Today I had a delightful lunch out with my friend Karen. She and her husband are up from Jacksonville for a big photography conference at the Gaylord Opryland.

But today at lunch she broke some very sad news. Her friend Marie, who had been battling breast cancer for the past four years, died last week. Today was actually the memorial service.

Karen hadn’t wanted to tell me. I never even met her friend Marie, but she was an inspiration nonetheless. She wasn’t even supposed to live the last three years she did. But she kept setting goals for herself, and she willed herself to meet them. At least three times she’d been put on hospice and told she had less than six months. This time she willed herself to live to see the New Year, but that’s all she had left.

When I was first diagnosed last year, Karen told me all about her. She used her as an example of why it was so important to keep a positive attitude. Because it really could help.

It did. In two chemos my tumor shrunk from grapefruit-sized to golf ball-sized. Not all of that was my positive attitude. Much of that was because of the medicine and the astounding number of prayers.

But keeping hopeful, inspired, and motivated? I used Marie as a benchmark of how important that could be.

So Marie, I didn’t even know you, but you made a HUGE impact on me nonetheless. I know it was much too early for you to go. You’ve left behind a huge hole from what I know from Karen. Everyone who met you loved you. And from the sounds of it you had quite the family. I know their hearts are grieving. I hope you’ve found peace from the pain. That you suffered all you did for as long as you did…you were one tough cookie! But your will and grit, combined with your zest and optimism, have had an impact on reaches even further than you can imagine. Thank you for setting such an amazing example of how to live with cancer until your dying day.

Tomorrow I go in for a three month checkup. I haven’t been in since last October. This will be my first non-scan follow-up. (There will be blood work, and possibly a chest x-ray, but no CT scan.)

I hope I’m still doing fine. I feel good, but there’s always that niggling of “what if” now. Maybe it’ll go away one day. I don’t know. The trauma of all I’ve been through is still fresh.

But I am alive, and as long as I’m alive I will live each day like Marie did: bravely, with a smile, and above all a can-do attitude combined with a will of steel.

Rest in peace, Ms. Marie.

In Fat and Fine With It? I wrote about how I’ve been heavy for years now, even though I am physically active.

When I was going through chemo a neighbor stopped by with info about a healthy eating program. It was basically a raw vegan diet. She said she did it and it works for her. She’s never had cancer, nor has she ever had a weight problem.

I know she meant well, so I accepted the pamphlets and thanked her for stopping. However, I was a bit miffed.

She never asked what kind of cancer I had. She never asked what I ate. For all she knew I could have been a vegan who loved indulging in French fries too much!

And I don’t know if being overweight contributed to my cancer or not. Wayne likes to harp on me that it probably didn’t help and I need to take better care of myself in that respect. He may be right. And I do appreciate his concern.

However, from 2007 into 2008, especially 2008, I experienced some of the most intense stress I’d ever faced. It was all self-induced. I shouldn’t have let things get to me like I did.

Still, it happened. And I remember often feeling my blood. A few times I felt my heart hurt in ways I was sure was a sign I was about to have a heart attack. I also remember saying often that I was so stressed and upset it felt almost toxic. How I could feel my blood burning at some points.

I wasn’t all that surprised to learn lymphoma was a cancer of the blood. It made sense to me. I knew the feelings I’d had had been toxic! I’m convinced it was the stress that led to the cancer.

Which for me is why I place as much value on my mental health as I do my physical health. I even came up with the affirmation “Happy cells are healthy cells” to remind myself of this. I’m determined to never let myself feel that kind of stress ever again!

On this date last year Wayne came with me to the doctor for what would be my fourth visit in a month. At first it was because my cough wasn’t getting better, then it was because I was complaining of the ever-increasing pain in my shoulder, then it was because my left hand went numb.

She finally ordered a chest x-ray and a shoulder x-ray. Wayne took me over to the hospital to get them done. I could barely stand by then. The pain was incredible.

And that’s when I knew something bad was wrong.

After the chest x-ray, they did my shoulder. Then they came back to do some more of the chest. Then I was asked to wait while someone else came in to get some more info. Then they left and someone else came back to say the radiologist saw something suspicious and I needed to come with them to get a CT scan.

I also needed contrast, which meant a needle. That was my first time meeting Julie, one of the CT techs. I told her about how I get dizzy, then sweaty, they I feel like I’m going to throw up but end up having diarrhea a lot of times when needles are involved.

She said, “I won’t let that happen on my watch.”

And she didn’t. I made it through, no problems. I cried, but she just handed me some tissue and said, “Let it out. This is scary. But you will be fine. People are on it now.”

Then I was free to go home. They told me they’d send the results to my doctor who would then contact me.

It didn’t quite happen that way though.

But that’s for a post to come…

It’s not as bad as it used to be, nor does it happen as often, but I still have my freak-out days. The days when the fact I’ve had to deal with cancer weighs heavy on my mind. The days I don’t feel so hot and think, “It’s coming back!”

But I try to find ways to work through it. Sometimes finding peace and remembering not what cancer took from me, but what it gave, comes in unique forms.

Like my end of the year photo montage project. I’d found One True Media earlier in the year. I have Windows Movie Maker and could have used it to do the same thing OTM offers on their site, but they had neater graphics, transitions and effects. Plus music.

I had a blast picking my favorite images from this past year and putting them together in what I think turned out to be a really neat montage. One that showcases all the love I was surrounded with, all the fun I had, and why I always, but in particular this year, have a lot to smile about.

THE PORT COMES OUT

Today was a big day: I got my port out!

You only get the go ahead to do that when you’re done with treatments and all looks well. (As in there’s no reason to believe you’ll be needing anymore chemo any time soon.)

So, that’s a relief. I was worried about getting it out because when they put it in they ran the IV through my hand. I did not like that one bit.

Now, to be fair, that was also back during my needle freak out phobia phase. However, I’ve pretty much conquered that thanks to Chemo, my day-after-chemo belly shots, all the blood draws, IVs for CT scans…yeah, I don’t get that lightheaded-sweaty-tummy erupting-wanting to throw up-then having explosive diarrhea knee-jerk reaction I used to endure when faced with needles and shots. I’m past all that. I don’t even get myself stirred up days ahead of time thinking how I’ll have to do a blood draw or whatever.

But the thought of that IV in my hand again? Wasn’t sitting well with me. I have been thinking and worrying about how I can get myself through it.

Turns out, all I needed to do was ask if they could do the IV in my arm. There was no need to do it in my hand. Excellent.

Best of all Ken and Linda (he works in radiology and assisted with my lung biopsy, my port insertion, and today he did the removal; she’s the nurse anesthetists) were there. They are so nice and I feel completely comfortable with them. I was happy they got a chance to see me now. I first met them during my 5 day stay as I was learning I had cancer and was in that excruciating, debilitating pain. Then compared to now…I’m a very different person.

After the port was out, I saw images of my chest on screen. I asked if the blob I could see near my heart was what was left of my tumor. They call what’s left scar tissue. Yep, you can still see it.

Then I mentioned how I’d never even seen the other image. The one with the tumor.

“You want to see it? We can show you.”

I said I’d like to. I was absolutely stunned when I did.

THAT IS NOT GRAPEFRUIT-SIZED

The ER doc who admitted me to the hospital was the first one to describe my tumor as “grapefruit-sized.” So…that’s kind of the image I had and how I always described it to others.

I always thought it was kind of odd no one had ever shown me x-rays of my tumor. When I’d found the cyst in my breast they showed me that. But you know what? I think Spirit and my Angels had my best interest in mind.

My tumor was not the size or shape of a grapefruit. It was a mass that really had no shape. But it was the size of my lung…if my lung was all blown up and distorted. Basically, the entire left side of my chest was consumed with cancer.

It is a very good thing I didn’t see that image beforehand. I’m not sure I would have kept my positive spirit. I’m not sure I would have considered it a hitchhiker. I’m not sure I would have had all the optimism I had that I would be fine. Those times I felt hopeless and scared would definitely have been magnified. And a lot more prevalent.

I asked Wayne at dinner tonight, “Did you ever see it? Did anyone ever tell you maybe I shouldn’t see the x-ray? That it’d be better for my mental health if I didn’t?” (I’ve always had my suspicions about that, because every time I asked to see the x-rays there always seemed to be some excuse why I couldn’t right then.)

Anyway, Wayne kind of looked away and said, “No, but Dr. Thomas (she was the hospital doctor) did pull me aside and say it wasn’t good. That you had a very serious tumor, we had a rough road ahead of us and that you were going to need me more than ever. That my main job was going to be keeping you up to get you through it.”

I’m not sure he’s being entirely honest. I still think he saw it, knew how big it really was, but never told me to shelter me from it. If so, this is one of those times when I not only forgive him for lying to me, but love him for it.

Because in the end he did get me through it. And so did my doctors and nurses. And so did friends and loved ones and all their prayers. And so did Spirit and my Angels. They knew that seeing the x-rays back then would not have behooved me.

But finally seeing it today? Holy crumb. I feel absolutely humbled that the chemo, radiation and prayers all worked to shrink that mass and get me well again.

I always have a lot of be thankful for at Thanksgiving and the whole year through, but this year? Wow. Miracles top my list!

Today was a big day: I got my first haircut since chemo made it all fall out back in January.

I wouldn’t say my hair was getting long, but it was definitely long enough to be unruly. Something needed to be done about it. Trouble was, I didn’t know if anything could be done.

But I stopped into Great Clips this afternoon and asked. I was desperate. I felt like I had werewolf head! (That’s what I had taken to calling my wild, curly strands that were going in all directions.)

The stylist did what stylists do…she styled me up!

The sides are shorter now, the back is trimmed, and the top is more even. It still doesn’t look great. (I’m not a short haircut person. Never have been. I look better with long hair and prefer long hair.) However, this feels much better now and looks more tame. Woohoo!

She said now all I can do is just let it grow. Come back in two to four months for a style-touch up. Groovy!

I used the timer function on my camera to snap some photos of me with my new (very short again, but at least styled) do.

(The last one I snapped on a whim. I saw my reflection in my laptop screen and thought it looked cool, so…clickity click!)

do view 1

do view 2

do view 3