it's only an intermission

I have to remind myself that a cancer diagnosis is merely an intermission on the to-do list. How long you choose is up to you and your doctors.

In a week or so, it will be two calendar months since my last surgery and almost 4 months since finishing chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Oh and 9 monhs since I taught my last class ... breaks over. I want to get back to what I like best, not what people tell me should be best.

This weeks goal, redefine/redetermine what makes Kelly tick and go for it!

As a side note, going back to an office job has allowed more freedom in the lives of my husband and myself, but, it doesn't feed my soul. From here it's about finding a balance. Maybe for me (right now) it is taking classes, not teaching, cutting back my hours behind the desk, and just feeling better about my place in the world.

46 and Counting

Yesterday was my 46th Birthday.

Happy Birthday to Me!
Happy Birthday to Me!
Happy Birthday to Meeeeee!
Happy Birthday to Me!

6 months ago, I was in between my first and second round of chemotherapy.
3 months ago, I had finished all my chemotherapy and radiation treatments.
1 month ago, the sutures had been removed from the surgery which removed the remains of the cancerous tumor.
Yesterday, we had nachos and a birthday cake pop.

Life being ordinary is pretty darn good.

Heels are a good thing ...

... Last week ended on a high note. High heels. I had told my Doctors during treatment that if it was a bad day, I was going to find a really high pair of heels to put on, then you have to concentrate on walking (landing on one's tush in heels, is just not an option).

About half-way through, Friday became a high-heels day. I had gone to an appointment (for a follow-up) and it was just stressful. I would just like to come away from an appointment without a request for more testing.

By the end of the afternoon, I was sitting with my latte and taking a few minutes to relax.

To cry or not to cry

Today I went and got a pedicure (the first since December 2010), and they knew I'd been sick. Apparently, one of their customers (who is a lady who would attend my Group Exercise classes), told them about my diagnosis. Hugs all around, questions, are you alright? You look good ...

But, I was asked something no one else has.

The question was "Did I cry alot?" No, in the very beginning I had a few minutes of "why me??? I've been doing everything 'right.' I don't smoke, I exercise ... " you get the picture.

So, yes, it did make me cry, but, only for a few minutes. Crying about it doesn't help, mindset does. I decided after taking my "why me" minutes to remind myself that there are people worse off than myself and if they can do it. So can I and it's going to be cake.

Guess what? It has been cake (alright, a few aches and pains, but, nothing compared to what other people have to go through).

My friend Sharons daughter Fiona, spent 4 years fighting her stage 4 diagnosis. She passed in April/May. Fiona is still my hero. Fiona apparently would ask about me and ask about how my husband was handling my diagnosis. He handled my diagnosis like anything else, research on what a synovial sarcoma is, research on treatments, asking questions and finally, shaving his head. 

Shaving his head made me cry.

Update - I now know why Fiona was so concerned about how my husband was behaving. Turns out her jack-ass of a hubby was having an affair while she was in and out of the hospital, in hospice and eventually married the wench (from what I understand, not too long after Fiona passed away). Apparently the new wife wants the kids to call her Mom. Rebekka says, you're not Mom. Good girl Rebekka.

Happy September

It's been a calendar month since my surgery and the arm seems to be healing well (except for what's appearing to be a touch of an infection, we knew this could happen). The bonus points are for my body didn't like a particular type of suture? Apparently it appeared as a black spot along the incision line and my Doctor removed it. I didn't.

On my last visit to the oncologist he wrote the order to have my port removed (that puppy was uncomfortable). So it was removed 1 week ago.

That's it for now. Feeling ucky, that's what happens when you take vicodin on an empty stomach (recycling!!!)