The reality rollercoaster

So I know that you all are thinking that I'm just this incredible hunk of strength and courage--at least all your cards are cheering me on and complimenting me on my ability to keep moving forward, but the real truth is that I have lots of moments where I am scared spit less to think about the reality of Cancer as part of my existence.

Hard to imagine that a mere month ago I was carefree and worry free (well, okay, I was stressing out about how to juggle all my commitments, plant my fall flowers and get dinner made all in one day). I was watching the trees turn fall colors and hoping that I could get myself organized enough to pull off a stamp class, do my volunteer stuff at the school and improve my bowling average only bowling on one league a week. Kids were healthy, Ken was healthy, employment stable, fridge stocked, everyone had clothes and shoes to wear....life seemed pretty good....even better, I was on track for having my own dentist and doctor appointments checked off the list of things to do for the year. I celebrated by 38th birthday on August 9th, I rode a 68 mile bike ride with Cathryn in June and felt great afterward, went to my first rock concert (BON JOVI ROCKS!) teeth are being aligned properly for ache less chewing and smiling and I'm thinking that I'm approaching the big 40 in reasonable physical and mental condition...and I'm sooo looking forward to Andria starting Kindergarten so that I can catch up on some of those projects that have been piling up for the last few years of raising kids.

And then my internist suggested that I get a mammogram just to check things out even though she was sure it would be nothing.

One little statement that gave me a serious paradigm shift. For the first few appointments it was easy to think this was all just a little bump in the road... I did afterall ride in the Josie memorial Ride the day after I had the biopsy done...life was moving forward with just a little nagging thought that something might be wrong. But I'm still not sure that I really considered that I might have Cancer--and I certainly did no research on the possiblities. So when that phone call came that sent me straight to the couch in tears....and then to the office with the door closed to call Ken and MaurLo to start spreading the word--that was the moment I first considered that I wouldn't be around to be old enough to drive my kids crazy at the thought that I might live forever!

Even two weeks later I am not sure that I can think in termsof my own mortality because I want to be around for all the little moments between the bigger events of high school graduations, college graduations, marriages, birth of grandchildren, growing old with Ken.......I can't even bear the sadness when I find a picture drawn by Andria before I leave for the hospital of a mom and a little girl--both with tears dripping off their faces, or the fear in Andria's face when she comes to the hospital thinking that I might not be the same Mom she saw leave for the hospital. Or the cute eyes of Rachel as she gives me a tummy hug and asks if I'm feeling okay and her eyes on my face as I'm blogging to see if the tears are flowing or if I'm handling the emotion okay for the moment. Ryan is constantly hugging me and checking to see if I need help or if I'm doing okay...and Cathryn is the always observant child that I can't hide my sadness or concerns from--so she's always trying to keep everyone comforted and busy when my tears are upsetting the little ones. It's too much for a Mom to watch her kids hurt..especially when you know they know what it feels like to lose someone they love. So because my kids don't deserve to have another heart ache, I will choose the most drastic medical options for improving the odds that I will be around to grow old and drive them crazy.

Even with that resolve--I have moments when I fall apart--like the moment when my doctor mentions the word Chemotherapy and I realize that this Cancer thing is more serious than the 1mm "zit" (Ken's descriptive word) that is putting my life into a tailspin for a season. Or the moment I see new bruising and swelling after my drains come out and I panic and think that my skin is dying or an infection has started (luckily Ken has connections that let me see the doctors after clinic hours). Or the moment I have to tell my kids that the hope we had of avoiding Chemo is no longer a reality....and that yes, there is a possibility that my hair may fall out and that our hope of a "season" with cancer has now turned into more like a yearlong process. Or the moment a friend walks into the room with a bottle of lotion and offers to rub my feet to help me relax and take a nap and I realize how profoundly I miss having my Mom around to take care of me and my family. Dogfood!! This really stinks!

Then I look at my kids and Ken and realize how lucky I am that I had that random Mammogram, that they saw something they were concerned enough with to reqest a biopsy, that those guide wires were in the right spot to catch a 1 mm spot of invasive cancer that suggested I should have a mastectomy, that I had a mastectomy not a lumpectomy and that it turned up another 1.1cm spot of invasive cancer that they couldn't even see on the MRI, that I took off both breasts in one shot because the likelihood of reccurence with the larger cancer jumps to 30% and the aggressive behavior of the cancer is scarier because the mastectomy comes back Her2neu positive insteaad of Her2neu negative like the biopsy. How did I get so lucky as to have an random early detection when so many women out there are finding their own lumps and being diagnosed at a much later and more difficult time to be treated????

So for the moment the tears of fear are being replaced by tears of gratitude and a resolve to make the most of every minute that I have been given--As Dr. Neumayer says I just got a second chance at life! So like that county music song "Live like you Are dying"--I'm not planning on riding any steel bulls or going skydiving, but I do plan on 'loving deeper, speaking sweeter' and enjoying each day just a bit more than I have in the past. Tears and joy all in one bundle--this experience with cancer will be quite the ride--I have always been a fan of big rollercoasters...but the amusement park variety not the emotional variety!!!