Cancerversary

October 22, 2009

It was just another day - pretty much like every other day - except that I would not be going to work. My new doctor had scheduled some routine tests at Mercy as part of my new patient physical. I emphasize "routine" because that is exactly what they were supposed to be. There were no indications that they would be anything other than that. One of these was a mammogram.

I should have realized something was wrong when they came upstairs to get me about an hour after the mammogram was done.  I was waiting for them to administer the anaesthesia for the next test when they informed me that I needed to go back downstairs for one more picture. Odd, yes, but for whatever reason, it never occurred to me that anything was wrong.

When I returned to 8th floor and the first of 3 people came in to attempt my IV, someone else came in to tell Ken there was someone there to see him. Again, very odd. He left and came back several minutes later. I asked what that was about and he said Dr. Lucke's nurse wanted him to schedule an appointment. What? And still, I ignored the fact that something very unusual was going on which must mean that something was very wrong.

At home later, still very tired from the anaesthesia, I couldn't stay awake. I fell asleep and stayed that way for hours. The next thing I knew, Ken was waking me up. I asked why and that is when I heard the words...
You have breast cancer. We have to be back at Dr. Lucke's office at 4:00 to discuss it.

October 22, 2009 - one year ago today.

I'm reading the book, Promise Me, and in it, Nancy Brinker, founder of Susan G. Komen For the Cure, shared what Betty Ford said to her after her diagnosis...

"Take a day to cry. Get angry. Throw a tantrum. Feel terrible for yourself. Get it all out of your system, then get over it. Get on with it. Get through it."

For some reason, I skipped that first part. I never allowed myself that option. I think that's why now, a year later, I'm struggling with it.



Labor Day, 2009 - Shortly before diagnosis

I had no idea, on that day, just how much I had ahead of me. I had no idea just how difficult this journey was going to be.

Also in the book, Nancy Reagan shared "People are incredibly kind and sympathetic. I can't begin to say how much this means and how helpful it is. Yet, there is a feeling of loneliness when you're in this situation. Not that people aren't supportive - they are. But no one can really know what it's like unless they've traveled this path...each day is different, and you get up, put one foot in front of the other, and go."



Labor Day, 2010 - Nearly 1 year after diagnosis

That's me. Anyone who really knows me knows that is exactly what I did. And, day by day, step by step, I've moved through it. Today, on my cancerversary, I celebrate how far I've come. I celebrate triumph over fear and hope over despair. And I celebrate everyone who has been walking with me on this journey. I still suffer from extreme fatigue, a feeling of bone chilling cold, chemo brain, and a slight neuropathy in the tips of my fingers and toes, but I'm alive - small price to pay.

I'm not sure, technically, if your cancerversary is supposed to be celebrated a year after your diagnosis, or a year after surgery, or a year after you start treatment or what, but hey...I think I'll just celebrate them all. Unfortunately there are many who don't get to celebrate any of these milestones. So, I'm just going to make life one big celebration. Yay me! The party starts now. Going to Des Moines this weekend for a wedding. Kelli and Brett will be there too. So looking forward to it.

Later.