BC Becky

Never thought I'd want to be a breast cancer survivor

Category: recovery

  • I am cancer free

    It is amazing how difficult that was form to type and how difficult it was for me to say. It is almost as difficult as it was for me to say “I have breast cancer”.

    I’ve actually been cancer free since December 17, 2014 – when the last of my breast tissue was removed from my body and my new ‘not breasts’ were created. However, whenever someone asked, I always said it with the caveat as far as I know. I did not want to jinx it, and say it. But that has meant that I’ve been carrying the burden of not believing it. With every new (or old) ache or pain, I fear that it is cancer.

    You see, I’ve had a variety of doctors appointments this week. Mostly 3/6 month checkups, but also a bit of a scare over headaches. I had both my oncologist and my breast surgeon say it No evidence of disease. Actually, it was amusing. When my breast surgeon walked in, I told her, I needed to hear the words. I needed her to say it. Her comment was that she writes it down all the time. She said it multiple times during my checkup. All clear – no evidence of disease – you are healthy, get on with your life, next checkup in a year – but if there is anything of concern, don’t hesitate to call/make and appointment.

    Now that all my doctors have told me, I am finding that I just needed to say it. I need to say it a lot. I need say it until I can say it without crying. I need internalize what I’m saying and actually believe it.

    After my appointment, I went for one last visit to my tree.
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    Most of my non-cancer related healthcare is at PAMF. I’m going to have to start calling them first, rather than calling oncology first. As I walked back to the car after taking the picture, I realized that I never want to see the inside of the Stanford Hospital again – ever!

    I then went to the gym. I practiced saying I am cancer free, first with my friend there, then with others in the group (my friend kept encouraging me – or more like making me). I still cannot type it without crying, but I’m getting there. So one more time, I am cancer free.

  • Moving beyond a 3-month horizon

    I had a couple of follow up doctor’s appointments yesterday. I was struck by how everyone seem to be commenting on my hair – then I realized, the last time I was in to see these doctors I only had a thin covering of grey hair, not a head full of dark hair. So, I guess, yes, my hair has grown quite a bit (as I write this I’m adding some colour to again cover the bits of grey that are popping out).

    Let me start by saying – it is not cancer. I actually had my oncologist agree to the statement that as far as he is concerned, I have no evidence of disease (These would be the good words that I specifically needed to hear). However, I’m having headaches. I have been having headaches for months. I had already seen my oncologist about my headaches once already. When talking to my friend, she encouraged me to just ask for what I wanted – and so – rather than skirting around the issue – I asked point blank for a brain MRI. I wanted to rule out cancer. My oncologist agreed – which in turn made me really nervous. My oncologist is typically not one to order tests when they are not necessary. And so, over the last week, I’ve been doubly stressed – headaches and worries that the cancer might have spread to my brain (highly unlikely – but still the headaches became a constant reminder). So, on Tuesday morning I had a brain MRI. On Thursday afternoon my oncologist told me that my brain is normal for someone my age (yay). Now, this doesn’t address the headaches, but there is some hope, that my CPAP (aka my panacea) will resolve the headaches. That or one of the many medications I’m on.

    And so, now I am taking more deep breaths. I’m hoping that the headaches stop soon, but at least now I know that I don’t have breast cancer metastasis to the brain. Over the last couple months, I would often make decisions based upon the question would I still want to do this if I had mets? I realize now just how much of that is catastrophizing (thinking only of the worst-case scenario).

    I’m hoping that I can focus a little better now. I also noticed that I had only been allowing myself to make plans within a three month window. I have a trip to Niagara and Toronto next week (seeing my parents for the first time since my big surgery, then presenting at a conference). I have another trip planned for early September – presenting at two conferences in the UK and visiting several people while there. We have talked about a trip to visit parents for American Thanksgiving, but I wasn’t allowing myself to book anything. I wanted to make sure I was healthy first.

    I am now going to challenge to myself to think of my life beyond 3-months. I am going to challenge myself to make plans for something that is further in the future. I am going to try to move beyond my three-month horizon!

  • Power of 39 #powerof39 #avon39SF

    On the first day, I didn’t really buy into all the hype about the #powerof39. I didn’t really get what it meant to participate in such an event. I’d had friends who had participated in a similar event in Canada, but I didn’t really understand what it was all about.

    I signed up for the Avon Walk back in August when I was still doing my first type of chemotherapy. At the time, I was walking regularly and it gave me something to focus on. I even wrote about how it was part of my stretch goals. However, this was before neuropathy. It was before I decided to have reconstructive surgery – and particularly a type of reconstructive surgery that had a long recovery period.

    After my major surgery, I wrote about my new years goals (rather than resolutions). At the time, I still had hopes of recovering and completing the Avon Walk. This was when I thought that I would heal from my surgery. It was before I had debilitating knee and joint pain from taking too much Cipro, which I was taking because I had surgical drains. It was before I realized that I would need another surgery to fix the holes in my stomach. It was also when I thought my neuropathy would heal a whole lot quicker than it has.

    In April, I was starting to feel a little better, however, I was still only able to walk 6km. I knew I was not training nearly enough. I had resigned myself to walking 4-5 miles and then taking the sweep vehicle. I could not possibly see myself getting past that 4-5 mile barrier. Even in June, when we took a week of vacation mostly to train for the Avon walk and explore the Eastern Sierra’s. I managed to hike for five days in a row – with the longest hike being 6.3km. After returning from vacation, I managed a 10km walk. That inspired me to try out a longer hike the weekend before the Avon Walk. I managed two epic hikes of 10-miles each, on the Friday and Saturday before the walk. If I had been following any of the official training plans, I should have been taking the weekend before the walk off – but this was really the first time felt well enough to challenge myself. And, it meant that I went into the Avon Walk with more confidence than I otherwise would have.

    I was encourage by my walking partner. My Aunt Sharon from Port Colborne in Canada, flew down to walk with me (we were both disappointed when the Avon Walk folks said there were people from 48 states represented at the San Francisco walk, but they didn’t mention that there was at least one person from Canada!) – anyways, I was very glad to have a walking buddy, but also glad that she pushed me. In the weeks leading up to the walk, she mentioned that she was feeling ready and wanted to attempt to do the entire distance. This provided me with a little extra encouragement to keep training and to give it a try. I started focusing more and more on walking, rather than biking or swimming.

    And so, on Saturday, I started walking. There were over 2000 walkers for the Avon 39 SF walk. We made many rookie mistakes – we didn’t dress right, we didn’t start quickly enough, and we didn’t rest often enough (in part because we didn’t start quickly enough).

    My first attempt at a weekend charity event, was the weekend MS Ride in Ottawa back in 2010. I mostly did it so that I could have the background in which to write about such events in a cycle touring book I was working on. At the time I did not write about our experience. We didn’t really enjoy it. We found that the people generally rode with their friends in groups. There was no space for someone who wasn’t part of a group. We met one person, but didn’t stay in contact. Really, the only reason we met that other person was because he was riding a trike and we were riding recumbents (which is usually enough to have people want to talk to us).

    We found the same cliquiness with the Avon Walk. I tried several times to engage the people walking around me in conversation. They just didn’t seem to want to talk. So we mostly just talked to each other. I was very glad to have my Aunt as a companion on this walk.

    One of the groups at the Avon Walk is the group of non-group people, known as the Solo Strutters. They were identified by people wearing blue hats. Even though I was in a team with my Aunt, I now wish that we had also joined the solo strutters. The blue hats were meant to help people identify each other – but they also provided a signal – one that you were walking alone and willing to engage in conversation with others. The hat was a way to say “come talk to me!” This goes to our first rookie mistake – not dressing right. Everyone was in pink and many people were decked out is practical yet fun outfits. I wore my yellow shirt the first day, largely so that I could be found in a crowd – but it also meant that I wasn’t expressing the “I’m part of this movement” vibe. Scott, my husband and designated sherpa for the event, found that he needed to wear something pink so that he was identified as someone that was a part of the event (even if not officially).

    Our second mistake was that we did not position ourselves at the front of the pack at the start. With so many walkers, we ended up near the tail end early on and had difficulty recovering from that. The first two miles were painfully slow, as traffic lights and narrowing paths caused the walkers to spread out. I can walk pretty well, but I cannot stand well. Walking slowly is also really difficult – so the combination of standing waiting for the opening ceremonies and walking slowing for the first two miles didn’t set me up well. We also stopped at the first rest stop to pee – which meant standing in line to use the porta potties. This cost us about 30 minutes, which we were both not walking nor resting – rather we were standing in line. To do it again, we’d have stopped at one of the several open coffee shops, grabbed a good cup of coffee, and used their facilities. Our feedback for the organizers is that they need more porta-potties at the first water stop of the day – as everyone seems to need them!

    Being at the end of the pack meant that we didn’t spend much time at any of the rest stops. Our third rookie mistake is that we didn’t actually rest. Mostly the stops didn’t really have a place for you to rest. They lacked chairs – and getting up off the ground (or curb) wasn’t easy for either of us. So, instead of resting, we chose to keep walking. Our plan was to take a bit of a longer rest after the Golden Gate bridge, at the lunch stop. Then we would power on. Unfortunately, just after grabbing our lunch, as we were half-way through our sandwiches, the announcement was made that we needed to either start walking or get on one of the buses to base camp. The lunch stop was closing!

    We powered on and made it through to another rest stop before I finally had to say I couldn’t continue. We walked 17 miles.
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    As we waited for the sweep vehicle to take us to base camp, we got a chance to met ‘the caboose’ – who is the sweep cyclist who officially is the last person on the walk. No walkers are allowed to enter a checkpoint after the caboose has left. The caboose provided encouragement for the walkers at the end of the pack – but also needs to tell people that they have to get into the sweep vehicle if they won’t make the check point on time. It is a tough job, but she did it with a smile. It was nice to chat with her a bit as they closed up the checkpoint. Once the sweep vehicle arrived, we were whisked away to base camp.

    Arriving at base camp, we were cheered and congratulated as we walked the last few steps through the arches that signified the end of day 1. Neither of us felt particularly celebratory and didn’t feel like we had earned the cheers. We didn’t make it to base camp; however, we did successfully walk 17 miles – the further I have ever walked in my life.

    We approached day two differently. I was prepared to take a sweep shuttle between a couple of the earlier stops, so that I had the energy to make it over the Golden Gate Bridge and from the last check point (Chrissie Fields) to the closing. I wanted to earn the cheers as I crossed the finish line. My Aunt wanted to try and walk the entire route – and so we discussed how I might get on a shuttle and we would find each other at the closing ceremonies.

    We got off to a good start. It certainly helped that when we arrived back at base camp, we had a decent breakfast right before we started walking. Breakfast had not been provided on day 1, which meant we ate at the hotel more than an hour before we started walking. Eating just before gave us a little more energy to push ourselves. At the first intersection we discovered that we were being cheered on by the same group of people that cheered us on the day before – the same crew from the Moto motorcycle club and the San Jose bicycle police, as well as many other cheerers – who we saw over and over again throughout the day. Seeing the familiar faces, and being recognized made us feel a lot more part of the community.

    We started out day 2 near the front of the pack. When we reached the first checkpoint, I was still feeling good, so decided to continue walking. Rather than stopping and waiting in line for the porta-potties, we pushed on to the second stop. This kept us at the front of the pack and ahead of the lines. The second rest stop also had chairs, so we intentionally sat down for 5-minutes, took a selfie, and rested. Then we continued walking, repeating this process at the following rest stops.

    I did well right up until the Golden Gate Bridge. As we were coming into Fort Baker my shin splits were acting up – truth be told, they started up on day 1, but I was mostly able to walk through the pain. They started to get bad before the bridge. I was OK walking up or down hills, but was challenged on the flats. I called in my sherpa (Scott) to come rub down my shins with some Voltaren gel – hoping that would help.

    As I walked off the Golden Gate Bridge, I was in horrible pain. I decided to pop by the medical tent, in hopes of seeing Laurie – my physical therapist who happened to be a volunteer at the walk. As luck would have it, she happened to be at the medical tent. I got in the queue to see her, and rested up for the final very flat 2.5 miles into Fort Mason. She did a quick bit of massage on the worst of the shins (my right), and wrapped some ice on it. They tried to encourage me to take the sweep vehicle, but I was having none of that. We were just too close – I knew I had it in me to finish. So, I was directed to remove the ice after 15 minutes, and allowed to continue. We pushed on and made it through the closing gates about 30 minutes before the caboose!

    We arrived to cheers that felt so wholeheartedly authentic. I should mention that one of the highlights was seeing the same people cheering us on over and over again. The folks from the SF Moto crew would be cheering us on and directing traffic as one intersection, and once the caboose crossed, they would pass us on their bikes, and we would see them again at a further up intersection directing traffic. It got to a point where they recognized us – and us them. So, on day 2, the encouragement felt very personal – somewhere along the route on day 2 my experience had changed – I started to really understand what the power of 39 was all about.

    Just after crossing the finish line:
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    The closing ceremonies were a particular highlight. They grouped us by volunteers, walkers, and survivors. They had the volunteers walk to the stage first, and then fill the areas outside the barricades. Then they had the family and friends walk to the front and go to the outside corral, then walkers walk to the stage going to the inside corral, so they could greet the volunteers as they went to the stage and filled in behind the walkers and further up the coral. Finally, they had the survivors walk to the stage. Just before we began to walk, I found my survivor friend who also completed the walk and gave her a big hug! We both cried as we walked to the front, being cheered on by those that helped encourage us in our walking. I saw so many familiar faces cheering us on. It was truly very touching. We danced. They presented several grants to help show us where the money was going – it was good to see the biggest grant on display – $500,000 – to a research project that was looking at medications to help make chemotherapy drugs more effective with less side effects specifically for those with metastatic disease. There were also several smaller grants to community-based groups that provide nurse navigation support to under-served populations in Northern California (specifically hispanic and aboriginal).

    Overall, I left on a high note. I’m really glad I did it. I wish I was able to walk the entire distance the first day, but my accomplishments were huge. I didn’t expect that I could ever have walked 17 miles one day and 15.5 miles the next.

    Will I do it again? I don’t know yet … I’m seriously thinking about it. I really did find that by the end of day 2 I was having a really good time. I enjoyed the energy. More importantly, it gave me a reason to push myself. It helped me focus my training. It provided a goal that has made me strong. I never, ever, would have contemplated a 10-mile hike, and yet, I managed two back-to-back the weekend before. I also didn’t think that I’d ever be able to walk far enough to manage The Camino de Santiago (on my bucket list). I need to be able to walk a minimum of 18km / day in order for that to be feasible. It now looks possible!

    We didn’t take too many photos on the first day, as we were focused on just walking. Since we were taking rest stops on the second day, we took that opportunity to take regular selfies, which I posted to my mobile blog: http://rjhmo.tumblr.com. And here is a gallery of pictures from our walk: http://dttocs.smugmug.com/Other/20150712-avon-walk/20150712-avon-walk-good/n-BZbfGp

    So for me, the Power of 39 was about being a part of a community – a very temporary one – about the energy to push yourself further than you thought possible – and about taking one step at a time until your reach your goal. You might just surprise yourself, I did!

     

  • Changes

    It is interesting how some changes just sneak up on us, and others hit us in the face.

    I’ve been thinking a lot about changes. In my cancer blogosphere, many people are annoyed at the expression/expectation that “cancer changes you”. It was something my mother-in-law said to me early on in the journey. Not so much that it necessarily makes you better or worse, just that it will forever change you. I see that.

    One way that cancer has changed me is that I find that I often ask myself am I doing what I want to be doing? I ask this question multiple times a day. I ask it whenever I’m doing a new task or a repetitive task. Further, I ask myself If I was diagnosed with mets tomorrow, would I still want to be doing this task? I know that in some ways that may sound morose, but it can also be rather liberating. If the answer to the question is no, then I need to be asking myself why I’m doing that task, and if there is a way I can make it so that I do not need to do that task again. It means that I can say ‘no’ the next time I have an opportunity for that task. It also is validating. When the answer is ‘yes’ then I know that I’m doing something that I really want to be doing. I’m focusing on something that I should be focusing on. It is a useful test that I did not have before cancer.

    Today marks 1 year from my first cancer treatment – this was me a year ago today:

    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    Not really afraid, but perhaps apprehensive. I was so strong when I began chemotherapy. Just days before I rode my bike up Mount Hamilton. I was biking almost daily, and walking up to 10km.

    A year later, I’m happy to report that I’m feeling in excellent shape again. Today I got on my ‘bent and rode over to a friends place so that we could walk. Then I rode home. I found myself bursting with energy. I felt strong both on my bike and on my feet. For the first time since surgery, I could lift my legs to start/stop on my recumbent without thinking about my abdominals. It is almost like something went ‘click’ and suddenly all the post-surgery weakness went away. I expected that I would gradually feel better – I didn’t expect it to be a sudden shift from struggling to strength. Just the other day I was writing about how healing take time. It does, so I must be careful not to over do it … but I’m just so glad that I am feeling strong again.

     

  • Epic hikes and sleeping in a tent

    When we noticed a campsite available for Big Basin for one night this long weekend we decided to go camping. It was bit of an experiment for me – to see if I could sleep in a tent. Last time I tried was our weekend at Big Sur the first week in May. That weekend, I found that I could not sleep in a tent for two nights. I was exhausted by the time we got home. So, when we went camping in the Eastern Sierra’s, we rented a van so that I didn’t need to sleep in a tent. That worked well but isn’t a good option for a quick weekend get away.

    The other reason for going up to Big Basin was to do a couple of longer hikes. In the last few weeks (since vacation), I’ve been doing more and more training for the Avon Walk – which is next weekend. It has snuck up on me! Thank-you everyone who has donated to help me be able to participate in the walk. Back in May, I had resigned myself to walking only 4 or 5 miles. Even that would be a stretch given my neuropathy. However, my Aunt (who is generously coming from Canada to walk with me) has encouraged me. She too has been training, and wants to make an attempt at the entire walk (23.8 miles/38.3 km on Saturday, 15.5 miles/24.9km on Sunday).

    In order for me to walk more than 4-5 miles, I have stepped up my training. Last week I hiked 6.78 km at Alum Rock park and did a 10km walk along the Guadalupe trail.

    I decided (crazy me) that I was ready to step up my game and go for a 10 mile hike! It felt a little contradictory to be signing into an ADA campsite (California State Parks have campsites that can only be used by people with ADA placards, that is, handicapped permits), and then asking the ranger for recommendations for a 10-mile hike. And more so, it being 2pm and us planning on going for 10-mile hike that day!  The park itself was a complete zoo. There were warnings on the way up that the day use area was full. The way the park is designed, when that area gets full it backs up the ‘highway’ that runs through the park, making it more difficult for anyone to get anywhere. We were lucky enough to find a place to park for long enough to register – then parked at our campsites and headed out for a hike from there.

    For our first hike, we ended up turning around a little earlier than the recommended hike – in part because we parked at our campsite, which added 2km each way to our hike. In the end, we hiked just shy of 10 miles (15.3 km). In my lifetime I can only remember two other hikes that might have been longer (Robinson Ridge in Kitimat and Fishing Cove Trail in Nova Scotia) the Internet is telling me that both were shorter!

    RK_gpx _2015-07-03_1457

    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    Initially our thought for our second hike was that we would take it easy. My knee had been bothering me on the downhills, so we thought we could make it to the falls and then take a bit of a climb (400m/1300ft climb!) out of the falls and follow the fire road back – which in theory would be less steep. The falls turned out to be a bit further in than we had originally thought – we again found ourselves rationing our water (oops). But, we did it. 17.3 km and almost seven hours of hiking later, we were back at the campground headquarters. We were thankful that the camp store was still open, such that we could reward ourselves with an ice cream before hopping in the car for the 90-minute drive home.

    RK_gpx _2015-07-04_1111

    The trail was beautiful, often passing by groves of giant redwoods.
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    Me taking a selfie!
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    Scott didn’t mention that I had almond butter on my face until well after I took the picture!
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    Our destination was Berry Creek Falls, which we are happy to report actually had water going over it! (things are pretty dry around here)
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    After the water falls, we followed the Howard King Trail, which was pretty much straight up (300m climb over 4km).
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    Which brought us to this lovely scenic overlook were we could see the ocean in the distance.
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    Today we are both a little stiff. We are going to need to go for a short walk around the market to help loosen things up a bit! Overall, I’d say we had a great weekend. I’m feeling a lot more prepared for the Avon Walk next weekend, and looking forward to visiting with my Aunt when she arrives on Wednesday!

     

     

  • Transitions, #avon39, and the Peak Hike.

    In any long journey, transitions matter. Back in August last year, I wrote about the importance of transitions – transitions help mark our waypoints along the journey, but they also give us something to celebrate. A sense that something is finished a new thing is beginning. A way to start things anew.

    Shortly after writing the post Transition Matter, I signed up to do the San Francisco Avon Walk. I had planned on the Avon Walk as being a major transition in my cancer journey. It was to represent the completion of treatment and the journey into living beyond breast cancer. In many ways, a bridging ceremony.

    Little did I know just how far down breast cancer treatment would bring me, and how long it would take for me to climb back out of it. The Avon Walk has helped give me a focal point for my exercise. It has helped to inspire me to walk further and longer than I otherwise would have. It is encouraging me to push myself. That is a good thing.

    I no longer see the Avon Walk as a major transition. This is in part because I do not see myself mysteriously getting better just by walking through the arches at the end of the walk. I know that I still have a long way to go. But I am encouraged. Four weeks ago I thought I’d be lucky to walk 4-miles. I did a 6.2 mile training walk yesterday. There is hope yet that I’ll be able to walk a large portion of it – even if it isn’t the entire 39, it is quite significant. I’m come a long way and that is worth celebrating.

    Today I also signed us up for the Peak Hike. The Peak Hike was the last big walk/hike I did before the Taxol chemo took away my ability to walk. It was monumental for me – hiking further than I had before – bald and fighting off the cognitive fog and physical neuropathy caused by the chemo. I’m a little bit amazed that I managed it.
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

     

    This year is the 20th year of the Peak Hike. We are part of a team – Em the Gem – who have being doing the hike since it began. The team captain has become a friend and was one of my many walking buddies. The ‘honer family’ have helped me with rides to chemo and provided us with dinners after my surgery. We are honered to be part of the family 🙂 …

    The Peak Hike will be an interesting transition for me. It will happened at almost the one year post chemo mark. This is the point where we start to figure out what neuropathy is permanent. It represents a reset in the expectations – at this point the expectation is that the neuropathy will go away – we’ll see. Looking at it now, I’ll be happy if I can make the 7 mile hike. It will be just as momentous this year as it was last, only this time I’ll have hair – so my struggles will not be so obvious to those around me.

    The Breast Cancer Fund looks at research and works towards changing public policies and educating people about things that might lead to breast cancer. They are focused on prevention rather than treatment after the fact.

    If you’d like to contribute to our fundraising for the Peak Hike, you can use these links – Thank-you!

  • Healing takes time

    As frustrating as it may be, the reality is that healing takes time … and lots of it … calendar time … it isn’t something that you can speed up no matter how much you will it to.

    People will often ask me how my neuropathy is. At the moment, it is mostly just painful. I’m looking to that as encouragement – as in, the nerves are re-growing, so it hurts. At this point in time there is nothing they can or will do for it. I take some meds that in theory help to manage the pain. That is about it. Time must pass, and as it does things slowly heal.

    Once a year has passed (end of October), then my neuropathy will be re-assessed. It is at that point (or maybe even 18 months) that we start talking about what is permanent versus the transient pain associated with recovery. As much as I might wish to will it to get better, the reality is, that the only thing that will make it better is time. No amount of physiotherapy, ultrasound, acupuncture, etc, will make the nerves grow back any faster – although those treatments may help temporarily manage the pain – the only thing that will fix the real problem is time. And so, I must learn to be patient and wait.

    When I think about time and healing, I am reminded about just how far I’ve come. I think of my various walking buddies and how they must see the remarkable differences. Back in December, after my surgery (so Christmas), I could barely walk around the complex. I remember going on 5 or 10 minute walks within the interior courtyard with my mother-in-law. Not exactly our usual Christmas afternoon turkey in the oven walks.

    Eventually I graduated to walks out to the pathway behind our house. Even then, I’d walk for 10-15 minutes – very slowly – and then need to sit on the bench. I knew where all the benches were – I created a walking route so that I could stop and sit at each bench as I needed to. So, I must say, that I have come a long way. Yesterday I walked 10km (6.2 miles for the metric challenged). It took me two hours. I didn’t stop to sit down even once.
    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

     

    My parents last saw me in person after my first surgery (American Thanksgiving). I wasn’t quite at my lowest at that point, but I was still in pretty rough shape. Chemo had taken a lot out of me and my neuropathy was pretty darn bad. I’m looking forward to seeing them in a couple of weeks – so that they can see just how far I’ve come.

    As so, I remind myself regularly. Healing takes time. I’ve come a long way, but I also have a long way to go. As much as I want to be back to the super fit me that I was before cancer (or at least that is how I remember myself – the reality of that may also be a bit of a myth that I tell myself), I need to remember healing takes time. It isn’t something that can be rushed.

  • Perspectives

    Sometimes, when you are living it, you focus on one perspective and miss everything else around it. Sometimes all it takes is a friend to make a comment that helps you re-see the issue from a different perspective.

    The theory behind cognitive behavioural therapy is that you can change how you feel by changing how you think. For me, this matters, because I will find myself feeling down or thinking about worst case scenarios – catastrophizing. Worrying. And sometimes, it takes the help of a friend or family member to change the perspective.

    On June 17th, I celebrated 6-months cancer free (woo-hoo). But with this came worry. I saw a graph once about recurrence rates, and it had a bump at 6-months and a bump at 5-years. I think this happens in part because 6-months and 5-years align with doctors visits. It isn’t that it is 6-months post treatment – it is 6-months after my last visit. Anyways, that timing is coming upon me soon. I found myself worrying because no one I know has had a recurrence after I met them. That is – I know people who have had recurrence or worse progression, but they were diagnosed with this before I met them.

    As an aside – progression is a term I’m becoming more familiar with and one that I haven’t used on this blog before so people might not be familiar with it. The term recurrence is usually used when you have a local recurrence of the disease. This is when the disease is found again in the same area. A local recurrence may happen if a new tumor appears on the chest wall or in the opposite breast (not that common). But progression is when the disease spreads – it typically means that you went from an early stage to metastasis (stage 4) or if you have already been diagnosed stage 4 it means the cancer is growing again.

    So I don’t know anyone who was diagnosed at the same time as me who have had a recurrence or progression. I know that statically, this means that someone will .. and sometime soon .. and this worries me. I mentioned it to hubby and he immediately put a different perspective on things .. he said, no one has and maybe no one will .. that it is a good thing that no one has .. it made me think that I need to change how I think. I should be celebrating that no one has, rather than worrying that someone might. It may sound like a little thing, but it is actually a huge shift in perspective – and that shift helps me clear some of the fog that is my current brain …

     

  • Mirror Mirror on the wall

    One thing about California – the closet sliding doors are often made of full length mirrors. This means that every day, after my shower, as I walk passed the closet to the bedroom, I see naked self in the mirror.

    In many ways, this has helped me heal. It has helped me see myself – my scars – and accept them. My breast surgeon and plastic surgeon both did a remarkable job. Sure, my body isn’t perfect (no ones is), but I’m pretty happy with the outcome.

    I do think looking in the mirror every day helps. It helps me accept my body. It is also a constant reminder – so are all the pills I take at 9am and 9pm each day. I am hoping that one day, I will internalize all this change – and it won’t be something that I think about – that the scars will not be a reminder, but rather will just be me. Someday. Just not yet … I’m not there yet. For now, I’ll choose to be happy with the body that I have, and try to accept what has happened and move forward.

  • Struggling to exercise

    I’m struggling to overcome inertia and get back into exercising. I find it easy to make excuses – or to delay just getting out there – or feel that I don’t have enough time to go for a bike ride. In some ways it was easier during chemo. There were no expectations on my time. The entire focus of my day was to exercise. If I managed anything else, that was a bonus.

    So now I’m struggling. I’m trying to do a bunch of stuff. I’m trying to find a balance. And my days are still quite full of doctors appointments – which turns into yet one more excuse to not get out and exercise.

    And so, I’ve decided to re-instate my “What’s your Exercise today” Facebook support group. I will ask the exercise question three days per week (Monday – Wednesday, Thursday/Friday, and Saturday/Sunday). My goal is to have at least two different types of exercise in each timeframe. Since I currently bike, swim, walk/hike, go to the gym – I have options. I just need to push myself to get out and do them.

    So, now that I’ve delayed yet again, I’m going to change and hop on my bike!

    If you are interested in joining Becky’s Exercise challenge, you can sign up on Facebook here – https://www.facebook.com/groups/RJHexerciseTeam/

css.php