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Archive for the ‘Boston’ Category

The Best Laid Plans…

Posted in Boston, Cancer, Decisions, hair, Planning, recovery, tagged , , , , on May 18, 2013| 2 Comments »

When I’m tired, I am indecisive. And I can’t stand it when people are indecisive – definitely one of my pet peeves. This has been a very long week – lots of early mornings and late nights. And lots of eating during those early mornings and late nights, and no time for exercise (except walking to and from work yesterday). That adds up to being tired and feeling fat. Not a great combination.

So last night I was supposed to go for drinks for my friend Andrew’s birthday – at 9 p.m. Ordinarily that would’ve been perfect, but not after this week. The feeling fat and stressed was winning out so I texted Andrew my apologies and said I was going to yoga. At least with the walk home and to and from yoga and the stretching with yoga I’d feel like I was moving in the right direction.

What I didn’t count on was being delayed leaving work, then getting home too late to get changed and walk to yoga. So I went to plan B – go for a brief run. I was really dragging, but at least I’d get some exercise in, which is always better than none. I got into
my running clothes, laced up my sneakers, found my gym boss and … I made the HUGE mistake of sitting down on my bed to reply to some texts that had just come in. And then I leaned back. Before you knew it, there I was, head to toe in running gear, fast asleep.

I woke up around 11 pm to a text from Nick. I responded, took my sneakers off and crawled back into bed. Clearly I needed sleep!

Third time’s the charm, right? And for me, it was. I hopped out of bed this morning, ready for a good run! The sun was shining, and hey – I was already dressed for a run! I threw my sneakers back on, grabbed my phone and headphones, and out the door I went.

And then I was pleasantly surprised by one of my neighbors. I stopped by my car to grab my sunglasses and as I closed the door, he walked toward me. We exchanged hellos and then he said he was glad to hear I was sticking around. A bit confused how he knew I was moving at all, I simply said thank you and started to point to my new apartment when he said the number. Heck, he probably knew I had the place before I did! I was surprised because I didn’t think I was noticed here, and then he really shocked me:

“You always inspire me,” he said.

“Huh?” I responded (eloquent, I know).

“Whenever my back is aching and I don’t want to move, I think of you and how you keep going, and know I can, too.”

“Thank you – I’m so glad,” I bumbled, amazed he even knew anything about me. But I guess the fact that I moved in with long brown hair, then it was cut, then shaved, then wigs, then bald, and now short brown hair – I guess maybe some of my neighbors noticed. Hard to miss at some points.

So we smiled, wished each other good days and headed on our separate ways. And that brief encounter made my day. It reminded me that whether people acknowledge you or not, there’s always someone watching – and sometimes appreciating – what you do. And today it made me thankful that I fell asleep last night and ended up with plan C.

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Missed Spring

Posted in Boston, Cancer, chemotherapy, Discovery, Fundraising, hair, lymphedema, prayer, recovery, work, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 13, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Friday night I attended the Birds and All That Jazz fundraiser at Tara’s Mass Audubon Sanctuary, Oak Knoll, in Attleboro. It was a relaxing evening of music and mingling (and food and wine), all in the name of charity. (What girl doesn’t love a reason to get dressed up – especially when there’s wine and chocolate involved? See pictures below. ) And luckily, it was a beautiful night, with a warm breeze and what I now know were tree frogs (not birds, as I originally thought), providing a natural soundtrack to the event. I was talking with a few people who commented how much of a better turnout the event had this year, when it occurred to me that I didn’t attend in 2012. I looked quizzically at Kevin and asked “Why wasn’t I here last year?” and he gave me one of those knowing, smiling, “Duh, Amy” looks. Oh yea. Because I got cancer. I looked at the woman next to me, shook my head and simply said “It doesn’t matter. But I certainly would’ve rather been here.”

I missed last spring. Completely. I really don’t remember it. In my mind, it jumped from cold February to warm July. My spring was finding the lump, diagnosis, breast cancer 101, Dana-Farber, surgery at Brigham and Women’s, the start of treatment and my grandfather passing away. It was a gut-wrenching, often medicated, blur.

It makes this spring that much more special. I have always loved spring – it’s the time when things come alive and can begin again. And I am so ready to begin again! I had my first official check-up at Dana-Farber with my oncologist and all seems well. It’s a little anticlimactic, as they don’t really do any tests – it’s just making sure you’re not having any symptoms, and if not, assuming all is fine. (Yes, a big leap of faith – something where you really just need to take deep breaths, remain calm and positive, and pray.)

And all is basically fine. I am having a flair-up of lymphedema, and will call to make an appointment with my physical therapist, but in the meantime have been doing the exercises and wearing the glove and sleeve (even though I can’t stand them) most of the time. Otherwise, all seems ok. The side effects of the Tamoxifin have subsided – not many hot flashes any more – and while the chemo side effects of tingling in my hands and feet continue, I’m now trying a B-complex vitamin to see if it will help. And of course I’m tired – but I can hardly blame the cancer or treatment on that, at least not completely. Nothing is limiting my work or other activities and I am very thankful for that!

My hair is growing, and normal life is resuming. I know that I am blessed. And I am going to cherish this spring and take advantage of beginning again…462395_500062926715477_494659541_o 302907_10201073312822099_616309187_n girls birds

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Guest Blog: What a Difference a Year Makes

Posted in Boston, Cancer, chemotherapy, Dreams, family, Planning, radiation, recovery, work, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 30, 2013| Leave a Comment »

The following is a guest blog written by my dear cousin Tara, because she knew I just couldn’t tonight. Thank you, T…

A year ago, exactly, Amy asked me to guest blog on AmysAmerica.com. She asked me to write for her the day that she had her surgery, knowing she wouldn’t be up to it that night. I felt a wash of things. Honored she would ask me to write here, a place where she shares her own thoughts, advises, and inspires so many people. Terrified, that something would go wrong in surgery, that it would be worse than we feared. Angry, that at 38 and 39, somehow our lives had taken this unbelievably wrong turn and the girls that grew up pretending to be happy, secure (wealthy… famous…fabulous) adults, found ourselves a little off course, a little scared, and facing challenges we wouldn’t have even known to imagine.

Well, we did it. You did it, Amy. You not only survived the year – a LONG year of surgery and treatments – you did it with courage, with style, with grace, and not just a little tenacity and fervor. 

I woke up and texted Amy this morning: That no matter what happened today, it had to be better than last year. And then, finally, a new month, new us, the more organized, more empowered, don’t f*** with us versions. 

And we laughed. 

And tonight when she texted on her way home from a long day at work, to go home to do more work, to get up to get in early for another long day tomorrow (Because that’s what she does. Well. And loves it), I offered to write again. Not, at the time, realizing that it had been exactly a year ago that I did so. And it just felt right. Because that’s what you do for the people you love, right? You step in, you take a little something off their full plate, anything to share the burden. 

A few weeks ago, I ran the marathon (almost). And I had a bunch of amazing family and friends either there in person or in spirit. And in frustration, adrenaline, and maybe some post-run dopamine influence, I signed up to run the NJ marathon this weekend. I just did it. And when I told Amy, she didn’t ask why, she didn’t tell me I was crazy, she simply asked “want me to book the hotel room?” And I cried (because I’m still pretty emotional over the whole marathon disaster) and texted back “really??? you want to come to NJ” and she wrote “(rolling my eyes) do you really think I’d let you finish your first marathon without being there?” (yeah, I’m crying now, too.)

I guess my long-winded, one year out, post surgery anniversary blog point is this. Things happen every day that we couldn’t have imagined a year before, a day before, an hour before, even. Terrible, horrific things, beautiful, mind-blowing, life-affirming things. We just don’t know. And that’s a lot of chaos and uncertainty. But with luck, you find a few people to ride the crazy roller coaster with and make the best of the worst and better of the best times with. I count myself incredibly fortunate to have some of the best. You at the forefront, Amy Lee. 

I am so very, deeply, to the core, thankful that this chapter is ending. That a new one starts now, that every day you remind me to take the lessons from the past and then file it away, plan for the remarkable things we have yet to achieve, but live in the present and be thankful in this moment.  

Here’s to May 1.

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