My Wigs

Tonight I packed up my wigs.

There is another mommy who began her battle against breast cancer about the same time I finished my chemotherapy treatments.  I hope that they give her the same confidence that they gave me.  I didn't realize how emotionally attached I was to them, to their presence in our room until I began packing them up.  For over a year the top of my dresser has been adorned with an assortment of wigs, scarves, and bandages for all of my wounds.  Tonight I packed them away after not having worn them for months.  It was sad, and scary, and overwhelmingly liberating.  I don't think I every expected this part of the journey to be laced with such uncertainty amidst the joy of normalcy.

I couldn't pack them up without playing with them one more time.  This one was my favorite, it was the one that the kids picked out that looked the most like me, before.

I haven't updated in awhile, and there has been sooooo much happening. I have been enjoying every single second of this glorious summer and have not sat down to put it all into words.

We have been going down to the Rivah, otherwise known as the River, every weekend since Labor Day.  It has been good for my soul.  There is a magic that physically occurs within my body when I turn off of Rt. 17, and know that I am minutes away from paradise.  My grandfather built the house that we stay in with his own two hands, I get to prepare meals in the same kitchen that my grandmother did, we enjoy the same yard that my mother and her siblings did when they were young.  It is so healing to be there, to see my children enjoying the beauty of the River, and making friends there.  It is truly heaven.




In between trips to the River I have had several doctors appointments, and received some pretty incredible news:)

During early August I had terrible pain in my toe, and I have to be honest that I was convinced that it was an infection from the River.  I have been diligent in not getting in the water past my toes - and then I got intense pain IN MY TOES.  My big toe specifically.  I was totally freaked out and went to the podiatrist to have it examined.  He quickly diagnosed it as an ingrown toenail and offered to cut it off and use some kind of concoction so it would not grow back. I politely declined and settled on just having it cut down.  He explained that with as many times as my nails fell off during treatment I could expect to have more than a few ingrown nails in my future.  I also learned that my other toenails that have been growing in so strangely will likely continue that way.  They are yucky, I didn't know how good I had it until my whole body began to change with the effects from chemo.  I am glad that I now know what it is and how to remedy the pain, and what to expect from my nails.

The next day I had an MRI to make sure that all of the cancer was gone from my breast.  I have been begging for this MRI for months and was so excited to have it scheduled that I forgot what actually getting one is like.  It is pretty intimidating.  I've had so many surgeries that I didn't even know how to answer some of the questions on the questionnaire. It was humbling.

I was quickly whisked away to a room to prep for the MRI. They had to examine my breasts and draw a road map of them. I was again humbled and frustrated, the DIEP surgery that I chose to reconstruct my breasts is not very common so medical professionals typically have tons of questions about the procedure and scars.  The nurses and tech were extremely kind.  They started my IV and loaded me into the machine.  I am a little claustrophobic, and they told me that if I needed to stop to squeeze the ball they gave me, but reminded me that if I stopped - or moved we would need to start again on another day.  I can read between the lines pretty well, so I knew what that meant - stay still!  They were kind enough to give me a pair of headphones set to easy listening music.  I tried to calculate in my head how many songs I had listened to to gauge how long (or how much longer) I would need to stay in the MRI machine.  I think it was about thirty minutes into the procedure that I began to feel uncomfortable, and if I am being honest a little afraid.  Sitting in the whirring silence for that amount of time gives you lots of time to reflect and ponder the future.  About the same time that I felt my mind beginning to spin into some dark places I felt a hand on my shoulder.  A sudden and overwhelming peace came over me.  I am not sure which of my angels came to visit me in that MRI machine, but I am thankful for another sign from God.

When the test was finally over I was sore.  It is not at all comfortable to get loaded into the machine and then lay still for close to an hour. The staff was again extremely kind as they took out my IV.  They explained that because the tissue on my breasts in stomach tissue, and no longer breast tissue the results would likely take longer to come back than normal.  I smiled, and thanked them. I had fully expected would be the case.

The very next morning around 10am I received the most beautiful news from my breast surgeon.  She sent me a text that simply read, "MRI is perfect."   There are not words to explain what reading those words feels like.  It was joyous and beautiful.

That Friday my best friend, Jessika, came with me to have the spots of necrosis removed from my stomach incision.  They had been bothering me for months, and were beginning to protrude awkwardly from my body.  My surgeon has explained to me that he would remove them under local anesthesia.  This means that for the first time since this journey began I was awake during a surgery.  It was so strange.  I have very limited feeling from my breasts to my pelvic bone anyway, with the added numbness it was a very awkward feeling.  I could hear the cutting, and feel a pulling sensation, but no pain.  When he was finished it was actually three spots of necrosis, and not the two that I had thought.  He asked it I wanted to see them (uggh, duh - of course I did).  I was surprised that they were not at all what my mind had conjured.  Necrosis means dead, or deadened.  I imagined that they would be black, brown and gross.  They weren't at all, instead they were light in color, almost white, and reminded me of tiny, toy brains.

The rest of August has been a whirlwind of beautiful adventures, doctors appointments, and occasional meetings.  I am so incredibly lucky to have the love of so many, and to have such a wonderful support system of family and friends.  As I get ready to head back to work next week I am sad that our summer is coming to a close, but so desperately excited about what adventures this year will bring.

The kids have accompanied me to so many doctors appointments that pretending to work for a doctor has become a part of their everyday play.  Here is Elayna at her check in for the cancer doctor.  I think she did a great job of decorating.  She even made a pen with a flower on the end :)

Thank you all for your continued love and support.  I am so thankful for all of you.  Please continue to share the importance of early detection, it saves lives.  It saved mine.

#fightlikeamommy

tommorrow

This week has been surreal.  Today has been breathtaking, I can only imagine what tomorrow will bring.

Tomorrow is chemotherapy treatment number 17 - it is my last one.  After tomorrow my body will be able to begin to heal itself, after tomorrow I will be on my way to being me again.  I still have two surgeries in my near future, and with them the fear of my hives returning (although I am sad to say that they have never actually fully subsided, they are currently controllable).

I read somewhere that it takes six months per treatment for the poison to rid itself from your body.  I have no idea if that is true or not, but it gives me peace.  I know that is a strange thing to say, but for as excited as I am to no longer have to receive chemotherapy treatments, I am also super fearful of no longer having the super strong medicine/poison running through my veins.  In a large part that is why I never truly feared my treatments. I thought of them as a beautiful magical potion, working its way through my body to kill all that nasty cancer.

This week has brought tears to my eyes so many times.

My beautiful and dear friend, Beth Ann, has been instrumental throughout my treatments.  She and her husband have provided us with so much nourishment, both spiritual and literal.  Beth was responsible for the lovely pictures that were taken when David and I renewed our vows at our ten year anniversary.  She brought us countless dinners when I was truly at my very sickest.  How she knew, intuitively, that I was so sick I will never ever know, but I am so thankful.  She is also the one who helped me find my dress for tomorrow.  Not only did she find it, she arranged for Puritan Cleaners to alter and dry clean it for me- for free.

I have to take a minute to truly thank the staff of Puritan Cleaners.  Marco and Gerry have been unbelievably kind.  If you have ever met me outside of work, you know that I am almost always accompanied by my two sidekicks.  I fretted over taking them to my dress fittings.  Gerry was amazing with them, she gave them snacks and indulged them in conversation as I dressed and undressed, even as she pinned and planned the alterations.  I am forever grateful for her kindness.  Marco was also so kind, and wanted to hear my whole story. I love to spread the importance of early detection whenever I can.  If you ever need a dry cleaner or alterations, you need to look no further than Puritan Cleaners.  I am officially their biggest fan.

The kids have been in Vacation Bible School all week.  This is extremely significant, because the week that I was diagnosed with breast cancer they were also in vacation bible school.  God has a way of weaving himself so intricately in my life when I need him the very most.

This week my babies have been learning about God Sightings. God Sightings are when you see God in your every day life.  Each student in VBS has the opportunity to give his or her example and write it on a lantern to go in the Bat Cave at church.  Before they are hung, the leader reads all of them aloud during the closing ceremony.

She saved Tommy's for last.  It made her cry, it made me cry, I saw several adults and children with their eyes brimming with tears. Tommy wrote, "My God Sighting is that my mommy has her last chemotherapy treatment tomorrow."  A simply written, poignant statement from my eight year old son.

It was a spectacular moment.  Seconds later my dear, sweet friend, Renee handed me a shirt for Tommy.  It says, "Tuff Guys Wear Pink."  Renee is also the creator of my beautiful new "Princess Warrior, Fight Like a Mommy"  lanyards.

In true Tommy fashion he slipped it over his head the second he received it. You may remember that he also did that with the "Bald Chicks Rock Shirt" that Mr. Roger gave him when this journey began.

Tomorrow will be beautiful, and emotional, and terrifying.  I want to thank all of you who have supported me, all of you who have prayed for me and my family, all of you who have provided us with nourishment, all of you who have made me laugh - or made my babies or my husband laugh. All of you who have supported us financially during this year.  Thank you for loving me, for holding my hand both figuratively or literally.  Thank you for the hugs, now that I can give them I cannot possibly ever get enough.  Thank you for the messages, letters, texts, phone calls, smiles, and well wishes.  Thank you for telling me that sharing my story has influenced or inspired you.

On my way to my first chemotherapy treatment.

If you have the time to come by and spend some time with me tomorrow please know how much that means to me.  If you cannot be there I totally understand.  It is my hope that we will brighten the day of others going through the ugliness of cancer.  Please remember that there will be patients there in all stages of treatment.  I want to do everything we can to respect and celebrate them while I am ending this stage of my treatment.

Tomorrow is not the end of the journey.  I still have at least two surgeries, and a lifetime of fretting. It is however, the end of a chapter.  I will no longer smell of poison for a few days every three weeks.

I am eternally grateful for all of you for your love, support, hopeful thoughts, and prayers.

This morning my Time-hop reminded me of a truly beautiful time last year.  At this point last year,  I knew that something was going on.  My lump was still present, I had pressed on it so many times that it was sore, and slightly swollen. I hadn't spoken a word about it to anyone except David, but the fear of what it could be gripped me every minute of the day.  I had an appointment scheduled for the following week to see if my fears amounted to anything and I was determined to make every single second of summer count.

We had the most magical day with two of my best friends, Autumn and MC.  I will never ever forget that day.  The warmth of the sun, the adorable animals, and fantastic company.  It was then that I knew that no matter what, with the love and support of my friends and family I would be ok.  In the weeks and months following my diagnosis I leaned heavily on these two remarkable friends.  They provided me safety and comfort in a way that is hard to put words to.  There is a magic to a friendship that does not need words to convey a feeling or a need.



It always takes my breath away when I get a message or a text that shows that you know what I am feeling, without me having ever having expressed it.  You all give me so much strength, and I truly love you for it.


#itisstillmyfairytale
#fightlikeamommy