And life rolls on

Despite my high emotions over Kristin's recurrence, life goes on. Some days, it seems like the whole world should stop turning ("Stop the clocks") but, like it or not, it keeps spinning.

Today has been impossibily full - playdates and favors for friends and cooking and cleaning etc. We managed to spend time with Jenny, Zoe, Liam, Susie, Nina, Adam, Kathleen, Elena, and Beth, and then at the end of the day Caley came for dinner.

(I adore Caley. I am forever in her debt that she came to our aid when I was first diagnosed, and there is a bond there that is simply unshakable. I see a younger version of myself in her, but perhaps that is vanity on my part, because Caley is far more together than I was. Whatever the connection, I adore her and admire her.)

Now I'm wound up but in need of sleep. Tomorrow is certain to be another busy day, and now it looks like Ryan's coming down with "my" cold. Hopefully whatever he's feeling tonight will be gone by the morning.

Love,
Kristina

Well this will make for an interesting day!

6:05am, it's light outside, and I've been awake since 3:30am. I fell asleep after 11. These days, I'm tired on 10 hours of sleep, so we'll see how the rest of the day goes. Wish me patience with Tessa when she's raring to go and I'm dragging....

At least I cleaned out my email....!

Tossing and turning

I can't sleep. Strange, awful dreams float through my brain while I'm attempting sleep, but mostly I'm tossing and turning and my brain keeps forming the question "Why?" and missing the answer.

I have made peace with many things in the past two years. I will make peace with this, too, but I don't know how.

The 3-Day is coming up, and I'm not at all ready. I haven't been training like I ought to be, and it's so hard to find the time! I will do the event, though, and I will be okay, one way or another...

I have been asked by WARM 106.9 to do another radio interview....stay tuned for details. Kate Daniels, the interviewer, really liked my interview just prior to the Race for the Cure, and thought it would be great to promote the 3-Day with another interview. Fabulous!

I have been debating whether I wanted to continue with my plan to have surgery in October to do the final steps - nipples. My weird Barbie-boobs are so fake that I wondered if it was worth it to put my body through another surgery to make them look more real, knowing that they'd never be real. Well, yesterday the question was answered for me. Tessa, in a completely out-of the-blue statement, said, "Mommy, do you remember when you had nipples? Why don't you have them any more? I wish you would have them again." Suddenly, it was as simple as that. Tessa reminded me of their symbolism, and her request filled me with peace over the decision to get them. I am scheduled for surgery on October 5th. It's day surgery, with a couple weeks of recovery...I should be good to go for my Genentech engagement in North Carolina on October 22.

Camping this weekend was fantastic. It was all I'd hoped for and more....all four of us (including Shep) had a wonderful time. On Sunday, we went for a family hike of an hour or an hour and a half, and I was filled with joy to see Tessa's excitement over huckleberries and salmonberries, wildflowers, a millipede, and the rest. She can now tell the difference between bracken and swordfern, and we've promised to bring out the books on flower names for next time.

The Hissongs and the Hisatomis were with us for this trip, and it was incredible to share in their friendship and to relax with them. On Saturday night, Heather, Natasha and I sat around the campfire after the guys and kids were all in bed, and it was relaxing to laugh and talk with them. These are the important moments in life! Ryan and I have a few more camping trips on the docket between now and the end of September....we've got momentum and we don't want to lose it. I would like Tessa to remember her childhood as a camping childhood, and once or twice a year isn't enough. I think we're going to go to Newhalem (up highway 20, part of the North Cascades National Park) for Labor Day weekend.

I am somehow gearing up for fall. I've been making lists of things to do, as I always do in fall, because I love nesting in the fall. I was discussing this with Heather, and we agreed that it was the teacher in each of us that made fall feel like the "real" new year. I'm looking forward to taking care of the house, getting ready for more time indoors. I'm not ready to send out the summer yet, but I feel that I'm enjoying the summer immensely and yet still able to look ahead to the cooler fall days.

I don't really have anything to say, but here I am. Sleepless, restless, weary.

I'll try to go back to bed. Maybe sleep will find me.

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.

Camping

I love camping. Let me repeat that - I LOVE CAMPING!

I love the smell of the woods - the richness of Pacific Northwest soil, created with fir needles, swordfern, moss, salal, and rotting nurse logs is pure ambrosia to me. I love waking up in the wee hours of the morning to hear birds cackling with glee - even the noisy, raucous bluejays make me smile. I love hearing nothing but the occassional pine needle falling on the tent in the middle of the night when all is still, when even a solitary pine needle falling is noticeable because of the stillness. I love getting up in the middle of the night to go to the loo, fumbling for a flashlight and a pair of flip-flops, and discovering that a million stars have come out to play while I was sleeping.

I love watching Tessa roast marshmallows, convinced that heaven is a place where you can roast sticky, messy, sugary treats on sticks over a fire without getting so much as a sideways glance from your parents (that does remind me to pack some wipes, though!). I love padding around in the morning bundled up in long underwear, making coffee (no need to go without just becasue we're in the woods!) on the propane camp stove.

I love sitting around in the middle of the day, with nothing to do but look at a good book, in the shade from the sun. I equally love throwing lunch into a backpack and exploring on foot, away from cars and all things mechanical or computerized. I love glances of wild animals - the cries of "oh look there's a fawn!" and "okay Mr. Raccoon you can come into our camp but stay AWAY from my chocolate" and "can you believe we saw a river otter - I love them!" mixed in with chattering about children's development, house projects, and the other mundane things that make up our lives.

I love that we're going to share this with friends, and that there is certain to be much laughter.

I love being warm and cozy in my sleeping bag at the end of the day, filled with the day's adventures, and fighting sleep because it just feels too good to miss a minute. I also love staying in bed as long as possible in the morning because it's so cozy and the day can wait!

We'll sit around a campfire with our children, watching them learn to love camping. And then we'll tuck them in bed, and we'll have a glass of wine, and we'll remember how relaxing camping can be for us.

Good, good times.

Of course, I still feel lousy but I don't care. I am not going to let this cold take over! Today I managed to get the grocery shopping done and to make the spaghetti sauce and to organize most of the camping stuff, and though I still have more to do I'm convinced, at last, that it will actually GET done. We're optimistic even enough to think that our family can go to C&P for a little hang-out time before Ryan heads to work (he'll join us after work) and Tessa and I meet the other moms & kids in the ferry lineup (we're headed to the peninsula).

Wish us luck!

I have a cold

Bah humbug.

Today we were going to go to the wading pool at Gold Creek with Jessie, and have lunch with Charlotte & Caley, and I am just not feeling up to it. Jessie is still over, but I just don't have the energy to do much because my head is pounding and foggy and I just feel tired and achy and I have a bit of a cough and sore throat.

Poor, poor me. ;-)

Of course, a cold is just a cold. They come, they go. It's a hassle more than anything else, and I'm not needing of any pity - I know what "real" health issues are and this isn't one of them! None-the-less, I feel lousy and I hope that I get better soon. (And I have enough self-pity for this cold that I don't need anyone else's sympathies!)

So, a down day. I'm filling the wading pool for the girls, so they can play in the back yard, and I'm slowly folding laundry and the like. Not a bad day in the sunshine, although not what I had planned. I'd say my energy is 30% of my normal, but I'm functional!

Tomorrow we're going camping. I am not going to let this stupid cold get in my way, although the prospect of grocery shopping, making meals in advance, and packing up the entire car does have me exhausted before I begin. One foot in front of the other....!

Preschool

I'm starting to think about fall, and it's barely August...!

Tessa's preschool schedule is:
Tuesday, 12:15-3pm
Thursday, 12:15-3pm
Friday, 8:45am-11:30am

I have to figure out how to use my "off" time effectively, and how the new routine will look. I'm hoping that we can walk Shep to preschool with Tessa each day, which will be good for the environment (not driving the car), good quality time with Tessa and I, good exercise, and (of course) very happy for Shep. The preschool is perhaps a mile away, and that's the perfect distance as long as it's not sleeting. (Rain is fun for puddles, snow is fun, but sleet....brrr and yuck!) And once Tessa's in school, I can work out, run errands, write, clean the house, get a job, do volunteer work....oh wait, that's 15 hours a day I've just filled up! Well, I'll come up with something. :-)

Trying to enjoy summer days, but still thinking ahead....

PS Mom, I posted this here because you'd asked about Tessa's schedule next year. Here it is!

Wednesday

I'm struggling with a headache/cold/minor cough....and I wish they'd all go away. Some minutes I feel absolutely normal (this morning Tessa and I went to the Junction; she rode her bike and I walked/jogged beside her), and other minutes I feel like my head will explode. What's with that?! I'm low energy, and my to-do list seems even longer than usual, which is stressful. Normal, though!

We're getting ready for a little camping trip this weekend, and I'm excited to spend the night in a tent. Camping with a child and a dog is a little different than what we used to do, but it's wonderful and I'm looking forward to it. Some friends are joining us, and it promises to be a good time. Fingers crossed for good weather.

Shep went to the vet yesterday for a check-up, routine shots, and toenail trim. He is doing well, and his foot is healing nicely. It's still a "Frankenfoot" and always will be (scars galore, and scar tissue instead of a pad) but he is a happy pup who loves nothing more than to run around with his people and any passing dog, and we are grateful that despite the injury, and the horrific expenses it incurred, he is well. While he was healing it seemed to take forever (in reality, it was a couple of months before his skin grew back), but it's in the past now. These things happen, and they're horribly stressful of course, but it could have been worse. He still drives me nuts, but I do love him!

(Our thoughts go out to Zuma, Krystal's dog, who has her own injury right now, and to our extended family members who find themselves involved in this fiasco. I hope that forgiveness can be offered on all sides, and that all family members can see that each person involved has a good heart and does not/did not have negative intent. Emotions run high when beloved dogs are involved, and when expense is involved, and this is understandable. Family is forever, though, and I hope that everyone can work it out.)

Tessa is loving her bicycle, and sings the songs from "Sally Jean, The Bicycle Queen" (a favorite book) when she's perched atop her bike seat. She creates quite the picture when she's got her long (she won't let us cut it!) blond hair streaming behind her from under her helmet, wearing a skirt (ever the girly-girl, even when she's sporty), her bike-basket filled with stuffed animals, dandelions picked along the way, pedaling fast. The bike - a wonderful hand-me-down from Ellie & Molly - is a girl's dream, all pink and purple and white with sparkles and lovely streamers on the handlebars. Tessa's getting better on it, and though she still needs her training wheels she's getting much more confident and I often have to jog to keep up with her. She's learned how to slow herself and to stop (important skills!), and she goes over small bumps with ease now. She still shrieks when she's scared on the bike, but we've come a long way, and she's so proud of herself. It makes me feel a mother's joy to watch her attain this new skill, and to see her absolute delight.

More to say, but my head is entirely foggy this afternoon and I have a lot to do, anyway. Off to the races!

Love,
Kristina

Doubt - change of plan?

At first, when we started talking about renting out our basement, I was 100% for it. It seemed so easy, so simple, so perfect!

And now, perhaps because reality is setting in, I'm filled with doubt.

Do I really want to share our house? And if we do, is it worth it? How much money will we make each month after expenses (we need to buy a stove, doors, carpeting, paint, etc) and after utilities, taxes, fees and permits? Our basement is not deluxe, and I'm the first to admit that, so I am wondering if it's really worth $700. Am I really willing to give up so much for such a small amount of money?

Do we want to give up our family room, our guest room, and our second bathroom? In addition to giving up that space, we would be giving up our ability to find a quiet corner for some down time - our bedroom has french doors leading to the living room, and sound and light transmit through them. Noise transmits from upstairs to down and vice versa; do we want that? Do we want to share a hot water tank? Our yard?

But if we don't rent out our basement, exactly how should we go about earning some extra cash?

We could cut back on expenses. I just don't know how well we can do this. We're not exactly spending money willy-nilly right now...

Ideally, Genentech would offer me one speaking engagement per month, and this would allow us to budget better. I find the work for Genentech incredibly satisfying, and I feel that I have a talent for what they need me for, and I like the "now and then" nature of the work because it doesn't require me to set up daycare for Tessa. But if that's not going to happen (I am going to NC for an engagement in October, but that's only 4 engagements for 2007, not 12) then what? I could tutor students in high school English, I could seek part time employment, I could....what? I'm mulling it over at this time.

Tessa goes to kindergarten in a year, and that factors into this, too. I want to be available for her this year.

So, there is a lot on my mind. A lot to work through. I'm filled with doubt on every prospect - I see pros and cons for all, and so I (we) have to work it through. Stay tuned!

Three left

The title of this post makes me think back to chemo and radiation, when I was counting down. For chemo, the starting number was 16, for radiation it was 33, and, if my calculations are correct, I am counting down from 43 for Herceptin. If I've counted accurately, then I've completed 40 Herceptin appointments.

44 times going to the treatment center (40 Herceptin plus the 4 chemos that came before I started Herceptin) for a drug that is infused through an IV. Forty-four times being poked with a needle and receiving an IV, either through the port or through my arm. Forty-four times hearing the stories of other patients. Forty-four times having to squash the fear that rises in my throat; forty-four times having to remind myself that I'm okay that it's not me that I'm doingeverythingIcan and reminding myself, if possible, not to hyperventilate. I've been successful so far with keeping my emotions relatively controlled; I do not fight the nurses, I do not cry, I do not refuse to go.

For some reason, as I approach the end of my Herceptin treatment, it's getting harder for me each time I go to the treatment center. No side effects from Herceptin that I am aware of, and my veins complied this time, and life is good....but still, Cancerland is Cancerland.

Off to better things today...!

Four more Herceptin

Tomorrow I get my fourth-to-last Herceptin. My last one will be September 27, and I am counting down the days.

I am so, so, so tired of being in Cancerland. I have to psych myself up to go to the appointment. Last time I got 5 needles because my veins weren't compliant, but that's the least of it. I always overhear some horrible conversation about cancer running rampant in someone's body, or hear someone crying, or hear a nurse making hospice (end of life) arrangements on the phone for a patient, or someone throws up, or something. It's no way to spend the morning, I tell you that. Bah humbug.

Herceptin is a wonderful drug. I'm glad to get it. I believe in it, and it's worth it. But I hate Cancerland.

MIL Apartment Available in West Seattle!

Ryan and I have reached the decision that our lives would be better with some extra cash. (That shouldn't be a surprise to anyone - everyone can use extra cash!) We are very fortunate in that our house has a built-in mother-in-law apartment, and so we're going to rent it out for some extra income. We feel good about this decision, as it prevents me from returning to work, and it's an asset we already have, so we might as well make use of it. Our house is big enough for us even without the basement - we have tons of storage in our attic, Tessa's room is a large play-space, and we still have the living room and dining room for entertaining. We are so fortunate to have this option!

Anyway, here's the email I just sent out to a few friends to announce that we're starting to look for a tenant; I'm putting it here because you just never know who might be readint this and looking for a place to live. Please send me your referrals for people who might want a quiet place to live, close to the shops, near the bus line, in a great part of West Seattle.

------
Hello, friends!

Do you know anyone who might be looking for a quiet place in West Seattle?
Ryan and I have decided that we are going to prepare our basement (which already has a kitchen, bathroom with shower, bedroom, and living room) for rent to bring in some extra rental income. We're doing some small upgrades (buying a stove, new flooring in the kitchen, installing a new door for the downstairs entrance, paint, etc.), and hope to have it ready for a tenant in mid-August or thereabouts, hopefully to have someone move in by September 1. The apartment is 1000+ sq. feet, and all utilities (including basic cable and internet access; no phone included) will be included in the rental cost; we will share the laundry facilities. A cat would be welcome; no dogs, please (our one dog is enough!). Our ideal tenant would be a single woman, but we don't discriminate. ;-) Absolutely no smoking.

We haven't yet determined the fair rental value, but we're working on that and getting some comps to compare it to (looking at about $700/month). Right now I thought I'd start with word of mouth to see if any of you knew someone who might be interested.

If you know anyone who might be interested, please let us know or pass along this message! We won't be prepared to show the place until mid-August, but I hope to generate some interest before then. :-) Anyone interested can email me at rykri@comcast.net .

Thanks!
Kristina

Love this graphic

Someone on the YSC boards had this as part of their signature. I am feeling decidedly UN-Wonderwoman-ish today, but still love this picture.

At the aquarium today

Today, Tessa and I met up with cousin Caleb, Grammy and Grandpa at the aquarium. As you can see from these pictures, a good time was had by all!

After the aquarium, Tessa and I caught the water taxi home, stopping at "Coffee to a Tea" for cupcakes and Husky Deli for ice cream, and we came home and got Ryan's birthday dinner ready. (His actual birthday is Monday, but since that's a weeknight we celebrated a bit early with Paul & Libby.) It was lovely to spend a relaxed evening with Paul & Libby.

Tessa was completely worn out by the end, but happy from her busy day. Me too!

Tessa

Ryan said that his dad would look at this shot and have the perfect advice for Tessa - "Wait. Wait. Wait some more before you swing!" Good advice if she'll follow it, but actually hitting the ball wasn't important today. Today, Ryan got his first father-daughter pitching session, and I'm not sure who was happier about it, because both of them were glowing. Happy days!

Tessa getting tips on baseball from Daddy. (This time the fashion accessory is a Hawaiian flower barette.) Ryan, dressed in bike gear and fresh from his ride, came home hungry but had to delay his dinner because the sweet call of "Daddy, will you play baseball with me? I can run all of the bases - first, second, third, and sixth!" was too wonderful to resist. Tessa had her first go at baseball today at her YMCA "camp" and she loved it. Never mind that when I watched she was mostly drawing pictures in the dust behind the pitcher's mound...in her head, she's a baseball star.

Tessa at her first day of soccer, showing off her new YMCA camp shirt and her new shin guards. Oh, yes, and wearing kitty ears and posing. She made me laugh - but it was easy to spot her on the field! She is really enjoying soccer, and is getting better at kicking the ball around with a small (small!) degree of control.

This is of Tessa at the hospital on July 4. Notice that SHE has color in her cheeks, but Ryan is pale (as was I!). By the time we got to emergency, Tessa was feeling better to some degree, but both her parents were pretty freaked out. In this shot, Tessa is wearing her "4th of July" outfit - the one she was going to wear at the parade - and she's got her hand taped to the IV board. Ugh - I hope we don't have to do that any time soon.

It's late and I want to go to bed, but I wanted to share these pics. Have a good night!

Training

I am just home (well, okay, I've been home for a while now) from a great training walk with Heather (ironically, she's not on the team, but she was up for the walk and I was so glad for the company!) along Alki. We did about 7.5 miles and it felt great to get out and move. It's time for me to really train for the 3-Day, and though 7.5 miles isn't impressive in the face of 60 miles, it's a nice little walk none-the-less. The weather was gorgeous, Alki was sparkling with sun on the water and people milling all over the place, and it was great to catch up with Heather without the interruptions of little kids. (Love those children, but they're not the best at allowing adult conversations!)

And maybe this will help my muffin-top to go away. And go away NOW! Ryan's reunion is in 18 days and I'm going to lose five pounds. I'm DETERMINED! :-) Not just for the reunion, but it's a nice goal to have in front of me, and I'd like to feel good in a bathing suit for the rest of the summer.

In other working out news...
My body is not letting me train for a marathon. I'm having to revise my 2007 goal to be running a 1/2 marathon, no walking (by this I mean 1 minute walk breaks but not walking miles). I may be able to run/walk a marathon in 2007, but I won't be able to run the whole thing. My body is just not cooperating....too much fatigue and joint pain from the **** drugs. Grrr.

A summer day in West Seattle

This morning, Tessa had soccer class at the Delridge Playfield, and afterwards we played at the play structure with Anna & Beth. Then, Tessa and I popped in on Marilyn to meet the new baby (already three weeks old!) and to deliver a small gift (thank you to Mom S. for doing the embroidery!). Then, a quick trip the grocery store and lunch, then off to Alki to meet Molly & Ellie for some beach time. Tessa was a bit of a grump (grrr that's an understatement) and it was a bit windy at Alki despite the warmth, so we headed back to our house and the girls played in the wading pool in the back yard while Molly and I chatted.

Then, a few chores around the house, and I made dinner and packed it up as a picnic. Ryan got home, showered (he rode his bike to work today), and then we loaded up the jogging stroller, snapped a leash on Shep, and walked the mile or mile and a half to Lowman Beach Park for a picnic (and time for Tessa to play on the swings). Then, home again, visiting with neighbors out in their yards as we passed by, and time to tuck Tessa in to bed. In a moment, Ryan and I will go cool off a bit in the back yard by laying out in the hammock, enjoying the evening breeze, and then I think I'm off to bed!

This is my idea of a good day. Jam packed, but also full of fun.

I think that Tessa is still feeling slightly off after her illness; she's not sick at all but she's also not recovered, as she's a bit more tired than usual and a bit more grumpy than usual (oh dear). I think she enjoyed the stroller ride tonight - out enjoying the summer air, but not as active.

I'm counting my points on Weight Watchers and hoping to see improvements SOON. My muffin-top needs to go away immediately - ugh. Having gotten rid of it once I know I can do it again but the sooner the better! Ryan's high school reunion is at the end of the month and I intend to look smashing. ;-)

Yesterday we did quite a bit of yard work - trust me, the yard REALLY needed it! - and I'm so pleased with the results....it's amazing what a few hours of work can do. I enjoy sitting out back so much more when the weeds are pulled and the plants are perky from being watered and the walkway is swept, etc. It makes me really enjoy being at home, and count my blessings, rather than just thinking "oh I have so much to do". Of course, there is much work still to be done, but now I see the progress and I like that. :-)

Have a good night!

(Something is going on with Blogger where I can't title my posts. Whatever!)

Recovery

This week I'm in recovery from the preceeding week and a half. I'm coming down from the terror of Tessa's illness and my scan-scare, and trying to forge ahead.

Yesterday, I did 12 miles around Greenlake (4.5 running, walking the rest) and we went to a birthday party for Jackson & Carter (great to see the Landahl & Neufeld & Chin clans). Today, Ryan watched Paul do a time trial and then hooked up with Tessa and I at the zoo, where we were enjoying Daven's Safari-style birthday party. Now we're home, and I'm procrastinating for a little while before doing some heavy weeding (ugh the garden is a mess!).

Recovery. This weekend is going well, though Tessa's still a bit tired and still looks so painfully thin to me (her pants were falling off her rear-end today...she really did lose some weight, and she's so thin to begin with)...she's also a bit grumpy after her week of illness. But it's all okay, and this week promises to deliver more!

This is a different version of the same post, below. This one I wrote to the YSC boards. Writing as therapy, I suppose. Maybe by writing it I can write it out of my system.

-----------
I just have to rant.

I had Herceptin today. My onc ran into me and said, "I knew you'd be in and I wanted to discuss something with you." (uh-oh) She said, "It's really probably nothing but there was a 2.2cm spot on your chest on your last (6/14) MRI, and you need an X-ray to confirm that it's nothing."

CRAP.

She repeated all the things that it probably was (probably not mets), and she's so fabulous and wonderful and thorough, and reassuring, but the thing is, nothing can reassure me any more. The statistics are almost meaningless to me. I mean, I've heard "it's probably nothing" before, and I got breast cancer (and double mastectomies, chemo, etc.). "Probably" doesn't mean a damn thing to me any more when it comes to this beast.

So then I sat through Herceptin, x-ray paperwork in my hand, telling myself to stop having a fit and to calm down. Of course, that didn't work.

And it was nothing. The tech said, "Don't bug your doc until Monday at earliest" but, not being overly compliant with such things and being utterly unwilling to have another ruined weekend, I marched straight to my doc's office and asked if she could pull up the results (thank God for computers with instant information). She viewed the x-rays, and declared that I "have the loveliest lungs [she's] ever seen." Nothing to worry about.

But now I'm exhausted, and madder than hell.I have fought so hard to put this behind me. I wore a sassy cleavage-revealing dress to Herceptin today, proving to myself and the world that I Do Not Look Like a Cancer Patient. I wanted to show everyone in the treatment center that they, too, could be healthy and look great again. I wanted to prove to myself that I did not fit in at the chemo ward. I wanted to look like -and feel like- the antithesis of a cancer patient.

But the thing that makes me mad, furious, boiling, is that there is not a damn thing that I can do on the inside to prevent the fear from boiling over again. The cancer is in charge, not me, and a pretty, hip dress and lip gloss can fool the world, but if cancer wants to come back, it will. Simple as that. I can dress to impress (to impress myself, mostly) and I can run and mother my daughter and volunteer and fundraise and speak for the cause and it doesn't make a damn bit of difference. I did a ton of treatment, and that may not make a difference either.Two years out, and cancer still knows how to grab me by the neck and shove me against the wall, just for fun, just to mess with me. The fact that cancer walked away without leaving a mark this time doesn't placate me....I'm just so damn tired of being messed with. And I'm tired to realize that I just have to accept this behaviour, to live with the fear when it arises, and to acknowledge that it's out of my hands.

Cancer is a bully and I can't report him to the principal to get him expelled. Instead, I slink along the hallways, furtively glancing left and right to see if he's there, and with every scan or test I feel him throw me into the lockers and frisk me for my lunch money. The fact that he chuckles nastily and then walks away without leaving a bruise is of little consolation; I know that next time I might get beaten senseless.(And I have no idea where that analogy came from. I was never bullied....!)

So I'm venting, ranting, raging at the unfairness of it all. Two years out and I'm doing everything right and I'm cancer free and god-damn-it I want to be past all of this! I want to be invincible, and you'd think it wouldn't surprise me any more to remember how mortal I am, but each reminder hurts just as much as the one before.Damnit.

(And for the girls out there who are newer at this than I, I will add just one little tiny PollyAnna note at the bottom. Most days are much, much, much better than this. Sometimes I do forget about the bully....and that's perhaps why I'm so mad about him today. I thought he was gone for good, or at least for a few more months, and he surprised me. I don't like that kind of surprise. But most days are pretty darn good, not like what I'm describing here. Today was just lousy.)

Thanks for letting me rage at it all. I thought if anyone understood, it would be you ladies.

My nerves are frazzled.

To open, everything is fine, so I'm not trying to freak anyone out by this post.

But I'm completely frazzled.

After the long week plus of Tessa's illness, I'm just ready to be relaxed and stop worrying. I arranged childcare for Tessa this morning, and then headed to my Herceptin appointment.

First thing at my appointment, I ran into my oncologist, who said, "I need to talk to you. It's probably nothing, but the MRI showed a 2.2cm spot on your lung and we need to check it out; since you're here I'd like you to get an X-ray today after your Herceptin appointment."

Spot on my lung? This falls into the category of Very, Very Bad Things and scared me to death. Sure, she said it was probably nothing, but I've been told "it's probably nothing before" and then I got breast cancer and all that came with it. "It's probably nothing" is only very slightly reassuring, but not nearly enough to stop my stomach from somersaulting. Breast cancer often metastasizes to the lungs (as well as bone, liver, and brain) and so this is exactly the kind of news I'm frightened of getting.

So I went to my Herceptin appointment and tried to will myself to stay calm. Then, I went to the radiology department, stripped into one of those horrible blue backless gowns, and got my chest X-rayed, front and side. After the appointment, I asked the tech (who is forbidden from interpreting my results) how soon my doctor would have the results, and she said, "Well, I've already got them entered into the computer but I wouldn't bug your doc until Monday at the earliest." I smiled and thanked her, then ignored that advice completely (there was NO way I was going to sit on pins and needles wondering if the cancer had returned, worse than ever) and marched straight to Dr. Rinn's office.

Dr. Rinn, lovely woman that she is, understood completely, and looked up the X-rays on the spot. "I've never seen lungs so lovely," she told me, and all is clear. Nothing to be concerned about.

And yet, I'm so freakin' exhausted. This whole process wears me out.

Today I put on a cute dress and flip-flops to go to Herceptin. I was determined to look as non-cancer-ish as possible. The dress is slightly low-cut, to reveal cleavage. It has a saucy band of bright color, but is otherwise a hip black color. In it, I feel good - girly, feminine, and pretty. It's the kind of dress that cancer patients do not wear; breast cancer patients, I've noticed, tend to wear things up to their necks; they tend to wear sweats to treatment. (I did - it was comfortable and I didn't exactly feel like drawing attention to my fat, bald self. I didn't feel pretty; I didn't dress to draw attention to my non-existant breasts.)

I realize now that the dress was meant to ward off my own bad feelings about cancer, to prove to myself that I'd come so far. To walk into the waiting room at the treatment center and have eyes turn toward me, the same look on every face, "What is SHE doing here? She looks so healthy! She doesn't look like a cancer patient!"

But the dress is only a disguise, and I'm horrified to remember that no matter what I wear, no matter how long I put this behind me, no matter how long my hair gets, now matter how healthy I look, I am still a cancer patient. I still get MRIs and X-rays and scans and I'm still covered in scars and I still have no guarantees. The cancer isn't fooled by my outfits, or my lip gloss. It's not afraid of my kick-ass attitude, and it only smiles slyly when I put on my PollyAnna mood and tell everyone, "I believe that the cancer is gone, never to return. Just look at how hard I fought to keep it away! Look how much treatment I did, above and beyond the standard!" Cancer knows what cancer knows. It might not come back. But it might.

I hate this simple fact. I hate that the little lurking thought - which was not just lurking, but shouting at me today - that the cancer might come back never completely disappears. I can run, I can mother, I can write, I can volunteer, I can fundraise, I can walk, but I can't earn a guarantee.

I do believe that the cancer is gone. But today, my fear was real, and justified. I got another reprieve: all is well. But it will take a while for my heart to stop beating so fast. It will take a while to recover from the fact that I have, once again, been faced with my fears head on. I can't describe this feeling to anyone who hasn't been there him/herself. If you don't know this kind of fear, I don't want to let you in on it. It's bone chilling, gut wrenching, mind blowing. It comes and it goes, but when it comes, it takes my breath away.

Breathe in, breathe out. I'm recovering from the day, but it saps my energy more than I can describe.

Now off to care for my daughter, who is yelling at me to get a new string for her beading project. Despite my mental collapse (ha!), life goes on, and duty calls.

Love,
Kristina