The Glad Game Sucks

If you have never met my mother, you are missing out on one of the most awesome individuals you can imagine. If you have met her, then you have been infuriated by her endless creativity and positiveness at one point or another. I can only imagine how many of you are laughing hysterically because you know how many times you have wanted to say, "________ (she wears a lot of hats, so put your title for her here) get a grip," only to decide that she was the one who had one and you were in need of perspective or growth. Growing up with this woman, who seems to glide miraculously through things that tear other people to shreds, has made me the person I am today. 

BUT (there is always a BUT) Mom, you forgot to remind me that Pollyanna had to endure a whole lot of crap before she learned that the Glad Game was worth it. Any game that starts with getting crutches instead of a doll, includes losing your dad, being moved into a hostile environment, and requires you to fall out of a tree (or get hit by a car, depending on if you are reading or watching), break your legs, and learn to walk again in order for everything to work out...why the hell is this your favorite?!?!?! :)

Oh, it is because when those test results come back and the doctor says it's cancer again. You can truly see the positive in his words. It isn't a recurrence, it is a new cancer (this one I am still working for the silver lining so don't ask me). It is Stage 0, very early=very good. It is "in situ", inside the ducts, not in the regular breast tissue=good. I think that non-invasive is tied to in situ, but I like non-invasive enough that it gets its own sentence. All of those mean that I will have another lumpectomy and more radiation, but no systemic treatment=no chemo.

It took a few days to get my mind to accept this new turn and to understand that my path just wasn't complete yet. But at least I didn't need to whole town to come calling to make me play the Glad Game. 

Thanks Mom!!! (Freaking Pollyanna wins again.....)

Has it really been a year...

I feel like I should apologize for my lack of writing, but that would be like apologizing for celebrating for the last 12 months... For those who have been reading that long, can you hardly believe that a year has gone by since I was declared a "pathological responder"??? (still my favorite way to say NO MORE CANCER IN MY BODY)

And yet as I type that sentence, I have to admit that this milestone isn't without its own touché moment. As in, haha caught ya thinking life was headed back to normal. Or, haha you thought you could start planning in to the future. Or, HAHAHA you thought this adventure was coming to an end.... Think again lady.

My team of doctors have been watching the cyst in my liver and the cysts on my ovaries pretty carefully the last few months. (Since it is late, I have to tell you that my brain wants to include a "don't drink the CT scan Kool-Aid" joke, but I am pretty sure that it is waaaaaay funnier in my head than as part of this post.) To add to the lurking cysts, at my last oncology appointment my doctor felt a new lump, this time in my left breast. I have gone for an MRI and an ultrasound, and that was followed by an MRI guided biopsy to confirm that it is just a lumpy boob. (still awaiting results)

I don't know how to describe my mood right now. Nervous, yes. Terrified, hell yes. Yet calm, I have a team of doctors whom Sean and I both trust. (a team of doctors I was looking forward to not seeing as much of....) I also have this sense of confidence that things will work out, but I don't have a gut feeling about what the path will look like. I don't know whether to expect a long battle, or if this is just a flash in the pan of nothingness. I mean really how much of a tool will I look like when I come to say, "oh it was nothing." And am I destined to have these thoughts every time my boobs feel a little lumpy??? And how often are my boobs going to feel lumpy???? Holy crap, am I going to have to go through this every time I go for a follow up appointment??? And how am I supposed to tell what is normal every day wear and tear on my body and what is something I need to think of as a potential symptom? How do you answer "how are you feeling today?" when asked by a doctor?

But I am letting go of those worries today. Today is a day for celebration. Today they take out my chemo-port!!!!! This is the milestone that feels like true completion, an end to a path. So the next time you see me it will be with one more scar and one less bump. Can't wait!!!