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.

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.

Nothing left unsaid

This is a picture I took at Hannah's senior photo shoot. She chose 3 locations: Trevett/Finch park (that awesome tree on the corner of Prospect & University), Kaufmann Lake (where this picture was taken) and the Boneyard Creek basin. She invited me and her Aunt Bert to tag along. {I certainly never invited my mother along, nor would I have even considered it!} I guess it means that as much as I embarrass her, I don't. And it was incredibly important to me to have been a part of it. Amy Scott from RAARS PhotographY was the photographer. I'm looking forward to seeing the proofs as she is an awesome photographer. Amy deserves special thanks for allowing me to "interfere" and do a photo chronicle of her photo session.

I was reading the VOICES column in today's News-Gazette, authored by Tim Sinclair. He describes an anticipated reunion between a father and a long-lost daughter that didn't happen because of a 3-hour flight delay. The daughter's flight landed in Champaign 48 minutes after her father passed away. Tim believes that they will eventually reconnect, in heaven. This story serves as a reminder to make sure nothing is left unsaid. So, if I'm yelling "I love you" across a crowded bar, it doesn't just mean that I had too much to drink, it means I want you to know how much I care. Or if I message you on Facebook to tell you I miss you, it means I need you to know that you are important to me (I don't allow douche bags in my life, so you must be pretty special). If I tag along on your senior photo shoot (I was invited after all), it's because you are the most important person in my life, although you may not always believe that.

I'm having a hard time believing that my baby is about to turn 18 and graduate from high school. Actually, her high school graduation is the first milestone I set for myself when I learned I had breast cancer so it will be bittersweet. I'll be happy to see her graduation day but sad to see her all grown up. I just don't think I'm ready to face the "empty nest" syndrome. And speaking of Hannah, she too, has a blog. Feel free to visit her blog at
http://hannah-loseyourself.blogspot.com/.

All the right things

I know that I've spent a great deal of time bitchin' about all the insensitive jerks you have to deal with when diagnosed with cancer. And since my sister always likes to remind me to be grateful for what I do have, I would be remiss if I didn't recognize all of you who said or did the right thing at the right time. While there were many, these stand out most in my mind, but in no particular order:

• My friend Karen, who, when I complained about all those people saying how brave I was, told me that you never know how strong you are until you have to be. I realized that what others viewed as bravery, I saw as necessity.
• My colleague, Mike, who said upon learning my diagnosis, "Cancer doesn't know who it's messing with". He made me smile at a time I wanted to cry.
• My friend, Steve, who was always willing to listen to my crazy ramblings and fears.
  
• My friend, Deb, who simply said, "I'm here for you". I never felt so loved.
  
• My sister-in-survivorship and leaguemate Coffey Break-Her, who immediately recognized me as a survivor and has been right there with me since day 1 in roller derby.
• My leaguemate, Ghirley Manson, who told me to "Put on your big girl panties and skate". It was the best piece of advice I have ever been given! [much love to Ghirley]
  
• Coach La, who always seemed to know when I needed those words of encouragement.
• The 'Paign and Coach RAH for always having my back. It's like having my own personal, cancer-fighting army. I love you all and could never have gotten through this without each and every one of you. Go 'Paign!
  
• My friend Mary Vita, who, when I had hardly any hair, said, "Let's go to lunch". She didn't care what others thought.
• My daughter, Hannah, by whom I set those milestones to meet: her high school graduation, her college graduation, her wedding, meeting my future grandchildren...She's always believed that I would survive this battle.
• My sister, Bert, who said, "Do what you have to do to get better; take all the time you need".
• My mother, who was always here with me through those trying chemo days.
  
• My co-workers at A Woman's Fund, who held down the fort when I couldn't.
• The most awesomest roller derby league, the Twin City Derby Girls. You never let me wallow in self-pity and certainly never treated me like a cancer patient. You all saved my life by letting me be a part of something so great!

As I started to think about all the wonderful people in my life, I realized that I do have a lot to be grateful for. And if I missed anyone, I apologize, I'm old and suffer from CRS {Can't Remember Shit}. Hugs and kisses to you all.

Boob Squishing Day

Some of you might have seen my Facebook post earlier today about my mammogram. For the first time in 2 years, it was all clear! [Great big collective cheer here!] Even the spots they saw last year are gone! [Apparently the right boob does not want to become a boobette like the left one]. Perhaps the tamoxifen is working?! Tamoxifen helps prevent the original breast cancer from returning and also helps prevent the development of new cancers in the other breast. Tamoxifen (Nolvadex®) is a drug, taken orally as a tablet, which interferes with the activity of the estrogen. Estrogen can promote the development of cancer in the breast. Since I recently passed my 2 year cancerversary, my odds of recurrence have decreased slightly. Unfortunately, new research published in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute suggests that the risk of breast cancer relapse remains present even 15 years after a woman is initially diagnosed with the disease. {Damn, 2 down - 13 to go!}

And I learned this: Women with dense breasts are more likely to develop breast cancer, and their cancers may be more aggressive, recent research has found. Those who've already had breast cancer are more likely to have a recurrence if they have dense breasts. {I am so screwed}.

We know that being physically active is one of the best things you can do for your health. It helps you maintain a healthy weight and lowers your risk of heart disease, stroke and diabetes. Now, growing scientific evidence shows that it can also help lower your risk of developing or dying from breast cancer. Studies show that physical activity after a breast cancer diagnosis is associated with a lower risk of recurrence and increased chance of survival. Findings from one large study showed that breast cancer survivors who got between nine and 23 MET hours of activity a week (roughly three to nine hours of walking) had a 35 to 40 percent lower risk of recurrence compared to survivors who were less active. The largest study to date on physical activity and survival followed nearly 4,500 breast cancer survivors for more than five years. Survivors who got between three and eight MET hours (roughly one to two hours of brisk walking) of activity a week had a 40 percent lower risk of death compared to less active survivors. Women did not need to do intense exercise to get a survival benefit. Activity equal to a 30-minute brisk walk several times a week improved survival. Women who got more activity got more benefit. So, when I say Roller Derby saved my life, it really did!

Luminaria Ceremony

Tonight I had the opportunity to be the survivor speaker at UI's 2012 Relay For Life Kick-Off Luminaria Ceremony. Relay For Life is a fun-filled overnight event designed to celebrate survivorship and raise money for research and programs of your American Cancer Society. During the event, teams of 8-15 people gather the University of Illinois Track and Soccer Stadium and take turns walking or running laps. Each team tries to keep at least one team member on the track at all times. Relay For Life represents the hope that those lost to cancer will never be forgotten, that those who face cancer will be supported, and that one day, cancer will be eliminated. The kick-off was sponsored by UI's Chapter of Colleges Against Cancer (CAC). CAC is a nationwide collaboration of college students, faculty, and staff dedicated to eliminating cancer by working to implement the programs and mission of the American Cancer Society. With hundreds of chapters nationwide, CAC is showing the world that young people care and want to make a difference. I'd like to thank Alma, Christa and all the others for inviting me to speak.

My speech was as follows:

I lost
one breast
most of my hair
weight
toenails
mental clarity
all sense of modesty
a few friends along the way
my life's work

I found
humility
compassion
gray hair
tremendous respect for my family
true knowledge of who my friends are
new friends
a sisterhood with other survivors
scars
a realization of how resilient I truly am
perspective
freedom to be my "true" self
roller derby

Two years, 1 month, 2 weeks and 5 days ago my life changed forever. 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.

There is much discussion in the breast cancer world as to when you start marking the point at which you went from being an average Jane walking down the street to the "breast cancer survivor." Is it from the point of diagnosis? Is it from the point at which you had you surgery to remove the cancer? Is it when you are done with treatments? A "cancerversary" marks the annual recurrence of the date of a survivor's original diagnosis, although it can also mark any notable event in someone's cancer journey such as the date of the completion of treatment. Though these are all important milestones, for me the process of "surviving" began the minute I was diagnosed. If you are thrown into the pool and tread water for a while you don't count your journey from when you are pulled out of the pool, you mark it from when you were thrown into the water. Some days it seems like it has taken forever to get here and other days it seems like only yesterday.

September 21, 2009 is the day that my life as I knew it ended, and a new life began. Because no matter what the outcome, life is never the same after a cancer diagnosis. My cancerversaries feel rather momentous, partly because my life took such a dramatic change on the day I was diagnosed, but also because of the relief that I have made it through these past two years. I think about my cancerversaries with a combination of pride, dread, sadness, happiness, and relief. Sound schizophrenic? Welcome to the life of a cancer survivor. These past two years have been filled with ups and downs, good days and bad, and a lot of emotions. So what does one do to celebrate a cancerversary? Go out to dinner? Throw a party? Buy yourself something nice? My answer is this: you celebrate that you got to wake up this morning. And that's enough for me to want to pop a bottle of champagne. This may not be the life I ordered but it is the life I’m living. Today, I rarely think of the cancer, choosing instead to live life. While the diagnosis of cancer shattered the illusion that I was immortal, the most surprising side effect of cancer is that it has given me more courage than I ever thought possible. My life after cancer is more courageous, more honest and fuller than my life before. A cancer diagnosis encourages us to know both the fragility and the hopes of life, and with that knowledge to live as fully as possible. And like I always say, time flies when you're having cancer!

They then read this poem for the luminaria lighting:

I light a candle
A brightly shining flame
For all the ones who’ve gone before
Remembering each by name

And I light a candle
For those who live today
Who suffer with uncertainty
Praying one day for a change
And I light a candle

I light a candle for those who are still yet to come
That they will never face the pain when
The battle has been won

And I light a candle
For victories today
For survivors who have fought the fight
We celebrate today
And I light a candle

I light a candle
That every child will have the chance
To ride a bike, learn how to swim
Walk barefoot in the grass

And I light a candle,
That one day we shall light no more and
Offer up this simple prayer,
Praying one day for a cure
And I light a candle

Powerful stuff.

Things I wish someone had told me

I’m so sorry you have cancer. You deserve better.
Now that you have been diagnosed, lots of people are going to give you advice and sympathy for the next few days. Most will never understand what you’re going through, but they will try to make you feel better. You’ll hear lots of things like “You'll beat this” and “I’ll be praying for you” and “Never give up!”.
But most people won’t tell you what to expect, because they just don’t know.
I’m here to tell you what the next few days, weeks, months, and years will be like. And I promise not to lie to you.
First things first. You’re about to go through some of the suckiest experiences of your life.
There are not enough words to describe how much this truly sucks.

• It sucks that this happens.
• It sucks that it happens to nice people.
• And it really sucks that it is happening to you.

Life isn’t fair. No honest person has ever told you life was fair. That you got cancer isn’t fair either. But there it is.
And it isn’t anyone’s fault.
Let’s get that part out of the way right now, shall we?
Everyone tries to blame something or someone for cancer. Because it’s really hard to stay mad at something that is growing inside of you. It’s easier to be mad at environmental factors or at yourself for not living “right”.
But it doesn’t really matter what caused or triggered it, does it? Doesn’t change a damn thing and you can’t turn back time and live differently. You can’t go turn off the industrial smokestacks that are bellowing out tons of toxins into our air everyday, and you can’t go back 15 years ago and never eat a cheeseburger either.
Besides, new research seems to indicate that viral infections are the cause. So, remember that really bad flu virus you had that winter? Yeah, that was probably it. Or not. Who knows?
So, get over it, and stop blaming yourself or the world for it. Focus on what’s important right now. The next few weeks and months are the only important things you need to be concerned with.
Here’s what you can expect in the immediate future, so that when it happens, you won’t be shocked.
Stages of Cancer Treatment (From the patient’s perspective)
First is the Education stage. This is the part where everything you could possibly read about cancer will be all you think about. You’re going to try and learn everything you can in hopes of conquering it with your willpower and brains alone.
That’s good. That’s healthy. Knowledge is good. Go for it and get it out of your system.
And then, listen to my first piece of advice…
1. Trust your medical team. They know what they are doing.
Your doctors and nurses have your best interest at heart. They have years of medical experience dealing with this disease, and they want you to get better. They want you to live. If for no other reason, they want you to live because it makes them look good.
So, when they tell you which treatments are advised for your medical condition, do your research if you must. Learn whatever makes you more comfortable with the wisdom of your doctors. Then trust them and do what they think is best for you.
Which brings me to #2:
2. Be patient with the “armchair physicians”
They will attack you in droves now, thrusting out their lotions, potions, and magic drinks that claim to be the “secret cancer cure” no one knows about.
It will be a challenge for you when 100 people approach you with 100 completely different “cures”. They mean well, even though they are being less than helpful.
Try to remember that they believe in their nonsense, and because they believe it, they are trying to be your healer. They think they are going to save your life by telling you all this.
They care about you, but they are dangerous. Thousands upon thousands of people die each year because they fear doctors so much they are willing to forgo actual tested treatments in favor of untested root chewing.
Learn to nod gently and say “Thank you. I’ll look into it”.
3. Be patient with your friends and family when they tell you “let me know if you need anything”, but then disappear completely.
It isn’t easy for them to know what to do for you. They feel helpless. You remind them of their own mortality, and it scares them.
So, understand that if you want help, you have to sacrifice your pride and actually ASK for it. Lean on them whenever possible. Call them and ask them to help you with housework, groceries, dinner, etc. Give them some busy work. It’s good for you and good for them too.
Let yourself rely on your family and friends. You don’t need to be tough all the time. Rest your head on the shoulders of your family who has always loved you, no matter what. They need to be there for you. Let them.
Do it because if worst comes to worst, this is their one chance to make great memories with you. If you die and you didn’t let them help you, they will feel guilty the rest of their lives.
So, don’t be a jerk. Give them stuff to do.
4. You are going to die, but not today
I don’t mean to be morbid here, but you need to remember that just because you have cancer doesn’t mean you know how you’re going to die. You could still get hit by a bus tomorrow or fall in the shower and split your head open on the faucet.
If you remember this, and remind yourself of it often, you will find that you will fear death less and enjoy life more.
Enjoy the moments. Take extra time to do the things you always meant to do “someday”, and do them now. None of us have a clue when our expiration date is, but we behave as if we’re immortal, always procrastinating, always putting off the fun stuff until “later”. Pretend you are dying tonight and do TODAY what you would do if this was your last day on earth. Trust me. Your life will be a lot more interesting!
5. You aren’t helpless to anything.
Although you cannot control what happens TO you, you absolutely can control how you react to it. That is 100% yours. So, do whatever you need to do to kick cancer’s ass. Do your treatments. Take your meds. Take lots of naps. Give your body a chance to fix itself.
Which brings me to #6
6. Laugh.

• Laugh at yourself.
• Laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
• Laugh at bad jokes.
• Laugh during comedy sitcoms.
• Laugh at stupid YouTube videos.
• Laugh as often and as loudly as you can.

It will keep you brave.
Once your treatments are all finished, and you can start growing your hair back, and more importantly, start living your life again, there are some things you need to know.
The next few years will be weird for you.
Every headache will make you think “Oh God, it’s metastasized to my brain!!!” If your back hurts, you won’t be able to stop yourself from worrying that it has moved to your bones. It’s scary as hell, because just when you think it’s over…it isn’t.
Try not to worry too much about it. Get back to your life. Enjoy whatever life you’ve got left. Show up for every doctor’s appointment and do your follow up exams.
But don’t stress too much about whether or not it will be coming back again.
If it does, worry about it then and start the whole treatment process again.
But if it doesn’t, make sure you celebrate each day you have on this earth, ok?
Because from the first moment you were diagnosed with cancer, you felt like you were handed a death sentence. And because you were brave enough to go through all those treatments, you survived it, didn’t you?
That means that every single day you live past your original expiration date is an amazing blessing. You need to enjoy it.
That means you need to LIVE with as much joy and fierce determination to survive as you possibly can.