Happy birthday to me

Last week was my birthday (groans and moans). I had no big plans on the calendar. It was on Wednesday, Oct. 9th. Middle of the usual busy school week. Certainly not a birthday that required celebrating, like we did last June when my husband turned 50. I think I wanted to throw him a big party to get it out of my system. Because when I turn 50, I'd like it to be on the down low.

I did, however, expect to be a bit reflective as I began the last year of my 40s. Not sure how that happened. I could swear that just last month I finished college. Well, I did, indeed, turn 49 with little to no fanfare, which was fine. And as much as I somewhat dreaded heading into that last year of a decade, I must admit as a two-time cancer survivor, it is better than the alternative, not being here to celebrate another birthday. But I was not in the mood to be gracious or grateful.

My week turned out differently than expected. I spent the week in full-on mom mode. Thanks to some unknown version of poison ivy, oak or whatever, my 7-year-old, Noah, was miserable the entire week (my poor husband, as well). I kept him home from school for the first two days of the week. I let him go to school on Wednesday, but had to pick him up after only a couple of hours. Took him to the doctor, where they prescribed a steroid. Let him go to school on Thursday, though I went to the school to put cream on his limbs and give him Benadryl. Did the same on Friday, but he couldn't make it through the day and I picked him up early yet again.

The week flew by as I monitored his every move to be sure he wasn't scratching and causing any areas to open for a possible infection and scarring, keeping hydrocortisone cream on his limbs and Benadryl every four hours seemed to be the combination that worked best for him. And then I thought it was spreading on Friday and Saturday, which now I think was more that it was still coming out from its original exposure. Finally...finally, it seems to be on the mend.

So when someone recently asked how I spent my birthday, I shared details of my week taken over by poison something or other in a way similar to the foreign vine that was overtaking a large pine tree next to our driveway. It was a Jack and the Beanstalk kind of vine and it was the culprit of Noah's misery. It was the Saturday project that took over our entire week, including my birthday.

But at the end of the week, I think it's fair to say that I spent my birthday doing what I love to do, being a mom and making things better for my boys whatever it takes. And last week that meant keeping him home from school, putting cream on every two hours, pouring Benadryl every four hours, running over to school to put more cream on and give more Benadryl, running over to school to pick him up on days when he just couldn't make it through the day, catching up on schoolwork that he missed, keeping him in clothes that were both soft and comfy but would not allow him to scratch, sitting at the doctor's office waiting patiently for the doctor, coaxing Noah into taking the awful tasting steroid medication twice a day and constantly reminding him not to scratch.

It wasn't how I planned to spend my birthday week, but I know I was doing what was most important to me. So my birthday came and went and that's just what I wanted. I did enjoy a phone call from a girlfriend who assured me that 50 is the new 30 (she is six months younger than me). I like her way of thinking. I enjoyed my 30s.

Time flies...and life happens.

It's been a long time since I have posted. As we all know with the old cliché, time flies and life happens. The good and the bad. Cancer being the bad and children growing as the good. But it is time to slow down and put pen to paper where my life has been and I hope is going.

I have been reflective lately for many reasons. I watch my boys grow daily. It seems like yesterday, they were tiny and now my 12-year-old is as tall as me with a mouth full of braces and a load of homework. And my seven-year-old is developing a personality much larger than himself. My husband turned 50 this year and I am not far behind. How did that happen?

But I think this past weekend was my biggest reminder of how time flies and life changes. Three years ago, in early 2010, I was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. The entire year was a bit of a blur. And as I said last weekend to the doctor who gave me the dreaded news that I did, in fact, have breast cancer: "What a difference three years makes."

I saw her at our local Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. More than 17,000 people participated and more than $1 million is raised. She, too, is a survivor, diagnosed with early stage breast cancer just two weeks after I was diagnosed. She hugged me as we, along with hundreds of other survivors, assembled in the shape of a pink ribbon in the outfield of a minor league baseball field.

Three years ago, I wasn't physically well enough to participate, nor was I emotionally ready to be involved. But this year, I was honored at the race. Each year, our race is named "In Memory" of someone who has lost her valiant fight against breast cancer and "In Celebration" of a survivor who has made a difference in the fight against breast cancer. Nominated by a dear friend, I was selected to be the "In Celebration" honoree and extremely humbled to be selected and truly honored to be partnered with Komen, a leading force in the goal to eliminate breast cancer.

The year after I was treated, it was time to get involved and pay it forward. Time to do what I do well, raise money and awareness. It comes easy to me and I have done it in the past for the American Cancer Society, years ago when I was just a one-time survivor of osteosarcoma, a childhood bone cancer that resulted in the loss of my left leg and more than a year of chemotherapy. After more than 30 years as a survivor is when breast cancer came knocking.

I signed up to captain a team and along with one of my best friends, created a pink dessert fundraiser to raise additional funds for our team, along with other ways to raise additional funds. I am one of the top fundraisers for the race and volunteer to mentor other team captains each year.

The day of the raise is filled with joy and celebration with friends and strangers. I also find it to be a day to honor those who have come before me and not survived. They inspire me to work hard, to raise more money, to education more women. I feel a sense of responsibility. If one women gets a mammogram after hearing my story or I give hope to one women struggling with her diagnosis, it is worth it.

So I soaked it all in last weekend....standing before hundreds of survivors as they listened to my story, leading the survivor parade to the main stage to be recognized before the race began....with my husband and children beside me. I will continue to work until we live in a cancer-free world. And I am blessed beyond words. I just received good news after my usual 6-month check-up and scans that I continue to be cancer-free. 

What a difference three short years makes as time continues to fly and life happens.

Race for the Cure 2013: In Celebration of Kelli Andres

What a great night we had celebrating St. Patrick's Day this year! So many friends enjoying food and fun with us. It was on the heels of receiving wonderful news of a clear PET scan and being cancer free two years after my diagnosis! So I looked around the room and appreciated everyone in our home that evening. The pictures you see don't tell the whole story. So I will share some insight with you. Not everyone at the party is pictured, but they are all certainly in my heart.

 Me on the left, Lisa, Stacey and my sister, Janet. These girls kept my family fed for months with yummy meals and always made time to visit and keep me laughing!! And my sister, Janet, there are no words to describe how helpful she was. She was my guardian angel, my best friend, a surrograte mom to my boys, and Hazel the housekeeper (our little joke).

 Dan and Lisa...dear long-time friends. Lisa sent me cards constantly that would make all of us laugh and let me know that she was thinking of me. That's my wonderful husband, Van, on the right. Every women fighting breast cancer should be blessed with a husband like mine.

Liz, Julie, Chrys and me. So much fun. Liz was (and still is) always just an email away and kept my spirits up at all times. She was the best chemo buddy and my biggest cheerleader and sidekick when it came to Race for the Cure activities. Julie and Chrys are fellow moms at my kids' school, two kind souls that stayed in touch and supported me then and still do. My dad is still talking about a meal Chrys made more than a year ago and how yummy it was!

Lisa and Linda, one look at these twins and the smiles say it all. They are snuggled up with my little Noah. These girls are a tag team of love and support. Meals, gifts, laughs...they spoiled me like a little kid. I adore them!  

 Pete, Mary, Shannon, Kristen and Brad. Great friends -- some newer friends and some friends for more than 20 years. They, too, fed us and made me smile whenever they visited. These girls are sweet, smart and sassy....all my favorite qualities in a girlfriend.

Keith, me, Pete and Sheri. Keith and Sheri are newer friends, but it often feels like we have been friends forever. They were so kind and kept us in their prayers at all times. It always meant so much. Keith sat at the hospital with Van last year while I was in surgery. It meant so much to us.

These friends cried for me when I was first diagnosed. They are friends who made us dinner for months while I was in treatment and would spend time visiting every time they delivered a meal. They are friends who sent emails and cards and texts just letting me know that they were thinking about me and praying for me. They were the support system that every cancer patient deserves. They are friends I will never take for granted. And I will strive to be the kind of friend that they have all been to me. When I look at these pictures, I don't see a silly St. Patrick's Day party. I see a group of kind, thoughtful, caring and supportive friends. My wish for anyone fighting cancer is to be blessed with a group of friends like this to help them during the difficut times and to celebrate with them during the happy times.

Last week was a big week for me. On Wednesday, I had a scheduled six-month PET scan, followed by a check-up with my oncologist on Thursday for results. Scan was clear and all is good. What a relief!! For the past month, the test was always on my mind. When I was busy, it was tucked away. But when I was not busy or I was alone, it was the big pink elephant following me everywhere. That elephant logged a lot of miles with me to the grocery store, doing laundry, running errands, and especially when I was adding anything to my calendar, as I was fully aware of what was before March 7 & 8, and what was after, and how that looming PET scan would affect my life and, more importantly, the lives of my family.

After we got the results and I had a little time to reflect, I thought about when I finished treatment as a child and how I handled the big milestone tests that determined if the chemo had worked its magic and I was still cancer free. I remember a sense of relief, but I don't remember anxiety prior to the tests. I wonder if I was just naive about it, assuming that the chemo worked and absolutely I would continue to be cancer free. But I don't think that's the only reason I was less anxious as a 13-year-old as I am this time around. The stakes are much higher now.

It is not just about me. I am a mother and a wife. I have two little boys who need their mom and a husband whom I promised to share my life with 21 years ago. I am keeping that promise! We still have a lot of married living to do. We have two boys to raise together, holidays to celebrate together, a home to maintain together. And this week, a St. Patrick's Day party to plan together. We are hosting a party next Saturday for about 35 friends. We love entertaining and we put this on the calendar about six weeks ago. I was skeptical to schedule it not knowing what my test results would show. But, in the end, I couldn't let a test determine how I was going to live my life. So, next Saturday, we will enjoy time with our friends, lots of silly decorations, good food and some Irish toasts! This week, the pink elephant that has been following me around for the past month has turned green, just in time for St. Patrick's Day!

And until next time, I leave you with this old Irish blessing:

May to road rise up to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

and rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Every Monday, I volunteer at the cancer center where I was treated. I know it sounds crazy, but I love that place. I love the people, I love the facility. And I love that I'm no longer in treatment. After a busy weekend of activities and chores, it's a great way to start my week. It grounds me and reminds me how far I've come. Yesterday was no different. Let's be honest, I am not curing cancer, but I enjoy talking to patients while I push around a library cart filled with books and magazines to offer them, all neatly organized by the women who set up the lending library.

With all the electronic gadgets available, and the fact that the center has WiFi, plus each patient bay has a flat screen tv, I don't get too many takers for my reading material. In fact, yesterday I had none. Not even the cute little man who sits with his wife weekly and is always is search of a crossword puzzle book on my cart. I think it must have been their week off.

But, it's okay. I don't take it personally. I enjoy the conversation with the patients and that's the real reason I'm there.( Don't tell anyone, but I am not much of a reader so I am no help when patients look for suggestions.) I see a couple of breast cancer patients regularly and spend more time with them answering questions and sharing my experiences. I don't think they realize that they inspire me more than I help them. I talked with one woman last week who was preparing for surgery as she nears the end of her treatment. She had an awful look on her face when I parked my cart nearby. So I asked her about it and it turns out she is worried about the drains after her mastectomy. I told her they are in for a short time and not near as gross as the book she was reading described them to be. I could see the relief on her face and I felt so much joy just from offering my little piece of information.

And it's not just the breast cancer patients. I am by nature a chatty, upbeat person and will talk to anyone with a pulse, but not until I've had some morning caffeine. Most people will have a spouse or chemo buddy along, and they may be watching tv, playing cards or just visiting over the yummy soup served daily by another volunteer named Bob. But I will always stop by, introduce myself and chat a little bit about anything. There are a few patients who come alone and I make extra time for them, like the sweet man who I know lives alone and his kids live out of state. He likes to talk about his cats and his former career as a veterinarian.

So as long as the patients are there, I will push that cart around every Monday, trying not to knock over any IV poll, and share my cancer story. I may show a photo or two of my boys. Sometimes we talk kids. Sometimes we talk pets, vacations, tight finances, where to get wigs and scarves, and, of course, cancer. We discuss big pending tests and countdown to the end of treatment. If I can offer a little hope with my story, then I have done my job, regardless if I have given out any books or magazines. And as I drive home, I am reminded each week of where I was two short years ago, and feel grateful for where I am today.

I am new to the blog world. I hope you will hang in there with me as I navigate this new way of communication. Because I am a recent breast cancer survivor, I will often post my thoughts and feelings on the topic and how it has changed my world. But, it's not the only thing I intend to write about....I love being a mom and I am a little crafty, when I'm not burning myself with my hot glue gun. So look for fun stuff on that topic too.

Today, I am still thinking about attending Rockets for the Cure last weekend. The University of Toledo, my alma mater, hosted the pink event. The women's basketball team dressed in pink at the Saturday MAC game, the crowd was a sea of pink and breast cancer awareness was the theme of the day. What a fun afternoon. We took our boys, plus a friend. Great attendance and with the generosity of the UT Lady Rockets, more than $18,000 was raised for Susan G. Komen for the Cure.

But what I was most inspired by was the breast cancer awareness message that was reaching multiple generations of women and girls. I saw fellow survivors and girls as young as preschool in pink. I cheered on the team thinking about those healthy girls running up and down the court, and I wondered how they would be affected by breast cancer in their lifetime. And I thought, too, about the cheerleaders and the dance team, all in their pink. My hope is that by the time all those girls reach an age of increased risk, breast cancer will not be an issue. I believe with all my heart that we will see a world without breast cancer. It's the mission of the Komen for the Cure, and I will continue to hope for the same.

I also watched the elementary-aged girls on the edge of the court waiting for autographs after the game and hoped that they would grow to never be affected by breast cancer. Wouldn't that be a wonderful thing?

But until we reach that day of a world without breast cancer, my biggest hope is that the fun pink events will educate women of all ages and remind them to get their mammograms and be tested regularly. The girls on the basketball team from both colleges...being educated early can only benefit them, even if it's not a priority in the their minds right now. Perhaps when they are in their 30s, they will remember the pink games and why they were important. Early detection saves lives.