A good reminder

http://www.breastcancer.org/research_diet_082806.html

This study should remind me to keep my weight low.... I'm glad I gave away all of my "big" clothes because it's important to me as a breast cancer survivor to keep that weight off. The statistics are particularly powerful if you consider that chemo only improved my chances by, perhaps, 7-10%...so the improvement brought about by a healthy weight loss is particularly important and substantial.

I know it's only been a few months since I started maintaining my new, healthy weight, but I am DETERMINED to keep it off forever. You may quote me on that, and gently remind me that I am perfectly capable of doing so, should I ever start to slip. :-)

A survivor story from the 3-Day - 27 years!

At the end of the 3-Day, the survivors line up in pairs and march into the arena together after all the other walkers are already in for the closing ceremony. While we were watching the long stream of walkers go by us - 2300 people - the 400 survivors stood and talked about who they were, and how far out they were.

The woman behind me in the line was 27 years out; she's 69, and she was 32 when she was diagnosed. She didn't remember her staging, but she had a Halsted radical mastectomy and chemotherapy, so that tells us something. She had three small children at the time, and she told me that, like many of us, she just prayed that she would see them grow old.

When she was diagnosed she made herself a tape that she played for herself every night, in which she told herself the story of her future life, saying things like, "I will see my son graduate from high school. I will attend my daughter's wedding. I will rock my grandchildren to sleep." I don't know if this helped or not....but it made me think I might do the same thing (on CD!). I know that a positive attitude will not cure cancer (if it did I wouldn't have gotten it in the first place!) but it sounds very affirming and life-embracing to me.

She's a grandma now to SIX grandchildren; she has rocked them all to sleep. She didn't miss any graduations, nor weddings. She's still NED, and at 69 she was spry enough to walk 60 miles and smile at the end, offering encouragement to many of us.

There wasn't a dry eye around.

A survivor story from the 3-Day - 27 years!

At the end of the 3-Day, the survivors line up in pairs and march into the arena together after all the other walkers are already in for the closing ceremony. While we were watching the long stream of walkers go by us - 2300 people - the 400 survivors stood and talked about who they were, and how far out they were.

The woman behind me in the line was 27 years out; she's 69, and she was 32 when she was diagnosed. She didn't remember her staging, but she had a Halsted radical mastectomy and chemotherapy, so that tells us something. She had three small children at the time, and she told me that, like many of us, she just prayed that she would see them grow old.

When she was diagnosed she made herself a tape that she played for herself every night, in which she told herself the story of her future life, saying things like, "I will see my son graduate from high school. I will attend my daughter's wedding. I will rock my grandchildren to sleep." I don't know if this helped or not....but it made me think I might do the same thing (on CD!). I know that a positive attitude will not cure cancer (if it did I wouldn't have gotten it in the first place!) but it sounds very affirming and life-embracing to me.

She's a grandma now to SIX grandchildren; she has rocked them all to sleep. She didn't miss any graduations, nor weddings. She's still NED, and at 69 she was spry enough to walk 60 miles and smile at the end, offering encouragement to many of us.

There wasn't a dry eye around.

The Breast Cancer 3-Day: The first installment

Here is what I have started writing about the 3-Day. I missed so much information about the event in this telling, and there are funny stories to tell, and touching ones, and I need to add them....but here is a taste of my experiences at the 3-Day. More to follow!
----------------------------
I got home from the Seattle Breast Cancer 3-Day yesterday, and I am still on a high. Here are a few notes that I just can't resist sharing...

This event was INCREDIBLE for me. First of all, I had been using the 3-Day as a fantasy to get me through the most heinous parts of treatment for over a year. Sitting in chemo, burning from rads, and recovering from surgeries, I would close my eyes and envision crossing the finish line....strong and healthy enough to have walked 60 miles, with my hair ruffling in the breeze, surrounded by friends, proving that the cancer was BEHIND me. The event became the symbol of good health for me, and I sometimes wondered if I'd ever get there, if I'd ever actually be well enough to partake in it.

I was honored to walk with nine friends for the entire event: Michele, Lori, Susan, Carolyn, Molly, Darcy, Bryona, Katie, and Sara. Joining us on the last day as an honorary team member was my oncologist, Kristine (now officially one of the girls, not just my oncologist). Being surrounded by these friends, and spending three full days, including two nights of sleeping in tents just feet apart from one another, was the most incredible girl-bonding experience ever. Suddenly, we were all twelve years old, pulling practical jokes, laughing, singing, resting, eating, and talking talking talking talking. Our husbands and children were at home; there were no chores; no jobs; no email; no phones (except when we chose to call home on our cellphones to check in....and then we'd turn the phones off!). We were there to take care of ourselves, and of each other, and it was incredible.

The first day, after opening ceremonies, as all 2700 walkers were released, it was like one giant walker traffic jam, and things were slloooooowwwwwww... too slow for me. I found myself having something to prove, and I would have run if they'd let me (actually, during a 3-Day, you can get disqualified for running...."it's a walk, not a race!"). I had all kinds of energy, and I felt the full health of my fantasies, and I was practically giddy about it - I felt like I could FLY. When the crowds loosened up after the first pit stop, I started walking faster, and faster, until I was doing a walk just short of running. Every time I called out "On your left!" and passed someone, I felt a little surge of adreneline, and a happiness that seemed to fill my entire self. THIS was health. This was the fantasy come true.

I walked like a fool, but took my time at pit stops to visit with my friends (some walked with me, some came a bit slower), snacking on the billions of calories worth of food provided (string cheese, bagels with cream cheese, peanuts, bananas, oranges, pretzels, potato chips, granola bars and more) and refilling my water bottle (sports drinks were provided but I find them heinous and unnecessary). I arrived at camp with a smile a mile wide, and had plenty of time to shower (they have mobile showers), set up my tent, check out the camp, and hang out before dinner at 5pm.

The walk itself was just so FUN. People lined the streets to cheer, which shouldn't matter (it's about personal health and fundraising, which I had already accomplished) but the kindness of these strangers was INCREDIBLE. In addition to the pit stops every 3 miles, people stood at the sidelines handing out candy, or popsicles, or watermelon (my personal favorite!), or misting the walkers with spray bottles. People held signs saying, "Thank you" and "This survivor thanks you" and cheering for strangers and friends alike. Some people got REALLY into cheering, and dressed in silly costumes (mostly pink!), or set up stereos pumping out music, or they passed out little trinkets for the walkers to pin to their shirts or hats. Some of these self-appointed cheerers actually stationed themselves at multiple stations throughout the day, so that we would see them time and time again. (My favorites were Dan, Moose, and Bob: a father, grown son, and best friend, who clapped their hearts out for us, wore pink pompoms on their shoes, and treated every walker they saw like an angel. WOW.) I was also honored to be visited by Ryan, Tessa, Shep, and my mom and dad, which was wonderful: I was so glad to share some of this with them. Ryan held a sign "Go Team Kristina" up for us, and it felt good to hug each member of my family, and to feel their incredible support.

On the first day, I was just filled with so much energy that I practically (but not quite) ran the event, and it all passed in a blur. On the second day, I walked more with my team, or large parts of my team....and we found ourselves singing to pass the time. Yes, singing. It was crazy! I can't carry a tune but we found ourselves belting out songs from Grease and The Sound of Music and all kinds of other incredibly cheesy stuff. I think that we sounded particularly good on "My Girl" and "Lean on Me," but by then my standards were not particularly high....I was just so filled with love for my friends, and for the moment, that the craziness of it all filled me with happiness.

The first night, the entertainment was karaoke, which I wasn't into...but the second night, the entertainment was a local band called the Aphrodisiacs who play 70s cover tunes like "Celebration" and Earth, Wind and Fire tunes. I could not believe it, but after walking 40 miles over two days, and after hearing stories from one survivor and one co-survivor that had me shaking with emotional tears (God I hate this disease!!!)...I found myself dancing and singing along (this time, thankfully for everyone around me, I was drowned out by the music playing!).

The final day, with Kristine joining us, was tons of talking, and the team stayed all together. We were all happy to be getting done with the walk...but we were all a bit sad that it was ending, too. A girl-fest like this one doesn't happen often, and I could not believe how much fun each of us seemed to be having, despite blisters and various small ailments. I got to know Kristine as a friend, and we talked about everything under the sun, and she shared stories happy and sad about her experiences as a oncologist who works exclusively with breast cancer patients.

As we walked in to the end, we (all 11 of us, with other walkers sometimes joining in) sang "You've Got a Friend." I cried as I listened to my friends singing, and as I heard the words "You just call out my name, and you know whereever I am, I'll come running..." and thought about how they'd run to my side. I thought about telling Carolyn, who lives two states away from me, that I had cancer, and how she showed up at my door two days before my mastectomy. I thought about all of them, walking with me....wow.

As we got into camp, I started to think that I didn't want to leave my team during closing ceremonies....they had been so instrumental in my experience that I didn't want to separate from them. Michele, upon hearing this, put her arm around me, and said, "You know that we are at your side on this journey, and throughout all of this. But you also know that there are some things that you have had to do all by yourself, that we can not help you with, and that you have been strong enough to do them. Now you will do this, and you will know that we are still at your back, even when we're not by your side." I wept....and agreed with her. It's a perfect metaphor.

While we were in the holding area, waiting to be called into the arena, Michele (who always knows the right thing to say!) asked me what the high point of the previous year had been. I flashed back through the entire year, the highs and lows, and it seemed like an hour before I could answer. My voice shaking, I knew I was telling the truth when I said, "Right now. Here, together. I made it!"

My friends entered the arena before me, in the long parade of walkers, and I huddled under a shady tent with the other survivors. The survivors, all in matching pink t-shirts for this final part, started talking together....my partner was a five year survivor, I'm a one year survivor. As I mentioned in my other post, the woman behind me was a 27 year survivor, and we all cheered and hugged her. She asked me about my treatment, and she looked me in the eye and said, "You are going to make it. You will rock your grandbabies to sleep." I sobbed again, and held her tight in my arms for a moment. Funny, I never learned her name, but I will never forget that moment.

And then we marched into ceremonies. I wish I could tell you about them, but I don't remember most of them, because I was so lost in the emotion of it all, and in the realization that the event was over. I do know that I cried.

There are many other stories I could tell, and some of them are silly/stupid/goofy, and others are touching, but I will leave it here for now, as it's 11:06am and I must go to bed.

If you made it reading this far, thank you.