I haven’t written since I bragged about what a positive person I am. I guess you could say I’m being tested. (Spoiler alert: I’m still cancer free so it’s not that.) This holiday season has felt surreal. I’ve been thinking a lot about this past year and my cancer. As I’ve been going through all the motions of getting and decorating the tree, making cookies, moving the elf, sending cards and attending festive events I keep thinking “When I did this last year I had cancer growing inside me. How did I not know?” Sometimes the reality of it hits me so hard I just want to bawl. And I’m not sure why this is happening now. I’m healthy. I’m here. I played in the snow with J last week (which is one of the things I was afraid I’d never get to do again). I got my life back. All of the things I prayed I’d get to do again – I’m doing them. So why am I feeling like this? I think maybe it’s all just finally sinking in. I think I was on autopilot during treatment. My goal was to just plow through it and not think too much. So now I’m thinking – and it sucks.

Also, I’ve been volunteering for a program called “Survivors Teaching Students” where myself and a couple of other ovarian cancer survivors tell our stories to medical students. The hope is that putting a face and a story to this disease will help with earlier diagnosis and better outcomes. I did this yesterday and the 2 other women I presented with have each had recurrences. One of them at 18 months post treatment and the other at 4 years. It makes it harder to believe (or hope) it won’t happen to me when I’m meeting people it has happened to. On the plus side, each of these women beat it a second time and they’re still here. There’s a Q&A portion at these talks and one of the med students asked us how we faced the possibility of death. It was a tough question. I wanted to say “I didn’t”. But the truth is, I did. So, I told the truth. I said, “I have a really strong faith and I think I would have been able to come to some sort of peace if it was my time to die. I really think I could have done it. But I could never and will never accept the fact that it would leave my daughter motherless and my husband without a partner.” I was expecting a strictly clinical conversation and I wasn’t prepared to revisit those thoughts.

As if this all wasn’t emotional enough, here’s the really tough part. My Luna will be starting radiation next week for an infiltrative lipoma. Lipomas aren’t technically cancer in that they don’t metastasize to other parts of the body. But sometimes they grow rapidly and invade – so this one might as well be cancer. She had it surgically removed last year but it’s back…with a vengeance. It’s on her hip and is pressing on her bowel. Surgically removing it with clear margins would require amputation. None of us are ready for that. So, we’ll try radiation. Every weekday for almost 4 weeks. She’s going to get a port too. Like me.

When I told Rick he said “I don’t know why God keeps testing us”. I said “I don’t think it’s God doing it. But maybe we keep getting tested because we keep passing every test with flying fucking colors”. Luna’s our 3rd vizsla and the 3rd one to get cancer, or it’s equivalent. Flynn had hemangiosarcoma and our rescue Kulshan had lymphoma. Now Luna has this. I mentioned our vizsla cancer history to the veterinary oncologist and she said recent studies have shown that up to 80% of dogs will get cancer. 80%! What are we doing to poison our dogs? And if we’re poisoning our dogs we’re obviously poisoning ourselves too. The percentage of people who will get cancer is almost 40%. And by the way, that damn cancer causing compressor station has been approved and will be going in down the street from where I grew up. This kind of thinking can really send one into a downward spiral. So you see, I’m not always sunshine and rainbows. The glass spilled. I’ll pick it up and it will be half full again. But right now I’m just going to stare at the spill for a while and think WTF!

So, I took Luna to Angell Animal hospital the other day because a mass she had removed from her hip last year has come back. It’s benign – but it’s infiltrative so more complicated than any of us would like. I told the Dr I was relieved it wasn’t more serious because I previously lost 2 vizslas to different kinds of cancers and he dryly joked “you must have been a serial killer in a former life”. I laughed.

But it made me realize how truly lucky I am to be a glass half full person by nature. I mean, if I were to really think about my dogs dying of cancer, my 2 different kinds of cancer, losing Owen and my experience with infertility etc, I guess I could think maybe it’s karma.

But that’s just not how my brain works. I’m certainly not the only person who has gone through tragedy. Everyone suffers. People lose loved ones, suffer poverty, get divorced, get sick, feel alone, suffer addictions, lose jobs etc all the time. If tragedy was all I could focus on my mind would be a terrible place to be. And believe me, I know there are people who don’t see past the pain and I know many of them truly can’t help it. I just consider myself lucky (and maybe blessed?). I don’t really have to try to think positively. It comes pretty naturally.

I’m sitting here in the oncology infusion bay at MGH getting my Avastin and all I can think of is how far I’ve come! Since that first day of chemo, when I bawled uncontrollably and that kind woman (whom I still think could have been an angel) told me I’d be ok, to sitting here today. I feel like a pro! This infusion is just a mild inconvenience in my day, once every 3 weeks. Like I said to Rick earlier, “It’s such a gorgeous day. I wish I didn’t have to go. But hey, it’s gonna keep me alive so I’m game”.

more than I thought I would. I’ll start by saying that this summer has been amazing and I feel great.  We’ve been so busy and I’ve loved every second of it.  I feel like I’m making up for lost time.  We’ve had lots of visitors including friends from college, friends from NYC and family from Miami (plus more to come).  Rick and I had a few days alone in Nantucket for his birthday and Juliette went to coastal NH and Lake Winnepasaukee with her grandparents and cousins. There’s also been camp and boats and beach and pool days with friends and family and we have a camping trip coming up. J is one lucky kid!

But you know what doesn’t really go well with 90 degree days, boats, pools and beaches? A wig! So, I’ve spent a lot of time sporting my new, gray peach fuzz. And you know how I know it looks cray cray – kids are honest and they aren’t afraid to ask about it. I mean, I’m fully aware that I am blessed to be healthy and to be here and I get that hair is pretty irrelevant.  But my head is a constant reminder to me of what I’ve been through.  I can get wrapped up in having fun and enjoying life and forget all about the cancer for a little while – until I happen to see myself in a mirror.  Then I’m smacked right in the face with the reality of it. Or, a stranger will give me a sympathetic look or comment. I’ve been to 2 separate concerts where young women have come up to me and told me how awesome I was, which confused me…until I remembered I didn’t have my wig on. The wig allows me to keep my secret to myself but my peach fuzz puts it all out there.  I had a dream the other night that I walked by a mirror and I looked like my old self. With my old hair. It made me sad. I truly wish I didn’t care. I wish I wasn’t vain, but I am who I am. I’m not the same person I was before ovarian cancer so I guess it make sense that I don’t look like that person anymore.          

I’ve had 2 of my Avastin only infusions so far this summer. They happen every 3 weeks.  Juliette came with us the last time.  She finally got to meet my Dr and all of my care team. It was good for her and took away a lot of the mystery.  My Dr says I’m doing great.  My CA-125 remains at 5, which she says is one of the lowest numbers she sees.  Last time she said I was probably the healthiest person she’d see all week, which simultaneously makes me feel grateful and sad and mad. Sad for the others who aren’t doing as well and mad because, well, if I’m so damn healthy why’d I get cancer in the first place?! Rick says that’s not the point and that the fact that I’m so healthy is what helped me handle all of this so well. I guess he has a point.

I’ve had less time for self care. During treatment I spent a lot of time alone and had regular Reiki and Acupuncture and did a lot of guided meditation. I slowed down. A lot. Now that Juliette is home all summer down time is rare and much of my self care has been pushed to the back burner.  I keep reminding myself that I have to continue to take care of all aspects of myself: body, mind and spirit (which was always Skye’s sage advice in college). I’m a caretaker by nature and making my own needs a priority feels selfish. This will always be a challenge for me but I’m up to the challenge.

Well, it’s officially over. I had my last (hopefully ever) chemotherapy treatment on Monday June 10. It was pretty anticlimactic as far as the actual final session goes. There wasn’t even a bell for me to ring! Turns out, at Mass General they only have a bell for people who finish radiation. Personally, I think that’s an oversight. But, that night the 3 of us took turns ringing our own bell.

This cycle was pretty much status quo as far as side effects go. Overall, my Dr said I tolerated chemo incredibly well, which she said had a lot to do with my being healthy and having a positive attitude. My prognosis is good. My CA-125 has been below 10 (and anything less than 35 generally means no cancer) for several cycles now. I asked her again about the likelihood of a recurrence. Though she obviously does not have a crystal ball she still maintains that I’m not going to die until I’m a very old woman. I’m choosing to believe her. Well, at least I’m trying to.

I still have to go for my Avastin infusion every 3 weeks for a year, starting on July 1. It’s not chemo so it won’t make me sick and it won’t take long. The major side effects are a runny nose and scratchy throat, which I’ll gladly take. Plus, my Dr said that a lot of people have anxiety after chemo ends and they stop seeing their Dr. regularly. I get it. When you’re getting chemo, as much as it sucks, you at least feel like you’re “doing something” to keep the cancer away. So, it will be good for me to continue to get the Avastin and to see her regularly.

I feel a huge sense of relief and accomplishment. Although I know fear is going to creep up from time to time, I’m just enjoying feeling cancer free right now. And I’m happy my immune system is going to get back to normal eventually. I can’t wait to eat oysters and sushi and get “real” mani/pedis again! I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m a little nervous about my hair. It will likely come in gray and curly (at least for a while) and I probably won’t recognize myself. I’ll probably continue to wear a wig for a while. I can’t help it. I’m vain. Some hair is officially starting to grow back already – I found a rouge chin hair the other day.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’ve now had (and survived) cancer twice. After my kidney cancer I made a lot of positive changes to my life including my relationships and my health. That’s also when I took up running. So this time I’ve been wondering if there has to be some greater purpose to my still being here? Is it Juliette? Or am I supposed to be helping other people with cancer in some way? Or should I become a hard core yogi who meditates? I have no idea what it is…but it was weighing on my mind.

Then, as fate would have it, I had an unexpected opportunity to see my oldest childhood friend (who lives out of state) this week. She knows me better than I know myself. I was trying to explain this feeling to her and she said “What if it isn’t some big calling? What if you’re just supposed to be your best self? Be the best mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister you can be. Be kinder and gentler to yourself and others. Find joy in everyday things. That kind of thing.”

It’s so simple but it was like a lightening bolt went off! I realized she’s 100% right. This is my life purpose. This is why I got yet another chance.

PS – the dream board goals are already starting to come to fruition. We have a fantastic vegetable garden, with more lettuce and kale than we can consume. (Come visit and I’ll give you some). They’re growing in raised beds were hand made by my talented husband. And we booked a family trip to Northern Italy for this coming fall. I can’t wait!

I realize I haven’t blogged in a long time and I guess that’s a good thing. I’ve been busy with normal life! I had my 5th (and second to last) chemo treatment on Monday May 20. Both Dr del Carmen and my nurse Elizabeth had birthdays that week (I found this out when we realized we all had May birthdays) so I brought them fancy chocolates and Juliette made them each cards thanking them for taking such good care of her mommy.

Usually, the chemo area is pretty quiet. Most of the time, we each sit in our own little area, with our curtains drawn and we don’t pay too much attention to the people around us. But this day was atypical. One woman had her newborn granddaughter visiting. Though the curtains were drawn the new baby certainly made her presence known. I overheard talk of breastfeeding and sleep schedules, which was like a trip down memory lane. And later, a group of older men came in to visit their friend. We couldn’t help but overhear that they were all cops. Unfortunately their conversation wasn’t full of riveting police drama. Rather, one of them was trying to convince his skeptical friends that sushi is in fact good. All of the commotion made the day go by faster.

As for my post-chemo days, they were probably my best so far. The nausea has escalated as the cycles progress (I have meds to help with that) but I had more energy than usual and less pain and numbness. At least I think I did – it’s possible I’ve just become accustomed to it. At any rate, I was feeling well enough to celebrate my birthday on May 26 and I finally got away!

We went to the Woodstock Inn in VT (all 3 of us) and had an incredible time. The weather was gorgeous so we spent time at the pool, hiking to a waterfall and at Killington’s adventure center. Zip lining and mountain roller coaster riding are not conducive to hats or wigs so I went fully bald in public for the first time. It was liberating! We also spent time in the Inn’s old school game room where Juliette beat me at checkers and Rick kicked my butt in Pacman. And of course, we had some amazing meals at our favorite place (Worthy Kitchen) as well as Simon Pearce. Juliette was fascinated by the glass blowers. It was truly a magical 49th birthday and one I will never forget. My sister also reminded me that I’m one of the few people she knows who is actually looking forward turning 50. Ha!

I’ve been in good spirits and I feel good. I’m nearing the chemo finish line (June 10)! Yet, I can’t help but think about an 11 year old local girl named Maddie who passed away from cancer last week. I didn’t know Maddie, or her family, but she attended Juliette’s school and the whole town knew about her brave fight with cancer. As I continue to pray that I will be able to watch my daughter grow up and grow old with my husband I am reminded how fragile life truly is. Why should I get to beat cancer and a sweet 11 year old girl with an entire life ahead of her shouldn’t? It just makes me realize how random cancer really is. It can strike anyone at any time. Often cancer loses, but sometimes it wins.

I’ve always been a “what’s next?” kind of person, which is not exactly something to be proud of. But I can’t help it. I love change. I love looking forward to things. I love the feeling of anticipation. Say we’re on vacation eating a wonderful lunch – I’ll already be talking about where we should go for dinner.

Not only do I like looking forward to things – I also like when I can set goals and take the steps to achieve them. For me, the training process for triathlons and big runs was always equally, if not more, enjoyable than actually completing the events. Going to classes and studying for my wine exams were the best part about getting my actual certification.

So, when I started out on this cancer journey I figured chemo was the process I needed to go through to achieve the goal of being healthy and cancer free. I had a concrete number: 6 sessions, and a concrete timeframe: every 3 weeks. Turns out this was faulty thinking because a) chemo is not an enjoyable step towards a goal and b) I have no control over it.

This is what I’ve really been struggling with lately – how out of control I feel about this whole thing. For starters, I have no idea how I even got cancer (twice!). So, no matter how much I take care of myself physically, emotionally and spiritually there’s no guarantee I can stop it from coming back. There’s often a negative voice in my head telling me it doesn’t matter what I do because I have no control over any of it anyway.

I have to give up the need to try to control something I can’t. I have to just accept that cancer is part of my life now. It’s really not as simple as just getting through the chemo so it will all magically be “over”. It won’t be. Avastin will take another year, my hair, eyebrows and eyelashes will still be a mess and I’ll have residual side effects. I’ll have nerve-wracking follow up scans and bloodwork for years to come. I’m truly never going to be the same. Cancer has changed me forever and I have to make peace with that somehow. I have to stop thinking in terms of “what comes next” when this cancer thing is over. I need to be okay with living with it in the NOW, which is not easy. But I’m trying.

It’s looking like I’m going home tonight. That’s earlier than everyone originally thought so this is excellent news! I have to be fever free w/o antibiotics for 24 hours, which should happen by early evening. My counts are still low but acceptable enough to leave – they’ll always be low while I’m going through chemo.

Luckily, I tested negative for strep and flu and a host of other tests they did. So, the running theory is that I caught a virus and wasn’t able to fight is off as I normally would have. It’s pretty common for this kind of thing to happen but I have to laugh whenever they ask “have you been around anyone who is sick?”. Um, I live with a kid whose nose probably hasn’t stopped running for more than a week at a time since she started kindergarten in the fall. And also, aren’t most people contagious even before they’re symptomatic? So…unless you have a bubble for me like that one in the John Travolta movie when I was a kid (now I’m really showing my age) I can only promise to do my best.

I’m truly happy I’ll be home for Easter since it’s such a big deal for J. Who knew kids these days write “Dear Easter Bunny” letters like they do for Santa? When did that become a thing? This Easter will likely be even better than originally planned thanks to the Easter bunny helpers out there. I know who you are but I’m sorry to say, the mythical Easter Bunny will be getting all the credit. If I wasn’t such a procrastinator I would have been done with my Easter shopping before Wed but that’s just not how I roll and it never will be. I learned after several all-nighters in college that I work best under pressure. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. (Thanks to everyone who offered Easter help. I couldn’t accept every offer or we would have had Easter overkill).

Things could have been worse. I was able to have Rick here with me until last night. The nurses were amazing, I received some beautiful flowers, and I read “Where the Crawdads Sing”. Despite the silly name it was quite enjoyable.

Hoping things are uneventful until chemo #4, which will now be 4/30.

A few people have checked in on me lately to make sure I’m ok since I haven’t blogged in a while. Well, I was great…until today.

Now, I’m currently at MGH waiting to be admitted, for what is probably at least a 3 night stay, maybe longer. I am sick and have a fever, which is not good for people going through chemo since I’m immunocompromised. I have a runny nose and I’m exhausted and achey. It is probably just a virus but my white blood cell count is so low I can’t fight it off. I need to be on IV antibiotics.

It’s school vacation week so my parents took Juliette and her cousins away for today and tomorrow. Rick and I had planned a night away at a hotel/spa. It was going to be a 24 hour getaway with the goal of us feeling rested and renewed. Instead, it’ll be MGH for a few nights.

Juliette doesn’t know yet and there’s no need to tell her right away. She’s gonna freak out. I just know she is. I’m just praying I’ll be home by Easter! She still believes in the Easter Bunny and she won’t understand if he doesn’t show up Sunday with a full basket and hide lots of eggs.

So, this is where I’m at right now. I feel like crap and I’m really bummed out. One of my good friends (who recently found out about her second bout with cancer) told me the other day that she admires how positive I am. It was a nice compliment but I assured her that I’m not always positive. There are lots of days where I’m super mad and sad. Today is one of them. I don’t always share those negative feelings. When I’m in a crappy mood I usually retreat and hide it from people. I feel like it won’t do anyone any good to hear me bitch and moan. People like to hear good news. But today, this is all the news I got. A hospital stay and a likely postponement of chemo #4, which was scheduled for Monday 4/22. I don’t know when it will move to. Maybe only a week out if my counts go back up? I was also told I’ll most likely get a neulasta shot with my next 3 chemos. It aids in the generation of white blood cells and rumor has it the bone pain hurts like Hell! This is why I haven’t had it before. But, if it will help my counts and help me stay on schedule I’ll take it!

I could use some prayers and encouragement. Thank you

3 has always been my favorite number. I won something in grade school by choosing the number 3 and it has stuck with me ever since. Lucky #3! And now I associate it with my little triangle nuclear family of 3 (plus dogs). And today, it makes me think of my 3rd chemo treatment. I’m halfway there. I got this. Or, as my funny friend Carolyn P told me “you’ll be sick of hearing ‘you got this’ so I’m going to come up with something else. How about ‘your cancer is gonna be tore up from the floor up’. I love it. She cracks me up!

Anyway, I’m here at MGH getting my treatment now. I’m essentially NED (no evidence of disease) right now so everything they’re doing is meant to try to stop this cancer from ever coming back. I have 3 more rounds of chemo (carboplatin & taxol) left, every 3 weeks – assuming my counts stay on track and things don’t get delayed. Chemo should be done by summer! After chemo I’ll still have 12 more months of Avastin infusions every 3 weeks (but those are not chemo so my hair can start to come back and they’ll only be 30 minutes long). So that’s totally doable.

Aside from the port being slightly uncomfortable and having the metallic taste in my mouth the infusion is not so bad. I’m comfortable in my reclining chair and electric blanket. It’s boring though just sitting here for 6 hours (after 2 hrs of appts and blood work). Rick said it feels like a long flight. It does but a flight that never leaves the freaking ground. It really helps having him here. They gave me less Benadryl this time so I’m not as tired. I tried to listen to a podcast but it was meh and now I’m trying to decide if I should read or eat snacks out of boredom. If we were on a plane I wish I was on my way to St John. We should have been going on April 7 :(.

We did manage to get to NYC this weekend for a fantastic visit with the NY LaRoccas and a celebration of my niece’s 13th birthday. We arrived on Fri for an amazing visit/dinner then split up on Sat. Rick and Juliette had a magical day at the American Girl Doll store and a day in Central Park with his family. I met up with my mom, sister and niece and we had a blast exploring the Statue of Liberty, shopping, visiting the 9/11 memorial and walking for miles upon miles. Then we saw Tina Fay’s amazing Broadway show Mean Girls. We all loved it! We capped off the night at Ellen’s Stardust Lounge for late night snacks and singing servers. I was so grateful to be well enough for such a memorable trip. Cancer can be boring so I love any and all opportunities for adventure.

I was late to the game re: the movie The Greatest Showman. We watched it as a family for the first time this past fall and I loved it! It was a little over Juliette’s head (and she thought there was too much kissing and love stuff…which reminded me of what the little boy says to his grandfather about The Princess Bride – one of my favorite movies). But J and I both loved the music. Her favorite is the song is “A Million Dreams” and mine is “This is Me”. When I first heard it I got chills. It really resonated with me and I wasn’t sure why. I’m obviously not a circus freak and contrary to how I may have felt at various awkward stages of my life, I’ve always looked and acted pretty “normal”.

That is, until now! My own kid was afraid to shower with me the other day. She’s only in kindergarten so not quite ready to shower on her own and baths take forever so this is something we do occasionally. But, she took one look at me naked and scanned my very large scar on my abdomen and my half buzzed/half bald head and politely said “I think I’d rather take a bath”. I told her that was fine and I understood. I assured her that even though I look different and that it might be scary on the inside I’m still the same mommy and she bravely said “OK, I’ll try it”.

So, when I listened to the Greatest Showman soundtrack for the millionth time today I was blown away. “This is me” is my anthem!!! It couldn’t have been back in the fall since I didn’t have cancer (or at least I didn’t know I did). But maybe my feeling when I first heard it was foreshadowing somehow.

Anyway, if you haven’t heard it do yourself a favor and listen to it. I don’t think I can listen to it without crying now. There I go again, happy crying.

“I am brave, I am bruised
This is who I’m meant to be
This is me
Look out cause here I come
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies
This is me”