Step 4: Radiation (and go back to work)

Burned boobies ahead....

I have been told A LOT that radiation is the easiest of of all the cancer crap that I have to face. But that sure didn't stop me from being completely freaked out by not just the process, but the aftermath too. Its like this dirty little secret of cancer survivors and doctors alike. Its easy, and then they use the phrases "dry peel" and "wet peel". Who thinks either of these things sound as though they will be easy?!?!?! And if you are going to pretend that "wet peel" doesn't sound scary, now imagine that whatever the hell that is is going to happen to your boob and armpit......

While I am not quite sure I agree with it, I am going to trust in my doctors, friends, and family that this is a necessary step in staying CANCER FREE. For the record, getting radiation is freaky from start to finish. The whole process starts with a simulation and getting marked (medical term for getting new dot tattoos). I have never wanted any sort of tattoo anywhere near the girls, but a dot smack dap in the middle of my chest was seriously the most painful poke I have had yet.

Every day (5 days a week) I have to go to the hospital. I take the elevator to the basement of the cancer building and scan my ID card to tell them I am there. The techs go get my body holder while I go to the locker room and put on my hospital gown. By the time you get this far in the game of being sick you don't even have to ask what to do anymore, waist up nudie butt. Then I have a seat in the gowned waiting room. (There are separate locker rooms for men and women, but once gowned you all sit uncomfortably in the same waiting area. Most of the time it is me in my gown feeling naked and like I am surrounded by old men who apparently don't have to put on gowns to be in the gowned waiting area.... there has to be some sort of injustice in this. It's gowned waiting, shouldn't everyone have to be in a stinky gown???? And today mine was clean and stinky--the kind of stink that makes you sniff your armpits to be sure it isn't you. I would have grabbed another, but that would have meant opening the door to the gowned waiting room full of old men with no shirt on at all.....)

Once they feel you have suffered just enough humiliation in gowned waiting the techs come get you and lead you back to the treatment room. I have a really hard time accepting the word treatment when I walk through the 12 foot wide 2 foot thick "door" with a handle that looks like a bank vault and a radioactive hazard sign on it. That is where my heart starts to race a little. Gratefully, all of the people in this department move really fast. Can't say that I blame them, if the door to my classroom looked like that I would spend as little time in there as I possibly could. They put you on a tiny table, put a rubberband around your feet, and uncover all of your dot tattoos and of course one boob. Using laser beams that shoot out from the wall they line you all up so that the poison treatment always goes to the same spot. They flick the lights off and leave the room (it is at this point that the telephone always seems to ring and I wonder who would call this room and what would be so important that the techs would stand still long enough to answer it). Then the machine turns on and start making its cross between a click and a beep and a hum sound while it slowly rotates around the table. After the longest 5 minutes ever they come back in and send me on my way. It is very surreal....

I have 7 out of the 33 treatments done, so by the end of October I will have another item checked off the cancer treatment list!!

And like most days, I'm tired out from radiation and being a mom so I will have to save the back to work stories for another post!

Step 3: Surgery

I have been so busy celebrating that I have forgotten to update my blog.... Actually, I've started to write this piece several different times, but have been dissatisfied with the plainness and just haven't had the heart to click submit on something not worth reading past the first paragraph. I mean after you read that my surgeon performed a lumpectomy and removed 9 more lymph-nodes and at my first follow up she declared that my pathology report came back as a complete responder, what else is there for you to read?

The fact that I was able to attend Burke Week 2012 in Lackawaxen, PA with my family before surgery becomes kind of second rate when compared to I'M CANCER FREE!!! Even if I try to one up it with the fact that my brother was able to come home from Japan for three weeks or the fact that we were able to take a photo of all of the first cousins for the first time in years. I'M CANCER FREE still wins.

I could attempt to tell you about surgery day. That Sean and I arrived late at the surgery center (and for this I am sure I am going to suffer the wrath of Karma in the near future). After being checked in at the counter, they handed Sean his visitor's badge and he politely asked for extras for the rest of our family who were on their way. We picked a seating area and sat in uncomfortable silence waiting for them to call me back. How my mom, dad, brother, and hubby were just this side of crazy (you decide which side of crazy this is) when they called me back, alone. Their my family's concern caused the nurses to push my wheelchair through the waiting room on the way to have the ________ stuck in my boob so that I could get/give one more kiss (I have no idea what the giant needle/probe that they stuck in me, wiggled around until it was in the tumor tissue, mammogrammed, then left dangling was actually called). The fact that I didn't pass out from pride or embarrassment or hunger doesn't even compare to the fact that I'M CANCER FREE.

An adventure in having a bridal shower to honor one of the sweetest young women I get to call family for 50+of her closest friends and family at my house, no in my house because the weather didn't cooperate, a week after surgery would seem humdrum and rather boring. Especially in comparison to I'M CANCER FREE. (Don't worry, I didn't do much of the preparations. I have been getting pretty good at following orders.)

Even if I tried to fake a lamentation about having to go back to work and the end of summer blues. It really wouldn't make the post any better since you have already read that I'M CANCER FREE.

Three weeks ago, I had a lumpectomy to remove what was left of my tumor. I am pleased to report that at my follow-up appointment the surgeon informed me that I am a complete pathological responder.   It's a good thing that she was as excited to report this as I was to get it because if she weren't smiling I think I might have cried. Complete and pathological are not easy words to hear together... So it should come as no surprise that my first question was, "What does that mean?" Thankfully, it means (in my words) that the tumor was shrunk enough that she was able to take out all the bad cells, there was enough space for her to take a little extra tissue (clear margins), and in the nine lymph nodes that were removed there was no cancer left.

So we know that the chemo drugs are effective and the surgery got it all out. At this point I AM CANCER FREE!!!!! I still have to go through radiation and finish the hormone drugs, but those are to maintain my cancer free status. It is going to be a busy fall, filled with appointments and work and getting involved in my new community.

In case you didn't quite get the picture, I want to tell you that I'M CANCER FREE!!!!!!!!

Let the celebrations continue!!!!!!!! Tutus, tiaras, and running shoes are ready to be put on!!!!!!!!!!

A little bit of lemonade....

Life tosses everyone some lemons. I am starting to understand why the adage suggests that you make lemonade; rarely do you just get tossed one lemon. If it was just one challenge at a time the adage might suggest a shot of tequila and a slice of lemon to suck on to drown the sorrows and move ahead, but instead it suggests lemonade. To me, lemonade is a drink that implies a pitcher to share with young and old alike. One that you would have waiting for unexpected company so that you could sit and chat on the front porch. I have been told quite a bit that this little blog is definitely a place for everyone who loves me to come and share a glass of lemonade with me on my journey. So grab a glass, add some ice, a shot of something fun if you want it, and don't forget the lemonade...... it is time for another celebration!!!!!!!!!!

I am done with CHEMOTHERAPY!!!!

It is hard to believe that I have only been doing this for 16 weeks. When I started, I knew that the time would go much faster than it sounded. I knew that it would be hard emotionally and physically. I knew that I would never be alone. It is this last one that has made the first leg of this journey soooo much easier. To those who have sent cards and emails (especially those that have gone unanswered), THANK YOU. I have all of them in my "boobie binder" and "BC folder" that I take with me to each appointment. When the going got tough I knew that you were there cheering me on. 

I have to share with you that this blog has a brutal editor. She doesn't let just anything get posted. There are 3 half completed posts that will never see your screen because they don't possess enough humor, have too much raw emotion (can't go freaking people out), or just aren't interesting enough to let her click the publish button. Take for example this paragraph:

It is just after midnight and I should be snuggled into bed and soundly asleep. Alas, it is the Tuesday before my LAST chemo treatment and I'm nearly as anxious as I was for the first one. This time the anxiety is more from the fear of the future than from the treatment. I know how chemo feels and that the side effects get progressively worse with each treatment. Which means I have some serious night sweats and joint pain coming my way in the next week, but I also know that this will be the LAST treatment. (Can you read my personal pep talk between those lines? The one that says that I will never have to do this again, ever? Because sometimes that worry is the hardest part to overcome...)

Blah, blah, whining again..... not going out to readers. I can't very well do that again. (even if the night sweats and joint aches are a super suckfest that I don't wish for anyone, ever)

There is one where I tried to express my gratitude and excitement for Pig Roast 2012: Pink Roast. 

So I have slowed down for 16 weeks. I have slept more than I ever thought my body was capable of sleeping. I have sat on the couch for entire days. I didn't teach an entire quarter of the school year. I can't run, bike, or swim as far/fast/often as I want. AND the cherry on the top of this suck sundae, I won't get to enjoy Pig Roast 2012 quite the way I would like.

"Pig Roast?" you ask, "what's that?" I will do my best to explain, but if you end up more confused than you are right now you just about have it understood.

Pig Roast is the annual gathering of the Tribe to celebrate life and all that it has given us in the past year. This year is the 18^th time the Tribe has gathered and those who have stepped up to organize the weeklong event made it intentionally close to me so that I could be there for whatever my treatment/body will allow. Pig Roast is usually a weeklong “vacation” with all the swimming, game playing, and camaraderie you can imagine. The kind of weeklong fun and debauchery that has most tribe members saying that they need a vacation from their vacation. I look forward to this week every year. (with chemo and its hangover looming in the middle of the weeklong festivities I am less enthused to go and watch instead of play, but I love my tribe and treasure every moment we get together)

I know that means that I am now supposed to tell you about The Tribe, but after three valiant attempts to describe this group of people I am struggling. Remember when you were little and your parents would say you can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family? They were only half right.   Our parents forgot to tell us that sometimes there are friends that touch our hearts and poison our livers enough that we end up joined together in a beautiful extended family. It is those people, the ones that end up more than friends that became The Tribe. In most circles of friends, you are usually asked about who you know or what your connection is when someone new is introduced. In the tribe the question is less of who do you know and more of, “where was your first roast?” As the years go by it is fun to reminisce about all the different places we have gone and the adventures we have had.

In typical Tribe fashion, I measure my membership by my first Pig Roast. For this city-loving, camping-is-done-at-a-campground girl my first roast was at Muck-Leech Lake (I have no idea if that is the real name of the lake or not, but it was mucky and full of leeches and I never went in it). Sean and I arrived after a long drive, my first goal was to find the bathroom. You can imagine my horror when I was pointed in the direction of the outhouse. You can appreciate the people in my tribe when I say that by the time I finished using the outhouse and walked back to the rustic campsite that the tent was set up and a cold beer was waiting for me. (and for the record I only had to pee… and it was an outhouse, in case you forgot… that had been used for the better part of a week… they were that fast)

I see why this one was rejected by the editor there was not enough gratitude or enough excitement. Blah, blah, you love them, blah, blah, whine about being too sick to play along… Plus, this doesn’t even begin to do Pig Roast or The Tribe justice.

I guess that just leaves this post with one question to answer, “Now that chemo is done, what comes next in the cancer journey?” I promised in the beginning to only take small steps at a time, but being more experienced/informed allows you to see a broader picture.

Small step—surgery on August 2^nd. Since the tumor has shrunk and is considered to be responding to the treatments the plan is that surgery will just be a lumpectomy (as opposed to a mastectomy). This means that they will take out the cells where the cancer was along with a small bit of healthy tissue (known as clear margins). Also, 3 out of the 4 lymph nodes that were removed when my port was placed were cancerous, I will also have some of the lymph nodes in that area removed.

Larger picture—I have to keep the evil port a little longer (it still isn’t normal to me). I will continue to have the hormone drug Herceptin infused every week until the beginning of September, then it will change to every 3 weeks until next summer. In addition, I will start radiation after surgery. That schedule hasn’t been completely laid out for me, but I can count on 6-7 weeks of it.

So bottoms up on this celebration! There will be more celebrations to come (maybe we will get lucky enough to run out of lemons for a while)!!! Thank you again for stopping by and having a glass with me, I always love good company.

75% done....

From chemo Thursday:
I am sitting in chemo appointment #6, and felt that I had to start this post now or else I might forget something (something I have been even more prone to do lately). As I signed in and wished the front office girls my standard "Happy Thursday" I was approached by the nicest woman. (I really wish I remember her exact words, she was so diplomatic and yet blunt about what she wanted to know.) She was interested in my opinion of the office and my journey, and she looked on the outside exactly how I feel on the inside. (stressed, worried, like she was going to crack at any moment I) I gave her a big hug, and I immediately reached for my Thirty-One card and wrote the blog address on the back. Like I was going to fit my story and emotions in the 3-4 minutes before she was called while she was supposed to be filling out paperwork... Good luck with me fitting any one story into 3-4 minutes.

To my (our) new friend--I hope you have made it here and read about my journey. I hope that you really do give me a call; I have some things I could ask you too!! I hope that you have found a doctor that you trust and have faith in. I hope that you find some inner peace once you know your next steps and believe that they are the right ones for you. I hope that while it sounds as though our journeys have different paths that we both end up kicking some serious cancer ass. :)

From Monday:
Ouch. Ick. Ugh. Those are the words I have for Taxol. I try not to complain here too much, and certainly don't want anyone to worry. I am 75% done and two more treatments I can do easy peasy at this point. (what? it isn't like I can ask them to take it back or say, "ya know, I'm done with this. I'm going to skip the last two." --because you know you have done that with an antibiotic or class or book) That being said, and because this is my little corner of cyberspace, I'm gonna whine for a few.

First, my joints hurt like no other. 800mg of Motrin and 5mg of melatonin puts enough of a dent in it that I think in the past three days I have managed 8 good hours of sleep total. Usually just as I fall asleep is when Sean's alarm goes off, and I spend 30+ minutes trying to peel my eyes open (knowing gratefully that it can take me as long as I need--Thank you Dad S!!!). Only to discover that this is another morning that my toes are going to start off numb. Crossing my fingers that my fingers stay achy and sore (instead of turning numb). I have a new med to start tonight that is supposed to help with some of this.

Second, to all of my family and friends who are passing another female only milestone, specifically menopause, OMG this crap sucks. I really hope that God has some sort of plan for explaining these atrocities when we get to Heaven. Not even kidding, why exactly do we have to bear the indignity of having a period for (well normal people) 30 years or so then this.... Who hasn't heard the old joke about never trust something that bleeds for 7 days??? Oh wait, I forgot the part about Auntie Flo arriving unexpectedly/unannounced/brutally at some random time in your life when you are most vulnerable and confused about the world. Then when she is leaving you have these lovely things that people refer to as hot flashes, or in my case right now, night sweats. I wake up 2-3 times a night feeling like I just spent an hour in a sauna. My dear friends who are, like I was, not even contemplating the concept of menopause, be kind to your moms, this stage sucks.

Final whine, I promise, I just want to feel better!!!!!!

From Friday: (no spoiler, don't worry I know most of you are going to see this movie)
If you are contemplating seeing the new movie Brave, do IT!!!!!!!! Great movie! Bring your mom, daughter, and tissues (wish I had waited to see it with my mom)! I love the old school Princesses with all of my heart for all of the fun and fancy that I have enjoyed because of them. BUT it is about time Disney made one like the strong and wonderful women I look up to and those I want my daughter to look up to.

Compliment to contest

I'm not sure if I have written about this yet, but I think I at least mentioned it at one point... But I am going to rehash the story anyway for my own self serving reasons. In case you read no further, please vote for me.

The story starts with all the emotions that go along with hair-loss due to chemo therapy. I was feeling like GI Jane with nothing to prove and an insatiable appetite in the morning. It was a Friday, so when the boys said they were going to breakfast and to get hair cuts and asked if I wanted to come along I  said, "OK." (laughing out loud now at the humor in the fact that I had just shaved all my hair off and was choosing to go into a barber shop)

For the record, Sean is waaaaaaaaay more picky about where he gets his hair cut than I am. His favorite place, Rex's Barber Shop, still charges $7 a haircut and I would be willing to bet that the interior decor has not changed since the 50s. The kind of place where they actually use a straight razor to clean up. I am 100% certain that they will never ask if he would like a glass of red or white, but if he was having a particularly bad day someone might have a bottle of Jack Plague to pass him.... I digress, Rex's is in Dearborn Heights, and since the boys were missing their regular Friday routine breakfast was at Leon's in Dearborn.

Breakfast was uncomfortable for me, it was the first time I went out in public with a scarf on my head. Dearborn has a large Muslim population and seeing a woman with her head covered isn't strange, but I am not Muslim and I have no idea how to wear a hijab (perhaps I was feeling a bit silly too, why doesn't this woman know how to wear her scarf properly? Like there is some right way for a cancer patient to wear a scarf--or be bald-- and not be obvious). I was beyond self-conscious and felt as though every person was staring at me. I knew that they weren't, but it sure did feel like it.

As we were leaving there was a woman who stopped me, she literally grabbed my arm and stopped me. She looked me straight in the eye and said, "You are beautiful. I would like to give you a makeover." It felt great to hear that from a complete stranger. I am a huge fan of giving strangers compliments, but I have never experienced receiving the right one at the exact right moment. Sometimes, God sends people to the exact right moments in your life and all you can do is thank Him.

It turns out that the woman is named Sharon Parker and she is a Mary Kay consultant. We exchanged numbers and when she called me I was still riding the compliment high and agreed to the makeover. Secretly, I was worried that I was going to lose my eyebrows at any moment. Being more tomboy than glitter-girl, I have no idea how to use makeup for everyday things and figured that THIS had to be the right person to show me. I confessed to Sharon my lack of proper glitter-girl training, and that I have no intention of ever wearing makeup as a daily routine. She was understanding and immediately started asking questions about how my treatments make my skin feel.

We decided to do a "night out" look so that I could get all dressed up to celebrate halfway (or whatever I decide to celebrate next). Elizabeth was home that day due to a teacher work day, so I let her play makeover with us. IT WAS SO FUN!!!!!! We tried lots of stuff, picked everything sparkly/shiny/pink/purple or with names like Fancy Nancy, and giggled a lot.

Shameless plug: If you do not have a Mary Kay lady, or just want to check out what they have nowadays her website is www.marykay.com/sharonparker. I ended up getting moisturizer (w/SPF so my head doesn't burn) and the pampered hands lotion in peach (thank God that smell wasn't ruined by chemo). My face is no longer flaky and my hands feel better. AND while I am mentioning direct sales, I am going to make a June Thirty-One order, if you want something let me know!

Before we started Sharon mentioned that there was a contest going on for before and after shots, so we took them. I debated about whether or not to submit my photos for a while. After looking at the website and the rewards, I felt that I had to do it. $2,500 shopping spree and $5,000 to the charity of my choice are two good reasons to play the cancer card. So I did it!!!! (I am the dork that read the fine print to see how these prizes are awarded--turns out I can split the charitable donation between 2 organizations!!!!).  Now I need you to spread the word! Below is the link to vote, you can vote 5 times a day from now until June 15th. Thank you in advance for your support here and belatedly for the countless "you're beautiful"s that you have given me. Trust that every one of them is appreciated.

Mary Kay Makeover. Get Beautiful. Give Back.

Halfway celebrations and a setback...

You have read correctly, I am halfway finished with chemo. The "AC series" (what is AC), is over and done with and I couldn't be happier to see something end. From most accounts AC was the more difficult of my chemotherapy treatments, and some say that I am on the easy side of treatment now. So I will throw out a giant "WaaaaaaHOOOOOO!" for that.

Up next is the Taxol chemotherapy and at the same time I start with the drug Herceptin. What does that mean???? It means that I have 4 more chemo treatments, they still happen every other week on Thursdays. The Herceptin chaser will happen every week to start, then every 3 weeks for a full 52 weeks.  (I can hear your jealousy from here.....) Unfortunately, today my white blood cell count was too low (1.7 when normal is between 4.5-10.5, and that range depends on your doctor/age/illness/whatever fabulous thing they have in store for you). I was not able to start this new series, and now everything is pushed back by 7 days. (bonus crap end of the deal, two more of the shots that improve white blood cell counts, but make me feel like I have the flu. Hopefully, two shots won't make me miserable.)

If I had to describe the feeling I have been carrying all day in one word, ANGER. I'm angry that I have more waiting. I'm angry that I don't feel like I'm sick (all being compared to my new normal of course). I'm really angry that I took an assload of steroids today to prep for the treatment and now I have to do all the detox for those without any "benefits"(do you have any idea how much they make me want to eat!?!?!?!). I'm angry that I haven't been very good at maintaining my composure and have probably taken it out waaaay to much on my kids. I'm angry that I have cancer.

BUT tomorrow is a new day. When it comes I am going to let go of my anger (ok not all of it will go just yet, but the little stuff, I can let some of those go for sure). I have 7 more days to celebrate being halfway done, just wait to you read about what I have done so far! My first act of not angry, I'm just gonna be bald for a bit. (unless I'm cold, which happens a lot especially now that places have turned on the air conditioners) Second, I'm going to the Detroit Race for the Cure and going to attempt to run a little of it (even if it is only 100 yards).

Halfway celebrations:
1A.  Another mammogram was done this week to gauge how big the tumor really is now. It was an interesting experience.... OUCH is the first word I have for you. This stupid tumor is so close to my rib cage that it is really hard to get it under the x-ray machine. I can only tell you that I nearly passed out. As in asked for a chair and water because I saw stars. Not being experienced in passing out I can only tell you that for me the "almost" experience was like the feeling you get when you stand up too fast and see stars. Only that they didn't go away right away and I hadn't moved. So I sat, drank my water, and got through all of my pictures. Then I asked for a glass of juice and crackers. While I was waiting for the radiologist to read the pictures, I had an opportunity to talk again with Nurse Nancy the Navigator. :) We were talking and I showed her my boobie binder that I take to all of my doctor's appointments. She was really impressed, but i think that her favorite part was the envelope that I keep all the cards and notes that I have gotten. I showed her some of my favorites, and she saw my coloring book pages from Elizabeth on the cover. Then she gave me more things to read (because she knew that I would read them, her words "lifelong learner")

So the tally of gropers was able to grow by one (total is now 15) and my tumor has shrunk from 3.7cm to 1.6cm. Halfway done and less than half the original size!!!!!

1B. Grosse Pointe North v Grosse Pointe South girls Varsity Soccer game to benefit breast cancer awareness. Almost immediately after I told my classes about the cancer I had a senior girl, Nadia, ask me if she could wear my name on her jersey in this game. (I think it was her asking that made me positive that being open was the best route on this journey, everyone needs to feel like they are helping in their little way. I really like being able to see the little things that remind me of how many people care.)

So proud of this girl!!!!! She has a heart of gold!!!!!!

2. Dinner out with good friends and good laughs. If you haven't had dinner with the love of your life and a best friend from the old days and her handsome hubby in a long time, I highly suggest that you make the time to do it. And pick a restaurant where you can watch the people go by on one side of you table and the cars go by on the other. We chose Palio in Ann Arbor, and got lucky that it was prom night for some school. The laughs started in the parking garage, Sean's first comment, "Elizabeth will never wear a dress like that." I almost peed myself (for the first time). It was a long purple dress, had (spaghetti--for the girls) straps, her make-up was reasonable, hair was a normal looking up-do, but the top of the empire waist had 1 inch holes at the top (maybe three rows worth).... Having been to both homecoming and prom recently, I was rolling and pissed that I couldn't get my camera out fast enough. He forgets my stories of sewing young girls dresses back together in the bathrooms and the number of pictures that I have avoided.

There are a few other sights I have to share. My favorite couple The Dragons. The girl was wearing a pretty white dress with a hand painted dragon on it. It really was gorgeous. Her date, Sean inserts the correction of her tool, had on a white tux jacket with a similar hand painted dragon. OK, I have to admit that in 10 years that will be an awesome picture. (Speaking as one whose mother still has prom pictures hanging in the house.) However, I have to agree that it is an interesting choice. Again, Sean brought up Elizabeth, something along the lines of I hope she never brings THAT home. Again, I laughed (with Corie's support), he has no idea what his daughter is going to be capable of. She is not my mini-me from when I was little..... I haven't met too many grown men who have said no to her requests followed by the batting of those killer brown eyes. Can't wait to see how this plays out. (*insert best wicked witch of the west cackle here* try it out loud, it feels good)

OK, one more, it was really good people watching. AND I think this next one might be a regular sight, so you could catch it. AND it makes me miss being in school when the weather changes, I have no problem telling my students that they are dressed like hussies. Three girls walk by in their little black dresses. I use the word walk loosely as it was more like a cross between a shuffle and a stumble because not one of them could walk in their heels. Unfortunately, walking was the least of their problems. Their dresses were probably all a size too small. You could, well we watched and laughed (and we were sober) and I may even have been guilty of pointing, see the heads of the restaurant patrons turning to stare. I know my bleeding heart friends are soooooo mad at me right now, but I tell you in the words of a wise woman, "someone else has to sit in that chair next." And I think there is special place reserved for me next to my hubby when we are no longer on this Earth, because who was seated right next to us, yup they were.... I wish I could tell you that the story could stop there, but it was entertaining to see what happened next. The girls not only couldn't dress, or walk in their shoes, but they also don't know basic etiquette. (I will excuse the phones out and all texting or whatever, I'm old. I still think if the average entree costs more than $20, and you have to order a salad separately its weird.) I CANNOT excuse the fact that not one of them crossed their legs at the table,not even the girl whose seat faced the street, Main street. If the cars weren't filled with old men and middle aged couples I swear our meal would have been ruined by the honks. My bleeding heart wanted to go over buy a round and tell them all that they were gorgeous and didn't need to show it ALL to prove it. (and I say all because we decided to skip the comedy show and have dessert, and when the girls left Sean and Marcelo got to see it ALL, think Brittany Spears.) So hopefully they will apply the standard mom test of can you touch your toes without a full moon, sit in a chair without sliming it, and walk safely next time.

3. Watched the Juggalos (Sean's hockey team sponsored by Albert's on the Alley in Garden City) play a great game Sunday to make it to the championship round for their Spring season. In regular Nicole fashion, I was busy talking to the other wives and missed Sean's one handed goal. I wish I could tell you first hand it was amazing, or that I had some piece of juicy gossip I could spill, but I can't. I can tell you that the glimmer of pride in his dad's eye means the world to me. I'm glad he didn't miss it. I love going to his games, reminds me of when we were dating. I love that now there are afternoon games and we can bring our kids out afterwards and they make friends as quickly and easily as we do!!!


So that brings us back to my big let down postponement. I have to say thank you to my GPN family for this week's care package. It was filled with all sorts of goodies, but there is one piece that has made my day and my mind think. It has inspired my change of heart about making sure that I keep my head covered in public to avoid the stares and the questions and well meaning people sharing their stories and kids with their innocent questions/comments. If I'm not cold, or feeling like Purple Betty needs a day/night out, then chances are I'm not going to be covered up the next time you see me. Thank you for all the love and support!!!! Lisa, I have a feeling we are going to need more of these...

So now I will work on another week of halfway celebrations.... If you are running/walking the Detroit Race for the Cure think of me and watch for me in my first pink shirt. I think I have done the RFC in some city or another for 11+ years always running/walking with the thought that curing one cancer will lead to more cures. I never thought I would be so grateful for the ladies in pink that have gone to battle before me. So while I still harbor a bit of my F&*K pink because the purple of Alzheimer's is in need of attention now, as I am celebrating my way through breast cancer survivorship I'm going to relent. I am going to be grateful for the support of all the amazing women in the most undesirable and most loving sorority ever.

My life in 2012 sounds like a country song

The new year began with my stepdad passing away. (I'm sure a good song writer would find a way to include the fact that it happened while my brother was reluctantly flying back to Tokyo). Then came the find a lump and be diagnosed with breast cancer verse. AND then Sunday night we almost added the verse where my dog ran away....

Not being much of a country listener, I am hoping that occasionally things work out for the singer.

For me, Bake, my step-dad, was an awesome influence in my life and I have found myself finding hints of him around me quite a lot lately. I often wonder if its because I miss him and want to think that in heaven he is thinking of me or if somehow those we love who have gone to heaven have the desire/means to send us those reminders as encouragement.

Thursday, I will have my final AC chemo treatment. This only marks the halfway point for chemo, but one series done is a damn good reason to be excited and celebrate. Plus, the doctor said that he can no longer feel the lump and I will need to go for another mammogram to ascertain the size of the tumor now. They placed a titanium chip in the tumor when they did the original biopsy in hopes that this would be the outcome in a worst case scenario--which it turned out to be. This means that they know exactly what tissue the tumor was in and exactly what needs to be removed. (oooooo also means that I will probably have more people to add to the gropers list in my next post....)

AND Henry, our dog, was saved by a kind family on the other side of the busy street by our house. The mom told me that he was almost hit twice, and she could tell that he was a family dog. She called the humane society and between them and the city animal control officers and Sean our furry guy was home before lunch time. He was wet and exhausted, I was relieved.

If all of that can have a silver lining, then sure a few of those poor (hot) cowboys and cowgirls have to have it all work out at some point, too.