Shaking

Today I learned that one of my Warrior Women team members has advanced to stage IV breast cancer.

That's a clinical sentence....let me try it again.

Today I found out that Kristin, an amazing, spirited, incredibly positive (truly, I look like a whiner next to her) warrior, has just learned that the breast cancer she's been fighting for less than a year has come back, and it's in her lungs.

Many of you have heard me mention Kristin's story, but let me retell a little of it. She was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 6 weeks pregnant. At 8 weeks pregnant, she had a mastectomy. She did AC through her second trimester, and then delivered her baby - a gorgeous baby girl, Ellie...healthy and strong, with more hair than her mama had! - in April. In May, Kristin came and helped out at the yard sale....she's fighting for a cure for everyone, not just herself.

While pregnant, and in chemo, Kristin worked 20 hours a week, taught aerobics (that one blows my mind!), and was a caring mother to daughter Luci and loving wife to Craig. Kristin's kick-ass attitude was to take no prisoners: she is fighting this disease with everything she's got, and she's determined to find a cure by the time our daughters are old enough to worry. I am honored to walk with her as a Warrior Woman.

Kristin is still in chemo - one Taxol left. I do not know what the new treatment plan will look like.

There is nobody fighting breast cancer harder than Kristin; there is nobody with a more positive attitude. The word inspiration is completley overused in the case of cancer survivorship, but really, she's off the charts. Kristin inspires me.

The news that she has another, even harder, battle to fight, feels like a punch in the face. My reaction is physical - when I found out, I thought for a moment I might throw up, and then I burst into real tears. Not little leaking at the eyes tears.....sobbing, wrenching weeping.

I feel outrage, agony, terror, pain, disbelief, shock, fear. I weep for Kristin, and I weep for myself because her path may be my path, too. (Please do not reply to this with platitudes. Sympathy towards these feelings is welcome, of course, but I can not bear to hear "this won't happen to you" right now. Nobody knows what will happen. We hope for the best, but I also fear the worst, and yes, I have a good attitude, but we all know that doesn't necessarily help.)

Today, I weep.

In my Genentech "story" I say that the moment I became a survivor was the moment when, after collapsing to the floor of the grocery store upon hearing the words "you have cancer," I stood up. I said that it is the act of standing up that makes one a survivor. I say, "First, you weep. Then, you stand up."

Today, I'm weeping. Maybe tomorrow I will stand up.

Kristin, I can only imagine what you are feeling right now. I imagine that weeping is part of it. I am certain that you will also stand. Holding your daughters' hands, staring into your husband's eyes, you will find the strength you need. Your strength is deep, and it is there for you. There are many hands reaching out to hold you up when you do not feel strong, but I am certain that there is a well of strength in you that has not yet been tapped. I am so, so sorry that you must seek the depths of that strength.

I am prepared to fight at Kristin's side. She is not a close friend, as we've only met a handful of times, but I am deeply touched by her strength, conviction, and desire to live...in addition to her humor and warmth. She is a Warrior Woman, and I will be a warrior at her side. I will fight for the cure for both of us. I will be there for Kristin and her beautiful family.

My pain is real today, but it's nothing compared to Kristin's. Please think, pray, send karma, or whatever you do in her direction.

I hate cancer. I hate ****'n cancer.

Kristina

PS After today's news, I do not have the desire just now to write about my wonderful camping trip this weekend. I still have much to celebrate, but today all of my thoughts are with Kristin.