Live Long--Live Strong--Happy 2 Year Anniversary!!!!

Wow, it seems like forever ago in some ways, and just like yesterday in others. As I reflect on these past two year of my recovery from treatment, and my journey in learning to live again, I find myself sad I had to fight cancer, but also actually grateful for the learning opportunities cancer has brought into my life.  I can't believe how much more I appreciate life.  It's like the world slowed down, and all my senses became hypersensitive.  There are fewer things that upset me or make me angry because honestly, by comparison, there just isn't anything out there that makes it worth wasting even a day being upset. I do feel sad when I see people being mean, harboring hatred, and holding anger. They just don't get how we are all here doing the best we can with the current vision we have. Don't judge--give people a break.  I appreciate the experiences I can share with others, and the deep compassion I have for others, but especially for those facing health challenges. I cherish family and friendships more than ever now because I can clearly see which relationships in my life were genuine and who couldn't handle facing tough times with me.  I continue to hold dear those who stood by me, endured the worst with me, and now continue to hang in there to support me as I adjust to how cancer has changed me as a person. Those relationships I will treasure forever. Those are friends for a lifetime.

It has been a journey of rebuilding since my last treatment, two years ago today.  It’s amazing to have hair again and to not worry about how it looks or if it's just perfect, because it is fabulous that it's just there and growing! For the first year Greg measured how much my hair grew by how many times he could twist it around his finger. An interesting part of hair is it truly is a timeline of your life. Last night, I cut off another two inches of chemo hair. I think I have about two more inches left before it's all gone. How do I know it's chemo hair here two years later? It's the part of my hair that is still curly while the newer hair is straight, and it is so damaged and dry it feels like hay when it is wet.  Oh, and how I appreciate eyebrows and eyelashes so much more.  When I posted some pictures on Facebook from Apache Lake, Facebook brought up previous posts from that location, some from June 2013.  Wow, what a shocker!  There I was in the boat at the lake as bald and hairless as could be--no hair, no eyelashes, no eyebrows.  It definitely made me appreciate my messy, windblown, lake water hair at that moment!

January of 2014 started my year of trying to “return to normal”. I began to live life to the fullest, staying as busy as possible, traveling every weekend, accomplishing goals like completing 5K’s, taking trips to places I’ve never been, saying “yes” to whimsical, spontaneous adventures. It was like all my time lines in life went into fast forward. I was doing anything and everything determined to make up for the year and a half cancer stole from me--determined to return to my “pre-cancer” life--determined to “live” as much as possible just in case cancer came back.  I was trying to run "back to" my life.

And, after almost a year of doing everything I could squeeze in, I’ve realized several things.

• First, my “pre-cancer life” is actually gone forever.  But honestly, that’s not such a bad thing.  That life is gone because I’ve changed physically, emotionally, and mentally. And while I wish the physical changes hadn’t happened, emotionally and mentally, I’m a better person now because of cancer. 

• Second, I'm so very proud of this journey I’ve taken--we’ve taken together.  With the help of my loved ones, I have stayed strong, and grown strong, stayed brave, and found courage, stayed faithful, and found trust.  I’ll hold on to this strength and cherish what I’ve gained from cancer forever. I hope I always appreciate the gifts I have found from this horrible trial in my life, stay strong, and inspire others.  

• Finally, I’ve realized even though learning to live with the aftereffects of cancer has been SO hard, it's SO much better than dying from cancer. Despite the bone aches and the weight gain from the Tamoxifen, the lymphedema in my arm and the swelling in my legs from the lymph nodes being removed, the numbness constant in my feet, no matter what physical obstacles I now live with, or the aches and pains that are part of my new body, I AM ALIVE and I WILL LIVE.  There are so many who fight cancer and lose their battle--some physically leave this world, and some mentally never get over being sick. So I fight the aches with my new standing desk at work to keep from getting too stiff, and I accept the weight gain focusing on eating as healthy as I can, and I put my swollen feet up each night glad I am still here to walk, and, while it was sad, I gave away my dozens of high heels in exchange for flat, cushioned shoes that help me walk without falling. See, in spite of everything cancer took from me, it also made me stronger, more creative, more appreciative, and more faithful and I'm so proud of who I am BECAUSE of cancer. I’m also so appreciative of all of my family and friends that came through this with me and remain in my life today.  Life is too short not to cherish every relationship we have and appreciate what they truly means. Life is too short for judgement, anger and hatred.

Next week will be my two year follow-up appointments.  I'll spend the day at MD Anderson Cancer Center doing labs, scans, tests, and seeing my extended family of doctors and nurses.  Am I nervous going back in for my checkups? Absolutely.  I think some gnawing nervousness will always be in the back of my mind, scared I might have to face this battle again. But that is just part of this new life, and after the fear will come the relief and celebration that I am one more year down the road as a survivor.

So, now, two years after my treatment, three years after my diagnosis and the absolute worst years of my life, I’m here, finally brave enough to make a followup blog post.  During my cancer journey, this blog was a life-saver.  It helped me survive, reflect, share, teach, learn, appreciate, and stay positive.  As my treatments came to an end and the celebrations began, I became afraid of making a final blog post.  Down deep inside, I was scared my journey wasn’t really over.  I was waiting until I could get “back to normal”, back to my “pre-cancer life” so I could be sure this was all truly over.  But now, as a two-year survivor, I’ve realized this was never really about being over or being back to normal.  It was a journey in my life that, with the help and support of family and friends, I survived, I grew from, and from which I became a better person.

I have lost some valuable pieces of my life because of how cancer has affected me.  For these losses I am sad.  I will never get those people or things back. But I have also learned to live life more fully, appreciate life and people more deeply, and spent my time truly living, not just letting day after day pass by.  Thank you...thank you to my friends, my family, my doctors, and to God for the opportunities surviving cancer has given me.  It is because of you I will always TRUST.  Live Long--Live Strong! Life is SO good.

Sunshine & Smiles . . . . . Susan

A Week of Celebrating with the Cardinals......

10/16/13--Wednesday--Day 22 Cancer Free--Coming Full Circle

What an amazing month this has been.  After a year and a half filled with tragedy, loss and illness, October 2013 has been a busy month of celebrations and new beginnings as we start a new, fresh life, cancer-free.  I have transitioned from having cancer to being a breast cancer survivor and I couldn't feel more blessed.

Dinner with the Cardinals  Arizona Foothills Magazine Pictures Link

After a few days of welcome home celebrations, we spent a weekend home in our own bed happy to be home permanently.  It felt great, even though the week ahead would bring two more trips to Phoenix.  On Monday, Sept. 30th, I worked a half day and then we drove to Scottsdale to attend a Breast Cancer Survivor's dinner with some of the Cardinals football players.  The event was held at Sapporo's restaurant where five of the Cardinals players prepared a Teppanyaki meal for about twenty breast cancer survivors and their guests.  For the first time in almost a year, I felt truly full of joy.  The sparkle twinkled in my eye once again and true happiness filled my heart.  It was so nice to be relaxed and completely enjoy the experience.  What made the night even more special is that it involved the Cardinal football players.  We have been 20-year Cardinal season ticket holders so I knew having dinner with the players meant the world to Greg.  It felt nice giving something meaningful and special back to him after all he had done for me through this whole ordeal.  

We had no idea what to expect at the dinner.  We anticipated it would be a banquet hall full of people but were only guessing.  When we drove into the parking lot, we sat in the car for a bit trying to assess what this was going to be about.  There were not crowds of people pouring in, and in fact, the place really wasn't that large.  Last year it seemed like there were at least 50 survivors on the field.  Where were 100 plus people going to fit in this restaurant?  We finally entered the restaurant and were surprised to see two Cardinals players, Lindley and Brown, working with a chef practicing cooking on a large steel plate.  Ten chairs surrounded the cooking surface and people were standing watching the activity.  The host greeted us and told us they were practicing so we could watch while we waited for the event to start.  The crowd was small, and I looked around wondering where everyone was.  I was anxious to meet Lisa, from Cigna, who had allowed me to be a part of this.  Though I had no idea what she looked like, I recognized her immediately when she walked in.  She just looked like that "make it happen" kind of girl.  I approached her with a hug and introduced myself telling her just what this meant to Greg and I.  I was so excited to meet her in person and so appreciative of what she had done for us by making us a part of all of this.

It wasn't long before we were escorted to our tables by waiters dressed in white shirts with a red Cardinal and a pink breast cancer ribbon.  There were ten seats lining a large rectangular grill in each areas and table confetti with the words 'Strength', 'Hope', and 'Courage' decorated each place-settings.  There were four areas so forty people total.  That was only 20 survivors and I realized just how fortunate we were to be there.  Each survivor received a bag with a Cardinals hat, our game tickets, a parking pass, a pink towel, and a few other items.  The players all signed our hats and were super nice taking time to visit and take pictures with anyone who asked.  

We settled into our seats and were lucky enough to have Lindley, the backup quarterback, be assigned as our player chef.  He spoke to each of us greeting us and handing us a pink rose as we introduced ourselves.  Greg, of course, broke the ice by showing everyone his painted celebration toe nails.  To our right was an older woman who was a survivor several years out and her husband, to our left, a young woman of 29 who was a one-year survivor.  It was the first time I had been in a group of cancer survivors since the Relay for Life in May, but this time it felt great to be there. I was encouraged by the hair growth of the one year survivor as every millimeter of growth for me seems huge.  I truly was a survivor now, just like everyone else there, and it truly was a time to celebrate!

Once Lindley's mentor chef arrived, Lindley began cooking / performing for us, which made the evening fabulous.  Instead of sitting at tables with the players trying to make conversation while we ate, the players were performing while doing the cooking.  From flipping pieces of egg into our mouths to lighting our plates on fire, the entertainment value was exceptional.  Lindley was genuine, friendly and engaged and the meal he made was entertaining as well as fantastic.  The other players, Brown, Sendlein, Acho, Talley all seemed genuinely honored to be there honoring us as survivors.  Sendlein is one of my favorite players because he sits on the bench right in front of our second row seats.  I have always enjoyed watching him, I guess partly because of his redish hair and partly because I see just how hard he plays every game.  It was exciting to meet him in person, and actually be able to hug him in such a small setting.  I was amazed at just how big the players actually are.  They are all tall enough to be professional basketball players.  All five had to duck under the exhaust hood over the grill to avoid hitting their heads as they cooked.  I never realized football players were so tall.  The whole night was truly perfect and Greg and I drove home realizing just how blessed we were to have been involved in such an amazing opportunity.  What a great person Lisa was to help up be part of this.  Above by the header is a link to the pictures featured in Arizona Foothills Magazine from that night.  

Halftime Practice with the Cardinals Cheerleaders

I returned to work two more days before leaving at noon on Thursday to head back to Tempe for more Cardinals activities.  The halftime performance practice was scheduled that evening, this time with the cheerleaders at the Cardinals practice facility.  When we arrived in the parking lot, there were tons of people.  Because we would be performing with high school cheerleader, there were dozens of girls, and some boys, from area high school cheer squads waiting in groups for the entrance to open.  It wasn't hard to find the survivors--most had short hair and were beginning to form their own group, but for the first time we realized there were many more than the 20 who had been invited to the dinner Monday.  As Greg and I stood in line with them, we began to realize only a select few had been chosen to attend Monday night's dinner.  In addition, we learned that all of the survivors had "applied" to be part of the show.  From the hundreds of applications, fifty were chosen--45 from the American Cancer Society and five from Cigna.  We were more grateful than ever that Lisa had made us one of the Cigna five.  Though Lisa had organized the Cigna group for several years now, this would be the first year she would be a participant.  Last year she learned she carried the BRCA gene and chose to have a double mastectomy since breast cancer ran strong in her family.  What a difficult year she had been through.   Before long I stumbled upon Angela, the lady who would be appearing on the News Channel 3 morning show with me on Sunday morning.  She was a Cigna nurse, a six year survivor, and had a great personality.

Soon we were shuffled onto the field carrying a huge breast cancer ribbon made from balloon/parachute material.  A friendly Cardinals cheerleader staff member instructed us on how we would enter the field side-by-side carrying the ribbon and on her signal, quickly spread apart revealing it in its entirety.  This would all be set to Katy Perry's song You're Gonna Hear Me Roar, an incredible, empowering song that fit my celebration mood perfectly.  Then, when the song ended, we would quickly gather it back up returning to the middle and march off the field.  Every practice we ran through I felt more and more liberated and became more and more excited to finally end this thing on the field where it all started.  

One of the inspiring parts of the evening was having the high school cheer teams there.  When we were finished practicing, the leader introduced their large group to our large group.  She explained that they had decided to have us perform at the same halftime show because what could be a better message to send than to have high school girls realize how important breast cancer awareness and self exams are.  We were give a few minutes to mingle and meet the girls.  It has been a long time since I have visited with high school girls and it actually made me miss teaching.  Each of the girls seemed caring and compassionate which made a perfect end to a great evening. 

Meeting Nicole Bidwell

On a funnier note, Greg had an even better time than I did.  The whole time I was out on the field practicing, each time I would glance at the sidelines, I saw Greg talking to a beautiful lady who had the largest dog I had ever seen.  It was a huge saint bernard named Barney which we saw when we first went through the entrance.  It seemed a little strange that someone would have a dog in the facility, but I didn't think anything of it.  As I practiced, I kept laughing as I looked over and watched Greg so animated and consumed in his conversations.  He was so focused on talking with the small group that had gathered, which ended up including Sendlein, that I was sure he had no clue I was even on the field.  He was in heaven!  As we finished and I walked toward him, he quickly introduced me to the lady with the dog, "Nicole, this is my wife, Susan."  She immediately reached out and gave me a huge hug telling me she loved my story as I heard Greg say, "Susan, this is Nicole Bidwell."  Oh my gosh!  Greg had just spent the entire evening talking with Nicole Bidwell and her dog Barney.  She is the Cardinals owner's wife.  And when she met me, she knew my whole story and was so friendly and kind.  Later, Greg told me they had figured out that he and she had met before, over a decade ago.   It was the only day it ever snowed in Tempe during a Cardinals football game when we used to play at ASU.  Greg, who was in shorts, went to the fan shop to buy a coat as the sudden change in weather had left him freezing.  This lady literally lunged over at Greg and took the coat right out of his hands in a panic and saying she had to have the coats for the cheerleaders.  She assured him she would return and find him another coat, which she eventually did.  As she and Greg were talking while I was on the field that night, they both remembered the incident and realized they had met before.  Once again it made for an incredibly special night for Greg.  

TV Interview Fox Channel 10   Fox Channel 10 Interview Video Clip

Just as I was standing talking with Nicole, Whitney, Lisa's assistant, found me and led me away.  She said she had Fox News Channel 10 there and would like me and Angela to do an interview with them.  I was surprised but excited.  They interviewed Angela first, and then me.  It was the first time I have ever been interviewed for TV.  I told the story of how the halftime show from last year may have saved my life as 16 hours after that show, I found my lump and decided to act on it.  The link to the interview that appeared later that night on the news is above by the header.  

We left the field and headed for our hotel.  We were both super excited about the evening and were riding a high, especially after being interviewed on TV.  Greg assured me I sounded great and we were both excited to see it on the news.  We checked in and headed for our room waiting for the 9:00 news segment to appear.  After seeing it, I was relieved.  I didn't sound like an idiot, and I sent a good message that hopefully will make a difference in someone's life.  Shortly after it aired, there was a knock on the door.  It was room service, but we hadn't ordered anything.  They brought in a tray filled with cheeses, fruit, and bread with a message from the front desk manager congratulating me on finishing treatment and my TV appearance.  It was just another amazing high for the night.

Friday we headed to Cottonwood to see my dad with Preston, and our friends Mike and Suzie who had joined us for the weekend.  It had been 11 days since my last treatment and I was determined to start hiking, though my energy and endurance was provenly low.  Saturday morning all six of us, including my dad, headed to Sedona to hike Bell Rock.  Despite a gradual uphill grade, I was successful hiking with a few stops to rest and catch my breath.  I am definitely lacking endurance, but I figure the only way to build it back up is to keep pushing myself.  And, what better place to hike then the beautiful mountains of Sedona.  We ended up hiking over three miles and, while I was tired, I was glad I was able to do it.  We headed back down to Phoenix Saturday afternoon so we would be in town for the early Sunday morning interview.

TV Interview News Channel 3  News Channel 3 Video Clip
On Sunday morning we arrived at News Channel 3 an hour and a half ahead of schedule.  We were taken into the newsroom to wait for our segment.  I loved the environment thinking about my journalism minor and how I loved being the advisor for the school newspaper for so many years.  A few minutes before the interview, we were taken into the live studio.  Two things surprised me--it was much smaller than I expected and there were no camera men.  All of the cameras were automated.  Angela and I were given microphones and taken to some chairs on the set.  Within a few minutes, the host came over and sat beside us and before I knew it, we were live.  At first it was hard to get my words going, but once I got past the first few sentences, I got into the message I was trying to get across and forgot I was on TV.  I explained how being diagnosed with breast cancer is like an astroid falling out of the sky--it can hit anyone so be aware and check.  As we ended, I gave the host a set of pink beads, and before I knew it, it was over and I felt great about how things went.

Finally, Coming Full Circle with the Halftime Show NFL Commercial Video Clip
From the station, we went straight to the stadium where Greg put on his pink wig from the Pretty in Pink party in February along with his pink star glasses.  We walked around the outside of the stadium to the great lawn where some friends, Rachel and Danny, were kind enough to let us join their tailgate party as we met up with friends.  My dad and Preston, Mike and Suzie, Paul and Diane, and Bruce and Margaret had all come to attend in my honor.  I handed out pink beads and ribbons to everyone and had a great time tailgating.  We left early to enter the stadium for a pre-game field tour, another wonderful opportunity arranged by Miss Lisa.  Greg and I were more excited than ever to be on the field that close to the players as they were warming up.  It wasn't long before cameramen and photographers noticed Greg's outlandish outfit.  Soon an NFL cameraman came over and filmed us assuring us we would be on TV, which we took with a grain of salt. After that, one of the Cardinals team photographers came over and took pictures of everything from my survivor shirt to Greg's toenails.  The excitement of being on the field made for a perfect start to the game.

As it got closer to kickoff, Greg headed to our normal seats and my dad came to the survivors' section to sit with me.  As soon as the second quarter started, we were escorted down behind the Red Zone where we took our places, removed the ribbon from its bag, and stood waiting for our halftime debut.  It was difficult to stand the entire second quarter, but interesting to listen to all of the stories of the girls around me.  Of all those who shared their stories, I had received the most chemo treatments, a total of 16 over 24 weeks, and the most chemo medications, one for 12 weeks and three for 12 weeks.  It was another reminder of just how serious my diagnosis had been, but also how grateful I was to have received such excellent care.  Finally, it was time for the culminating event--the full circle event that would end this thing where it started one year ago on that very Cardinals field.  As we walked out onto the field, I was overwhelmed with emotion from the journey we had been on over the last year and the journey all my fellow survivors had faced.  The music started and out on the field we went.  As we spread the ribbon out to "....and you're gonna hear me roar..."  tears streamed down my face.  How could this be?  How had this year happened?  How could I now be standing here--an actual survivor--12 months after having so much respect for the women who stood here last year?  I was happy and sad, excited and overwhelmed, and inspired all at the same time.  I had done it!  We had done it!  We had survived!  We were cancer-free and at that moment, my life was handed back to me.  It was finally over.  As I walked off the field, I realized I was finally free from this and it was time to start over.  I headed back to our regular seats where my dad and all of our friends had migrated to.  I was once again surrounded by the support system that had gotten me through this.

Shortly after the second half started, Jennifer Campbell, a friend of ours, tagged us in a video she had uploaded to Facebook.  The NFL camera man had come through--Greg and I were in the NFL beginning of second half commercial!  Wow!  Once again an amazing surprise. NFL Commercial Video Clip

As I sat through the rest of the game and had time to reflect, I became oblivious to the game and people around me.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I was truly overwhelmed with emotions reflecting back on the year we had just made it through.  I felt completely blessed, super fortunate, and very lucky.  It was a great way to end this journey.

Newspaper Articles  Sunday's Smaller Article    Wednesday's Larger Article
We returned home after the game and were surprised to find a small article in our local newspaper talking about the practice from Thursday night.  Lisa and Whitney had sent a press release to the Courier with my picture and the information about the halftime show.  A reporter had called me a few days before and asked about my story.  The Wednesday following the Cardinals game, a more detailed article appeared telling more details of my story and featuring three different pictures over two pages--one of Greg and me by the pink tree before the February party (I still had hair), one of the backs of the five Cigna girls showing SURVIVOR on our t-shirts, and one taken up higher showing us holding the large pink ribbon during the halftime show.  The Wednesday article was much larger than I expected and was part of a special Breast Cancer Awareness section, which I was really glad to see.

At the end of the week, we headed to Albuquerque to spend a few days at the Balloon Fiesta, something I usually spend nine days at crewing for balloonist Steve Adams.  I had to limit my time after being away from work for radiation, but mostly because I just don't have enough endurance to do as much.  We had a great time while we were there, even though I had to go slower and do less than I normally do.  My dad, Preston, and Yuri joined us and pitched in doing some of what I usually do so it all worked out.  Plus, my dad finally flew in a balloon, yay dad and thanks Steve!

So after returning home again this past Sunday, we face one more final event before fully finishing this cancer story.  We will be hosting a Kissing Cancer Goodbye / Birthday celebration this coming Saturday (my birthday is Sunday) so that in some small way, Greg and I can give back to all those who have done so much for us.  And, at the party we will cut down that pink tree that has stood as a symbol of hope and strength, and into the bonfire it will go.

So if you're in the area, I hope you join us as we celebrate--all are welcome.  Following Saturday, I will close this blog with one last post as we close this chapter of our life!  That will be our final act of moving forward and having this journey Come Full Circle.

The Pink Tree has faded, The cancer has too.
Now is the time, To celebrate with you.

Come to the party, The bonfire will be high.
We're finishing this race, And kissing Cancer Goodbye.

It's a great celebration, And a birthday for me.
A brand new beginning, Starting life cancer-free.

We hope you will come, As this party's for you!
To thank our supporters, For being so true!

We'll have dinner and fun, And the Pink Tree will come down.
Our final celebration, Is sure to rock this small town!

Help us Kiss Cancer Goodbye Saturday, October 19th, 4:30PM!

Welcome Home Celebrations. What Wonderful People.......

9/25/13--Wednesday--DAY 1 Cancer Free--Living Life More Than I Ever Have Before!

It has been such an incredible 24 hours and I am still smiling and celebrating every minute I am awake!  Such a burden has been lifted from Greg and I both, and it is the first time we have truly felt this happy in 347 days!

After ringing the bell yesterday, we spent a few minutes with those who had come to celebrate with us.  Juanita, my friend from the lab, made the perfect cake--a boobie cake--and presented it to us, which was super sweet.  Betsy, a second floor nurse who has been out on maternity leave, returned just in time to help us celebrate along with nurses Tia, Cheryl, Heather, Carolyn, Sue, Dr. Grade, and so many more.  There must have been 30 people there altogether.  It felt wonderful and was exciting to have so many there as we finished our race.  It truly was like crossing the finish line of a very long marathon, which was something that kept me going throughout this long and challenging fight.

From the hospital, Bob, Wanda, Charlene, my dad, Preston, Diane, Paul, Greg and I went to IHOP to celebrate.  Greg and I were both so excited, neither of us could hardly eat but it was great to visit and laugh and take in the excitement from everyone.  After saying goodbye, we decided to celebrate more by going to the Apple store and buying new iPhones :)  

Several hours later, we picked up Sierra, our dog, and headed home.  As we drove into town, Greg said, "It feels nice coming home for the first time not really knowing when we will be going back to Mesa," and he was right.  It was the first time of feeling completely finished.  As we pulled onto our street, there were colored flags and signs lining the corrals saying "Welcome", "Home", "Greg and Susan", "Today is the First Day of the rest of your lives" and they were right.  It was truly a fresh start.  We were off of 'pause' and on 'play' as we were free to decide what to do now, where to go, with no restrictions to plan around.

We pulled into the driveway to a huge sign lining the carport saying, "You Made It To The Finish Line!"  How absolutely sweet for our friends to be so thoughtful.  I knew our neighbors Kristi Fertig and Gayrene Claridge, our friend Susie Case, and my friends and co-workers Carol Elders and Stephanie Saldana were responsible.  They had been our cheerleaders and helpers all the way through this.  We walked in the door to even more surprises.  There were more Finish Line flags draped across the kitchen, and signs lining the windows, "Kiss Cancer Goodbye", "Cancer Does Not Live Here Anymore!", "Cancer Free Zone!", "No More Chemo", "My Friend Is A Cancer Survivor!", "My Friend Kicked Cancer's Butt!".  What an amazing feeling.  It felt so good to be celebrating.  The counter had balloons and a great elephant cake (I collect elephants), along with a sign letting us know there was meat, fruit, and veggies in the frig.  And that wasn't all!  There was a menu of meals they and others (Sue Bonefas and Barbara Haralson) would be bringing for the next four nights so we could get settled in without worrying about shopping.  And to top it all off, they had completely cleaned my house--vacuumed, dusted, cleaned the bathrooms, the whole works.  I have never been more grateful for a kind act in my life.  These wonderful people will never know what a difference they made in helping us celebrate, feel completely relieved and experience such gratefulness.  

Greg and I soaked everything in and then collapsed on the couch as we tried to process the feeling of being truly free from cancer.  I don't think we realized the huge burden and pressure we had been under until it was completely lifted.  We were both floating.

This morning, we woke after enjoying our own bed and the idea of being here to stay.  In the shower, we peeled off the last eight remaining green tags from radiation and everything looked better immediately.  While the area on the side of my breast, under my arm, and underneath my breast remains black and blue and peeling, having the tags gone just looked better as it symbolized being free from any more treatments.  Some of my skin came off with some of the tags, but it signified a time for healing to begin.

Soon I was off to work looking forward to settling back in at my office.  As I walked into my office and opened the door, there my team stood to surprise me as I crossed under yet another Finish Line sign.  There were flowers, more signs, and many happy faces in my office and it felt amazing not only to be back, but to have so many people happy to see me and welcome me back.

This was a long race and I plan on spending a long time celebrating my finish.  The next celebration coming up is the Cardinals breast cancer awareness game.  I received final details today concerning the events.  I learned that next Monday, we will actually have dinner with some of the Cardinals players in celebration of being a survivor.  Then on Thursday, we will practice with the cheerleaders for the game on Sunday.  Finally, on Sunday, I am excited to have the opportunity to end this journey where it started, on the Cardinals field during halftime.  One year ago as I watched the breast cancer survivors on that field, I never imaged myself being one.  But I knew, if I ever was one, I would want to be as brave as those women were, dancing on a field, bald or with little hair, celebrating surviving in front of 70,000 people.  And now, here I am, about to do just that.  I am lucky that several of our friends are going to attend the game in my honor as well as Preston and my dad.  And I can't wait to celebrate being a survivor on that field. You see, in some ways, I believe that game last year saved my life.  I found my lump 16 hours after attending and watching those ladies.  Maybe, subconsciously, I looked for something I might not have without being there.  I only hope the sponsors of this event, Cigna Health Care, realize the difference this can make for someone, and the difference it made for me.

I will post another entry following the Cardinals events, and then, on October 19th, the day before my birthday, Greg and I are hosting a "Kissing Cancer Goodbye" party.  I want everyone who can come to attend as we cut down that Pink Tree.  So many people have done so much for us, and we want to end this journey with a final celebration of being alive with all of those who have done so much for us.  Please mark your calendars to be part of our celebration.  Following that, I will make one last post before ending my blog.  This blog and the followers of the blog have helped me through this horrific journey and trial in my life and I am so glad I was able to use it to stay positive and focused on winning this battle.  But my journey is over, the race I have won and it is time to move on and start Living Life More Than I Ever Have Before.

Crossing the Finish Line...........

9/24/13--Tuesday--Day 346--Ringing the Cancer Free Bell!

What an absolutely amazing few days it has been celebrating the end to this horrific year of cancer!  I am so happy I crossed the finish line in this breast cancer race.  I feel like I felt the day I had my braces taken off and I couldn't stop smiling.  I am beaming from the inside out and feel like the weight of the world has been taken off of my shoulders!

When we arrived home last Friday afternoon, we unloaded our six week's worth of baggage and supplies, dropping most of them on the floor by the door.  It was SOOOOO nice to be home for good.  And though we had one more overnight trip for the remaining two treatments, that seemed minute by comparison to what we had just finished.  We set out to shop since there hadn't been groceries in the house for six weeks but after that, spent Saturday and Sunday enjoying being home.  Our friends from Albuquerque, Mike and Suzie, came for the weekend since they wouldn't be able to be at the cancer center on Tuesday for my final treatment.  It was nice to celebrate with them since they had been so helpful during my hospital stay and many different times throughout this journey.

Wanting to thanks those who have done so much for us, we made small bags of treats to hand out on Tuesday when we rang the bell.  The nurses, doctors, aides, and technicians have become almost like family to us over these past eleven and a half months.  They have done so much to help us through this journey so this seemed like a small way to show our appreciation.  We made pretzels with Hugs and M&M's melted to them and packaged them in small clear bags.  These were the same treats we created in January to hand out at the hospital before my surgery, but instead of the tags saying "Kisses of Hope", these tags said "The Lindsey's are Kissing Cancer Goodbye!"  It seemed a fitting farewell.  Sunday evening we left some of the treat bags on the desks of all those who work in my building at school.  Many have been so supportive as I have fought this battle, but especially those who work on my team.

Over the weekend, Greg had his toenails painted one last time.  Our friend, Cheyenne, has been doing different breast cancer designs on Greg's toenails since January.  Since I didn't want him to shave or dye his hair, he decided to do his toenails as support.  The nurses have LOVED his creativity and admired him for being so supportive of me.  This was the most exciting toe design yet because they were our CELEBRATION TOES.  He still had his signature breasts and breast cancer ribbons, but this time they were surrounded by confetti with bright glitter gleaming with happiness.  He vowed to wear sandals on Tuesday in celebration and I was okay with that!

Monday morning we headed back to Mesa for the first time without dreading it since the end was finally so close in sight.  When I walked in for treatment Monday afternoon, I could hardly contain my excitement.  I hugged Ernie and told him goodbye since he would not be there the next day when I finished my treatment.  He and Kalib had been so wonderful and truly a joy to have on my team.   After treatment, Greg and I went to dinner in Chandler by a small lake, then we headed to a nice hotel to celebrate.

This morning was incredible.  We woke early and met my dad at the cancer center an hour before my scheduled treatment.  We wanted time to deliver our treats and say goodbye to so many.  In the lab we started with Marc and Juanita who always had a smile for us as they checked us in.  Tracy, who administered my last chemo, was there as was Heather.  I don't know what I would have done without Heather, the only nurse who could consistently access my port.  We had become so close.  I hugged them both and left them goodies.  We then started on the third floor, the dreaded infusion floor.  As I pressed 3 on the elevator, my mind flooded with memories of when I first stepped into that elevator and Dale, the volunteer, was escorting me around.  I remember having no idea what it meant when he said, "The third floor is our infusion floor," so he smiled at me and explained that was where chemo was administered.  I wasn't concerned because I knew I wasn't going to have chemo since I just had ductal carcinoma, the easy, stage zero cancer.   Months later, I remember how scared I was when I first pressed that button to go to the third floor.  This time, today, as we stepped out of the elevator and walked down the long hallway, I was beaming with excitement and gratitude for all of these amazing people who had done so much to save my life.

We delivered our treats along with hugs to all those who had made us feel so very safe--Donna, the third floor receptionist who I always kidded about giving me "jewelry" (the hospital arm bands); Hailey and Pam who greeted us with smiles and took vitals before escorting us to the chemo chairs; several different nurses who always stopped by to chat during our treatments; Sue and Kim, the amazing volunteer ladies who deliver lunch to the patients getting chemo; and Cheryl, my angel, my main chemo nurse, my partner, my encourager, and my reassurer.  How very fortunate I had been to connect with this amazing lady.  As we embraced, tears flooded into my eyes as I felt that familiar love and reassurance Cheryl always provided.  What a gift she is.  I was so glad she was there today.

We left treat bags for those we missed, nurses Carrie-Ann and Sarah, Mike the pharmacist, Fred who I always joked with about mixing my chemo in the flavor I requested ;).  From the third floor we moved to the second.  It was too early for anyone to be there, but Sonja, my friend from the lab, was covering for Heather and Christa, the second floor receptionist.  All three ladies have been so welcoming and Sonja has been especially supportive.  We left treats for them as well as all of the doctors and their staffs who have cared for me--Dr. Byrum, Dr. Matt, Dr. C., Melissa, Michelle, Lisa, Tia, Betsy, Leona, Adriana, and even Rita, my favorite gift shop volunteer.  It felt good to be giving back, even something so little, knowing each of them would smile when they received their treats and know we appreciated what they have done.  I was glad my dad was with us as we thanks all of these people.  He has been with me through every step, and next to Greg, been my biggest supporter.

Time was up and we headed back to the first floor.  As we exited the elevator, we ran into Bob, Wanda, and Charlene, our family friends from Cottonwood.  What a great surprise.  I've known Wanda since I was a little girl and she was my mom's best friend.  My heart melted seeing her as, in some small way, it felt a little like having my mom there to help me celebrate.  Charlene, Wanda's daughter, was the one of the first people I called for help last October when my biopsy results hadn't come back for several days.  She was also a big influence for me on recommending MD Anderson Cancer Center.

As we walked down to radiation, I was happy to see Preston there waiting.  I was glad he could be there and though I missed Brooklyn being there, I knew she was there in spirit, sending love from Idaho.  Our good friends Paul and Diane were there waiting as well.  They were the first people we told about the cancer last October as we sat in their van in a parking lot 24 hours after first being diagnosed.  I remember the devastating looks on both of their faces that night.  We now realize they understood the battle we were about to face better than we did at that time.  And, they had been by our sides throughout this battle to support and encourage us.  We spent several evenings at their house while we were in Mesa and they kept us cheered up and positive while we were away from home so long.

After saying hi to everyone, I went back to the dressing room smiling and delivering a few treats along the way, starting with Robbie, the receptionist who checked me in with a smile at radiation each day.  I was so excited to be putting on my treatment shirt for the last time.  Tracy and Kalib were excited with me as we set up for the last boost treatment.  They had both read the super long blog entry from last week and were excited for me about the Cardinals halftime show.  Once I was set, they left the room for the final time.  For a moment, I reflected back on just how scared I was the first time they walked out of that vault and left me with all of those machines.  This time, I couldn't stop smiling as I heard the machine begin to work.  It almost sounded like an electrical charge building up.  Then, within seconds, the "Beam On" light lit up and that familiar firing sound began.  As with the previous four times, it sounded like little BB's hitting glass super fast, almost like sandblasting as the radiation shot into on my scar one last time.  And that was it.  I was done!  As I stood up, I expressed my gratitude to Kalib and Tracy and told them what a difference they made in my treatment.  Yes, this was their job, but the respect and kindness they use was calming and comforting and I really appreciated working with them and Ernie over these last six weeks.  I told Kalib I would never forget his confident tone of voice that first day when he said, "This is easy peazy!"

They followed me down the long hallway and the door swung open to cheers and applause as I exited.  A large crowd had joined my friends and family in the waiting room.  All of the nurses whom we have grown to love from both the third and second floors and the lab girls had come to watch me ring the bell.  It was touching and I couldn't have been happier to share this exciting moment in my life with those who had taken such good care of us.

I motioned for Greg to come join me.  This has been his journey as much as it has been mine and he deserved to read the poem and ring the bell with me.  In unison, we read, "Ring this bell three times well, Its toll to clearly say, My treatment's done, This course is run, And I am on my way!"  The sound of that Soleri bell rang through our bodies as Greg and I together rang it loud and clear.  I can't remember ever being that excited.  There were no tears--just joy and happiness.  That bell signified that our lives had resumed.  The pause we had taken over the last eleven and a half months was over 19 days short of a year.  It had been 346 days of breast cancer; 21,714 miles driven for treatment or 4 round trips from Los Angeles to New York; 69 trips from Safford to Mesa, which works out to 363 hours or 15 days straight of driving; 38 nights in a different bed; 4 major surgeries, 3 of which were within 5 weeks of each other; 8 nights in the hospital; 98 injections in the butt of Heparin by Greg; 16 sessions of being killed by chemo or over 64 hours throughout 24 weeks; 30 rounds of radiation; 4 really bad days of being mad at Greg (when coming off of steroids); 0 baths (only showers); no hot tubbing; no longer being embarrassed about being naked in front of people; 0 times puking; and 0 missed days of work due to being sick (other than recovery from surgery and doctors appointments).  Whew.....It Was Finally Over!  We had Crossed the Finish Line and we were Ringing The Cancer-Free Bell!

The Radiation Journey......

9/19/13--Thursday--Day 341--The Last Leg of the Race and Finishing the Race.

Well, we have just about made it to the end.  I am down to three more treatments, and next Tuesday, I will ring that bell in the radiation department to signify the end of radiation, the last leg of this race, and the end of cancer!

I'll apologize ahead of time for the length of this blog.  I feel badly that it has been a month since my last blog, but since we have relocated to Mesa for treatments, we have kept ourselves super busy.  Greg and I both set up offices in separate rooms so we could work remotely.  As each evening approached, we shut down our computers and headed out of the house spending each night with different friends, or with Preston, going to a movie, or eating out.  That has been an important part of keeping our spirits up during these six weeks.  We have really enjoyed connecting with old friends, socializing, and enjoying some of the food and entertainment the big city offers.  And, we are forever grateful to my Aunt Mary for opening her house to us and letting us stay here.

Overall, radiation has gone very well with only a few setbacks or side effect.  I ended my last blog after the first week of radiation when I was developing a rash.  By Monday morning of week two, the rash had spread from my hand and forearm to my upper arm and a large marble-sized hard bump had formed above my elbow which was red and hot.  Research on the Internet suggested either a blood clot or Cellulitis--neither of which were good.  The doctor had the same concerns and wanted to see me right away, so I left work early and we headed to Mesa.  Dr. Grade's PA, Aida, saw me as soon as we arrived.  She ordered labs and an ultrasound of my arm to look for a blood clot.  Both tests came back negative.  With both ruled out, Aida suggested it was a bite of some kind.  She wanted to proceed with radiation, but directed me to start on Benadryl, Advil, and Cortisone cream.  I agreed since the labs showed no infection and the ultrasound showed no clot, but something just didn't add up for me.  If it was a bite, why did it start in the hand and move up to the upper arm instead of the reverse?

Monday through Wednesday nights I did what Aida suggested but by Thursday, the rash persisted and the bump was getting larger and was still hot to the touch.  After radiation I saw Dr. Grade for my weekly appointment.  After examining me, she agreed it probably wasn't a bite, but an infection of some kind.  She said the bump was probably an infected lymph node (I didn't even know there were lymph nodes by your elbow but I guess there are).  Because of the lymphedema, infection wasn't draining from the arm so it began swelling and the rash appeared.  Then the infection landed in the lymph node and began swelling.  As we thought about the possible causes of the infection, we realized it's possible that the weekend I stayed at Preston's to kitty-sit, his new kitten, Waffles, might have left microscopic scratches or a puncture from when I played with her.  Even though there were no visible marks, a cat scratch would explain how it started with the hand.  Because of my lymphedema, any kind of puncture, even microscopic, can be dangerous.  I have been wearing gloves to clean house, wash dishes, and even to work in the yard, but it never occurred to me the kitten would be dangerous.  To treat the infection, Dr. Grade started me on Keflex, an antibiotic I had been on when my toes were infected during my last chemo round.  We figured it would be better by the following week.

As week two ended, we filled the prescription and left for the airport to fly to Boise to meet up with Brooklyn.  It was the weekend she moved into her dorm at Boise State and I wasn't going to miss being there for her.  We had a great evening in Idaho preparing for the move and Friday morning we were up early and heading into the city with two carloads full of Brooklyn's belongings.  My stamina was low, but I was determined to help as much as I could.  Brooklyn's campus apartment is on the fourth floor with only staircase access.  I wasn't sure how many trips up and down the stairs I would make, but I was going to give it my best shot.  She has a great corner apartment that is super spacious with a full kitchen and a nice living room as well as a washer and dryer.  There are four girls who share the space but each has her own room.  Brooklyn shares her bathroom with one girl so it is really an ideal setup.  It didn't take us long to get her set up and by Friday afternoon Brooklyn and I were off to shop for apartment essentials while her dad worked on changing the fuel pump in her truck.  By late afternoon, I was super tired, but hanging in there.

Saturday I had noticed my throat seemed really weird, almost I had a piece of bread lodged in it.  By the afternoon, I was having some trouble swallowing.  It almost felt like I had to gulp to swallow, but it wasn't hurting on the inside like a sore throat would.  Just before we left for dinner, I called my good friend, Diane, who is a nurse, just to pick her brain on if this could be a side effect of the radiation.  She said probably not, but it could be a bad reaction to the antibiotic I had started so she wanted me to call the doctor.  As I explained what I was feeling to the radiologist on call, he was afraid I might be having an anaphylactic reaction to the antibiotic.  He told me to stop taking the antibiotic and go to the emergency room if it got worse or I started to have trouble breathing.  The anaphylactic reaction made sense.  To have that type of reaction, you have to be exposed to the allergen one other time--I took medicine for the first time for my toe infection in July.  Then your body builds up the allergic reaction to it, and the next time you are exposed to it, your body has a bad reaction.  It seemed to make sense.

Sunday we spent the day buying Brooklyn a bike (and teaching her to ride it since she hasn't ridden in years), and seeing some of BSU before we left to see some of the rodeo events for Trina's kiddos.  We ended the night finally meeting Tina, the woman who has cancer and made a video of getting a blue mohawk when her hair started to fall out.  We learned of Tina and the video through our good friend and former neighbor, Gayrene.  She is a counselor at EAC where Tina's son attends college.  Gayrene met Tina in December, just after my diagnosis had become worse.  She told Tina of my story and then shared Tina's video with me.  Before my Pretty in Pink party in February, Brooklyn secretly found Tina in Boise.  She met her and they did a photo shoot together and surprised me with it during the party.  What a small world we share.  It was really nice to meet Tina in person and I was grateful she had befriended Brooklyn.  It gave Brooklyn someone in Idaho close by that she could relate to who was going through a similar situation as I was and therefore made Brooklyn feel more a part of me.  It was intriguing spending a few hours hearing Tina and her husband share their experiences with this horrible disease.

We flew back to Mesa Monday morning and began week three of radiation.  My throat continued to be a challenge but the doctor started me on a different antibiotic for my arm and I figured the lump would go away in a few days.  I saw the doctor for my regular Thursday appointment and questioned the situation with my throat.  I asked her if the radiation could be damaging my throat and she assured me it wasn't.  She said we weren't treating anywhere close to my throat.  I told her I was confused because I thought she had originally said we were treating my upper clavicle lymph nodes.  She looked at her paper and said we weren't.  I left feeling really confused because it seemed in conflict of what I remembered her telling me when we first started.  She had originally told me she would treat the upper lymph nodes because if the cancer were to return, that would be the most likely place since my other lymph nodes were all taken out.  By the time we drove home, Dr. Grade called me and apologized.  She said when she left the room, she was concerned too and went to look up my records again.  She then said she was treating my upper lymph nodes and it was really close to the larynx, which could be causing the discomfort.  I really respected her for calling me.  It set my mind more at peace for the weekend.

On Friday, it was nice to head back to Safford for the Labor Day weekend since we had been away for two weeks in a row.  I have the sweetest neighbors ever.  Gayrene and her daughter Kristi left me cute balloons counting down five done the first week, and now they had a sweet sign with Milkyway bars lining the number 15 for being half way through.  We had a great, relaxing, long, much-needed weekend at home.

When we returned on Tuesday for week four, my throat was still really bothering me.  I had finished the second prescription and it had been five days since I had seen the doctor.  Sue, Dr. Grade's nurse, came to the waiting room to check on several of us.  When I told her my throat was still bad, she was perplexed.  She had never heard of this kind of reaction to radiation for breast cancer, and honestly, she almost seemed frustrated with me.  She took me back to an exam room and paged Dr. Grade saying, "We're going to get to the bottom of this."  When she told me they weren't treating anywhere near my throat, I explained what Dr. Grade had said when she call me the previous week following the appointment.  I finally said, "I'm not making this up.  It is really difficult to swallow," then Sue seemed to soften up a bit knowing I was as frustrated about it as she was.  She assured me we would figure it out.  When Dr. Grade came in, she explained that before coming to MD Anderson where she focused mostly on breasts, she treated many kinds of cancers.  The lump-in-the-throat effect I was experiencing was a common complaint from throat cancer patients and it was likely I was experiencing that same effect.  She showed me how far over the radiation was coming and how high up it was so it was actually crossing  up high by my neck to get the mammary glands since the PET scan had shown there was a tumor there and it couldn't be surgically removed.  She assured me that the lump would go away about two weeks after the radiation treatments ended saying, "I would stake my reputation on it."  As Dr. Grade walked me back to the dressing room, we ran into Sue and Dr. Grade explained what she had shared with me to Sue so she would have a better understanding of the situation.  I left feeling much better.  Finally, someone validated that what I was experiencing was a normal or expected reaction to something, and, it wasn't going to be permanent.

On Wednesday of week four, after radiation, I was taken back to the original room where they did my first mapping.  This time they were planning for my boost.  Boost treatments are the last five treatments that target just the scar area from the original lumpectomy.  For this they start with a CT scan.  Following that, they use what looks like a large, clear, plastic clamp.  They hook the clamp to the table then place a clear, plastic, square paddle over my breast.  With the paddle attached to the clamp, they compress my breast as much as possible squishing it down into my chest.  The point is to flatten the breast so the tumor bed is as close to the surface as possible.  During the boost treatments, they use a different type of radiation, electrons, which are more surface penetrating rather than protons that permeate all the way through the body.  They also use a larger dose of radiation as they are targeting the tissue where the tumor actually rested to make sure any cancerous tissue that might be remaining is killed.  When they were finished doing the boost treatment tagging, I was up to 20 tags on my body.  I had the original black and purple marks, then I had orange marks, and now I had green boost tags.  It was actually funny.  They ran from just above my breast to around the sides and underneath and on my belly and were even on the other side and breast to help with lining me up.

We headed home on Friday after treatment and I went to the office.  On the weekends home, I usually worked Friday afternoons and Monday mornings in the office, which was nice to be face-to-face with my team.  Those were very productive times as we would squeeze as many meetings and project updates into them as possible.

Monday afternoon we returned for week five knowing we would be in Mesa for two weeks in a row again since we had plans with friends on Saturday and a Cardinals game on Sunday.  During week five we were invited to go for a hike in the Pinnacle Peak mountains by our good friend Paul.  I was scared at first; I haven't had much energy and wasn't sure how I would do.  It had been raining for a few days so the temperature was perfect at 82.  When we arrived, I wanted to climb the trail up to the top of the mountain, but by the time we had hiked to the fork in the trail, I knew I couldn't make the climb up so we opted for the lower trail.  I still did pretty well overall and finished the trail, which was the most I have hiked in months.  I was super encouraged and motivated to start my journey to getting back in shape so the next day, we decided to hike with Preston.  This time we hiked by his apartment up the Papago mountains by the Phoenix zoo where Hunt's Tomb is.  I made it to the top and we watched an amazing sunset over the cityscape.  As week five ended, Greg noticed my underarm and under my breast looked almost black and blue.  It was the first physical signs of the radiation we had really seen other than my skin being a little red.  It looked like someone had actually beaten me with a bat.  Greg and I wondered if it was a result of hiking since my arm was rubbing my side.

Last week we also had our last appointment until December with Dr. C, my oncologist.  She told me as soon as my last radiation was finished, I would be starting Arimidex, the pill I will have to take for the next five to ten years.  It is a pill that is an antineoplastic or more precisely, a nonsteroidal aromatase inhibitor.  Basically it inactivates aromatase, which is what converts certain enzymes in women (androstenedione and estrone) into estrogen.  Since my cancer was estrogen fed, I have to keep my body from having any estrogen to keep my cancer from returning.  I had heard some scary things about some of the "after cancer" pills, so I asked Dr. C. what if I didn't take it.  She said I would have a 50% chance of my cancer coming back if I didn't take the pill.  I think I'll take it and deal with any side effects.  Since Arimidex can cause a loss in bone density, I had to have a bone density scan.  I returned to the imaging center where my friend Pam works and where this all began.  It was nice to see her and she loved my hair, which has grown in quite a bit.  The bone density scan was the easiest test I've had yet.  I laid on a table while an arm hovered above me moving from my thighs to my chest.  To test bone density, they test your left hip and you lower spin only.  The technician said that is because those are the first places to break down.  The results of my bone density test came out good as I am not showing any bone density deficiency as of now.  That is great news since most women my age are already in the  osteopenia stage, meaning they have lost bone density but are not yet in full blown osteoporosis.  I was worried since my mother had osteoporosis.   Prior to the bone scan, I also had a mammogram on my left breast.  That was a little scary when the radiologist requested a second scan because he saw something.  My heart dropped at the thought that they were now seeing something in my left breast.  I can't tell you the horror I felt as I waited for the results of the second scan.  A new scan showed what he was seeing was just scar tissue from where my port was.  A huge relief almost brought me to tears.

We enjoyed the weekend activities and the Cardinals game and started on week six, this week.  Kalib and Ernie have been my radiation therapists during this entire journey.  They have been great.  On Tuesday I took them and others at the Cancer Center more Hugs and Kisses, but this time in little glass jars with a ducky on top.  This is because when Kalib and Ernie ask how I'm doing each morning, sometimes I answer "Just ducky" and we all laugh.  It was also to celebrate my "one more week" mark.  They have made each session fun and we always smile and laugh.  They both are excellent and have offered great help throughout this.  I told Kalib I had started hiking last week and he recommended I not hike for now.  He said any friction or sweat can break down the skin even more, so that was probably what had caused the bruising look under my arm.  So we decided to give it a few more weeks before we start walking, even after we return home.

My boost treatments started on Wednesday.  No more holding my breath--though I've become really good at it.  I also got to peel off all of my tags except for the green ones, yay!  With the boost treatments, they squish my breast using the clear paddle and line me up to a led cast that was pour to outline the shape of my tumor bed.  They were able to create the shape based on the CAT scan they did a few weeks ago.  This led mold keeps the higher doses of radiation from penetrating anywhere except exactly where they are directing it on my scar.  The boosts are super simple and super fast compared to the regular treatments.  It takes longer to set me up and line me up than to receive the treatment.  Each day I've gone in this week I can't help but have a huge grin on my face knowing we are almost to the end.

This morning we did notice signs of peeling under my breast.  Dr. Grade said my skin will continue to break down and get worse for about two weeks after treatment, then it will start to repair itself.  She said it actually repairs very quickly, but when we asked about the lake, she insisted no lake water for several weeks until it is completely repaired, so I guess that definitely means lake season is officially over until next year.  I also showed her a rash I have developed in the bend of both of my arms.  She said it was a yeast infection and suggested a topical cream for it.  Then she started to wonder if I didn't have some type of yeast infection attacking my throat as well.  She instructed me to start eating yogurt again and see if it doesn't help my throat.  Who knows, but it does makes sense.  It did start just after a few days on a powerful antibiotic so maybe that's been it all along.  We'll see.

Each day since the start of radiation, Greg has been great.  He has applied Aloe all over the radiation area several times a day, he's repaired my tags as they would start to come off, and he has gone to every treatment with me.  He continues to be my rock and amazing support system.  A few weeks ago he and I headed back up to the infusion floor to see some of the great chemo nurses whom we love.  They were so happy to see us.  We took them goody bags with Hugs and Kisses and told them we missed seeing them but didn't miss being on that floor.  Cheryl and Heather and others were super glad to see us and said it takes a lot of courage to go back there because it is a place that holds tough memories.  Greg and I both agreed, but I'm so glad we went.

So tonight we are packing up our things from my Aunt Mary's house, and moving out of our temporary home over these last six weeks.  Tomorrow we will head home for the weekend after my treatment.  We will come back Monday afternoon, but have decided to get a nice hotel Monday night, the night before our last treatment.  Then, Tuesday morning, sometime around 9 AM I will be finished with my last treatment and go into the radiation waiting room where I will ring the bell as a symbol of my treatment for cancer ending.  We have invited the nurses and technicians from different areas of the cancer center who have meant so much to us as well as our family and friends to help us celebrate as we walk away from this challenging year.  I will finish treatment 346 days after it all began, exactly 19 days short of a year from when this journey and this blog first began.

Greg has arranged for the most amazing culminating event as we end this journey and begin to celebrate life.  On October 6th, I will be on the Cardinals football field during their breast cancer awareness halftime show!  As we approach the one year mark and I reflect back on this horrific journey, I often think about the Cardinals game halftime show a year ago.  In a way, that event saved my life.  It was a strange sensation being at that game last year before I knew I had cancer.  I remember feeling so empathetic towards the women on that field and saying to my friends, "If I ever have breast cancer, I would want to be brave like those women--brave enough to be on that field in front of a huge crowd to celebrate surviving."  The events from that day raised my awareness and made me think twice the next morning when I got out of the shower and felt something a little odd on my breast.  So in a sense, that halftime show saved my life.  So ending this year, my treatment, and this journey where it all started, but actually on the field this time, is going to be an amazing celebration of surviving this Last Leg of the Race and Finishing This Race.

One Week Down, Five and a Half to Go.........

8/18/13--Sunday-Day 309--So Far Radiation Isn't Bothersome, Just Noticeable.

It's Sunday following my first week of radiation and we are back home on a 48 hour furlough.  Yesterday was the first home game of the Cardinal Football Season so we stayed in Mesa to attend Saturday's game against the Cowboys, which, by the way, WE WON!  We have been season ticket holders for eighteen years now and used to really look forward to our trips to Phoenix as protected time we guaranteed with each other.  This weekend, however, staying in Mesa the extra day only delayed our escape back home.

The first week of radiation has gone well.  On Monday, I had a late afternoon appointment so I worked at the office until noon when Greg, Brooklyn and I headed for Mesa.  The evening before, we loaded the car with everything we figured we needed to set up offices at my Aunt Mary's house for the next six weeks.  Greg and I both had super busy work weeks ahead plus, Brooklyn would be flying out on Wednesday morning, I had my four-month gynecology oncologist exam, and we were starting radiation for real.  It was going to be a challenging week, so I was glad we arrived in Mesa with enough time to unload and settle in before heading to the Cancer Center.

I was not looking forward to going in for radiation as the first two simulation sessions had been challenging.  When we arrived at the Cancer Center, Greg and Brooklyn waited in the waiting area as Robbie, the receptionist, greeted me and pushed the button for the automatic door to open.  I went down the hallway and into the dressing room where I put on my gown and waited.  A young lady came to get me this time, and escorted me into the control room where Kaleb asked me to verify my name and birth date.  The three of us then proceeded into the radiation room.  As I went through the vault door, I realized it really wasn't three feet thick after all, but maybe half that size.  And the machine, it didn't have the large CAT scan ring as I had remembered, nor did it have near as many intimidating arms.  In fact, it already looked familiar and much less ominous.

I climbed onto my body mold on the table hoping the back stretches I had started doing were going to keep me from cramping. With my gown pulled down, both arms stretched above my head in arm cradles, and my back in the body mold, Kaleb and his assistant pushed the table up under the machine then adjusted my body until the marks on my skin lined up perfectly with lights being shot from around the room.  Bright red lights with patterns shined on me from the ceiling on both sides of the room and neon green laser-looking lines helped position my body to the exact spot.   When it was just right, Kaleb and his helper both left the room.

I closed my eyes to keep the bright red light out and to relax hoping to keep the cramps at bay.  I focused on staying calm by picturing myself on the shore of Apache Lake at sunset relaxing.  As machines started to move, I opened my eyes.  Though my head was turned sideways to the left, I could see from the corner of my eye that above me was the round machine with metal plates behind glass.  From my research, I knew this was the multi-leaf collimator which is what is used to deliver the radiation and what the big deal behind IMRT is.  As the radiation is delivered, these metal leaves are programed to change shape directing the radiation so higher doses can be precisely delivered to certain areas while minimizing radiation exposure to healthy areas.  On the sides of me, two large flat panel screens moved in close on each side.  These were silver, but shaped like super large flat screen computer monitors.  "When you're ready, take a deep breath and hold it," Kaleb said through the speakers.  As I held my breath, I heard a quiet buzzing noise for about five seconds while the monitors took the x-ray images. "You can breath now," Kaleb said as the two screens and the large round machine, automatically rotated to the right 90 degrees so one screen was now above me and one beneath.  As I held my deep breath once again, more x-rays were taken.  Then there was a long pause.  The table jerked ever so slightly moving probably a millimeter at a time.  I held my breath several more times as more adjustments were made. Soon the screens rotated to the left moving beyond their starting position and pulled away a bit while the collimator moved in closer.  The collimator was large and round.  Behind a glass were what looks like the edges of a bunch of metal plates.  It reminded me of those metal toys that look like tons of small nails and you put your hand on it and the metal nails form a three dimensional shape around your hand.  The collimator sort of looked like that.  Certain plates were opened creating an odd looking shape.

The collimator was now positioned to my left at a 45 degree angle pointing toward the target, my right breast.  After being instructed, I took a deep breath and the collimator began rotating to the right.  The entire machine slowly rotated around my body approaching its 180 degree point underneath me.  While it was moving, I held my breath as long as I could, then gasped for air.  As I gasped for a breath, the machine stopped immediately, just as Kaleb had told me it would.  Through the speaker, he assured me it was okay, instructed me to catch my breath, and when I was ready, to take a deep breath and hold it again so we could finish.  I did and the final few seconds of the radiation beam continued while the machine found its resting place just underneath my right side now.  After a few minutes, it was time to start again.  I took another deep breath and the machine began its journey back around to the top of me. As the collimator moved around my body, the metal leaves moved creating different shapes directing the radiation to certain parts of my body while protecting other parts.  I closed my eyes trying to focus on keeping my breath.  Though I knew it was okay not to hold my breath for the entire rotation, it was now a challenge.  I pretended I was at Apache Lake swimming and wanted to make it under the boat.  That helped.  It kept my mind busy and just as I was about to lose my breath, the machine stopped back in its starting position and I heard Kaleb say, "You can breath now.  That's it.  Stay still until we come in."  And that was it.  It was over.  My first radiation was completed.

As they pulled me out from under the machine, my right arm was hurting where it is numb from the surgery, but that was it.  I wasn't nearly as exhausted, I had no back cramps, and the treatment seemed much shorter.  Wow, I was pleasantly surprised, encouraged, and optimistic.  "I can do this!" I said to Kaleb.  "This is much easier than it was on Friday!"  He laughed, "Easy peesy, I told you."  The whole process had taken about forty minutes.  That was MUCH BETTER than the hour plus the practice sessions had taken.  I returned to the dressing room, got dressed, and, with a much brighter attitude, headed out to where Greg and Brooklyn were waiting.  Greg asked how it went and I told him my right side seemed warm, and I swear I felt the tingling of the energy which had just been forced inside of me, but all in all, I was encouraged that this whole process from start to finish would be just under an hour.

Tuesday's, Wednesday's, and Thursday's treatments went pretty much the same.  Each day I learned a little more as I came prepared with questions for Kaleb.  He's been great, patiently explaining how things work and providing the answers for all of my questions.

On Wednesday, Preston took Brooklyn to the airport to return to Idaho.  We weren't able to go because we had an appointment with Dr. Matt, my gynecologist oncologist that morning.  My tumor markers were down from 19 to 17, which is great.  Anything under 36 is good, so all looks good on that part.

Thursdays after treatment, we met with Dr. Grade, something we will now do every Thursday throughout the treatment.  I saved my medical questions for her.  One thing that had been bothering me was having multiple x-rays done every single day.  Dentist only x-ray your teeth once a year to minimize your exposure to radiation, yet I was having multiple x-rays each day for 30 days?  Dr. Grade assured me that the x-ray was a much smaller dosage which is also why they didn't cover the other parts of my body with a led apron like they do at the dentist.  She said all of the imaging is taken into account when calculating the total amount of radiation exposure I am receiving.  Just like with chemo, you have to trust that the doctors know what they are doing when they are prescribing treatment.  I had to trust that all of the radiation I was receiving was part of the prescribed plan.

On Friday, I learned it was double imaging day.  Once a week, they take an extra set of images to make sure the positioning of my body and the delivery of the radiation beams are still in line.  After the two x-rays are taken with the screens to my sides and then on top and bottom, for the extra x-ray or imaging, now a screen makes a complete arch circling around me while I hold my breath, sort of like a CAT scan you can see moving.  Kaleb said this is just an extra precaution to make sure everything remains in line with the calculations of the IMRT.

So that's the story of radiation so far.  We have started applying the aloe vera as instructed by Dr. Grade.  The only bad side effect so far is my lymphedema in my right hand and arm has really flared up.  My hand is so swollen you can't see my knuckles and it is really aching, and this morning, my forearm was covered with a rash of light red dots.  We will return to Mesa tomorrow after I work at the office for half the day as our Monday radiation appoints are in the late afternoons.  Tuesdays through Fridays I will have morning appointments starting this week, so that will help us settle better into a routine.  This past week my appointments were all in the afternoons because some of the machines were down for mandatory maintenance and they had to fit everyone in on the remaining machines.  As for the actual treatments, being someone who is very in-tune with energy and energy fields, I truly believe I feel the radiation for quite some time after each treatment.  It's like a crazy, bouncy, excited energy field bouncing around on that side of my body.  But all in all, So Far Radiation Isn't Bothersome, Just Noticeable.

Tomorrow Starts Radiation Treatment One of Thirty.......

8/11/13--Sunday--Day 302--Our Celebration Day is Getting Closer

So here we are, the night before the real radiation starts.  It has been a busy two weeks, and really, a busy two months.  Getting school started is always hectic--in fact, it's definitely my busiest time of year at work--but this year things have been extra busy as we are implementing three new major programs in the middle of starting school.  That coupled with being gone in the middle of it all for my port removal and mapping day, plus, not knowing when everything was going to start made it even more challenging.  But I got through it, school started, and here I am about to start the real thing.

After my last post, I started to wonder and worry about what this change in treatment was that happened in the middle of the mapping session.  All I could remember was Dr. Grade coming in and saying she wanted to see if my insurance would approve a different kind of treatment.  Then, once they did, we redid my body mold and everyone said this new treatment would be so much better.  It all happened so fast while I was in the middle of the mapping.  I wasn't even sure what the procedure was called, much less how new it was, what it really meant, and why I suddenly qualified for it.  By the end of the weekend, I was really anxious about "it" but couldn't even begin to research "it" because I didn't even know what "it" was called.

My 12-14 hour working days didn't leave me a minute to spare on Monday, but by Tuesday, I had to make time to call the doctor.  I was going crazy over not knowing while I waited for the call to come start treatment.  At lunch I was able to get in contact with Sue, Dr. Grade's assistant.  I explained to her what had happened during the mapping and how everything changed so fast.  I told her it didn't seem like the right time to ask questions as I was stretched out on the body mold, naked from the waste up while five or six people were tagging and tapping me.  Sue was super sweet and after looking at my chart, assured me the new treatment option wasn't new at all.  It was just different.  It was more protective of surrounding organs.  She said I would be receiving Intensity Modulated Radiation Therapy (IMRT) instead of the traditional 3 Dimensional (3D) Radiation Therapy.  She assured me this was really much better and would reduce the amount of time I would be on the radiation table, but said she would have Dr. Grade call me to better explain the treatment choice.

By early evening Dr. Grade called.  She was understanding of my confusion and patient in explaining IMRT.  First, she clarified this was not a new treatment as it has been used for quite some time over the last decade.  She also assured me I would be receiving the exact same dosage at the exact same intensity as 3D radiation.  Then she said something that made complete sense to me and put it all in perspective.  She said, "IMRT is a more advanced technology.  Basically, it is a different software approach."  She explained that 3D radiation uses a beam of radiation to treat one field at a time.  IMRT is a continual beam which moves all around you to treat all of the fields while turning on and off to avoid areas not being treated.  "If it's more technologically advanced, why isn't it used on everyone instead of 3D," I asked.  The answer--it's more expensive so many time insurance companies won't pay for it because it produces the same results, just more safely.  It is less dangerous on the surrounding tissue and organs.  She said that is why IMRT is not usually used to treat breast cancer, and when it is, it is more likely approved for left side breast cancer, to protect the heart, verses right side, like mine.   So again, why did mine get approved I asked.  She said I was approved because of the mammary gland tumor which could not be removed.  She said the mammary glands are much deeper than the lymph nodes so delivering radiation so deep can be tricky.  The advanced technology of IMRT will make that easier to pinpoint and reach while protecting the vital organs and tissue around the mammary glands.  So while I still didn't really understand how IMRT was going to work exactly, I at least had a starting point to do some research and learn.  The other information she gave me, which surprised me, is that she wouldn't be treating the areas where the Level 1 lymph nodes or Level 2 axillary lymph nodes were removed, but she would be treating the Level 3 axillary lymph nodes that were left in place.  She said studies have shown if cancer returns in the lymph system, it usually returns to the area above where it first was, not in the spot where the lymph nodes were removed.  Plus, radiation where the lymph nodes were already taken out increases the risk of more severe lymphedema.  She ended by saying my plan was almost complete.  It would be sent to Houston for review, but she anticipated us being able to complete the imaging run on Friday and start the real radiation on Monday.

When I got off the phone, I felt lucky that everything had fallen in place as it had.  It was my concerned questions when Dr. Grade walked in the room during the mapping session where I wanted to make sure she was going to cover my mammary gland with the radiation that had set this all into play.  Because of the mammary gland tumor, I was going to receive a more technologically advanced, more precise, and more safe type of radiation.  I was once again grateful for the doctors at MD Anderson, and thankful for my insurance allowing this.

Wednesday went by with no phone call, but Thursday, just before noon I received my call from radiology scheduling me to come in the next day for the imaging run.  This is where they run you through the radiation plan, but instead of delivering radiation, they take images of where the radiation would hit inside of your body and make sure everything lines up.  My appointment was set for  1:20.  Unfortunately, Greg had had just as difficult of a week as I had.  He had been working non-stop for five days trying to fix one of his trucks at the delivery business.  After a final attempt, the engine seized once again, and it was done.  So Greg had to be on his way to Amarillo, Texas in the next couple of days to buy a truck and get it back before Monday.  We decided I would go to the imaging appointment by myself, so he and Brooklyn left Thursday afternoon for Texas, and Friday, after working a couple of hours, I left for Mesa for the first time alone.

When I arrived at MD Anderson Cancer Center, I stopped to say "hi" to the ladies in the lab showing them where my port had been removed.  They were happy to hear I was starting radiation, the last leg of this journey.  Radiology is on the first floor just around the corner from the lab.  When I checked in, the receptionist pushed a button and the door opened automatically as he instructed me to go on back.  I must have looked a little confused because he immediately asked if I knew what to do.  I told him I really didn't as this was my first time.  He told me to walk down the hall and the changing rooms would be on my right so I proceeded through the door.

The waiting area and changing rooms were where I had waited to be taken back for my mapping.  You go into one of the changing rooms, lock your clothes and personal belongings in a locker, put a hospital gown on, and wait in the women's waiting room until they call you back.  A nice woman volunteer offered to get me something to drink as I waited and then sat and chatted with me until the radiologist came to get me.  He introduced himself as Earnest and walked me to a room different than where the mapping and CAT scan had been done.  On the way, he stopped and showed me the control area where he and his partner Kalib would be controlling the scanning. He showed me the video monitors where they would be able to see me the whole time as well as hear me.  He then lead me through what looked like the largest vault door you can image.  It must have been three feet thick.  From there we walked down a hallway with backlit pictures of nature scenes from floor to ceiling giving the impression we might be looking outside of this cave-like hallway.  Then, as we rounded the corner, there was an ominous machine dominating the room.  The hard, bench-like table with my foam-hardened body mold lay in the center of a crazy concoction of high tech tunnels, arms, and panels.  At the top was the round CAT scan donut machine, but in front of that were what looked like numerous arms with round and square shaped screens.

Earnest and Kalib where both very polite and super nice explaining first that they were going to have to remove my gown and I would be bare-chested throughout the treatment as they needed to line up the taped marks with the lights from the machines.  They carefully positioned my arms, my legs, my hips trying to get my body in the same position so that all of the marks lined up with the lights from the machines.  There I was, once again, lying flat on my back with both arms stretched above my head, my right side pushed up, my hips twisted, my head to the side and my chin up.  Why is it that I can goes days and even weeks without an itch, but the minute I am in a position I'm supposed to hold still in, everything itches.  Besides that, I began to have horrible back cramps.  The first one hurt so badly that I had to raise my right leg to relieve the pain causing them to have to readjust me again.  They tapped a box on my tummy so they could monitor my breathing.  There were two different machines above me moving up and down and several different arms on the sides of me.  All of the arms rotated 360 degrees completely around me.  Both men left the room before any of the equipment moved.  They would speak to me through a speaker telling me, "when you're ready, take a deep breath and hold it.................you can breath normally now."   They must have said that fifty times during the next hour.  In between, they would come in and out of the room adjusting my body more, moving the table more, making everything line up perfectly.  At one point, the cramp in my back became so intense, I had to have one of them come in the room and rub it or I was surely going to move to relieve the pain.

It was well over an hour before we were finished.  When they finished, they had to make even more marks and tape them as the previous ones didn't seem to line up exactly.  Now I had both black and red taped marks all over my torso totaling nine now I think.  When it was all over, my right arm was numb and swollen, my back was sore, and  I felt like I had been hit by a train.  I actually sat in the parking lot for fifteen minutes exhausted before I could drive.  It is hard to explain, but holding that difficult of a position makes your muscles all tense up.  Holding your muscles all over your body tight like that for over an hour is absolutely exhausting, and everything ends up being sore.  Imagine you get one of those night time cramps in your calve or foot that cause you to jump out of bed and stretch it out, but you have to lay perfectly still instead.  My body just hurt.  I drove to Preston's apartment, where I was kitty sitting for the night while he was away, and immediately laid down and fell asleep for an hour.

Since Friday, I've done a little more research on IMRT which has helped in my understanding of how the machines encircling me actually work as compared to 3D radiation.  It has also brought up more questions and a few more fears.  Honestly, lying on that table wasn't just physically painful--it was scary.  Having all of this equipment move all around you, come in close to you, move back out from you, and move in every direction is intimidating and scary.  It brings everything to reality as you realize these machines are going to be administering radiation into your body.  All I can say is I thought radiation was going to be laying still, but comfortably, on a table and being run through a CAT scan machine.  I was completely wrong.  So far I really don't like the two sessions I've gone through.  Kalib assured me that when they are actually running the program to administer the radiation, it should be about twenty minutes shorter than what we had just simulated.  I hope so.  I am going to try to do some back strengthening exercises as well as work on stretching my back to see if it will help relieve the soreness and cramping.  Last time I sang songs inside my head and tried to displace myself to being at Apache Lake just to keep my mind off my body and the intimidating machines as they encircled me.

I was lucky enough to get the treatments scheduled at the times I requested.  Monday treatment will be late in the afternoon so I can work in person here at my office until noon then head to Mesa.  Tuesday through Friday treatments will be early mornings so I can get back to my Aunt Mary's where we are staying and get to work.  Plus, Fridays I'll be on the road home early.  So most weeks we will be  staying in Mesa four nights and back home over the weekend for three nights.  If all goes as anticipated, my 30 treatments will be over Sept. 24th, which means our Celebration Day is Getting Closer.