All right all right... no news is good news... good news indeed. I am updating my blog, doing as I am told so to speak. I hear about it a lot- you see... and it is .. well.. very flattering to know so many of you care. Thank you.
It is the eve of my last treatment. My very last. Sounds like we have done this before... oh yes we have. I thought Nov. 17th 2011 was my last chemo... and it was until the wonderful Cleveland Clinic re-ran my pathology last March and found I was HER2 positive. So, now I am writing after nearly 2 years from feeling that little bump in my breast. After a bilateral mastectomy. After 5 months of Chemo. And 37 radiation treatments. Then an additional year of Herceptin via IV. I am writing this blog post. With tears. Such happy tears. Because- tomorrow is my last, very last IV treatment for Breast Cancer. The fight is over. And I have won. But not just the battle. So, so much more.
I found the picture of me from my second blog post- You know the one- There I am in that crop top of a gown at the Plastic's Office. So many things run through my head as I look at that girl in the photo. Blondie with her thumbs up. Has she any idea what the next few years would have in store? No. She didn't. So much so I am dedicating this blog to her.
I know you are scared. But it will all be ok.
I know you think you have it all under control. You don't. You never did. It's ok. God will take it from here. You can trust him. He is better at the control thing than you. Really.
You can't hide your pain - so don't try. I know you will. And what a terrible actress you will realize you are. It's ok to have bad days. It's OK to let your kids know you are having bad days.
That man behind the camera, ya, you know the one you met in high school and fell madly in love with. Well, you haven't felt anything yet. It gets better. You have no idea what kind of love you two share as ride the roller coaster cancer ride. It is like nothing I could ever explain in words.
Your friends and family will embrace you continually. Meaning - it never stops. They love you with food, flowers, books, pictures, letters, cards, and phone calls. They lift you up in ways you had no idea human kindness could. It is powerful. It is overwhelming. And at times it is the only reason you get out of bed.
Your body is healthy. I know I can't convince you now because you are still angry at your body for letting this cancer grow. But - you will soon see that your body is healthy. The surgery is the single hardest physical (and emotional) thing you have ever gone through. But you get through it. And your body is healthy.
Losing your hair to Chemo is not as hard as double taking when you catch a glimpse of your bald head in the mirror in the morning. Looking sick- is harder for you than being sick.
OH, and get this- when your hair comes back-- it is dark... I mean we all know you're not a "real" blond, but even your own mother is surprised at these dark locks.
You will ride in Pelotoina- 50 miles you will bike. It is more than meaningful. And you know those little voices you hear in your head that tell you -" you can't do this... you can't bike all that way" well, they are gone. All I can hear is " you can , and you will!"
You will learn more about your drive and will than you can ever imagine now.
And most of all - You will LIVE IN THE MOMENT... each and every single day. Find yourself "freeze- framing" moments with your kids. Enjoying their laugh. Listening to them talk to each other. Simple joys, otherwise passed by.
Each Season will be your new favorite... until the next one comes along to take it's place.
And soon, very soon you will have a close friend call you about her lump, her pathology, her chemo, her wig and her sadness. Her deep sadness.
So, me... I see you sitting there with your two thumbs up.... but I know your sadness...
I am here to tell you. Your sadness turns into an appreciation for living.
And you win. And continue to win each day you take more from cancer than it took from you.