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Posts Tagged ‘recovery’

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This morning I ran the BAA 5K. For those not familiar with it, it is 3.1 miles along Newbury St., Commonwealth Ave., and starts and finishes on Boylston St., by the Boston Public Library. In fact, it ends at the finish line for the Boston Marathon, which happens to be tomorrow. While the Marathon has been consuming much of my time – helping our Genzyme Boston Marathon Team with events and fundraising for NORD – the 5K has been looming in my mind.

As many of you know, I only started running in October 2011. I always swore I’d never run. I was the non-athlete who thought she was going to die when they demanded we all run a mile in school. But inspired by both our Genzyme Running Team and my cousin Tara, I ran my first 5K in December 2011 – the very fun but very cold Jingle Bell Run – and participated in Genzyme’s first Rare Disease Day Relay (last three miles) on February 29, 2012. Then, of course, I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer in March 2012 and with the ensuing surgery, treatments and side effects, the running pretty much stopped.

I tried numerous times to get started again – and each time I did, something happened like:

  • I was signed up for the Newport Half Marathon in October, then found out I needed more chemo, so that was out.
  • I signed up for the Jingle Bell Run in December, thinking that was a good way to start over (repeating my first race), then found out I needed radiation.
  • I signed up for the second Rare Disease Day in February, and then got sick just before.

So it was declared that it must be the lingering effects of the 2011/2012 hell year combo and I was cursed. I simply couldn’t sign up for any more races until I successfully ran one again – and luckily I had signed up for the BAA 5K before that third bullet, so we were just holding our breath that nothing would happen before it…

Th BAA 5K is significant to me for multiple reasons:

  • This was the first race I saw Tara run, in April 2011. I took her kids to cheer her on and watch her cross the finish line. I was so proud of her, and it never even occurred to me that I could do the same thing – 3.1 miles seemed like forever! And at that point I hadn’t quite made the connection yet that if I ran, I could eat and still lose weight, so I was still swearing off running.
  • I’ve been supporting our Boston Marathon Team since I joined Genzyme and they are such a fabulous group of compassionate, committed people. While I have no desire to ever run the Marathon (sorry Phil), I love the idea of doing something that ties so closely to the team.
  • It’s one of my favorite courses – it’s basically home. Since it’s right between my last apartment in Beacon Hill and my current apartment in Brookline, it’s one of my main running paths, especially at night. When I first started out, I mainly ran along the Charles River, along the esplanade, but then some runners were attacked there, so I started running up and down Boylston, Newbury and Commonwealth – all busy streets with wide sidewalks – if I was going out after dark. And there’s nothing like window shopping and people watching to make a run fly by!

It’s been harder getting back into running than I thought it would be. I think that’s in part due to the season and the cold – I am always so much more motivated to run when it’s nice out. Lucky for me, spring is now here: the Swan Boats returned to the Public Garden on Saturday, so now it has to be nice!

And the last few weeks I’ve been having shin pain, which I’ve never had before, and have really just been slugging along- much more walking than running… but I was determined, no matter what my pace or if it hurt a bit, to do this race.

And I did (even remembered to wear my compression sleeve), with such an incredible group of supporters: Tara (who in just three years has graduated to running her first Boston Marathon tomorrow!), and some of my Genzyme Marathon Team family: Jessi, Colleen, Kyle, Andrew, Sean and James – and Cian and David from Ireland not only cheered me on, but ran, too! I look forward to cheering you all on at the Marathon tomorrow!  And Nick and Shay even joined us for a celebratory brunch (complete with mimosas for a few of us…) after the race. Thank you all so much for being there for me – it meant more than you know!!!

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So now the curse has been lifted, and I am mulling a new goal: Disney Princess Half Marathon in Walt Disney World in February. (If it wasn’t the end of kid’s February vacation, I would definitely do it – but must weigh pros and cons before committing.) In the meantime, I’m going to sign up for a few more 5Ks…

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It worked. My determination to look forward and focus on the future really did help to pull me out of my funk and get me back on track. But what I also realized was that I couldn’t keep (and I can hear certain people snorting at this even before the words hit the screen) burying myself in work and denying anything is different. So I decided to finally – one year later – face cancer.

Just after my last blog entry called Facing Forward, I was on Dana-Farber’s website and found that a new session was starting called – ironically – Facing Forward After Breast Cancer Treatment. As you’ve probably figured out, while I love talking to people about their problems and helping them figure everything out, I’m not the biggest fan about talking to others about my feelings, especially if it could bring tears. But I realized that if I’m ever really going to move forward, this could really help. So I went.

It was the first time I’ve ever been in a room where the vast majority of women had hair practically the same inch or so length as mine – made me smile! As did hearing why these sessions were created: “Life as you know it is changed. You’re vulnerable. You’ve lost some control. You have a sense of time being limited.” Yup, yup, yup, yup. “During treatment you’re busy, focused on fighting.  Then it all stops. The transition can be very difficult. People assume since you’re done with treatment you should be ready to move on. And you feel guilty for not being there yet.” Exactly. Clearly I was in the right place.

It was explained to us that this is a “psycho education group.” So not a straight support group exactly, but a combo with expert speakers, the first being a medical oncologist. You would think after all the time I’ve spent with doctors during the last year that I would know it all – but I learned several new things – and felt good that I was able to answer some questions for others and help them, too. Some of what surprised me, I think I have heard before but probably just didn’t want to believe – or hoped that I’d be the exception. Not seeming so… As many of you know, I’ve been frustrated because I’m not back to where I was running-wise. Well, one thing I learned was that fatigue typically lasts about two years after treatment. Two years!!! So I guess my slow three miles (more walking than running), three months our of treatment, is better than nothing. You know what else can last two years? The neuropathy – the numb tingling feeling in my fingers and feet. I’m so sick of that – but guess it may be around a while longer…

But I’m here. And I’m basically healthy. And I have the best friends and family in the world. And I love my job. So I’m happy. And thankful. And I’m on the right track.

So I didn’t stop there. On Saturday, I took another step: I went to the Young Adult Cancer Conference at Dana-Farber. And I was really glad I did. More than the sessions, it was meeting other people around my age who have faced (or are facing) cancer, that made it such a worthwhile day. Everyone has a story, and they are all so compelling, no matter how straight forward they are. Kicking off the day was Mike Lang, a cancer survivor who, with his wife Bonnie, has completely transformed his life to help others facing cancer by taking them on adventures through Survive and Thrive Expeditions, as well as helping them tell their stories through movies, like Wrong Way to Hope. He shared his amazing story and clips from his latest venture: Valleys, which you can watch on Huff Post – Generation Why. Try to watch any of his work without shedding a tear – I dare you! It is so raw and true – we can all relate. What I really love is his motto: Reflect. Refocus. Rebuild. Live. Yup – that is exactly what I am doing!

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I haven’t posted in a while for several reasons: We were away; I was sick, including while we were in Florida; it’s been crazy busy at work both before I left and since I got back. But I guess the real reason is I haven’t known what to say. Or I should say, I don’t like what I’ve been feeling and hate being negative.

I’ve been having a really hard time with this anniversary. Last Thursday was one year from the day I found the first lump, and this Wednesday is the anniversary of the diagnosis. And I have just been living with this heavy dread, constantly fighting off tears, and in this just dark place. I hate to be that way. I slept till noon yesterday, and only woke up because Nick kissed my forehead to tell me he had great deli sandwiches in the living room. So I moved to the couch, had a few bites, and vegged back out. The only reason I got up at all was because we had a Running for Rare Diseases fundraiser and I try to never miss those. So I rallied for a few hours, but then went home and crashed again.

I woke up in the same funk. It’s been like living that time over and over – only this time it’s actually been worse, because I know the outcome. Last year I was out drinking and having a merry time with my cousin on St. Patrick’s Day, not thinking that the biopsy would actually come back cancer. This year I moped around the apartment. Let me tell you, the emotional scars are so much worse than the physical ones… I’m dwelling and I despise that. So I’m done. I can’t do this until Wednesday or I’ll go crazy.

So what? So what if it’s the anniversary? So what if it was a hell year? So what if my life is completely different? So what if it will never really be over? What is crying over it actually going to do? Nothing. I have to stop thinking about the past and focus on the future. Or at least start living in the present again. I may not really like everything about my current reality, but at least I’m here. I lived through it. I made it through surgery and chemo and radiation. And I’m recovering. My hair is growing back – strangers no longer see me and know I had cancer. In a few months I can have my implant surgery. Eventually I’ll feel like a normal girl again.

It could be so much worse. I am lucky. I know that. Blessed. And I am thankful, so thankful… Speaking of thankful, thanks to all who joined me in Florida last week – even those I only got to see for a few minutes! Nick, Tara, Kevin, Mike, Steve, Kelli, Hudson, Holden, Shannon, Jack, Julian, Janie, Monique, Dad, Maggie, Mom, Mark, Jake and Kacie (and congratulations on your engagement!!!)… it really was a great, relaxing time. And now I’ve done the requisite celebrating and can move on.

I’m going to do my best this week to stay focused on the future, and leave the past behind me. An anniversary is just another day. It is not happening all over again, so no need to keep reliving every moment over and over again in my head. What’s done is done and I have come a long way from then. No more mourning who I was – time to get back to getting comfortable with and accepting the new me. She’s not that bad, and hey, with a little time and attention, I can make her that much better…

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