Let's talk Layton

I just got a free magazine in the mail called 'Glow'. I'm not sure why I got it but it looks like its distributed by Shopper's Drug Mart. But Lord knows I've bought a ton of funky colored nail polishes to put me on the mailing list! (Its my latest addicition. I actually just bought another one tonight!). Anyway, back to my point. I flipped through the magazine and found an article written by a 29 year old breast cancer survivor and learned about a new website for the young cancer crowd. Which then led me to her personal blog (gotta love the name of it...'bumpy boobs'). One of her posts was about Jack Layton, the Canadian politician who was recently diagnosed with cancer twice and who we sadly just lost to cancer. What I liked about her blog post was that she addressed the fear that I'm sure every cancer survivor feels when they hear about someone who just died of cancer. Especially when its all over the news each and every day. When I heard the news my stomach felt sick with sadness for Jack and his family...but I also felt a deep, hard hitting fear in my belly. He was so positive, he was so brave, he was so determined, he fought hard. I didn't even think to acknowledge my fear. I just felt it and then stuffed it down. That scary reminder that I had cancer and this could have been me. I knew I was a little obsessed about watching the news, hearing his story, posting my tributes on Facebook. All authentic. Definately. But masked behind it was the fear too. So, thank you bumpy boob blogger for helping me acknowledge my fear and for letting me know that someone else felt it too. Its OK to feel the fear and its honest. But even more than this, I was so, so, SO grateful to learn that Jack Layton worte a 'letter to Canadians'. This blogger shared some of his words which I MUST share with you. During his last months or days, Jack Layton had the kindness, strength, thoughtfulness, and absolute selflessness to continue to pass on hope to anyone with (or without) cancer. I know he wasn't top of the politician list for many Canadians when it came to voting, but this guy has become one of my heroes. Here's the part of the letter I read today. As bumpy boob bloggers says, "its touching, and its for us"...

"To other Canadians who are on journeys to defeat cancer and live their lives, I say this: please don't be discouraged that my own journey hasn't gone as well as I'd hoped. You must not lose your own hope. Treatments and therapies have never been better in the face of this disease. You have every reason to be optimisitic, determined, and focused on the future. My only other advice is to cherish every moment with those you love at every stage of your journey, as I have done this summer."

I'm still feeling such amazement about how incredibly thoughtful Jack was to continue to inspire hope when his had likely run out. Right to the end. I think all Canadians saw the real Jack for the first time this year and actually heard what he was all about. Including me. I had no idea. Here's to you Jack. Here's to you. Your light shines on.

I love country music

And I loves me some Scotty McHotty! Aka Scotty McCreery. I'm addicted to American Idol and this kid won last season. I love his voice. He's got a new single coming out tomorrow. Along with my FAVORITE country singer of all time, George Strait whose new album is coming out soon too. Can't wait to buy both actually. Just thought I'd spread the country love. Keep your ears out for Scotty's new single on the radio tomorrow and have a listen. And listen for George's new song "Here for a Good Time" which is my new theme song for life!

Back on Canadian Soil

Made it home last night and unpacked the UHaul trailer today. 4 days of travel. Its beautiful weather here...so cool and so green, a nice change from the desert sun and heat and shrubs (which I love equally). Uneventful trip including the border crossing. Always a good thing. Took a detour through Kalispell this time which was a good change of scenery. I know those roads far too well. Man, is it ever beautiful in that area. When I make or win my millions, I see a Montana cabin on the lake in my future. The Holiday Inn Express in Kalispell is a gem of a hotel if you ever need to make a stop in town. Thankfully, in Glacier National Park, we were not allowed to take 'the road to the sun' with the trailer like our GPS instructed. Made a u-turn at the gate which made me very happy! I'm not a fan of extreme mountain roads with severe drop offs. I've unpacked the UHaul and now that I have cooled off, I'm going to go drop it off and tootle around Cowtown. Get reacquainted.

08/18/2008

August 18, 2008. 3 years to the day. This is the waiting room I was waiting in for 45 minutes just to get into an exam room to wait even more. It was about 1:00 pm. I drove from work. My primary physician was away for 2 weeks and I was awaiting results on my core biopsy and I couldn't wait 2 weeks. Looking at the date, I'm starting to think that 8 isn't my lucky number. Or is it the opposite?

So we wait together in the waiting room, then get sent to an exam room. After waiting in there for about 20 more minutes (can you imagine the agony waiting for THESE kind of results?), the nurse comes in, our hearts literally stop beating, and she tells us that the fax machine isn't work working. (insert a brief sigh of relief and then more stress here). She tells us to stay put, that they're going to try a different fax machine. We compose ourselves again and put our brave faces back on. Tick tock, tick tock, another 20-30 minutes go by. The door opens again. Our hearts stop again. I swear you could hear our last gasp. It's the nurse. Fax #2 isn't working either. Seriously???!!! We've been waiting over an hour and a half in the worst kind of way imaginable. I have never felt such a sick feeling of worry in my stomach before.

So, we're told to go home, come back tomorrow because the clinic will courier the report over in the morning. The staff reassure us that we will bypass any waiting at this point after all the waiting we did that day. Minor consolation.

We drive home. As soon as we get home, there is a phone message. The clinic got the report and wants us to drive back to the clinic THAT day. So we do. Barely in the house, keys dangling from the front door, we walk right back outside, down the front steps, and get back in the car. I know now that this is NOT a good sign and my gut, which has been feeling like something is wrong for days, knows deep down that it's not looking good. We get to the clinic, they take us back to an exam room immediately and soon after, a nice female doctor comes in and sits down. We sit in silence and stare. I'm more worried about P because he looks worse than I do.

"Sorry guys", says the nice female doctor, my heart sinks, and then she continues to say, "it's cancer". P looks like he's in shock, stunned by a taser and terrified. I am not surprised at what I hear but I can't say that there wasn't just a little bit of hope that I might get the 'all clear'. I don't remember all of my thoughts but I do remember composing myself enough and literally FORCING myself to ask THE scariest question you'll ever ask in your life (which I hope you never have to). "What is my prognosis?" I knew I had to ask but I did not want to hear the answer for fear that it would mean the end of me right then and there. THANKFULLY, the doctor brightened up and said, "oh, really good"! she rattled off some good statistics and started to outline the process from that day forward...tests...surgery...

From there began a whirlwind of tests to find out what stage the cancer was at, was it aggressive (herceptin +) or not, was it ER/PR positive (hormones), did it spread to my lymph nodes...that last question you don't find out the answer to until AFTER surgery. The agony of waiting each week for each answer was debilitating. Not all answers come the same week, they come one by one, week by week. The fear I felt inside, my life flashing before me, planning my funeral, imagining life ending and not being here anymore, imagining everyone left behind, have I been living the life I have imagined...SICK with worry is the best way to describe it. But, 3 days after diagnosis, we still held true to our camping trip in BC and rolled out the Boler and headed down the highway.

Being in Kelowna was harder for P, imagining all my years there as a carefree little girl and the unfairness that today that same girl has cancer. I enjoyed being in nature in a place that always fills me with the best feeling and warmest memories. Minus the sleepless nights when my mind had time to think and worry about dying.

To make a long story short...things happened fast. I had surgery 2 weeks after diagnosis. The cancer was barely stage 2 (2a they called it) in 2 different places. I had two kinds, DCIS and invasive ductal carcinoma. It wasn't HER+ (meaning not aggressive) and it was a common and treatble kind. It didn't spread to my lymph nodes. My surgeon was Dr. Steve Martin which makes me laugh and he did an awesome job. Even came into the recovery room to tell me that it didn't spread to the lymph nodes. So, despite a shitty diagnosis, the aces were in my corner on most everything else in terms of cancer.

Its been a long, hard 3 years of initial rehab (physical) and emotional ups and downs. I cheer every time I raise my arms above my head (couldn't lift them past my waist after surgery). I cheer every time I walk up a full flight of stairs without having to stop like an old woman to catch my breath like I had to after my months of chemo. I no longer plan my funeral and I have worked hard at making life changes that will set me up for success. I don't worry AS much that every little ache and pain in my body is cancer but I'd be lying if I didn't say I still do now and then. And I don't sweat the small stuff.

But it was my friends and family that were the strongest medicine. And I survived chemo and radiation which were back up fighters in my opinion. I am blessed and grateful for the life I have led and the life I have left to live. But mostly for the people in my life who were there for me and got me through.

Advice from a cancer SURVIVOR: Be good to those around you. Show up and be there. Live life and don't hold back or put off dreams for tomorrow. Just don't. Live in the NOW. Don't worry about how much you weigh, what you look like, or material things and money. Enjoy every breath, every moment, everyone, and every day. Do it for the people who never made it even this far.

Happy birthday to me! Get out there this October and run or walk for breast cancer. Help a girl out.

Weekend update

I got the job at Heartland and now just need to decide if I'm going to take it. I'm working on another idea as well which has me EXCITED. Still loving it here in NM. Need to get to Chimayo and check out the new Ranch restaurant post fire and the church. That and a weekend at Tamaya are on the upcoming agenda. Spent the weekend eating, outside in the sun (muy caliente!), and doing my P90X. Only 3-4 weeks into it but feeling stronger for sure. Its nice to be able to do it daily like you're supposed to. When I first tried P90X last year, thanks to the prolonged effects of chemo, I was getting heart palpitations and had to ease off. I'd wake up with tachycardia (and I'm talking RACING pulse people!) and almost headed to the ER a few times. Small triumphs. Life is good.

I'm not a wino...

I'm a champagne-o! I love champagne. I don't like like it, I LOVE it. And up until this year, I've allowed myself to drink champagne ONLY on special occasions. Which means twice a year or maaaaybe a few more. On Christmas and at birthdays or weddings. That's the rule. Where did I learn THAT?! I'm not a big drinker but if truth be told, I did start drinking the stuff in my toddler years (remember Baby Duck?). Apparently I was born with a taste for the "bubbly". And I deny myself by rationing out a few measly glasses a year. What the funk? I welcomed in my 40th year with a bottle of what is to me, liquid crack and suddenly a light bulb went on, "I think I can drink this...whenever I WANT to"! And I have been! My first post birthday drink was when I ordered a glass of champagne in a local hotel bar. I noticed that my friend had already ordered a glass for hersef when I arrived. Are my eyes deceiving me? Validation! This meant I could do it too! I totally felt like I was breaking a cardinal rule or worse, the law! It was barely midday in the middle of summer for crying out loud and it wasn't Christmas...I wasn't celebrating a birthday or at a wedding. What will people think?! I imagined the looks and stares I was about to get. I'm such a rebel! But the server didn't even flinch. No disapproving glances or heckles from the bar crowd. Cha-ching! Nobody cares! I'm out of the closet! (insert happy dance here). Let me share another little piece of golden wisdom for you fellow, closet champagne drinkers. One word. 'Prosecco' (a.k.a. champagne deemed 'sparkling wine' only because it lacks the being-grown-in-the-champagne-region factor). Point is, in the early days (which was really just a few weeks ago) it made me feel better ordering it because it didn't sound so fancy schmancy and celebratory. A good starter decoy if you're laying low and still too timid to go balls out and order "champagne". Plus, it tastes delicious. I got over the self consciousness of ordering actual champagne pretty fast though and I risk my reputation regularly. I order either one fearlessly now. That's right people, FEARLESSLY. I'm loud and I'm proud! I drink champagne on any given occasion! We exist! Best revelation of the year so far. Cheers!