September 9, 2011 — Yesterday, Greg brought a letter into the bathroom where I was running a bath for 7-year-old Daniel. Greg said, “I thought I’d better hand deliver this letter,” in an ominous tone. It was a welcome letter from AARP. For some reason, that organization thinks I’m 50. For the low cost of $16, I could activate my membership and have all sorts of benefits. Greg assumed I’d be offended and throw away the letter. Instead, I wondered if the senior citizen discounts might be worth the membership!

August 25, 2011 — My date with Destiny went well…how many people can say that? Aren’t “dates with destiny” usually death and destruction types of meetings? Destiny is the nurse practitioner who works with my oncologist. I seem to be No Evidence of Disease (NED) still. Destiny asked how I was feeling and we spent most of the exam discussing some eczema on my face and what cream to put on the dry skin. One of the nurses in the San Antonio vaccine trial had told me a few months ago that she used to work with an oncology nurse practitioner named Destiny who was a transgendered person. The nurse couldn’t remember if it were a man moving to a woman or visa versa. How many oncology nurse practitioners named Destiny can there be in Texas? So, I couldn’t wait to meet Dr. K’s Destiny to see if I could tell if she had once been a man. I spent a lot of time looking carefully for an Adam’s apple and razor stubble but our Destiny seems to be a woman who was born a woman. That made my trip to the oncologist rather interesting. I’d rather wonder about the gender of my medical practitioner than wonder if my cancer has returned.

August 11, 2011 — My brother sent me an article a few months ago detailing how the short term memory loss and imprecise logic of “chemobrain” can last five years. I had a vivid reminder of my persistent fuzzy brain the other day at the bank. I had driven through to deposit a check. I wrote our account number on the form as well as sent in my identification. The teller told me she was having trouble finding our account and had to ask several security questions to process my transaction. Finally, I received my forms and id back from the teller and discovered I had transposed several numbers in the account number and sent in my library card instead of my driver’s license as id. Sigh.

August 8, 2011 — This weekend, the family cuddled on the sofa and watched a movie together. At one point I got up to adjust the air conditioner to make it colder, and Greg said, “oh good, raise it up a degree or so.” I turned to my family and noticed them all huddled under blankets and asked, “really? are you cold? I’m so hot!” All three of them said, “yes! it’s cold in here already!” Sigh. Pretty funny considering Greg used to tease me that I put on a sweater once the temperature drops below 70.

July 25, 2011 — Today while receiving my monthly Zoladex shot to the stomach, I had an interesting chat with my infusion nurse and friend, the lovely Rachel. I mentioned how hard it is to reconcile my Stage 3 diagnosis with a potentially long life in the wee hours of the night when I wake up and walk the house watching my children sleep. If women with Stage 1 breast cancer recur and metastasize, how could I outlive them? Rachel said that usually it’s because women just don’t respond well to the initial chemo, due to their individual body chemistry or the nature of the cancer itself or some other unknown reason. That’s why there’s such a high rate of recurrence within the first three years. The cancer might have been beaten down by the treatment, but it never really went away. When I told her I look at my children and try to calculate how long I would live if I recurred today or tomorrow or in a year, Rachel said she treats Stage 4 women who have been NED (no evidence of disease) for five years. She also waived aside my concerns by reminding me that I’m Her2Neu positive. She said she has women on a new drug that feeds thru that receptor who have been alive for ten years. There are already drugs and treatments for metastasized breast cancer that weren’t available when I had the disease two years ago. Of course, there’s also the fact that the initial treatment might have really cured my cancer. As Greg likes to say, “as of April 16, 2009 (the date of my double mastectomy), the surgeon cut the tumors from your body and you were cancer-free.” Five years, ten years…I’ll take that. Best of all, I might never recur and live to be 97 like my grandfather.

July 24, 2011 — Happy Birthday my baby boy! I always thought I would be a bit sad as the kids got older, leaving behind their adorable baby years. Daniel is seven and Sara is nine! That seems so old to me and I’m thrilled, not sad at all! Maybe that’s one of the benefits that comes from my cancer experience — I want the kids to grow up in my lifetime so am delighted with each birthday. More memories, more experiences, more time with them. Give them wings. Let them fly.

July 21, 2011 — I went to my dentist for the first time since 2008. The dental hygienist was about to chastise me for my long check-up delay until I told her I was diagnosed with cancer in 2009 and have been a bit busy with other health concerns since then. Upon cleaning my teeth, she commented that I look more like someone who just saw the dentist six months ago. She said she was jealous of my nice strong and white teeth. I reminded her that while I have good teeth, I also had cancer. I’d rather have cavities. My dentist came in to examine my teeth and told me he was also a survivor — of colon cancer three years ago. Upon bemoaning the exclusive club we both joined with our cancer diagnoses, we discovered that we share an oncologist. Small world. There’s something remarkably touching about chatting with a fellow survivor. We understand how awful each other’s experience was in a way few folks can really know. Cure this damned disease.

July 18, 2011 — Today United Healthcare sent me a friendly reminder to get a mammogram. They’ve spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on my breast cancer treatment and I still get the mammogram flyer? Seemed kinda funny to me but I’ve always had a strange sense of humor.

July 2, 2011 — I’ve always wanted to be a bleach blonde. Not just highlights, but all over light light blonde. I don’t even mind that it looks fake — that’s part of the kitch appeal of the bleach blonde hairdo in my eyes. So, after my last trip to Bird’s Barbershop resulted in a short almost-crewcut for the summer, I decided to blonde it. Unfortunately, the first at-home attempt turned out a bit frightening. When Greg saw it, he asked, “why exactly did you decide to do this?” To which I replied, “I’ve always wanted to be like Pink the Rock Star.” Greg’s incorrect response to that was, “but you are not a 25 year old rock star.” I told him I didn’t think that comment was something any man should ever tell his wife! But, perhaps we women of a certain age need someone to tell us we’re no longer 25! I toned the hair a bit and am quite satisfied with my cool summer do. Greg texted me, “if u r happy, I’m happy,” when I told him at work that I liked the modified blonde color. A friend of Greg’s came over the other night and asked Sara about the streak of temporary hot pink in her hair. Sara immediately pointed him to her mother if he was curious about unusual hair color. Greg’s friend said, “Amy’s hair has never looked the same two times in a row — different cut, different color, so I’m used to it by now.” Seriously, I’ve been everywhere from waist-length to bald in my lifetime. Perms, straight, cropped bobs, Farrah Fawcett hot roller curls. Does that mean I’m not afraid of change? Or perhaps I’m never happy with the status quo?

June 22, 2011 — A friend told me her 45th birthday was hard for her and wondered if this day would be difficult for me. She felt the weight of middle-age on her and was emotional all day a few months ago. I didn’t even pause to think about it but replied, “I don’t think any birthday I ever have will be hard for me.”