6 months ago today - February 1 - I got the call that no one wants to get. "You have cancer". In my case, it was breast cancer - Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.
There are a lot of you here who know this, so it's not a surprise. For those who know me and didn't know, I know this comes as a surprise. It's taken me a while to work up the nerve to share this here, but after the amazing support at the Relay, both with people contributing and people coming out to walk, I knew it was time.
The last 6 months have been a roller coaster, as you can imagine. I've had some of the worst moments in my life (will I live? will I lose my hair (yes), will I get to keep my breasts (so far - yes!), will I ever had kids?). But I've also had some of the best moments of my life. I've never in my life been closer to my friends. I feel a community of people literally lifting me up, taking care of me, and keeping me smiling.
I've been through a surgery - a lumpectomy and an axillary node dissection. I woke up to my cousin telling me, "it's in your lymph nodes. you have to have chemotherapy". I promptly went right back to sleep in the recovery room. Not the news I wanted to hear.
I've undergone nasty, gnarly chemotherapy for the last 4 months. I've puked, I've lost my hair (ALL my hair, everywhere), I've gotten softy and puffy from all the steroids, I've had neuropathy in my fingers, I've had aches that have had me in tears at night unable to sleep. OOh - did I mention I've had hot flashes? Good times.
BUT, I've also seen more of my friends than I have in years. I've become closer to almost everyone in my life. I've reconnected with friends I hadn't talked to in ages. I've actually laughed more in the last 6 months than I have in a while. Gut wrenching, teary eyed laughter. There has been a bright, neon silver lining that I never would have expected.
And, I've mountain biked, I've wakeboarded, I've continued to work, and most days I feel like, "Ok, I can handle this, it's not so bad".
What still lies ahead for me: Another surgery to clean up a "dirty margin" in the area they did the lumpectomy. 7 weeks of daily radiation. I'm going to have a might sunburnt boob. And then 5 years of hormone therapy to ensure the beast is gone.
This is why the Relay for Life was so important to me, and why I cried about 10 times throughout the night. And why I cried again when I saw they'd quoted me in the SLT newspaper and labelled me a "survivor". I love that. It's so much better than cancer patient.
There's lots more to write, but I'll leave it here as my "coming out" post. I waited this long because I didn't think I could handle the "posi vibes" phase. I wanted to know that I was in the "congratulations - you're on your way" phase.
I think of others here on the board who are fighting - plake, mrs. bags, daily. it's gnarly fight - one you'd never think you're up for, but once it's in front of you, you put the damn gloves on and get to work
Here are some photos, since a proper TR has photos. For those who know me and haven't seen me, the photos may be a bit strange to see - I don't quite look like myself. They always shock me, too. I think of this as my phase in life where I'm learning to not be vain.
My cool pre-chemo haircut when I knew I'd lose my long hair that I'd had my whole life. I donated the hair to Locks of Love.
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Mountain biking through chemo has kept me sane, the days I've been well enough to do it. My oncologist laughs when she here's I'm still biking and wakeboarding.
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How Sophie feels about cancer. notice the head has been mauled and destroyed.
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And some Relay for Life pix -thank you so much to all who donated. See the names list for those honored by some of you...
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The maggots made a great showing for some late night laps.
Arty, Davep, skiergirl, snowtigress, wonderwoman, AKA, me, Mrs. Slim, Slim
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And because I love you all so much (most of you), I'm sharing a very vulnerable pic - my bald head.
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And when your bald, your head is a canvas.
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