The last straw

In less than one week this will all be over. Even as I write it, I can hardly believe it. My surgery is scheduled for December 3, 2008. I have opted, through MUCH deliberation to have a lateral mastectomy (just one side) with immediate reconstruction. This means that the surgeon will remove the nipple and all of the breast tissue attached to it from my right breast, I will also have to have all of the lymph nodes from my right arm extracted. The plastic surgeon will perform my reconstructive surgery at the same time. The implant will be placed under the muscle of my chest wall and will gradually be filled with saline over the next few months. How do I feel? Where do I begin?

Relief. I am relieved that I was strong enough. I am relieved that we did it, that my little family survived this, and thrived!

Gratitude. I’m thankful for the lessons, the life lessons. Grateful for my family and the most solid, and unbreakable circle of friends I could ever hope for in this life. I love you all so much, I could never begin to repay you for your worry, your kindness and your love. I’m grateful for a new outlook on life, one that pushes me to stay present, love constantly and teach. I’m thankful for the opportunity to live and love my son. I’m thankful for my husband, my partner in life and love. Thankful for his realism and his constancy and his ability to make me laugh even through tears.

Fear. I try not to spend a lot of my time here. Fear is a space that I can get lost in very quickly and where my imagination likes to take control. It’s dangerous and foreboding full of questions like “What if it comes back” and self-corrections like, “you mean WHEN it comes back”. You see what I mean? Not a fun place. But it does exist.
Right now my fear is waking up to a new body that I don’t want to recognize as my own. My fear is the look on Dave’s face the first time he sees me naked. My fear is that it’s not over.

Love. I love that cancer and the opportunities that come with it have made me look deep into my core. I know exactly what I’m made of; I know what I stand for, who loves me, who I love. And I love life.


Consider this –

we are not humans on a spiritual journey, we are spirits on a human journey

I have shaved my head, weakened my immunity and removed pieces, but my spirit is whole and flourishing. Try and catch me.

Wisdom

Too Young
Too Strong
Too Brave

You never stood a chance

I laugh more often,
love more deeply,
and live everyday with purpose

You may have taken my hair, but you'll never get my heart
I'm going to thank you and then I'm going to let you go.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
~Max Ehrmann~

With love

I could never have begun to imagine how you would change me, nor predicted the strength, the unwavering commitment and the bravery you would demand from me. It wasn’t until we met that I even considered the vulnerability of life or the fleeting nature of time. And it wasn’t until I saw my reflection in the deep blue of your eyes that I realized how deeply I could love. My beautiful boy, how has a year gone by already? I love you with my whole heart, forever. Love mum

Bittersweet Symphony

There was nothing but blue sky appearing in the skylight above me today, as I reclined back into the blue chair in the chemo room. The cherry tree outside, now adorned with it's summer plumage, had mirrored my own seasons in this chair. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel today, sitting in that chair for the last time, closing this chapter. As thrilled as I am to be finished, chemotherapy has pushed me to my physical and emotional limits, there is a part of me that is sad and frightened to be moving on to the next step.
It is amazing how we as humans, become so easily attached to one another and are able to adapt and normalize an amazing spectrum of circumstances. Six months ago, I walked into that hospital terrified and today I'm crying because I have to leave. The care I recieved was amazing, my nurses and doctor were compassionate, warm and genuinely caring people. I feel amazingly blessed to have crossed paths with them, regardless of the circumstances bringing us together. Now I must look forward to my next challenge. Radiation will begin on August 18th and continue for 6 weeks. I'm ready.
But first, VACATION. Our bags are packed and we're ready to go. We're leaving tonight, hitting the open road and we are suspeding our reality for five weeks leaving our stress, our tears and worries behind us. I'll keep you all updated as we go.
Thank you so much to everyone who sends me constant love. I would not have made it this far without you.
Until then, this is my wisdom, my joy and my journey.

Loving life

A few weeks ago, as I crept into Coady's room to administer the midnight feeding, I caught a glimpse of his golden head through the bars of his crib. His little mouth was slightly parted and forming a tiny pucker and his bum was sticking up in the air making him look as if he fell asleep while attempting to crawl. He was absolutely the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and it sent me into a tailspin. Panic spread through my body like a wildfire.

Damn it. Losing control and perspective at three o’clock in the morning is a bad scene.

I crawled back into bed beside Dave, tears streaming down my face. As I buried my head in my pillow I felt his familiar warmth mimic the line of my body, tucking his knees behind mine he whispered, “You’re okay, you’re just scared. The choice is yours, you can be scared or you can be inspired”.

Wow, where did this guy come from? Who has this kind of conversation at three in the morning? Why can’t he stay awake long enough for me to dispute the simplicity of his logic? Have I mentioned how much I love my husband?

To be scared or inspired, that is the question.

From the very beginning, for me, coping with cancer has been a very dichotomous situation. It has been a nightmare but at the same time such a blessing. I have felt incredibly sick, and yet healthier than ever before. I have been terrified while experiencing the most overwhelming sense of bravery imaginable. I have been scared but deeply motivated to live my life, love my family and be incredibly grateful for all of the indulgences I have been granted.

I have been INSPIRED.

I had my second last chemo treatment this morning and I am on cloud nine, ONE MORE to go!! My last treatment is scheduled for July 11th and then…drumroll, we are hitting the road on the 12th for five weeks and driving to Prince Edward Island to see my family. Crazy? Yes. For the record I am usually the one to balk at ideas like this-generally because they are Dave’s and truth be told that when he first mentioned the idea of driving I had a million reasons why we should fly instead, but then it occurred to me that I cannot think of a better way to celebrate the closing of this small chapter in my life than spending five weeks with the two most important people in my world.

We went to Victoria last week for a check up with the oncologist, who says that my tumor has shrunk to approximately a third of its original size and that everything is moving in the right direction. My radiation is slated to begin the week of August 18th and I have an appointment with the surgeon next week to discuss my options.

I am happy. I feel healthy.

My baby is a bundle of laughter, who just started giving real hugs, crawling up stairs, pulling books off my bookshelf and SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!

My husband is amazing. I am so genuinely thrilled to wake up beside him every morning knowing that he loves me and all of my drama unconditionally.

My hair is growing back, oddly enough attracting the attention of a lot of good old boys in their early to late 50’s. I think they are impressed to see that someone is appreciating their “look”.

On our daily walks I make a conscious effort to stop and smell the wild roses and to instill in Coady the importance of being grateful for the moments.

That’s where it is folks,

Celebrate we will,
For life is short but sweet for certain
We climb on two by two
To be sure these days continue
Things we cannot change

-Dave Matthews

What...she's leaving us alone??!!

This is what happens when you are left unsupervised at the cancer society armed with your sister-in-law and her camera.

The Undertoad

For months now he’s been sitting there; perched on my shoulder, in a manner that would suggest he deserves some kind of reverence. Settled just at the edge of my peripheral vision, I can only make out the dark contour of his menacing little form. We don’t talk to each other, that was a mutual decision from the beginning, it has always been enough just to acknowledge each others presence. Lately though, he has been incessantly intrusive, making his presence known at the most inopportune times and all too often sending me into emotional tailspins of panic and sadness. He is malevolent and sinister; a dark angel if you will. He is my UNDERTOAD* and he constantly reminds me to stay present as he patiently waits to show me the exit if I falter.

I first noticed his inflated audacity during my last assessment, about a week and a half ago. As a personal rule, I try not to socialize too much with the other patients in the chemotherapy room. It’s not that I’m unfriendly; I just don’t want to hear about anyone else’s drama right now, I have enough of my own to deal with. Also, it has been my experience that parallels can be drawn between chemotherapy and giving birth, in that everyone wants to tell you their nightmare stories. Anyway, during my visit there was an elderly woman sitting in the chair beside me. I gave her one of my “hi there, sorry to see you’re in this predicament too, I don’t want to talk about it” smiles, and then proceeded to bury my nose in the novel I brought with me.

“You’re so young.”

Hmm, clearly she didn’t read the entire message of my smile. “Yeah” I replied, sympathetic to my own case.

“What kind of cancer do you have?”

“Breast cancer”, my answer accompanied by a “that’s enough conversation, thanks” smile.

“That’s what I had the first time”

OH GOD, make her stop. I could feel panic begin to rise in me, alarm bells and whistles going off in my head.

“That was three years ago, now it’s in my liver and bones”

Is she for real!? SHUT UP. I am not having this conversation. Make her stop, please.

I couldn’t get to my car fast enough before the tears came, that’s when I caught a glimpse of white over my shoulder, the twisted grin of the Undertoad.

Fortunately, I have a secret weapon. Coady is LIFE at its best. He has turned into this rolly-polly whirlwind of happiness. He squeals with delight and spends his day relishing the new sounds he can make with his mouth. He’s crawling around at a rapid pace, eating whatever he can get his hands on and laughing his head off. He is in LOVE with his Dad and the feeling is mutual. I melt watching the two of them speak to each other in their own love language.

Oddly enough, during these times when I’m fixated on the wonderful perfection of my tiny family, my shoulders fall away from my neck and I’m able to breathe deeply; as if a weight has been lifted. Perhaps the weight of someone who got tired of waiting.

*The undertoad is a brilliant concept created by John Irving(one of my favorite authors) in his book The World According to Garp. In the book, the youngest child, Walt, is constantly being warned to "watch out for the undertow" while playing in the surf, but he mishears the word as Under Toad:
Garp...realized that all these years Walt had
been dreading a giant toad, lurking offshore,
waiting to suck him under and drag him out to
sea. The terrible Under Toad.
The undertoad, then becomes the family symbol for any impending stress or disaster. Great image!