July 29th — No, my hair is actually blonde (bleach blonde) but that last photo had me wearing an orange shirt in front of an orange wall. My post-chemo hair is brown and curly. Now, it’s streaked blonde and about 1/2 inch all over my head.
Daniel's 6th Birthday Party
July 25th — By the way, here’s a photo of my new haircut and color. I got tired of the brillo pad afro and told my hairstylist to just cut it down to a buzz. She bleached it too so I’m definitely making some sort of statement. I may never go back to hair past my ears if I get too used to this. Of course, if my hair changes texture or thickness and actually lays down when it starts to grow out instead of just bushing out all around my head like a clown I’ll reconsider growing it out. Right now, I’m rocking the funky haircut.
July 26th — Whew! Last week was our first Adventure Cook kids cooking camp. I ended each day aching and sore. It was a good sore because I couldn’t tell if it was related to my anti-cancer regimen or from work-related exhaustion. From the insanity of our weeklong camp, we ended this week with a bowling birthday party for Daniel’s 6th birthday. I made the Star Wars themed cookies he requested instead of buying a store-made cake or cupcakes. When some parents asked if I had made the simple sugar cookies, I must have given them a funny look. One mom laughed and said when you own a cooking business, you feel compelled to make your child’s birthday treats. I have to admit that I would not have felt at all guilty buying a birthday cake. Despite my business goal of introducing children to new foods and avoiding packaged items, both my kids are getting Lunchables for camp this week instead of something homemade and healthy. I am adding grapes to the lunch boxes so there’s a nod to healthy eating. I’m just plain tired right now. Sometimes convenience trumps good nutrition. I’ll blame my current state of exhaustion on the cancer recovery. Might as well use that awful disease for something productive…
July 16th — One of the reasons my oncologist scanned my bones last week was because I’d been having ribcage and back pain, especially when lying down to sleep. Fortunately, my bones were clear of cancer but the bad news is that my discomfort is a drug-related side effect. I can’t really stop the medicine Tamoxifen because it has a good track record of preventing cancer recurrence. In the past when I had trouble sleeping I would take a Tylenol PM. However, that over-the-counter drug has an ingredient that reacts negatively with my Tamoxifen, reducing its cancer-fighting properties. Yesterday, I asked the oncology nurse practitioner for something to help me sleep. She said that regular prescription sleeping aids don’t help with pain relief so gave me Darvacet instead. When I commented to a friend that prescription sleeping medications have a high risk of dependence, she reminded me that instead of a sleeping pill, I now have a narcotic pain reliever. I’m not sure addiction is high on the list of worries oncologists have when prescribing medicine to their patients. As Greg says, once you’re diagnosed with cancer, you can get just about any prescription you want. It’s truly amazing the wide assortment of controlled substances in our medicine cabinet. So, now my catch-22 is that it’s 4:20 in the morning. If I take something now to relieve my pain and help me sleep it will probably make me a zombie for most of Saturday. If I don’t, I’ll be a zombie due to lack of sleep. At least I’m not up at night worrying my discomfort is cancer.
July 15th — Might be anticlimactic after all I’ve been through this year but today was my last infusion! Yay! We threw confetti and the kids got to come up and celebrate. Even better news is my doc checked my bones for anything unusual since I’ve been having trouble sleeping due to back and ribcage pain. I told him if I really had bone metastacies, I would lose my sense of humor about this whole cancer experience. Fortunately, my bones all showed normal physiological activity. I’m officially NED, “no evidence of disease.” It’s a good day. I’ll upload some pics in a few minutes so come back later to the blog to see the latest.
July 9th — I was shocked and saddened to hear that a friend of a friend was diagnosed with breast cancer. Her main concern in her life, after her health, was that her husband would leave her. She had read that 60 percent of marriages in which the wife is diagnosed with breast cancer end in divorce. I couldn’t find that statistic and even found a few studies that showed that marriages with a diagnosis of breast cancer seem less likely to end. As my witty husband has said, he can’t ever leave me because of the stigma. He’d never be able to hold his head up again around any of our friends or family. Is a 60 percent statistic that much more shocking than the oft-quoted 50 percent divorce rate in the US? In looking up these marriage studies, I did find a surprising correlation: both ovarian and testicular cancer diagnoses lead to a disproportionately high divorce rate. The researchers reflected that both diseases occur in young patients and dramatically affect a couple’s sex life, perhaps more than other cancers. During the first ten years of marriage, a couple’s sexuality cements the bonds between them according to these psychologists so if that is disrupted due to illness, perhaps the marriage can’t stand the added stress. Who knows? I think my husband’s recent crazy business travel has had more of an impact on our sex life than my cancer, but that’s another story…
July 2nd — Happy 50th Wedding Anniversary to my parents. We just spent the week in Colorado celebrating this milestone and enjoying the cooler weather. We had a great time but it’s sobering to realize that Greg and I will have to live to age 84 to see our 50th anniversary. As our 10th approaches in October, this past year has made me appreciate the wedding vows of “better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness or in health.” As one friend said about the challenging nature of staying married in an expendable culture, it’s easy to stay married when things are great and money and health are abundant. That’s why the marriage vows list the hard times because those are the moments that test a relationship. Greg and I tried to maintain a dark sense of humor about my illness. This past year whenever something went wrong that wasn’t health-related, I would look at him and say, “at least we have our health…” and we would both laugh at the absurdity of the moment.
June 24th — Could it be? Could the end be in sight? After my treatment today, I only have one or possibly two more Herceptin chemo infusions left in my 15 month breast cancer treatment. Since the last infusion falls during the week Greg and I will be zip lining through the tropical forests of St. Lucia or ordering another round of frothy beachy drinks, I asked my oncologist if I really need to come back from vacation and have my last infusion. He told me a new study shows that six months of Herceptin treatment seems to be as effective a cancer deterrent as my scheduled 12 months. Do I really need these last few infusions? Like just about everything else in cancer world, no one really knows. Maybe like everything else in life, no one really knows. Is my lesson here to put one foot in front of the other, smile at everyone I meet, and get up early to make rosemary-strawberry scones for breakfast? Sounds like a plan.
June 21st — Goodbye and good riddance 43! Tomorrow I turn 44 and have not been more transformed by a year since I was 13. Maybe every year is full of changes and we just don’t know it unless we’re going through puberty or something as transformative as cancer. My body is different, my psyche is different and my perspective is different. Yet, somehow my life seems strangely the same. So the new Amy has to figure out how to make it work in the life the old Amy made. I read a report a few years ago that studied the age most people claim as the most unhappy year. I tortured my friends who were turning 44 that year by revealing to them that universally 44 is the most unhappy year across socioeconomic strata, marital status and career choices. No one really knows why most people claim that year as the most unhappy. I guess I’ll kill those statistics because 44 can only be better than 43! Bring it on 44!
June 20th — Last night I thanked my husband for being so supportive of me during my last awful year of battling breast cancer. He said he really didn’t feel he did that much. He didn’t freak out and he was present during my surgeries and procedures. That was all. Maybe when it comes right down to it, that’s all any of us really needs. If I leave this world early, what better person to take care of my children than a father who is always there? My own Dad is always there for me and has been equally strong and supportive during my journey. He is the voice of rationality in a surreal experience, painting our garage door and hanging a rope swing for the grandkids during one of my folks’ many trips to Austin to take care of me and the kids during chemo. He would entertain the kids by taking them to hardware stores and introducing them to beef sticks that he called, “beef chewing gum.” The kids still call it that, which cracks me up. He was comforting when emotions ran high and calm when the storm would break over the walls. I’ve always been a Daddy’s Girl and at 43, am not about to grow out of it. I’m blessed to have such good fathers and good men in my life: Happy Father’s Day to both the dads in my life. I love you.
