Countdown to Chemo

Chemo starts tomorrow - only 6 rounds left!  I realize that I am holding up 2 fingers, but didn't want to offend anyone by holding up the 1 finger I really wanted to use.  Please feel free to choose which ever of my digits you picture me holding up as I prepare to kick breast cancer to the curb!

It has been a crazy 6 weeks around here.  On May 9, I found a lump on my breast, above the implant used for reconstruction from a double mastectomy 11 years ago.  As I said in my first post, WTF??  The really good news, however, is that we caught the cancer at Stage 1, which means early detection wins again!  They removed all the cancer during surgery, and the upcoming treatment is purely preventative.  Woo hoo!

Since May, life has been a medical whirlwind.  Beginning on May 13 (my 49th birthday, btw), I have had:

• 6 oncology appointments
• 3 surgical appointments
• 1 plastic surgery consultation
• 2 sonograms
• 1 biopsy
• 1 mastectomy (which makes 3 for me - go figure.  Never thought my original software was big enough for even 1 mastectomy, much less 3!)
• 1 bone scan using a radioactive tracer
• 2 CT Scans
• 2 CT Scans with contrast
• 2 (40 gallon, I believe) containers of barium
• ? bottles of wine
• Countless blood draws
• Genetic testing
• 1 echocardiogram (yes, I do have a heart in there)
• 1 short haircut

And, most importantly...

165 pieces of mail.  165!!  I couldn't get them all in one picture, so here's a small sampling.  These beautiful cards, notes and photographs began filling my mailbox the day after my diagnosis - I'm not even sure how that happened!  I'm not sure how this shower of love notes began, but I do have a few suspicions.  This mail has been so uplifting, and it makes me smile every single day.  I have laughed out loud and been touched by each and every one of them.  I look through them often when I feel a little overwhelmed by all the medical details because I know that every single person that has reached out to me is with me in spirit as I battle this beast.  Additionally, I've received 3 bottles of wine, one hand-painted sand dollar heart, 3 beautiful flower arrangements,   countless delicious dinners brought by friends, and 1 handmade quilt. 

Let me just say, THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart.  I am so blessed to have you all in my life, and together, we've got this.

Grand Adventures and Silver Linings

It was a dark and stormy night...here in Fort Worth,  a dozen years ago or so.  A typical Texas Spring night - thunder, lightning and hail; the electricity flashing on and off.  Julio and I were listening to the weather radio, trying to calm Alex and Andrew, when the tornado alarms started sounding.  We snatched up blankets, pillows, umbrellas and juice boxes, and rushed through the rain and hail, screaming and giggling,  to our neighbors' storm shelter, which contains all the ambiance of a giant metal dumpster buried in the yard.  Probably because it is a  1960s model metal shelter (aka, dumpster buried in the yard).  My kids were  frightened by the storm but we assured them that it was a "grand adventure" and that it was going to be great.  And it was.  My neighbor brought a bottle of wine, and we stayed in the shelter and visited for an hour or so until the storm subsided, before running back home in the dark, thankful that we were all safe and that there was very little damage - only a few small limbs had blown down.  From that night on anytime our family is facing an unpleasant task or situation, or if a storm is blowing in, we refer to it as a "grand adventure", and the kids roll their eyes and groan.

One thing I know about any "grand adventure" that life throws our way is that there is always a silver lining.  No matter what happens, you have to find at least one good thing to focus on so that you can power through an uncomfortable or downright horrible situation.  And when the "grand adventure" is over, I've learned that you can look back and invariably see so many blessings and happy endings related to that experience that you will lose count.   Like that night we spent in the dumpster shelter - the fact that we still remember it, and still laugh about it, makes it a good night in my book.

When I think about my first BC diagnosis in 2002, I consider the entire ordeal as one of the blessings of my life.  Yes, it was horrible, but there was a huge silver lining. My subsequent participation in and employment with the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure during the years following my breast cancer battle introduced me to a group of like-minded men and women dedicated not only to finding a cure for breast cancer, but to making this world a better place.  And they do.  Daily.  Every single person that I have met through the 3-Day family, whether a teammate, fellow participant, co-worker, volunteer, sponsor or outfitter, has had a positive influence on my life, inspired me, and made me a better person.   I am  honored to call each and every one of them "friend", and I am especially delighted that some of my closest friendships have come about because of my affiliation with this incredible organization.  Friendships with people from all over the country, whose paths I may never have crossed but for that initial common bond formed by my breast cancer diagnosis.   And for that, I am truly thankful. Every day.

When I received my new diagnosis last month, Andrew said, eyes rolling, "Oh, great.  Is this going to be another "grand adventure"?  Why, yes.  Yes it is.  So hold on!  I can't wait to uncover those silver linings hiding in all these damned clouds.

I'm Gonna Need a New Story

Many of you know my story.  After being diagnosed with BC at age 38, after being crowned "survivor", I went on a mission.  A mission  to eradicate this horrible disease, and a mission to help other families who were dealing with it.  I began raising money for Susan G. Komen for the Cure by participating in the 3-Day For the Cure series, walking 60 miles, year after year.  I went to work for the 3-Day for the Cure, in an effort to inspire others to dedicate themselves to raising funds for this incredible organization that will most certainly have a hand in whatever research leads us to a cure.  And I spoke with people. Lots of people.  I shared my story in hopes that it would encourage someone else.  And I showed BC who was boss!

When I received my 2nd diagnosis this past May 15th, my first thought (after the initial shock) was "I'm gonna need a new story!"  Since my first diagnosis I had delighted in being the success story.  The story with the happy ending.  The story of the survivor who had battled this awful disease and won.  The realization that I was no longer that survivor scared me, but not for purely selfish reasons.  I was afraid someone fighting their own BC battle would look at me and say "what's the point - it comes back?"  And I can't have that!  I never want my story to be discouraging, so I decided right then and there that I would write a new story.  A new, inspirational, positive story.  My TWO-TIME SURVIVOR story.  And I am looking forward to writing it with you.  Because together, we can.

In August 2011 I was privileged to share my story at the Chicago 3-Day for the Cure. My first survivor story.  Here's a link to the speech, and the transcript is below:

On September 11, 2001, the world changed for many of us.  While most of you were glued to your televisions, I spent the morning getting a diagnostic mammogram.  While our nation was under attack, my radiologist found a tiny spot in my left breast, the size of a grain of sand.  But because of the horrible events that were unfolding that morning, and because the foundations of our country were being shaken, my doctor told me to go home and hold my husband and my children close.   He also told me to follow up with him in a year; which I did.  One year later that single spot had turned to dozens, and that same radiologist sent me for a biopsy, “just for our peace of mind”.  My biopsy was performed on a Tuesday morning.  Two days later, while sitting in my sister’s kitchen, I received a diagnosis of breast cancer.  I was 38 years old.  I had a 9-year -old daughter and a 3-year-old son.  And I had no family history of breast cancer.

I owe my life to Susan G. Komen for the Cure.  Because of the awareness they have raised concerning breast cancer, I requested a baseline mammogram at age 37.  Because their research over the last 29 years has led to advances in mammography, my doctors were able to diagnose my breast cancer at the earliest possible stage.  And because their research over the last 31 years has led to more effective surgical and treatment options for breast cancer patients, I am standing before you today, celebrating 9 years as a survivor.  Susan G. Komen for the Cure gave me a second chance at life, and now I pay it forward by making sure other women and men get that same chance at a long life.   I pay it forward, funding research by walking in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure.

I walk and fundraise year after year so that no other woman (or man) has to hear that frightening diagnosis.  I walk and fundraise so that no one else has to face surgeries and radiation and chemotherapy.  I walk and fundraise so that no mother ever has to worry about who will raise her children if she loses her battle to this horrible disease.  And I walk and fundraise so that no other child has to lose her mother.  Or her grandmother.  Or her cousin.  Or her sister.  Or her best friend.  Or her husband.  I walk and fundraise to find a cure for breast cancer.  I’m Saralyn, and I walk because EVERYONE DESERVES A LIFETIME!

There's something I need to get off my chest.

I was just diagnosed with breast cancer.  For the second time.  Eleven years after bi-lateral mastectomies.  WTF?  I didn't ask for this journey the first time, and I certainly didn't expect to take it a second time, but since I'm here, and (like it or not) you are all here with me, let's make the very best of  this long and winding road.  I'll record this journey step by step with two goals in mind: 1) to keep everyone updated on what's happening with me, and 2) to hopefully provide some inspiration along the way.  So in the words of the immortal John Belushi, "Who's with me?  Let's go!"