Susan, thank you, my friend, for sharing your path with us. It has been life-changing for so many of us. - Liz
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| "A mammogram saved my life" |
I am now a few short weeks away from finishing my treatment
for breast cancer and the most surreal year of my life. I still think it cannot
have happened to me. No chance, no way. I do not think I’m so special that I
could not get cancer, and I do realize why not me, but I still cannot believe
it at times. I often remember the moment that the young resident had to tell me
that my cancer was aggressive, that I had to have chemo and radiation, that yes
I would lose my hair, but that he truly believed I would survive. Tears leaked
out and I will never forget his absolute kindness. He appeared to be suffering
right along with me.
My husband was with me at this appointment and that
morning there were a couple of strange moments that clearly indicated that both
my mother and father were with me in spirit. I have lots of faith that I’ve
questioned over the years, but in that moment my faith held me up and I knew
with 100% certainty that I was not and would not be alone in this battle.
After this meeting with the doctor, my husband and I
staggered out to the car. He had been through this all before with his first
wife who had terminal ovarian cancer. He was visibly upset but his amazing
support started right in that moment. I was hysterical in the car. He said we
could do whatever I wanted, and I could have whatever I wanted. Through my
hysteria (comical months later) I said, “All I can think of that I want is a
Subaru Impreza!” We told this to the Subaru dealer where we bought the car last
week, and she suggested I should be doing Impreza commercials! Get handed a
potential death sentence, RUN don’t walk to your nearest Subaru dealer!
As my chemo was being planned at the first of the year, we
chose a regime that we were convinced would give me the best chance of
survival. It was 10 infusions more than the chemo on the other side of town,
but was also described as easier with the last 12 infusions. The university
hospital had survival numbers to back up their chemo. I was sure back in
March of this year that September would never EVER come. It was just not going
to happen in 2013. A 6-month period has never looked longer to me other than
maybe when I was 4 years old and waiting for my birthday. It was a very tough
March-May but an absolutely easy June-August. The first day of walking into
chemo was one of the hardest days of my life. The last day of chemo was the one
and only day I was ever in tears up in the oncology department, though at the
start I was sure I would sob through every infusion. I was so sad to be leaving
these people who became my family.
My nurses were kind and comforting when this
is what was called for, and were absolutely “lustig,” wild, funny, and
encouraging of all laughter and levity being generated by the Fabulous Freitag
Frauen, those of us meeting up every Friday for the same infusions. The drug
did not make any of us sick so we sat there laughing and carrying on like
maniacs while hooked up to chemo. Fridays became so much fun that even my
husband could hardly wait to get there. I was THRILLED when it was over but
also so sad to see the end of Fabulous Freitag Frauens. One has remained my
friend thankfully. We had lunch last week and she commented that we had exactly
the same hair style! Short, aftermath of chemo style!
I’m two days away from the mid-point in radiation. Compared to
chemo, radiation is downright pleasant….quick, painless, no problem. The end of
radiation will be the end of my active treatment, but my year with BC will not
be over in my head until my port is removed and my stitches out a week later.
My GP will remove the stitches and having been an integral part of this year in
my life, it will be a moment I’ll be honored to share with him. He’s awesome
and is a guy who will “get it.” He played a big part in steering me to the
right hospital and has patched me up all year with a compromised immune system
and all with a huge, encouraging smile on his face.
Hair loss. If ANY of you happen to have a way to get
“Mondays at Racine” to me I will be happy to pay for the DVD, shipping, your
trouble, anything! This documentary which inspired Liz to buzz seems to not be
available anywhere, tho I see signs of an HBO something.
I was beyond upset to be losing my hair. I grieved and moped
for a good month over hair loss, but so actively grieved (I’m not one to hold
back) that when it started coming loose and I buzzed it off it was really not
that bad. As much as I had suffered over my hair, the number 1 thing that I most
liked about chemo was having no hair and it still surprises me today. I looked
like hell; pale, no eyebrows, no eyelashes and bald. No hair is not a good look
on me. I thought makeup looked kind of weird with no eyebrows especially, and
there was just no way to hide the “cancer girl” look. I just stopped spending
time looking in the mirror.
With no hair and no makeup, you only really need to
deal with brushing your teeth! I loved being able to shower, wipe my head and
be done with the whole process in no time. I loved being able to shower right
before bed, towel dry my head, throw on a cap and hit the sack. I loved not
having to mess with makeup except on the rare occasion. The extra free space in
the cabinet under my sink has been astonishing. I have been way faster than my
husband this year in starting from the shower and being ready to head out the
door. It was an exercise in letting go of all vanity.
Why indeed is it so hard
to lose your hair when your life is at stake? I still do not have an all-encompassing
answer to this other than to say that it is not a normal thing for a girl to
have no hair. People stare (and in my world would die before they would
comment) and know you are sick. It is no fun to feel unattractive for months on
end. For me, bald has now become
beautiful. I saw a woman at Oktoberfest this year who had on a gorgeous dirndl,
was beautifully made up, and was as bald and shiny as a cue ball. It has become
the sign of a warrior to me and will always be so for the rest of my life. The
pain and grief passes and is just a small part of the journey. I hope and pray
to never have to go through this all again, but if this is my path in life,
hair loss will not be the big concern. Finding the fun people to sit with
during chemo will be my bigger worry.
I have so much to be grateful for in this month of
Thanksgiving. My life, the support of family and friends, the fact that through
this process I’ve made a handful of friends who I hope will be with me always,
and my new Subaru!! just to touch the surface. A husband who stepped up more
than I would ever have imagined possible. My friend who came from the other
side of the world to stay with me for 3 weeks while my husband took care of
business in the next country over. Two friends who took off their hair in
solidarity. (I wish Liz and Lee for a moment could experience the look of shock
and confusion on the German face when I have explained this to people here!)
Liz, I wish for you now that your purple/red/blue hair will
start to bend soon! Thank you for all you have done, the prayers, the packages,
the blog, the video, the keeping in touch.
Thank you everyone from the bottom of my heart.
