in rough shape and could see I was worried about the night, so promised to return early the next morning.  Gratefully I had a wonderful night nurse who really did make all the difference to me in that difficult first night. She was kind, funny, and on top of caring for me.  She even made sure to get me a massage through the complimentary service for cancer patients for that next morning.

Aside from the fact that it is quite literally impossible to get a good nights sleep (or even a nice nap for that matter) in a hospital, my recovery went decently well.  The first couple of days were rough since they wanted me to work towards getting up and moving and my body was just not there yet.  But by day three I was working well towards their goals, and could have even been released half a day early if I'd wanted.  But I knew I wasn't quite ready to manage myself at home and my family definitely wasn't ready to have me home unable to easily make it to the restroom on my own. One more night was perfect.

I arrived home on Saturday and was doing surprisingly well.  After feeling like the bionic woman with an IV, central line (that's an IV in your neck), catheter, leg pumps, blood pressure cuff, oxygen/pulse monitor, blood flow monitor, Doppler monitor, and five drains, I miraculously went home with only two drains in my body. I could walk quite well and wasn't feeling too much pain.

So now, here I am one week post release and feeling good.  I'm weaning myself off pain meds and trying to walk more.  Unfortunately both of those things have left me a little more sore. But my energy and strength seem to be really good.  Also, I'm really happy with my physical results from surgery so far.  Of course I won't know the full results for awhile as the swelling goes down and my body adjusts and heals, but I feel good and like what I see so far.  My doctor also seems happy with the results and several of the nurses told me how great he is (I heard perfectionist used several times). In my opinion, no one knows better than the nurses who work with (and after) the surgeons.

Onward and upward from here! I've been pleasantly surprised at how good I've felt so far.  The trick will be to avoid overdoing it.  I think I may be dealing with that a little bit right now. I am grateful I did what work I could in advance of surgery to strengthen my muscles as I am feeling the benefit of it now.  I just have to keep my focus on eating well (and the sugar/carb cravings I've been having this week are definitely not helping!) and slowly advancing towards getting my body back into motion. I think it may also be time to look into the writing challenge I've been wanting to do.  Something a little more productive than watching trashy tv and movies! lol

The best part of all is that I am starting to experience a little sensation of emotional closure on cancer.  I didn't expect that to be the case for me, but as I "get my body back" I do feel that I am walking away from that process. And so begins 2014- the year of Karey. ;)

Pinktober

We are two thirds done with Pinktober, aka breast cancer awareness month.  I used to feel really good every October, participating in a local benefit, buying pink things, and usually remembering to do a couple of self exams.  Now, as a survivor, I experience a level of anxiety and aggravation everywhere I go.  I am reminded daily (or more) of the monster I still carry on my back.  I can't shake the fear and worry about my own health for the future.  I also struggle with the increasing "overawareness" of this disease.  Cancer, particularly breast cancer, is BIG business.  People make so incredibly much money off of something that nearly destroyed me and my family and takes wonderful, amazing women out every single day.  What's worse are all the people that think buying something with a pink label on it actually helps.  It isn't the people I judge, but the companies who pinkwash their goods in the name of awareness, without donating one red cent to the cause. 

Anyhow, my point of this post was not to complain about the month of October (which include my amazing son's birthday AND Halloween, who couldn't love that?)... But to share with you that there is a vaccine in the works for triple negative breast cancer!  It is moving into clinical trials for humans in 2015.  AMAZING!  Exciting!  Here's who I learned about it from:
http://triplenegativebc.blogspot.com/2013/10/more-developments-on-vaccine.html

Deep breath

I'm going to blame hormones, well, because I can.  But it seems that my emotional state is getting worse not better.  I'm doing the right things, going to counseling, talking to the people around me, seeking support, but I'm finding that I'm in a constant state of low-level anxiety with limited coping skills as a result.  I'm trying, and hopefully once this whole non-stress test insurance situation has fully shaken out (nearly there!) it will improve, but some of it I am just trying to take in stride.

Okay, so what is going on?  Well the first realization that I had is that I'm feeling very much as though this is the beginning of the cancer saga.  Don't get me wrong, I don't believe that I am going to get cancer again, but my emotional and medical journey began at the end of my pregnancy with Bella.  I have an emotional through line from the end of my pregnancy, into delivery, through breastfeeding, and straight into cancer.  It isn't rational exactly, but understandable.  After explaining that to Nick, he agreed and said that he actually felt the same way.  So we both feel a little bit like we are holding our breath to be sure it isn't going to happen again.  I at least enjoyed a little validation in Nick feeling the same way, and that it wasn't just me being crazy. =)

On top of that, I've been dealing with this nonsense with testing and my insurance blahdy blah blah blah.  I've found an OB's office in the next town north (different county, but same drive as the hospital I'm currently being referred to), that does non-stress tests in their office.  This means I will have no co-pay, or a standard office visit ($20).  I can handle that. =)  They have said I can go there, it is in network for my insurance, and doesn't require anything additional on my part (from what I can tell).  Sadly, after a horrible phone call from one of the doctors in my OB's office that I have yet to deal with, I received another phone call from them after I called with this news.  Their only response to me was that if the doctor saw anything wrong that they would send me to a different hospital to have my baby (the one closer to them), and if I was okay with that then I could go there.  I do understand that if there was an emergency situation I would need to go to the nearest hospital and in theory that means my OBs office would not be able to be there for delivery.  However, most likely anything they see on a NST would not be "emergency" and I would have time to drive down to my hospital.  The only reason I mention this is that it feels like my OBs office is not in my corner.  I do not feel supported by them at all because I'm not just doing what they tell me to do in full compliance without questioning.  It worries me about how my delivery will go.  I'm going to have to deal with this face to face in my OBs office I think to make sure we are all still on the same page.

Finally I had a growth ultrasound today and it left me a little freaked out.  Baby boy is measuring quite large, which isn't in itself surprising, though he jumped percentiles and that scares me a little.  According to today's measurements he is trending towards 10 pounds at full term.  Yikes.  I know how hard it was to push out 8.5 pounds, so another pound and a half is quite intimidating.  What left me more anxious however, is that the ratio of his head to his abdomen is trending the wrong way.  It is still fine, but closer than it was at the last ultrasound and close in general.  The radiology doctor said my OB might want me to go back for another scan.  I hope she does.  Essentially if the abdomen is larger than the head, you run the risk of shoulder dystocia or the baby getting stuck after the head is out.  Not good for mommy or baby.  Just don't want to even come close to that being an issue because I just don't trust that the doctors won't push for c-section.

And all of this is tied up in to crazy low lying stuff about guilt around my gestational diabetes, and not being able to do much anymore because I am tired and mentally/emotionally at capacity.  I seriously don't know how people have had babies over and over throughout history.  I admit, I feel a little bit like a failure because this is so dang hard.

Life is not all bad.  We had an AMAZING time at my sprinkle this past weekend.  I want to do it justice with its own post when I'm not grumpy and upset over unrelated things.  I am so blessed to have such an amazing community of women in my life.  I was not only sprinkled but spoiled this weekend.  And little man has already got a wardrobe that rivals his sisters.  =)  So I will leave you on that note of positivity with a whole post to come on it.  Five and a half weeks or less and little man will be here.  Count down!

Sisterhood vs Survivor

Today I stopped by an elementary school to try and help out one of Nick's coworkers who needed her child's class list.  The kindergarten orientation was going on so there was a large group of parents out in the front of the office.  I passed a woman who was a little older than myself, but still young.  She was wearing a wig, very similar to the one I wore.  As I passed her I thought about saying something.  I decided not to, but it left an interesting impression on me.

When I was going through treatment, I still regularly attended our local farmers market when I felt up to it.  One day, I passed a woman who casually said to me "oh, we have the same barber".  It was a sweet way of saying "hey, I'm your sister in this."  I had a few encounters similar to this one where someone took a moment to acknowledge the bond between us, and usually to give me a little hope that I too will get through it.

I've struggled over the last several months with the concept of being a "survivor".  The word has never resonated with me.  And yet I know that there is a part of me that needs a connection to what I've been through.  Someone that I can look in the eyes and know "gets it".  Somewhere to go when I'm struggling with some aspect of having been through it and how it has permanently changed my interior landscape.  I joined a private group on facebook for young survivors.  It does give me a little of what I need, but unfortunately also exposes me to the downside of "survivorship"- recurrence, metastatic disease, and death.  These are all realities in the world of cancer.  Ones that I really do not need regular reminders of.

So I continue to struggle with this concept of survivorship and how to both connect myself to those who "get it" and yet, get over and beyond it.  It is a medical experience that I had and does not need to run my life from here on out.  Just like having my appendix out, or any other medical experience someone may have.  The deeper reaching elements have more to do with societal beliefs than reality in many ways.

Seeing this woman today though made me realize that I have joined a new sisterhood.  A club like many others.  When we adopted our dog Siena, I joined the dog owners club.  When I had Isabella, I joined the mommy club.  When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I joined the (misnomer) "survivors" club.  It is a worldwide network of people who have had a similar experience to me.  It bonds us and connects us in ways that people who have not had that experience are not.  And so with this new language, I seek to find a place in this sisterhood that serves me and others like me.  I do not need to be called a survivor.  I am a sister.  In arms.

Behind the ball...

I know I'm overdue on my pregnancy update (not to mention having skipped the one prior!) and have been quite remiss on my blogging in general.  I think I may have hit critical mass with this pregnancy.  I'm trying very hard to keep up with my amazing two year old and give her as much quality time as possible, while also trying to get my house ready for her little brother.  And boy, do we have a lot to do!  Meanwhile my calendar seems to be unrelenting.  I may have to start passing on social events just to accomplish the things I need to without totally losing my mind.

I've also realized how poorly timed this pregnancy is in regards to processing cancer.  Although it couldn't have started at a better time (pulling me out of a funk quite quickly), as I approach the end, I realize I have a lot of work to do on myself, but feel as though I don't have the time, or capacity to do it.  I'm considering calling the counselor I worked with during treatment as she at least knows my story and I wouldn't have to start over.  I could certainly squeeze in a "refresher" with her in hopes that it will help clear some of the gunk that is building up.  Its tough though to consider adding any appointments to my already full medical calendar when all I want to do is spend time with Isabella, and have a growing desperate need to get my house ready for baby boy.  Not to mention the waning energy and physical ability to do much of anything.

As usual, my community is amazing and offers of help have certainly come in.  I'm sure I will take advantage of some of these offers (a painting party may well be on the books in the near future) but in general I am so sick of not being at decent capacity for myself that I just don't want to ask, or even accept the help.  I'll have no choice quite soon, but it is a disheartening place to be.  Tonight I was feeling grumpy after dinner and guilty that I wasn't "doing anything"... To be fair, I had just cooked a really nice dinner (meatloaf cupcakes with mashed potato frosting, zucchini and fresh corn on the cob) and was a little tired from that.  In my head I was mad at someone for judging me (myself I imagine)... In this internal moment, I thought "I should start telling people- I am doing something, I'm making a human!"... Because apparently I was being judged in that moment for not "doing anything"... Again- all in my head.  I quickly realized that I was arguing with myself and no one was in fact judging me.  It's tough though.  To never feel like you're enough.  I'd better get that one under decent control before little boy joins us, because in many regards, this is only going to get worse!

On a more positive note, I was thinking about how amazing babies (and our bodies) are.  A friend of mine is due in August with her first baby (also a little boy).  He has been hanging out transverse (sideways) for the majority of her pregnancy.  It was looking very much like this mama was going to get stuck with a c-section.  Then, just the other day, she felt him moving a ton and low and behold, he had turned into position!  I couldn't help but wonder, what is it that makes babies turn the right way like that?  What instinct drives us to get ready for the next big step.  I've heard a number of stories like this and it just strikes me as truly miraculous.  I look forward to seeing my own miracle tomorrow on the (sort of) big screen!  We have a growth scan tomorrow to find out just how big our little man is!  I'm admittedly nervous because he feels awfully big and active to me, but here's hoping he is right on target for a slightly above average size!  Wish us luck!

Tropical Storm Karey

The past few weeks have been a bit tumultuous for me.  I think as the mountain play was coming to an end and I started to get my brain back from that, which unfortunately left a little too much room for all of the other realities I just haven't really dealt with.

As you may recall, I was on anti-depressants during and after my radiation treatments.  I weaned myself off as soon as I found out I was pregnant since it is a class C drug (aka not tested enough, and what has been tested has shown negative consequences when used in the third trimester).  Mostly I felt good about it and didn't experience any negative consequences.  Now the reality of my emotional state has hit again.  I've realized that the truth is I probably should in fact still be on something, but the few things that are safe during pregnancy are not effective for me.  So I wait.  And deal.  Which is hard.

The causes aren't important, mostly since they are silly things or surface things that wouldn't normally send me into a tailspin.  Unfortunately the effect has been all of my insecurities, both old and new, have been brought to the surface.  The old stuff is just that, nothing new, old issues that I knew still existed in varying degrees.  I believe as people we all have our damages and hopefully we can be aware of them and hopefully deal with them as we grow.  These things are mine.  I've made some progress through the years, and still have a way to go.  The new things are the effects of becoming a mom, having cancer, and quitting my professional life.  Primarily, the ones that surprised me are from cancer.

The level of mortality that I experience now comes as little surprise.  I essentially have PTSD and haven't yet dealt with it.  I thought I had a little time since the pregnancy snapped me out of it, but apparently I need to get into counseling to deal with it before this baby arrives.  It is stronger than I thought.

What has surprised me in the last couple of weeks are the feelings of being damaged goods.  My surgery and subsequent deformity was never a real issue.  Sure, every so often I would try to dress up, or just be having a bad day and would be annoyed that I am so uneven.  But with the right bra and a little stuffing, I could hide it.  Plus, I'm not done yet.  I still haven't had reconstruction and believe that once that is done, things will look so much better.  So it is a temporary deformity in many ways.  The last couple of weeks have made me realize that simply isn't true.  Even if my breasts "look better" after reconstruction, they will no longer work "correctly".  My right side will never look the same.  And even if all of that proves untrue with some amazing plastic surgery, I still have this reality that I had cancer.  I could have it again.  It is now, and forever will be, a part of who I am.  This on top of the body issues I bring from my past makes me a little bit of a basket case.

The pregnancy sadly isn't helping.  For many women, pregnancy is hard.  Physically it is draining.  I am tired, I hurt, I get sick easily, and some days it is all I can do to get out of bed in the morning.  This coming after a year of cancer treatments that did the same thing, after several months of being a new mom and suffering from zero sleep and emotional drain, and that after my first pregnancy.  I feel like I am on my third year of being broken.  It gets old.

So the summary for me right now is that I am feeling mortal and terrified, damaged, and broken.  Nice combo right?  I'm working on it and have faith that it will be fine.  For now I am just taking it one day at a time.  Or sometimes one hour at a time.  Whatever it takes to get through the day.

Speaking From Experience- Breast Cancer

About a month ago I was asked by my cancer center if I would be interested in participating in a filmed interview about my experience with cancer.  They are working with a health media company to put together a resource for newly diagnosed patients (and friends and family) and thought that I might be a good person to use.  Of course I was happy to help and went ahead and scheduled my interview.

Today was the actual event.  I did my best to prep for the camera (in other words, I actually put on make-up, chose an appropriate top, and attempted to do my hair).  Then I bustled Bella and I out the door.  I arrived at my appointment time a little early (mostly because I had decided it was half an hour earlier than it was for some strange reason), and was guided into the back room.  I hadn't spent much time thinking about what exactly I wanted to say, or how I wanted to portray my story.  I trusted that as they asked me questions I would have the answers readily available, and the story would tell itself.  What I wasn't sure about was how my emotions would treat me in the process.

They walked me through the basics of what they wanted to cover- what life was like before diagnosis, what the diagnosis was like, how treatment when, and how does life look now.  After all that was done we would cover the clinic and my experience related to that.  I had to try and incorporate the question into the answer (since the interviewer will be edited out) and leave out specifics (like names and actual drug names etc).  All of that came relatively easy for me.

I can't tell you exactly what I said.  I simply cannot remember.  My anxiety was oddly high as I shared my story, surely because I knew I was on camera.  Had it been someone writing a story, or some other type of interview, I suspect I wouldn't have been nervous at all.  The worst of it (from what I can tell) was there was a fair amount of nervous laughter from my end.  Hopefully it comes off more that I'm not "stuck" in the negativity of cancer, and not that I'm a crazy person. =)

I think my story was one of hope.  To me, cancer has just been a stop on my journey.  Not much different than pregnancy, or college, or supporting my grandmother through the last year of her life while she fought brain cancer.  It wasn't something I necessarily wanted to do, often wasn't fun, but offered many gifts along the way as long as I was open to them.  At least I hope that is what I portrayed.

Most interesting for me was how readily available the emotions of my diagnosis were.  As I told the story of receiving the phone calls the day I was diagnosed, I could picture myself driving, exiting the freeway, calling my mom and Nick and knowing that the worst news was about to be delivered.  I teared up a little as I told the story.  No tears fell, but it was all right there, as if it had happened yesterday.  Once we were beyond that part of the story, it was often funny, at least in retrospect, or simply what was.  There wasn't a whole lot of emotional charge to the rest of the story.  Even as I talked about hitting my low point after surgery.  I still struggle with thoughts of mortality, and am prepared to go back on antidepressants once I have delivered and breastfed this baby.  I'm doing well, but have recognized that it is a little harder than I think it should be.  The weight on my chest is a little heavier than I would like it to be.  But even as I talked about some of these things, it was still just another part of the story.  The diagnosis was the moment that my life changed.  Or not even the diagnosis really, but the moment I knew what they were going to say.  The moment I answered the second call from my doctors office telling me I needed to come in that afternoon.

As the years go on I anticipate my perspective on this past year will change.  Different moments may come into sharper focus, and many things will likely blur with time.  I think though, that one moment may never change.  It is so clear, so focused, so present in my mind and body.  Not a moment I've spent much time thinking about, but it seems to be the moment of all of this.

Once I am able (assuming it will be available publicly) I will share the video.  It will likely be a couple of months before I even see a rough cut, but I will post it once I can!  Another day, eh?

Onward and Upward

January was a tough month for me.  I think my posts made that pretty clear.  I've been struggling quite a bit since I finished treatment and barrelled through the holidays.  January hit and I hit a wall.  The dip that all my doctors warned me about definitely hit.  I don't expect that I am done with the doldrums of cancer survivorship, but at least this one seems to have passed. 

I've worked on spending quality time with my growing toddler (who is making her opinions known loud and clear these days).  A large part of that includes getting the two of us outside and active more regularly.  I'm working on more walks, visits to the Bay Area Discovery Museum, trips to the park, walks on Mt Tam, visits to the beach- anything that keeps us entertained and moving.  I also auditioned for the annual Mountain Play production (this year will be The Music Man) and was cast as one of the town gossip Pick-a-Little ladies.  The purpose of this is multi-fold.  I am doing something that is just for me, I am getting back into my favorite hobby, I am working with the director on his last show on the mountain (an important milestone), and it keeps me outdoors and active!  I am hoping that the show will help make me a better mommy, friend, wife, and person. 

I am also looking at finding some part time work over the course of the next year.  I will be considered able to return to work after February 23rd.  This is only about one month prior to the show starting so I'm not sure that I will try to dive back in at that point.  Rehearsal is five to six days a week (three to four evenings and two weekend days), so adding even two days of a job feels like too much time away from Bella.  But I have sorted out our finances and we can manage until Nick's next raise, at which point I believe we won't need me to work.  My goal is to find something two days a week that truly makes me happy.  I want to work to make a difference in the world, or community, or something.  Even if it is on a small scale.  It could be any number of ways, not necessarily education or non-profit or advocacy, but something that is fulfilling and joyful.  Something that adds to my life and my spirit, thereby giving me energy and focus to be a good happy parent and wife and all of the other roles in my life.  I am excited to see what manifests.

I continue exploring what it means to be a "survivor".  The whole Susan G Komen controversy put quite a bit of this in light for me.  I won't bore you with that here, and will instead make another post to discuss some of these things.  What I will say is that I continue to grow and discover my survivorship.  It is definitely not all it is cracked up to be.  There is some interesting weight that comes along with it, even beyond the anxiety and fear that the cancer itself has created.  There is the expectation, whether from myself or others (often both), that cancer has given me perspective to things in life.  You know the phrase "don't sweat the small stuff"?  As a survivor it is almost as if people expect you to be above that.  The truth is that I am still me, and the things that mattered to me before, matter to me now, even if they are insignificant.  I'm not magically this wise sage with amazing life perspective just because I've had my body destroyed by chemicals, removed a body part surgically, and submitted myself to small, daily doses of radiation poisoning, all in the name of saving my life.  I am still frustrated by a toddler who asserts her independence (often by screaming at me) several times a day, or upset by the stupid arguments Nick and I get in (as every married couple does)... Anyhow that has been one of the more challenging pieces of settling into my survivorship.

Yesterday I took Bella out for a day of discovery.  I was aiming for Muir Woods, but discovered that I didn't actually know where I was going, and overshot, landing at Stinson Beach.  It was such an unbelievably gorgeous day at the beach (despite being a little overcast at home, just over the mountain) and I was so very happy to be there with the sun on my shoulders and the sand in my toes.  Bella enjoyed it too, especially since I let her put her feet in the ocean.  Here are a couple of pictures from our amazing winter day at the beach!