my Breast Cancer blog

2004, age 34 — this is my story

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Submit Your Message of Strength & Win!

deviantjeans.com

deviantjeans.com

Here it is, as promised: the “Message of Strength” contest, sponsored by Deviant Jeans.

It’s really quite simple to participate — just submit your personal Message of Strength or mantra on Deviant Jeans’ Facebook page, and the crew over there will chose a winner based on originality, strength and how well it could translate into art.

If your words win, you’ll receive one free EMPOWERWRAP (valued at $75.00) with your message inscribed, and the artwork created from your submission will be added to the Deviant Jeans Gallery, titled with your first name.

OK, ready to play?

  • Visit the Deviant Jeans Facebook Fan page and click on ‘Discussions.’
  • Find the topic “Message of Strength Contest!”
  • Add your Message of Strength! Examples (but don’t use these, please): “Fight Like a Girl” / “If my mind can conceive it, and my heart can believe it, I know I can achieve it.”
  • After you type your message, add ‘#mybcblog’ to indicate you learned about the contest here.
  • You’ve got until Friday, June 18 at 5:00 PM to participate.

Ghost Whisperer Stands Up to Cancer

The folks at the TV show “Ghost Whisperer” are teaming with the organization Stand Up To Cancer in the hopes of bringing together the best and the brightest in the cancer community. Throughout the seasons, “Ghost Whisperer” has created promotional materials they’d love for you to check out. They’ve got an interactive game. And The Constellation. And information on teaming up yourself. And if you want to be inspired, check out these touching and moving videos:

“Ghost Whisperer” is standing up to cancer — how about you?

The Rose Run: Register Now!

Roserunlogo

I’ve got the perfect 5K for you. It’s called The Rose Run, and it takes place on Saturday, July 17, 2010 in Petersburg, Michigan. Well, that’s one place it takes place. It also happens wherever you’ll be on that very day — Cleveland, Boston, Denver, Los Angeles, heck, any location in the United States, really. You name it, you can run (or walk) it.

Call it a virtual run, a run from a distance, whatever you want — just gather a few of your friends, form a team, and plan to participate, because I promise you it will make Race Director Jessica Cribbs one happy girl. You see, Jessica lost her mother to breast cancer in January 2009, and this run is in honor of the brave and courageous Rose Hunt. It’s also in support of everyone out there fighting the same disease, and the money raised through the event will benefit breast cancer research. Last year, Jessica raised more than $10,000. Her goal was $2,000.

If you’re game for helping Jessica raise a bunch more cash this year, check out this scoop on registering. And if you do register, leave a comment and let us know from where you’ll be pounding the pavement. We’d love to know.

Charting My Survival, One Kid at a Time

Easter 2010

Easter 2010

All I have to do to chart my progress post-cancer is to look at these kiddos. The one on the far left is Danny. He was 18 months old when I was diagnosed. He’ll be 7 in May. Next to him is cousin Jordan,  a brand new baby at the time (and now 5), she sat with my mom at all of my chemo infusions. Jordan’s sister Tori, almost 3, was not even a thought when breast cancer consumed our lives. And Joey, almost 4 all those years ago, is now a big ‘ol 9-year-old.

What did I count this Easter, besides the 125 eggs I hid in our yard? My blessings. Here are four of them!

God Never Blinks: Book Giveaway

www.hachettebookgroup.com

3 will win! / Photo: www.hachettebookgroup.com

Newspaper columnist and Pulitzer Prize finalist Regina Brett has some important things to say, like:

  • Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
  • If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.
  • Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.

Inspiring stuff, right?

It gets better.

Brett, who in 2006 wrote these and 47 more lessons for the Cleveland Plain Dealer in honor of her 50th birthday, now has a book: God Never Blinks: 50 Lessons for Life’s Little Detours. And in this pretty little book, she takes her lessons and turns them into deeply personal essays. It all flows from her reflection on being a single parent, looking for love, working on her relationship with God, battling cancer and making peace with a difficult childhood — you know, the stuff to which we all can relate in our own private ways.

But wait, it’s gettin’ even better.

Three (3!) of you lucky readers are about to score a copy of Brett’s book. Want to be in the running? Keep reading. Oh, and hey, I hope you win, because this is just the kind of book that can help you live a happy and fulfilling life. Believe me, I have a copy right by my side, and I’m soaking up all sorts of wisdom, like this: Breathe. It calms the mind. Yea, I gotta remember that.

  • Leave a comment and share one of your own life lessons!
  • Leave your comment no later than 5PM ET on Wednesday, March 17, 2010.
  • You may enter only once.
  • Open to legal residents of the United States and Canada only, who are 18 and older.
  • One winner will be selected in a random drawing.
  • Three winners will receive one copy of God Never Blinks (valued at $21.99).
  • No P.O. boxes.
  • Winners will be notified by email, so make sure to check next week to find out if you’ve won!

1/2 Marathon: Numbers Change

Official results are in, and I lied about my 1/2 marathon time. It’s better than 2 hours, 13 minutes and 53 seconds. It’s 2 hours, 12 minutes and 33 seconds. I came in 34th out of 49 in my age group (35-39) and 185th out of all women overall — not sure how many there were total.

1/2 Marathon: The Numbers Are In!

Minutes from the finish line

Me, to the left of the guy in orange / minutes from the finish line

I’m not very good at math. In fact, my third-grader has pretty much out-paced me now that he’s mastering the metric system — yikes! But that doesn’t mean I don’t like numbers. I actually really like them when they have some significance in my life.

Finished!

Not as unhappy as I look, just tired.

I like to say I’m 39 years old (age is kind of like a badge of honor after cancer), that I’ve been married for 14 years, that I have 2 boys (born weighing 10 pounds, 9 ounces and 10 pounds, 2 ounces), that I went to college for 6.5 years, that I’ve survived breast cancer for 5 years, and, now, today, I get to add some new numbers to my bag of tricks. Here goes:

Today, I ran 13.1 miles in 2 hours, 13 minutes and 53 seconds, and it was 29 degrees when I started. I scored 1 pretty medal, 2 hand-made little-boy signs (“Mom, you are a star” on Joey’s sign and “You are good moon mom” on Danny’s sign) and 2 free bagels and some water after the race.

With my mom cooking 1 glorious pasta meal for dinner and John promising me 1 massage later for Valentine’s Day, I’m counting this as a pretty good numbers day — although tomorrow might be a good time to start counting carbs (bagels, pasta!).

1/2 Marathon: Running with Ribbons

Running Ribbons

Ribbon Ready!

The 1/2 marathon I’m going to run next Sunday is kind of like me making a statement. And what I’m saying is that I’m really not that wimpy, after all. Yea, I cried whined the other day when a basketball smacked me in the face during a family game of P-I-G, and I always wimper about doing oh, five regular push-ups, but when it comes to the big stuff (like birthing big babies, beating breast cancer and running long distances), I’m kind of tough.

I’m also saying that the body is a miraculous thing. It can get sick, withstand tortuous treatments and somehow rebound into a healthy, fighting machine. I’ll prove it by crossing the finish line after 13.1 miles with the same legs that five years ago were so weak they could barely support me.

These statements aren’t really visible to anyone else, though — just the stuff that motivates me personally.

I will be running with some tangible statements on race day, though, when I sport one blue ribbon, one orange ribbon and one pink ribbon. Here’s what they’ll say: My orange ribbon will say that I’ve donated blood, my blue ribbon will say that I’ve received blood and my pink ribbon, well, who doesn’t know what that says. Pink is not really part of the event, I’m just adding it, but blue and orange are, because the Five Points of Life race I’m doing raises awareness for the five ways to share life with others through the donation of blood, apheresis, marrow, cord blood, organ and tissue.

Just one week until I make all my 1/2 marathon statements. Then I’ll have to decide on something else to shoot for: an injury-free game of hoops, maybe, or a personal push-up challenge.

Nah.

Push-ups make me crabby.

Hat’s Off to Nancy

Nancy

Nancy

I happen to think bald girls in hats are really very cute, and yet, I never thought of myself that way when I had my very own shiny scalp. I covered that thing with a wig the minute my hair was gone, and I only took it off once my locks were back. I’m sure most chemo-stricken gals would agree: it’s really hard to look at just a face.

I mean, hair is important, just look at the whole industry built around it. We shampoo, condition, straighten, curl, color, fluff, puff and otherwise primp most days of our lives. It’s quite shocking when the hair is gone, which is why I admire those — like Nancy — who can just slap on a cap and proceed with grace.

Nancy has been a breast cancer survivor since June 1, 2009, when she was diagnosed with invasive lobular carcinoma. She’s been documenting her journey on her blog, Milk Dud Warrior, which you really should visit, but in a nutshell, she’s had surgery, chemotherapy and she’s now in the throes of radiation. Her story is inspiring, and I promise you’ll like it. Bonus: you’ll get to see her in the loveliest of hats!

Hope

2005

2005, post-chemo

Five years ago, I was in a hospital bed, too weak from chemo to stand up.

2010, post-run

2010, post-run

Today, I ran 11 miles.

See, there is always hope.

When You Need to Smile

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Photo: One in a Million / [ tumblr ]

I’ve always loved inspirational quotes and uplifting passages. Once while in grad school, I wrote down all my favorites and looked at them whenever my spirits dipped. I even have a folder in a filing cabinet with motivational bits and pieces (those grad school quotes are tucked inside). So when 22-year-old Sara shared in a comment that she crafted a blog especially for herself and her mom — who has an extremely rare type of cancer that can’t be cured — I was instantly intrigued. In one swift click, I was on her site, called One in a Million.  It’s “a place to come when you really need to smile,” writes Sara. And she’s right. Pay her a visit, and you will smile. But you also might feel emotional, and a tear or two might stream down your face, but not in a sad way, just in a touch-your-heart kinda way. For sure. I promise.

I Run For Life

Today, I listened to this song during my 4-mile run, and it’s the very thing that helped me finish. That means it’s definitely going last on my 1/2 marathon playlist, because just when I’m convinced 13.1 miles is way too much for one person to accomplish, I’m going to need a reminder that really, it’s totally and completely do-able. I’m running for life, after all — how hard can it be to pound the pavement for two hours?

(Melissa Etheridge)

It’s been years since they told her about it
The darkness her body possessed
And the scars are still there in the mirror
Everyday that she gets herself dressed
Though the pain is miles and miles behind her
And the fear is now a docile beast
If you ask her why she is still running
She’ll tell you it makes her complete

[Chorus:]
I run for hope
I run to feel
I run for the truth
For all that is real
I run for your mother, your sister, your wife
I run for you and me, my friend
I run for life

It’s a blur since they told me about it
How the darkness had taken its toll
And they cut into my skin and they cut into my body
But they will never get a piece of my soul
And now I’m still learning the lesson
To awake when I hear the call
And if you ask me why I am still running
I’ll tell you I run for us all

[Chorus:]
I run for hope
I run to feel
I run for the truth
For all that is real
I run for your mother your sister your wife
I run for you and me my friend
I run for life

And someday if they tell you about it
If the darkness knocks on your door
Remember her remember me
We will be running as we have before
Running for answers
Running for more

I run for hope
I run to feel
I run for the truth
For all that is real
I run for your mother, your sister, your wife
I run for you and me my friend
I run for hope
I run to feel
I run for the truth
For all that is real
I run for your mother your sister, your daughter, your wife
For you and me my friend
I run for life
Ohohohoh

I run for your mother your sister your wife
I run for you and me my friend
I run for life

Hope, Dare, Dream

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Thanks, Mom!

I asked my mom for note paper this Christmas. Just something simple for jotting down all the stuff I’m always scribbling (lists are my life, they’re the only way I stay sane). And like always, my sweet momma delivered. She didn’t just grab a few boring pads of paper, though. Nope. She found the inspirational stuff that makes me motivated to live like it matters — you know, to be a good mom and wife, help others, run a half marathon, eat healthy (after the holidays, I promise!), take risks, kick cancer’s butt, that kind of stuff.

And here sits my stack of stationery, right next to me on my desk, reminding me to hope, dare and dream. Oh, and she threw in a cute pad with apples on it (another reminder I need to get a grip on my nutritious ways, maybe?), and two pretty personalized pads, too.

I got a lot of great gear for Christmas this year — a hot pink sports bra and running shorts for those 13.1 miles, yummy body lotions, delicious candles, a trendy little vest for chilly Florida days, a mom-made scarf and more. The paper: A definite favorite.

Thanks, mom, for everything — you know me so well.

5 Years and a 1/2 Marathon

Not me, or my shoes. But a cool pic, I think / Photo: Perfecto Insecto, Flickr

Not me. Or my shoes. Just a cool pic / Photo: Perfecto Insecto, Flickr

You might think I’d celebrate my 5-year cancerversary by going out to dinner. Nope. Buying myself something fun? No. Indulging in a massage or pedicure? Well, the pedicure I’ll probably do, because my sweet sister bought me a gift certificate for one, but mostly, I won’t be splurging on anything in the spirit of survival. Instead, I’m signing up for a 1/2 marathon. And I plan to run. the. whole. thing.

The final four on “The Biggest Loser” Tuesday night convinced me I could do it. They ran a full 26.2 miles, but I’m starting small. I really haven’t ever run more than five miles at one time, so I’m putting myself on a 10-week training schedule in order to work up to the feat. It all started today with a three-mile run. Saturday is four. There will be some rest drizzled in, some strength stuff, and then on Sunday, February 14, I’ll hopefully crank out 13.1 miles for Five Points of Life.

Here’s the scoop: Five Points of Life raises awareness for the five ways to share life with others through the donation of blood, apheresis, marrow, cord blood, organ and tissue. Then there’s the exercise component — setting a goal of running or walking a marathon is a great way to commit to a fitness plan that can make a permanent difference in someone’s health and life.

This is perfect for me, because (1) I am a recipient of blood donation — when chemo knocked me on my butt and landed me in the hospital, two units of someone’s blood perked me right up. (2) I’ve also donated. It wasn’t pretty, but I did it — I got all dizzy, had to be carted off on a red chair and was fed cookies and juice until I revived. But hey, someone got my blood, and maybe a life was saved. (3) I’m all about being fit, since I’m pretty sure it might be my key to living a long life, and I figure this training thing will keep me motivated to stay in shape.

OK, so this personal challenge might not be all roses and sunshine. Thirteen miles is, yes, a lot of miles. Training could take a lot of time (which I happen to have, thanks to my no-job scenario), it could be really tiring, I’m going to have to tweak my diet so I’m getting the proper fuel, and I’m not really looking forward to the strength training thing — I just don’t love it. Still, I’m inspired.

So, I’m signing up.

Right now.

Before I chicken out.

I’ll be right back.

Done. I’m registered. I admit: It was hard to push that submit button (especially after realizing that it will likely take me hours to run this event), but it’s a done deal now.

I’m off and running.

Updates to follow.

Live Like We’re Dying

Remember last season’s “American Idol” winner Kris Allen? Here’s his new song, “Live Like We’re Dying.” According to Austin360.com, Allen’s self-titled album, where this single lives, gets a D+. Says blogger Patrick Caldwell, it’s “precisely the sort of pop confectionery you’d expect from a carefully groomed would-be star, a generic outing that’s all soaring harmonies, inoffensive guitar and utter lack of soul.” About the single that kicks off the album, he says, “with cliche lyrics that — aside from, um, urging you to live like you’re dying — elect to go as broad as possible, lest any listener be alienated by an actual glimmer of personality.”

Call me sappy and cliche, but I, um, kinda like the song, even though the title is a little too much like this one.

Think Pink Photography Needs You!

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thinkpinkphotography.org

The first thing I hunted for after I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004 was someone — anyone — with a story like mine. Someone my age, someone with a tumor my size, someone who had survived chemo. And while I wanted to read about personal journeys, I wanted pictures, too.

What the heck was a port, anyway, and what did one look like?

Radiation tattoos? Yikes — how big, how many?

I wanted to see scars, bald heads and happy faces telling me everything would be OK.

I never found Think Pink Photography back then, but I’ve found it now, and if you are someone who needs a glimpse into the world of breast cancer, you can find it here. But it gets better: If you are a breast cancer person, you can score your very own photo shoot, which means you’ll have beautiful images of yourself, and if you’re featured in the website photo gallery, others can find inspiration from you, too. If you’re a photographer, you can join the photographer network and help make a difference.

Here’s some more scoop: Think Pink Photography was founded in October 2007 to support individuals and their families who have been touched by breast cancer. A charitable organization that serves two main purposes — celebrating life and supporting the cause — Think Pink matches breast cancer patients with photographers for charitable sessions to document the fight and celebrate the victory.

Sounds fun, right? Well, if you want to get started, you can find a network photographer in your area here. If you need to contact Think Pink, here’s the place. There’s also a blog here, and of course, a Facebook page, and Twitter, too. Once you dive in and perhaps take the plunge, come back and tell us how went!