Positive Thinking, I think

This has not been my year of good health. So, while I complain for a moment, bear in mind that you cannot say to me "at least you have your health." You can't say this because, well, this is a blog, but also if you were actually in earshot of me I would just give you "the look" that says "think about what you're saying and who you are saying it too." The look might also add "you twit" but that would depend on my feelings about you in general.

Allow me to whine (or, just, you know, close out the blog and don't read my whining). If you've been a careful reader you may have noted that I had breast cancer this year. (Really!) And then last month I had my first ever bladder infection (yes, I know, you're welcome; I share--it's what I do). And now, I've had that nasty cough, cold, sore throat bug thing that is not the swine flu (even though everyone wants to freak out that it is) for most of this week. And, sorry, but it kinda pissed me off. I think I've had my share of sick days this year, thank you very much. Now I feel like I'm going to become one of those people who catch everything that goes around-- pre BC I didn't really get sick very often at all. Pre-BC and stretching back to my early childhood I generally got sick once a year--usually around Halloween, which was just my elaborate ruse for getting out of trick or treating (I hate costumes and I dislike most candy--particularly chocolate; yes, you read that correctly). I don't have the time or patience to be a "sicky."

Sure, sure, my body has been through a lot this year and it's probably still in repair mode. Whatever. Health again, please. And the somewhat ironic thing is, I think I whined more about this cough sickness than I did during chemo. Chris can probably attest to that fact (see likely comment below). Like I said, I was pissed, I was not willing to admit I was sick (I did work at home on Wednesday but then on Thursday everyone in my office told me to go home. I think the mailman mentioned it too), and then when it was totally obvious I was indeed sick, I was a giant baby. But that got me thinking. I was wondering why I was a bigger wimp about my cough/cold than I was about chemo. And I had a little revelation.

I think I may have figured out that whole "keep a positive attitude" thing! When one gets diagnosed with breast cancer (or any other serious illness, I imagine) everyone says "just keep your positive attitude" or "stay positive" or some version of that. And I think most of the newly diagnosed think "what?" Okay, and me, I also think "we'll sure you're saying that--you don't want me breaking down and getting all crazy and sobbing on your watch because then you'd have to deal with that, so sure you want me to stay positive!!" And of course there is the "I can be all happy and giddy and downright perky and, um, I'm still going to have cancer" so what good does this staying positive thing do?  But here's the thing---as I went through all the slash, poison and burn stages of breast cancer treatment, for the most part it wasn't as bad as I was expecting so I pretty much thought, 'Huh, okay. I can do this." And I did.  I just marched on without spending too much time thinking about how awful it all was (okay, except to laugh at it in the blog; well, mostly laugh). I don't think I whined too much (see inevitable comments below from those in the know. ;-)  )  But now, this cough/ cold thing was totally unexpected and I wasn't prepared for it--so it was worse than I was expecting and I let that get to me. I didn't "stay positive." (um...I may have been feeling sorry for myself; I had a really shitty week last week and then got sick this week). Now that I get that whole "mind over matter" thing--I expect to be up and about and doing just fine tomorrow. Sure, I'm hacking up a lung, but it's all temporary. This too shall pass. All that happy, perky stuff.

Chris has escaped down to San Diego today and tomorrow for the Food & Wine Festival--I was too sick to go and he needed the break. That gives me 24 hours to perfect this "positive thinking" thing. Hey, I've done it before. Sort of.

Sunday Sushi

You are in luck. This should be a short post. It's Sunday and I've had the perfect combination of productive and relaxing today. And now Brien and Roryann Clements are coming over with homemade sushi (theirs, not ours...and they're, you know, real chefs). I haven't actually had sushi since the ban went into effect (when chemo started), so I"m kind of excited about this. Thus, in keeping with the productive but relaxing theme I have going, I'm posting to the blog but keeping it somewhat short. After all, the photos sort of speak for themselves.

Breast Cancer As Seen Through the Hair:

January 24, 2009 (the night before surgery):
March 13, 2009 (Head shaved two weeks after first chemo):


Sometime in mid-May after last chemo, before hair started growing back: And finally, July 11, 2009: Making it's way back!!

A few things to note here--if you ask me, I look happier in the last photo then I do in the first three. And I am. That's because I'm all done with this cancer thing (you hear me you little bitch cancer? Done!). Also, the hair is definitely darker. Although, now that it's getting a little daylight exposure I can see that it might very well lighten up. Who cares? It's hair!!

Obviously you will also note the shirt! That is one of the shirts we had designed and made up for the Survivor party and are selling to benefit the new Breast Cancer Resource Center at the Inland Agency here in Riverside, California --and believe me, we need a resource center!! The shirts say "Out-Chemo, Out-Radiate, Out-Live." With the ubiquitous pink ribbon and "Survivor" emblazoned in the middle. There is also a turtle in the ribbon loop (turtle is a symbol for long life--and I happen to like turtles) and the palm trees along the bottom which will make you laugh, as it does me, if you remember this January posting: How Medicine Made me a Hot Babe. (You too can have a shirt--$15 each and available in men's or women's sizes (M to XXL), V-neck and crew neck, white or gray for the men, and white, hot pink or baby pink for the ladies; email me if you want one and you'll have to throw in a few bucks for shipping if I have to mail it to you. Hey, I have medical bills to pay for I can't be supporting the US Post Office too!).

Finally, I've mentioned before that there are cliques and "teams" in this breast cancer brawl and I seem to not ever get it right for the "pink" team, what with my whole refusal to cry, making jokes and continuing to go about my normal life (hence, my cancer Dork status). But occasionally I run into my people and it makes me happy when I do. So check out the blog of another woman who can laugh (and make you laugh) in the face of breast cancer. And given what her face has been through lately...that's saying a lot! (An example--she refers to surgery, chemo and radiation as "Slash, poison and burn" and yep, that about covers what we've been through!) We've been chatting and she also posted on her hair growth today. Meet my new blog friend Stephanie at Bah! to Cancer. (She's British...they talk like that.)

Butterflies and Blogs

Twice today the image of butterflies came up. So it seems the butterfly is the image of the day.

First, this morning I returned to radiation after my 3-day hiatus from "The Machine." This is kind of a big week for me--it's my last full week of treatment and after Tuesday I will be down to just the five "boob boosts" which are the quick, targeted radiation to just the incision spot. And do you know how those darling radiation therapists wanted to celebrate with me? Yeah, they wanted to draw on my boob. Like I'm some sort of third grad art project! That's just weird, dontcha think? It's not weird to them. They claim it's required. And get this--I can't wash it off!! So, with the doctor's consent and involvement, they've now marked me with indelible ink circling the target area (Sharpie does not do this justice--and believe me, if it wouldn't get my blog shut down and fined by the morality police, I would be showing you a photo of this). Then, I'm pretty sure just to mock me, they put five little stickers on me--and two of them are butterflies. Oh, and I can't wash these off until radiation is over--8 days from now. Okay, I'm sure these butterflies serve a medical purpose but right now, they are two little creatures clinging to my abused breast and smiling up at me through a permanent felt-tip marker circle. You can't imagine how weird this looks. Hundreds of years from now scientist are going to be describing the weird pagan rituals our culture put breast cancer patients through and 12 year-old medical students who jet-packed to the hospitals will be laughing at this. Probably while looking at a photo of my breast that someone found on a fossil known as a blog on a laptop (which will seem gigantic and slow to them). Who knew that cancer treatment involved felt tip markers and butterfly stickers??? Raise your hand if you knew this!! (Okay, put it down--you're alone at your computer and you're a radiation therapist, Jana!!)

Because I was getting additional body art this morning, I was running late. I actually didn't get out of the radiation place until almost 10 and I had a 10a.m. meeting across town. I raced to it but still arrived late. I run enough meetings myself to know how annoying it is to have to start over or break stride for the tardy participant, so believe me, I was all ready with The Cancer excuse. None needed. They didn't even skip a beat. But the meeting was the beginning of the strategic planning sessions for the Riverside Humane Society Pet Adoption Center. And here's where butterflies came up again. No, not as pets, silly. There was an analogy drawn that our pet adoption center was just ready to come out of its cocoon and blossom into a butterfly (and it is! We have a gorgeous new facility where all the animals stay until a forever home is found for them, and no healthy animal is ever euthanized--which is the way it should be!! But I digress...). The analogy stuck for awhile. And there it was--butterflies right in front of me (okay, and um, lower...maybe lower than they should be) twice in just over an hour. Anybody know what a butterfly symbolizes? (And just a thought here, but if it's eternal damnation, death, or you know, disease, please don't share that information. Think about it, 'kay?)

Later in the day I found myself doing that thing that I'm not supposed to do---checking out other cancer blogs. I'm not even sure how I found myself down that particular rabbit hole, but it had something to do with when a cancer blog appropriately ends. And, um, duh...sometimes they end because the person has died. Why was I not thinking about that???? I wasn't. Because I don't go there. I don't think like that and I haven't been told I need to think like that, but nonetheless every once in awhile I get slapped upside the head with that reality. People die from cancer. I have cancer. Wow. So much for my cancer lite theory! And I realized that perhaps I'm being presumptuous (but let's just call it positive thinking) that my odyssey is coming to an end. Certainly there is the possibility of recurrence, and there are definitely follow up appointments and mammograms and ultrasounds and scans and all that sort of stuff that happens when one has been unceremoniously and rudely attacked by that bitch Cancer. Still, I think getting this far and the fact that there are no signs of the cancer at this point is worth celebrating.

Besides, my radiation therapists and I briefly discussed the power of positive thinking in these situations (they deal with lots of cancer patients of course). I didn't really get when people said that to me in the beginning of all this--how much attitude matters. I just figured there were two choices and I didn't like the other one, so a "good" attitude would have to do (and isn't it funny how a "bad" attitude--of the F**k Cancer variety--can be a good attitude? Discuss amongst yourselves.) I see now though that it's really true. I don't know what lies ahead of me any more or any less than you do, really. Sure, I've got this 15% recurrence statistic hanging over me, but I've also got an 85% chance it doesn't come back. And I do know what I can handle now (more than I thought), and I do know that I didn't allow cancer to rob me of these last seven months of enjoying life with my friends and family or any of the things that are important to me (and yeah, my career is important to me, that's why I kept working...oh, and I like to eat). And it could have done that if I had let it, if I had focused on all that could have gone wrong or all that still might. So I understand what they mean by having the right attitude. It doesn't change my chances, and it doesn't change the future, but I think it made the last seven months easier for me and the people around me.

Wow. That was almost melancholy. Or perky. And I hate both those things!! Note to self: stay away from cancer blogs!! (Oh, wait...that doesn't apply to you, dearest reader).

Tomorrow is my final "full" radiation. Chris is going to go in with me. He's been to every stage of this cancer odyssey with me every step of the way, but I've been going to radiation each morning by myself (it's on my way to work), so it's definitely time for him to come in and meet all these people I keep telling him about and experience the radiation part of this. So in all likelihood, there will be photos soon. Maybe even photos of The Machine! Definitely we'll get some blue gown photos. But I'm not sure if I'll be blogging tomorrow evening--we have the final party planning committee (where we practice partying to make sure it will go well on July 19th1), and my friend GARY BERG is in town, so that's always a party. Hmm...there could be lots of photos for the next blog.