Christmas with a Heavy Heart

It’s tough to go through the Christmas holidays with a heavy heart, especially when you’ve lost someone dear.  

We received word that a family friend passed away, someone I’ve known since I was 11 years old.  We used to live next door to his family, he went to college with my brother,  I’ve watched his little brother and sister grow up from birth, and am close friends with another sister.  Over the years, our families just became intertwined.

Granted, time has put some distance between us, as we’ve grown and had families and lives of our own.  Yet there is always a bond, especially around Christmas.  When we lived next door to each other, we started the tradition of spending Christmas Eve at their house.  Even though we no longer live next door, every Christmas we come home,  we have Christmas Eve with our friends. That included last year.

While we’re reeling from losing a member of this precious family, it hits home a little harder during the Christmas season.  I’m staying home for Christmas this year, but part of me is yearning to be in New Mexico to be with our friends. Yes, I will see them this weekend, when I take this unplanned  journey back home for the memorial service, but I won’t be staying for Christmas Eve.

I know I’m not the only struggling through the grieving process right now. Another dear friend of mine lost her father about a month ago. Getting through this first holiday without him has to be difficult for her.

And I can't help but remember our Christmas from 18 years ago.  We lost my (step) nephew in a car accident, and nearly lost his mother.  My nephew was 7 years old, and it was 4 days before Christmas. His funeral was Christmas Eve.  I don’t know how my brother got through that time. 

As I think through all of this, I’m learning that while it’s difficult to celebrate Christmas with a heavy heart, I ask what our deceased loved ones would want us to do. I believe they’d want us to move forward, carry on, and continue our Christmas traditions.

I think my other nephew, who was 6 at the time of his brother’s passing, said it best on that awful Christmas when we lost his brother.  He said that he thought our nephew was having the best Christmas ever, because he was celebrating with Jesus!

Out of the mouths of babes…

While we miss our family and friends who aren’t with us right now, are feel their absence deeply, I know they are celebrating with Jesus. 

We must look upon Christmas not just as something we have to get through this year. We need to remember that  Christmas celebrates Jesus’ birth.  And in my mind that means: Christmas is hope.  

Personally, as I grieve the loss of my old friend, and recall 37 years of memories with his family, I know I must cling to the hope that Jesus’ birth brings. I will cling to that tightly as I hug my friend’s sister when I see her in a few days. 

We must have that hope to carry us through…and celebrate Jesus’ life, and the lives of those we love, more than ever.

What now?

Obviously, since I haven't posted in a while, I'm not sure what to do with this blog any more.  I've talked a lot about my cancer experiences, and hopefully shared how faith, family and friends get you through that. I had a whole list of things to discuss on this blog, and you know what? I don't want to talk about cancer anymore!  At least not right now.

I'm tired of cancer.  It's been too big in my life, and now that I'm past all surgeries and all treatment, I want to put cancer in the past, too. I want to go back to being normal again. 

But what is normal?  The tag-line on this blog says "Living After Cancer - the New Normal." Well, that's true, this is a new normal.  Cancer changed everything, whether I want to admit that or not.  But I just don't want it to dominate my entire life.

I'm very proud to be a survivor.  I love to encourage and give hope to others who are struggling with this awful disease or who have friends or family members in the midst of it.  But I've never been one to go to these fundraisers or 5K runs, and wrap a pink feather boa around myself indicating that I'm a survivor.  Please don't get me wrong.  There's nothing wrong about survivors proudly proclaiming that we're still here.  We should!

I just don't want to think about this disease every single day.  It may have changed me...and changed me more than my physical appearance, but it won't define me.  Again, I don't want to trivialize survivorship. Believe me, every day I look in the mirror, I see that I had cancer.  And my scars are a symbol of surviving.  However, my life is much more than “I had cancer.”

I don't want to think about it anymore.  I want other things to dominate my life. Key words: my life. (not my cancer).  That life should be focused on my wonderful husband, fantastic kids, cheering on my daughter as she goes to graduate school, preparing for my son's spring wedding in 2012...there's so much more going on in my life.  Cancer isn't here anymore.  Life is here!

Now I want to be a "normal" woman, whose biggest worry is complaining about her weight!

It’s time for life.

Reflections: A New Path Before Me

I'm in a reflective mood this morning.  Not surprising given this time of year.  First of all, my birthday is coming up.  Second, my 30th high school reunion is a few days after my birthday.  Nothing like ramming it home that a lot of time has passed since those high school days!  :) 

Seems like July is the month where dramatic things happen to me.  A few days before my 20th birthday I was in a serious motorcycle accident.  This caused the first of the many scars on my body to appear.  But I'm still here and kickin'...

More recently, obviously, I'm reflecting on this time two years ago.  This was when I went in for my six-month mammogram... it was right after my five year mark from my first go round with cancer. I had been on every six-month visits til then, and this was actually my "graduation" mammogram where I'd finally be able to go back to yearly visits.  So, I went into that mammogram, feeling good, feeling thankful, and excited about life returning to "normal." 

As we all know...there's no such thing as "normal."  The words from my doctor still echo in my head: "I see something..."  Sure enough, there was "something" there, and cancer had reared its ugly head one more time in my body.  Cancer wasn't visible on my January mammogram, but by July, there it was.  Thank God for those every-six-month visits...I can't imagine if I had already been back to yearly mammograms at the point.

Unfortunately, this was a different cancer than the first one I had, yet still in my breast. I don't know what was scarier...cancer returning again, or the fact that it was a new cancer and not a recurrence from five years previous.  It didn't matter...my world shifted that day.... a new path was before me and the word "normal" changed once again.

The day after that mammogram, we had the biopsy.  Two days later was my birthday.  Here's a picture of my hubby and me on my birthday.

I love this picture.  But I see so much in it because of everything that was going on.  I remember being very determined to still have a wonderful birthday.  We already had plans that day, and nothing, not even a fresh cancer diagnosis was going to change our plans.  And we had a wonderful time that day, celebrating with family and friends!

Besides determination, though, I also see the fear in my eyes...knowing that our path had indeed shifted and we were on a new road.  I didn't know what was before me yet, only that I had cancer again, and that I would have to have a mastectomy, but we didn't know anything else: had it spread? Would I need chemotherapy? What else was involved?  So many unanswered questions, and a tough road, were waiting for us.

Now, two years later, another thing strikes me about this picture...my husband and I together.  That bond he and I share is precious (I thank God for it every day!), and over the past two years, we've clung to each other like that and leaned on each other, gone through the rough times, but have celebrated MANY happy times! Praise God!

So, here I sit, another birthday before me, my 2-year anniversary of being cancer free comes next month, and I'm recuperating from the final stage of my reconstructive surgery.  (It took me a long time to decide to do that).  In a way, we're back to a new path being before us.  We're gradually closing the door on this particular cancer journey.  I'm healthy, reconstructed (LOL), and now face life without cancer being in my vocabulary every single day.

But, you know what, I'll do the same thing I did two years ago:  celebrate my birthday with family and friends, cling sweetly to my husband, and step on the new path that is now before me.

Doctor Changes

Well, I just found out that my cancer doctor is moving out of state.  Her office called the other day to re-schedule my July appointment to June so I could see her one more time before she moves.

While I'm happy for her that she's moving closer to family and will no doubt have a great new opportunity to pursue, my first thought was very selfish:  NO -- DON'T LEAVE ME!!

I don't "hero-worship" my doctors, however, you do develop a bond with them as you go along this journey of cancer and recovery. My doctor did life-altering and physical-changing surgery on me.  Yes, surgery that saved my life, but changed me forever.  This doctor had to provide a balance of providing me hope and encouragement while remaining professional and clinical. This is something she did very well.

So, what's next?  As far as my health, this final appointment with the doctor was the last of my "every 3-months" visits, and I was going to graduate to every 6-months.  So, I guess her leaving comes at a pretty good transition time.  I have an MRI scheduled for next week, so that will start the new doctor off with fresh images and information for me.

I'm sure my current doctor will recommend a new doctor for me. But I think I still need to be vigilant and do some research on my own for other doctors in the area, while throwing her recommendation into the mix as well.

I had a rare and unusual cancer, so I'd like a doctor who's at least had some experience with that. And a doctor who is open to new research and new treatments. Not one completely stuck in his/her ways...not willing to look at anything else as far as treatment goes. 

Right now, as heartbroken...and admittedly...a bit scared as I am, I'm praying that this is a new opportunity for both my doctor, and for me with a new physician.  I have to trust that God has a plan for a new doctor and that I'll be placed with the right one.  Overall, I just hope I stay healthy and that eventually, the only doctor I'll need is my family physician! :)

So, for now, I salute Dr. S, and wish her nothing but the best (even though my insides are still screaming not to leave me!), and I look forward to whatever a new doctor can contribute to my ongoing good health and recovery.

Onward we go....