For those who read this blog for info about paper beading... sorry, I beg you to suffer my indulgence. I'll get back into paper beading as soon as school is out and I'm back from my TRIP TO IRELAND! I feel the need to slow down and even stop to smell the roses.
Last weekend was a reflective time for me. I happened to be downtown and see the aftermath of the Susan G. Komen race for a cure event on Saturday. It made me stop and think for a moment; to feel the sunshine on my face and breathe the sweet air. And also to look at the love in my husband's eyes.
Thirteen years ago in May, I was doing radiation therapy for my own breast cancer fight. I had already undergone two surgeries - one to remove a lump in my breast and the second surgery to remove the lymph glands under my arm for analysis. I was a mass of scars and scabs and starting to get 2nd degree burns under my armpit from the radiation.
But I never doubted I would recover, really I never doubted it.
Then it was as if the universe decided I needed to be humbled and feel I too was vulnerable. So around a year or two later, I had a routine blood test that showed I had some problems with my blood count. The doctor said it could just be side effects from the radiation treatment and we'd just wait and take another test in a month to see how or if the blood tests changed.
That was one of the hardest months my husband and I went through, I mean as far as compared to the official breast cancer diagnosis. When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer everything went really fast - I found a lump, doctor saw me the next day, did a biopsy right then and there and then surgery within the week - no time really to sit and think about it. But now we had time to think. I got a bit more scared this time. We never told anyone, why have them worry until something was verified. We hardly talked about it ourselves, I could tell my husband was suffering but I didn't want to break down in front of him.
Finally another test and wonderful news - all was OK with my blood work.
Time went by and we got more and more able to go through a day without thinking about cancer.
Then the spring of 2006 my mother passed away. I finally had time to go to the doctor myself and ask him about a lump I could feel under the right side of my rib cage. He felt the lump and said it was about time I had a PET scan anyway. The PET scan can detect potential cancer spot with the use of radioactive isotopes in sugar. The girl doing the scan was strangely quiet after the scan which always scares me. A few days later the doctor says that I have a suspicious spot on my liver and I will need further tests.
The family had just barely watched my mother die from cancer that previous March. My Dad and siblings were still reeling from the shock. I was literally sick to my stomach and this time I cried on my husband's shoulder, I just broke down. He tried so hard to be brave and optimistic but the next couple of months were nearly our undoing. I can't even remember what other tests I had done, but the wait between results, the wait for the next appointment, the wait for the next results were torture.
I decided to go the 268 mile round-trip south to visit my Father for a few days over the 4th of July. Everyone met at Mom and Dad's for the 4th and I didn't want my Dad to feel lonely his first big event without my Mother even though I was going through my own drama. My Father developed a very bad cold on the 4th that quickly progressed to pneumonia and since I am a teacher, it was logical for me to stay and tend to him since I was out of school. Both my sisters who live near, had to work. But I had to leave in the middle of the crisis to go home and get the final results from my liver tests and my sisters gave me a semi-bad time for having to leave. I think I said I was getting a mammogram and the appointments were such a long wait. "I'd just go up to Salt Lake and be right back that same day."
I brushed death aside once again, all I have are some cysts on my liver, nothing malignant!
So here it is 2010 and I have survived well beyond what others diagnosed even 20 years before me where able to survive. The fear is always there, floating somewhere nearby, but because of people willing to donate money for research and because of researchers willing to work for a cure and come up with medicines like Tamoxifen and Femara, I am here today and am well and looking forward to another summer and the adventures it brings. I can't believe my luck but I don't take it for granted! Thank you to you all and your work to give me 13 more years!
Last weekend was a reflective time for me. I happened to be downtown and see the aftermath of the Susan G. Komen race for a cure event on Saturday. It made me stop and think for a moment; to feel the sunshine on my face and breathe the sweet air. And also to look at the love in my husband's eyes.
Thirteen years ago in May, I was doing radiation therapy for my own breast cancer fight. I had already undergone two surgeries - one to remove a lump in my breast and the second surgery to remove the lymph glands under my arm for analysis. I was a mass of scars and scabs and starting to get 2nd degree burns under my armpit from the radiation.
But I never doubted I would recover, really I never doubted it.
Then it was as if the universe decided I needed to be humbled and feel I too was vulnerable. So around a year or two later, I had a routine blood test that showed I had some problems with my blood count. The doctor said it could just be side effects from the radiation treatment and we'd just wait and take another test in a month to see how or if the blood tests changed.
That was one of the hardest months my husband and I went through, I mean as far as compared to the official breast cancer diagnosis. When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer everything went really fast - I found a lump, doctor saw me the next day, did a biopsy right then and there and then surgery within the week - no time really to sit and think about it. But now we had time to think. I got a bit more scared this time. We never told anyone, why have them worry until something was verified. We hardly talked about it ourselves, I could tell my husband was suffering but I didn't want to break down in front of him.
Finally another test and wonderful news - all was OK with my blood work.
Time went by and we got more and more able to go through a day without thinking about cancer.
Then the spring of 2006 my mother passed away. I finally had time to go to the doctor myself and ask him about a lump I could feel under the right side of my rib cage. He felt the lump and said it was about time I had a PET scan anyway. The PET scan can detect potential cancer spot with the use of radioactive isotopes in sugar. The girl doing the scan was strangely quiet after the scan which always scares me. A few days later the doctor says that I have a suspicious spot on my liver and I will need further tests.
The family had just barely watched my mother die from cancer that previous March. My Dad and siblings were still reeling from the shock. I was literally sick to my stomach and this time I cried on my husband's shoulder, I just broke down. He tried so hard to be brave and optimistic but the next couple of months were nearly our undoing. I can't even remember what other tests I had done, but the wait between results, the wait for the next appointment, the wait for the next results were torture.
I decided to go the 268 mile round-trip south to visit my Father for a few days over the 4th of July. Everyone met at Mom and Dad's for the 4th and I didn't want my Dad to feel lonely his first big event without my Mother even though I was going through my own drama. My Father developed a very bad cold on the 4th that quickly progressed to pneumonia and since I am a teacher, it was logical for me to stay and tend to him since I was out of school. Both my sisters who live near, had to work. But I had to leave in the middle of the crisis to go home and get the final results from my liver tests and my sisters gave me a semi-bad time for having to leave. I think I said I was getting a mammogram and the appointments were such a long wait. "I'd just go up to Salt Lake and be right back that same day."
I brushed death aside once again, all I have are some cysts on my liver, nothing malignant!
So here it is 2010 and I have survived well beyond what others diagnosed even 20 years before me where able to survive. The fear is always there, floating somewhere nearby, but because of people willing to donate money for research and because of researchers willing to work for a cure and come up with medicines like Tamoxifen and Femara, I am here today and am well and looking forward to another summer and the adventures it brings. I can't believe my luck but I don't take it for granted! Thank you to you all and your work to give me 13 more years!
I really, really appreciate it!
I think I'll go out and look at the rain one more time before I go to bed!
I think I'll go out and look at the rain one more time before I go to bed!
1 comment:
so happy you're still here! and going to be here forever because of the cost of medicine! :)
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