I’ve had a bit of work this fall. Very grateful to be able to stretch myself creatively.
This talented singer is Rebecca Jordan. Check out her music!
It’s been a hectic year and I have already vowed to do better in 2012! For more info as to why my writing has been sparse, check out my personal blog.
Yesterday one of my friends compared Tamoxifen to Liquid Drano running through the body. That’s a great way to put it.
This week was overwhelming in terms of emotional and physical stress. I won’t go into all the details, but there have been people lost to people I care about, year-end work stress, personal stress, and physical stress. I was so tired Thursday that I fell up the stairs when I got home. I was so tired I could hardly lift my feet. I haven’t been that tired in a long time. My friend Jene’ calls it TBT – Tired Beyond Tired.
I’d like to blame Tamoxifen for being so tired, but I can’t entirely. The stress isn’t helping. I sometimes feel like I’m walking on a train track and at some point there’s going to be a big train steaming toward me and I won’t be able to get out of the way. What frightens me is that I feel a bit ambivalent about it.
I have better days since I’ve been on the Equalizer. Trouble is, my body is still adjusting to the pharmaceutical cocktail that keeps me going. My brain still isn’t back on track. There are days I feel like my brain is in a thick fog. Other days I am so tired I can’t think. I want to be able to attend everything to which I’m invited, but most of the time I end up at home exhausted.
Exhausted and FRUSTRATED.
I was encouraged by many people yesterday and today, in person and online. Words are such a powerful medium in my life that to receive them in such a way from people I love gave me some much needed energy. I need to keep moving forward, even if I feel like I’m crawling.
I have three short work weeks in a row, and that will help. I have some goal reassessment to do and a plan to execute. I want my photography and writing to improve and grow and even if my body can’t keep up, I will make sure my mind will.
Right now, I have to give my permission to be Sassy, who is on Tamoxifen, and be whomever that happens to be. I need to embrace what is…and take back control of what will be, meds or not.
Thanks again for of the encouragement!
1. I am an AMAZING multi-tasker. Seriously. I impressed my own socks off today (but I put them right back on because it’s COLD).
2. I still have issues handling stupid even with happy pills, but lives have been saved because of them.
3. I still hate Xfinity, but it’s my only option right now. If my cable box gives me the “not authorized” message for a channel I pay for again though I may have to teach the box a lesson.
4. Running the space heater in the bathroom to warm it up is ok. When the space heater flips on while the hair dryer is on it is not ok.
5. I now know where my breaker box is.
6. “Feliz Navidad” is the only Spanish song gringos know how to sing for Christmas. (Michael Buble Special) He gets one of the best-selling Spanish singers in the world up on stage and they sing… “Feliz Navidad.”
7. I have a black belt in Sassy Kwon Do.
8. I am behind on Advent candle burning.
9. I miss music. I need to sing more.
10. I can produce glowing embers on my stove. Darn that potato, the skillet escapee!
I am a breast cancer survivor. Still, after all these months that feels so weird to say/type. I am reminded every day, however, that conquering breast cancer is the first step and that there are still many steps on the road to survival.
I have been collecting breast cancer conquering “trophies,” if you will. I have my Survivor t-shirt from the Komen Walk in October and several bracelets. In early November, I walked into Kirkland’s and found the pictured ornament and knew it should find a place of honor on my Christmas tree.
I’m still not a big fan of pink, but this ornament really jumped out of all the others and I knew I had to have it. I am a survivor and I’m grateful and I’m happy to be able to hang a trophy of honor on my Christmas tree.
My yearly post of Christmas decor. I’m pleased to see my photos have improved over the years.
I have a yearly tradition of taking photos of my Christmas tree and ornaments. It’s a way of documenting the holidays and seeing how much my photos improve from year to year.
It’s been a rough year for me emotionally and physically, so as I cruise into Advent on autopilot, it’s nice to see I see have some creativity left in me.
It’s been a little over three months since my treatments ended, and almost three months since I’ve been on Tamoxifen. It’s been a roller coaster ride for sure.
I have a love/hate relationship with Tamoxifen. I love that it has the potential to keep breast cancer from ever coming back, but I hate how I feel about 10 days a month. Of course, it’s hormone related and it’s brutal. For most of the month I have good days. My energy is increasing and I feel better in general. Then, HELL WEEK starts.
PMS has gone from a two day annoyance to an all out war with my hormones. During HELL WEEK I alternately want to tear phone books in half and smite people (my tolerance for stupid and the judgmental is non-existent) or I want to crawl into bed with a box of tissues and cry myself to sleep, or cry reading the news, or while watching football, or sob during Happy Feet commercials.
Tamoxifen intensifies anything I ever experienced related to my cycle, but it’s only been a few years that I’ve had anything remotely intense. When I was in college, I never got PMS of any kind while my friends had cramps and crying and mild/or violent mood swings. I was so oblivious to what other women endured that M (who shall remain nameless because she might not remember she did this) put a curse on my children that they be born breech so I’d at least be able to commiserate with some pain related to my female reproductive parts.
HELL WEEK got so bad last month I almost stopped functioning completely. I was nearly hysterical one night because I couldn’t stop crying (for no reason). I wrote an email to one of my closest friends stating: Is it bad that I hate the way Tamoxifen makes me feel so much that I don’t want to take it anymore and I’d rather take my chances with cancer?
I was serious.
My oncologist, upon hearing this news, was not amused, especially when I added that if we couldn’t at least get HELL WEEK reduced to annoying but manageable days, then she would have to force feed me Tamoxifen once a day and write me a note to work at home those days and pay someone to sit with me to make sure I didn’t cry all day and bankrupt myself on QVC or the internet buying things that made me smile through my tears.
I guess I made my point, because I have another prescription for some medical equalizers that should help HELL WEEK go away. I will have to wait a week or so to feel any different, the doctor said, but HELL WEEK should lessen and if the prescribed medical equalizer didn’t work, we’d keep trying until we found something that would work.
It’s been really wonderful to have a team of doctors (there are five of them now) who are working so hard so that I will not only survive, but thrive.
The biggest issue I’m having is how limited I now feel. All of the doctors have told me that I can no longer burn the candle at both ends as I’m accustomed. If I get overwhelmed and stressed, I can’t push through, I have to STOP and relax. I can no longer dig deep and pull all nighters like I used to, nor can I keep up the wicked pace I sometimes force upon myself so that I don’t miss a moment of any event, day or breath. If I didn’t have to sleep, I wouldn’t. There’s so much to see and do in life.
I told my team of doctors (I’ve had 5 doc appts this week) that I am not handling losing my Superwoman cape very well. I am no longer “invincible.” I am no longer the queen of multi-tasking, and sometimes I say some words and mean others. I tire easily. My joints and muscles hurt (thanks Tamoxifen) and my clumsy moments are multiplying. My eyes are not as reliable as they used to be, and working around that limitation as a photographer is frustrating and frightening.
I have done some rather stupid things that if I was clear-minded I would never do. I get confused. I feel like I’m walking through life in slow motion or in a thick fog. I don’t feel like I’m the best version of myself right now, and I have fought long and hard to break out of my prison of mediocrity.
People forget that the fight against cancer doesn’t end for a patient when they stop chemo or radiation. Years lie ahead, years filled with other medications and an endless stream of doctor’s appointments. Life is forever altered. The old life can never be regained completely.
Women have to learn to continue to be Superwomen without their capes.
I’m sure it can be done. I see examples of it every day. I think the ones that make the transition learn to let go of their old lives and fully embrace the new, even with all of its meds, new diet and challenges.
Yes, I’ve lost my cape. I think it’s at the bottom of a Tamoxifen bottle. Regardless of where it is, the cape is out of my reach. Instead of chasing what was, I will live with what is, and invest in the what can yet be. My life was more than the cape anyway.
After a crazy and amazing weekend with my favorite Walkers in San Antonio feeding giraffes at Hank & Kelsey’s wedding at the Serengeti Resort, and eating on the River Walk at the Naked Iguna and other fun things in between, I was happy to have Monday off (Columbus Day).
I’ve needed a more reliable vehicle for some time, and have been seriously shopping for a year. After this summer’s battle with breast cancer ate my down payment for a car, I put off shopping until next year.
I typically set my standards high, but seem to shoot low, or settle. It’s a struggle for me to treat myself to something I want rather than the bare minimum or what I need. I either don’t feel worthy to treat myself or I fear my penniless retirement.
For the past three years, I’ve tried to combat this settle/shoot low trend in my life. I live in the apartment I wanted, in the area I wanted, with the features I wanted (my allergies love these laminate floors). I have real furniture now. I treat myself to a pedicure now and then.
My brother, Scott, who had accumulated just about everything he wanted by age 35, died at age 35. Before he died, we talked about the mystical Land of Retirement – the time period that most Americans dream of – being able to leave the work world behind and play golf every day they aren’t on a plane to their vineyard cottage in France or at the very least, Florida.
Scott told me that I needed to find the balance between saving everything for a day I might not live to see, and not arriving at the Land of Retirment unable to care for myself. He called it the “Retire as You Go,” plan. I assured him that I understood, but I really didn’t.
I continued living on a shoestring budget (but I was highly underemployed) with a really messed up view of money. I’m still paying for my formerly messed up view of money, but I’m almost finished with that pennance. I’m not rich, but my needs are met.
I was thinking about my brother the other day and his, “Retire as You Go,” plan. After my own battle with cancer this summer, and my mediocre earning potential, I realized that I may not be one of the lucky few who truly gets to retire in the style to which they would like to become accustomed.
I also realized that I will probably work until the day I die, so the “Retire as You Go,” plan now seemed reasonable. Retire as You Go = enjoy the journey to the grave.
Before anyone throws their 401K rhetoric at me, I’m not saying not to save for retirement. I’m just saying that living for this mystical day in the far off future and not living life to the fullest now is not the way I want to live my life.
Not anymore. I’ve learned the hard way that life can end in a flash, or even a slowly fading ember, even for people who are young and full of life, even for people who plan to retire…someday.
Now back to car shopping. I’ve only had four cars in 26 years. All used. All old and full of suprises like the water pump pulley shearing off in the middle of rush hour. All of the cars were phone calls to Lynn at the Car Clinic Hotline waiting to happen.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for all these cars. I just knew I didn’t want another used car, someone else’s mess of surprises.
I scoured car websites and priced their cheapest cars and still couldn’t find anything I thought I could or should afford. Still, I felt it was time to start test-driving some cars so I could decide which one I’d buy. Nevermind that I didn’t really want any of these cars. They were just cars I might be able to afford.
I have always liked the Volkswagen Beetle. I’ve often thought about getting one, but never had the funds or the guts to drive it (very girly car!). When I saw the photos of the new model this summer, I really liked it. It was less girly, more sporty. It fit my personality. I did my research and I decided, if I could, that’s really the car I wanted.
I woke up Monday with my brother’s words ringing in my ears. “Do what you want for a change.” I decided then, to go test drive the brand new Volkswagen Beetle. Just test drive.
I had no intentions of buying a car, especially after the dealer slid an impossible number across the table on a sheet of paper. I had no money down, nothing of value to trade in, and I had priced the car online, so this number was not a surprise. I simply wanted to see what the impossible number was, then go to another dealership to test drive a suitcase on four wheels. I just wanted the experience of driving the car I wanted before I had to settle for what reality would allow.
I looked at the impossible number, then back at the dealer. “I cannot do it, unless it’s below this number,” and I told him what payment I could make. He stared at me a moment and I smiled confidently. I was totally prepared to walk away without the Beetle and he knew it. He came back with a couple more numbers, less laughable than the impossible number, but still not below my max number.
After an hour’s worth of wrangling, this man found me a way to drive a new 2012 Beetle on terms I could live with and still eat and have gas to drive it. In fact, it was a team effort. I spoke with several of the people there, picking apart the warranty and features. After we were finished I felt like I’d just arm wrestled my little brother over a pile of Oreos, and if you know my little brother, your arm already feels tired on my behalf.
I sat there a little numb yet about to explode from excitement. I, Sassy, had just purchased my first car, and it was BRAND NEW! When I activated my insurance (which went up very little) the very nice lady on the other end of the line said that the car was so new the VIN numbers hadn’t even hit the database.
The 2012 Beetle is 20 years newer than my last vehicle. Needless to say the gizmos on the dash have advanced quite a bit since the early nineties. I have had to read the manual just to be able to figure out everything this car can do and what all the knobs are for. I can make phone calls through my radio. It does not have GPS or Sirius Satellite or OnStar or any of those bells and whistles, but it does have heated seats (last car had no heat) and a stereo I just finished learning how to use this afternoon. It also has an alarm and one of those keyless entry fobs that beeps when the car is locked.
I went over to Mrs. Walker’s house and took her for a spin around the block and she rejoiced with me. Not only do I have reliable transportation, I am driving a vehicle I actually wanted. And, Mrs. Walker is pretty sure Mr. Walker will fit in the back seat when we go places.
What’s been really fun is watching so many people at work look at the car and tell me they like it, and even more so that “nobody deserves a new ride like you do,” because they’ve seen my two-hubcap deathtrap every morning for the last four years, and seen me roll down my window to let myself out of it.
The best compliment so far was when one of my Danish co-workers said, “A man could drive this Beetle.”
Strangers ask me about the car when I get out of it. People have pulled up beside me in traffic and gawked at my car. I drive through a parking lot and men turn and stare at the car. I’m not a guy who went out and bought a corvette or camaro so other guys would think he was cool for having a cool but impractical car. I do get that appeal now, though, but I just got the car I wanted.
And that was ok.
I decided to name the car, Serenity. Not only was it a ship on a really cool Sci-Fi show that had all sorts of personality and character, it’s a name that describes how I feel when I’m driving the car. I feel Serenity with my choice and my new direction. I also have experienced “fahrvergnugen” first hand (driving pleasure) and know I made a good choice in the vehicle I hope to be driving for the next few years.
My old car, Wynne Dory, is being given to someone who desperately needs a vehicle. I’m thrilled to be able to pay her forward while she still has some miles left in her. I’ve been trying to write down her “quirks” (like having to roll down the window to use the door latch to get out) on a 3×5 card but I’m sure she will figure out most of WD’s idiosyncrasies on her own.
Jene’ very graciously picked me up this morning at 6:45. Anyone who knows me is aware that mornings are a struggle and my uncoordination is amplified by trying to do anything complicated before 9 AM. I have learned, however, I could get anywhere by 7 AM and function if I had a chauffeur.
Though I registered before the deadline, my registration packed did not arrive (and still hasn’t) so Jene’ let me out to go get my t-shirt and bib number (and hers) while she tried to park. After a half hour, we finally found each other again and started to walk toward the start line.
Jene’ had hoped to meet up with her friend Stacy from The Container Store. We walked toward the start line and still hadn’t found her. If you know Jene’, you know that she can walk into an ice cream store in South Carolina, strike up a conversation with a person and in no time, find that they either know mutual people or know each other. We call it Six Degrees of Jene’.
Find it no surprise, then, in the midst of nearly 40,000 people, Jene’ found Stacy.
The walk started late, and the sea of humanity moved slowly toward the start line. Because we were walking so slowly, I was able to get some shots of how people celebrated the race with costumes and t-shirts. Yes, the photographer carried her camera over three miles. I carry the camera every day and I hardly notice it. Besides, I wouldn’t have gotten shots like these with my phone’s camera.
This is the sea of humanity as we walked under the Montrose Bridge. It was an amazing sight to see all of these people walking for a cause, a mother, a sister, a grandmother, a friend.
This man held this sign up for nearly the duration of the race. I am going to assume it was his wife. I know many people walked for people they’ve lost and saw many “in memory” tags on people.
All along the route were organizations and volunteers cheering people as they walked. At one point there were several that were cheering directly to me, a survivor. I almost started crying but managed to not let my emotions get the best of me. I know I still haven’t fully wrapped my brain around what happened to me this summer. I think I’m still numb and still trying to decipher what getting and surviving breast cancer means to me personally. I know what breast cancer has meant to me when it has involved people I love in my life, but I am still not sure what to think or feel about walking this road myself.
After crossing the finish line, I walked through an area specifically for survivors. They said your number of years as a survivor over loud speakers. Five, seven, twenty years… and I said four months (because I am using my surgery date as the day the cancer left me). As I walked along the line of people cheering at me and giving me high-fives, I almost choked up again.
I was given a carnation and then, after emerging from that line of people, I picked up a couple of things from Ford (I love their Warriors in Pink collection).
The newspaper said there were 2000 registered survivors of the 38,000 + registrants (I expect that number to climb because so many people signed up at the last minute and there were people walking without bib numbers). Again, seeing so many people walk in memory of someone and realizing how few survivors were walking in relation to how many people were registered hit me harder than I thought it would. Like I said, it’s still something I have to wrap my brain around.
Jene’ and I went to the car at 11:20. The 5K took over an hour because it was difficult to get to Jene’ speed (petite woman with a cane will walk your legs off!) because of how many people were trying to walk in the same space with children, strollers, wagons and people stopping in the middle of the street to take photos.
Jene’ had to go to work all day at The Container Store after she dropped me off. Jene’ walks more than a 5K when she works. I imagine her legs are a lot more tired than mine! I am grateful for her persistence in getting me to do the Komen walk this year!
I’ve been feeling better of late. Life is back to as normal as it gets for me. My new meds have left me nauseous and the dry air has kept my allergies irriated but I had wanted to get out and take some photos this weekend.
I went for a walk around the apartment complex to stay close and reconnect with the area around me.
My street was nice and quiet.
This photo illustrates just how desperately most of Texas needs rain. Trees are dying. Yards are drying up. Lakes, streams and ponds are so low.
I found a friend in a patch of flowers. The wind (leftovers from Tropical Storm Lee) was gusting so it made it difficult to get this guy to hold still.
This feather was so blue in the sun and I wanted to illustrate that.
I love taking photos of flowers and I love Lightroom presets.
I was amazed at how much trash litters the sides of the streets here. In the dry grass I found lighters, cigarette butts, napkins, a half eaten hotdog and several broken reflectors. I feel like doing a PSA for not littering and not starting fires in this dry grass with cigarette butts! People are careless. Way too careless.
I walked for about an hour and that felt good. No sunburn (I have my brain back so I remembered my sunscreen) but I’m still sneezing. I don’t know what’s in the air today (not moisture, that’s for sure). It was good to get out and take photos though. Hopefully this is the catalyst for things to come. Time to get snappin’!
Sassy Dreams Awake 