Take a Hike 2008; Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out

I'm not being overly mean to 2008 am I? Everybody agrees it was a stinker year. Like I always say, nothing like a dose of the bad to make you appreciate the good.

So, this is the blog entry where I get to look over the whole cancer experience from the past year and say profound things. Ummm ... nothing profound comes to mind.

When I started this blog, I was staring death in the face (warning: do not try that at home or anywhere else for that matter). I had no idea what I was in for. To tell you the truth, I thought that maybe my blog would serve as a good record of my thoughts for my kids to read after I died. I never knew what my own Mom was thinking as she fought and lost her battle with cancer, so I wanted to be as open and honest for what was to come so they would know that no matter what happened, I was okay.

Thing is, now that I look back, it just wasn't all that life shattering. I had a heck of a time with my medical staff and my insurance, but in the end that all worked out. I was totally freaked out that I would wake up after my mastectomy and have a *major* freak out, but I awoke to realize that I was just fine. I did learn a lot about the people around me: who ultimately steps up, who doesn't, the things people say, who I can count on and who I can't. That was a big one. I found out what amazing stuff my daughters are made of. Another big one.

In 2008 cancer was a good teacher. It changed my life for the better. I am softer, kinder, gentler. While I have to wait for the five year mark to officially claim that I am cured, I already know that I am. So, what's to say about that? It is what it is, not good or bad, just is. A short, meaningful encounter. Kinda like a 6-month stand.

Guess like the blog says at the very top up there, I can check cancer off my list and get on with my life. I am thankful it turned out that way.

How I can ever thank you, all of you, is something I will never be able to do adequately. Just know you'll always be able to count on me. Cancer taught me that together we can do anything.

Thanks, love, and a joyous 2009 - Jen

The First Followup

Well it's December 1st and for me that means "the day" has finally come.

It's the day that my Surgeon, Oncologist, Radiologist and Internist all told me to schedule my six-month followup mammogram on the right breast. This because it contains all the same specks of calcifications that my left one did. So it has to be watched. Closely. From now on it's a perma-date. Me, the mammogram machine, and my right breast. Every six months from here to eternity.

At least the mammogram will only cost half as much now, har har!

It's funny, but in September when my Oncologist kicked me lose and told me I was done with all doctors, I hightailed it out of there fast. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Out of there. Less one breast, I didn't look back. And trust me, life has been sweet.

But because it is December 1st, I am forced to go back. Back there. Again.

I opened my day planner to "the page" in the back that has all the doctor's numbers, addresses, fax numbers, emergency numbers, and more. It's been several months and unexpectedly my gut fell straight into my shoes. It feels like being forced to open a doorway to the past. A rush of old emotions. And not in a good way.

I remember that my ex-mother-in-law, who had her own harrowing encounter with breast cancer many years ago, absolutely hated her follow-up visits. Days beforehand, she would become filled with anxiety and it seemed there was nothing we could do for her except be supportive. I remember distinctly at her 5-year-mark when she was FINALLY declared CANCER FREE. It was a great day in many ways, but for her, to never to have to go back for another damned follow-up visit was one definite perk of the 5-year milestone.

She is a hero to me, by the way. Like all women with this disease who do what they have to do, she did it with grace and calm and strength. She remains cancer free to this day.

So, my appointment is for Wednesday, December 3rd. I very much wish I could report that I am not apprehensive. That I am going in with all the confidence in the world. But, I will say that like many women before me, I will go and endure and that will be good enough because I have already proved my bravery and taken my stand against cancer.

Fingers crossed.

Love, Jen