Events

Lost

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A blessing in disguise. The job change in February was not a good fit (turned out to be more hours, more stress, etc. etc. – the complete opposite of what I was looking for). It was a sign. Even though I would be giving up good pay and benefits, I decided I could no longer live in misery working in the legal field. I had been so unhappy for so long. Honestly, looking back, I had been sabatoging myself at every turn for several years. Eventually, inevitably, it all finally fell apart.

I knew I didn’t want to go back to the legal field, but I was also having a hard time moving forward. I had no clue and felt seriously exhausted after six years battling health issues, making life-altering decisions, caring for my ailing, elderly father and his eventual passing this past December; and then the grief of it all.  So much loss. Add what seemed like the demise of my career and well, it felt like I had hit a very big wall going 100 miles an hour.  

Honestly, all I wanted to do is crawl into a glass box somewhere far inside a wilderness and fall into a deep, deep sleep for about a hundred years–like Snow White after eating the poisoned apple.  This is actually how tired I felt.  Completely exhausted.

So for the past six months, I’ve been in a place of limbo–lots of sleep, depression and a state of just feeling utterly lost. To ensure I could pay my bills, I’ve been driving for Lyft. I decided I would work for myself and become a virtual assistant and notary signing agent. I even created a website and started to develop clients. This is something I could still eventually pursue. However, at present my heart just isn’t in it. I need meaning in my life. Work that compels me to get out of bed every morning.

Recently, an opportunity has come available working with other young, breast cancer survivors. Yes-meaningful work! I am trying not to get my hopes up too much as I had also fallen back into very unhealthy habits. However, I do still have a shot at this. I have a second interview in a couple of weeks. More on this later as I don’t want to jinx myself.

I know this phase of limbo is meant to catapult me in a new direction, but it has been slow going and I have seemingly been working against the tide instead of flowing with it.

I ask for prayers that I’ll find my way.

For the love of Rex

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Rex is my brother’s dog; an 8 year old Rhodesian ridgeback, and a beautiful specimen of the breed.  He is as big as, if not bigger than, any Great Dane, but pure muscle.  Always the alpha male, particularly when it came to his sister, Mia; but, Rex is a lover, not a fighter.  He definitely let his size be known if another dog tried to claim alpha-male status, but anything more I think was out of character for him, maybe simply because his muscular stature was enough.  It has been said that another dog challenged him at doggy day care long ago.  Rex took up a proud stance and let out a giant woof, which was enough to silence the other dog for good.

My brother used to take him to rattlesnake training.  Rex just stood behind my brother the whole time.  He didn’t want anything to do with the snakes.  Unlike my dogs, which would probably be all over them, wondering what they were.  How could they play with or kill these snakes?  I’m sure Rex would still hunt lions though!

Every single time I came to visit, without fail, Rex would be at my driver’s side door waiting for me to get out of the car, always with uncontrollable excitement.  My brother trained Rex diligently, and for the most part, had him well-controlled.  He was very careful to make sure Rex stayed in line with guests.  Rex had a special love for me though, and I for him.  I think because after my nephew was born, I never faltered in giving Rex the attention he still needed and deserved.  My brother was especially careful where Rex was concerned when I was going through treatment and with my surgeries.  But I loved Rex’s limitless love for me.  Nothing can compare to the love a dog gives.

After my nephew and sister-in-law, Rex is my brother’s pride and joy.  My sister-in-law would say, “You know that’s his boy.”  Rex would sit with my brother on his deck while he drank his coffee in the morning.  He and Mia were my brother’s running partners and the dogs often spent time with the family on their wake-boarding boat.

About six months ago, Rex was diagnosed with cancer; a form of melanoma that was found in his dewclaw.  The dewclaw and cancer were removed and my brother and sister-in-law decided they would do everything they could for him, aside from chemo and further surgeries, which they felt would diminish his quality of life.

My brother does not show his emotions, but when Rex was first diagnosed, he told me about it over the phone.  He couldn’t say much and began to choke up.  That was truly testament to his love for Rex.

This past Christmas, only a month ago, I gifted faux snowballs to my nephew and we all had a nice snowball fight, which Rex loved being a part of.  Within a week a two after, the cancer had spread to his mouth.  I went to visit him this past Friday night, knowing it would be the last time I’d spend with him.

Again, even though he hadn’t eaten in a week, true to form, one last time he came and met me at my driver’s side door.  He wouldn’t walk on the grass though, only the driveway.  I know he was glad to see me, but the excited Rex I knew was gone.  However, he still managed to wag his tail from time to time throughout our visit. 

The now huge, cancerous tumor bulged from inside his mouth and gave a very distinct and pungent smell of dead tissue.  It stayed with me for days after our visit.  It’s something you never forget.

I laid with Rex in my brother’s living room with his head gently resting on my lap.  I remembered eight years earlier sitting in the same spot and laying his sleeping body over my lap when he was just a small puppy, about the size his head is now.

I stayed and had dinner with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew.  When it came time to leave, I kissed and hugged Rex several times, knowing it was for the last time.  He walked outside to the drive with my brother, as he always did to see me off.  I intentionally backed out of my brother’s long, winding driveway so I could see Rex in my headlights as I left.  He walked halfway up the drive as if not wanting me to leave.  I cried the entire way home.

I love you, Rex!  Thanks for loving me too!

 

002bright   IMAG0045   Rex   IMAG0547cropped

One year survivor as of May 13th

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I was first diagnosed May 13th of last year.  I’ve had so much going on recently I completely spaced that it’s been over a year since my first diagnosis and I’m cancer-free. Crap, it’ll be nice when the day comes when things are settled in my life enough to celebrate my survival anniversaries!

Stuck in conversation with George

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It’s taken me a while to think of a title for this post.  I feel like, particularly recently, my head space is in up and down, mostly negative states, but also very revealing–So much clarity.  This is where I’m at though.  I can’t deny that.  This is a massive part of my journey.  In fact, the most important part, and I’ve been struggling deeply with this pain.   I don’t particularly have any friends named George, but I wanted the title to at least present as a little more positive than the rest of the post, so I decided to give my “emotional pain” a name.  George is a good name. 

This has been a time of serious grief, sadness and overall pain for me; not just for the major events I’ve just faced, but a lifetime of heartache that I haven’t allowed myself the opportunity to really grieve or work through without tearing myself down in the process.  I’ve placed so much shame and unworthiness on myself.  Instead of knowing how to parent myself through chaotic events, I allowed a side of me, an enabler, to grow stronger.  If it felt bad, my enabler would say, “it’s okay, have that piece of pizza or cheesecake, smoke that cigarette or have those 3 or 4 glasses of wine.”  How cunning this enabler became. 

I’ve had weight issues most of my life.   Although I was a thin and athletic as a child, the weight problems started while my mother was in and out of the hospital going through cancer treatments.  I guess I was around 10 or 11 when it became noticeable.  I was just a little chubbier than the other girls.  I was 12 years old when she died.  I remember people bringing casserole after casserole to our house.  Our fridge overflowed with them.  From out of these events my addiction to food was born.  I’ve spiraled between thin and fat (mostly fat) ever since.  I don’t think I’ve even recognized myself in a mirror, or in pictures (and those are the worst at giving you a reality check), in 10 or 15 years, maybe more.

Throughout that time more life-altering events occurred–hard, heartbreaking events, and George got fed.  George grew stronger and gorged himself whenever possible, and my addiction festered.   What a lie, a joke I played on myself for so long.  As if food was my comforting friend and my fat a wall of protection from everyone around me.  What cruel deceivers.

I suffered what I believed to be a fairly major rejection this past week, but one that I needed to happen, and the timing of it was quite perfect.  Honestly, I set myself up for it, likely intentionally.  I’ve noticed I tend to do that when things in my life are askew, which is all the time.  I basically acted like a complete, desperate jackass.  I always created an awkward atmosphere around this particular person, which had more to do with everything I’ve been going through; but, it wasn’t something I ever communicated to him.  I know my awkwardness made him uneasy.  Luckily, the rejection forcefully knocked me back into reality.  Though it was a crushing blow to my fragile ego and amplified George’s existence, it ultimately was the exact thing I needed to push me into recovery.  I’m not saying I’m cured or have it all figured out, but for me, the past week or so has meant 10 thousand steps in the right direction–extremely painful, yes, but necessary.  Adversity truly is our greatest teacher.  Everything in life is Teacher, remember that!

Decoding Annie Parker Review

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They changed the date of the movie to May 19th instead of May 22nd.  I went last night for the screening hosted by Casting for Recovery (or CFR – http://castingforrecovery.org/home), an organization that provides fly fishing retreats all over the US for breast cancer survivors of all stages.  You may ask, fly fishing?  But it provides a gentle activity for those who have limited mobility in their chest and upper arms due to breast surgery.  Pretty cool actually!  I can see how good this idea is as I had to do physical therapy after my surgery.  CFR was founded in Vermont by two women, one a reconstructive surgeon and the other a professional fly fisher.  I may apply and learn to fly fish.  Why the hell not–looks to be a totally fun, Zen-like, tranquil experience.

I was worried I might cry at parts of the film, with it matching so closely to my own experience, and I was having a bad day emotionally yesterday anyway.  I didn’t cry though, and actually laughed at a number of moments.  I wish more people would see this film, just to have a better understanding.   Starring Samantha Morton and Helen Hunt, this film is based on true events.  “Decoding Annie Parker tells the life affirming story of two remarkable women; the irrepressible Annie Parker, a three time cancer survivor and the geneticist Mary-Claire King whose discovery of the breast cancer BRCA gene mutation is considered one of the most important discoveries of the 20th century,” (taken from http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/decoding_annie_parker/). 

I related overwhelmingly to so many parts of this movie, specifically to what Annie Parker went through.  I laughed at the parts where she constantly gave herself breast exams–checking for lumps.  While watching a movie with her husband or at the dinner table with friends.  You can become obsessed with “feeling yourself up” on a highly frequent basis when you know BC runs in your family or find out you have the gene mutation.  I thought, omg, that was totally me too!   I almost felt this was my story and I’m glad such films are being made and recognized today.  It creates so much more awareness around the reality surrounding women with BRCA mutations.

They had a question and answer session afterward with a genetic counselor and a hematologist/oncologist.  I sat quietly and listened as several questions were raised about genetic testing for BRCA mutations, new drugs on the market, statistics and family histories.  While listening to the questions asked and feeling a majority of attendees were of the general population (meaning not having and likely not remotely in danger of having a mutation like mine), I realized at that moment how fairly unique I was.  Not that anyone wants to be unique in this way, of that I can assure you, but it is what it is.  One woman asked what the ratio of having a BRCA mutation is in women.  In the general population (excluding the Ashkenazi Jewish population) it’s 1 in 400. 

 

Numbing while in Hyperdrive

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When you decide to rid yourself of all your numbing vices, reality IS a bitch.  Need I elaborate?  The whole point of numbing one’s self is to escape reality, in particular, the pain of it.   Cancer or not, life can be incredibly painful and you have to feel it at some point.  All the numbing agents in the world can’t make it go away.  Well, I guess they can for a while, otherwise we wouldn’t do them, but in the end they only make everything worse.   Then you find moments of clarity when the question arises, “WTF, how did I get here?”  Like whole blocks of time were erased from your life.  But they weren’t.  You just weren’t paying enough attention.  You were numb.

It’s true, you simply have to move through the pain.  At some point you have to stop, FEEL IT and move through it.  It really is the only way.  It’s certainly a process though–Not a 24-hour turn-around type task.

I’ve been seeing a counselor to help me sort through all of this.  She is also a breast cancer survivor.  The social worker at Texas Oncology was able to get me in to see her through the Flatwater Foundation (http://flatwaterfoundation.org/).  My counselor said I’ve had so much going on for so long that I haven’t had time to grieve any of it.  I’ve literally had one major crisis to handle after another, back-to-back, for the past five years.   And these aren’t like, “hey I just broke up with my boyfriend” type crises, I wish.  These are “I have to think about removing organs from my body or I might die” type crises.   Serious life and death situations back-to-back for 5 years.

In August 2009, my stepmother passed away from advanced melanoma.  About seven or eight months before she died, around January/February 2009, I was diagnosed with a very rare, pancreatic cyst.  My father also needed a lot of assistance during this time with my stepmother’s illness and passing.  Then in the fall of 2009, I also assisted my father in his battle with her four daughters over his life estate in the house.  This was all very stressful and I was way too in the middle of things, a place I really didn’t want to be.  However, at that time I felt I had to help my father.

Upon being diagnosed with the pancreatic cyst, I began meeting with specialists and surgeons and was having tons of testing and blood work done.  Two years of trying to characterize the cyst, this entailed a number of endoscopic procedures and biopsies.  Then came the decision to do pancreatic surgery and finding a specialized surgeon for that (I ended up going to Houston).  In the middle of all of this I finally did the BRCA testing, which came back positive for a BRCA1 mutation.

Once you’re deemed a BRCA mutant, you are automatically placed in the cancer pool and they start watching you like a hawk as it’s only a matter of time in the medical community’s mind before you get it.  I started seeing a medical oncologist regularly.  One of the top in Austin.  Then started the serious breast screening, the first being a breast MRI (it would switch between that and a diagnostic mammogram every six months).   With the first breast MRI came a huge scare from my medical oncologist and breast surgeon that they’d found not one spot, but four in my right breast.  At that time, they all turned out to be false positives, but you can’t imagine what the stress of not knowing and waiting for results does to a person over the space of a week or two.  They nearly called off my scheduled, pancreatic surgery in place of possible cancer treatment for the breast.

2009 and 2010 were a virtual maze of dr. appts, tests, research and decision making.  My pancreatic surgeon also presented me with the option of removing my ovaries at the time of having the pancreatic surgery.  That alone took a good while of serious contemplation, research, decision-making, consulting with all sorts of medical professionals (including finding a gynecological oncologist surgeon for the procedure), talking with other women with mutations, going to conferences regarding BRCA mutations, tons more research, making pros and cons lists, getting advice from friends, digging deep and “going to the mountain” so to speak, etc. etc.  I was only 36 at this time.

After finding out my breasts were okay but still possible ticking time bombs, I then had to make the decision to follow through with the distal pancreatectomy with splenectomy and possible bilateral oophorectomy (mind you, the pancreatic surgery alone is deemed very dangerous.  I was told by several doctors and general surgeons that they are told in medical school to stay away from the pancreas.  My gastroenterologist basically scared the crap out of me for two years, always with a line like, “you’re young, you’ll probably live through it.”).

November 2, 2010, surgery day, this went fine initially.  And then about a week or so after started the massive complications–almost 6 months worth.  I came close to dying several times during this period.  You can’t imagine how brutal this was.  Now I’m considered a Type 1 diabetic and I have a major, complex abdominal hernia and gruesome scar that still need to be repaired.  By the end of 2011, I started scouting various surgeons for the hernia repair and preventive, plastic surgery for my breasts.  My biggest issue being my weight.  All the surgeons wanted me to lose a significant amount before going ahead with the surgery.  Best results are at ideal/goal weight.  I’ll tell you now; this is easier said than done, having battled weight issues since my early teens.

Then in 2012, I had to make the decision to make a job transition.  Not something I wanted at the time, but felt pressured to make.  This was huge in itself as I’d been working for my previous firm for 12 and half years and could have easily settled in and retired from there, but I was a little restless regardless and my firm started downsizing so I sought work elsewhere.  Right after starting in my position with my new firm, I traveled to Boston for a friend’s wedding and got into a car accident.  Although no one was injured, this in itself turned into a months long, stressful and chaotic situation for my other friend and me as we battled with the rental car company, other driver and insurance companies.

Also within this time, around March 2013, my father had massive, congestive heart failure and was in the hospital and a nursery facility for 6-8 weeks and then needed assistance after returning home.  This brings us to the spring of 2013 and my breast cancer diagnosis and subsequent lumpectomy, 5 months of chemo and double mastectomies, from which I’ve only been recovering since January of this year, 2014.

In February of this year my father fell, fractured his skull and suffered severe bleeding in his brain.  He has spent weeks in the hospital and now doing rehab at a nursing facility.  My brother and I have been sorting through and dealing with his finances and personal needs.  All of which my father has made more difficult for everyone around him–Never thinking ahead, but letting things fell apart and leaving us to pick up the pieces.

In the midst of all of this I’ve personally struggled financially, was failing in the performance of my new job and let all the ordinary maintenance of relationships, home and life fall by the wayside.

Now my counselor says that since some of these burdens have been lifted from me, my brain, heart and body have made way for some sort of extreme grieving process, of which I’ve only started.  It’s very hard and feels like a lot of emotional baggage.  Very saddening and it’s hard to pull out of a depressed state.  I veered off the road at some point and am now lost in the woods.  I am focusing on trying to maintain my new eating plan, daily exercise and I’m back to taking my daily supplements.  However, I currently still feel like I’m mired neck deep in negative, sad, angry and bitter feelings and thoughts.  Almost like I can’t see straight–Just plain screwed up.  I’m trying to find my way out of this darkness as I don’t want these feelings to stay.  I have to find a way of accepting and moving forward.  It’s a bitch to say the least!

All this time I’ve been stuck in hyperdrive, just trying to survive and make it through things.  It’s only when we slow down that we are able to assess the damage.  The loss of what I anticipated life to look like.  The loss or delay of anticipated family and happiness.  My counselor says these things are still possible.  It takes getting past believing it’s all fubar.  Transformation has its setbacks.

 

Living it up Texas-style at Poodie’s

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A little post-birthday bash with friends at Poodie’s Hilltop bar.  Yay–I haven’t laughed so hard in a while!!!  The lovely, bearded gentleman behind us wanted in on the action too–photo crasher!  Nice guy though and I think he adds a special “Texas” charm to the photo!  Look at that–Within five minutes of us walking in the door, someone had already spilled her beer.  Beth?!

  Poodieville   spilt beer

 

An End to 2013 and My Crap Year of Cancer!

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Yay!  As the year of 2013 comes into its final hours, I sit in my cozy living room next to a roaring fire and drink pink champagne and enjoy the chocolate truffles my friend, Charlotte, made.  A very nice and relaxing celebration to the end of a bad year.  One full of a cancer diagnosis, TONS of doctor appts, a lumpectomy, five grueling months of chemo, a very serious blood clot, three months of blood thinners, and the cherry on top, a double mastectomy.

Yesterday I had a second follow up with my breast surgeon.  I stated I was still having some pain.  She stated it was most likely due to the drains.  She removed the drain tube from my right side but left the drain tube on my left side because it’s still draining a good amount of fluid.  I go back in one week to hopefully have the other taken out.  No infection or anything though.  Good news!

I also had an afternoon appt with my oncologist yesterday.  She was practically doing the jig in the exam room, saying, “yea, aren’t you happy, no more cancer!”  She said she was so happy for me and asked what my plans were now.  I told her I now have to get ready for reconstruction.  She said she was going to refer me to the Star program for rehabilitation to get me on a good fitness program.  She stated she wants to see me more than normal to track my progress in order to get me to my goal.

I was invited to a couple of parties tonight, and down to the lake in my little, lake community to watch fireworks, and even though I have been spending so much time snuggled on my sofa recuperating, I’m quite enjoying this quiet, cozy, pink champagne and chocolate filled end to a dismal year.  I just finished watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.  What a classic!

I look forward to 2014 with an excited hope that I don’t think I’ve had previously.  Today was a beautiful, winter day in the Texas hill country.  I stepped outside feeling refreshed.  The day was sunny and crisp and I felt my prospective on everything around me has shifted slightly.  Maybe even much more than slightly.  I pray this next year brings amazing joy, incredible adventure, vibrant health, positive changes and happy gifts of love and life beyond my wildest dreams!  I hope for simplicity, abundant happiness, romance and incredible wealth in all aspects of my life, and for those I love in my life!

One final thought, remember to eat your black-eyed peas tomorrow! ;-)