November 14, 2017. Breast Cancer. Invasive ductal carcinoma - ER + PR + HERS. Stage 2, grade 3. Right breast, 2.7 cm tumor, lymph nodes negative. And, for those of you who care or understand, oncotype score 35. Lumpectomy Dec 7th. Twenty weeks of chemo - four red devil infusions and 12 taxol. Four weeks of radiation. Sure, I knew I was going to go through some crappy shit for a few months, but then it would be over and I'd simply get back to life. HA - Funny how your mind plays tricks on you in order to cope. I didn't really know I had cancer until eight months later.
One day shortly after my diagnosis I was thinking about what I wish I had done more of, what had I left unfinished. I didn't think about this because my prognosis was bad. In fact it was very good. But, cancer just makes you think about things differently. Surprisingly the first thing to come to mind (after of course the spending more time with family) was reading - I wish I read more. I used to,but somewhere it got lost in the shuffle. There is nothing better than coffee on the deck (especially on Sunday) and a book. I hardly ever do that. The second thing was no surprise. Ironman - unfinished business. The words I wrote to my coach in my 2013 "why?" section of my race plan came back:
- Ok, so here it is. I've been thinking about this a lot and had not been coming up with the thing until I got my bid number. My father was big into numbers and signs – I got that from him. J I was looking for some meaning in the numbers when I realized they were the month and day that my father died. Why on earth would the day he died be significant – you know rather than his birthday or something a little more pleasant?I hated that day and not just because of the obvious. In his last days, my father struggled because he was so reluctant to let go without having taken care of the things he was supposed to or wanted to do. I know this because he kept repeating them in his very restless, semi-conscience, morphine state. "I have to do …. I have to take care of ……"I do not want to die that way. My bid number is the answer to my "why."
Fast forward eight months. I was about a month out of chemo and I was dealing with some neuropathy in my feet. Wasn't I suppose to be back to normal? The nurses said it might be permanent. Then, in my first appointment with the radiation nurse I was told that I would need to stay out of the sun for 6 - 12 months. After that I would need to use sunscreen to protect my right shoulder and shoulder blade area because it would always be sensitive. Permanent side effects?! There was no going back to normal. This was the "new normal" I kept hearing people talk about. And it hit me - I had cancer and I was pissed. Finally I realized why so many people say "f' cancer." I had been wanting to climb the 200 step incline at Miller Park since before treatment started. We did it that weekend. At the bottom when I was finished, I yelled "f*%! cancer" as loud as I could.
No more excuses. I gave myself two years and started a plan. August I would focus on finishing radiation, paying attention to my eating habits, and walking - walking with purpose as one of my former coaches would say! With a bad knee and the neuropathy, any 26.2 in my future would have to be a walk and it would have to be a fast walk! I created an inspiration log and broke the two years into quarters. My first quarter (September to December) focus would be healthy eating and building my walking speed and distance.
August included 39 miles of walking, a dozen very easy strength session, and the loss of a few pounds. I wasn't sleeping until 9:00 or 10:00 a.m. because I laid awake until 2:00 a.m. I felt like I was walking taller. I started wearing exercise clothes again. I climbed those stairs again. I started remembering what it felt like before.
There are several people on FB who are great inspirations to me. Last week one of them wrote this...
- "People say I'm crazy, why put my body through this?? Because this is who I am. Training for Ironman has gotten me through some of my darkest times."
- "It’s the pain I think I’m addicted to because of the mental strength it gives me to get through life’s challenges."
This would be a good place to mention that two weeks after my diagnosis I lost my job. We couldn't move because of the HMO that our cobra covered. Our family and friends are on the other side of the country and we know virtually no one in Colorado. (though the couple we do know have been phenomenal friends!) There's been no income for nine months and I have no idea what's next. No idea who I was suppose to be now. My point is, it's been a little dark and I could totally relate to those quotes!
I was driving to radiation after reading that post. I thought about my early morning walks and the four miles I was able to do only two weeks after starting. I thought about climbing the 200 step incline. It felt great and it all helped with the stress. (I don't think it is any coincidence that this was at the same time I was seeing eyelashes and eyebrows again!!!) I thought, wow have I missed this! This is me.
Yesterday was my last day of radiation. Perfect timing for starting my "new normal" plan today - September 1st.
P.S. I'm keeping this hair cut - I think its kinda bad ass :)
