It's the One Year Annivesary of My Breast Cancer Surgery

 Breast cancer, surgery, chemo, radiation, and life have been on my mind this week. Sunday and the Super Bowl marked the exact year of the lumpectomy.  It seems that the continued shift in emotions are still there.

I do admit to being grateful to being able to eat and drink a couple glasses of wine that evening with a few friends instead of being doped up and nauseous due to pain killers, learning to drain the lymph drainage bag, and consuming many Cheetos because they really did make me feel better.

Going down memory lane...here are a few of the post surgery posts

The original surgery update

My excitement over the genetic test results

My favorite post surgery update regarding the amazing discovery that Cheetos cure nausea

So instead of Tim having a couple guys over and me ignore the Super Bowl, heck I didn't even know who was playing, I invited Cheeto Lori over and Fish Lori over to hang out and felt grateful to be where I am.

I also connected with my hospital posse, Kathy and Kimm because it felt important to do so.

It feels important to both remember and to be grateful, so I suppose this post is really about gratitude.  Gratitude to be alive, healthy and have wonderful people in my life.

I'm also grateful that I'm having my first haircut, since last January and Chemo in two days, woo hoo!  Although, I'm not quite sure what Dot can really do with my hair, it will feel good to be back in the saddle so to speak with every day things that happen in life and we take for granted.  Granted that is until you have cancer, no hair and are wondering when you are going to get back to any sort of lifestyle you previously had.

I also had the opportunity to have an amazing conversation with Linda Resca (website Heart of Your Illness), a gift from Kathy.  Linda's work and passion is to partner and help people who are diagnosed with a serious illness connect with their heart and spirit. 

During my cancer journey I felt that I had and created the support I needed and could fit in with my cancer, work and family schedule but as I journeyed towards the end of my treatment I had some fears and questions that came up - such as, would it come back? and life felt different, and what the heck did that mean.

Linda and I had a delightful conversation that helped me get reconnected to my own heart.  I get that we may not have the answers, or the answers we want to have right in front of us, and we can choose to be in fear, or choose the experience we want.  I'm not sure if that rightfully explains part of where I am, but without filling up pages and pages, I'm calling it good.

The surgery anniversary also marks my second upcoming blood test and cancer marker test next week.  I know that all will be well, and I realized that each time  I need another blood test there is a feeling of anxiety that comes with it.  I fully now understand why so many women that have the BRAC gene have a double masectomy.  It's called peace of mind.

I'm also grateful I mostly have peace of mind and know when I feel the swell of anxiety I am the one that gets to decide what it means to me.  And it's not right or wrong to feel a certain way, rather, simply be concsious and aware.

So that's the poop on the anniversary.  Alive, kicking, mop o hair, still at times swollen breast, itchy armpits (from Tamoxifen although they claim it's not on the list of side effects), fingers and toes feeling good, memory - huh?  well, still working on that one, happy and grateful.

Regards,

Michele Corey

Comments

[Stefanie Hartman]

Great post. Your story is very inspirational.

[Michele Corey]

Howdy Judi,

Thanks so much for taking time to comment. And I can truthfully say I have a good idea of what you are feeling. Blogging helped me stay in touch with friends especially when I felt overwhelmed and / or didn’t want to pick up the phone. The biggest thing I learned is to ask, and you will receive. Again and again I was told, thank you – when in my mind I was the one receiving. I learned that my family and friends really wanted to bring over a meal, help pick my son up, take me to the hospital – it helped them feel valuable and brought joy. I mean who would have thought that spending half your day while chemo dripped into your friends arm would be fun?

Do enlist a friend or two to manage the details. I did and it made a huge difference.

I also struggled with, how sick do you “need” to be to ask for help – as I felt pretty darn good – and pushed myself when I didn’t (oops). Of course now I feel even better, and have subtle breast cancer journey reminders. I keep going back to a story I once heard Oprah tell goes something like this, because you said you would do it, you feel compelled that you have to do it. You’d make that dessert and drag a broken leg over glass to get it there on the table with a smile on your face.

People talk about the cancer card, I call it a life card. DO give yourself guilt free permission to do what you’re really feeling and wanting. Heck you may even learn to enjoy it. I know I’ve greatly improved over time, and I’m still very conscious and learning to let in.

May you and your journey have blessings galore.

Do feel that you can call or email (although sometimes it takes me a while on email) any time whether it’s a quick question or simply because you want to connect with someone that has shared this experience, but doesn’t know you and can offer different perspective.

Warm Regards, Michele

[Judi]

Hi! Michele,
What a great blog...I start Chemo on Monday Feb 16th (2009) in Montreal and am just now thinking about the beginnings of this part of my cancer journey.
I've placed Cheetos on my food list and had a belly laugh over a few other things you mentioned about your first chemo visit, thank you. Congrats on your anniversary!
Judi

[Kathy Mallary]

Michele, I'm grateful too! First of all, that my dear friend Michele is HERE, HAPPY and HAIRIER every day. =^)

Also, I'm grateful to Eli for reminding you to take frequent play breaks, because I know first-hand that playtime with Eli brings joy and love and laughter. And joy and love and laughter have better side effects than chemo drugs.

And I'm grateful to you for sharing your heart on this blog and in the many conversations we've had this year, sometimes in odd surroundings, like in a curtained hospital cubicle with mysterious stuff dripping into your arm, or in the middle of a massive motorcycle traffic jam of big hair, boobs and tattoos.

You're the bravest, most amazing woman I know, and I'm blessed to call you my friend.

All I can say is "Thank God."

Love,
Kathy

P.S. Looking forward to seeing your new 'do!