Anticipation

On this last day of the month, I look forward to December for the many gifts and joyous celebrations I believe it will bring. I am thinking not just of Christmas, although that is at the top of the list, but also of continued progress in this cancer fight.

My oncologist has said he will soon order new scans to confirm our visual observations that the tumor is shrinking. I am anxious to have that medical confirmation, although there are always unbidden fears of the unknown. Whenever doubts surface, my strategy to banish them is to say a quick prayer for strength and remind myself of all the love and positive energy that surround me.

Occasions to celebrate this last month of the year also include Ben's graduation, Tom's birthday, other family birthdays and several gatherings of friends for holiday cheer. None of us can deny the widespread economic troubles that color these days, but I am grateful for how the recession has curbed our tendencies toward frantic excess. As we all realize what truly matters most, I look forward to the upcoming celebrations with family and friends more expectantly than I have in years.

Blessings, postscript

I thought about counting my faith as a blessing, but it is more than that. My strong belief that God has a more perfect plan for my life than I can possibly imagine is the essence woven through me, rainbow-coloring all my perceptions.

My faith was strengthened through my first bout with cancer and I know it has already grown in this current fight. I feel surrounded by love, and I am comforted immensely when I hear that friends and family have enlisted others to pray for me.

I have written this before but it is worth repeating: My prayer is to be so filled with God's love that it overflows, and I am a vessel to carry His love to others. What can be more fulfilling and beautiful than that?

Ultimate blessings

I saved the best for last in my recounting of blessings leading up to this Thanksgiving Day. The best blessing of all is my family! I wish my husband, children, mother, siblings and extended family did not have to go through this cancer fight with me, but they have not wavered in their support at every step.

Tom has had to witness the worst of it. He watched the tumor grow impossibly fast, helped me in and out of bed when the pain spiked before chemo began, cut my hair when it started falling out and accompanies me to chemo, even though I am capable of getting there and back by myself. He sits next to me while the drugs drip in, providing comfort that don't need words to convey.

Mandy has been another rock. I leaned on her before I was ready to tell anyone else but Tom that I had found a lump. When it was time to reach out to others, Mandy shared my situation with our newspaper colleagues, bringing in another wave of support. Without her help and encouragement, I would not have this blog to express my feelings and keep my cheerleaders apprised of my progress.

Ben is the quiet supporter. His inquiries as to how I am feeling are frequent these days, along with offers to stop at the grocery for anything I need and to help with laundry on weekends.

Mom and my siblings keep cheering me on from the sidelines. When my early discomfort and the first round of chemo stole my appetite, Mom delivered her chicken noodle soup and mashed potatoes the same day I said that sounded good to me. From visions of pick-axing angels to praise for my blogging and offers of all kinds of help, my siblings and other family members remind me their positive thoughts and prayers are continuing.

My family has always been a source of great strength and comfort. Today I give thanks for my family more than ever!

Blessings, Part III

It is true what they say about counting your blessings instead of sheep. I woke up in the middle of the night, started thinking about what I would be writing here this morning, and ended up sleeping longer than I intended. What a blessing to have more good sleep! My list for the week continues:

1. Good friends. There is nothing like getting a serious illness to bring out the best in your friends, and to increase their ranks. I am amazed at the offers from friends to run errands for me, be my taxi, help me to find the best medical care, or just letting me know they are praying for me and sending out positive thoughts.
2. Good work. I can't imagine not being able to spend part of my day engaged in meaningful effort -- feeling like I am helping to produce something or improve something. I find great joy in the creative aspects of my work. I am especially grateful to have something other than my illness on which to focus my attention.
3. Good books. My son persuaded me earlier this year to begin reading the Harry Potter books. I had resisted them for so long, but I am very glad Ben finally prevailed. They are so entertaining! Book 5 is currently on my nightstand. I have already gushed enough in this blog about Coach Tressel's "The Winners Manual for the Game of Life." Now I am reading another good book that came from my pastor, "The Art of Possibility."

More blessings tomorrow!

Blessings, Part II

Continuing from yesterday's list, here are more things I am thankful for today.

1. Saving time. It's amazing how quickly I can get ready to leave the house when I don't have to spend time shampooing and conditioning my hair, blow-drying and curling it and then brushing it into place. Just plop on my wig and wiggle it around a little to make sure it's not lopsided, and I'm done!
2. Saving money. Sticking with the hair theme, the money I'm talking about saving here is what I am not spending on hair coloring and cuts. That can get pricey every couple of months!
3. Saving sleep. Although I still miss my morning workouts, I have to admit that I am getting at least an extra hour's sleep by not setting my alarm to head to the gym before work. I will enjoy the extra sleep while I can, and then count it as another blessing when I am ready to return to that routine.

Blessings, Part I

Might as well go with a theme of Thanksgiving this week. I have so many blessings to count, I am sure I can come up with a few every day between now and Thursday.

1. Chemo sleep. I don't remember reading about it as an expected side effect but my experience is I get my best night's sleep in these days after a treatment. Not just a good eight hours but nine or more if I go to bed early enough. And I love a good night's sleep!
2. Time of year. I think I would be really ticked to be dealing with cancer and chemo in the middle of the summer, when I would want to be more active. Late fall and winter is perfect for hunkering down. Bulkier clothes hide the lump of my tumor as well as the protruding port on my right shoulder blade. Shorter days make for better sleeping, too!
3. Head warmers. This is also the best time of year to lose my hair. My wig adds warmth when I need it most. And how silly would it look to wear knit hats to the grocery store in the middle of summer? I have always been a closet hat person -- love to try them on in the store but too self-conscious to wear them in public. Now I even feel a little sassy to wear a knit hat for running errands on weekends, or even around the house on cold days.

Thankful

I hate to jump the gun, but I can't wait until Thanksgiving to express how blessed I am feeling this morning.

The sun is shining, the Buckeyes were victorious over Michigan, and the tumor in my abdomen is getting smaller. My high spirits might also have something to do with a good night's sleep. I think chemotherapy has a way of helping the body rest when that's what it needs most.

The success I am feeling with my treatment so far is starting to expand my horizon. Instead of focusing on getting to the point of being able to undergo surgery, my outlook is getting longer. What new goals can I set for myself after I recover from the surgery? It is exhilerating to contemplate my life beyond Cancer 2.0.

On this morning after the Buckeyes' win, let me share some inspiration from the final chapter in Coach Tressel's "The Winners Manual for the Game of Life." The coach writes, "Purpose is a gift from God....Lasting goals are also from God, and they affect the people around us for good." I don't know yet what goals I will set for myself after I get through this fight, but I pray that they will bring good to others.

What's your vision?

We've got this tumor on the run, folks!

I see it in the mirror. A check of my profile shows my abdomen is not as distended as it was, and clothes around my waist are not as uncomfortable. Before my chemo treatment yesterday, the doctor said he could tell as well that it was smaller. We don't have the "tumor marker" blood tests yet to verify it, but I expect to see that number also going down when I get results in another week or so. More scans will be ordered after this current cycle of chemo is complete -- sometime around the first week of December.

They say it helps to visualize the progress you are seeking. My sister shared the vision that struck her yesterday as she prayed to help me see the tumor shrinking. She saw hundreds of tiny angels slipping through my bellybutton and hacking away at the tumor with pickaxes! I told her my vision is the cancer cells are little bugs that the chemo is flipping over onto their backs so they helplessly shrivel up and die. Then my body sheds the dead cancer bugs and the tumor shrinks.

I can't imagine better visions than pick-axing angels or dying bugs to see my prayers answered for this tumor to wither down to the size of a peanut that can be easily removed, but I'm open to hearing even more powerful ones. The more positive visions, the better!

My safety net

I have been searching for an image to describe the incredible feeling of support I have from the many family, friends, coworkers and others who have reached out to me the past two months. Their simple messages of caring, love and prayers are very powerful.

It is especially amazing how steady their comfort has been. People didn't just send get-well wishes in just the first weeks after my diagnosis and then stop. It has been more of a constant stream -- a card or maybe two, or an e-mail or blog comment almost daily. Some come from people I see all the time; some from people I haven't been in contact with for years.

The effect is that I am continually buoyed with reminders to stay strong and win this fight. The vision I get is of hands constantly all around me, ready to hold me up if I start to fall and prodding me forward.

We were watching a college football game on television recently and the camera zeroed in on a group of students celebrating a great play by hoisting a friend horizontally above their heads and passing him down the row. Yeah, it's like that!

Ready for round 3

My third round of chemotherapy starts tomorrow, and it's weird to admit I look forward to it. There is comfort in knowing I am doing something to tackle this growth in my abdomen. It is surprising, too, that the second full round seemed easier to tolerate than the first. My appeitite was not off nearly as much this last time.

One round is a three-week cycle consisting of one chemo drug the first day, two chemo drugs a week later and then a week with no chemo. When the chemo began, my swollen belly made most clothes uncomfortable and I had to learn a new way of getting in and out of bed so as not to aggravate the pain. I haven't had that kind of pain for weeks now!

If I can see this kind of improvement after two rounds of chemo, what kind of great results will the third and fourth rounds bring? The only thing missing is some independent medical validation that the chemo is working, and that may be in the works soon. C'mon, chemo, do your thing!

Precious strands

I am feeling a surprising kinship to balding men with bad comb-overs.

My recollection from 12 years ago is that my hair went from lush to bald in a very short period of time. Once it started coming out, there was no stopping it. This time, after several weeks of serious shedding, there are still some stalwart strands left.

The thin covering is not enough to take out in public, but it lets me keep my wig on its pedestal around the house. I can wear knit hats to keep my head warm and still see some fringe around the edges. The few strands are enough that I answered the door for a pizza delivery man the other night without a hat and didn't scare him away! I even let a few strands peek out under my wig along the sides of my face just to reinforce my confidence that yes, the wig is the same color as my real hair.

My next round of chemo may finish off the remaining wisps but I am enjoying them while I can. Like all those balding men must feel, these hairs may be few but they are mine!

Pulling together

The announcements for my son's OSU graduation arrived yesterday, bringing smiles for me and his dad. When we first began making plans for the big day, Ben initially confessed he was not crazy about participating in the ceremony. Tom and I quickly told him it was as much for us as him, maybe even more.

We earned the right to see him receive his diploma, we insisted. He may have been the one going to class and taking the tests but we were right there -- encouraging him, praying for his success, sharing his disappointment at setbacks and cheering his accomplishments. Our checkbook was also called into service, of course!

Maybe I should do announcements, too, when I graduate from this cancer fight; not just for me but for my army of supporters. If we're lucky, we don't do anything by ourselves. Each mountain we climb, each commencement marking the end of one journey and the beginning of new adventures should be celebrated with those who carried us toward the goal with their prayers and support. I am blessed to have many, many supporters cheering me on in this fight!

Many gifts

It is not unusual for me to find great inspiration in the sermons delivered by my pastor. She has the ability to reach each of us on a very personal level, even when our circumstances vary widely. Yesterday's sermon was a good example. The central theme was to prod: What have you been given, and what are you doing with it?

In a nice coincidence, my receptivity for the sermon was set up by a front page story in yesterday's newspaper about an OSU football assistant coach who continues to work through his own cancer battle -- defying doctors' prognoses and inspiring players, other coaches and fans in the process.

We tend to think of gifts as something good, but not everything we are given comes wrapped in pretty packaging and prompts a smile when it is revealed. Some gifts are downright stinkers! The point is not the gift at all, but what we do with it. We can take the greatest gifts and squander them, or we can take something others shun and turn it to gold. My quest is to be able to look back on this cancer battle years from now and see much good that came from it.

Unexpected bonus

Looking back, it is interesting to me that my latest cancer battle began about the time our nation and the world were experiencing major financial shocks. I remember thinking dully as I scanned the September headlines that I should be paying more attention, but I had another crisis of my own to consider.

More recent headlines tell of consumers responding by holding tighter to their money. Friends and family talk about changes they are making to spend smarter. Christmas in our family will see more of a focus on quality time together and less on buying each other things we don't really need.

I don't advocate my unanticipated method for saving money, but it has been amazingly effective. Just a month after my diagnosis, I started seeing a healthier balance in my checking account!

The difference was especially apparent during my first chemo high. I had driven to the doctor's for a required shot that Saturday and then made a few stops on the way home. Arriving home with packages, I told Tom, "The good news is, I feel better than I have in weeks. The bad news is, when I feel good, I shop."

Love heals

My workplace frequently offers personal development opportunities, and one I took advantage of a while back is called HeartMath. A key concept of HeartMath involves reducing stress by focusing on positive, appreciative thoughts.

Daily e-mails from HeartMath include quotes to help keep those good thoughts flowing. Yesterday's quote was especially inspirational for me. "The greatest science in the world; in heaven and on earth; is love."
- Mother Teresa

I believe there is a lot of truth to that conviction. I am extremely thankful for the medical care I am receiving, but the regular messages of love and support I get from friends, family and co-workers are equally as powerful. My constant prayer is not only to receive that healing love but to also send it back out again in abundance. Whatever else we do, we are all called to act toward each other in love.

Sticker shock

One big change since my first cancer battle is the way my treatment is handled by my health insurer. There are things I don't care to recall from those days, but I am sure I did not receive the blow-by-blow detail of every charge for every medical service that my insurer now provides.

During my previous treatment, one of the messages I delivered in my day job was how consumers needed to have more information about health care costs in order to make intelligent decisions and help bring out needed health care reform. We certainly have more information now, but we not much closer to reforming how we pay for health care.

The medical claim summaries I receive routinely now from my insurer spell it all out -- the hefty price for procedures and services, the "discounted" portion the insurer lops off the top (usually half or more of the original charge), the remaining portion the insurer agrees to pay and the pittance left as my responsibility. My job involves helping to explain health care, so I should not be surprised by any of these figures. It is still shocking, though, when you see it in such a personal context.

When my cancer fight is behind me, I am committed to not forgetting how it feels to see this side of health care so that I can work more effectively for reform.

Withdrawing isn't failing

I learned yesterday that my son, in his final quarter at OSU, made the decision to withdraw from one of his three classes in order to focus more on the other two. The two he kept are graduation requirements. The one he dropped was a one-hour course he took for fun. He liked the class, he told me, but it was sapping energy he needed to apply to the requirements.

My initial, natural response was disappointment, but I knew the more I thought about it he had made the right decision. Withdrawing when he did carries no negative impact on his grade point average. Sure, he might have worked harder to finish the class, but would it have cost him some degree of success on the other two classes and maybe even threathened graduation in December?

I, too, am withdrawing from some things right now in order to focus strength elsewhere. My required courses for graduation as a two-time cancer survivor include:

1. giving chemotherapy the best chance to do its job,
2. keeping myself healthy and strong for recovery from eventual surgery to remove the tumor and
3. doing enough work and personal activities to maintain a healthy sense that I am still functioning normally.

I still don't like having to drop some things along the way, but I know withdrawing is better than failing.

Masquerade

Dressing up in costume has never held a big attraction for me, so I was more than a little self-conscious stepping out yesterday in my wig. Having worked from home on Monday, it was my first time in the wig since my hair came back 12 years ago. The nice comments I received made it bearable.

Tom's smiling assessment gave me an encouraging start. He is most familiar with my ever-thinning strands. He pronounced the wig a nice improvement. More smiles and compliments at work boosted my confidence. If there were those who shared my occasional thoughts that the wig was too fake, they nicely kept it to themselves.

I remember a program for cancer patients called "Look good, feel better" in which cosmeticians and others show women who have lost their hair -- and a measure of their self-confidence along with it -- how to put on a happier, prettier face. There is good medicine in being able to look in the mirror and not see sickness look back. The wig and I will be good buddies for the next few months.

Tough lesson

I have to confess that I am not all sunshine all the time about this cancer. The part that irks me most is the lesson I did not want to learn about being careful what you treasure.

Most of my life, I fretted about carrying extra weight around, mostly in my belly. So the past two years, I was especially proud that a healthy diet and workout routine had finally flattened my tummy. So guess where this cancer sprouts and initially grows like a weed?

Then there's my hair. It had just gotten to a length I really liked 12 years ago before chemo with Cancer 1.0 took it away. For years afterward, I kept it short, afraid of losing it again. Then I finally gave myself permission to believe I wouldn't lose it again. It wasn't necessarily the best style for me but I loved just growing it! So now I'm almost bald again.

And I was getting a little too wrapped up in my morning workouts. I loved feeling so strong and energetic and active. So now some days a short walk about does me in.

I don't really think this is God's idea of a joke, but it does put a different spin on things. When I get through this battle, I will value a flat tummy, a decent crop of hair and the energy to exercise for what they are, and nothing else -- signs of good health!

Booster shot

I've decided there is a bonus to undergoing chemo again that was not immediately apparent. No doctor has confirmed my assumption, but I don't know why it wouldn't be true. The thought I am holding onto is that this new chemotherapy regimen is added insurance against a recurrence of my breast cancer!

As much as no one wants to go through chemotherapy, there is a comfort in knowing that you are actively fighting cancer, that you are chasing it out of your body. And as perverse as it seems, I remember a sense of reluctance for the treatments to end. Was it enough? Did it leave any maverick cells lurking behind?

My current cancer is not related to my previous cancer. The distance of 12 years since my first cancer fight is reasurring, but you never lose the thought that it could come back, and be worse than it was originally. If breast cancer had half a thought of rearing up again in my body, I am pretty sure it is finding an inhospitable environment these days.

Not so bad

A nice thing about chemo is that it provides some predictability. Once you've been through it a couple times, you know what to expect. It is far worse to be anticipating your first experience with chemo. I actually made myself sick 12 years ago on the eve of my first treatment.

Today is the low point of the aftermath of the double-dose I received on Friday, but it's not terrible. Mostly, I have no energy. Writing this entry is about the most energetic thing I'll do all day. But it's a good, quiet day to be lazy.

I actually feel better than I did after my first double-dose three weeks ago. Then, I was still taking pain pills around the clock, which I think contributed to my malaise. It is much easier to deal with the chemo when you see it doing what it is supposed to be doing. I know it is shrinking my tumor, so I can put up with these down days. Pardon me, now, if I head back to bed.

You gotta have hope!

I've been taking Jim Tressel's "The Winners Manual for the Game of Life" with me to my chemo treatments. I'm almost done with it and may start it over from the beginning at my next session. I seldom read a book over but the guidance it provides is that inspiring.

I had already decided to write about Tressel's chapter on hope before reading in this morning's paper about the breast cancer death yesterday of local television anchor Heather Pick at age 38. From all I know of her incredible spirit, she would concur it is appropriate to keep hope high in any challenge we face.

This chapter gave my yellow highlighter a workout so I can't repeat all the good stuff here, but here is a good excerpt:

"When we possess the hope and belief that ultimately we're going to be successful in our journeys , there's not much of what comes our way on a daily basis that we can't handle. When we see negative events as stepping stones and have hope that our problems can actually propel us toward our goals rather than than hinder us, then we are, of all people, truly blessed. If I could pass along one virtue to all of our players -- and to every reader of this version of the Winners Manual -- it would be the virtue of hope."

Every day we have a choice about how to approach all we encounter. I choose hope.

Wigged out

You have to find ways to humor yourself when your hair is determined to leave your head. My last experience with chemo was at this same time of year. It prompted me to compose a ditty to the tune of "I'll be home for Christmas." I've been singing it to myself again lately. It goes like this:

I'll be bald for Christmas. You can count on that.
I'll have no hair. My head will be bare, unless I wear a hat.
I'll be bald for Christmas, but I'll still dance a jig.
I'll be bald for Christmas, but I still have my wig!

The hair loss made steady progression all week and should be complete this weekend, especially after today's double dose of chemo drugs. I haven't worn my wig yet but the remaining front strands were so thin by last night that I wore a new knit cap to dinner to celebrate our son-in-law's 30th birthday (although for the record, he still wants to be thought of as 25!). It wasn't bad, and the cap really helped to complete my outfit!

Here's another nice thing about the timing for my baldness: as the weather turns colder and the rest of you are shivering outside, my wig will keep my head nice and warm!

OK, sing with me now! "I'll be bald.......

Watching my back

I received another reminder yesterday that my workplace operates like a close-knit family. This is part of what gets me out the door in the morning and keeps me at my desk a good part of the day, allowing welcome time to focus on matters other than my battle with Cancer 2.0.

One of my current responsibilities involves some time out of the office to visit with hospital executives, learn about their latest concerns and provide updates on what we're doing to help. It isn't hard work, but it takes a little more energy than I have been able to muster lately. Looking ahead, I knew I would have trouble meeting that responsibility for the next few months, and it was on my to-do list to ask for help. I hate admiting I can't do something, though, so I had not followed through on handing off that task.

My work family beat me to it! I learned yesterday that others had already realized my field visits were at risk and had stepped in to take them off my plate.

One of the values we aspire to in my workplace is a commitment to the success of others. Another value embraces service to members. Yesterday's revelation told me our values are very much alive at the Ohio Hospital Association, and my coworkers are committed to my success in this fight.

Let me entertain you!

A nice thing about doing this blog is the outlet it gives me for one of my passions -- writing.

Even better is the feedback I have received, in posted comments and otherwise, that my supporters are enjoying reading my writing again. It has been more than 16 years since I left my newspaper job and had a public outlet for writing. The writing I have done in the meantime has been more behind-the-scenes and focused on work issues or church matters.

No one ever wants the reason of a serious health issue to prompt attention to themselves or what they have to say. We all have the opportunity, though, to take whatever challenge we face and find a way to bring something positive out of it.

I am very thankful for all the encouragement I have been receiving to stay focused on healing and possibility and to have the outlet of this blog to express it. My obligation is to try to give my supporters a good read so you'll want to keep coming back!

Hair today, gone tomorrow

You don't appreciate how much hair you have until it starts falling out. I remember that from the last time but it still surprised me yesterday when I was washing it and pulling out great clumps. I was sure there would be bald spots -- maybe lots of them -- by the time I finally got it rinsed and dried. I thought I might have to pull out my wig for church.

With wig management in mind, I called for Tom to bring the scissors and help me cut off a lot of the length. He asked me to start the cut so he would know how short to go. Then he followed it on around to the back, up the other side and across the front.

The surprise was that the new short do was thick and full!

I didn't want to pull more out by blow-drying it, so I just finger-combed it and let the natural curl have its way. I called my sister -- who has the proper hair-cutting tools and skill -- to clean up a corner of the back that Tom and I couldn't get quite right. The compliments for the new style began with Tom, my mom and sister and continued from people at church!

I hope to get another few days out of this sassy, short haircut before I have to start wearing the wig. My fantasy thought is that the hair loss will stop, now that I've taken drastic measures, as if the chemo were saying, "Just kidding! Now I'm going to go back to skrinking your lump. Enjoy the new do!"

Balancing act

One of my challenges is finding the right balance between taking good care of myself and doing what I am capable of doing. That's probably true for anyone in any circumstance, but health issues certainly magnify the quest for balance.

Before Cancer 2.0 stepped into my path, I was pretty nonstop -- starting most weekdays with 6 a.m. workouts, putting in long days at work with occasional evening meetings, filling weekends and other free time with household, family and church obligations. I was fine with that, but now I see my schedule was controlling me instead of the other way around.

An acquaintance who speaks from the experience of her own serious health challenge a few years ago warned she would be watching to see that I give myself the time and attention I need to heal. It was good advice, and I am trying to heed it.

Still, when I am feeling good, I struggle to know the best course. Should I head back to the gym and try a little workout? Should I set the alarm to get into the office early or let my body tell me when it's time to get up? Should I accept more evening invitations -- both work-related and personal? Should I continue doing and going until I tire, or should I call more preventive timeouts?

It is foreign to baby myself, and I don't want to swing too far in that direction. The balance I seek is between treating this cancer fight seriously and not turning my life over to it.

Shrink, baby, shrink!

I felt a little like a Halloween pumpkin getting ready to be carved. The doctor was pressing the lump in my abdomen, marking its edges as he went with his black pen. He didn't draw a smile on my tummy, but I felt one inside. Cautious but optimistic, he said it seemed a slight bit softer than when he had previously palpated it.

Many times with sarcomas, chemotherapy can kill off the cancer cells but still leave much of the dying tumor behind, not much smaller than when it was growing, the doctor explained. Drawing the edges will give us something to measure against in coming weeks, he explained.

Blood test results gave us more reason to smile. What the doctors call a tumor marker had gone from 5 when I had my annual checkup with Dr. Brenda in July to a 48 just before my chemotherapy began. Now it is 41 -- definitely moving in the right direction.

My own comfort level also tells me something is working. My belly no longer feels ready to explode, pressing painly against my innards.

I am holding onto the image of a fast-shrinking tumor. I might even ask Tom to retrace the doctor's pen lines with a Sharpie to make sure we can document the lump's retreat!