BC Becky

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

Tag: friends

  • Waiting for the text/call

    Waiting for the text/call

    I’m in a time of remembering and a time of waiting. Waiting for the text or call that will tell me that another of my friends has passed from this earth. She is a mother of two young children, which makes the sadness that much more intense.

    As I wait, expecting the next text to be the one, I remember. I remember our hikes together. I remember her using my phone to take fun pictures while at a retreat.

    As I wait, my life goes on. I keep myself busy with work and school. I give myself permission to be pensive, to be quiet, to allow myself to begin the grieving process – even though she is not yet gone, my grieving has begun.

  • Reaching out

    It is difficult when you are new to someplace to start to reach out and meet new people. It is especially difficult to reach out when you have cancer (and it is obvious).

    When I first moved to California, I spend a fair bit of my time trying to make connections with people here. I joined a couple of “meet ups” and I went to church. I was making a real effort to meet new people and make connections. Unfortunately, after diagnosis that stopped. I did meet new people, but mostly they were related to my cancer diagnosis, rather than me (although I have to say I’ve made at least one friend through the cancer process). It has been very difficult to even think about going back to even the things in which I had already been doing, never mind doing something new.

    After my first service at the Unitarian Church in San Jose,  I decided we would give it a try in the fall when they went back to the regular church schedule. Like many Unitarian Churches, their summer schedule involved special lay led worship services, which are not always easy for new comers. However, shortly after the service I attended in May, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I found myself wishing we had reached out to the congregation sooner, so that we would have had the support that comes with being a member, but also, found myself afraid to go to the congregation, as now I wasn’t just a normal person off the street, I am someone who is coming with a need (or at least a potential need).

    To help make the transition, I did ask our minister from Ottawa to make an introduction. That way, when we arrived, we would not be complete strangers to the church. But still, I was very hesitant. I certainly wasn’t willing to go alone to service – it was not optional that my husband join me. Part of me felt the connection to this congregation the first time I attended back in early May, but part of me was afraid to introduce myself to a new community. How do I even begin to say who I am now? How is my headscarf not an elephant in the room? If (when) we need help, how will be able to ask for it, having not first arrived in a position to give?

    So today, when we finally were in town on a Sunday (another challenge with reaching out is that we often go sailing or camping on the weekends). We made the leap and went to church. Truthfully, church went well today. The service was good and the people were really welcoming. We happened to attend on a Sunday where they had a special lunch for new people – so we stayed and got to meet a few people and the two ministers in a much smaller group setting. I was struck by how similar the people are to the people at church in Ottawa – they are all Unitarians after all! Although in the small group I did choose to disclose that I had cancer, I didn’t feel like it was something that was a barrier. I could have chosen not to say anything, and people would have just listened to what I had to say (we were sharing a bit about our spiritual pathways). In hindsight, I didn’t actually share that much about my spiritual path because I was so focused on getting the words out of my mouth … “shortly after I moved here, I was diagnosed with breast cancer” … I cannot remember what I said after that, but I quickly finished off my sharing and allowed the conversation to move on to the next person. And that was it. I felt accepted for who I was, and where I was, and no pressure was placed on me (or us). We were encouraged to get involved to the level in which we felt comfortable. Actually, as far as welcoming goes – this congregation did a pretty darn good job.

    So, we shall reach out a little further and join the monthly potluck supper group. It is a chance to meet the dynamically different people involved in the congregation in a small group setting – with no pressure to be anything except myself. This reminds me why I’m a Unitarian Universalist 🙂  … maybe on Friday I’ll reach out to one of the meet up groups that I was a part of before my diagnosis …  but I’m not sure I have the strength/courage to do that just yet, we’ll see.

  • So I did it, but I need your help

    So, I did it, I signed myself up for the Avon Walk. This is a fundraising event that involves walking 39.3 miles over two days. The first day you walk a marathon, and the second day you walk a half marathon. The walk takes place through the city streets – in my case, it will be through the streets of San Francisco. As this is a fundraising walk, I need your help. In order to participate I need to raise at least $1800. So, I’m asking for your help. My fundraising page is:  http://info.avonfoundation.org/goto/rjhogue. I may seem like a cliche statement, but every little bit helps.

    I really debated signing up for the walk. I don’t generally like these large fundraiser event type things – but I was motivated by several things. First, one of the ladies in one of my support groups spoke very highly of it. She said she found a lot of encouragement in the crowds that gathered to cheer them on. It as an emotional but very uplifting experience, and that takes on a whole new meaning when you are walking as a warrior/survivor.

    I looked into where the money went. I’m lucky to be located near Stanford, a center for excellence in breast cancer treatment. It is where a lot of the clinical trials happen. It is one of the few universities in the US that set the standards of treatment for the rest of the country. But I’ve also been lucky to be near Bay Area Women’s Cancer Connections (BCC), an organization that has provided me with a lot of support. There are lots of free resources that have been made available to me. I’m also very aware of a lot of women who are cancer poor. Women who have to make treatment decision based upon their finances. And I don’t even see the women who don’t get screening done or who have very limited access to healthcare. It is a real problem here – and so events like the Avon Walk providing funding for research, they also provide resources for women who could not otherwise afford them.

    The final reason I decided to do it (other than the cool opportunity to see San Francisco) was the timing of the walk itself. I’ve started to look beyond treatment – I’m making the move to look ahead in my life. The walk will come at a time when I should have completed the major treatment phases of breast cancer (chemo and surgery). There is some hope that after surgery I get declared “NED” (no evidence of disease). The treatment doesn’t stop there, as I’ll be on hormone blocking medications for 10-years – but I should be disease free. As such, the walk will mark a transition – from warrior to survivor – and that is something significant and should be celebrated.

    As I write this, it is day three of my third chemo cycle. I had a great visit with a friend today which did a good job of distracting me from how awful I feel on day 3. Last cycle I also felt awful on day 4, so I have a reiki appointment which will hopefully fill me with healing energy and get me through this cycle. I’m truly hoping that the cumulative effect doesn’t mean I feel awful on day 5! Only one more cycle of AC to go (yay) – and my oncologist promises that T will be better! Going out today gave me an excuse to dress up and try out the stylin’ new hat and earrings my mom sent! I am amused at how much I like to dress up when I go out now – that is so not like the old me.

    We are going camping on Saturday night. We have not been camping yet this summer – which is so unlike us. Having a temporary disability permit has been a life saver for me. It has meant that I can run errands even when my energy is low, but it also means we can go camping this weekend. The California State parks set aside certain sites that can only be used by someone with a placard. So even if all the other sites are full, no one else is permitted to use them. This meant that when I was looking for a site on Monday, there was one still available for Saturday. It is a real savior to be able to go camping at the last minute, as there was no way we could have planned in advance how I would be feeling. Honestly, I’m not 100% certain I’ll actually be up for it – but I figure, if nothing else I can spend an afternoon reading a book in my camp chair surrounded by ancient trees – sounds pretty peaceful to me!

     

  • The Cactus Garden

    Today was mostly a quiet day, with a great visit from a friend, and a quick trip up to Stanford for an EKG (baseline prior to chemo). Since I arrived early, they seem to have a habit of telling me my appointments are 20-30 minutes before they actually schedule the appointment, I took the extra half hour to take a closer look at the cactus garden. Just before the garden, there are a bunch of trees that have been relocated into giant transplant containers. They are building a new hospital, so there is construction everywhere. Apparently, they try to save a lot of the trees during construction, and replant them when the buildings are finished.

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    I find it interesting that Royal Roads University has a rose garden, and Stanford University has a cactus garden.

    2014-06-27 14.42.34 2014-06-27 14.41.37 2014-06-27 14.41.27 2014-06-27 14.38.06 2014-06-27 14.37.42 2014-06-27 14.37.37 2014-06-27 14.37.09And of course the requisite selfie in front of my tree :-), I notice that it is starting to loose a little more of its bark. Thanks Maha for the lovely scarves – this one does a great job hiding my port incision.
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