Cancer
Today I am grateful for concerted family effort to prepare, enjoy, and clean up after a wonderful Thanksgiving meal, and for some sledding fun with our grandson Leo.
Returning to the A-Z list of challenges, C is for CANCER. Six letters that have wreaked so much havoc on my sisters and I. Six years ago, we were holding steady in survivorship. Six months ago, my sister Mary Jo was in her final weeks of life.
Eleven years ago, I was recovering from my fourth and final round of chemotherapy and preparing for my third and final surgery--bilateral mastectomy.
Challenges showed themselves in many ways throughout those months. One of the most challenging times was the several-week period between my confirmed diagnosis on May 29, 2008 and my first surgery--lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy--on July 17. There is nothing easy about knowing you have cancer in your body and having to wait several weeks for the next big step. I took uptight to a new level.
It was a challenge to undergo chemo and be physically slowed down, really for the first time in my life. Cancer definitely robbed me of my youthful sense of health and security, and chemo definitely made me feel like the cancer patient I was.
The picture below was after one round of chemo. It took a couple weeks before my hair started coming out and my stylist Lori kindly came to our house to shave my head. My husband Darcy shaved his in support of me. (Now it is his typical cut, but it wasn't then.) I am struck by my bright smile in this picture. Three more rounds of chemo would dim the brightness and have me looking puffy and less healthy.
Returning to the A-Z list of challenges, C is for CANCER. Six letters that have wreaked so much havoc on my sisters and I. Six years ago, we were holding steady in survivorship. Six months ago, my sister Mary Jo was in her final weeks of life.
Eleven years ago, I was recovering from my fourth and final round of chemotherapy and preparing for my third and final surgery--bilateral mastectomy.
Challenges showed themselves in many ways throughout those months. One of the most challenging times was the several-week period between my confirmed diagnosis on May 29, 2008 and my first surgery--lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy--on July 17. There is nothing easy about knowing you have cancer in your body and having to wait several weeks for the next big step. I took uptight to a new level.
It was a challenge to undergo chemo and be physically slowed down, really for the first time in my life. Cancer definitely robbed me of my youthful sense of health and security, and chemo definitely made me feel like the cancer patient I was.
The picture below was after one round of chemo. It took a couple weeks before my hair started coming out and my stylist Lori kindly came to our house to shave my head. My husband Darcy shaved his in support of me. (Now it is his typical cut, but it wasn't then.) I am struck by my bright smile in this picture. Three more rounds of chemo would dim the brightness and have me looking puffy and less healthy.
More challenges awaited me, but on this Saturday in September of 2008, I felt the tremendous blessings of my supportive husband, and family, friends, and healthcare providers. Between rounds three and four of chemo, I wrote a poem about keeping perspective.
There are far worse things to lose than hair. Or breasts. Far worse. One of cancer's silver linings for me is remembering this, and living this day as the gift it is.
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