The Cost of Cancer!

Today was one of those days where the 'other side of cancer' (the financial side) really hit me as I reflected back a year ago when I was spending most of my days in bed in between chemo treatments, nausea and sleep. A time when the only vision I had was one of getting through my days one hour at a time, being able to eat more than 3 bites of mashed potatoes for dinner and figuring out a new remedy for that damn nausea.

Fast forward a year and you would have found me not in bed, but briskly walking through our house with boxes, odds and ends in my hands, directing friends between rooms and loading our belongings into the moving van and car over the past few weeks. I knew these days were coming and I somehow managed to hold it together just long enough to get through the scurry of people and boxes that were loaded into the van and taken to our new home - storage unit #888. The reality of the 'why' behind the move would swirl through my heart and mind, but frankly, I have been starting to feel a sense of financial relief.

So this is it, the cost of cancer. And no matter what your political views and opinions are about our nation's current state of health care, all I can think of is that I made it. I'm alive. The medical bills have piled up, the credit card companies are calling several times a day (from Florida & Texas to be exact!), the anesthesiology bills are still outstanding but honestly, I'm just grateful to be here.

Don't get me wrong - tears have been shed (many tears!) with my new reality of having to move out of our home, putting our belongings into storage and moving into my mom's house in order to afford our lives. But it became necessary. Not exactly what I envisioned at my age. I am an educated person, I have 3 degrees, a state license in Speech & Language Pathology and a national certification. My entrepreneurial spirit has always driven me to new heights, hence the 'major medical' health insurance coverage I have instead of full, fancy employee coverage. I don't regret my professional choices or the $800/month that we pay for 25%-50% medical coverage. My plastic surgeon didn't take insurance like all of the others but I'm forever thankful to him (just paid him off last month!) and for my new healthy girls. I have written grants and worked from bed falling asleep with my laptop on my legs, but I still managed to work, secure a grant and bring in some additional income in the midst of meds and nausea. Hil had to compromise her work and income as well in order to take care of me in the way I needed and the way she wanted.

BUT (yes, here it comes) - I'M ALIVE! I kicked cancer's a$$ - 3 TIMES!! I'm alive to write this post. I'm alive to pack boxes and move out of my house. I'm alive to call the anesthesiologist back to see if they'll work with me on my debt. Most of all, I'm beyond grateful that I have my health, I'm in remission, I have great friends and family, we have my mom's house and many new roofs over our heads to stay in and some much needed time to decompress and digest the past 18 months. AND, I have Hil. I have everything I need.

So, I leave you with what I hear my mom's voice saying repeatedly in my head these past few weeks, Is it that things are falling apart or falling into place?

I'd like to think that they're falling into place. Because even though the cost of cancer is huge, having my life and my health back, is priceless.

Turtles of Inspiration!

Happy WORLD TURTLE DAY! I know this seems so 6th grade of me to start collecting such trinkets of every color, texture and size at my age, but may I just say that this little fellow has been one of my main sources of inspiration throughout the past year and a half. I have such respect for my hard-shelled, reptile friends and their steadfast, courageous and resolute ways in which they embrace and face life. So, without repeating myself, check out my original posting on the beauty and inspiration of the turtle and help me honor this ancient and persistent nautical warrior! And be sure to live life with the zest of the turtle!

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day Mom!

If there's one thing I've learned from the many things I've learned this past year, it's that a mother's love can run very deep! My mom, as you can see from these pics, went on a journey with me, that neither one of us anticipated but she hopped on board the crazy-cancer-train a year and a half ago and continues to do all the things we hope a mother will do for a daughter in a time of need. 

From changing drains, holding my hand during so many procedures, buying me 'mastectomy pajamas,' gardening, sitting next to me in that chemo room, wearing crazy hats on Halloween (still sorry I made you do that mom - you're a good sport!), sleeping next to me on the couch because I couldn't make it upstairs and to cutting my short hair - she has been right there by my side. I never asked for any of it (except for the hair cut - I trusted NO ONE else!) and she just continued to dish it out day, after week, after month.

On top of all of this, she has done it all in love, gentleness, and an open heart and no complaints! And I'm not a mom, but I can't imagine her journey of watching her 'baby' go through this third round of cancer. But instead, she was steadfast in her sweetness and love and forged on in the most motherly way possible.

So, this is my promise to you mom. I will ALWAYS be there for you, be by YOUR side and love you with open arms. I will be forever grateful for you and to you, for your love and for your friendship. And I hope in some small way, you will feel my love, kindness, gentleness and friendship in return. But, most of all, I will always love you "two biggers and a whole lot!"

I love you Mom and I'm so glad you're mine! xoxo

R is for Remission!

'Nuff said!

(Dr. G. is so shy but truly excited to use the 'R' word!)

Home Run for a CURE!

Bases are loaded...Doctors and PET scan on 2nd.... Lymphoma in the outfield...

Chris is up to bat..... 

AND.....

he hits it out of the park for a home run and a CURE!

That's right fans, Chris did it, he's been declared CURED!

#6 HITS A HOME RUN!!!!!

Another Chemo Grad ROCKS IT! Go Chris!

My chemo-comrad-cousin Chris (say that 3 times!) and I seem to have a lot in common these days. For one, we're clearly relatives. But this last year has brought us together in a different way - through cancer, surgeries, side effects and treatment. Me with a 3rd breast cancer diagnosis and him with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma at 15. AND, recently, we finished our last treatments on the EXACT same day - March 26th! A day to remember! Woot! Woot!

His amazing mom (my first cousin) Deidre and I ritually texted each other this past year on treatment days with pics, "Chris ROCKS!" and "Number 12 - DONE!" texts! A year of closeness, perspective and cancer cheerleading that this disease has brought on.

And while Chris and my cancer journeys have been a mix of both similarities and differences, Chris and I mostly connected through cancer comparisons. With a quick hug and a head nod, we often and quickly fell into chit chat this past year about neuropathy, numbness in our toes, what foods grossed us out, our sleeping habits and of course remedies for nausea. One time, as we were sitting in his house on the couch while our band of caregivers were chatting it up and comparing OUR stats, I leaned over and whispered "Don't you like how they all talk about us like we're not even here?" He nodded and we both chuckled. But they all needed an outlet too as Chris and I forged on with hair loss and high-fives over our new fuzzy hair growth along with treatment and testing milestones.

Chris' cancer stats still blow me away (48 rounds of chemo, 1 surgery, 17 radiation treatments) even though I was deep in my own cancer trenches and stats. Deidre and I talked for months like we were medical personnel: "What are his blood count numbers this week?" "Can he take a Zofran with some crackers and water?" "When's his PET scan?"How many days will he have for his radiation boost?" "Who's your chemo nurse today?" A new world of communication that brought us two cousins closer together after years of intermittent visits and updates through family.

We laugh at our new cancer language yet often cursed it when we were angry or frustrated. But then quickly, we reminded each other to take a deep breath to refocus ourselves on what we now call our 'gratitudes' -  our health, our caregivers, our newfound perspective and treatments for a cure.

Chris also helped inspire us as usual as we watched his ongoing and quiet determination! As I struggled with fatigue and headaches, Chris quietly said he wanted to go back to school the day after his last treatment. And 2 days after his last radiation at Stanford, that's exactly what he did and showed up to baseball practice with his buddies as they watched him struggling to run around the bases. "Throw the ball down, Little Chris has no wheels!" But his first day of practice was done in usual Chris style as he played 5 innings while Deidre texted us his play-by-play action. We were all picking up our jaws as she was describing the return of Chris' 15 year old life and his favorite sport - baseball.

Oh how I sometimes wish I were a 15 year old boy!

In the meantime, Deidre, Hil and I talk endlessly about 'What now?' and how we are supposed to feel now that treatment is done.  But as we have learned over the past year-and-a-half, we could all use a little 'dose of Chris' as he hops back on the train of life. A boy of few words just carrying on with his teenage life, computer gaming, going to school when he can and catching the last fly ball of a recent game for the win!

BOOYAH Chris! You're my hero!

Herceptin # 18: The End of the Treatment Road

Wow...I don't even know where to begin on this one. I walked into the chemo room sick, with a fever and unprepared for the words "This is your last treatment." Thinking that I had one more according to my calendar schedule from Dr. G. it was evident that this was the alarming reality. The nurse liason quickly checked with my oncologist before coming back into the room with her proclamation as we all stared at her and waited with bated breath - "Yes, it's official, this is your last treatment!"

Silence. Gasp. "What?" Tears.

I couldn't believe it and reacted immediately by slapping the chemo chair arm and demanded that the nurse go back to Dr. G. with a message from me - "You go tell Dr. G. that I am NOT prepared for this!"

But as the Herceptin scheduling Gods would have it....this was indeed the end of the treatment road for me. Not knowing at all how to feel, the tears just started to slowly stream down my face as I looked into Hil's eyes. She knew that I had been dreading this day as it would be the transition to cancer independence. Along with the band of 'Purple Angels' chemo staff around me, I simply couldn't contain my tears, but thankfully and strangely, the ambiance was quite peaceful during this not-so-frequent occurrence - an empty chemo room.

Never in my year of treatment have I walked by or into that room being the sole patient as it was usually filled to the brim with people, yet this day I was. This further added to the somber and lonely feeling I quickly had when I received the news of this last treatment. Was the universe conspiring with me on this last day? I frankly didn't know how to feel as a flood of emotions welled up inside of me. Happy. Sad. Surprised. Shocked. Frantic.

Hil immediately started taking pictures, filming and hiding behind the camera as she too didn't know how to take the news. The chemo staff didn't blink an eye as they have become used to her filming and documenting my journey, but this day had her privately retreating behind the lens. The only thing she said she knew to do.

I was, as I professed at the onset of my treatment, utterly unprepared for this. All I wanted to do was to curl up into Martha's lap and cry my eyes out and never open them up again. The best chemo-purple-angel-humanitarian in THE world! AND...so happened that my last day of treatment was her birthday - a day I will never forget.

Then came a ray of sunshine that walked through the door by the name of Lorena, one of my new 'breast friends' that I've had the great pleasure of getting to know these past few months. Going through a second breast cancer diagnosis herself, I felt as if my reinforcement showed up just in the nick of time. LUV this gal and her spunky attitude! So we spent the remaining time, just the two of us in those chairs, laughing, crying and sitting in silence. Exactly what I needed.

Then, my other 'breast friend' Marion came in briefly to bring Hil and I some sweet treats - flourless, sugarless, dairy-free cookies. Wow, I was overcome by more love and support. A surprise visit, this other lovely is a special one too and someone I immediately connected with at her first chemo appointment a couple of months ago. More reinforcement in the form of love. Couldn't ask for anything more.

As for my final exit out of that room with hugs, love and tears, I held my new chest up high and walked out that door. Promising to come back as a 'Chemo Concierge' to pay it forward, I looked at the lovely Martha who said with her beautiful big smile - "Now get out and stay out!"

'We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us'

-E.M. Forster