P.ink Tattoo Day!

Picture it, 10 breast cancer survivors, 10 tattoo artists and 10 healing hearts. Sounds AWESOME to me! And all because of one uber inspirational breast cancer warrior, Molly Ortwein.

Fast forward a year and a breast cancer diagnosis later and there's a new gal in town and a very cool organization called Personal Ink (P.ink). Ready to pay it forward, Molly and her crew over at P.ink are sponsoring and fundraising for their first PINK TATTOO DAY being held in New York City on October 21, 2013 at Save Tattoo Studio. Her mission: to "help turn something painful for breast cancer survivors into something beautiful." How awe-inspiring is that? Because let me tell you something, when the 'old girls' go and the 'new girls' arrive, the process is not such an easy one. It takes time. It takes acceptance. It takes therapy (AND a rockin' tattoo!).

So, when I first saw Molly's mission to assist fellow survivors feel better about themselves through beautiful body art, she had me! And although I'm medically unable to participate for their first fabulous event in the big city, I at least wanted to spread the word on how you can personally make a difference in someone's healing and life.

Here's what to do... Go to their indiegogo fundraising page for Pink Day 2013 and make a contribution towards their $25,000 goal! There, you'll see a very moving video and 2 clicks later, you've just made a huge difference in the often challenging journey following breast cancer and a mastectomy. It'll make you feel good for days! There's numerous levels of tax-deductable donations that you can contribute from $10 - $5,000 and they'll even throw in a few freebies for you.

So, do something good, click on over to the fundraising page right now but don't forget to keep up with them on Twitter or their beautifully curated P.ink Pinterest page for a dose of inspiration.

Chris' Cancerversary!

And here he is folks! 1 year later and look at Chris now! As many of you know, my 'chemo comrade' Chris was diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma 1 year ago today. His mom Dee (my amazing cousin!) says she remembers every single detail about this day last year. Where she was sitting, what Chris was doing, who told them, how she felt, etc... That's how it works in Cancerland you know, recalling every minuscule detail of a diagnosis like it was just yesterday.

But 1 year later, Chris is thriving, back in school and back in his game (go Chieftains baseball!). He's been declared 'cured' (such a spectacular word!) and sporting a rockin' new do! And even though he sees his Stanford docs and team every 4-6 weeks for the plethora of tests for this gig, I think Chris is amazing and.... wait for it....wait for it.... LE - GEN - DAR - Y!

...SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER!

Over the past 20 years, I've been irked, I mean privy to many comments from others and have had the privilege of hearing how other breast cancer survivors deal with the benefits of cancer! Some of these thoughts and comments are those I've heard, those I've experienced and those I've read from other warriors. Let's take a peek, shall we?

"Gee how I just love all the side effects from chemo and meds" SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! It's like having the worst flu of your life - for 1 year! 

"Yes, I just love my new 'girls' - how lucky am I to have had a boob job?!" SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! While it does sound exciting, try laying on your stomach, on a hard or soft mattress with these things!

"Being bald is such a cool hair style to rock!"  SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! Until you're made fun of by a mom and her four kids in the parking lot of Trader Joe's, not such a rockin' moment in hair history and so not a self-esteem booster.

"I just love all of this attention I'm getting!"  SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! Are you kidding me? Someone once said that to me and I about lost my sh*t!

"Well, maybe getting chemo will finally help me lose those extra pounds!"  SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! Please know that the only reason we lose weight is that we are so damn nauseous that we can hardly eat a morsel of food. I personally survived on water, 1/4 cup of mashed potatoes and 2 crackers on any given day. Do you know how few calories that is? 

"I so love that I get to take Tamoxifen for the next 10 years!"  SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! I am now in my second menopausal stint and have gained 30lbs! WEEEEE!

"I'm just going to make this the most positive experience in my life!"  SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! Yeah right! While thinking positive is a common motto for many, it doesn't mean that this gig is still not chock-full of the most challenging and scary experiences. Positivity is just a bonus that we all dig down deep for.

"I'm so glad that it's only breast cancer!"  SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER!  Bwah Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!

"I've always wanted to wear a wig!"  SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! FYI, they're hot, uncomfortable and itchy-scratchy on a bald head! You try it while being bald and get back to me on this one!

"I'm not afraid to die!"  SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! Let's get real here - we're all afraid to die. We know that this is a possibility and a reality, but we're just not ready to die yet!

"Having cold breasts during hot weather is so awesome and convenient!" SAID NO BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR - EVER! Unless you need to help chill a summer salad or a six-pack, the implants are just that - COLD!

I'm Twalking Twitter People!

This post has been long and coming as I've vacillated for months about coming out of the Twitter closet (there I said it). But to my credit, I've been running a Twitter feed for the past 2 years for two business' and frankly tired of not being able to #follow who I damn well wanted to. Instead of being PC in Twitterville, I decided I wanted my own, personal account so that I could get all the latest and greatest deals from Groupon, Travelocity and track the food trucks in L.A. just for fun.

But that didn't last especially long because within a month of getting my own big girl account, I received news that I had cancer. So, my elation for Groupon deals swiftly wained as news of this third diagnosis was a total buzz kill. Instead I sheepishly started seeking out resources for breast cancer and started to connect with some fellow survivors. Next thing you know I have more than 600 followers (people who follow me) and Monday night live chats for my online support group #BCSM (Breast Cancer Social Media).

My language swiftly changed from friending and liking on that other social media website with a lowercase 'f' to hashtags and followers on my new social networking platform with the little birdie. With 140 characters at my fingertips, I rapidly learned that hashtags like #cancersucks and #breastcancer would lead me to a community of sassy warriors and people in my malignant new world.

So vastly different from my first diagnosis of getting into the car once a week to drive to the nearest cancer center support group, I have come to find solace and anonymity with my online gal-pals going through breast cancer of all different stages. I even found a '3-peat offender' like me and an immediate twriendship was made.

We have supported each other in ways that I never expected. We're blogging about this prolific disease, discussing the politics of the Susan G. Komen Foundation and debating about the out-of-control pink culture of finding a cure for all of us. With names like 'thescarproject,' 'bustedfd,' 'ItsTheBunk,' 'BoobsOnTheMove,' 'LovelyKatieLumps,' 'CancerHAWK,' 'ChemoBrainFog,' 'StupidDumbBreastCanc' and 'TalkAboutHealth' and 'AFreshChapter' - we're connected in a way that is frankly, safe, bold and downright authentic.

Wishing each other good luck on important procedure days and offering up helpful hints for chemo, surgery and doctors, we're running in a strong pack. With no time to waste, the 140 character restriction allows us to get straight to the point. And when we're mad as hell at times as we've lost a few gals this past year to this beast of a cancer, we're all trying to take charge of our own journeys in a virtual and supportive fashion. And for this, I am eternally grateful to my kindhearted and spirited tweeps.

So, follow or hashtag me @DeeAnne_Barker to catch up with me in the twittersphere! In the meantime, #peaceout.

When I Was Sick (Guest post by Dena Taylor)

**Welcome guest blogger and my 500th Twitter follower, Dena Taylor. I wrote her and asked, "As my 500th follower, would you be willing to write a guest post from your point of view with cancer?" and she said "Wow! Yes!"  and... "Congrats on your 3-time victory over emeffing cancer!" And there you have it, a new 'Breast Friend' to add to the lot of us. Thank you, Dena!

_________________________________________________________________________

“What movie are you guys gonna watch?” I asked my friend Alice’s 5-year-old daughter Claire on a recent visit.

“Despicable Me,” said Alice.

“The wha?”

Claire grabbed the DVD case out of Alice’s hands and held it up for me to read.

“Ooh, ‘Despicable Me.’ That looks fun!”

“Yeah,” said Claire. “They’re bald. Like when you were sick.”

~~~

One time, in my early 20’s I drank too much Bacardi 151 and Diet Coke and was sick for three days. Another time, while on a fancy boat in the Caribbean, I got seasick during a storm and barfed into a bidet. I was sick to death of hearing Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” when it played on the radio for the 50-millionth time and was once so lovesick, I dropped a pant size. Friends accuse me of being sick in the head, usually when I drop the word “moist” into a conversation or tell the story about what I found on the wall of a port-o-potty at a 5k event in Seattle.

There have been more serious sicknesses too, the worst of which required emergency hospitalization, once for a ruptured appendix and once for a small bowel obstruction, likely the result of the former’s post-op adhesions. But never, in any of the aforementioned instances, have I not had hair.

So what, then, was wee Claire referring to? That would be the one and only time I was bald. But it wasn’t because I was sick. In fact, in September of 2006, I felt particularly healthy and happy — randy, even — knowing that my best friend and I were just weeks away from celebrating my 40^th birthday in Italy where we would surround ourselves with as many sexy Italian men as we could find. I had no idea a cancerous tumor was growing in my breast. But a routine mammogram and subsequent biopsy confirmed it, prompting me to swap our festive trip to Italy for a somber trek to the OR. It was an agonizing decision but having had microcalcifications in the opposite breast three years before at the age of 36 and a mother with a history of DCIS, a bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction was the only choice I could live with.

Then, in early November, thinking the worst was behind me, and reconstruction nearly complete, I got more bad news. I scored “intermediate” on the Oncotype test, a genomic assay used to help determine the likelihood of recurrence and benefits of chemotherapy. After consulting with two oncologists, I ended up enduring six tri-weekly rounds of chemotherapy (FAC + WBC boosters). My first infusion was after Thanksgiving and I was cue-balled in time for Christmas.

Hair loss was a side effect of chemo. So were the headaches, bone aches and nausea I felt in the first days after an infusion. And the fatigue, brain fuzz, digestive calisthenics, persistent watery eyes and a runny nose in the remaining 16 or so days of each cycle? Side effects. I expected them, planned for them and managed them. But I was never sick.

So chemo sucked worse than back-to-back episodes of the Beverly Hills Housewives and after eating a few salmonella burritos while wrapped in a Snuggie of mold spores but you were never “sick?” C’mon.

I know and I’ve been thinking about my post-cancer refusal to equate those side effects with being sick ever since I was likened to a bald, yellow, cylinder-shaped homunculi. What I’ve realized is this: Of all the health challenges I’ve faced, it’s cancer that has scared me the most, and thus it’s cancer I want to identify with the least. If I yield to it in any way, even by saying I was sick, I’m giving it more power in my life than it deserves. I don’t want to think about it every day or spend precious time worrying about it coming back. There are too many other things vying for my attention, like traveling to Peru, sipping on a Moscow Mule while catching up with friends, that cute guy on the running trail. When I do think about it, I want to focus on how I confronted it (with support, determination and some luck) versus dwelling on what I suffered.

People are going to describe my cancer and chemo days as the time I was sick. And that’s okay. It’s another opportunity to share my experience, generate awareness and support someone new in navigating the scene. But the squat, yellow, bug-eyed minion comparison? That could be a problem.

~~~

Dena is finishing her memoir on her cancer experience, which includes plenty of descriptions of being sick. It does not include the story about what she saw in the port-a-potty. That story is by special request only and requires a signed waiver because it’s really gross. You can also find Dena on Twitter @DenaTaylorTime and on her website, www.denataylor.com

Happy Chemo Cancerversary!

Can you believe it?! I can hardly believe it myself that an entire year has passed since I finished my last chemo treatment! Even though I still had 8 more months of infusion treatments to go, the completion of the hard-core chemo was definitely the biggest accomplishment to date! And like many survivors who look back at these milestones and dates, I'm marking this one with a celebratory thumbs up - fo sho!!

Last year at this time, I had some pretty heavy-duty chemo drugs running through the 'ol veins along with some gnarly nausea. I could barely choke down 3 bites of mashed potatoes for a meal and was subject to some pretty bizarre and absurd reality tv as my main source of entertainment. I was bedridden for a full week after that session while I patiently waited for some fuzz to show up on my head.

Fast forward a year later and life is treating me pretty damn good! I may still have some daily nausea from the leftover chemo still running through my veins and my new daily drugs are having me walk like I'm 98, but dang, NOTHING like last year! And on top of all of that, I'm sporting a new head of darker hair! So, damn if I'm not partaking and devouring in some fish tacos, beer and guacamole tonight with friends!

As for the outlandish tv viewing these days, I've seemed to wean myself off of a few of those reality shows. But I must admit, watching them still makes me feel like having cancer for a third time wasn't as bad as those people's lives.

So there you have Cancer #3 - another year, another survivor and a new lease on life! BOOYAH!

Do YOU need a Cancervention?

Not too many months ago, my brother-in-law Nate, sat me down at the dinner table in his house and said "Yog, I think it's time for a cancervention!" Contemplative and serious, he continued -  "We've noticed that you seem to be needing a lot of attention these days. You know, with the boob job and the new hair cut, it just seems that you're trying to make a statement and go to such extremes to get a little extra attention and I'm hear to tell you Yog, we already notice you. We love you, we already think you're great so you don't need to be doing all of this. It's just not necessary."

Pause for reaction, and........BWAHAHAHA!

We both burst out into laughter, clinked our wine glasses (well, juice for me!) and carried on with our game night. Hilarious I thought. A Perfect way to check in with me and make light of an extremely sensitive and serious situation. But it got me to thinking, did I need a cancervention? Do we all need a cancervention? I don't really think so.

Yet, this led my mind down a path and thought process that not only myself but many other of my 'breast friends' and cancer survivors have repeatedly discussed - When will we be over the whole cancer thing? Are we supposed to be over something that threatened our lives? Should we just fold it up and tuck it neatly away while we silently and secretly wait for the other shoe to drop? What happens when the emotions start flooding our hearts and brain? The fear can be gripping if you allow it.

My dad unexpectedly died 15 years ago and I'm still not 'over' that loss. And like cancer, I think of him every day. It definitely gets easier with time, but those emotions still hit me at the heart level. I talk about him a lot like I do cancer. I make life comparisons to him as I do with breast cancer. I strive to gain that balance between moving forward and still processing these huge events in my life. So, as I strive to find meaning and acceptance of my cancer trilogy, I also covet the 'silver linings,' 'takeaways,' 'gems' and hidden treasures' of cancer. After all, I have an appointment with life as Thich Nhat Hanh says. Sounds simple enough, right?! And if suffering leads to understanding and eventual transformation into healing and well-being, then sign me up!

So the moral to this cancervention story is this - life after cancer remains uncertain. We are not guaranteed a cure but are merely promised a 'remission' (I'll take it!). Re-entry back into life 'A.C.' (After Cancer) is not always that smoothe but trying to plan and figure things out is the 'Booby prize' as my mother would say (pun intended). But like any animal, I suppose I will simply lick my wounds and stay present so that I can discover the new magic in life with my new normal.

And so it is.