Friday, July 27, 2012

Embracing Baldness

Back on the mainland, as the Kama'aina call it, I never had the confidence to go out without my scarves or hats and bare my bald head. I guess, in large part, because cancer and the baldness that can result from treatment can invoke a rather uncomfortable feeling for many people. I'm guessing it's because they're just not sure what to say or how to react around someone who's sick with this disease.

I'm wondering, too, if I have kept the scarves on as a security blanket for me.

In Hawaii, however, it's rather difficult to swim in the ocean, pool, or go down the water slide (yes I said water slide - 2 man tube with Josef!) with a scarf or hat on my head. So, I went bald. My kids didn't care, and frankly that's all I really cared about.

There are many people, especially teenage girls, who give me a few prolonged stares. I guess they're trying to figure out whether or not I have cancer, alopecia, or just plain baldness.

I'm having to follow the advice I have given countless times to my children: Who cares what other people think? Truth is, I really don't care, otherwise, I probably wouldn't even don a bathing suit!

I must admit, it feels amazing to have the trade winds tousling my baby fine stubble and have the ocean spray splash on my head. It is a very free feeling, one I plan to remember for the rest of my life.

To quote a fellow warrior in the fight against breast cancer:

"Remember, we are so much more than our appearance, and our value goes so far beyond what people see on the outside every day. So celebrate that inner bald chick! We all have one.". Laura Berman, PhD

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

A reminder that I am a mother with normal motherly worries...

As I relaxed in my cabana, three days into our ten day vacation, gazing at the ocean and trying to decide between a burger and fries for lunch or a healthier salad option, my serenity was abruptly interrupted by Josef running up to me with his hands clenched over his mouth. I was horrified to see his two front permanent teeth were fractured off and gone. Josef had hit his face on the bottom of the pool slide when another boy landed on top of him.

The next several frenzied hours involved us finding and going to a pediatric dentist in Honolulu, 45 minutes from our hotel.

The dentist put a temporary protective coating on his broken teeth so he could eat and drink and enjoy the rest of our vacation, until we can have his teeth repaired properly back home. Josef was a real trooper.

The dentist was a kind man who took great care of Josef and who recognized in me the signs of someone with cancer, as his wife is a survivor now of 12 years. After he made the temporary repair, he said he was glad I had this reminder today that I still have 'normal' mom worries. He was right...today I was a normal mom and though life is full of unexpected and unwanted events, I'm glad I'm here to experience them.

Tomorrow though, I'm back to relaxing in the shade...this time with a cocktail. ;)


Sunday, July 22, 2012

Celebrating the end of Chemo

It's been almost 6 weeks since my last chemo. I've since started the Lupron shots and the Tamoxifen. So far, other than expected bone pain and frequent hot flashes, it's been going pretty well.

To celebrate the end of my chemo, we took our kids and my parents to Disney's Aulani resort, where we can relax, have some fun, and forget about cancer for awhile.

As we were enjoying the sun, Minnie, Mickey, Goofy and friends came out by the pool, dancing to Hawaiian music...it made me happy when my 17 year old was still eager to pose for a picture with me and Minnie. After all the months of pain, illness, and sometimes sadness, it sure feels good to have my happy, smiling family around me, on a beach with a couple of mice and all their friends.

Aloha

Lisa

Friday, July 13, 2012

Pepper Kisses

One of my fondest memories was of my grandpa's infamous pepper kisses. Upon returning from work each day with a coveted gift of a bag of pretzels, my grandpa would clutch us closely and rub his unshaven cheek to ours...pepper kisses! We dreaded them, but we loved them too!

I never thought I'd be able to pass those pepper kisses on to my children...gratefully so, since I lacked facial hair (for now!). But since being bald and retaining some prickly stubble, I can happily report that my children and husband have now, too, been the reluctant recipients of many pepper kisses. Josef, for one, actually asks for them, only to giggle madly as he pretends to fight me off.

Since completing chemo, my pepper kiss prickle is giving way to duckling kiss fuzz and I find myself grateful for this moment in time that I'm quite certain my grandpa in Heaven had so much to do with....

Thursday, July 12, 2012

No Proof Necessary...

"For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who don't believe, no proof is possible." Stuart Chase

I truly believe in guardian angels and I believe they can take all forms - a dragonfly hovering nearby, a bumblebee feigning interest in a flower, a butterfly flitting just above, a hummingbird humming about, and even a clumsy mosquito hawk bumbling around my porch light!

Every time I see a winged creature that seems to linger near me, I believe it is a guardian angel checking in!

Be nice to winged creatures..."for some thereby have entertained angels unawares." Heb 13:2

Monday, July 9, 2012

Warning: Cooking May Cause Cancer

Well, for the first time in over 6 months, I shopped for groceries and cooked dinner for my family.

As I was cooking, I was reminded why and how much I hate cooking. I tried to tell Steve that cooking caused my cancer. He didn't buy it.

Wonder if he'll believe that laundry and house cleaning cause cancer too!

Turns out the only thing I'm good at making is reservations!

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Waiter, there's a hair in my soup!

And it definitely ain't mine!

Will I Live to see 80?

Here's something to think about.

I recently picked a new primary care doctor. After two visits and exhaustive Lab tests, he said I was doing ‘fairly well’ for my age. (I will soon turn Forty-Eight).

A little concerned about that comment, I couldn't resist asking him, 'Do you think I'll live to be 80?'

He asked, 'Do you smoke tobacco, or drink beer, wine or hard liquor?'

'Oh no,' I replied. 'I'm not doing drugs, either!'

Then he asked, 'Do you eat rib-eye steaks and barbecued ribs?'

'I said, 'Not much... my former doctor said that all red meat is very unhealthy!'

'Do you spend a lot of time in the sun, like playing golf, tennis, boating, sailing, hiking, or bicycling?'

'No, I don't,' I said.

He asked, 'Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have a lot of sex?'

'No,' I said...

He looked at me and said,..
'Then, why do you even give a crap?'

Ha ha!

Friday, July 6, 2012

My Strength is Made Perfect in Weakness..

"And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." 2Corinthians 12:9 KJV

Thursday, July 5, 2012

It's Not Over When it's Over

This article really sums up everything I'm feeling...

It's Not Over: Life After Breast Cancer
By Christine Haran

It's often assumed that coping with the shock of a breast cancer diagnosis is the most difficult part of living with breast cancer, but women who have had breast cancer know that life is often hardest after treatment ends.

While women and their friends and family are eager for life to return to normal, many women struggle to move from the crisis mode they entered to get though treatment back to everyday activity.

Women who have had breast cancer often say that they are physically and spiritually transformed by having faced a life-threatening illness. These changes can permeate all facets of life and both strain and strengthen relationships.

Hester Hill Schnipper, a breast cancer survivor and chief of oncology social work at Beth Israel Deaconess in Boston, is the author of After Breast Cancer: A Common-Sense Guide to Life After Breast Cancer, which was published by Bantam in October 2003. Below, Schnipper explains how women and their loved ones can learn to cope with the complexities of life after breast cancer.

Why is finishing treatment sometimes more frightening than actually undergoing treatment?

There is a huge relief associated with being completed with the treatment, but it's also frightening for lots of reasons.

The most important one is probably the feeling that, "Uh-oh, now I'm not doing anything active to fight the cancer, and what if there are cells left in my body lurking somewhere that now will be free to flourish and grow."

It's also frightening because while going through treatment, women become accustomed to frequently seeing their doctors or nurses or other caregivers. Particularly during radiation, which is a daily occurrence, the techs that administer the radiation can feel like your closest buddies for a month or six weeks. To all of a sudden be cut off from people who have been so reassuring by being told by your doctor, "Okay, you're done, see you in six months," feels as though you've kind of been pushed out the door precipitously.

The last thing is that because chemotherapy particularly can be so physically arduous, many women have used all of their emotional and physical energy just to get through it day-by-day. When the crisis is over, and you have a chance to sit down, you think, "Oh, my God, what did I just get through?"

How does it affect families and friends?

Most people's family and friends are hugely relieved that it's over and are more than ready to have life get back to normal, though it might be embarrassing for them to admit it. By the time the months of treatment are over, they've really had it, even if they've been wonderfully loving and supportive and helpful all along.

Also, many friends and family members think that when the treatment is over, breast cancer is over. Lots of people really are unaware that there's never a way for a woman to be promised that the cancer will never come back, that she is still very much living with all the same kinds of uncertainty and fear that she's been living with since the moment of diagnosis.

Do you have advice about improving communication about this?

Probably the best advice is to try to be as honest and open as you can about what you're feeling. Women often need to be really specific with their families and friends about what they need. That gets tricky because what we need changes daily. Sometimes our families and our friends really can't win, because on the one hand, we get very tired of being asked in the very sympathetic voice, "Oh, how are you?" when we want to be treated as though we're normal. And then five minutes later, we want somebody to remember what we've been through, and that we may still really be struggling with this.

What shouldn't people say to someone who has just finished treatment?

Probably one of the ones I hear the most often from women is: "How do they know it worked?" Or, "Are you cured now?" Or, "How are they going to check and make sure the cancer's really gone?" Of course, the answer to all those questions is there's no way to know for sure, and questions like that generally just make the woman feel scared all over again.

How can women cope with the longer-term physical effects of treatment?

The rule of thumb is that it takes approximately as long as the total duration of treatment to feel really well again. So it generally takes months for somebody to really feel as sturdy and well as she was feeling before her breast cancer diagnosis.

Beyond hair growing in and the return of energy after chemotherapy, there are some physical changes and side effects that persist for a long time. The most obvious one is probably if there are physical changes caused by surgery. If a woman has had a mastectomy or reconstruction, or even with lesser breast surgery, breasts usually look different than they did before and they certainly feel different after radiation. Getting used to what your new body is like takes a while.

Are there any special considerations for women with young children?

For most mothers, one of the most, if not the most, upsetting thing(s) about breast cancer is worrying about dying and leaving children before they're grown. Of course, moms of young adult children are also very much needed by their kids.

Through treatment, particularly if a mother has been really sick, she may have not been able to be the fully active participatory mom that she usually is. She probably hasn't been able to drive the same carpools or get to all the games or just not been able to be there in the same ways. That just has to be rebuilt gradually as energy and strength come back.

What about the kids?

Mothers also need to give their children chances to talk about cancer. What we find is that most kids behave as though nothing happened because most mothers have made an heroic effort to have their kids' lives go on as normally as possible. And that's the best thing we can do for our kids. But you can be sure that your children did notice. They may, at some point, want to talk about it, and they may not.

My best advice to women is to occasionally bring it up in conversation. Perhaps say at the dinner table, "I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and I'm feeling fine, but I'll be glad when we're sitting here at dinner tomorrow night, and I can tell you all that everything went well at the doctor just as I think it's going to." Just make occasional comments to suggest that the cancer experience is an acceptable topic and that any time the child wants to say something about it, he or she can feel free to do that—that it's not taboo.

How can breast cancer be spiritually transforming?

I certainly experienced it myself, and I hear it from women all the time, that just the way they aren't any atheists in a foxhole, there aren't too many women who've been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness who don't begin to really grapple with the big existential questions in life. For lots of women, that means beginning to think about whether they believe in God or some kind of guiding spirit.

Lots of women find that they return to a church or a temple that they maybe attended in their childhood. Other people may go church or temple shopping and try to find a place that feels comfortable now. Plenty of people never feel the need to join any kind of organized and formal religion, but do feel a need to get their own sort of souls in order as they think about "How do I find meaning?"

How do women learn to live with the fear of recurrence?

For most of us, that is the very hardest part of breast cancer. We can never be promised that we can stop worrying. We know that something like 60 percent of all recurrences happen in the first three years, so after three years, I tell women they can let out half a sigh of relief. Then with every passing year that you stay well, the odds increase that you're going to stay well. So things look brighter after six years than they did after four years. But the truth is that breast cancer can recur years later, so we're never completely out from under the cloud.

It really helps most women to talk about it. Even though the instinct might be to not express the fear, bottling it up probably makes it worse. To find a person or a couple people or a support group where a woman can talk about what she's afraid of is helpful.

In the early weeks, months, even years after finishing treatment it is so hard to build a life that is the way you want it.

I want to reassure women that no matter how sad, scared, terrified or crazy you feel in the first weeks and months after finishing breast cancer treatment, it really does get better as time goes on. There are lots of us living out there and living very well and very happily.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Do Everything With Love

"Watch, stand fast in the faith, be brave, be strong. Let all that you do be done with love.". 1 Corinthians 16:13, 14

How easy it is to tell someone you love them, yet sometimes it seems hard to do. Let your tone soften whenever you speak, add 'please' and 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry' wherever needed, and say 'I love you' as much as you possibly can!

Monday, July 2, 2012

Fuzzy Wuzzy...

...had no hair...until now!

Three weeks after my last chemo, if you look in just the right light, you can see tiny hairs, almost like duckling fuzz, growing on my head!!

It is a subtle sign that life is moving forward in a positive direction!

And speaking of moving forward, I received the first of many quarterly Lupron shots last week. The Lupron will keep me in a post-menopausal state, which will keep me from producing estrogen - one of the hormones that fueled my tumor. Next week, I begin the Tamoxifen, and a few weeks later I begin three years of bi-annual bone strengthening infusions of Zometa, the latest medical advancement to try to prevent the cancer from returning.

I've been told by my Dr. that the milestone for becoming a survivor is now 10 years rather than 5. I'd be lying if I didn't admit I feel worry every day that sometime in the next few years, I will have an ache somewhere, or a persistent headache, only to discover the cancer has returned. This is not an attitude of negativity, and it is not just a matter of 'thinking positive' - it is simply a factual way of thinking that takes place once you've had cancer, chemo, surgeries, and lots of drug therapy. Cancer will always be on my mind and will always be a part of my life.

The ONLY positive to come from all of this is that I hope to continue to live my life in constant appreciation for my faith, family, friends, and good health.

This past weekend was my first real outing since my mastectomy in January...Steve and I traveled to St. Helena to attend the wedding of the daughter of dear family friends. It allowed Steve and I to reminisce about our own wedding, as the reception was in the same wine cellar where we celebrated our marriage 21 years ago this coming October. I was then, and I still am today, the luckiest girl in the world!