Frozen

If you live in Chicago during January, you are well versed in the concept of frozen.  The wind chill was -26 when I left the house Monday morning.  It literally took 10 hours and and change of socks to get my feet to warm up.

Today is the anniversary (31 years) of the coldest day in history in Chicago...the TEMPERATURE was -26...the wind chill, real feel, call it what you want was somewhere in the -70's or some such nonsense.  It was freaking COLD.  I was out in it as the stupid 17 year old that I was...oh wait, I was out with my parents and some other parental supervision, watching of all things a hockey game.  It was so cold you left your car running  in the parking lot to make sure the engine didn't freeze and leave you stranded.  When the players stepped outside after showering in the locker room, their hair froze.  Yes, contact lenses can freeze while in your eyes..been there done that.

Frozen is also a delightful (if not overplayed) Disney movie.  I am guessing that anyone who reads this knows who Elsa, Anna and Olaf are and know every word of the movie's anthem, "Let it Go".  You're welcome for the earworm.

Today is the one year anniversary of having my port installed for chemo.  I remember kind of being frozen in the days after my diagnosis.  Not in the sense of not being able to move but watch a body of water when it is starting to freeze...think Lake Michigan.  I was at the lakefront the other day and the lake is not frozen as it has been the last couple of winters but it was thicker than normal, and moving slowly, sluggishly.  Think of a Slushie from 7-Eleven.  That was me a year ago...sluggishly moving from one appointment to another, being poked, prodded, medicated, terrified of the unknown and EVERYTHING at that point was unknown.

Every so often the scars from my port zap me.  I am sure it is mostly psychological but the little twinges of pain are real.  I look at them as reminders of where I have been AND where I am going.  A little kick to the irrational fears of a relapse, a little poke to keep moving forward.  Keep working, keep fighting, keep standing tall, keep heading out into the cold of another January in Chicago.

"Let It Go" has it right...in spite of my grousing and grumbling, the cold really doesn't bother me...unless Jack Frost is trying to sucker punch me and tear my ears off at the same time!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moSFlvxnbgk

January

So another January begins.  January is not my favorite month.  Sure, I like the clean slate feel of New Years...getting back to good eating habits and getting the Christmas decorations put away for another year. My birthday is in January, but let's face it...January in Chicago can be brutal from a weather perspective.  Google "polar vortex" if you don't believe me.

This January I am a little edgy.  I don't mean trendy.  I am closing in on the anniversary of my diagnosis.  Every ache and pain I get sends me into a fit of nervousness thinking the lymphoma has returned.  I have been intensifying my workouts so aches and pains are not unusual.  I feel fantastic.  It doesn't stop me from worrying about every twinge.  *sigh*

I flash back now and again to how I felt a year ago...it wasn't pretty.

I am trying not to be in a constant state of panic.  This is normal right?  This will go away the longer I  stay healthy, right?  I'm not crazy, right?  Well...

My birthday is Tuesday...last year I barely had the energy to go to work and I slept on the couch until Chris got home from work.

Saturday is my diagnosis anniversary.  The 27th is the anniversary of my first treatment and Mom's birthday.

January is dark.  And cold.  Sometimes it's snowy.  Google "the Blizzard of '79".  I remember an ice storm on my birthday several years ago...we ordered pizza.  I tipped the delivery guy almost as much as the pizza cost because he got the pie up the front steps in one piece!  January is LONG.  It can be grueling.

No one will be happier than me when January is over!

A New Year

When you've had cancer, everything is new.

I have a new 'do.

I have new found strength and a new appreciation for my health.

It was right around this time last year that I started to feel lousy and progressively worse on a daily basis.  Each day I wake up with a memory of how I felt a year ago.  I wonder how I functioned as a wife, stepmom, inventory planner, auntie, friend, daughter, sister, niece....

Was it my back?  My gall bladder?  Nope...it was my blood.

I am looking forward to 2016.

My birthday is in 2 weeks.  I got my diagnosis 4 days after my birthday last year.  I wasn't eating much so I didn't enjoy my birthday dinner with Chris.

I am getting a do-over on my trip to Daytona in February.

I am going to Disney in May with my niece and nephew.  I can't wait to show them the magic of Disney.

A new year holds so much promise, so much hope.  For me everything stopped on 1/16/15 until I got a grip on my treatment.  For several days I lived in the twilight zone.

I have mentioned this before...I am lucky and grateful.  I am going to celebrate this New Year like never before.  Every day is important to me now.  I have a new appreciation for everything in my life

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne my dear for auld lang syne
We'll take a cup of kindness yet and days of auld lang syne.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmVXYOJzAJM&list=RDcmVXYOJzAJM

What a Differrence a Year Makes

It was just about a year ago that my health started going to hell in a hand basket.

Every morning when my alarm goes off I expect to not feel rested, to feel the pain in my back that didn't go away for so long.  Then I smile to myself when I don't.

I look in the mirror as I wash my face and marvel at the normal color of my skin and the fact that I don't have black circles under my eyes.

When I apply makeup it looks good.

When I go to bed after a long day, I go to sleep and it is restful.  Occasionally neuropathy in my hands wakes me out of sound sleep but in a matter of minutes I am back to sleep with no problem.

My appetite is good and I can eat pretty much anything and not feel icky.  A year ago, just about EVERYTHING I ate made me feel icky.

I am not going to lie; aches and pains scare the hell out of me; especially new ones.  Hopefully that will go away with time.  I am looking forward to Christmas even though I am a little overwhelmed with everything that needs to happen in the next 11 days.  One big difference though is that I feel like I can handle it.  A year ago, it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other.  And if everything doesn't happen, that's OK too.

I approach 2016 with hope, health, happiness, a profound sense of gratitude and the need to enjoy everything I took for granted.  I also spend more time looking for the good in every person and situation.

Life is good; it's also maddening, scary sometimes, hard, dark, busy, and ever changing.  Buckle up, it's worth the ride!!

December Check Up

I had an appt with my oncologist today. 

It's funny how I can feel perfectly fine and yet walking into the office, I immediately felt a bit of anxiety.  I felt the blood pressure increase ever so slightly.  The irrational brain was working overtime.

The people at the office are all wonderful, kind, sweet, reassuring, I could go on and on.

I sat for a bit in the waiting room.  Patients currently receiving chemo get called first for morning appointments.

I got called for my blood test; the vein in my left arm was less cooperative than usual today.

Back to the waiting room.

It didn't help that the TV in the waiting room was tuned to the TODAY show and the hosts were discussing yesterday's mass shooting in California.  My blood boils when I think of how easy it is to get a gun in the US.  It is ridiculous really.

I got called for my vitals check...BP--perfect, temp 98 degrees; I have never once been 98.6, weight--higher than I'd like, perfect for "fighting weight".

Then I was escorted to an exam room.  Alone with my thoughts I sat for about a half hour.  A half hour alone with my thoughts is rarely a good thing.  I am not sure if this is by design or not but my oncologist's office is on the ground floor of the hospital and reception on my cell is almost non existent.  I didn't even have Lexelous to occupy my mind. 

I could hear Dr. K in the hall taking calls and dictating notes on a previous patient.

Then it was my turn.

"Perfect" blood work.

I knew it.  I feel fine.  People say I look good.  My skin tone is a healthy color.  I've said it before; grey is great for a cardigan, it's not a good skin tone!

I need to go back in April with a PET scan ahead of the appt.  All is well, let the holiday celebrating begin!

Grateful

I have started this post several times.  I always think about what I am grateful for this time of year.  This year it seems that my list is longer than normal.  Aside from the usual...

I am grateful for my health, I will never take it for granted again.  I will also not whine about a sniffle or two.

I am grateful for my naturally curly hair, even if it has some grey at the moment.  These curls are something else.

I am grateful to have been bald; yes I said that.  Talk about learning, really learning what beauty is.  I always knew it was on the inside but spending some time without hair puts more meaning into it for me.

I am grateful beyond measure for my army of family and friends.  They picked me up and carried me when I didn't have the strength to do it myself.

I am grateful for my husband who spent many months of this year grieving for his best friend and still taking ridiculously good care of me.  I hope that I don't take you for granted and that in your brief moment of sickness this year, I did half the job that you did for me.

I am grateful for modern medicine.  Chemo is no picnic but it's so much better than it was in the past.

I am grateful for the beagle who took care of me when I was sick and was a typical beagle when I was on the road to recovery.  Yes, I can chase a beagle with a slipper two days after chemo.

I am grateful for children who see you for who you are whether bald or wearing your glasses or in sweats day after day and then tell you you're beautiful in their own way anyway.

I am grateful to be able to pay it forward and will do so forever.

I am grateful for my strength that increases daily.

I am grateful for the doctors and nurses that I saw and will continue to see as I go for scans and follow ups.  You do an incredible job and I am guessing do not hear that enough.

I am grateful for the American Cancer Society for small and large acts of kindness during my journey.

I am grateful for Relay for Life.

I am grateful for my growing ability to see the good in every person, every cloudy day, the beauty in EVERY moment because it's there even if it isn't obvious.

In a strange way, maybe I am grateful that I got cancer...in the sense that it was a reality check for me.  It reinforced what is really important in my life and what is NOT.  You really do need to deal with the dark to appreciate the light.

Live your life.  Love fiercely and obviously.  Enjoy every moment.  Look for the signs; they are there.  Show gratitude, it will come back to you tenfold.  Give hugs and kisses.  Do and say kind things.  Be generous of your time, gifts and yes, your money.  We're not promised tomorrow and you don't get to take it with you.  Sing, even if you cannot carry a tune.  Dance as if no one is watching even if they are.  Smile at a stranger.  Pray.  Meditate.  Color.

Be grateful.

Feeling Stronger Every Day

You know I'm alright now.

Some lyrics from one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands, Chicago.

The song is talking about a relationship.  I am talking about my health.  Chicago is one of those bands that I can relate to a handful of their songs.

Right after my diagnosis, I felt very isolated; with good reason.  Sometimes 10 days would go by without me leaving my house.  It was the dead of winter which is not my favorite season when I feel 100%.  I was still very overwhelmed, out of my element, not following any type of routine.

Those who know me know that I thrive on routine...they know how much I love to have a plan.  Simple things that I didn't even realize I was missing were part of my routine that had gone by the wayside.

Music.  Every day I listen to music.  It's rare that music fails to pull me out of a foul mood.  My music collection is vast, my musical taste is eclectic.  There are few types of music that I do not like.  Part of my daily routine includes listening to my collection on iTunes in my car during my commute.  Chemo stole my immune system so my commute to work went from 9 miles one way to the 25 steps from my bedroom to the dining room table.  It took several weeks working from home before I realized what was missing...the MUSIC.

I got a bluetooth wireless speaker last Christmas as a gift and had set it aside.  Once I realized I needed my music again, it became part of my office set up.  When the music returned, my sense of isolation lessened.  I also started venturing out more.  I went back to my voice lessons...they're better than therapy; although if you cannot sing, maybe not.  I actually chose a new song based on something I heard during my new routine.

One day at my desking room table, my iPhone chose this song and the lyrics struck me even more than normal because I was FEELING STRONGER EVERY DAY.  Some time between treatment 2 and 3, it was true.  It was then I almost started dreading my treatments because of the few days when I felt like I had been hit by a tour bus.

This summer we went to see Chicago at Ravinia.  In my mind Ravinia was built for a band like Chicago but ironically enough, it was only a couple of years ago when the band made their first appearance at this serene venue.  I smiled when Feeling Stronger Every Day played and sang the lyrics as if I was a back up singer.  By then I knew I was alright now. :-)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rpzjbJKR85I