1/3/2009: I'm a Survivor

I was going to write a blog entry about how my holidays sucked because I spent five days in the hospital and then a couple more at my parents house recouping from a horrible infection and yet another surgery -- until last night.

Referring to myself as a survivor and believing that I am a survivor are two totally different things. For the last several weeks (and possibly months) I have been caught up in my very own pity party instead of staying focused and continuing to fight. My priorities shifted and I wanted to pretend like none of this ever happened.

Last night I played a game called "Would You Rather … ?" (Seriously fun game!) and when my friends all responded differently then I did to a question, I immediately knew why. I was asked if I would rather die in an airplane crash or survive and eat the dead passengers. I immediately answered that I would eat the dead passengers despite my other friends agreeing that they would all rather die. My argument was that I have fought too hard and would do whatever it took to survive. (A bit of a stretch? Eh. Would I really eat a dead person? I don't know … maybe. After all, my mom insists that I look like a vampire now that my blood count is low, my skin is pale and my hair is coal black. This is just another reason why Edward Cullen and I should get married. Sorry, I digressed. Am I a little mentally unstable? Perhaps. But I found my own response quite interesting.) These last couple of days have tried me to my core and the sassy spirit I once had has returned. Cancer picked the wrong bitch.

Let me explain what happened over Christmas. I awoke Christmas morning at my parents' house in horrible pain. I figured perhaps I overdid it at Pilates or yoga that week, or that the gifts were too heavy that I carried down three flights of stairs at my condo complex. I popped two Vicodin and went into the bathroom to survey the damage. My left breast was swollen to my collarbone and was the size of a soccer ball. My skin was severely black and blue. After opening presents and eating breakfast I returned to bed and slept in to the afternoon. I couldn't even wear the outfit I brought because of the swelling. After dinner I asked my Mom to take my temperature, which registered twice at 102. I called Dr. Wendy Gottlieb (my plastic surgeon) who was on holiday in Pennsylvania. She asked a number of questions and then told me to go immediately to the ER. It only made sense that my family end our year the same way we began it … at Reston Hospital with our hearts in our throats.

The doctor in the ER examined me and quickly pointed to my belly button ring indicating that he had found the problem. (We all had a much-needed giggle.) After showering me with compliments about how beautiful my eyes are and how gorgeous he thinks I am he began running all the necessary tests – blood, urine, ultrasound, x-ray, swab of my nose and breast incision … everything but the colonoscopy. (Darn -- perhaps next time.) My blood work came back with my white cells elevated, and low iron (hence the pale skin) and potassium. The ER doctor called Dr. Gottlieb and they decided to start hitting me with the strongest antibiotics they had in hopes that the left breast would react positively. I was admitted into the hospital and told that I may lose my breast for the second time. I was seething inside, but too sick to even complain.

I spent several days bleeding out of my incision and getting pumped with antibiotics through my IV. I barely had enough energy to lift my head. Dr. Felice who is the head of the oncology practice at Reston visited me daily with magic tricks to lift my spirits. I quickly fell for him. My room was constantly occupied by friends and family … and always my Rock (Mom) who never left my side. It was that Saturday that Dr. Gottlieb called me and told me she was returning from vacation to "sort me out." Upon her arrival, she quickly examined me and determined that she needed to "go in, clean things out, and swap the implant." That night I went to bed and with plenty of Vicodin in my system had a conversation with my body, which unbeknownst to me, my mother overheard. I promised my body that I would fight hard and take good care of it if it could just kick into gear and help me out. I can only do so much from the mind, heart and soul – sometimes you need the body to play a part.

Sunday I was in surgery. A bleeder was found with a large hematoma. It was removed, cleaned up and a brand new implant was put in place. It wasn't until 48 hours later, and watching plenty of 'SpongeBob Squarepants' and 'House,' that we found out that the hematoma had group b strep inside of it. Luckily the infection had not moved to my blood stream or anywhere else in my body or breast. My parents left the room after receiving the news and cried in the hallway with my nurses. (I don't think they thought I knew.) I was finally released on 12/30 with pain pills, iron pills, a strong antibiotic – the list goes on. I spent several days at my parents house recouping. The last night I was there I awoke to our little Yorkshire terrier sleeping on my belly with her head resting in my cleavage. (It pleases me that someone is enjoying the fruits of Dr. Gottlieb's labor.)

Now, I am not out of the woods just yet. I have two weeks of strong antibiotics, four weeks of no physical activity and my blood will be tested again at the end of the month. My blood count being bad leaves me open to more infection and even the return of the big C. It is imperative that I get my body strong and back on track. I am on lots of pills (gag!) and eating tons of greens and red meat. I saw Dr. Gottlieb this past Friday and she said that my recovery is simply incredible from a cosmetic standpoint. She reminded me how bad my blood work was and that I need to fight hard now to get strong so that I don't have to lose my breast for a third time.

In my most vulnerable hour I asked my friend JB for the humor in all of this and his response just about sums it all up … "Well, here's the humor. You get laid off and then hired but then you get dumped but then you find independence but then you get cancer and lose a boob but then you get new boobs but then you get sick but soon you'll get better." Life goes on and I can only fight for a healthier and stronger new year. Just know that if we're in a plane crash and you die … I will eat you. I'm a survivor!

11/3/2008: Fellow Survivor

When I was a freshman in college and a new member of Alpha Omicron Pi I was learning about some of my older sisters. In doing so, one of them shared with me her favorite quote.

"In the depths of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer." -- Albert Camus

I loved it so much that I used it as MY favorite quote from that moment forward. And as new AOIIs came through the chapter I shared with them this quote. I believe that it is only in our darkest hours that we truly see ourselves for who we are at the core and embrace the beauty that lies within each of us.

As we dined over fajitas and enchiladas, Jennifer and I spoke of our survival with cancer. Jennifer is still undergoing chemotherapy and has an indescribable passion about life and helping other women facing breast cancer. I listened as she recounted her story and the traumatic experiences, like losing her hair. She and I both agreed that losing our long, beautiful hair was one of the most difficult parts of the journey. We were planning our hairstyles while we grow our locks back out and discussing how many years we think it will take to get it back to the length it was pre-cancer. We thought three to four years seemed about right.

Jennifer and I had only spoken over e-mail and this was the first time we had met face-to-face. After a lunch that lasted over four hours, we were old friends. We talked about the most personal of topics, including intimacy after a mastectomy, weight gain from steroids (holy bloating!) and even our inner most fears about the cancer returning. (I even give myself daily breast exams even though I know I don't have breasts anymore.) However, our conversation wasn't all consumed with the horrible aspects of our cancer. Instead we continued to say, "Cancer is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

I know, it seems like such a strange sentiment, but with all my heart, it's true. Jennifer spoke about how she would drive in the car with her children while on the phone with her friends. She realized that no one was getting 100% of Jennifer's time. This disease has afforded her the opportunity to re-evaluate her life and put her priorities back into place. She is more present in the moment. She believes that cancer has made her a better daughter, mother, wife and friend.

I shared with Jennifer that I have taken a step back and really looked at my life. What do I want? I feel as though I have been given another opportunity at living my life and I am so excited about what's to come. I still have so much growth work, but who doesn't? Instead of following a timeline set by society, I am taking the yellow brick road less traveled (thanks Jana) and enjoying my journey … wherever it may lead. I have never felt more centered in who I am and what I deserve. I am genuinely happy.

My journey is far from over and just because my reconstruction ends in February/March it doesn't mean that cancer is no longer a part of my story. The depths of winter have unveiled an invincible summer that will guide me in helping other women who face this same journey. Because like Jennifer, I can show them that cancer can be the best thing to happen to them, too.

2/2/2008: Becoming a Survivor

I woke up this morning and realized that some how, some way, I have completely changed. I don't know how it happened, but I have never felt this strong in my entire life. The anxiety of the whole situation remains, but my heart and soul feel ... almost renewed. Is that possible? Hopefully this is not just a one day thing. I found myself singing in the car at the top of my lungs and smiling randomly at the small beauties of the day. Weird how that works ... maybe I am just appreciating things more. I finally have a reason to stop and smell the roses along the way. Perhaps this is a sign that I need to slow down and be more appreciative of the little things in my life. Who knows.

I heard so many wonderful things this week. Patty's neighbor said the most incredible thing "the moment she was diagnosed, she became a survivor". My co-worker of seven years told me that I am a first class woman and that he doesn't know of anyone stronger than I am. He said life constantly will push and pull and you either crumble like a piece of coal beneath the pressure, or you come out as a beautiful diamond like I always do. Gotta love creative people and their analogies. These words, and many others have touched me deeply and I realize how grateful I am for all the amazing people in my life. I am, without a doubt, one lucky girl.

I don't know why I wrote this. I suppose it is like a journal for me. Some people wrap themselves in a cocoon when they are suffering and I know that will only make things worse in my case. I have to express my feelings and feel like I am somehow understood. Please know how thankful I am for the love and support and that I am ready for whatever life throws at me next.