Posted in breast cancer, death, Suckuary

THE BEST DEATH?

This week, I came across this article reporting on a blog post in which a doctor stated that cancer is the best way to die and society should stop wasting money trying to cure it.

Of course, as a cancer survivor, I was livid. I couldn’t even come up with a way to describe how his words made me feel other than, “KMA – kiss my ass.”

As I read his blog post describing various ways to die, I still couldn’t form words to comment on it.  Doctor Luis Bunel compared various end of life ways people die and chose cancer over dementia, sudden death, and organ failure.  I understand he was contemplating ways to die and, at age 62, he may be closer to death than I am.  We all contemplate how we want to leave this world, that’s a normal part of life, especially after passing the invisible, perceived halfway point of typical life expectancy.

The point is, Doctor Bunel, none of us gets to choose how we leave this earth, or when, (though some do by taking their own lives).  By stating there’s a better way to die surely guarantees that won’t be how you get to the end of your line.  I do believe that our wishes really aren’t considered when it’s our time to die.  Death is an inevitability, sure. Being able to shove that inevitability back one more day is a gift.

I’ve buried way too many people I love because of cancer.  Each of them fought what Doctor Bunel would term the best way to die. They fought with their own strength, they fought with medicine, and they fought, most of all, to stay with the people who love them.

“An even more horrible death,” he wrote, “is one that’s kept at bay by the miracles of modern medicine, a death that never ends. In the name of Hippocrates, doctors have invented the most exquisite form of torture ever known to man: survival.”

One more day with my brother would be worth everything,  I guarantee you, doc, that I don’t think his parents, siblings, wife or kids would say otherwise.  If my brother thought what he was enduring was torture, I guarantee you, he would never have said a word. He fought until his last breath to remain with us and if it was torture, he was willing to take it. Every. Single. Day. For one more moment.

Survival does not equal torture. 

I know with my own cancer, I was nowhere near death.  I didn’t have major organs failing because they were being eaten away from the inside.  I am nearing four years cancer free, and while I do not see breast cancer making a comeback, I GUARANTEE you, Doctor Bunel, if it does, I will fight it with everything that is in me to do so. I will embrace the modern medicine, and if that one extra day is torture, I will celebrate it.

This morning, I saw on ESPN that Stuart Scott, a long time host of Sports Center, had passed away from cancer. His fight reminded me to never give up. He fought cancer for almost a decade. He FOUGHT it.  He left behind two daughters, two daughters that I’m sure he felt the alleged torture was worth.  Watching the tributes to him from his coworkers and friends brought me to tears.  He inspired them in many ways and he will be missed.

None of us knows exactly when or how we will die.  What we do with the time we have is important.  It is not a great sin to want to live longer despite our quality of life if we want to live.  Cancer treatment and research costing billions is not a cancer patient’s issue, it’s a larger issue of the greed and inefficiency of the healthcare system (that’s another post). Regardless of the cost, most people are not in a hurry to die, even if it’s painful, because most of us have something bigger than us to live for.

I’m still not completely calm about this article. I know it’s not personal, but yes, I took it very, very personally because the miracle of modern medicine let me have moments with my brother and mother that I wouldn’t have otherwise had.  I also a member of a family of cancer survivors who are still here, living full lives, because of the advances in medicines that fight cancer, all of whom would agree those billions of dollars spent on cancer research are not wasted.

Survival does not equal torture.  Not by a long shot.

Posted in Uncategorized

10 THINGS TO KNOW ABOUT CANCER SURVIVORS, ME IN PARTICULAR

I’ve been doing some Sunday reading today and came across this article by Dr. Lissa Rankin (@lissarankin) called 10 Things I Learned From People Who Survive Cancer As I read through it, I saw a lot of myself, a 3-year breast cancer survivor, in the list.

1.  Be unapologetically YOU.

People who survive cancer tend to get feisty. They walk around bald in shopping malls and roll their eyes if people look at them funny. They say what they think. They laugh often. They don’t make excuses. They wear purple muumuus when they want to.

I was on track for this part of my personality before breast cancer, but after I joined the rank of survivors, this became my unwritten mantra. I am who I am. If you don’t like it, there’s not much I can do about it, and I won’t come crying after you to get your approval. I don’t need it.

I may be “weird,” or “eccentric” or “unique” but I’m ME through and through.  I would not have it any other way.

2.  Don’t take crap from people. 

People who survive cancer stop trying to please everybody. They give up caring what everybody else thinks. If you might die in a year anyway (and every single one of us could), who gives a flip if your Great Aunt Gertrude is going to cut you out of her will unless you sell out your authenticity to stay in her good graces?

If you know me, then well, you know this is true.  What I’ve found is, the less crap I take from people, the less crap that lands at my doorstep.  It’s no fun for crap-slingers if you can easily deflect their crap.

I used to be the posterchild for People Pleasers. I am no longer that person. The freedom of being me and the freedom of not having to run myself ragged making other people happy has made me the best ME I can be.

I live my life authentically regardless of what everyone else thinks about it.

3.  Learn to say no.

People with cancer say no when they don’t feel like going to the gala. They avoid gatherings when they’d prefer to be alone. They don’t let themselves get pressured into doing things they really don’t want to do.

I brought back a “NO!” button from New Jersey that, when pressed, screams a series of obnoxious, “NO!”‘s. It isn’t that saying “NO!” is obnoxious but people often hear the word “no” as an obscenity because they aren’t getting what they want. Believe me, people who want you to say yes all the time don’t like hearing the definitive no.

I’ve had to say, “NO” quite a bit since my cancer treatments. Life is not the same for me.  Many of my likes and preferences of how to spend my time have changed.  I have new limits on my time and energy.  I will not apologize for being “selfish” with how I live my life.  I will protect my health and my time fiercely.

4.  Get angry, then get over it.

People who survive cancer get in your face. They question you. They feel their anger. They refuse to be doormats.  They demand respect. They feel it. Then they forgive. They let go. They surrender. They don’t stay upset. They release resentment. But they don’t stuff their feelings.

Yes, yes, and yes.  Grudges and resentment dissipate quickly with me now. Well, more quickly than it once did.  Forgiveness is freedom.

Do I get angry? YES, but I no longer stay upset. I don’t let idiots ruin my day, and sometimes my days are full of idiots. Happiness is a choice and I choose it, liberally.

I demand respect from others because I earn it, and because I am worthy of respect.  I carry myself as being worthy of anyone’s respect. If someone disrespects me, yes, I get pissed off, but I have to let it go. If someone does not respect me, it speaks volumes more about their character, and I do not live my life trying to fill the “They Like Me! They Really, Really Like Me!” column.

5.  Don’t obsess about beauty.

People who survive cancer no longer worry about whether they have perfect hair, whether their makeup looks spotless, or whether their boobs are perky enough. They’re happy just to have boobs (if they still do). They’re happy to be alive in their skin, even if it’s wrinkled.

I am extremely comfortable in my own skin. I’m only halfway through my weight loss goal, but I’m losing weight for my health, not because I want to be skinny or look a certain way. I’m 45 for goodness sake. I’m beyond the “dress to impress” stage of my life.

I’m toying with the idea of stopping coloring my hair. That may take a couple of years still, but it’s on my mind every time I go under the tin foil.  It’s not a beauty thing, it’s not an age thing.  My hair color is one of the last “constants” I have left, even if it is from a bottle.  Stay tuned.

6.  Do it now.

Stop deferring happiness. People who survive cancer realize that you can’t wait until you kick the bucket to do what you’re dying to do. Quit that soul-sucking job now. Leave that deadbeat husband. Prioritize joy. Live like you mean it—NOW.

I went to Maui this year on my vacation – it was on my bucket list.  I remember a conversation I had with my brother, who, at 35, lay in a hospital bed while leukemia slowly stole him from me.  He told me, in essence, to live from the bucket list rather than wait to fulfill it at some random point in the future.  The future, he’d said, may get cut short. I promised him I would, but it took my own cancer diagnosis to bring my life into laser focus and I polished off the bucket and I’m ticking things off the list.

7.  Say “I love you” often.

People who survive cancer leave no words left unspoken. You never know when your time is up. Don’t risk having someone you love not know it.

Whether it be, “I love you,” or “I appreciate you,” or “good job,” or “thank you,” or “that really pissed me off,” just say the darn words. You may not get another chance.  People might be inclined to say I leave very little unsaid these days.  I do not want to leave this world without people knowing exactly how I feel.

I’ve also learned the art of exactly what words to leave unspoken. At times, it is wiser to pull the barbs back into your head and let the wisdom of your silence speak instead.

8. Take care of your body.

People who survive cancer have a whole new appreciation for health. Those who haven’t been there may take it for granted. So stop smoking. Eat healthy. Drink in moderation. Maintain a healthy weight. Avoid toxic poisons. Get enough sleep. Above all else, prioritize self care.

Self care is not selfish. I know, more than anyone else around me, what I need to do to take care of myself. I don’t overdo much of anything with food or alcohol and I am trying to reduce my weight to reduce my recurrence of breast cancer risks.

I do, however, tend to push my boundaries with the pace I try to manage.  Sometimes I still feel invincible, but my body quickly reminds me I am not. I am more quick to retreat into self care than I ever have been even if some people do not understand why because their bodies are still strong and have been unaffected my major, life-changing health events.

9.  Prioritize freedom and live like you mean it.

People who survive cancer know that being a workaholic isn’t the answer. Money can’t buy health. Security doesn’t matter if you’re six feet under. Sixteen hours a day of being a stress monster is only going to make you sick. As Tim Ferriss writes in The 4-Hour Workweek, “Gold is getting old. The New Rich are those who abandon the deferred-life plan and create luxury lifestyles in the present using the currency of the New Rich: time and mobility.”

This one can still be a difficult one for me. I do work a lot, but I enjoy my work. I also leave work at work and I know how to disconnect from it.  I guard my weekends like a ruthless warlord.

10.  Take risks.

People who survive cancer have faced their fears and gotten to the other side.  They know life is for living because they almost lost it. True aliveness and real joy lie in taking risks. So go sky diving if you want. Bungee jump. Hang glide. Spend your savings.  Live like you might die tomorrow.

The word I used to live by was, “hope.” I have transitioned to the word, “FEARLESS.”  Yes, I still have fears, but I face them, head on, and I try new things all the time. New foods. New styles of clothes. New music. New activities.  New languages.

What’s the worst that could happen? I fail? I have found that failure isn’t that big of a deal – it’s part of the process.  I fall down? I get dirty? I get bruised? Cut? Embarrassed? SO WHAT. I still wake up the next day and from that failure I know I’ve learned something or know it is a stepping stone to something better.

What if the worst doesn’t happen?  What if I succeed?  What if I learn something new? What if I get to do something I’d never dreamed I’d get to do? What if eating jellyfish wasn’t all that gross and was actually good?

Fearless is a much better way for me to live.

I challenge you to live as if you have been given the best gift you could have ever received – a second chance. You might not get a third.

Posted in Uncategorized

MORE THOUGHTS POST-KOMEN

On the MetroRail back to Hermann Park, I sat next to a group of nurses who worked for the doctor who gave me the news that I had breast cancer. I remembered how she told me that everything was going to be fine, that I was going to survive this, though I was crying and wondering, “why me?”

I told the nurse the short version of this story, and to tell Doctor N that she was right and that I was grateful for how she handled the most difficult and darkest diagnosis of my life.  

She and her fellow nurses cheered. They love their boss and she was forever a part of my breast cancer story.

Posted in breast cancer, Uncategorized

THE KOMEN WALK 2013

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Today, I walked my second full Komen for the Cure event in Houston with my co-workers and friends. The day started early, before dawn. Anyone who knows me knows I am dedicated to something to get up that early!

As a breast cancer survivor, the Komen Walk has a different meaning for me than others that participate in this event. Others walk for people they lost to breast cancer, to support the cause, or just to participate.  For me, the Komen Walk is a way to celebrate my cancer’s demise and the effort of rising up afterward and moving forward.

As the thousands gather at the starting line to walk, they are excited to get moving and tackle that 5K.  Some are somber as they remember those they’ve lost, the ones they are there to honor.  Today, I was reflective of how far I’ve come and the people I was there to represent (see above photo).

The walk was a bit more challenging for me than I thought it would be. I’ve lost almost 50 pounds, I am working out and I prepared by hydrating this morning and eating a power bar. I was ready. I do as much cardio in the pool each week. After completing the second mile, however, my legs were like jello and I was running out of steam.

Our pack of walkers had spread out and I was lagging behind, trying to keep a steady pace.  The sun was hot, and the temps were climbing into the 90’s.  Hydrating with such a small stomach is a new challenge.  I am grateful Dora and Glenda slowed down a bit and kept me going.

Along the route, I was greeted by several volunteers to cheer me on as well. I tried, as much as possible, to thank those volunteers for coming out and doing something so important. Encouragement is so needed during an event like this. Whenever the volunteers heard the words, “thank you,” they seemed to perk up a bit. They were out in the hot sun with us, too.

A lady ran up behind me and saw the sign I was wearing that said, “Beating cancer runs in my family.” She said she’d buried 7 family members from breast cancer and if she got it, she knew her fate. I started to ask her if she’d had the BRCA gene test but she jogged off, alone.  Another pair of ladies in front of me wore a photo from 2011’s walk with their friend JoJo, who died last summer. This is what breast cancer does. This is what breast cancer is.  Breast cancer robs people of loved ones and friends.

When I reached the Survivor’s Row, where they called my name and how long I’ve been a survivor, I was so grateful I’d made this journey again. After our group dispersed Reagan and I went to the Survivor’s Celebration so I could pick up my Survivor’s Flag and some swag.

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By the time I got home and soaked in a hot tub, I was exhausted! I am so grateful I had this experience again and it is truly different every time!

ImageThis is me after the race as we went to lunch. I am as tired as I look in this photo, but very happy with where my journey has brought me. I am a woman on a mission. Breast cancer didn’t defeat me, and every day I’m grateful and more determined to live life to its fullest!

Though this particular work event was not about me, I am so grateful to have had a team to walk with this year! Thank you MAN Diesel & Turbo for allowing this and for Alejandra Bohorquez for putting the team together!

Posted in Uncategorized

SUPPORT THE “LADIES!”

On October 5th, I will join a team of my co-workers, their family and friends in the Komen Walk/Race for the Cure.  As a breast cancer survivor, I am eager to walk the 5K and thrilled to have so many people I know participate. 

I work for MAN Diesel & Turbo, known around the world for making, servicing and repairing diesel engines of all sizes.  Our current slogan is “We are your MAN!” Our team slogan is, “We support the Ladies.” Very playful and tasteful. I cannot wait to wear the shirt!

As someone personally affected by breast cancer, raising awareness and funds for a cure is extremely important to me. I hope that you can find $5, $10, $15…$20 dollars in your pocket to donate. I know some people have philosophical differences with the Susan G Komen foundation.  I ask that you think of me, or my mother, or my grandmother, or my aunts and cousins who have had breast cancer – some winning the battle, others not.  I don’t wish the breast cancer journey on anyone. That is why the support of the race for the cure and breast cancer awareness is important regardless.  Just because a percentage goes to something you do not agree with, think of the percentage that does.

If you would like to donate, please visit our team page here:  http://rfch.convio.net/site/TR/Race/General?team_id=53242&pg=team&fr_id=1170.  I will update you after the race with the story and photos.

Posted in Uncategorized

DETOURS AND ORANGE BARRELS

Last week, during the waning days of Suckuary, I received a phone call from my OB/GYN. While I love Dr. E, whenever she calls me, it’s not always good news.

Very gently, Dr. E started to explain, in detail, the results of my ultrasound.  Turns out my uterus is 5.5. I have no idea what that means, but Dr. E explained that a uterus of 5 is not good so a 5.5 means surgery. She explained I am full of fibroids and then moved on to one of my ovaries and explained it was full of a lot of something, likely cysts.

Dr. E then said the word I have dreaded since I had breast cancer and started taking Tamoxifen – hysterectomy.  

While I’ve known for years now if I ever became a mother this child would likely not have my genes, hearing the word hysterectomy turned the blood in my veins ice cold.  A hysterectomy makes this my-gene-less child a reality. Final. Case noisily and painfully closed.

Let me interject here that I am totally fine with adoption and have had it on my mind for years. My niece and nephew are adopted and I love them and I’m grateful they are part of my family.

Adoption, however, became uber complicated the minute I leapt into my forties, remained unmarried and slammed into a breast cancer diagnosis.  Whenever I’ve contemplated adoption, I have envisioned riding a camel through an eye of a needle or finding a Camel cigarette in a haystack. Either way the journey to motherhood now appears painful, long and tedious.

Dr. E’s insistence that the surgery happen sooner rather than later didn’t help my spirits. I’ve been waiting to be approved for bariatric surgery. I have been waiting since August and have had to file an appeal because my sleep apnea number wasn’t high enough and I was TWO pounds underweight for an automatic approval. This situation illustrates what’s wrong with the insurance industry. 

I am a big believer in timing and that life unfolds as it should, so now, knowing I had to get a hysterectomy, I finally understood why I had to wait for weight loss surgery. Nevertheless, that did not stop me from contacting Vice Presidents and other people high up the food chain at the insurance company and telling them my story and asking them for help with my appeal. (By the way, if I don’t hear from you by Friday, we’re doing it all over again).

I’m having a hysterectomy as soon as next week. Not sure exactly when, but I’ll let you know. An oncologist will be present during surgery and will let Dr. E know whether cancer is present.  She doesn’t think it’s cancer, but with my history and Tamoxifen we have to be sure.  I have to get bloodwork done tomorrow and I’m sure time will fly faster than I want it to pass. Then I will be uterus-less and only have one remaining ovary and I will move on to the next phase of my life.  

My childless life.

While I’m sad that I will never carry a child, or even be granted the official title of Mother, God has reminded me of how many young people I’ve “mothered” and mentored and befriended. The word mother doesn’t include the word uterus and I still have a lot of years left to see how God is going to work everything out in this area of my life.

So many have expressed their sadness over, “no babies.” I appreciate it, but my life is not over because I have no child (and yes, there are moments I have to re-convince myself of this). I try not to think of what I don’t have in my life, I think about what I do have. I have many “children.” I have many friends.  I have a great family.

My life is very, very full, even if my uterus never was.  

Posted in Uncategorized

LIVE STRONG

Just a few short weeks ago, a co-worker rode 65 miles in the LiveStrong race in Austin.  I knew she was going to participate, what I didn’t know is that she race in my honor (and others). This young woman is a remarkable, loving, caring single mother and she is stronger than I think even she knows. She juggles motherhood, work, and college and still finds time to inspire and care for others. Thank you, Mack, for your kind and caring gesture. It means more than you know!