Oh the uncertainty of it all

     I saw my oncologist today to get the test results from the CT scan and ultrasound.  The results were surprising.  Although there is a lymph node that is enlarged on the left side, there are actually several on the right side!  I can't feel them like I can the one on the left but apparently they are there.  Is it the cancer coming back to take the breast it was previously denied?  Or is it another type of cancer?  Or maybe nothing?  Luckily my tumor markers are not elevated.  For those of you unfamiliar with cancer terminology, tumor markers are substances that are produced by cancer or by other cells of the body in response to cancer or certain benign (noncancerous) conditions. Most tumor markers are made by normal cells as well as by cancer cells; however, they are produced at much higher levels in cancerous conditions.  So what does this mean?  They don't know!!!  It could be a simple case of a viral infection causing inflammation of the nodes or it can be a recurrence.  I am officially now in "monitoring status" meaning we keep an eye on them and hope they do not grow!  I have to see my oncologist again in a month for more poking and prodding.
     Hannah has taken a positive position on this as it has not been termed a recurrence.  I suppose that is the best way to treat it but I hate the uncertainty.  I don't know how to deal with uncertainty.  How do I "fight" this?  I knew how to fight the last lump - remove it and pump my body full of drugs meant to kill it.  But what do I do about this situation?  I suppose the answer is to go on living and doing all the things I have been doing, except maybe not so many tequila shots?  I hate living with the general feeling of uncertainty about what tomorrow will bring. Having cancer makes me more aware of uncertainties because I never expected to get cancer in the first damn place. I have found myself thinking, "If I can get cancer, then what the hell else can happen?" I try not to let this feeling of uncertainty take over my daily life but often it does.  I really don't like going to that dark place but sometimes I can't help it.
     Before I got cancer, I was under the illusion that I had things under control. Oh sure, there were job issues and bills and all that, but all in all, I was coping pretty well. And then that sense of control is shattered, and I don't think it ever really comes back. It is replaced by uncertainty in almost everything. How long will I live? Did the chemo work? What will my next scans show? Will it spread? Will it come back? It seems that almost nothing is certain, except that my life has been torn to shreds and tossed in the air like confetti.  I think most cancer patients don't ever think it's really gone. It's just hiding, waiting to jump out and scare us when we least expect it. Will I be able to resume my old life? To rebuild my battered body? I don't know.  But I do know this disease has changed me dramatically in so many ways. I am a different person. Hopefully a better person.

I made it to 50!

Whew!  I made it to my 50th birthday.  A few years back I wasn't sure I would.  I celebrated my birthday by spending the weekend in my hometown of Pontiac, IL with one of my best friends - Sharon.  We attended a birthday party thrown by our high school friend, Dan, who was also turning 50.  It was fun riding around town in Sharon's convertible, checking out the old haunts like Mario's Pizza and Bob & Ringo's.  It was the perfect way to celebrate.  I had considered having a big blowout for my 50th but when I thought about it I decided that I prefered something more low key.  Once you are diagnosed with cancer, things you once considered important (like big birthday bashes) are no longer so important.  

I welcome my birthday--the day I get to add another candle to the cake--not only for my years on this earth, but also for my years as a cancer survivor.  After all, the only way to avoid growing old is dying young. I am trying to avoid joining that club!  Lets face it, we've all survived something: cancer, a bad break-up, the death of a loved one, a failed career and we're still here on this ridiculously fabulous planet for yet another year.  Isn't that a miracle?   Maybe one day, someone will have a cure for cancer and cellulite. Wouldn't that be great? Talk about having your birthday cake and eating it, too! 
    
Now don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm doing back flips about getting:

A. Crow's Feet
B. A Wrinkled Neck
C. Chicken Wings
D. Saggy BoobsE. Grey Hair
F. All of the Above
 

CORRECT ANSWER: F

But I do intend to get so old that I do end up wrinkled and gray and stooped.  I'll whack people with my cane and wander around my nursing home yelling, "Move bitches" and "Bring the 'Paign"!  Who would like to join me there?

Just when I thought it was safe to go back into the water

     Just as I try to forget about cancer and get on with life, I get slapped up side the head with a vicious reminder.  I found a small lump in my left collar bone area about 10 days ago.  That means an ultrasound, a CT scan and a biopsy.  Now, it could be absolutely nothing, but it has to be checked out.  Seems once a cancer patent, always a cancer patient.  I won't repeat what I exclaimed when I found the lump as it was wholly inappropriate and I'm sure I made some of the words up!  I refuse to go into "freak out" mode until we know exactly what we are dealing with.  I learned that the collarbone area near the throat is a very common area for recurrence, which may be why my oncologist had a worried look on his face.
     As my four year cancerversary approaches, I was feeling pretty smug.  I had kicked cancer's ass and really hadn't given it much thought lately.  But I think cancer hates to be ignored and decided that I wasn't taking it seriously enough.  So it had to show me who is in charge.  I've always said that I don't think I give enough in the fight against cancer, so maybe it is time to rethink that.  As I ponder how I ended up here, I now know that real life brings the unplanned and the unthinkable.  Real life challenges you to grow, to become more than you were. Real life is not safe.  It certainly hasn’t been boring, either.
     My birthday will soon be here and I plan to celebrate with some high school friends.  Back in high school I never imagined the trials and traumas that life would bring.  Back then, I never could have imagined the me I have become by struggling through those things.  I never knew I could take so many hits and keep getting back up.  There is something appealing about a simple, boring life but alas, it is not to be.  I will soon know if the fight is on again.

Letter to Alicia

The Grim Reaper entered our lives yet again.  He managed to slip in unexpectedly and do the unthinkable--take Alicia from us.  On Tuesday, December 18, 2012 we learned she was no longer with us.  This is what I need to her to know:

Dear Lish-
              My heart hurts.  I mean physically hurts, like someone punched me square in the middle of it so hard that I'm sure there is a hole there.  I can't tell you how many times in the past 5 days I've picked up the phone to send you a text message.  Then I realize I can't and the pain washes over me in engulfing waves that makes it hard to breathe.  After the cancer I had promised myself to never let things go unsaid.  I take some comfort in knowing that we didn't.  The last few years have been rough and we didn't get to see you as often as I would have liked but at least we talked often, whether it was on the phone, via text or on facebook.  I'm glad you knew you were loved.  I don't know why it was your time to leave us but what I do know is that we will go on.  Each of us will do it in our own way, missing you while surrounding your children with love and sweet memories of their mother.  You have entrusted us to care for these three precious souls, leaving pieces of yourself behind in them.  We won't let you down.
     I loved that as a little girl we would ride in the truck, singing at the top of our lungs to Knock Three Times by Tony Orlando and Dawn.  You were about the only one who would listen to me sing in my awful, got-kicked-out-of-the-church-choir voice and not tell me just how terrible it truly was.  You didn't care how bad it sounded, you just let it flow.  I couldn't help but appreciate such acceptance.  Don't get me wrong, you know it wasn't always easy in the beginning but I accepted that you and your dad were a package deal.  And we did manage to become a family.  I knew we had made it when you didn't hesitate to ask me those hard questions in public, so everyone could hear my answer.  Questions like, If my mama's black and my daddy's white, does that make me an Oreo?  I wanted to throttle you on the spot there in the grocery store. 
     I loved your fearlessness.  Like when you were four or five and joined the band Gator Alley on stage at the concert in Hessel Park to sing Country Club.  The lead singer asked if anyone wanted to come up and sing and like a shot you were up on that stage.  You knew all the words, too.  Even made the local paper.  You were always such a ham; you could always make me laugh even when you weren't trying.  Like when you were six and Aunt Bert and I took you and your 6 month old sister (Hannah) to Nick's Park in Monticello; you decided to go down the slide even after I warned you it was hot.  I'm sure you shocked some of the parents when you yelled, "Aunt Bert, hot butt" clear across the park.  I think I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.  Someday I will share those memories with your children so they will always know you the way I knew you.
     You were so excited about being a big sister.  You and Hannah butted heads so much because you both thought you were in charge.  It was nice to watch your sisterly relationship develop over time.  I think Hannah said it best with the poem she wrote for your memorial service:
                                                          
Alicia's Poem

I didn't always know
my sister meant the world to me.
It took us growing older
for both of us to see.

The times we spent together
were precious to us all.
We weren't with each other much
but we would always call.

When she became a mother
I loved her family.
Now quickly she is gone from us
I only have the memory. 

Of how much I loved my sister
And what she meant to me.

     I hoped you liked that so many of your dad's relatives ended up at Aunt Anne's house after your memorial service just to be together.  We know you were skipping the CD during the memorial service at the church because we played it the night before and it was just fine.  Way to make your presence known.  I said to Hannah, just as Bobby was saying to his mom, "That's Alicia!"  I laughed through the tears when it happened.  At Aunt Anne's as we watched the DVD with pictures of you, the kids and the families (both yours and Bobby's), I could feel you smiling.  We cried, we laughed, we reminisced and just enjoyed being together.  No drama, no fighting, just being.  And then last night after we returned home from Missouri, I dreamed of angels and tinkerbells.  I was in a beautiful, lush, green meadow running through the sunshine while they circled my head.  I felt no fear and no pain, only a calm peacefulness.  I think that was your way of comforting me and reminding me of our connection.  I will forever think of Alicia's meadow and try to always carry that feeling with me. 
     I'm not really sure how one goes on after such a devastating loss but I'll do the best I can.  I draw strength from Hannah as well as give strength to Hannah.  I try to help your dad connect the dots as he works to process this.  And when I want to yell at him to stop being so damn annoying, I will remember the patience and understanding you always displayed with him.  But I am counting on you to send me a sign whenever I need it.  I love you and will forever miss you. 

Love,
Mom2

R.I.P. Robert

     For those of you who don't already know, Robert Reese, chief meteorologist for WCIA TV died Tuesday night at a Chicago hospital.  He had been battling pneumonia and cancer.  I have to say that I am more than a little freaked out from the news.  Now, Robert and I were not fast friends.  We only saw each other occasionally at the Oncology Department at Christie Clinic.  We got drafted into a club no one wants to be in.  I admired his grace and courage as he fought his fight.  He always had a smile for you and waited his turn along with the rest of us.  Hanging out in the waiting area could be quite stressful.  We tried to keep it light, discussing mundane things like weather and current events.  As you can imagine, weather discussions with a meteorologist can be quite fun.  I  think it would have been easy for him to use his celebrity status to get in and out faster but he didn't.  He knew all too well that cancer didn't care about his "status". 
     I think I am freaked out because we are close in age and the last time I saw him, he looked good and said he was feeling great.  It just goes to show that you can look good on the outside while your insides are betraying you.  I am fortunate to have recently celebrated my 3rd cancerversary.  I don't spend much time thinking about cancer until it sneaks up on me and knocks me up side the head with news such as this.  It scares me to think it could happen to me as well.  That coupled with the research that my type of cancer is aggressive and does not have the best survival rate sends me into a tail spin.  HER2-positive breast cancers tend to be more aggressive than other types of breast cancer.  They're also less responsive to hormone treatment.  Now, I have always known these facts but have chosen not to dwell on them.  That is until I am forced to face them. 
     I can't help but wonder why some of us continue to survive while others don't.  Survivor's guilt rears its ugly head.  In cases of chronic illness, this guilt can occur after the death of a peer who faced a similar diagnosis.  By definition, there is an implied comparison with people who have endured similar ordeals.  Survivor guilt can help to find meaning and make sense out of the experience.  It can help to cope with the helplessness and powerlessness of being in a life-threatening situation without the ability to save yourself or others.  It can co-exist with other responses, such as relief and gratitude, even being prompted by them. Logic has little or no impact on guilt and when I find myself comparing my situation to others, I have to remind myself that every person's cancer is different and that I am winning this battle.

Happy Birthday To Me

Ok, another birthday under my belt and another year cancer free. Can I call myself "cancer free"? I guess I can call myself  anything I damn well please. I celebrate each birthday because I don't know what the future holds but I do know that today I am still alive and that is the best cause for celebration. Apparently, cancer free is a relative term because no one really knows if they are cancer free for many, many years. The reason is that cancer cells are microscopic and hide out in the body for an undetermined amount of time and than reappear months or years later. However, the longer one goes without the cancer recurring, the more likely that they are that it will not relapse, but alas, there are no guarantees. According to the National Cancer Institute, the five-year survival rate for non-metastatic breast cancer (breast cancer that has not spread beyond the breast) is 80%. Newspapers and television usually translate that to, "If you've survived for five years, you're cancer-free." This is a bit misleading. It's true that during the first five years, the risk of recurrence is highest. But breast cancer can recur even after five years. The important point to know is that the more time passes, the lower the risk of recurrence becomes.

It's hard to talk about being a breast cancer survivor, because there is still no cure. My doctor may say that I am in remission. Or that I am NED - No Evidence of Disease. The National Cancer Institute defines a cancer survivor this way: "An individual is considered a cancer survivor from the time of diagnosis, through the balance of his or her life." A recent poll asked, "When Do You Become a Breast Cancer Survivor?" The options were: at diagnosis, after surgery, at the end of treatment, after your 5-year checkup, or whenever you say you are a survivor. More than half of all responses favored the idea that you are a survivor when you say you are - not based on the opinion of others, not measured by medical milestones, not codified by your culture - but based solely on your own declaration. I started surviving the minute I was diagnosed and while the term survivor is great, I feel I become a warrior. I went to war and won. Hear that CANCER, I WON!!!

Letter to Hannah

 Dear Hannah-

                         I hope you know what a huge milestone today is for both of us. You, because you are finished with high school and moving on to bigger and better things. Me, because I have met that first milestone I set when I learned I had cancer-seeing you graduate from High School. I am so very proud of you and love you more than anything else in this world.

I previously wrote this: I remember sitting in the doctor's office as the surgeon said those dreaded words, "You have cancer". I felt like I stepped into the middle of a silent hurricane. There was a roar and a rage that spun my life in a direction I had never anticipated. When you are told you have cancer, it amounts to being given a death sentence. All sorts of crazy thoughts run through your head. Mine were "Will I live long enough to see my daughter graduate High School? Graduate College? Get married? Watch my grandchildren grow up?". Next you realize that you have just set milestones to meet. Then you dive right into the self-pity. When you finally come up for air, you prepare for your recommended treatment. Then you vow to fight the cancer with all you've got and set out on your survivor's journey. And it can be a tough one. Your safety, security and optimism about your life and the future is shaken. The world is revealed as unfair. And with those three little words, I became a breast cancer survivor. 

They say that when you face death, your life flashes before your eyes. I guess I chose to focus on the important things in my life. Which brings us to today. I am so sorry that your family members can't be counted on. You know that Grandma Martha would have been yelling the loudest and is probably throwing a raucous party in heaven, celebrating your achievement. I'm sorry that the father you knew and loved so much managed to scramble his brain and morph into a whole different person that is hard to love. He really is proud of you, he just doesn't know how to express it anymore. I'm sorry that the breast cancer almost deprived me of this moment. But it didn't and I'm planning to be around for all those other personal milestones I set. 

I know that you felt lost in the shuffle after your dad's accident. But I knew that there were plenty of people to take care of you, so I didn't worry. Then, just as I thought we were getting back on track, Cancer reared it's ugly head. And I focused totally and completely on myself. Please know that you are my priority and I am here for you. It is my greatest desire to see you succeed and do great things for the world. I love you.

        

                                                                                                                                                        ~Mom

My pet peeve

Last night, upon hearing from a friend that she just lost a very good friend to cancer, I reflected upon my own situation. I recognize that I am one of the "lucky" ones. I beat cancer and continue to be healthy but realize that cancer can rear its ugly head again at any time. I sometimes feel like I live my life "on guard", just waiting for the unthinkable to happen again. Knowing that everyday people die from this disease, my pet peeve is when a cancer survivor says that cancer was a gift. I understand that (in an odd way) it can feel like that. I do acknowledge that many women, during and after diagnosis, dig deep inside themselves to find an amazing strength to become much stronger than they ever thought they could be. But I will never agree with that statement because it certainly never felt like that to me. Survivors are often perceived as courageous, partially because they are, and partially because they had to be. When you are given that kind of news it is an eyeball to eyeball with death moment, and most of us suit up with all of the strength we can muster and walk head first into treatment. I actually envisioned myself putting on a suit of armor, grabbing a sword & shield and heading off into battle.

But while you are already questioning every decision you are making, a celebrity like Suzanne Sommers releases a book suggesting that chemo is a pharmaceutical conspiracy. Maybe, but it's the best thing we have going at this point. Sadly, treatment doesn't always work and cancer takes lives. I have made my peace with that but decided to live my life to the fullest extent possible, just in case. I don't hesitate to try anything, whether it be a new sport (roller derby), food (crawfish etouffe) or a new job (working with teen parents) because life is to be lived. That old adage, "I'll sleep when I'm dead" takes on a whole new meaning as I push myself to prove it's true. That reminds me of Warren Zevon's song I'll Sleep When I'm Dead:

So much to do, there's plenty on the farm

I'll sleep when I'm dead

Saturday night I like to raise a little harm

I'll sleep when I'm dead

I'm drinking heartbreak motor oil and Bombay gin

I'll sleep when I'm dead

Straight from the bottle, twisted again

I'll sleep when I'm dead

Well, I take this medicine as prescribed

I'll sleep when I'm dead

It don't matter if I get a little tired

I'll sleep when I'm dead

I've got a .38 special up on the shelf

I'll sleep when I'm dead

If I start acting stupid

I'll shoot myself

I'll sleep when I'm dead

So much to do, there's plenty on the farm

I'll sleep when I'm dead

Saturday night I like to raise a little harm

I'll sleep when I'm dead

The song contains Zevon's trademark cynicism and morbid fascination. It features a man refusing to rest from his damned deeds with the note that he'll sleep when he's dead. The song suggests that with life so short and with only so many Saturday nights to "raise a little harm" there is no time for sleep. It also notes that if he stops being able to keep up his act and starts "acting stupid" that he'll shoot himself. I think it has become my personal anthem!

Life is good!

A big hello to everyone out there. I know it's been a while since I wrote, but as you know, life happens. So, what have I been up to? I have been incredibly busy with Community Green as we opened our second location today! We now have a second shop in Mahomet, IL. Today was the grand opening and it was extremely successful. Urbana had a good opening but Mahomet had a fabulous opening. We ended up opening up early as we had so much interest in our shop! We got lots of positive comments.

And even better, I was offered a job yesterday!!! I will be joining the team at Teen Parenting Service Network to provide individual case consultation for service providers regarding policy and procedure, resources and client issues of placement, education, clinical needs, etc. while protecting teen parents rights. They were extremely interested in my domestic violence background and impressed with my work on the Illinois Certified Domestic Violence Professionals Board. They think I have a lot to offer. And, since it's only 20 hours a week, I can still work with Community Green!!!

In February, I passed my roller derby skills test for the third time (Yay) and continue to skate for The 'Paign. I'm such a maniac when I take that test, throwing myself to the floor during the "falls" portion. But I was actually tamer this go round...still nervous but tamer. You see, there's quite the long laundry list of skills one must be proficient at in order to become and/or remain a derby girl. They have become almost second nature by now since we continually practice them. So, I'm not sure why I freak out about it.

Last weekend, I attended the C4YW conference in New Orleans. C4YW, co-hosted by Living Beyond Breast Cancer and Young Survival Coalition, and generously supported by Lead Sponsor Susan G. Komen for the Cure® is the only international conference dedicated to the issues of young women affected by breast cancer and those who love and care for them. It was my first visit to New Orleans and Bourbon Street. I had a blast (Any of my Facebook friends can attest to that!). The conference was great, too. I learned a lot and made some great new friends. I even tried belly dancing and authentic creole cuisine!

So, knock on wood that my good fortune continues!

Rudderless in a sea of uncertainty

Tomorrow brings a follow-up appointment with the oncologist. These appointments are important because as a cancer survivor, I live with heightened risks. But the last place I want to be is the Oncology Department. It's like returning to the scene of the crime. So the night before said appointments my mind begins to race and my anxiety ramps up. Crazy thoughts run rampant. Unfortunately, fear of recurrence is an unwanted yet inescapable reality. It has been described as sort of like having Muzak playing ever so softly in your head all the time. After a while you get used to it, but you never forget it's there. One of the first thing a cancer survivor realizes is that cancer is a chronic condition. Remission doesn't come with a money back guarantee and cancer hates to lose. Just when you think you've won the fight, it can rear its ugly head again. I worry about having to go through treatment again, suffering the side effects of chemo and putting my life on hold for the second time. Wherever will the strength and willpower to go through it all over again come from? Can I outwit death yet again?

The most frustrating aspect of the fear of recurrence is that it can overshadow my view of the future. Sometimes I feel rudderless in a sea of uncertainty. Cancer has lit the wick on my sense of mortality. If I'm living on borrowed time, investing in the future is futile. But approaching it that way means cancer wins and I cannot accept that. Cancer has managed to rearrange my priorities, screw with my career, and shift my outlook on life. But since I'm not very adept at "playing the victim", I guess I'll just have to play the hand I've been dealt. I'm just not exactly sure how life should look. After my ex-husband's recent death, I want to make sure my life counts. But then again, will it really matter 100 years from now?

And today's tarot card was the Five of Pentacles. This card represents the dark night of the soul, when you must stumble around in the darkness because you can no longer see the light shining within you. Often, during times like this, salvation is not far away, but being so preoccupied with your material problems means you cannot see it. But it also suggests that my power today lies in defiance. I am willing to reject the sure thing or accept excommunication to try to make it on my own rather than endure the status quo or submit to conditions that assume I am invisible. I will accept responsibility for the difficulties ahead and will not seek pity for having chosen against the grain. I am empowered by mutual support and my assets are self-worth, hope, and pride. (See, not a victim!)

Obsessing About Death

I'm feeling a little out of sorts tonight. Ever since I learned of my ex-husband's passing, I've been contemplating death a lot. (I'm pretty obsessed with it anyway and Paul's death certainly didn't lessen that obsession!) So I wonder, why do some terminally ill patients furiously fight to live even in the face of poor survival odds, trading whatever quality of time they may have left for painful or even risky treatments that have a high probability of failure? And why do others view death as a very gentle and normal life process? I suppose the answers are as numerous as the individual patients themselves. Researchers say that a person’s age, religious belief and life experiences all contribute to how well that patient copes with a terminal diagnosis and can even determine the will to survive. Knowing how freaked out people get when I talk or write about death, I recognize that we live in a culture where nobody talks about dying, so patients have a sense that the reason nurses and doctors won’t talk about it is that dying must be too horrible to even think about. Am I determined to try to live no matter how terrible my suffering may become? Abso-fu**ing-lutely! I will not go quietly into that goodnight!!! It is about surviving.

Leaving my family and friends with positive memories of how I conducted my battle against breast cancer is a big concern. At times during my treatment, I was in pain and fairly sure I was dying. All my life I’ve tried to protect my family from harm. I found it more painful for me to watch them watch me than the actual pain I felt from treatment. Should I lose this battle, I want them to remember me as a fighter, not a quitter. That is exactly why roller derby entered my life. I wasn't ready to give up and I had to find a way to make myself stronger. Having cancer has given me courage and freedom to speak my mind; I don’t mince words. If I feel something, I say it because I might not get a second chance to say what I need to say. If I die tomorrow, I hope I’m not leaving anything unsaid or undone.

Last week I wrote "I hope to be a whole person, one who loves, accepts, serves, rejoices and opens up to others honestly and without hesitation. Then I might be someone worth knowing. That will be a life well-lived. That's really all I want." Despite my cancer, I consider myself lucky. I think I've lived a good life—the best I know how. But I am not ready for that final journey. And as the 2012 roller derby season is set to begin, I will remain strong and continue to beat cancer!

Death of an ex

Today I learned that my ex-husband had died. An email from my friend Karen informed me of this fact. It said: "I am very sorry to hear about Paul's death. I know this must be a difficult time for you, even though you have been divorced for many years. He was still a part of your life. Anyway, I'm here for you." My first thought, WTF? I didn't see his obituary in the paper and I read those religiously (It's a weird obsession I have). I then checked our hometown paper - still nothing. So, I googled him and up it popped - an obituary from Duffy-Baier-Snedecor Funeral Home in Odell. It says he died at home in Urbana, after an extended illness. So why no obituary? No matter what our history, I think he at least deserves an obituary. I'm not sure what I am supposed to feel or what I am supposed to do. We've been divorced for 22 years, after only being married 18 months. Yet I found myself staring at his obituary, near tears, wondering why it was hitting me so hard. After talking with a few friends, I realized that I am sorry for how his life turned out - no one cared enough to write an obituary. While Paul's death resurrected my fear that no one will miss me when I am gone, I know that I am blessed with good friends who love me and would miss me. I am lucky.

Two years ago I wrote a blog entry about a life well lived and I quote, "But I remind myself of the profound truth I have discovered -- it's how I live my life that matters. I have spent these past few months with cancer looking for its higher purpose. I don’t profess to have some cosmic understanding of that, but every day I see evidence of the opportunities it opens to me. Sometimes I feel like I'm all dressed up with no where to go. I walk the tightrope between maintaining hope that I will live to a ripe old age and living in the moment. I have every reason to be filled with hope. I am fairly sure that I will be able to face wherever this journey takes me. I hope to be a whole person, one who loves, accepts, serves, rejoices and opens up to others honestly and without hesitation. Then I might be someone worth knowing. That will be a life well-lived." That's really all I want.

I am sorry that there was so much rancor between us at the end of our marriage and long after the divorce. I am sorry that I didn't apologize to him for my part in the downfall of our marriage. I am sorry that I never returned the egg plate he so badly wanted (and was awarded) in our divorce settlement. I am sorry his life didn't turn out the way he had hoped. May he rest in peace.

The Christmas Gift

Have you ever had life kick you in the ass to remind you that your life isn't so bad? That happened to me today. I've been in a terrible funk the last few days because I didn't get a job I really, really wanted. It's been "Merry F***ing Christmas, Life sucks" since I got the news. Then, tonight as we were closing the shop, a customer we have known for the past 7 months, who is battling cancer, stopped in because she was in need and felt she had nowhere else to turn. She was just informed that she has 6 months to live and that this will be her last Christmas. She had no gas, no medicine and no presents for her grandchildren. Community Green opened the entire shop to her and told her to shop for whatever she wanted/needed. This generous woman makes baby blankets for children's hospitals and we had previously donated material to her to assist in her project. Tonight we provided her money for gas and medicine, Christmas gifts & decorations, along with a bag full of material for her blanket project. She said she just wants to spend the time she has left making baby blankets. With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I suddenly felt very ashamed of my whining and bad attitude. I should consider myself extremely fortunate as I have my health as well as good friends and family.

Ironically, the tarot card of the day on Thursday (when I received what I call the "Fuck you very much & by the way you suck" rejection letter) was the World card. The World could be thought of as a time of rest, the time between death and life where the soul awaits reincarnation in the material world and - for the briefest of periods - becomes one with the universe from which it came. All the lessons learned have been put to use. All the tasks accomplished have born fruit and brought prosperity. Every cause has had its effects and all of the diverse threads of effects have been woven into a tapestry of your life as you have lived it. Now is a time to enjoy your wisdom, savour your prosperity and admire the personal artwork you have created, for soon you will start it all over again. The journey may have stopped for the moment, and it may have transcended the plane on which you started, but the journey of the soul never ends.

A new beginning is found in the end, the pieces are in place for a new journey to start, and after that one is completed, another will surely commence. After a glimpse of the Divine you return to manifestation, sure of your convictions and in your ability to someday see the face of God again. The cycle is as endless as the wreath that surrounds the scene, tied together by the ribbons of Divine force, and spiraling around the universe until the end of time. The World card marks a time in your life in which one cycle is over and the next is just beginning. It represents the final achievement of all your worldly expectations and desires, and the imminent approach of new desires to follow and new goals to peruse. The World itself remains the ultimate goal, because it is an affirmation of life and an arrival at a perfect state of harmony and bliss. This is the confirmation of success and the reward for all your trials and ordeals. With the coming of the World comes assured success and material well-being, as well as emotional fulfillment, and growth in the spiritual sense.

In the material world, this card's energy often manifests as a promotion to a higher position or an initiation to a new level of knowledge that was only dreamed of before. But this time of rejoicing and happiness, this peak of ecstasy, merely gives us a glimpse of the next mountain on the horizon. So once again you must step up to the cliff and leap off, ready to start a new Fool's journey and find what secrets lie in this new level of existence. The cycle of the Major Arcana begins where it ends and ends where it begins; start and finish are no longer the ends of straight line, but coincident points on the circumference of a circle that encapsulates your life. The present is now. The future is now. Eternity is now.

I can't help but think it mean the end of my career in domestic violence. If my experience tonight isn't a sign, I don't know what is. Perhaps I am supposed to be focusing all my energy on Community Green?! I have found it extremely difficult to give up that part of me that devoted 25 years toward ending violence against women. It's like giving up a part of myself. But it might just be time to let it go. So Merry Christmas everyone and please take time time this holiday season to cherish the ones you love.

18 & 8

I'm a little pensive tonight as today is Hannah's 18th birthday. [Happy Birthday, Hannah!] While I have been preparing for this moment since the day she was born, I'm still not ready. I lost a few years of her growing up after Mike's accident and just as we were getting back on track, the cancer hit. I fear she had to grow up way too fast. Life has taken us on a journey we could not have expected. Luckily she has adapted and faced it head on. She has become a beautiful young woman with a good head on her shoulders. We are extremely proud of her.

And today's tarot card was the Eight of Cups. The lesson the Eight of Cups gives us is this: the past is gone and it cannot be changed, so you might as well make the most of the future. You cannot go backward and you cannot stay where you are, and the time has come for you to move on. This is in many ways a card of self-discovery, urging you to pursue your true path and find something better. An old ambition may have to be abandoned but a new one will certainly arise. Recognizing when it is time to move on, away from difficult times, is the primary theme of the Eight of Cups. So, is this talking about Hannah's growing up or my employment situation? I did have an interview today so we'll soon see what comes of it.

Another type of energy stagnation illustrated here is simple lethargy, the lack of motivation and desire to achieve. Such apathy generally manifests as complaining about how good the past was and how bleak the future looks. I try not to dwell on life before Mike's accident because there is no going back. That life was good and I miss it. Tying into the theme, and usually fitting with the card's symbolism, is the notion that physical sacrifices must be made for spiritual growth to happen. The card show the man walking away from his eight golden cups, neatly stacked, to the barren wasteland ahead. This represents a search for higher truth when the everyday truths of the material world are no longer sufficient to satisfy the soul. In many ways the Eight of Cups is tied to the Hermit and the Hanged Man, who give up their friends and their freedom, respectively, to seek wisdom. The sacrifice intended on the Eight of Cups comes from the heart, but the wisdom earned fills the void that is created. Geez, what more do I need to give up? My marital relationship, my life's work, a car, a house and one breast are gone. I'm not sure there's much left to give. Spiritual enlightenment had better come soon!!!

Just call me Pariah

"I have to say that life has gotten so much better since I have arrived in Santa Cruz. It is truly a magical place, the beaches have healing powers and there is something to be said for eliminating those who bring negative energy into your life. My friend, Tami Tunnell, says negative energy is like a cancer that eats away at your soul and body and as a cancer survivor, I believe her. I suggest - cut them out, get alone with your on thoughts, closer to God and take care of your body, mind and soul. And never forget to honor and support your family and TRUE friends emotionally and spiritually. You never know, you might be the only positive loving voice they encounter in a day. Peace!!!! "
~ Dawn Fridrich

Ok, so I'm thinking about changing my name to Pariah, because that's what I'm feeling like! I was turned down for yet another job today. (It's hell to be unwanted!) And to top it all off, I was told by someone who just met me for the first time today that I needed to get my priorities straight. Excuse me?! I'm fascinated by those who can judge me without having any idea about me or my life. Maybe I should have asked exactly what I should do differently? But I am not willing to hang on to the negative energy. Reading what Dawn posted yesterday on Facebook was just what I needed.

Have you ever had a similar conversation or incident that left you upset for a day or two? How can you release that negative energy? One easy way is to simply brush it off. When people often offer this well intentioned advice, they aren't speaking literally - but here I am. Literally, take one hand and brush your arms, legs, head, and back. Understand that energy literally sits around us so wipe your body clean, like you were removing a layer of dust from your skin. You'll instantly feel better as the cloud of bad energy is brushed from your immediate surroundings. It's best to do this outside and ideally in nature (like on the beach).

Another technique is to shrug it off by shrugging your shoulders, literally. Energy, especially the energy of resentment, which is the feeling that someone has done something wrong to you, often sits in our shoulders - along our gallbladder meridian. By shrugging your shoulders up and down several times, you're helping that energy move and when it moves, it can be removed - instead of sitting stuck inside you. Blowing it off is yet another technique that can help and again, literally. Breathe deeply and exhale quickly and forcefully through your mouth. This will help remove the poor energy from your internal environment.

I think that, short of joining my friend Dawn in sunny Cal-i-forn-ia, my priorities are in order. And while I was offended and discouraged, I do recognize that I am blessed with family and good friends, Community Green and roller derby. Dawn's post was the perfect reminder that no matter what, my friends are there. It's nice to know that someone still loves me!

Blue Stars All Around (or Why I Love Roller Derby)

Tonight the 'Paign got together to enjoy some sushi and great company. I made some homemade caramels and white chocolate "blue stars" for everyone. I wanted to bring something homemade from the heart so my teammates and coach know how much they mean to me. It is always so much fun to get together outside of derby because we truly like each other. On the drive home I was thinking about how tight this team and league are and why that is. This is what I came up with:

Playing roller derby is like being part of a cult. At first, it seems innocent enough. I will get in shape! I'll meet new and interesting people! I will wear funny socks! And once roller derby has her little tenterhooks in you, that's when she starts to reel you in. Your family sees you less and less, unless you are trying to sell tickets for an upcoming bout. You work out to get stronger. Your sock drawer will no longer close. For me, roller derby is a way to just be my own person out in the world with an awesome group of women. It's athletic and a fun way to get exercise and move my body. I love that roller derby girls are tough as nails. After all, the game we play involves dashing around an oval track on roller skates, intentionally colliding into opponents and oftentimes sending them careening off the track. Bruises and other injuries are common. Roller derby can certainly be about testing one's stamina, patience, balance, strength, fortitude and overall athletic ability, but it is about so much more, from creating a common bond with others to discovering things about one's self, as well as being involved with the community.

You know your attachment to roller derby has reached the level of "love" when you've given up all forms of normal life: you no longer watch prime-time television, hell, you dumped cable because you don't have time to watch t.v. anymore. You haven't been out with your significant other in months (unless they are also involved in derby) because date night usually occurs on Friday or Saturday night, and you have derby - every weekend. A small corner of your house (or car) smells like a decomposing body, because that's where you air out your gear. You find yourself frequenting bars advertising drink specials because you need your cash to buy new knee pads. And it's why your Facebook friend requests are multiplying faster than a communicable disease.

There is an instant kinship among derby folks. That's not to say all of us are lovey-dovey with each other (although I do love you all), or even that we all get along all the time. There is certainly some "trash-talking" between teams and individual skaters but nothing serious. There is a camaraderie among the derby world, even when we are each others opponents. I suppose derby is unique in this aspect, and much of it stems from the fact that the roller derby resurgence began just as much, or more, as a cultural scene as an athletic one.

And we offer up this support system because we all recognize how unique the roller derby experience is. This is an exclusive club: not one of those douchey clubs where the people inside are wearing sunglasses, talking crap on everyone who walks in that they don't know and only drink imported beer. This club is exclusive because there is a true obsession reverberating through us all: WE LOVE ROLLER DERBY!

I (HEART) THE 'PAIGN

Reconnection

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather is one of those things that give value to survival."

- C. S. Lewis


The Thanksgiving theme continues. Today's tarot card was again the Nine of Cups, which was appropriate, as I was still feeling quite satisfied and content. It has been a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. And as you can see, I was again wearing my Elf hat and decorating the Christmas Tree. [And those ornaments are all for sale] Today was a day of reconnection. I ran into a former colleague (from ~12 years ago) and it was great to have a chance to reconnect. Then later this evening, I ran into another former colleague and got to catch up with her, too. Plus, my mother came down for Thanksgiving and spent the last 3 days helping out at Community Green, which was fun.

And as a reminder to leave nothing unsaid, my childhood chum, Debbie, reminded me of an essay I wrote in elementary school. We were asked to write about the person we admired most and I chose Debbie. I gave that essay to Debbie once the teacher returned it. Debbie confided that if she felt down she would read it and it would give her a much needed boost as she got to see herself through someone else's eyes. Now, I don't remember what I wrote but I do remember that Debbie was a good friend and she, along with her grandparents, mom and brothers always treated me like family. They often took me on vacation with them which was the only time I got to go on vacation because my family certainly couldn't afford it. They only asked that I bring souvenir money as they covered the rest. I never forgot their generosity and always did the same whenever we invited one of Hannah's friends along on vacation. I am pleased that I gave her that essay and that she re-read it when she needed it most. I am grateful that she shared that memory with me as it made me feel really, really good. I smiled at the thought of my younger self being so kind hearted. But then again, my friends have always been extremely important to me.

So a great big thanks to Debbie for sharing the memory and much love to all my friends, who help make life worth living!

XXOOXXOOXX

The Nine of Cups

If any of you saw my Facebook status earlier today, you know that I was at Community Green, wearing an Elf Hat and playing Christmas Carols on the radio. I think I was even singing at one point! Since I was feeling especially cheery, I thought I'd see what today's tarot card was. As it happens, it was the Nine of Cups. One of the most positive and uplifting cards of the entire deck, the Nine of Cups shows satisfaction on all levels - emotional, physical, sensual. It is little wonder that most Tarot readers refer to this as the Wish Card, and its appearance is often taken as a sign that, whatever your heart's desire is, it shall be granted in the coming days. It may not be granted exactly as you expected but you can rest assured that you will get what you want. The Nine of Cups usually refers to an emotionally fulfilling situation. It shows that joy and happiness are certainly within your grasp, and that you probably already have them. It is a sign to enjoy the abundance of life for as long as it lasts. Feel each of your emotions as if you had never felt any of them before. Take some time to value every person you love - and all those who love you back. See the perfection all around you.

On a more physical level, this card signals delight and pleasure, contentment with what you have and a steady foundation for the future. Your worries are all in the past, and you can look forward to a bright future. The Nine of Cups shows excellent health, though when badly dignified it can often point to an overabundance of physical pleasure that can lead to intoxication and illness. But this is really the only caution of the Nine of Cups: enjoy life and enjoy living but don't take it too far, because pleasure without regard to the consequences is rapidly lost. It is rare that the Nine of Cups refers to a sense of spiritual bliss, since the cards of the spirit are the Swords. But with the Swords suit so full of strife and danger, the Nine of Cups would look out of place anywhere else but in the Cups suit. And if you think about it this makes sense, because when the pleasure and contentment of the physical plane is transferred to the spiritual level, it becomes inner peace and harmony with the Universe. The Universe is, after all, the source of all the love and pleasure that flows through the Nine of Cups into our lives. It only makes sense that we can sometimes follow that river to its source.

The Nine of Cups card further suggests that my power today lies in satisfaction. I have the self-respect, space or esteem that I need to "bartend" my resources or to live large emotionally. I am confident in and gratified by expressing what is close to my heart or in sharing my happiness like a buffet of joy. I take pleasure and pride in the new order I have created by clean sweeping emotional clutter or in honoring what has meaning. I am empowered by recognition and my gift is contentment. It's been a while since I felt content.

Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. It's been a lazy day. I have lounged around in my pj's all day, watching the Arrested Development marathon on IFC and eating too much! And what's this about stores opening up even earlier for Black Friday? A 5am opening isn't good enough anymore? I abhor Black Friday and all its craziness. Luckily, I have to work at Community Green tomorrow. As a matter of fact, that's where I've done most of my Christmas shopping. We get some nice things at the shop!

Thanksgiving is one day set aside for giving thanks, but researchers are finding that a daily dose of gratitude promotes health, happiness and social relationships. Researchers are finding that gratitude is a key element of human well-being. It’s getting increasing attention from psychologists, especially those within the growing movement known as positive psychology, which studies well-being. They are finding that grateful people are optimistic and energetic and deal better with stress and illness. Cultivating an “attitude of gratitude” has been linked to better health, sounder sleep, less anxiety and depression, higher long-term satisfaction with life and kinder behavior toward others. Gratitude, in short, can make you happier. Socially, gratitude builds connections.

One way to "practice" gratitude is to start with "gratitude lite". Keep a journal listing five things for which you felt grateful, like a friend’s generosity, something you learned, a sunset you enjoyed. Just one sentence for each of the five things — and done only once a week. So what am I thankful for? Two years ago at this time, I had just started chemo, having recovered from surgery. Today, I’m truly blessed to be in good health. I’m thankful for all of my family and friends who supported me through these past two years. And I’m so fortunate to have my derby family —my team, league-mates, coaches and refs, who were all there for me during that trying time.

When all else fails, remember the Monty Python mantra of the Black Plague victim: “I’m not dead.” It’s all a matter of perspective.

Breast Cancer Is Not A Pink Ribbon

SCARS

Scars all over my body
To remind me of my battles

Scars all over my mind
To remember all the trauma

Scars all over my heart
To feel the losses

Scars all over
Healing along the way
But never disappearing.

--Rachel Baumgartner

My esteemed teammate, Polly Nator sent me a link about The SCAR Project. {Thanks so much, Polly.} Feel free to follow the link to be better informed. The SCAR Project is a series of large-scale portraits of young breast cancer survivors shot by fashion photographer David Jay. Primarily an awareness raising campaign, The SCAR Project puts a raw, unflinching face on early onset breast cancer while paying tribute to the courage and spirit of so many brave young women.

Dedicated to the more than 10,000 women under the age of 40 who will be diagnosed this year alone, The SCAR Project is an exercise in awareness, hope, reflection and healing. The mission is three-fold: raise public consciousness of early-onset breast cancer, raise funds for breast cancer research/outreach programs and help young survivors see their scars, faces, figures and experiences through a new, honest and ultimately empowering lens.

Breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer deaths in young women ages 15-40. The SCAR Project participants range from ages 18 to 35, and represent this often overlooked group of young women living with breast cancer. They journey from across America – and the world – to be photographed for The SCAR Project. Nearly 100 so far. The youngest being 18 years old.

Although Jay began shooting The SCAR Project primarily as an awareness raising campaign, he was not prepared for something much more immediate . . . and beautiful: “For these young women, having their portrait taken seems to represent their personal victory over this terrifying disease. It helps them reclaim their femininity, their sexuality, identity and power after having been robbed of such an important part of it. Through these simple pictures, they seem to gain some acceptance of what has happened to them and the strength to move forward with pride."

I agree with Jay's statement above because my scar is my badge of courage. I have fought that battle and won! My scar is a part of me. I even made reference to it in my poem I Lost/I Found. The gallery of pictures is a powerful reminder of breast cancer's aftermath. It evokes a myriad of feelings within me that is hard to put into words. The pictures intrigue me as true courage and victory shines through. I personally have a long scar but it is rather light (a testament to the fine job my surgeon, Dr. Haynes, did). I also have a "breast mound" [affectionately dubbed "The Boobette"] that remains in case I ever choose reconstruction. My life does not revolve around the scar tissue. My scar is neither repulsive nor pleasing -- it just is.