Archive for May, 2006

How cancer shapes me

Saturday, May 20th, 2006

I am a breast cancer survivor. I am also a wife, a mother, a sister, a daughter, an aunt, a friend, a scrapbooker, a shopper (I love shoes!) a preschool teacher, a licensed hair stylist, and a writer. I’m sure I have forgotten something because I know I am a whole lot more than these titles suggest. Somehow, though, in my mind, “breast cancer survivor” seems to loom over all these other roles I play. Sometimes I think this is not okay — that I should not be defined by a disease that I do believe I will conquer. But other times, I think this is okay. Cancer is big. It’s monumental. And it does affect all these roles. It has changed my physical appearance so I doubt that cancer will ever be far from the front of my mind. And it has changed my mothering — I’m a little more patient and a lot more raw when it comes to love I feel for my baby boys. It has changed me as a friend — it reminds me to keep in touch with long-lost friends and to maintain friends who are close to me. It makes me see the preschoolers I work with as little beings who need so much love and attention and care — and it makes me happy that I get to share warmth and compassion with them while their parents are away. And cancer has led me to a new job — as a writer or “blogger” — and has rekindled in me the thrill of writing something that is read by many. I remember first seeing my name in print in my college newspaper when I was a journalism major (a major I dropped to instead pursue a degree in counseling and education). It was exciting then. It is exciting now.

I have had three posts published on www.thecancerblog.com. My job is to write 50 or more posts per month on the topic of cancer. Yesterday I wrote about a sister breast cancer survivor who has inspired me and also about Hip Hats — the internet store where I bought my wigs. Today I wrote about Chemo Angels — a volunteer organization that assigns volunteers to write to patients experiencing treatment for cancer. So I’ve seen my name appear three times, complete with my own story and photo and headline and I am eager to write more. And to receive a paycheck too!

So cancer does not define me. But it does shape me. If it weren’t for cancer, I would not be as thoughtful about some of my roles in this world. And I would not have been offered this job. Because of cancer and my personal blog, I was “discovered” by someone who liked my writing and thought I could offer something valuable to a whole audience of people. Cancer has awakened me to my love for writing and is heading me down a new, bright path. A path of discovery and happiness.

For a change.

Jacki Donaldson

Posted in Inspiration, My story, Work | 4 Comments »

Why girls have so much stuff

Tuesday, May 16th, 2006

Joey asked John last night, “Why do girls have so much stuff?” Hiding his laughter and feigning a serious tone, John asked Joey what he meant. Joey said, “Why do girls have boobies and bras and pants and shoes and shampoos?” I am not sure what John told Joey — I’m not sure if John even knows the answer. I do know John and I are still laughing today at this question, posed by a five-year-old who is trying to figure out this confusing world. Sometimes he can’t figure out the complexities; sometimes he gets it right on. Like the other day when Danny asked me while we were driving in our van, “Mommy, are you winning?” I told Danny that driving is not a race — even though a car had just passed me by — and that I do not try to “win.” I told him some cars drive faster and some cars drive slower but that we should all go the speed limit. Joey piped in and said, “Danny, actually, the cars that are going faster are the ones who are losing because they are going to get pulled over and get a ticket.” What perspective. Now he just has to grasp this girl thing. Maybe that won’t ever happen. All I can do is tell him why I have so much stuff. Because it makes me feel good.

But “stuff” alone doesn’t make me feel good. Simple joys do the trick too. Like watching Danny yesterday as he learned to pump his legs while swinging. And watching him today learn to start himself on the swing, without a push from anyone. He is a whole year younger than Joey was when he learned this daunting task. Danny is not even three years old. Close, though — he will be three on May 30th and he talks constantly about his party where he wants to invite Wyatt and Jayda — two five-year-olds from preschool. He invites everyone, really. At the pediatrician’s office one day recently, the doctor asked Danny his age. He said, “Gonna be three. Want to come at my party?” I’m not sure what will come of this party, which I think I will have one afternoon on the school playground. But joyous it will be. I know that for sure.

Other simple joys — a new job I was just recently offered at www.thecancerblog.com. I will work part-time writing posts that relate in some way to cancer. They can reflect news and information and personal perspective too. Oddly, several people contacted me during the same week asking if I would write for them. They found me through this blog, liked what I’ve written, and offered me jobs. I could only accept one and am honored, flattered, happy that I will get to write not only for pay but for an audience that may benefit from what I can offer. I also found out today that my site is featured as one of the top 10 sites for breast cancer information on http://breast-cancer.toptensources.com/TopTenSources/Default.aspx. And I may do some volunteer guest articles and Q & A sessions for some other sites.

More joy: a training/exercise routine that has me actually noticing a few muscles I never knew I had, a ban on candy in our house that we hope will encourage healthier eating, and a check-up with my surgeon that revealed that my breast thought to be infected is not in fact infected.

When it rains, it pours. Downpours of simple joy.

Jacki Donaldson

Posted in Exercise, Family, Kids, My story, Tests, Work | 9 Comments »

The room full of uncertainty

Saturday, May 6th, 2006

I waited for hours yesterday to hear the results of my mammogram and ultrasound. It’s not an odd thing — the waiting — and the women revolving in and out of the doors of this office know the routine well. We sign in and wait. We are led into another room, lock our clothing in a locker, put on a cape-like gown so that we are all partially revealed to one another — and we wait. We are called back to the exam room where our breasts are squeezed and manipulated and squashed like pancakes into a machine. Photos are taken, we are excused, and we report back to our previous location — and we wait. We are called again, into a hallway, where a nurse usually says, “The doctor has looked at your films and everything is just fine. You may put your clothes on and check out.” A sigh of relief for many. And then the chore is done for one whole year. Unless you are me.

For women like me, who have had breast cancer, the scenario is a bit different because regardless of what the mammogram shows for me, I go on to get an ultrasound and meet with the doctor. And I visit this office twice a year — not once. This came as a shock to the draped women who sat with me in the holding room who assumed I was there for the obligatory one-year check-up. One woman stated the assumption and then I told her of my story — that I am still receiving treatment for breast cancer and am monitored more closely than some. She apologized for steering into my business but I really didn’t mind. I enjoyed telling my story and answering questions and offering hope to those who sat uncertain of the news they would receive. You see, you don’t have to feel a lump to find out you have cancer, like I did. Often, the mammogram picks up on a problem when there was never a suspicion at all that anything existed. So the women who enter this office and wait for hours do so with anxiety and a tinge of fear. So I think these women asked me questions in order to prepare for the potential bad news they may one day receive. And I wanted them to know that the bad news doesn’t have to be all that bad. Because here I am, healthy and strong and happy and with a mop of brown curls that no one in the room would have ever known is my second batch of hair. One woman said to me, “I am so sorry.” And another responded, “Don’t be sorry. Look at her — she’s surviving.” And that is exactly what I wanted them to think.

I got a round of applause at the end of my visit — from these women who I talked with for more than hour. They clapped for me and smiled for me and sent me on my way with tears welling up in my eyes. I know they were clapping to honor me — for fighting this sometimes deadly disease. But I hope they were clapping also with the knowledge that they too can fight and win this battle.

For now I am still winning my battle. My mammogram looked good and my ultrasound did too. The doctor did determine that I have an skin infection on one nipple — which worries me a bit when I allow myself to really think about it. But I will take an antibiotic for one week and will not dwell on this hopefully normal occurrence.

And then back in six months when I enter the room of uncertainty again.

Jacki Donaldson

Posted in Inspiration, My story, Tests | 6 Comments »