Tag Archives: Conditions and Diseases

Leaving Las Vegas

8 Aug
Vector image of the Las Vegas sign.

Three years ago I was on a road trip to, of all places, Las Vegas. I say “of all places” because I am not a gambler nor much of a drinker and the thought of spending a weekend in smoke-filled casinos has about as much appeal as getting a root canal. I have always been extremely allergic to cigarette smoke. And with cancer on both sides of my family, the smell of smoke has always made me anxious.

My girlfriends were persistent. “It will be fun, a girls weekend”.  They showed me pictures of the suite that we would share. It was beautiful (think of the movie “The Hangover”, cut the suite in half and get rid of the tiger and you have a pretty good picture of what we had for the weekend).

I had been feeling incredibly tired for months (I did not yet know I had cancer, but, my extreme tiredness was one of the unnoticed signs of the battle my body was waging against the cancer within). Suddenly the idea of hanging out for three days in a luxury suite while my girlfriends gambled and went to shows (or whatever it is that people do in Vegas) started to have some appeal. I just wanted to rest. I remember how tired I felt then and how much I just wanted to do absolutely nothing. Which, by the way, is so NOT me.

At the last-minute, one of my girlfriend’s sisters (MJ – a breast cancer survivor) was able to join us. We had never met. I drove. MJ sat in the front with me and my two girl friends sat in the back and slept most of the trip to Vegas. The drive gave me and MJ an opportunity to get to know each other.

A little distance into our trip, she began to share her breast cancer experience with me. There were details of how she was diagnosed, of chemotherapy, and a bi-lateral mastectomy. But in particular (probably because it was something she was currently dealing with) she discussed her breast reconstruction surgeries in quite a bit of detail. I remember thinking, wow, I could never go through that. I was amazed at all she had endured.

She told me how the surgeries went. She described how she was about to get “new nipples”, how tattooing would be used to create a new areola and skin from her groin area taken to create the nipples. It was a bit more than I was comfortable hearing. It was so personal, so detailed and we were complete strangers. At one point, she raised up her top to show me what had been done to date.

MJ’s story had quite an impact on me that day. Little did I know, the very drug that saved her life back in 2005 (Herceptin) would, in a matter of months, be coursing through my veins to do the same (I hope) magic.

Not since that road trip have I heard much in the way of truly frank discussions of breast reconstruction. It simply is not an easy topic. Although, MJ had no problem sharing her story with me, perhaps it was because we did not know each other. It becomes a different matter, I think, when it is our friends, our families our colleagues.

Chemobabe has recently taken on this topic in her blog. And another favorite blog of mine, Nancy’s Point. addresses wholeness after breast cancer (with or without reconstruction). And a few years ago, this post (by a blogger who is actually a high school classmate of mine) addresses sexuality after breast cancer reconstruction surgery in her blog: “Breast Cancer the Second Time Around”

So why is it so difficult to discuss?

Breast cancer has provided me a very interesting window into our society. I know sex sells. I know breasts sell, I know, I know, I KNOW! (And, there is a lot written about groups that use sexy names to sell awareness of the disease and to raise funds for research – something that is a whole other topic).

But, until you have had your breasts removed, and until you have been forced to deal with the pressures that be (everyone else’s expectations of what you should or should not do) you really can’t fully understand how much having breasts and being perceived as a woman are so deeply linked. And it goes way beyond sex. And perhaps it is why groups with names like “Save the Ta-tas” and “Feel Your Boobies” are sometimes seen as offensive to those of us that no longer have ta-tas to save or feel.

Initially I was not sure what I wanted to do reconstruction wise. I simply wanted to survive. The last thing I wanted to worry about was breast reconstruction while I was battling an aggressive form of breast cancer.

But, there were other issues I had to consider too. (As a business owner and an employer I felt the need to minimize my time out, time off from work would have broad implications. And, there were other concerns: how long would I have to sit out from playing music, and insurance issues). It was not an easy decision at all. But after a great deal of thought, I decided to have “immediate” breast reconstruction surgery (knowing full well there was nothing immediate about it).

I admit, I felt pressured to begin reconstruction “immediately”. I realize now that this was not perhaps the best route to go (multiple surgeries while going through immune suppressing treatment is not the safest route it turns out). I spent months on IV antibiotics due to infections at the surgical sites (daily nurse visits to my home, an IV pole in my living room . . . okay, I know you get it . . . cancer is not much fun). But, my point is that had I waited on the surgery (which was never presented to me as a real option) I probably would have avoided the multiple infections and loss of skin that occurred (sorry if that is too much information, but, that is what can happen: “morbidity” of your skin, especially radiated skin).

So, I could have waited. But, it is what it is and I prefer not to look backwards. But, there is no reason why someone else can’t perhaps make a better informed decision by hearing of my experience.

Incidentally, I had what is called a lat flap procedure. This was the only option for me. Oddly, I got a lot of grief over my decision to do the lat flap from women at a breast cancer support group. I believe they meant well, I know they did, but, I found it a little upsetting.

I had, after all, consulted with many surgeons, I did research, I am not stupid (at least I didn’t think of myself that way). So, since it was not the kind of support I needed at the time I simply stopped going to the group. I knew for me it was the best decision I could make at the time. Those of us faced with these kinds of choices do not go about it without a lot of thought. As a result, when we are questioned about our decisions – our very hard to make choices – it is frustrating and I suppose, a little insulting.

My wish is that for newly diagnosed women, facing a mastectomy or other breast altering surgery, lumpectomy etc, is that they are presented with all options (not having reconstruction, having it “immediately” and having reconstruction at a later date). And my second wish is for those facing these choices that they be given the time, un-pressured time, to make their decision. And above all, as Chemobabe points out, once the decision has been made . . . it would be nice to have it trusted, not challenged or questioned.

There simply is not a one-size-fits-all approach to reconstructive surgery (whether to have it all, when to have it or type) any more than there is a one-size-fits-all bra.

There is light at the end of the tunnel . . .

25 Jul
Crowded summertime beach in Avalon, Santa Cata...

Avalon

It is funny how sometimes when you are forced (or force yourself) to do something difficult, it becomes easier.

I have to study for an upcoming professional exam. I don’t mind studying, I actually have always enjoyed it. But, since cancer my body is not the same. Things that were once quite easy can sometimes be very difficult. One of those things is sitting in the same position for a long time . . . something you kind of need to be able to do to study (at least I need to do it that way). Well, I started studying in short time frames and built up to longer time frames and now, while I can’t say I am back to my normal study stamina, I am definitely in a far better position than I was even just a few weeks ago.

So, I have been forcing myself to sit and study for as long as I can without taking a break. Then, when I absolutely have to, I take a break and return to it. My body hurts, my legs and arms go numb and it is uncomfortable and irritating. But, it is what it is. AND, I am quite happy to report that what I can do today is vastly more than what I could accomplish even just a few weeks ago. It really has in its own way (my studying) been a type of physical therapy.

I can only imagine how much better I will be after a few more weeks and then a few more weeks and so on.

The most challenging thing for me post cancer has been the feeling of losing my old self. I don’t mean losing my breasts and having my old breasts replaced with scarred up “reconstructed” breasts. Nope. I chose a bilateral mastectomy. I had cancer in one breast and chose to have both breasts removed. That choice made me feel empowered, not depressed, strong, not weak . . . and in some small way in control.

My point is that I am not so bothered by the scars on my body. It is the physical limitations (pain, exhaustion, lack of energy) that bother me the most. And it is those things that make me feel less like myself. (And, a little pissed).

Nowadays, post cancer, I often find myself having to choose which things to do in a given day, a given week, etc. simply because I don’t have enough energy or pain free time to do what I normally would do. And, I have found that very frustrating.

For example, recently I spent the day with friends on Catalina Island. It was a wonderful day. The weather was perfect and the company even better. But, knowing that I had this day trip planned meant to me that I had to figure out how much I could or could not do the preceding day and week because if I did too much, I would then be too tired for Catalina. It is like having a bank account without enough funds to meet your expenditures. I am in the red physically.

So it goes . . . my post cancer existence. And just so I am clear – I don’t mean not partying until 2:00 am the night before (that isn’t really my thing anyway). I mean not “over-extending myself” the day before – which can simply mean – letting the laundry go another day, and simply taking it really easy. On this occasion, it meant turning down a last minute dinner invitation. I couldn’t just say, “hey, I would love to come, but, I have a big day tomorrow and doing both will be too much for me” . . . or . . . could I? Instead I said, “I would love to, but, I already have plans” (yeah, plans to lie in bed for the rest of the night . . . argh).

It is a balancing act and I am getting better at it . . . better at knowing my limits and better at pushing my limits too.

This studying has been a wonderful thing because it has definitely improved my physical stamina for concentrated work (something that makes me very, very happy).

Prior to cancer I was working on a new book. I had to drop work on it during chemo because my brain was, well, fried. And looking back now on some of the blog posts I wrote during those days, I am certain that it was a wise choice to postpone finishing the book (chemobrain is real, at least it was for me).

But, after the past several weeks of studying, I know that now I could sit down and write for hours in a day. And that, my friends, is a huge, huge deal because it means that I am that much closer to getting my life back.

I know I will still have to make choices between which things I can do in a given day or week. But, the feeling I have had of being sidetracked by this disease is beginning to fade. I am dismissing it every day that I force myself to sit through the discomfort and study. It is a good feeling. Oh, and a day trip to Catalina Island with great friends is a pretty good way to leave some of the leftover pains from cancer behind me too.

I am pinkified . . .

29 Oct

I just realized that all of this pink has caused me to be emotionally nauseated. Not actually physically needing to throw up . . . but, just sick somehow . . . like I wanted to throw up in my head . . . (now you’re probably thinking I am really looney). I have decided that I kind of despise October. October used to be candy corn and orange and black and pumpkins and bags of individually wrapped candies . . . it used to simply be Autumn.

Now, it is just pink.

It has taken me a while to realize what has been making me feel so down these past few weeks. The sea of pink. The “would you like to donate to breast cancer research” every time I am at the check out stand of the grocery store. The displays of pinkified products practically blocking the entrance to my local grocery store. (By the way, this is all junk food mind you . . . not a single food item with pink on it that doesn’t contain something nasty for you in it – but, that deserves its own blog post).

This putrid, every-where-pinkification just doesn’t work for me at all. I get it, I know it is important that we all are aware of breast cancer. But, trust me . . . I AM aware of it and there is no doubt that everyone I know is also painfully aware of it too.

I have had my own awareness, thank you. My family and friends have all had this awareness too. I have not written in a little while. Mostly because I had nothing to say, well . . . nothing I wanted to share. I have been angry, I have been sad, I have cried a lot in the past couple of weeks . . . something I thought I was done doing. Apparently not.

Today I suddenly realized what I think is at the root of my recent emotional rollercoaster . . . it is all of this awful pink. It is just everywhere . . . I cannot escape. I am forced to think about it . . . about breast cancer . . . constantly.

I shop almost everyday . . . I do this because I try to eat fresh food and so most days I am running up to the grocery store (it is just a few blocks from my home). I think the grocery store is the worst place to go during October. An online friend, and fellow HER2+ breast cancer patient, has been posting photos of pink products on her facebook page and has encouraged others to do so too (you can see her blog here: http://www.chemobabe.com).

It runs the gamut from breast-cancer-awareness duraflame logs and household cleaning products to pinkified hamburger helper. Duraflame logs are not healthy to burn in your home . . . really. And, don’t even get me started with the chemicals in a box of hamburger helper.

Thanks, but, this isn't the kind of help I need

At first these pinkified products were funny, entertaining. It became a game to find the most bizarre pinkification. I even started taking pictures of pink products when I was at the grocery store. But, that was then . . .

Sometimes all of this pink just feels like salt on my wounds

Now? Well, all of this “awareness” has given me a month long head and stomach ache. I don’t want to live and breathe breast cancer. I am still recovering from my most recent surgery. I am still battling this disease, and the reality of an uncertain future, in my head. I am still facing frequent doctor appointments, tests, blood work . . . I am booked with medical stuff well into December already. And, there seems to be no end in sight. But, it is what it is. I deal with it and I hope and believe that one day I will go for months without doctor visits, needles, pokes, prods and scans . . . I dream of having years at a time free from all of these constant physical reminders of what I have been through.

And I know that I will never really be truly free of it . . . not unless and until I forget what I used to look and feel like – that scar free, pre-cancer self . . . not unless or until I regain enough of the old Lisa that I don’t miss her anymore. You see, I simply do not need all of this pink. I AM aware.

Fortunately, Pinktober is almost over. I look forward to saying goodbye to this pernicious pinkification . . . at least for another year.

Love and peace,

Lisa

Thursday . . .

21 Oct
Pastinaca

Parsnips - these are going into my stew 🙂

Well, I had two straight days without a headache. But, now it is back. Dang. It just wears me out. I am really getting tired of this whole thing. This roller coaster ride started 20 months ago. For the past 20 months, I have been in some kind of physical pain every day, it is just a matter of degree. I don’t like to focus on it. It is somehow harder now as I realize that there just simply is not some bright line date where it is “over”. I am still recovering from my last surgery, so I know I should not presume that this is how it is going to be . . . eventually I will be healed from the surgery and that will certainly account for some improvement. But, I am so sore all of the time, my bones ache and I am told that is likely from the chemotherapy. And it may not improve. So annoying. I am, was anyway, a very active person. Right now, just doing the simplest things wear me out. I went to the grocery store to get ingredients for a vegetable stew that I want to make. I found a slow cooker recipe for a root vegetable tagine – it looks very good. Anyway, by the time I got home from the grocery store, I was too tired and in too much pain to do anything.

I am sure my energy level and pain level (God, I hope so) will improve. It just has to as this is really not such a great way to live. I hate this so much, hate writing it, hate feeling it. I have not had a normal nights sleep since my first surgery back in August of 2009. I am hoping that with physical therapy (which I am supposed to be able to start in the next few weeks) that this will improve. Right now I can only sleep on my back. The trouble with that is that my arms do not lay flat, or, I guess it is my shoulders actually (in particular, my right shoulder) that does not lay flat when I am on my back. So, it is painful to lie down, but, obviously necessary. I try to prop my shoulders and arms up with a pillow so that laying on my back doesn’t force my shoulders back in a painful way. But, inevitably I move in the night and so I am never asleep for long.

In the scheme of things, this is nothing. Nothing compared to the months of chemo and radiation. But, somehow, this stuff is harder for me to take now . . . maybe it is because I expected things to be over with by now, maybe I expected to be better, feel better and to truly be able to get back to my life. I am having doubts about working full days. I want to, I need to . . . but, things like cleaning out my refrigerator are too physically taxing . . . clearing off my desk (which I so desperately need to do) is too physically demanding. I have to make choices throughout the day . . . do I do this or do I do that? Because I know that either one will leave me in need of having to go back to bed for a while. I am SO sick of my bed.

Well, I am sure things will get better. I am just getting a bit fed up and I am feeling pretty impatient I guess. Maybe that is a good thing. I don’t know.

Wish me luck 🙂

Oh, and here is the recipe for the Root Vegetable Tagine . . . I am going to add organic beets to this recipe . . . I will let you know how it turns out 🙂

Slow Cooker Root Vegetable Tagine

Ingredients

  • 1 pound parsnips, peeled and diced
  • 1 pound turnips, peeled and diced
  • 2 medium onions, chopped
  • 1 pound carrots, peeled and diced
  • 6 dried apricots, chopped
  • 4 pitted prunes, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon ground turmeric
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
  • 1 tablespoon dried parsley
  • 1 tablespoon dried cilantro
  • 1 (14 ounce) can vegetable broth

Directions

  1. In a slow cooker, toss together the parsnips, turnips, onions, carrots, apricots, and prunes. Season with turmeric, cumin, ginger, cinnamon, cayenne pepper, parsley, and cilantro. Pour in the vegetable broth.
  2. Cover, and cook 9 hours on Low.

Love and peace,

Lisa

24 hours without a headache!!!

19 Oct

Today was the first day that I have had a full 24 hours without a headache since the end of August. Finally an actual break. I think I have not gone for more than a few hours without a headache. So, hopefully I will continue to be headache free. I hope to be writing here in five days reporting that I am still headache free.

Here’s to that . . . wish me luck 🙂

Love and peace,

Lisa

When is a headache just a headache . . .

17 Oct

 

A Vekoma Boomerang roller coaster at Wild Adve...

Image via Wikipedia

 

I don’t like to write about these worries, but, a big part of why I even write this blog in the first place is to get things off of my mind. To dump. I realize that many loved ones read this blog and so I worry about causing worry.

But, I need to write sometimes just so I can go on with my day and function.

I have had headaches now – more days than not – since early September. As a result, I will probably have a scan soon (I will already have a chest CT scan soon . . . I could have it as early as this week . . . if I wanted to . . . BUT . . . I do NOT want to . . . so I am going to wait another week before scheduling it. I need a little more time before I enter that world of waiting for results again). Besides, my oncologist may add another scan (because of the headaches). If she does, I will want to do both on the same day. So, I am going to wait to hear what she has to say about my headaches and whether or not it warrants getting an additional scan. Ugh. I hate this part of the cancer roller coaster – wait, that sounds like there are parts of the cancer roller coaster that I like . . . hmmm, not really 🙂

Well, this morning I discovered a new symptom. Etiology unknown. But, thanks to the internet, within seconds I can discover all kinds of horrific reasons for why I have this symptom. I am choosing to go with the least worrisome reason – hemorrhoids – yeah, isn’t this lovely talk for a Sunday morning? Aren’t you glad you clicked on my blog? Sorry. I should put a warning label of some kind preceding posts like this one.

So the symptom is rectal bleeding . . . just a little. I can’t believe I am writing about this. But, if I am to be honest about all of this cancer crap, then I have to write about all aspects of it, not just those that I think people can stomach. There can’t be the parts that we can’t discuss or share because it is not politically/medically correct . . . right? Otherwise, it would be misleading.

Most every cancer patient experiences intestinal problems due to chemotherapy, pain pills, antibiotics etc. All of these medications wreak havoc on your intestinal tract (not to mention, causing other problems elsewhere in your body).

I am presuming that this new symptom is due to either fissures or hemorrhoids . . . and not due to colon cancer. I wish it were Monday already. If it were I would go straight to my doctor and get something done about this. But, instead, I need to wait until tomorrow. And, yes, worry about it. Damn you cancer. Damn you for making any little thing potentially enormous. F you cancer for doing that to me, to everyone who gets this disease and to their loved ones. Sometimes I think it is just best to keep my mouth shut (except for telling my doctors) because quite frankly what is the point in alarming my Mom, for example? But, I can’t exist in this medical vacuum where I shelter everyone in my life from “it” and the possibilities “it” brings.

I also can not dwell on those possibilities. And, for the most part, I do not. But, it is hard when you are sitting alone – battling a ten day headache and trying to just work through it – to not think about those possibilities. It is, after all, so much easier to think you are well when you actually feel well.

Here’s to feeling and being well.

Today I took charge and put myself back on a more stringent diet – like the one I employed during treatment. If nothing else, it makes me feel like I have some say, some control in this nonsense.

Please continue to keep me in your prayers. I thought I would not need those prayers so much by now. But, I realize I am not, at least mentally I am not, out of the woods.

Thank you for your continued love, support, prayers and positive vibes.

Love and peace,

Lisa

In need of sleep . . .

12 Oct

Today was rough. It was preceded by a rough night . . . I couldn’t sleep and for the first time in some time I thought about, worried about a cancer recurrence. I have had a headache for some time now and that is one of the things that my oncologist wants me to take note of . . . any new headaches, any prolonged headaches etc.

I don’t know why I am having headaches. It could be from stress, diet, lack of sleep . . . who knows. But, it is a bit worrisome. And, when I am alone and can’t sleep the worry creeps in and then sleep is pretty much impossible.

Last night was one of those nights. I didn’t feel well when this morning at all. And, I compounded that feeling by following through on my plan to go to a support group today. That was not a good experience for me today.

Today’s group was somehow very depressing to me. Maybe it was the woman who has had a recurrence of the same kind of cancer that I had. Maybe it was hearing the suggestion that the worst kind of breast cancer to get is HER2 positive breast cancer. I am sure that was not the intended point of the discussion. But, it is what I came away with.

One discussion today was about the different types of breast cancer – triple negative, HER2 positive, “regular” breast cancer . . . etc. I am not sure exactly what is meant by the “regular” kind of breast cancer. But, it is the kind that most women who get breast cancer get . . . so, non-aggressive.

About 70% of breast cancer is not aggressive. As I sat in group today I kept thinking are the survival rates simply reflective of the types of breast cancer? What I mean is that most women survive breast cancer . . . but, most women have a non-aggressive form of breast cancer. So, where does that leave me?

No once can say. My oncologist has told me I am cured. But, she has also said that there is a fifty-fifty chance of recurrence. So then what?

And I know I shouldn’t be thinking that way. But, as I have these aches and pains that I can not adequately explain away, I think about it. I worry about it.

The worry and attitude are always worst when I don’t feel well. I am tired. Very tired of so much pain. I had a great weekend. I went out, spent time with friends and got really tired doing all of that. But, I felt pretty good. Today, however, just wasn’t a good day.

Tomorrow I will see my surgeon. Hopefully it will go well. I am having some new pains that I will bring to his attention. I hope that he will take out the one remaining drain. That would be great and a real relief.

Well, I am super sleepy, hoping to get some sleep soon.

Love and peace,

Lisa

Re-post of a favorite post . . .

19 Sep

One of the benefits of blogging I did not expect was that it would put distance between me and the cancer. It is still in the room . . . reconstructive surgeries and scans ahead of me . . . make it hard to not think about it.  But, looking back, reading old posts, for me really reminds me of how far I have come and how so many have helped me to where I am today. So, thank you all, my family and my friends . . . for rallying behind me, around me, praying for me, cooking for me, driving me to and from and just being there, here, for me.

Here is the re-post of an old post (originally from February 14, 2010 – one year after my ride began):

Last year, on Friday the 13th no less, I received a phone call, instead of a letter, from my doctor’s office about my last mammogram results. When I had the mammogram, my doctor told me that I would either get a letter in a couple of weeks or, if anything showed up, then they would call me. He conducted a physical exam first, told me he didn’t feel anything abnormal in either of my breasts (and neither did I, by the way) and that most likely I would hear in a couple of weeks by mail – meaning nothing to worry about.

Instead, I got a phone call late in the day on Friday, February 13th. I was feverishly grading exams that had to be returned to my students by our final class to be held that Sunday. So, since I didn’t recognize the number, I let it go to voice mail and kept grading.

I checked my voice mail the next day, it was a vague message (naturally), but, I had a pretty good idea of what it meant. The doctor’s assistant actually gave me her cell phone to call her back. So, the next day, on Valentine’s day, I called her. We played phone tag until she finally reached me back (I was on the phone with my brother Steve at the time, telling him that I didn’t get the letter, that instead I got a phone call and that I was worried and so on and then she called). I spoke with her and she told me that the mammogram showed a mass and that I had to have a biopsy.

As much as I hoped that it would be one of those things that turned out benign, I knew that it wouldn’t. I just felt it, I can’t explain it really. I just knew it.

So, I went back to work, finished grading my exams, taught the last class of the course the next day and then on Monday scheduled my biopsy.  They wanted me to do it as soon as possible and so to speed things up, I was told I could pick up the mammogram films and deliver them to the facility where I would have the biopsy.

I of course did this. I remember walking down a long, cold corridor, looking for the room to pick up my films. I remember signing for them. I remember the woman at the counter sealing up the oversize envelope that contained the pictures of my breasts and telling me I was not supposed to look inside, that the information was for the doctor.

I remember walking back through that cold corridor and feeling the weight of the films growing heavier and heavier in my hand, and, as I left the building and walked through the parking lot to my car . . . heavier and heavier still.

I of course opened up the envelope as soon as I got back to my car. I didn’t look at the films, I didn’t want to touch them, as if in doing so, somehow it might spread. I know that sounds weird, but really, I was terrified to even touch or look at the films. But, I did look at the one white piece of paper and I read the typed letters: ” . . . biopsy ordered to confirm malignancy . . . “

I put the paper back in the envelope, sealed it up and drove it to the facility where I would come back a few days later for a biopsy.

I never shared those words with anyone then. Why should I have? What for? No doctor was going to tell me that it couldn’t be benign. No radiologist, no person, no one was going to take away the hope that I would carry for the next weeks that the biopsy would show that the mass was just a benign cyst. And so I went about my business, albeit in a little bit of a fog, but truly hoping for some miracle. For some OTHER explanation than cancer for why I had been so tired the past many months, nearly a year now – for why I just didn’t seem to rebound the way I used to after a long day or week of work.

I promised myself, whatever the outcome, that next year’s Valentine’s Day would be a better one. And I know it will be. I did not get the news that I wanted last year. But, I have learned a lot about life in the past 12 months. I have learned a lot about myself, about regrets, about not having regrets in the future, and about how to live. I have learned how wonderful and beautiful people can be, how near strangers can become some of your most steadfast supporters and cheerleaders and I have gained so much strength from all of you, my family and friends and . . . I am here.

I watched a movie a couple of days ago called “Crazy, Sexy Cancer” (got it from the library). It was supposed to be an upbeat film/documentary about a woman who was diagnosed with cancer. It was, I enjoyed it. But, here is how it started: “Happy Valentine’s Day, you have cancer.” Apparently that was the day that the woman, whom the documentary was about, found out she had cancer.

My Mom and I were watching it together and I turned to her and said THAT was the day, last year, last Valentine’s Day, when I knew I had cancer. Bizarre. Anyway, it’s been a year now. And, assuming all is going well, I am nearly done with treatment (at least all of the IV type of treatment). There are still some medications to take or at least one to take – but, that is to be worked out still. I will have a bunch of tests in May to see where I am at and will have tests forever I guess (since I plan on being around a very long time).

Well, another ramble during another sleepless night – but the night isn’t quite over yet, so maybe I will go get some sleep now :)

Please continue to keep me in your prayers and send positive thoughts my way, I still very much need it. And, Happy Valentine’s Day.

Much love,

L.