Not A Dream

If I didn't have the scars to prove that I had breast cancer, I'd think the last year of my life was just a bad dream.  

I know that I had cancer. I know that I had a double mastectomy. I know that I endured chemo and a year of Herceptin infusions.

But now that it's over, it feels like it was just a long, strange, bad dream.  

For more than a year cancer consumed my life. 

And now it doesn't...at all. 

From the day I found the lump to the day I got my port out, there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about it or have to plan for my next appointment/treatment/surgery...whatever. 

It was all-consuming. 

I went from "knowing" the term breast cancer to having a working knowledge of the types of cancers, grades and stages. 

The learning curve was steep but necessary. 

I didn't just need to know that I had cancer, I needed to understand the treatment and the reasoning behind the procedures. I trusted my doctors but needed to verify what they were doing as well. 

The time between diagnosis and surgery felt like an eternity. 

In actuality it was approximately six weeks. 

Time felt like it was dragging. The nagging fear that the cancer would rear up and consume my entire body while I bounced from appointment to appointment was real and terrifying. 

In the blink of an eye life turned into a nightmare. 

Think about it, I had showered, dried off and was applying moisturizer when I found a lump. I immediately called the doctor and began a whirlwind of appointments. 

After the diagnosis life became a blur of tests, scans and consultations. 

Once they confirmed that it was cancer I was ready to have them cut my boobs off the next day. Hearing that there is something growing in your body that wants to kill you is terrifying. 

Not only did I want the cancer out of my body but I have a family, a life that was going on around me and a business to run. I needed to get treatment overwith so I could move on. 

But, cancer is really inconvenient. 

My focus went from family and business to diagnosis, testing and treatment and recovery. 

For 12 consecutive weeks, I underwent chemo and 48 hours later (once the steroids wore off) I would spend a couple of days in bed. After that I would be good for a few days and then we'd repeat the process. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

There is a lot that went on around me as I endured treatment after treatment. Most of which I don't remember because the chemo disrupted my brain. But, I do know that so many people jumped in to lend a hand. 

I will be grateful to those people forever. 

Cancer treatment is hard. It's exhausting and sickeness inducing but, if caught early enough, can also be life-saving. 

Early intervention is key. 

If you are reading this thinking, "I really need to schedule that mammogram." Stop what you are doing and make the appointment. 

There is no excuse that will justify jeopardizing your life. 

Sometimes

Sometimes life is great and sometimes it sucks beyond words. 

This past year has been both. 

I've experienced the love and care of friends in ways that are indescribable. 

I've also experienced pain, suffering and loss. 

It's been a crazy rollercoaster! 

While being diagnosed with cancer was terrible, it did not come as a surprise. My family history of cancers is horrifying. 

The surgery itself wasn't bad but the drain bags were miserable. the one on the left wasn't horrible but the subcutaneous tube on the right sat on a rib and rolled back and forth when I moved. It hurt for two weeks after the drain was removed. 

Then there was the car...The Ford Escape that became the bane of our existence! Ford corp did help but they truly should have footed the bill for the whole thing. It was a collosal nightmare. 

And, don't forget that I hit a deer hours after I borrowed a friend's truck while the Ford was in the shop. 

Yeah...it was a year of memories all right. 

But, there was so much good. 

My openness about my experience led so many women to have their mammograms not the least of whom was my sister. 

Has she waited she would be dying today rather than being a cancer survivor. 

Her one and only mammogram found a lump. The biopsy confirmed her cancer and her life then switched to doctor appointments, consultations, chemo and reconstruction. 

I have mentioned my family cancer history in the past, I wasn't being dramatic. 

My family tree is one headstone after another of people who died of cancer. Fortunately, thanks to education and awareness, many of us have caught it early and are survivors rather than victims. My mom, sister and I are all cancer survivors but...we each had a different type of cancer and do not have any of the genetic markers for breast cancer. 

Soooooo.... Be very careful about what you eat and the water that you drink. 

Personally, I think it's only a matter of time until the scientists either find another DNA link or they discover the combination that causes the breast cancer. Genetic testing for BRCA 1&2 has only been around for 20 years. The strides in genetic testing since then are huge! 

Unfortunately, the biggest detector is the mammogram. 

Yes, it sucks. Yes, it hurts but death from something that could have been stopped early is so much worse. 

So, ladies...Tits up! Get in the damn machine...Just do it. 

Let's get back to the good shall we? 

What was good about last year? 

Hats! 

Normally I am not a hat wearer but, my friends started sending me these awesome hats for when I lost my hair and I started wearing them on chemo days. Then, I continued every three weeks for the Herceptin treatments. 

It took on a life of it's own. 

It became so much more than just a hat. 

I was giving people a temporary relief from their misery. 

And, let's be honest here, chemo is misery. Despite the good-natured humor and insanity that is Vanessa, there were days that I couldn't lift my head off my pillow. I would just sleep or lie in bed and cry. 

The love and compassion I received from friends and family was astounding. It helped me to push through the crap days and appreciate the good ones so much more. 

Not only was I able to make the other patients smile and laugh but the staff laughed at my antics. 

Let's talk about the staff.

From the doctors and nurses to the front office people the shear number of people in the oncologist office and infusion center is amazing. 

While there are many success stories like myself, there are so many others who are there for paliative care. Their days are numbered and they are receiving treatment as a means to delay the inevitable. 

Imagine being the person behind the glass that has to greet people or the doctor that has to tell them there is nothing more that they can do. Or the nurse who sits with them while they have their treatment. 

Their jobs are so very tough. 

Now imagine having the power to make each of those people smile because you put on a crazy hat or wore a silly costume. 

Imagine that you are the person who gives everyone the excited anticipation on "what will she do next?"

I got to be that person. 

It was an honor to be that person. 

My next appointment isn't for three months! Even though it's stopping for a good reason, it feels so strange to having something that has been such a huge part of my life for a year, just stop. 

I get to move on but I will miss the other patients and the staff that I've seen every three weeks for a year. 

Thank you to everyone at the Abramson Cancer Center  in West Chester. You not only saved my life but you did it with humility, humor, love and grace. 

I will forever be grateful for all of you. 

Just Loud

Throughout my diagnosis, surgery and current chemo treatments, people have referred to me as "brave," a label with which I am not comfortable. 

Merriam-Webster defines brave as: "having or showing mental or moral strength to face danger, fear, or difficulty : having or showing courage."

I don't see myself as brave or courageous. 

Great figures in history that I think of when I hear brave are: 

• Harriet Tubman leading slaves to freedom on the underground railroad
• Martin Luther King
• Irena Sendler — a Polish social worker who helped save some 2,500 Jewish children from the Nazis by smuggling them out of the Warsaw Ghetto 
• Combat soldiers
• Firefighters
• Police
• Anyone willing to put their life on the line for the betterment of others

I just talk about what is going on in my life and encourage others to go to the boob squish machine. 

I know, I know...it sucks, it hurts, it's uncomfortable but it's necessary. 

It's not bravery. It's a test. 

Someone recently asked how I was and I gave them the standard answer, "I'm good. Steroids get me through the weekend. The fatigue at the beginning of the week is pretty severe but my staff is amazing. They have everything covered so I can nap when I need too. The meds keep my tummy issues mostly under control."

He responded with, "You poor thing." 

I snapped back with, "Don't talk to me that way." 

And I meant it. 

I am not a "poor thing." 

What I am going through is temporary, manageable and I have a light at the end of the tunnel. 

There are many that will never see the end of treatment. 

They will lose their battle. 

In this regard, I am blessed. 

The cancer was stage one. I will beat this and move on. 

I am not brave, I am just loud. 

If God chose me and my big mouth so that I can spread the word and help to save others, then I am honored to be his messenger. 

Imagine God have enough faith in your faith in Him to make you a messenger.

What! How incredible is that? 

What I am talking about here is perspective. 

I am not a victim. 

I am a weapon, a warrior, a fighter. 

I don't wear battle armor, I have a big mouth, shaved head and pencilled on eyebrows.

Truth be told though? Being bald does make me feel pretty badass.

I'm really liking the bald head. 

It's cooler in the summer, takes no time at all to get ready when we go out and...think of the money I'm saving on hair care products. Ha! 

I am having a great time with pictures of my bald head. 

After my chemo treatment last week, Glenn needed to go to his office and I needed to make a stop at Hobby Lobby for supplies. 

I scored a pair of Yoda sunglasses!!!

Once we were in the car I pulled them out to put them on and Glenn was mortified. 

It was the only time since we met that he wasn't a super aggressive driver. He was so embarrassed that he was hanging back so people wouldn't see us, well, me.  

I don't know what his problem was, my name is on the back of the car! 

Anyway...we got stuck at a notoriously long red light. He was really irritated and grumbling about it. 

While still wearing the Yoda glasses, I put my hand on his arm and said, "Alright you will be."

He tried to not to laugh, but in the end couldn't help himself, and we had a great laugh together. 

I still have 7 more weeks of chemo ahead but I have five behind me. Each week I get closer to getting my life back. 

It's just a path I need to take and I will walk it with God lighting the way. 

With a little humor and a lot of faith, alright I will be. 

But Wait There's More!

As if breast cancer and a new HVAC system weren't enough, our car died. 

Our 2017 Ford Escape died. 

Yes, you read that correctly. 

Making matters even worse, our extended warranty was good for 6 years or 75,000 miles and we have 84,491 miles on it. So while we were below on time we were over on miles. 

I called Ford and begged, groveled and cried. 

It worked. 

We are waiting for the final details but it looks like Ford will pay for the parts and we will have to pay for the labor. 

So if anyone has a spare $3K they're willing to part with...

From what the Service Manager at the dealership told me, this is more than he's seen Ford pay for anything in quite some time. 

For that I am grateful but again, the vehicle only has 84,491 miles. It shouldn't need an engine.

We have 17 payments left and will have to drive this thing into the ground to get our money out of it. 

We just can't catch a break! 

After my diagnosis of breast cancer I made the decision to be very open about the cancer, surgery, treatment, etc. specifically because I wanted to help educate people. My hope was that sharing my experience would encourage others to have their mammograms and maybe I could help save a life. 

Never, in a million years, did I imagine the life I would be saving was my little sister! 

Yup, you read that correctly too! 

After having cancer hit so close to home (and being harranged by our mom), my sister finally made it in for a mammogram. 

The call came in about two days later that she needed to go in for a follow up. 

When she called I wasn't worried. Both my mom and and I had to go back for additional mammograms that each turned out to be nothing. 

It wasn't nothing. 

There is a tumor. 

She has since had a biopsy and all we know at this point is that she has cancer and that the tumor is Invasive Ductal Carcinoma...sound familiar? 

Yes, that's what mine was too. 

Hopefully when she sees her surgeon later this week she'll get more information about hormone receptors and we are praying that she is Her2 negative. 

She has gone for genetic testing and I have a swab kit being sent to my house to have my testing done too. 

We are currently encouraging all family members to be tested. In fact, I'd love to find a genetic researcher to catalog the whole family! 

I have also discovered that John's Hopkins still has tissue samples from my father's autopsy in 2010. We are now looking into having one of those samples tested for known genetic cancer markers. 

Although my mom was negative for the BRCA1/2 genes it could be present in my dad's side of the family. It doesn't matter whether the gene comes from the maternal or paternal side. If a woman tests positive for the BRCA gene there is a greater than 70% chance they will develop breast cancer. 

But wait there's more! 

Did you know that men can test positive too?

A man with BRCA2 is not only at risk for developing breast cancer but has an increased risk of developing prostate cancer as well. 

"Men who carry a BRCA2 gene alteration have a higher lifetime risk of developing prostate cancer. 1 in 4 - 1 in 5 (20-25%) of men who carry BRCA2 develop prostate cancer at some point. Most of these prostate cancers occur over the age of 45. Men who carry a BRCA2 alteration also have a higher chance of getting breast cancer. The chance of this is about 1 in 14 (7%)." (West Midlands Regional Genetic Department. Dorothy Halliday, Consultant in Cancer Genetics Version 1, November 2011, Review, November 2014, Oxford University Hospitals NHS Trust , Oxford OX3 9DU)

So guys...If there is a high incidence of breast cancer or prostate cancer in either side of you parent's families you need to contact a genetic counselor. If you don't know if there is a history of cancer in your family, start asking questions and create a family tree.  

According to the American Cancer Society Breast cancer is the second leading cause of cancer death in women. (Only lung cancer kills more women each year.) The chance that a woman will die from breast cancer is about 1 in 39 (about 2.6%). Unfortunately, breast cancer incidents continue to rise by .5% annually and 85% of those have no family history of breast cancer. 

It can happen to anyone! 

They are still discovering causes and treatments. If caught early enough the 5-year survival rate is greater than 90%. 

I can't emphasize early intervention enough. Do you weekly self breast exam. Pick a day of the week and do it religiously. Pick a style of exam and stick with it. That way you can detect an abnormality right away! 

If you're due for the mammogram, make the appointment. 

It may save your life!