Feeds:
Posts
Comments

One year ago today I shaved my head. So many other things were happening – I was moving, I had just started chemo, my relationship was ending, I fell and fractured my arm and bruised my knee – and then my hair started to fall out, so I shaved it. I remember the day so well; thinking about it makes me feel like I’m reliving it. (It all really hurt, some mentally and some physically, so I’m not going to spend much time thinking about it or rehashing it here.) But then in other ways, it feels like it was a lifetime ago. Sometimes I’m amazed at all that happened in the span of a year!

Last night, I took a break from unpacking (yep, I moved again!) and Tina and I went to see Tim McGraw at the Comcast Center. And of course he sang Live Like You Were Dying. Just as last year when I saw him perform it live at Gillette, it wrecked me. As I listened to the words (and cried my eyes out), I thought. Have I lived like I was dying? I know that was my original intention, but what have I really done in this past year? The first thing that jumped in my head was “survived.” I have survived the year. I fought through the year. I struggled to remain some semblance of normalcy through the 24 weeks of chemo and six weeks of radiation. I bought any beauty product that I thought might make me look more normal while bald. I tried to keep everything going even when I felt like just going to sleep.

I didn’t go sky diving. I haven’t been mountain climbing or bull riding since my road trip in 2010. I’ve tried to stay close to my friends and family, but I haven’t seen or talked to them nearly as much as I would like or feel I should. In fact, my life has seemingly resumed its normal chaos, pace and craziness. Maybe that’s not a good thing. Maybe it’s time to change that.

The problem is, there simply is not enough time in any day, not enough days in a week, not enough… well, you get it. There are so many things I want to do and never, ever enough time to do it. So maybe what that song means is not just that I have to rush to do all the things I want to do (in case I die tomorrow), but to take the time to do the things that really matter. To spend what precious time you do have wisely. I need to think about that. And I will. But for right now I am happy and thankful. Happy and thankful to have hair again, to be settling into my new apartment, to have a job I love, and family and friends who mean the world to me. And that I don’t have to go through chemo this summer and remember to put lotion or a hat on my bald head!

Tim2013

It occurred to me that there are so many cool things going on that I want to spread the word about, so I created a new widget on the right of your screen called Upcoming Events. I’ll try to keep that as current as possible, and will usually provide a link for more info, too.

Learn: Bright Pink Boston is hosting Breast and Ovarian Health 101 on Tuesday, June 11, 6 p.m. at the Boston Public Library. “Become empowered to be proactive with your breast and ovarian health. This educational workshop could be life saving for you and/or someone you love!” I’m going and it would be great to see friends there!

Walk/Run: Some of our Genzyme Running Team members have teamed with employees from other Cambridge area life sciences companies to organize a 5K to remember those affected by the Boston Marathon bombings, to raise money for the One Fund, and to recognize local police officers for their service. You don’t have to work for a biotech – everyone is welcome! Thursday, June 13, 4 p.m., Genzyme Center, Kendall Square, Cambridge: Cambridge Life Sciences Memorial 5k for The One Fund

Walk/Run/Roll: This Saturday, June 15, 10:30 a.m.at the Massachusetts Hospital School in Canton is the fourth annual Spina Bifida Walk-N-Roll! I’m not sure if I will be able to make it, but please support my cousin Hannah’s team, Hannah’s Banana’s: http://www.walknrollsbagreaterne.org/ng/index.cfm/aa26888/regPages/pledge/HBANANAS97/

Paint: Urban Art Bar Event to Benefit Bright Pink Boston, Wednesday, June 26, 6:30 p.m. “Sip, socialize and paint at the Urban Art Bar and benefit the Boston chapter of Bright Pink!” Really wish I could go to this, but believe I will be away for work. Please go and have a drink for me – and have fun painting. 🙂

Walk with Us!!! I am FINALLY getting organized and really getting our Boston Marathon Jimmy Fund Walk Team (Sunday, September 8, 2013) rolling. Please join our Team Inspire Boston – sponsors are also welcome/needed! I’ll post more about this soon, but no need to wait – sign up or donate here: http://www.jimmyfundwalk.org/2013/teaminspireboston Thank you very much!

Sinking In

So the disappointing news about the surgery wasn’t the worst thing that happened last week. In fact, my conversation on Friday with my physical therapist put the one with my reconstructive surgeon to shame.  It’s taken me until now to digest it all – in fact, I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet, but I decided I need to write about it to get it out of my system and start the new week fresh.Long story short: she told me that I am supposed to wear the damn sleeve and glove every day for the rest of my life. Yes. Every. Single. Day. Forever. You can imagine my response. In my head: F@$% that! In reality: “You’ve got to be kidding me?!” Her response? “No, I am completely serious. You’ve see what happens when you don’t wear it – the swelling comes back. You need to wear it to keep the lymphedema under control.”

The miserable glove and sleeve

The miserable glove and sleeve

She went on to inform me that while she “didn’t want to scare me” if it got worse, she and I would become best friends because we’d need to go to wrapping in which case I would have to go there every day for about two weeks, 7-8 hours a day to have my arm wrapped the entire time. You’ve got to be kidding me. Frankly, this is all way worse in my mind than cutting my chest off.

So every day, must do the massage, and the exercises, and wear the sleeve and glove. Ugh. I honestly can’t comprehend this right now. Just when I think I get to go back to being somewhat normal. I just want to scream.

I came home rip-roaring mad (it didn’t hurt that a family member had called and given me other disappointing/frustrating news), and told Nick all about it, ending with, “They expect me to wear it every day for ever – I don’t think so!!!” (Maybe there were a few bad words mixed in there too…) And once again, Nick just looked at me and said, “Mom, don’t be stupid. If it’s going to help you, you do it.” Ugh. When did he become the parent?

I know logically that he is right. But I don’t want to. I hate the sleeve and glove. They’re grungy even though (or because) I wash them. It’s summer and they’re hot. Mom is going to try making some lightweight, fashionable sleeves to go over the medical sleeves (which are really expensive or I’d get all different ones like those from Lymphedivas). And they make it obvious something is wrong with me. People are always asking me now what the sleeve and glove are for, and because explaining what lymphedema is can be confusing, I just say “cancer related – my arm swells.” And it used to be when they would ask how long I have to wear it for I would say “just a little longer.” Not any more…

So I need more time to let this sink in. I’m not going to say I’ll wear them every day forever, but I won’t rule out wearing it the majority of the time. We’ll see. I have a lot of research to do…