12 & 2 YEARS HAPPY CINCO DE MAYO

 Cinco de Mayo, the anniversary of two life changing events:

1. Jay and I got engaged at Navy Pier (the location of our first date) in 2001
2. I walked out of my last radiation treatment in 2011

The end of active treatment, not the end of treatment, but the end of active treatment.  I will never forget (at least I hope my chemo brain never forgets) that when I walked out of the last radiation and got in the car, turned it on and heard the song lyrics, "after the hurricane, comes a rainbow."  I just broke down.  I knew that was a sign from God, and my grandmother who we had just lost. 

My 13 month hurricane.  A hurricane of doctor appointments, tests, waiting for test results, understanding test results, surgeries, chemo, radiation, insurance, no insurance, social workers, nurses, doctors, head shaving, wig, scarves, medications, pills, port, side effects, parking tokens and more.  And that was just me.  The hurricane also involved my whole family, friends, community, and beyond.  So, now we are all enjoying the rainbow.  .............................................................................................................................................

And it is a rainbow.  It is.  Every day gets better.  The memories fad a bit each day along with the scars.  Never gone, but as I look back, I realize that I have come a long way.  Each day starts with a prayer of thanks and each day ends with a prayer of thanks.  And I stop each day at least once or twice and think to myself, "I'm so grateful to see this or experience that" and I appreciate that.  It's a good way to live. 

This experience has also been motivating for me.  Sometimes when I have fear or doubt about something I have to do, don't want to do, or is out of my comfort zone I think about how I don't want to miss the chance to do it, and how as I laid in bed for months missing things, I vowed I wouldn't miss opportunities in the future.  Then I think what's the worst that can happen?  It can't be as bad as cancer treatment.  And I DO IT! It's a motivator for sure.  It helps me enjoy life more, slow down and make connections with people, my family, friends, and surroundings.  It helps me appreciate things so much more than I did. 

I don't want to say it's all sunshine and roses (or in this case rainbows) though.  It takes very little for the PTSD to be activated and a downward spiral to occur.  A routine Dr appointment is anxiety producing, even if I know going into it that all is still fine with me.  It brings back everything I went through (as I talked about in my previous posting).  It can also be something as simple as a hand gesture that someone does that my Dr. does to bring on an anxiety attack.  But I have ways of coping and before it would take days to get back to a good place in my head, and that time is growing shorter.  And that's good. 

I also try to find a project every year to mark my anniversary and bring some love and hope to others.  The first year I planned a fundraiser for the family of someone who had sadly lost his battle with cancer and had two little kids.  Last year I did a scarf drive and reached out to my CAbi sisters, who donated over 100 scarves which I then packaged with a scarf tying guide and brought to the Coleman Imaging Center in the cancer hospital at Loyola.  This year, the event that I am participating in is Making Strides for the American Cancer Society and takes place Saturday, May 11th at Oak Park River Forest High School.  The kids and I are doing a painting art project this week that will be the backdrop for the photo booth, and I am volunteering at the walk and speaking as park of the Survivor Talks.  I am pretty excited to hopefully bring hope and love to those who are battling, have battled, or lost a love one to this terrible disease. 

So, I'd like to mark the ending of this entry with two things:
1. A request for all of you to take time to find the good in any situation, good, bad, every day and marvel at what is good on this earth.
2. To pray (or think good thoughts) for those going through, affected, and/or touched by cancer, or who will be touched by cancer.  And a hope that there are far more birthdays and fewer new diagnoses each year. 

My 7 year old came home with the prayer recently, and I wanted to share it with you. 

2001

2011.....

Anxiety

Three years ago this week my life was turning upside down. It was like I was a preteen at Great America. Waiting in line for a ride I knew was going to turn me upside down and put terror in my heart, but not being able to get out of line because it was supposed to be fun. I found a lump. Had to be nothing right? I'm 33, have an infant, was healthy and this doesn't happen to people my age. Yet I knew something was terribly wrong. So I stayed in line, got on that ride, and was flipped upside down. Never to be the same. 
The ironic thing is, a few weeks ago I was looking forward to this week. I was going to create this great post on how my life was returned to a new normal. How somehow, despite scars and scares, extra weight and the 10+ pills I take twice I day, I forgot a lot of the time that I even had cancer. Really. I was feeling that way. Then I got into a car accident. Terrified I hurt my reconstruction as I hit the steering wheel and was injured by the seatbelt. Back in the ER, getting chest X-rays, being asked if there was a chance I was pregnant, explaining why I didn't need a pregnancy test, hyperventilating and in full PTSD mode. On oxygen, on a gurney in the middle of an er hallway ehile rape victims are being interviewed and Police Officers and DCFS Officials are dealing with a father being arrested for child abuse thinking how can i be back here again?  finally a dr asked me what I wanted for the pain. I said I wanted an Ativan. She, thankfully complied, and I finally calmed down. Yes, I needed the comfort of that magic pill that I used to take before each chemo treatment (27 of them) to help me stop spiraling down in despair.  Still, as I sit here the night before my check up with my oncologist I cannot help but have anxiety. Every time the Caller ID pops up with Loyola's number my heart drops into my stomach and my stomach drops into my shoes. I will never have my life back, but I have to create a new normal. 
I wake up each morning and the first thing I do is thank God for being here one more day. Each night at bedtime I thank God for giving me that day and look forward to being alive for at least one more day. Before I sat down to write this I was doing laundry, washing the cleaning rags, thinking how I was so worried and worked up abou this. And how I just wanted to know it was all going to be ok. And wouldn't you know it, I found a penny at the bottom of the washing machine. My grandma Krupa was sending me a sign from heaven that all was going to b ok. I know it. But still, it is hard. I'd say about 90% of the time I forget about the whole cancer experience, but am always thrown off by the triggers that toss me back into that world. A hand gesture, a smell, a chance encounter with someone. An innocent question from a stranger. 
This week has seen some terrible things in this world, roadside bomb in Afghanistan killing a 25 year old who lived in my area.  Two bombs at the Boston Marathon. I think why, this world has so much pain without people purposely causing it. I cry more easily. I think about those people just going about their day, who are now missing limbs. Their family members and the affect it has on the whole family. Forever. No one is ever the same. It makes me sad. It makes me mad. No parent should bury a child. No parent should watch their child suffer. No child should grow up parent less. 
Some days I feel like I am just climbing climbing climbing a set of stairs that is never going to end. On a treadmill that won't stop, but will take me no where. Other days I feel on top of the world. Almost thankful for this experience of cancer as it has given me a new appreciation for life. A new awakening and attention to detail I never had before. I am hoping with time, and with each passing year the anxiety diminishes and the good thoughts prevail. 
Still, I welcome your prayers and I will work to find the silver lining of each bad day. More good days than bad, more smiles than years and more laughter than complaints. This is what I will continue to strive and live for.