7-Month Check-In

Today I parked in the back parking lot of the Rose Cancer Center and raced up the back stairs to get to my appointment for my monthly Zoladex shot. I wasn’t winded. Like, at all. I was eager to get the appointment over with. You know, because I have THINGS to do. Cancer’s not my job anymore.

I know the drill and they know me (even though every single person there still calls me Kerr-stin). Get my weight, take my temperature and blood pressure and send me off to the nurses in back. Where I used to sit for hours on end getting chemo. Now I’m one of those people I used to watch, with jealousy and curiosity, as they popped in and popped out. They had graduated out of the hell I was living in. Today I was one of those people. Who pops in, gets a quick shot in the private room then pops out, smile on my face and pep in my step, with a “See you next month!”

On my way out I passed a woman sitting in the hallway. She was extremely skinny. Wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt despite temperatures over 80 degrees outside. Her head wrapped in a colorful scarf. She looked up at me and smiled with the bluest eyes set against her pale skin.

I used to get depressed going back there. It brought up a mix of feelings every time I would go for an appointment. I recently graduated to seeing my oncologist herself once every six months. It started as one, then two, then three then four. I got to skip right over five and I’m on six! I don’t have to see her until OCTOBER. It’s not lost on my how far I’ve come, in many ways. I used to worry when I would be back there — not if — despite what I might have said to any of you. I don’t feel that way anymore. I earned that f’ing pep in my step. I have crawled by back from the brink. Sometimes feeling the support of my tribe of friends and family and sometimes believing I was completely alone.

I’m one of the lucky ones. Who has people around her who will stop what they are doing to help — all I have to do is ask. And lately, I do. And I try to do as much for people in return as I can. But people in treatment don’t like to ask. So keep that in mind with others in your life. “:Let me know if I can do anything…” will likely go unanswered. Show up. With food. With a card. With a text. It’s true what Sheryl Sandberg said. Sit in the hospital lobby and say, “I’m downstairs if you want me to bring you up some tea or just want to know that someone is nearby. I’ll be here for 45 minutes.” (Paraphrasing). Or do the same outside of someone’s house. At least in my case, I felt like a giant inconvenience to everyone. To have a close friend say, “I’m bringing lunch today.” and then just show up with it — was phenomenal.

Once I was in the hospital going on day three or four. I hadn’t had a visitor or a decent meal in days. A “mom friend” of mine, on a Saturday night, texted and asked if she could bring me some good food. I couldn’t help but say yes. She had plans and couldn’t stay long. I know it’s a pain in the butt to park and navigate the hospital. She brought me the most delicious food from one of my favorite restaurants. I ate as much of it as I could and will never forget her standing there at the end of my bed. Or the time I was tethered to my bed in the Cardiac ICU at 8 a.m., bleary eyed after having an extremely chatty nurse sit down next to my bed after taking my blood at 5 a.m., when in walked the father of a college roommate who now lives nearly 1,000 miles away. He had a bouquet of flowers and a cheesy magazine at her request. Those are just three examples of the tiny things you can do when you feel like you’re powerless to help someone.

And to those of you who didn’t or couldn’t, I get it. Or at least I try to. Not everyone could stay so close to the fire. I’ve read countless blogs about how some people can’t handle it and how some people disappear when times are tough. I’ve had a bit of that too. A young mom being diagnosed with aggressive cancer is hard and stressful and uncomfortable forces people to realize that it can happen to anyone at anytime. When I think about that, I’m glad it was me. Because apparently I could handle it. And I’m hopeful and confident that I’ll never have to “handle it” again.

I started typing to just give a little update. But I suppose I’ll leave all of that. It’s been 15 months since I’ve had any type of infusion. In November it will be three years cancer free in my team’s eyes (the day the cancer was removed via my mastectomy). Every year that passes is another year of hope. Another year toward the 5-year milestone. Another year of research and new discoveries than can help should my situation change.

Every headache and pain is a concern. Every show and billboard and license plate with a little pink ribbon reminds you or brings you back to it in some way. Will I ever see a pink ribbon or watch a show that has a character with cancer and it doesn’t phase me? I’m not sure. I’m just taking one day at a time. Trying to be the healthiest and happiest I can.

In December I was diagnosed with Osteopenia. Chemo and the current pill regimen can cause it, the precursor to osteoporosis. It’s worse in certain areas than others and does increase my bone breakage risk. They say you can’t reverse it, but a new shot I will be getting apparently can keep it from not getting any worse. I have talked to a couple of people who say they have it and it’s no big deal. Yes, but they are decades older than me. I have to keep this stuff in check hopefully for about 40-50 more years.

This particular drug can cause major problems and quickly if you have any sores/infections in your mouth. Like the infection can multiply quickly and you can lose parts of your face kind of problems. Because a couple of my fillings were a little loose, we decided to replace them before I started getting the Boniva. I had all of my fillings replaced and, unfortunately, one didn’t replace well and I had to get a root canal. The tooth next to it is also now messed up, but I’m going to wait to address it until my cleaning in August and am holding off on the shot until then. I wish I would have left well enough alone — it’s turned out to be a stressful, lengthy, time-consuming and expensive process. But I can’t get the shot until I have everything fixed and healthy and apparently that’s quite an undertaking.

Other than that, all has been mostly fine. I’ve been having a lot of hip pain since last fall. Long story short — it’s not cancer, it’s not joint pain from my pills (I have that in other areas) and it’s not any kind of ligament or tendon problem. It seems I have a bit of bursitis, but the doc doesn’t think that’s causing the pain either. It seems to be a muscular problem. It’s very painful, every day and frustrating that I’ve seen no improvement with the methods and ideas they’ve given me. One massage therapist at my chiropractor is going into sports massage and has had some techniques that are definitely working on it (hurts so much but I know it has to help!). Unfortunately, I can’t always get in with him, but I try. He works at a spa in Birmingham too but insurance doesn’t cover that, unfortunately!

I may be looking at another surgery this fall. My plastic surgeon wants one more crack at getting my chest looking better (and so do I). The way everything settled isn’t great and doesn’t look that much different than before September’s reconstruction revision. It looked so amazing right after surgery! After the dust settled, there’s too much fat that was transferred and a lot of asymmetry in size and location. I know lots of women have uneven breasts, but it’s relatively extreme now. Not to mention over the course of the decades as the skin my left side ages and loosens. We’re meeting to go over it at my appointment in August and we’ll see. I’d like to get it done, just not sure it’s a smart move financially. Maybe I’ll just have to wait a bit.

Business was incredibly slow for a few months. Like I’ve never experienced in my years of being a personal chef. And being a single mom with an ever-growing stack of medical bills is no joke! So, I did what I needed to do, put on my big girl pants and got myself a waitressing job. I just started and the Fourth of July is screwing that up a bit (they close for a week). Then, just like that, business is back! I literally have 2 open days in July I think. I’m booking parties left and right and get several e-mails a week. I’ve experienced generosity from some of those around me in various forms and I’m so, so grateful for it. It will take me a few weeks to truly get back on my feet, but I’ll get there.

I also just joined a long-standing, respected group of doulas. I can’t say much about it now — it’s not public information yet — but I’ve just taken on my first client who is due in late September . I’m SO happy to be utilizing my training and helping moms and babies with an incredible group of women! We are still planning our attack — who we are hoping to serve and how. It’s very exciting, inspires me and I can’t wait to share more.

I’ve also been in talks with my oncologist and some folks at Gilda’s Club with an idea of being a “cancer doula” — for lack of a better name at the moment. People who don’t have someone to accompany them to appointments. Or who don’t want to go to a support group but could really use someone to talk too who knows (or has a better idea) of what to say and what not to say. (Some real doozies come my way — still!) Someone to run to the pharmacy, or make them some homemade food. I haven’t figured out all of the details yet, but it’s rattling around in my head and being discussed.

I was a part of Gilda’s annual fundraiser, “Gilda’s Big Night Out.” They had asked me to be a part of a short film they produced and it played during the program, before the big auction. A comedian originally from Michigan, who now writes for The Daily Show, performed and was hilarious. I’ve been approached about “modeling” in their Bras for a Cause fundraiser in October and said I would do it. As I would rather have people I know seeing me walking down a runway in a bra than strangers, maybe I’ll make you all attend. :)

I guess when you don’t do an update in 7 months it’s a real doozy. Ha.

I suppose in a couple of months I’ll have more info on the surgery situation. Until then, I’m just going to keep moving forward — working, taking care of my wild woman and looking forward to a bright future. Saying yes to all the opportunities and seeing what sticks. Thanks for all the love. <3