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Posts Tagged ‘chemo’

Curt Schilling, the former World Series Champion Red Sox pitcher just announced to the world that he has cancer. Tears welled up in my eyes. Not because I know Curt personally, but because I know exactly how he felt when he heard those words, “You have cancer.” It was probably the same way my friend Monica’s mom felt when she was diagnosed. And Greg. And Lisa. And Patrick. And Bonnie. And Giuliana. It doesn’t matter if you’re famous, if you’re young, old, a guy or a girl. The world as you know it has ended.

Cancer doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor. You can’t buy your way out of cancer. And the doctors, nurses, and other healthcare workers at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, Brigham and Women’s Hospital, and I’m sure other hospitals, treat you the same regardless of your bank account. They want to help you beat it, whether your name is in the newspaper or not.  

I hate that anyone has to go through what I did – and some much worse. If I knew Curt, I would tell him the one thing that matters most: It’s all about your attitude. Stay positive, truly believe you will beat it, and (with lots of prayers, support and your dream team of doctors) you will. Be like Monica’s mom who, when she lost all of the hair on her head, simply said she’s happy to be saving money at the hairdresser. Because when it comes down to it, she’s no different from you, Curt. Cancer doesn’t care. But luckily people do.

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I woke up and heard Cory telling his sister on the phone that it was going to be a rainy day. I reached over and grabbed my phone and saw that not only was it not raining yet (only 60% chance at 9 am – yes, I slept until 9), but it was 46 degrees out – woo hoo! Because today is the first day I’m allowed to start running – again.

I’ve had more starts and stops in this short running career since I was inspired by Tara and the Genzyme Running Team to take it up in the late fall of 2011. Ran my first 5k that December (the Jingle Bell Run – so fun!), then found the lump and got the breast cancer diagnosis in March 2012. Surgery quickly followed. No running for a long time. Start back. Chemo. A little running but not much energy to run – then afraid I’d fall with my numb toes and soles of my feet. Lymphedema set in – so glove and sleeve when running from now on until eternity. Then a bit of running, but winter and radiation and the combo was not my favorite – and still little energy and numbness. I ran my first 5k back, the BAA 5k, the day before the Boston Marathon – it was strange that I got to cross the finish line when so many of my friends and family didn’t get to the next day. I worked my way to my first 10k – the BAA 10k, their first event after the marathon. Since then it’s been some running, walking, a stupid fall – and then surgery again. (Oh and winter – which we know I hate to run in the cold.) But now hopefully the last surgery is done and I’m allowed to start running – again.

So back to realizing it was warm (relatively) out. I know me. If I didn’t roll out of bed and get in my running clothes and out the door right then, before the rain, it wasn’t going to happen. And I have new sneakers to break in!

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So I did. And the second after I got outside and snapped that picture of my new sneakers, it started to pour. Of course it did. I thought about going back inside, but thought “Amy, you just posted a picture saying you’re going for a run – you have to run at least a mile.” (Well, run/walk – remember, I do intervals.) Argh. Fine. I turned up my music, turned on Map My Run, tucked my phone in my sleeve and started to run. (Quick side note and shout out to awesome Matt O’Shea for sending me info on how to make Nike+ show my map while running – I remembered the tip halfway through, tried it and it worked! May switch to that app from now on. I like the cheering. 🙂 Thank you! )

Luckily, after about a mile the rain stopped and it just remained… dreary, and at least not cold. And heck, I’d gone a mile – I might as well go another half before turning around, right? Which brought me to Kenmore Square:

20140111-104108.jpgAll the restaurants made me realize I hadn’t eaten anything, so definitely time to turn around. As I was running by a store window I caught a glimpse of myself and realized: it’s the first time I’ve been able to run with a real pony tail!

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Kind of silly, I know, but a milestone that made me smile… And as I ran I had various aches and pains – first my knee, then my hip, then my ankle, and always slight throbbing on the right side of my chest, but all things I can work through. I think my body is just shocked it’s moving again!

I made it back, slowly, but having put the first 3.1 miles on my new sneakers – so basically a 5k. Not bad for the first venture out. It will be a long road to my goal of a half marathon this year, but I know I can do it. And hopefully no more start/stops in the foreseeable future…

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I think my head is going to burst. Way too many things running through my mind, and I really can’t focus on any of them.

Today I was 100% focused on helping Tina and family do our best to convince the Parole Board not to release Scott’s killer. It will be several weeks to several months before we will know their decision, but I am confident we did everything possible and pray that justice will prevail.

In fact, I was so focused, it wasn’t until I went to my car and heard the voicemail from the hospital that I remembered I was supposed to call them to confirm my surgery by 3 p.m. Oops. Luckily they were still there and confirmed when I returned their call.

(Pleeeaaaasssseeee do not be offended if you are one of the dozens who’ve asked me this question) but no, right now I am not too excited for surgery. (Tissue expanders are being replaced with implants – finally.) I don’t feel like I have any of that emotion to give. Yes, I am thankful that I will finally get these rocks off my chest and start to feel some semblance of normal again, but no, it’s not the end. It will be months for these wounds to heal, and then I can do the nipples. And even then, although it will be physically over (besides the lovely lymphedema), there will still be somewhere between 4 and 9 years more of Tamoxifen. Honestly, it will never be over, because then, after I go off my wonder drug, I will worry about recurrence…

This feels somewhat like when chemo ended and people wanted me to celebrate. I’m just not feeling it. However, some have suggested a birthday party for my new boobs each year – now that is an idea that makes me smile! I’m not sure how my youngest goddaughter will feel about sharing her birthday with them, but when she’s older she’ll probably get a kick out of it – at least I know I’ll never forget the date! (And it seems so much more fun to remember that date than dates like when I found the lump, got the diagnosis or had the double mastectomy…)

So between the hearing, surgery, birthdays (my 10-year-old Goddaughter and my 102 year-old Nana), holiday parties, decorating, shopping for the holidays, trying to make sure all is wrapped up at work (and push it all out of my mind from now on), etc., etc., I’m fried. I’m actually looking forward to being drugged up tomorrow (uh, well, I guess today now since it’s 1 a.m.). Maybe it will quiet my brain enough that it will reset and all will suddenly be clear. Ha! I can hope, right? At least I know I’ll be amused with mom and Nick taking care of me until Cory’s down this weekend. And with Tara and Mark at the hospital, too, I know I don’t have to worry about anything. And no, Tina, there will be no skyping to laugh at my drug-induced musings – although I’m sure they will have fun telling you all about it…

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