One year ago this coming week, I got a letter from the breast center that said, once again, that there was an asymmetry in my mammogram.
I went into the Thanksgiving holiday with a sense of dread, because this time, it was different.
This time, there was a dimple on the side of my breast, and my nipple had started to turn inside out in the weeks leading up to the mammogram.
Yes, I had been to my doctor. Yes, she had palpated the dimpled breast and was unconcerned.
Turns out she was wrong to be unconcerned, and I was just as wrong to not pursue it.
I didn't educate myself, I just took her at her word, so the responsibility is mine just as much as it was hers.
This year, at this time, my breasts are gone, and I have been through almost a year of chemotherapy for metastatic cancer.
I have been through a year of firsts, as I have discussed here previously....first IV, first time in an MRI machine (consequently, also my first valium), PET scanner, and CT scanner, multiple times for all, first echocardiogram. First time in the hospital. First time having surgery. First time having to take multiple prescription drugs.
First time hearing the words "We found breast cancer," and then, a couple of weeks later, first time hearing "we found cancer in your bones and liver. Best chance scenario for most people is 5 years survival."
First time overcoming MANY many fears.
Through this past year, I have been amazingly healthy. I have continued to walk every day, during my breaks at work, with few exceptions.
I have tried to do a little bit with my hand weights at least a couple of times a week, and use our little elliptical here and there when I couldn't take my walks. I also do my stretches at least once every day, and that includes some yoga and calisthenics.
The only aspect of my usual physical fitness regime that has been missing is dance, and I hope to return to that next month, once we find out what is next for me.
For the most part, I have continued to live my normal life, with only a few exceptions (that immune boosting drug that went with the adriamycin was some nasty shit, and I missed extra work because of it. The miracle part is that the adria didn't make me sick and cause me to miss 4 months of work!)
In going through this process over these months, I have developed a series of "mantras" that I repeat to myself during my walks.
That seems to be the easiest time to do the repetitive chants in my head...out in the fresh air (mostly, sometimes in the walking tunnel under the hospital across the street from work if it's too hot, cold, or wet outside).
With every step, I grow stronger, healthier, and happier.
Or, alternately, with every step, my strength, stamina, and immune system increase.
Every moment of every day, in every way, I triumph over cancer and the side effects of treatment.
With every breath, waking or sleeping, thinking about it or not, the cells in my body are returning to perfect, balanced health.
In my afternoon walks, I tend to pray in various ways. So, since I get two 15 minute breaks, I've been doing my mantras in the morning, and prayers in the afternoon.
Then, since the beginning, when I took a Shamanic style vision/journey to beg the spiritual side of nature for help, I have been using the gift of a nightly visualization practice.
This practice involves visualizing a blueish white light that emanates from the depths of the universe, where all healing energy is created.
This light travels out in every conceivable direction to bring healing to all beings in need.
When the strand that is meant for me finds me, it separates into a billion tiny filaments. These tiny threads of healing light penetrate my body, and spiral into each and every cell. The spiraling light balances out the dna of every cell and restores it to normalcy.
Then, as the light travels through my entire body, and begins to exit, it carries with it all of the fear, carrying it away....out and away....to be recycled by the infinity of spirit.
Funny thing was, this last chemotherapy drug that I was given, Abraxane, is blueish white.
Hmmm.
Also, all through this process, Dave and I have been praying over the chemo as it passed into my body, asking for help to guide the medicine to go where it needed to go, do what it needed to do, and leave me feeling fine.
I think I posted about that way back in January some time.
We also called out to collect the prayers, blessings, good thoughts, and all other forms of energy being generated by others on my behalf during treatments as the drugs entered my body, and we saw all of it creating a golden connection between me and all of those people all over the world, most of whom I have never met.
All that being said, I think the spiritual aspects of this process have been well covered!
As we prepare for Thanksgiving this year, I await my appointment on Dec. 2 to get post chemo scans done, and to see the oncologist. He said that appointment is for the purpose of "mapping out the rest of the treatments."
Our hearts sank when we heard that, not knowing what might be next, but at least I am enjoying two weeks of no appointments and no treatments of any kind.
We are hoping that there won't be any more chemo. I don't thing a body can take more than what worked out to 12 treatments (the last two having been broken out into 6 weekly smaller treatments).
I also scheduled my first physical therapy appointment for that day, in between the scans and the doctor visit, so that we won't just be sitting around dreading the doctor visit.
I think I mentioned previously that physical therapy was ordered by my surgeon, in order to learn how to deal with the lymphedema in my right arm.
In regard to how I feel about the upcoming scans....I just keep telling myself the news can't be any worse than it already was.
Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers who celebrate.
I, for one, have a lot to be thankful for, surprising as it may seem.
To have stayed well, mostly, during almost a year of chemotherapy, is nigh upon a miracle.
Oh...one more chant I say on my walks... I AM the miracle.
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