Just Me

Before we headed out on our photo shoot a couple of weeks ago, I was looking around on pinterest for some things to put on my Run Lipstick Chemo pinboard.  I stumbled across some photos of a woman photographed just after she finished chemo.  She was wearing a plain grey t-shirt and looked so casual and contemplative in the pictures.  They were lovely.  So instead of showing up for pictures in one of the lovely silk blouses I’d chosen originally (which of course, we did photograph eventually), I showed up in a plain grey tank top and my favorite yoga pants.  I’d have never thought of being photographed in something so plain, but it turns out, I really loved the way all these pictures turned out.  It was so hard to only show a few.

The other thing that surprised me about these photos—I’m not at all self-conscious of how I look, despite the fact that I was not even all the way through the first stage of reconstruction.  It’s a long process, but I have to say that my surgeon is not only very compassionate, but wants to make sure that I’m pleased with how I look every step of the way.  He made it very clear from our first meeting that he didn’t want me to feel like this was how I had to look because I had breast cancer, or even that I looked “good enough” for having had cancer.  He wanted me to be happy with how I looked.  Period.

In those pictures I saw on pinterest, the woman still had her port in.  Why didn’t I have any pictures of my port?  I can’t believe it!  I told Sally that I didn’t want her to photoshop out my port scar, even still, you really can hardly see it in most of the pictures.  Thankfully, it’s pretty prominent in one of my favorite shots.  I like that I don’t have on fancy clothes or statement jewelry.  These pictures are just me, scars and all.  And that’s not good enough.  It’s just good.

Photography by Sally Brewer Photography

Lipstick: Dior Addict Lip Glow

Bracelet: Choose Joy by lilblueboo

Kids | From the Pen of a Third Grader

I mentioned that I’m a little squeamish about using the term “survivor” and have a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to seeing the pink ribbon plastered all over.  Turns out my precious third grader has adopted the symbol as her own, and even she identifies with the term “breast cancer survivor.”  From the day I told her, I’ve found pink ribbons drawn all over the place, and I’ve had to work hard to convince her she doesn’t need a leotard emblazoned with pink crystals in the shape of a ribbon.  I think I only won that one because she can’t buy it on her own!  But seeing these notes she left me on my sewing machine (where she leaves most of my notes) is making me think about the term survivor again.  While I nearly wince to have to call myself a survivor, maybe it’s important for her that I do.  Maybe I’ll reconsider…

Missing Cancer | Naps

While I was on chemo, and for quite a while after, I took a nap just about every single day.  I’d skip a day here or there, but for the most part, I napped for two or three hours every afternoon.  Sometimes that put a bit of a damper on my fun, I once turned down a lunch invitation to District Taco just to be sure I had time for my nap!  I usually had company when I was at the hospital, but occasionally I’d sneak in a nap there, too.  My best hospital nap was probably just after this picture was taken, I was in this super teensy room while I waited to get appropriately radioactive for my PET scan.  The recliner I was in touched one wall when it was reclined, and my feet were touching the other wall.  I can see some people finding it claustrophobic, but it was huge compared to the tube they stuck me in moments later!

I’m missing my naps now, though.  There’s something so luxurious about using a nap as a perfectly acceptable excuse to do nothing.  Now I’m back to weekends-only naps, and last weekend was too busy, so it’s been a LONG time since I’ve had a nap.  Those were the good old days!

This post is part of a series of what I’ll miss from my time as a cancer patient.  I know cancer is a serious thing, not everyone tolerates treatment well, and not everyone recovers.  I don’t mean to offend by making light of a serious subject.  These posts are just a glimpse of my efforts to make the best of my situation—to find the silver linings wherever I can.

Love me, love my friends

All during my cancer treatments, I was so fortunate.  I didn’t have an unmet need.  Friends would literally fight over the opportunity to bring us meals.  Sally would post meal delivery dates, and usually within minutes, all the slots would be filled.  Friends watched my kids so that I could go to appointments or even just take a nap.  Cupcakes showed up at my door.  So did hats, jewelry, magazines, books…  We were so well taken care of at my house, I couldn’t have asked for more.

Sadly, I didn’t realize until a little late in the process that there was something more I should have asked for.  I should have asked for help for those who were doing so much to help me.  Clay is the obvious caregiver, but he was pretty well taken care of, too.  (I sometimes wonder if he misses all the yummy meals and treats people would bring us, now that it’s back to me doing all the cooking!)  But there were others who cared for me who weren’t as obvious.  Luckily, Sally’s husband was able to arrange his schedule so she only had to get a sitter a couple of times to come along to chemo.  But frequently she would spend the day with me, and as I returned to find dinner ready and waiting for me, she would drive the 45 minutes home and stop at the store to get what she needed to make dinner for her family.  My mom, many hours away, didn’t spend her whole day caring for me only to have to cook dinner.  Instead, she would spend my chemo days worrying—despite all my best efforts to convince her that it wasn’t so bad. Please don’t think I’m complaining.  (In fact, I think Sally would probably kill me if she thought I was soliciting meals for her!)  Lots of people thought of my friends and family!  A neighborhood friend watched Sally’s little one while I was in the hospital so she could stop by to visit.  Several friends showed up at the hospital to bring Clay lunch, snacks, and magazines to fill the day when I was in surgery.  A friend’s cousin (who I’ve only met a couple of times!) offered her home for my family to use when they visited us over Christmas.  A good friend of my mom met her for a special lunch while Sally and I celebrated at my last chemo treatment!

I’m definitely more in tune now to see the needs of a fellow cancer patient.  I know the things that people did for me that really touched me, perhaps I’ll share some of those some day.  But I think one thing that I really learned is that it’s the best friend, the mom, the sister who is the unsung hero.  She needs support, too.  The challenge I give myself is the same one I hope you’ll take on as your own.  Of course, if I have a friend going through something like this, I’ll make her dinner, take her kids, go with her to as many appointments as often as  she needs.  But I’ll also offer to watch her best friend’s kids.  And the next time I see a friend whose good friend is going through a tough time, I’ll do what I can to make it easy for her to be there for her friend.  Sally would never have asked, but a meal or a sitter would have made her life easier.  My mom didn’t need a sitter, but loved the distraction of a lunch date or shopping adventure on my chemo days.  It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, “Love me, love my friends.”

Flashback Friday

This is how I looked, and more notably, how Emma Clare looked, the last time I went into The Research Building at Georgetown University.  September 2004.  This photo was taken before we left the house the morning of my dissertation defense.  (And before I had a professional photographer following me around all the time!) After this day, I went back at most two or three times that month to go over some minor revisions before I deposited the final copy of my dissertation.  Almost nine years later, last Friday, I walked down the old familiar path past the Lombardi Cancer Center, past the icky Koi pond, and through the doors of The Research Building once again.  So much has changed since that day, and yet, as I peeked into the room where I spent countless hours in the hood doing cell culture, so much has remained unchanged.

Friday, I wound my way through those familiar halls for my first meeting with the Georgetown Lombardi Breast Cancer Patient Advocacy Committee.  I wish I could come up with an easier nickname than GLBCPAC—it doesn’t really just flow off the tongue—but there you have it.  Led by a researcher who started her postdoctoral fellowship the same year I left Georgetown, it’s a group of women who proudly call themselves breast cancer survivors (I’m still working on that one!) and volunteer their time to learn more about scientific research in the field of breast cancer.  From what I can gather, though none are scientists, many have gone through scientific and policy training to make them effective advocates for breast cancer research.  Some of them now work professionally in an advocacy position, some are retired and their volunteer work is now their only job, and some have maintained their original profession and are advocates in their “spare time.”  They have served on grant review panels, attended major cancer association annual meetings, and visited congressmen to lobby on behalf of breast cancer researchers and funding.  It was a pleasure getting to know them, and they were all so kind as they welcomed me.  As we talked about what I hoped to learn from the group, several suggested friends and colleagues they felt I would benefit from meeting.  Bright and early Tuesday morning, I’m going to get started following up on some emails and making a phone call or two to start building that network.  This group focuses more on research advocacy, though many are also involved in patient support as well, and they are a great resource in so many areas of breast cancer patient advocacy.  I’m so excited that I’ll have the opportunity to meet with them monthly over the summer while I’m trying to figure out if and how I’d like to look for a professional position in this field, and I foresee my relationship with these ladies will continue long into the future.

After the meeting was over, I walked down the hall a few doors and stopped into my old lab.  I said “hi” to a few familiar faces and sat down and talked for a while with the friend whose bench faced mine all those years ago.  The baby she had just before Emma Clare was born is now just a few inches shorter than she!  We talked about old friends, kids, travel, cancer.  Then I headed over to my mentor’s office and had a lovely chat with her.  I was a little apprehensive—some relationships are hard to pick up after so long.  But we had such a nice conversation, we spent a little time talking science, the role of patient advocates in the grant review process, and how that process has changed in the past ten years or so.  It was an energizing morning.  Having never really loved the bench work, when I left the lab nine years ago with that tiny baby on my hip, I never really anticipated I’d be back.  And yet, there I was.  What a wild ride.

On Being a Survivor

Having made it through chemo and surgery and having been told by the doctors that there is no residual disease, I have entered the third stage of my interaction with breast cancer.  Researcher.  Patient.  Now survivor.  That’s a hard word for me.  There are some benefits to using it—everyone knows what it means: I had breast cancer and I didn’t die. It means that at big breast cancer races I get the pink shirt and the cool swag bag.  It gains me access into a whole new community.  A community, it turns out, filled with vibrant, beautiful, compassionate women of all ages.

But I worry about using the term survivor.  In fact, I’ll probably use it when absolutely necessary (I love me some swag bags!) but I’m not sure I’ll refer to myself as a breast cancer survivor much.  I survived, but not because I’m stronger or made wiser decisions or am more favored by God.  I worry that to call myself a survivor somehow implies that those women who have gone before me, the ones who have succumbed to breast cancer, were weaker.  In fact, those ladies likely possessed more strength than I could ever imagine.

To survive something means that you’ve gotten through something hard, and I suppose that fits.  Many survivors—survivors of war, natural disasters, acts of terror, feel guilt about having survived.  Even long before the doctors pronounced me cancer free, I felt this guilt.  Throughout all of my chemo treatments, I was not nauseated.  Not a single time.  I had no sores in my mouth, my fingernails were in good shape, my fatigue never reached the level of debilitating (though I’m sure the napping helped).  Frankly, for the most part, I felt great.  And at the same time, I felt horribly.  Horribly for the women who were nauseated, completely worn down, couldn’t eat.  I wanted to have a great attitude all the time, but sometimes I felt bad just for being able to have such a great attitude.  Never was that guilt more acute than when I sat, wig-clad, at my good friend’s funeral.  It’s not fair that she has to be labeled “breast cancer victim” while I get to wear the badge “survivor.”  She was a strong, healthy, Godly woman.  I’m not better than her.  I just have a different story.

You won’t see a big pink ribbon magnet on the back of my car or anywhere on this site. (Though my daughter does love them, bless her heart.) At least not now. It has nothing to do with wanting to hide the fact that I’ve had breast cancer.  You won’t hurt my feelings by calling me a survivor, but that’s just not how I want to think of myself.  I prefer you think of me as a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend.  Think of me as a researcher, an advocate.  We’ve all survived something tough.  We’re all survivors.

Not Your Normal Christmas Card Photo

We have some really lovely family photos that Sally took of us a month or so ago.  Obviously, I want to use one of those for our family Christmas card.  But when we found out that I had breast cancer, Clay and I decided together that we were going to own this.  I don’t intend to let cancer take over my life, my every conversation.  But I’m also not going to pretend that it doesn’t exist.  I can be strong and beautiful and have cancer.  It seemed almost a little fake to send everyone a card in December, knowing that all the lovely hair in that picture is now gone.  So I had Sally bring her camera along to lunch after church today, and she snapped this one quickly.  I’m not really one for the long Christmas letter, but I know that there are some people who don’t hear from us much the rest of the year.  So this picture will go on the back of our card along with the address of my Helping Hands site.  Anyone who doesn’t already know can check it out if they’re interested.  But even if they don’t follow along with my posts there, I think this picture really is worth a thousand words.  I may have cancer, but cancer doesn’t have me.

Laundry Doesn’t Stop For Cancer

I met a new friend a couple of weeks ago, a friend of a friend, who has just finished her battery of treatments for breast cancer. I enjoyed talking with her, she gave me some tips and even a few hats! She's a writer and commented that if she were to write a book about her experience, it would be entitled Laundry Doesn't Stop for Cancer. Not that I've been doing nothing but laundry for the last week, but it's been a "normal" week. And being a mom doesn't stop just because I have cancer. So I've been keeping busy with normal mom things, and am thrilled that I've been able.

I'm still holding my afternoons sacred for naps, but have managed to last this long and still have no nausea, so we've been able to reduce my steroids (which help control nausea) in the hopes that I'll sleep better-- they make me pretty wired!
With the holidays coming, there are plenty of "normal events" to keep me busy: concerts, parties, dinners. As long as I can, I'll keep napping my afternoons away so that I can keep up with my family during this busy time of year. And so I can keep up with all this laundry.

Chemo #3: Cryotherapy by Slurpee

My third trip to chemo took me back to one of the common rooms.  There are three, and it’s pretty easy to tell which is the sad, quiet room.  Obviously I don’t choose that one!  There was another woman in this room who I’d met the first day, and so it was fun chatting with her again. In this photo, you can see my slurpee.  During my first trip to chemo, my nurse told me that I should suck on ice or keep something cold during part of my infusion.  Adriamycin is a particularly nasty drug, instead of letting it drip in over time, she would “push” it directly into the line into my port.  It takes about ten minutes for her to slowly inject it into my line.  Studies have shown that cryotherapy—bathing the mouth in ice—will help prevent mouth sores that are a common side effect from chemo.  So after I put on some lipstick (Dubonnet again!), we head to 7-11 to pick up a big slurpee.  I stash it in a little cooler so that it’s cold and icy when we get to the Adriamycin push.  I love a good slurpee, but by the time she’s finished, I’m usually freezing and sick of my beloved coke slurpee.

So Very Thankful

I am thankful for so much this year. It would be easy to complain about the interruption in my life-- the time and energy that I'm losing to cancer. But it's just an interruption, and complaining would only use up more time and energy.

Strangely, I'm oh so thankful for a cyst. Over and over again, doctors have told me how shocked they are that I presented with a cyst and was diagnosed with cancer. But the wonderful thing about the cyst is that it got big quickly and got me to a surgeon right away-- nearly five years before I would have had a normal mammogram. The crazy formation of the cyst allowed me to be diagnosed while the cancer is still very treatable. I'm thankful for a surgeon who wanted to aspirate that cyst even though many doctors wouldn't have encouraged me to do so. I'm thankful for a team of doctors who have coordinated all kinds of appointments and tests for me, just telling me when and where to show up, and for the fact that they have personally ensured that everything is scheduled in a timely manner.

I'm thankful that both kids are in school now and I'm able to stay at home, managing all the appointments and chemo is so much easier when I can schedule everything and rest while they're at school so that I can be "on" when they are home. And I'm so grateful for a super huge bus stop-- it's a whole community where the kids play for an hour after school most days, even on holidays and weekends. I always know that someone (usually several someones!) will look out for my kids if I can't make it. I've made some great friends there and it's so wonderful to live in a community where you run into friends all the time.

I'm thankful for an army of friends, relatives, and friends of friends who pray for me, encourage me, and take care of me and my family. Even though I've felt relatively well so far, I lose a lot of hours each day to napping and appointments, so not having to worry about cooking dinner every night is such a weight off my mind. I'm collecting a whole big box of the kindest cards and notes, I wish I could thank everyone personally, but there are far too many. It's so touching how many think of me and take the time to write me.

Of course, I'm thankful for my dear friend Sally. She's blessed my family with the most special photos of us all together, and I know so many appreciate the photos she's taking of me to share along the way. She's made time to come along with me to appointments, chemo, wig shopping, and when I had my head shaved. She's got her own family to take care of, yet she makes sure that I don't walk a step alone. We have a lot of fun, honestly, but every once in a while shake our heads that this is how we now fill our mornings out. And yet, I'm sure it never crosses her mind not to tag along. My parents and brother check on me all the time and I know think of me even more. I'm sure hardest of all, they're letting me have some independence to try to keep things normal for my family. I couldn't be more thankful for two kids than I am for Emma Clare and Turner. They play together so well-- I'm sure they argue and occasionally there are tears, but for the most part, if we're home, they find something to do together and I have to ask them to come hang out with me! They're great at letting me nap, they'll watch TV or play together quietly enough for me to sleep for a couple of hours, even if Clay is at work. They love me so much, and have dealt with everything from missed field trips to my bald head with such graciousness. And I'm so thankful for Clay. He takes care of me when I need it, lets me be normal when I can, and tells me I'm beautiful (and means it!) even now that I have no hair.
God continues to make my body strong. Every day I am thankful for the strength I have. I am overwhelmed with gratitude, knowing that even in a difficult situation, I couldn't ask for more.

Not bad, eh?

And here is the “after,” the wig after a little breaking in and with no extra hair underneath. It really looks so much like my real hair.  But, it feels like a step or two above American Girl doll hair.  I’m a fiddler—I’ve always played with my hair, tucking it behind my ears, pulling it up off my neck…  This is going to take some getting used to; long, curly, synthetic hair is not for a fiddler.  I’ll never be able to run my fingers through this “hair,” so I need to learn to leave it alone.  I’m ok with the scarf look, though, and I’m so glad the kids are, too.  Putting on all this hair feels a little like playing dress up to me—it feels too fake.  And somehow it makes me feel stronger to go out sans hair.  So I’m betting this lovely wig may not get a lot of wear…  And that’s ok.

Race Report

What a great day—today’s race will definitely go down as one of my favorite runs ever.  We arrived early enough that Emma Clare could decorate my head before we joined the rest of the girls from Tuckahoe.  We sat in the comfort of our warm car and she busted out the washable markers and emblazoned my head with the Girls on the Run logo. 

We had fun with friends before the race.  It was a cool morning to stand around, but perfect weather for running.  We had a good race—we ran the whole time and I only had to slow her down a couple of times. Better yet, we finished strong and could have run another mile!  We both worked hard and I couldn’t be prouder.

The Final Cut

Enjoying my coffee with Sally and Crystal on Wednesday, I ran my fingers through my hair like I always do.  Only this time, I usually came out with a strand or two of hair. Thursday, it was several hairs at a time. I called to see when Dragan could squeeze me in to shave my head. Actually, I put off calling him for a couple of hours, I wasn't ready. But he could put me before his first appointment on this morning, which would be good for Sally to meet me and the kids wouldn't miss much school. I took the appointment, though still wasn't sure that I was ready. But this morning, I was ready. Just washing my hair and attempting to blow it dry to go have it cut left far more hair on the brush and the floor than I wanted to deal with. That's just what I needed to see, it was time.

Dragan braided it and cut off the braid so that I can donate it.  The kids did great, they'd wanted to come along.  We had fun and not a tear was shed. Though, as Dragan prepared to start shaving, my compassionate little guy came over to love on me just in case I needed it.

Part of what made the day a success was the markers.  Thanks to Ashley's video, I thought to take along some washable markers for them to use to decorate my newly bald head.  It gave them something to look forward to and they loved it!

I thought I'd be at least a little upset over the loss of my hair.  But really, I'm ok with it.  So far, I've gone out in my wig, a scarf, and even bared my bald head a little. I was completely ok with it, and so were the kids. They love to massage and pet my bald head! I was worried about their reaction, and couldn't have been more pleased with how they're doing. I knew that being without hair, makeup was going to be more important than ever to me.  I’m so glad I took the time to do a good job, it really does feel like it made a difference.  Since lots of people on facebook asked, this is my current favorite, Dubonnet by MAC.  Seeing these pictures, I think a strong, bold lip will be important in the upcoming months, and I’m betting this lipstick will get a lot of use.

It shouldn’t go without saying that these images are so special to me.  I worried seeing my hair fall to the floor might be hard. Mostly, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to hold it together if the kids fell to pieces.  Watching Ashley’s video gave me confidence that we would do fine, and it made me realize that I wanted those special images of my own.  I’m so grateful that Sally came along and captured this fun morning for us.  I feel truly blessed to call this talented woman my friend.

I Am Beautiful

I read a very compelling blog post today (thanks to Stephanie for sharing it with me!) by a woman who was determined to tell her daughters that she thinks she is beautiful. Having grown up with friends who struggled with eating disorders, I've always been very careful to make sure that Emma Clare knows that her value as a person is not linked to her beauty. But she is beautiful, and I tell her that often. The article questioned how we can expect our little girls to still think of themselves as beautiful young women when they remember their mothers constantly putting themselves down.

And so as I run my fingers through my hair and find each time that a few strands remain in my hand, I see cancer threatening my ability to tell Emma Clare I am beautiful.  It will take my hair, it will leave me scarred.  And yet I am determined that the author of this post was right.  I am beautiful, and I will stay that way.  Emma Clare will believe it, and if I say it enough, I will too.

The Best of Friends

Sally is a dear, sweet friend.  I have a feeling that in the coming months, I’m going to learn even more about what it means to be a good friend by seeing all that she does for me.  There are a few perks to having that dear, sweet friend also be a professional photographer.  For one, I have some super fabulous family pictures! Another perk: meeting more photographers!  Today we met up with Crystal of Lily B Photogrpahy, who took this lovely picture of the two of us.  We had a great morning corralling kiddos and taking pictures, followed by yummy coffee at a favorite coffee shop.  I really love this image Crystal captured of me by myself.

But the funny thing is I was really just posing to goof off a bit, Sally wanted to capture this image of her own:

Yes, Crystal took our pictures that close to a busy road while her infant hung out (pun intended!) in her Ergo carrier.  Because that, my friends, is how we roll.

Awaiting the Next Round

I had a good visit at the oncologist's office today. They did my bloodwork and all my counts are in the normal range, so I'm good to go for chemo on Thursday. We talked about how my last round went, I was eager to hear her opinion on whether my reaction to chemo was likely to change. She said that some of the fatigue may increase throughout the process, but the fact that I didn't have any nausea and little bone pain was encouraging. She said it looks like I may not struggle with those side effects.

I feel so fortunate that my body is handling this so well. I'm also very thankful that I have the opportunity to take a good nap every day, I've no doubt that is making a big difference in how I feel. I realize how I feel could change any day, but somehow, every day that I feel well is such a pleasant surprise, a true gift.

I continue to pray that my body will be strong. But do you every pray for something that you know is kind of silly-- not really important in the big picture, but it matters to you? This week, I'm praying extra hard that I'll be able to run this Sunday in the Girls on the Run 5K with Emma Clare. (I should be able to-- I've been running since starting chemo, so I'm ready!) We have been talking about it for a long time, and she understands that I might have to go slow or walk. She's been dealing with my cancer diagnosis much better lately, but last week one night, she came downstairs after she'd headed up to bed, crying. She was worried about me. It broke my heart. We talked for a while, and I did my best to reassure her. After she was all calmed down and I was about to send her back to bed, she said, "I'm so glad you're going to be able to run with me." It's kind of a big deal to me, but that's mostly because I know it's a big deal to her. So if you're looking for something to pray for this week, I'm praying that I'll be in great shape to run with her on Sunday.

A New Schedule

There's not been much new to report in the past few days. I'm still feeling pretty well and certainly am not going to complain about anything. I did miss my afternoon nap one day, and I was pretty worn out, but that's so much less bad than I'd expected. I also figured out after eating a bunch of fruit last night that my mouth might be getting a little sensitive, so I'm laying off things with too much acid for the time being. After that incident last night, all I could think about was how much I wanted a milkshake, so I stopped and got one today at Chick-fil-A-- they make really good milkshakes! I made Sally taste it several times and she said she thought it might be a little "off." I think my tastebuds might be starting to be affected though, it seemed a LOT off to me. At least I won't end up gaining a ton of weight from all the milkshakes!

I was next door to the Chick-fil-A because I was picking up my wig. It still needs some breaking in, and it's hard to really tell how it's going to look since I have so much hair for it to cover right now. But I think it looks a lot like my real hair, so I was pleased about that.

This week was nothing like I'd feared, and so I'm eager to go to my appointments next week to find out if the week is an accurate representation of what chemo will continue to be like. I'm definitely back to the schedule one keeps with a new baby-- do what you can in the morning because that afternoon nap is essential-- but that feels like something I can handle. And I know that it might continue to get harder, but I'm so thankful for the unexpected gift of an extra good week.

My Prayer

I've said it before, but it really is overwhelming knowing so many are praying for me. I have to say, though, I've struggled at how to really pray for myself. I took solace in the passage from the Bible that talks about how the Holy Spirit prays on our behalf when we don't know the words.

But on my run Sunday morning, I had time to really be by myself and think. I needed to know what to pray. And it occurred to me that God made my body, and he knew what it would need to go through. I have this cancer, and I have to go through the treatment. That will not change. So my prayer is that God will make my body strong. Strong enough to withstand these treatments with good health and a good attitude.

And so I've decided not to worry so much about the fact that I still feel pretty well. It seems wrong to be almost done with the second "bad" day still feeling ok. I'm going to enjoy my good days, knowing that the chemo is doing its job, and that God is making my body strong to withstand it longer than anyone expects.

Another Day

At this point, I'm taking things one day at a time, trying to make the most of the time I'm feeling well. And I got a special gift yesterday-- an extra "good" day! My doctor had told me to expect that I'd start feeling a little rotten on day 5, so all day yesterday, I was waiting for it. And nothing! Today I got up and made us pancakes for breakfast, did a little sewing, and we walked down to the post office to mail a special package. Since it's election day, the kids are off school, but they're so good playing with each other and I'm feeling so well I cancelled the playdate I'd arranged and we're hanging out at home. I'm going to take a nap in a bit, but am thankful for a nice sunny, productive morning.

And so I'm halfway through my second gift in a row. Another beautiful, unexpected, good day!

Me and Lance.

So it turns out that I now have a couple of things in common with famous, or should I say notorious, athlete, Lance Armstrong. Cancer diagnosis as a young adult and a love of performance enhancing drugs.

I'm a little bummed, today is my first day without steroids. Yes, there are side effects that make it undesirable to take them long term. But this weekend, even after getting all those nasty chemo meds, I felt good-- great, even. Yesterday I rocked out my 5k-- well, I ran the whole thing, at least. I feel pretty sure that I'll make it to the Girls on the Run race in two weeks, but I don't think I'll earn any first place prize that will have to be stripped from me later. And the steroids cause me to be a little flush, like I've been in the sun or just finished a good workout, which Sally said was perfect for family photos yesterday. I'll share a few of those here later on, they turned out great!

So today I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm running a couple of quick errands this morning and then I'll be ready to hibernate for a few days if I need to.