Marchy

March has always suffered from bipolar disorder around here. Unfortunately, this year, March has been depressed a lot. Manic party girl March only came out for a few days. Luckily, we were able to take advantage of that with a short hike.

The North facing slopes were convinced it was still winter, which led to a great deal of slipping, falling, and crying. 

The South facing slopes were under the impression that it was midsummer, causing the kids to shed their heavy layers and attempt to turn me into their pack mule. Lucky for me, I wasn't medically cleared to schlep a backpack. 

You wore it in, you can haul it out. 

We had a great time and it was so nice to get out in the fresh air. It's been a long and terrible winter and we needed a little fun. 

The next weekend there was more snow on the ground. Our friends hosted a night time egg hunt, which I think was only enhanced by the snow. 

Easter... in March. 

The depression continued when we got 14 inches of snow and 50 mph wind the next week. 

That led to my first snow day in the 4 years since I have returned to work and the first snow day the governor has granted in 7 years.

We could have spent the day cleaning, but we didn't. 

The girls wanted to make cupcakes and so that is what they did.  

They did them all by themselves. (With the exception of the frosting. I am not a chill enough mom to give my kids access to powdered sugar) They are supposed to be bunnies. I think they turned out very nicely. 

The lure of 14 inches of fresh snow drew them outside for hours...

and hours. I don't know how they can withstand the cold so long. It's probably because they don't know any better. 

Then we enjoyed a premature Easter. It was lovely nonetheless. 

For real, we have a candy problem. I can't resist Easter candy. Maybe next year I will get the kids crafts. Who am I kidding? I can't stand crafts. 

Besides, the excitement that candy elicits cannot be matched. 

Here is our Fancy Easter Dress Picture. 

Hey, I've got an idea. Lets load the kids up with sugar and then ask them to pose for a serious picture. We should caption it with something like "I'm so grateful for Easter and also that my family is better looking than yours". 

Why does this never work for us?

The kids insisted on yet another egg hunt. There was still a lot of snow in the yard so Chris and I didn't so much "hide" the eggs as "dump" the eggs. 

The kids complained that the eggs were too easy to find.

I complained that the it didn't keep the kids out of the kitchen for long enough while I was cooking dinner. 

Nonetheless, it was a lovely Easter and I was grateful to have the energy to enjoy it. 

Today March decided to go out with a bang and hit us with a little more snow. It was a wimpy storm that resulted in damp pavement and that's about it. Nevertheless school was cancelled. 

When school is cancelled, there are two camps: the working moms who can't go to work and probably burned their leave taking care of sick kids all winter, and the moms who are grateful to have a day when they don't have to change out of their yoga pants all day and want to spend more time with their kids. You can tell them apart on Facebook. The working moms post: "The snow isn't even sticking to the pavement! The school district is crazy!". The yoga pants moms post: "I am so grateful that my child doesn't have to risk their life in this 34° weather. The district made the right call. Stay safe and warm."

I am a part of the camp who has been burning my vacation leave lately so I can do things like get poison pumped into my body and have surgeries. That also means that Chris has been piling up vacation time since I can't go anywhere. Therefore, I am in the camp of ample husbandly vacation time. He was happy to use some of his leave to stay home with the kids today. And I drove (above) the speed limit on my way to work today and never once felt that my life was in danger. I was safe. And thanks to my heated car seat, I was warm. I also made it to work in record time because there were no school busses on the road. 

And now, I am declaring this the last 3''+ snow storm of the season. April better not pull this crap. Or else I'm going to move to one of those equatorial third world countries where the sun shines year round. As far as I'm concerned, the lack of modern medical treatments and plumbing will be a small price to pay.  

Enough

I thought I'd blog to give everyone an update on our not-so-thrilling lives. Also to document our latest chapter.

I finally healed up enough from chemo to have my "final" reconstructive surgery. (Final is in quotes because I'm not ruling out the possibility of needing revisions. This is not typical cosmetic surgery where the outcome is overwhelmingly positive.)

After an unexpected night in the hospital, I spent the last week in the company of my surgical drains, Zofran, and Downton Abbey. Despite the Zofran, I still had a rough week and couldn't attend Emily's parent night because the world was spinning. I've reached the conclusion that I do not react well to anesthesia. Unfortunately surgeons like to operate while the patient is unconscious.

I'm told Emily did well. Her project was on pioneers. She has been very into history this year and has loved learning about Wyoming. I am proud of her academic interest.

Yesterday we performed one of the rites of spring: the visit to see the chicks at Murdoch's. After a nice long walk, we made our annual pilgrimage. I think there are children who raise these animals for egg laying and consumption. These children have parents that are better than we are. Our children will never fully understand farm to table logic or the great circle of life. In other news, Emily is getting a hankering to fire up her aquarium again so she can kill another fish. I think we've talked her into a cactus instead. 

I took a picture today so that people can see that I'm still kicking. I hate the way I look. I've forgotten what my eyebrows are supposed to look like. I've been doing quite a bit of plucking, but it just feels like there are so many more of them than there were before. And while I hate the almost-long-enough-for-a-pixie look, I am ridiculously grateful to have hair. I hated wearing a head cover. And I hated wearing eye makeup. I'm glad that's done.

So I guess it's on to survival. I hope this is a long chapter. I am excited to put some distance between me and cancer. Some people get comfort and encouragement by identifying with the cancer. It works for them. They find peace in the pink ribbons. I don't. I don't need to be reminded of what I've been through.

I have finally been admitted into a circle of survivors that includes my amazing friends and family: Virginia, one of my biggest supporters, who left cancer behind and became a wife and mother. Carol, who survived breast cancer but succumbed to another cancer. I believe it was her who guided my hand to find my cancer that morning. Grandma, who survived for decades and was never shy about creeping me out with her breast prosthesis. Phyllis, who does everything with humor and style, including cancer. Pam, who reminds me that while it's okay to be afraid, it's not okay to let the fear run your life. Leanna, who gave me hope that I would find normal again and who gave me encouragement when my hair was just starting to sprout. Sandy, who has kept my mom calm while I underwent treatment. Kathy, whose spirit survives and who cheers for me from the other side. And all the other women who are part of the 1 in 8. While I love being part of this circle, I want to put the cancer itself behind me. I don't want to let it define me or my future. I miss my life and I'm going to fight like crazy to get back to it. For now, it is an uphill battle. I am afraid most of the time. Maybe in another year, I'll only be afraid half the time. Maybe in a decade, it will be a twinge of fear here and there. 

In the meantime, I am thankful for my husband and kids, for my friends and family, for my hair and eyebrows. It's enough for now. 

Chemo: The End

So I finished chemo on New Year's Eve. At the time I didn't know I had finished. I thought I had one left. But one of the side effects of the drug I was on is neuropathy. Last Sunday it was a struggle to get myself dressed, let alone do my girls' hair because my fingers were so numb.

My doctor said it was too risky for me to have my last treatment. She said I could loose feeling in my fingers permanently. Right now they are just numb at the tips and I have a good chance of getting full feeling back. She decided it was time to cut my losses and skip the last treatment.

The nurses gathered together and wished me well. They gave me a bottle of sparkling cider and told me to go celebrate. It was bittersweet to tell them goodbye. They've been a big part of my life.

We celebrated at Starbucks with the cookie and mint tea that Chris usually delivers to me during my treatment. 

I had very mixed feelings ending chemo. On the one hand, I was glad to be done. On the other hand, I hated not finishing. Being done with chemo feels weird. I have been fighting for 7 months. The fight is over now. I am afraid to end the fight. I've never been one to sit tight and hope that nothing bad happens. That's precisely what I have to do now. There is a lot of fear associated with ending treatment.

There is also a lot of relief. Today was the first Saturday in months I was able to participate in life. I am still exhausted, but I'm not crashed like I normally am. It will be a long time before I am back to normal, whatever that is, but at least I'm on the up side of things now.

When I started Taxol, which comprised my last 12 treatments (or I guess it was only 11 with the skipped one), I started a countdown on the wall of my cubicle. I took a selfie every week as I took down a number... at least after the first one. Anyway, here's my countdown. I got a little sicker every week. Now I get to do that process in reverse.

It's hard to look at those pictures. And not just because I suck at taking selfies. I don't want to remember how sick I was, and still am. But I need to remember because I need to appreciate health when it returns. 

I've been getting a lot of questions about what comes next. I can't have hormonal therapies (tamoxofin or herceptin) because my cancer was triple negative. I won't have scans unless my doctor feels the need to investigate something. I will get blood tests every few months to monitor tumor markers and liver and kidney health. I also will have a surgery in a couple months to finalize my reconstruction. 

I am told that my immune system will be back in a couple of weeks. I am told that my anemia will be gone in a couple of months. I am told that my hair will be long enough in 6 months that I won't even look like a cancer patient anymore. I am told the fear gets less as time goes on, but it never goes away. 

My oncologist says my job is to life my life now. It won't be easy, but I am going to try. 

Christmas 2015

Last Christmas Jane had the flu. Her fever got so high she was delirious. We kept saying that next Christmas would be better. Well, it rolled around and here I was... at the end of chemo. I'm not going to speculate about next Christmas. But all in all this Christmas wasn't bad.

I had treatment on Christmas eve, so I crashed on Christmas day, but there we managed to have a decent Christmas after all. 

We had Christmas eve pajamas

and Daddy reading the Christmas story from the bible

and going to see lights

Just looking at this house makes me tired, thinking of all the work that went into it. 

The loot had been prepared well in advance, so we just had to schlep it up from the basement.

And then the wonder of Christmas morning happened.

I even managed to make our traditional cinnamon rolls for breakfast. 

The kids got Kindle Fires. I have been holding out for a very long time on tablets for the kids. Chris convinced me that the Fires could be locked down sufficiently to be safe for the kids. We also locked them down so that they are primarily used for reading. You'll thank us someday, kids. When your classmate's brains are rotted from too many games and movies on their tablets. You're welcome. 

Fifteen

Today is my fifteenth anniversary. A decade and a half ago, we were two college kids that made promises that we may not have understood fully at the time, but which we were determined to keep. We have seen a lot through the years. As much as this year has sucked, we've been through worse and we will continue to go through this together.

I wanted to take some time to thank Chris for all he's been through with me for the last year. The day I found my cancer, he accompanied me to the doctor's office because he knew I was scared. The next week he held my hand as they did the biopsy. He was there at the surgeon's office as I cried when I was told a mastectomy was my best option. He wept with me that day as I learned I would have to have chemotherapy. He called and nagged the surgeon's offices when I was having a hard time getting a surgery date set. He gave me a blessing the night before surgery that everything would be okay. He waited for 9 hours during my surgery, never leaving the hospital just in case something happened. He rejoiced with me when we got the news my nodes were clear. He took care of me for 2 weeks following surgery, even after he caught pneumonia. He washed my hair when I couldn't raise my arms. He walked with me so my muscles wouldn't atrophy. He has gone to every chemo appointment with me. When my hair started to fall out, he shaved my head. He has taken care of the kids as I've been sick and tired. He singlehandedly purchased, delivered and installed a new washing machine when ours broke on the same weekend as my 4th and worst round of chemo. He gets me mint tea and cookies to me when I go to infusion because infusion is long and cold. He tells me that the peach fuzz on my head "definitely looks darker" and "for sure is longer" than last week. Now he is supporting me as I am skidding, dragging and crying toward the finish line of chemo. I love him and I know that he loves me. Someone who didn't would have checked out of this circus a long time ago.

This is our latest picture together. At the chemo "spa" last summer. Maybe it's time I started letting my picture be taken. Maybe after a few more eyelashes grow in.

Anyway, happy anniversary, Chris! I love you. Thank you for everything. 

Turkey, Trees, and Cousins

Since I last blogged Thanksgiving has happened. My family came to town and we had lots of fun. The girls love spending time with their cousins.

We actually decorated a Christmas tree. I am particularly proud of this accomplishment this year. 

Today we were able to attend Mila's presentation in Denver. Mila is the daughter of Brian, Chris' brother, and Virginia, his wife. She is adorable and happy. The presentation ceremony was beautiful and Emily and Jane cannot get enough of their baby cousin. 

Here is the lovely little family along with the Godparents. Virginia has been one of my guiding lights through surgery and chemo. I can't express what it means to me to see her 8 years from her diagnosis, with a sweet baby who looks so much like my own little girls. 

We traveled to Denver the night before because I have treatment every Thursday. Typically, I crash on Friday evenings and stay crashed all day Saturday. That means Chris was a hero on this trip, getting the kids out the door, dealing with complaints and cleaning up vomit that went down right as we got to Denver. I don't know how I would do it without him.

So speaking of which, here is my obligatory update: I have 5 chemo treatments left. It will probably take more than 5 weeks to finish up, though, because I will probably have to push at least one treatment back on account of the nerve damage that is occurring as a side effect of this drug. Other than that, I am tired. I am overwhelmed.

I am overwhelmed by the amount of work I have to do in every aspect of my life on what little energy I have. But more than that I am overwhelmed by the friends who know exactly what I need and when to take over for me. By my counselors and secretary who frequently don't wait for an assignment before filling a need in the Primary. I love these ladies. By my friends who know I would rather collapse than ask for help. So they do things unbidden and unnamed. Such as decorate my porch. Every month. I have no idea who does it, but I love them.

Mostly I'm overwhelmed by my husband who attends every infusion with me and provides me with mint tea and figures out how to get around the blocks on Netflix and Hulu that the hospital has put on their wifi. And who helps out with science projects and who cleans up puke. And who tells me I am beautiful when I am not. Someday I will make it up to him. With a really ridiculous car that is totally age inappropriate. Because he's earned it.