When I met with my oncologist in December 2013, I asked whether I'd see December 2014. She promised me December 2014 but wouldn't promise me anything after that. I was thirty-nine with a three year old and a baby two days shy of five months and advanced stage breast cancer. The thought of all I might miss shattered me.
The days that followed were so difficult it still catches my breath. I am actually not sure how we pushed through. God was it hard and God am I tired. But it seems like we are on the other side of something. Not the totally horrifying statistics, but maybe the momentum. Last week both of my tests were clear. This respite will only last three months, but three months takes me to November. December 2015 is in my sights.
We walk Miles to his first day of kindergarten tomorrow morning. Literally nothing could make me prouder.
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Saturday, August 15, 2015
Atta and ah damn
I lost a cancer friend this week.
Diana lived in Mount Pleasant and walked with Jennifer (Seketta's cousin). Over the years, their walks and our front porches, we hi, helloed. When Diana learned of my diagnosis, she started leaving cards, flowers, notes, words of encouragement on our front porch.
In December, she was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. I learned of it when I bumped into her at an appointment with Hans in February. She looked fabulous in her asymmetrical wig, but I was crushed to see her there. Diana recognized me first (us in two wigs, looking unlike we had weeks before) and I heard her difficult story and met her husband, Doug.
A few weeks ago, I saw Diana and Doug walking up Park. I ran out to catch them and say hello. Diana was serene about her future. Maybe more treatment, maybe six months.
I heard the news of her death Wednesday on my way to the results of my brain MRI. It would be impossible to overstate how much that has rattled me. Is that how it happens? It's going fine and then it isn't? You are walking the neighborhood and fighting cancer and then you are not?
My brain MRI was clear but the atta girl seemed a little less significant. Or more significant. I don't know which. I just wanted to get out of the appointment and away from it all.
I took a card over to Doug, met his brother and talked for a bit. Cried. Shook my head in disbelief. Promised to check in after everyone else stopped coming by.
I've been in a bit of a fog since.
I did make one bold move this week. #annielenox. Jim hates it and he is not all wrong. It isn't good looking. But it's been ages since I've been cute. And it's not brown, so I'm happy. And thank you, Hans, for that.
May God bless Diana and keep her close and comfort her family in their sorrow.
Diana lived in Mount Pleasant and walked with Jennifer (Seketta's cousin). Over the years, their walks and our front porches, we hi, helloed. When Diana learned of my diagnosis, she started leaving cards, flowers, notes, words of encouragement on our front porch.
In December, she was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. I learned of it when I bumped into her at an appointment with Hans in February. She looked fabulous in her asymmetrical wig, but I was crushed to see her there. Diana recognized me first (us in two wigs, looking unlike we had weeks before) and I heard her difficult story and met her husband, Doug.
A few weeks ago, I saw Diana and Doug walking up Park. I ran out to catch them and say hello. Diana was serene about her future. Maybe more treatment, maybe six months.
I heard the news of her death Wednesday on my way to the results of my brain MRI. It would be impossible to overstate how much that has rattled me. Is that how it happens? It's going fine and then it isn't? You are walking the neighborhood and fighting cancer and then you are not?
My brain MRI was clear but the atta girl seemed a little less significant. Or more significant. I don't know which. I just wanted to get out of the appointment and away from it all.
I took a card over to Doug, met his brother and talked for a bit. Cried. Shook my head in disbelief. Promised to check in after everyone else stopped coming by.
I've been in a bit of a fog since.
I did make one bold move this week. #annielenox. Jim hates it and he is not all wrong. It isn't good looking. But it's been ages since I've been cute. And it's not brown, so I'm happy. And thank you, Hans, for that.
May God bless Diana and keep her close and comfort her family in their sorrow.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Hoping for an "atta girl"
It's odd. Im forty one (when did that happen?) and I found myself wondering today when I would be the person I always thought I'd be. You know, put together, wearing cosmetics not all available at Target, organized, groceries in the house, thank yous written, kids with haircuts, thinking of something creative to cook for dinner, and spare birthday gifts stashed in some organized closet. Do I ever get to be that person? Would I even like me as that person? I envy it in others for sure. See, it is impossible to teeter on the precipice too long without drawing back into your natural angst, tendencies and drama. I'm not cherishing the sunshine and ignoring the traffic anymore. The perspective euphoria has lifted.
And I do actually realize that you can't jinx yourself into health issues, but I swear two days before my last appointment I was noticing how great I felt. Fucking, eh. At my Thursday am appointment, my surgeon confirmed I needed surgery and offered to try to book me for later that day or the next. Umm, I have a job, two kids at home and a husband traveling for business. I'm going to need a minute.
So, surgery was last week. I was told not to call it a surgical tweak. Some of my very radiated skin wasn't cooperating. So we cut it out. My surgeon was on his way home after forty-five minutes. My convalescence has been slightly slower. Today is a week and I still have a drain, some pain and trouble lifting not so little Ian. Fighting form tbd.
Tests scattered through the remainder of the month. A bone, a CT, an MRI. Results thereafter. Best case, atta girl, come back in three months. Worst case, worse.
Lend me your strength and keep me in mind. Doubly so, as my gentle, curious and kind baby Miles heads to kindergarten in a few weeks. I'm a proud, teary mess already.
I'll keep you posted.
And I do actually realize that you can't jinx yourself into health issues, but I swear two days before my last appointment I was noticing how great I felt. Fucking, eh. At my Thursday am appointment, my surgeon confirmed I needed surgery and offered to try to book me for later that day or the next. Umm, I have a job, two kids at home and a husband traveling for business. I'm going to need a minute.
So, surgery was last week. I was told not to call it a surgical tweak. Some of my very radiated skin wasn't cooperating. So we cut it out. My surgeon was on his way home after forty-five minutes. My convalescence has been slightly slower. Today is a week and I still have a drain, some pain and trouble lifting not so little Ian. Fighting form tbd.
Tests scattered through the remainder of the month. A bone, a CT, an MRI. Results thereafter. Best case, atta girl, come back in three months. Worst case, worse.
Lend me your strength and keep me in mind. Doubly so, as my gentle, curious and kind baby Miles heads to kindergarten in a few weeks. I'm a proud, teary mess already.
I'll keep you posted.
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