Journey Out of Pink

Today I went for my three month check up with the oncologist. I arrived promptly at 9:00 a.m. I always like to arrive a little early for my appointments and since mine was at 9:30 a.m. I relaxed and read a few articles in the waiting room. While sitting there, I glanced up now and then to see other patients arrive. There were some evidently in the middle of treatment as their bald heads announced to everyone in the room. There was a woman who could barely sit in a chair because of pain she was having in her leg and another in a wheelchair, doted on by loving children. I almost felt guilty being there and feeling as good as I did but I was thankful to be in my position. Several minutes passed and I heard my name being called. The medical assistant stood in the doorway waiting for me to join her as we sauntered down the hall toward the scale. I was smiling to myself knowing I was 5 pounds lighter without my prostheses on today. I'd weighed this morning with and without them to se

I have a calendar hanging on the inside door of my pantry. I purposely put it in an inconspicuous place so I wouldn't be tempted to look at it on a daily basis. For the past two years my calendar has been the daily time keeper of my life. Appointments dot the squares in bright red marker so I don't inadvertently miss one of them. Along with those important medical events, I've also squeezed in some happy family events like birthdays and anniversaries. The older I get the more I need to write down lest I forget and so, my calendar has become a treasured possession. There are two important events coming up on my calendar. The first is a visit with my oncologist. That event takes place in exactly 7 days. I have many things to discuss with him including the discovery of two new lumps. My doctor is usually very attentive although he's very busy. I also want to discuss the possibility of scheduling a bone density scan. It's been over 10 years since I've had one and

Last night as I was preparing for bed, I felt a lump just over the end of my left rib cage. At first, I didn't believe what my fingers felt, so I put some lotion on my hand and felt again. Sure enough, there's a nice size lump there and actually, I think there are two. Instantly, I went into freak out mode thinking it's a recurrence of cancer and I wondered if I should have kept on taking those nasty anti-hormone therapy drugs, the ones that gave me all the horrid side effects, instead of opting to go the all natural route...but I felt like the decision I made at the time was the best one for me and I've had two years of pretty good living (other than the swelling and pain from Lymphedema and the constant pain from the bulging disks in my back.) My mind started racing and the shoulda, coulda, wouldas took over and then came the big, old giant what ifs. But I'm not going to borrow trouble. I am going to mention it to my oncologist when I go for my check up on the 30t

It's been exactly 20 months since I completed 28 rounds of radiation. At that time, Piedmont Radiation Oncology was located in an older facility. (They moved to the main hospital about a month after I completed treatment.) While at the new facility today for my checkup, I noticed a beautiful, gold bell on the wall. The receptionist told me it was called a "battle bell." Typically, she said, when a breast cancer survivor completes treatment, she rings the bell and everyone in  the office hears it and applauds. There had been no bell in the old facility so I never had the honor of ringing it. When I completed treatment there, my only reward was knowing radiation was over and being handed a certificate of completion.  Me ringing the battle bell at the radiology office As I was admiring the bell today, the nurse asked if I'd like to ring it since I'd never had the chance when my treatments were completed. I smiled the biggest smile and she asked me to give her

Naked chest and compression sleeve Today I feel bold. For some reason, I just feel like baring it all. Maybe that's a good thing and maybe that's a bad thing but in any event, this is my blog and I can do whatever I choose here...it's my space! So, if you're offended by my photo, I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm not sorry you looked because the reason behind my posting it is to let you see what breast cancer really looks like...and this is the mild version! If you'd seen my chest last year, you would have probably been devastated by the ugliness of it. But after 23 months, my scars have almost completely healed. One area is still pretty reddish looking because of a second surgery to remove some necrotic tissue but the original incision has all but faded away. My incisions travel horizontally across my chest and just above them is my Phoenix tattoo. Yes! I have a tattoo. It is symbolic to me and symbolizes rising above the pain and trauma of breast cancer

"...Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5b Sunrise on the beach at Cape San Blas, Florida New mercies every morning, Grace for every day, New hope for every trial, And courage all the way. —McVeigh One of the things I enjoy most is being able to walk barefoot along the beach in the wee hours of the morning. Usually, I'm all alone except for a few birds as we wait expectantly for the rising of the sun. As I walk along the shore, I spend time in prayer. That precious solitude is sacred to me. In reverent awe, I pause to reflect over my life and I am filled with gratitude. I watch the birds catching tiny fish in the surf as the sun peeks over the horizon. The sky begins to change from a dusky gray to a soft, pastel pink as the sun works its way up. I raise my 35mm camera to my eye and begin to shoot. Every few seconds the sky changes color. Robin's egg blue appears, then subtly changes into a rich orange as the sun rises

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to... Today has been a really rough day for me. It didn't start out that way, in fact, I had a lot of energy earlier in the day and did all of my housework including mopping the floors. I was on a roll, or so I thought and then around 5:30 p.m. my arms had become so swollen and achy.  I performed the manual lymphatic drainage like I'd been taught by the therapist but it didn't seem to help. I was so frustrated and upset as I realized this is a life long condition. I will NEVER be able to be rid of it and that's when I started bawling my eyes out. My sweet husband came to the rescue and held me in his arms and let me just continue crying. I told him how horrible I felt and that I wished it would just go away. He tried to empathize with me and I told him he had no idea how I really felt. As I explained the heaviness and tightness from the lymphedema, he said, "I know honey. I can see the swelling. I see it every day.&q

I never thought I could ascribe a feeling to an inanimate object but I did sometime within the last 23 months. The feeling began as sheer dislike as the first batches of medical bills from my recent bout with breast cancer began to roll in. Then it grew from dislike into anger as the bills seemed to compound daily. It was no shock to me to be receiving bills for recent medical expenses. I expected to find bills whenever I checked the mail, especially the first year after my diagnosis but months and months afterward, it was getting a little bit old. I wondered what the grand total of my medical expenses have been to date. At the end of last year, I tallied them up the ones I had received and was incredulous when I saw the number... $166,000 and change! I never dreamed that having breast cancer could be so expensive and that number didn't even include followup visits to doctors, lab tests, medication, MRI'S, PET scans, or any other types of imaging...oh, no! That total only i

Three words. Just three little words. They can change your life forever. For those of us who’ve heard them, we know the instant trepidation and fear that accompanies those three words, “You have cancer.” Almost immediately after hearing the words, the mailbox begins to fill with all sorts of pamphlets and information on cancer or cancer related items. The calendar is quickly inked with one appointment after another and life begins to revolve around a disease. That word, cancer, the one we all hate, snakes its way into almost every conversation and suddenly, there’s an internal radar that hones in on any and everything beginning with the letter C. After processing the initial shock of the diagnosis, treatment begins. Life becomes a whirlwind aggressively attacking those cells and doing whatever is necessary to eradicate them. Everything seems to move at warp speed and then, just like an F5 tornado, the storm is over and you’re left in the wake to pick up the pieces. Life is supposed

Yesterday was the 29th annual National Cancer Survivor's day. I didn't do much to celebrate other than wear my NCSD tshirt and survivor medallion. I'm sure a lot of people celebrated with parties and grand events but I'm saving my personal celebration for July 9th when I'll celebrate my 2nd year of being N.E.D. (having no evidence of active disease.) I've asked my oncologist over and over again when he will say I'm cancer free and every single time I do, he just ignores me. I don't think doctors like to ever say you're cancer free because really and truly, they can't. There's no way, even with all the MRI'S, CT scans, bone scans, PET scans and other lab tests that can be performed to definitively say there are no cancer cells lurking anywhere in your body. That's why doctors like to say, "we see no evidence of active disease." Some doctors will say you're in remission, but what does that really mean? If you’ve been

Yesterday, we had some powerful storms roll through our neighborhood. At first it was just raining really hard and then the winds picked up. Things began slamming against the house and I was afraid windows would be broken. The rain came in torrents and it was difficult to see what was happening outside. I didn't know if we were under a severe weather advisory or not because my weather radio did not sound an alarm. As things seemed to progress and the winds grew stronger, I wondered if perhaps a tornado was approaching. I decided to be safe and go into an interior room of my house until things calmed down a little. While I was in that little room, I began to pray. I asked God to put a hedge of protection over our house and keep me safe. After about an hour, the rains began to dwindle and the wind stopped blowing. I was thankful. I have many a brush with death over my 58 years of life. The first came when I was 13. My gallbladder ruptured allowing gangrene to spread quickly through

Ah, the wonderful days of Summer! How I love them, especially when they're spent at the beach! For the past week, I've basked in the warmth of the beautiful Florida sun, felt the balmy ocean breeze upon my cheek, and let the cares of the world slip far, far away. It was a lovely time to relax and refresh but now that I'm back, I can't help but think of how things would have been so very different had this trip been made before my surgery. One thing I really enjoy while on a beach vacation is getting in the water. It doesn't really matter whether it's pool or ocean water, I just love the water. This year, I didn't get in the water one single time. The reason may seem prideful and silly, but I just didn't relish putting on a bathing suit without having breasts to fill it out. I knew I'd look like a freak of nature with two hollowed out cavities in the chest wall of my suit. The only way to remedy that would have been if I'd had prostheses specifi