Will I Be Old? (one day baby?)

will I grow old with my beloved?

 What am I thinking right now...? Last time I wrote, I was about 1 week post-op and all I could think about was my wonky eye. I was still on heavy pain killers and embracing the need for a slow yet steady recovery from a pretty big operation. The incision is healed. I still have deep pain (not from the actual cut) and I'm keeping it under control but way down from 4 Percocets to only 1 at night, before bed.

I've prided myself on being strong and healthy my whole life; as a child, rarely missed a day of school for illness. Even when I was in the thick of chemotherapy, nonexistant immune system, I still (thank G-d) managed to avoid fever, infection, and illness. Now I find myself feeling vulnerable and fragile for the very first time in my life. The list isn't short. Emotionally, I know I have active cancerous tumors in my body including my liver. Walking around with (currently untreated) cancer is beginning to FREAK me out! Now, I look strange too... with my wonky right eye. Yesterday, I started getting sick - perhaps it's "just the flu" however it feels like Death's Door (G-d forbid!); blocked sinuses, coughing, dizziness, weakness... If it weren't for the cancer, I'd probably climb into bed, sip some hot tea, and be cured in 7-10 days like all the other millions of people who get the flu in the winter. Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket. Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them....

Not me.

I don't DO sick.

Yes, I'm aware of the irony.

On the way to Terem (walk in emergency room) to have a routine chest X-ray for my surgical follow-up, with my mom driving me, we were rear-ended by a driver who wasn't paying attention. The impact felt like a truck hit us... to me. My mom said it wasn't so horrendous. I can feel it now, close to 2 hours later, deep pain beneath my ribs, on the right side, and lower back. Believe me, this wouldn't have phased me a couple of years ago. Here I go again the blame. The guilt, the pain, the hurt, the shame. The founding fathers of our plane. That's stuck in heavy clouds of rain.

I'm scared.

I'm sooooooo scared. No, not about the flu or the fender bender. I'm scared about my life. A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar. They're worth so much more after I'm a goner. And maybe then you'll hear the words I've been singing....

These are the songs that are haunting me right now... the first one is beautiful and touching yet so very sad - makes me cry just listening to the lyrics. The ballad of a dove. Go with peace and love....

The second one... the chorus just keeps replaying in my head. Since my diagnosis in July, 2012, it's been emotionally difficult for me to see pregnant mommas, newborns, babies.... now I'm so over and beyond that. You know what cuts my heart up today??? Seeing elderly couples together. Just now, in Terem, I watched an elderly man of around late 70's or early 80's with his similarly aged wife. He held her purse for her and got her a cup of water as they waited her turn for ultrasound or X-ray. Will that be me and David someday? Is it possible? One day baby, we'll be old, Oh baby, we'll be old. And think of all the stories that we could have told

Patience is a Virtue - *wink* *wink*

1 week after surgery selfie

The good news is, the surgery went well and I'm recovering. The goal of the surgery was to remove a cancerous lymph node from my mediastinum - between my right bronchus and my heart. The surgeons successfully removed the 2 cm mass and a second smaller mass was discovered and removed from my diaphragm. The cancerous cells were then handed off to a private company called,  Champions Oncology, in collaboration with Johns Hopkins, to be grafted into mice, and studied in order to develop a treatment for me. That's VERY good news to begin with. It will take about 6-8 weeks to know whether the tumors are growing successfully in the mice and a total of 14-16 weeks until we know more about the treatment plan and schedule. This surgery was NOT the treatment in any way. There are at least 2 or 3 tumors, that we know of, in my liver, chest, and abdomen. Surgery is not the treatment, it's (hopefully) the key to beginning my treatment.

The experience was overall a very positive one. The care I receive at Shaare Zedek Medical Center continues to be excellent. Every member of the staff; surgeons, doctors and nurses, technicians, volunteers, and everyone in between showed care, professionalism, and kindness. A thoracotomy is a pretty big procedure. My right lung needed to be partially collapsed for the surgery. The incision is along my 6th rib. Before being put to sleep, I had a high epidural inserted for pain control after the surgery. When I awoke, I had a lot of tubes and wires to get tangled up in including a chest tube. The first two days after surgery felt surreal. Now that I'm back home and slowly coming off of painkillers, I can really reflect on how many fairly large things I should never take for granted again... like being able to breathe or roll over unassisted.

One of the first thing I noticed, when I woke up from the operation, was my right eye. It didn't feel right. With each day that passed, it became annoyingly apparent that the "eye thing" wasn't going away. There are many many possibilities for complications during thoracic surgery. Unfortunately nerve damage is one of them. I don't know if this is permanent but it might be. The lower right half of my face was already numb from a surgery I had in 2011. I didn't know that  Horner's Syndrome was a possible complication but it is and it's done. My right eyelid droops, the right pupil is constricted, and supposedly the right side of my face no longer has the ability to sweat. With all this cancer stuff going on, you'd think a little droopiness of the eye would be silliness but we are all taking it very seriously. Personally, it's all I think about every waking second because it's very bothersome. I'm almost 100% sure that I would have done it, no matter what, in spite of  this highly irritating yet non-threatening complication. If we come up with a successful treatment plan- THIS was my best option and I suppose Horner's Syndrome is a small price to pay.

The bad news is, patience is a virtue that we don't always have the time for.... *sigh* One breath at time.

The Other Side

Tomorrow is the Big Day. Surgery to remove a tumor from my right lung. It's not a treatment; it's to hopefully create a treatment.

My oncologist has coordinated with both a thoracic surgeon and private company that will attempt to graft my tumor into mice. We hope that they will be able to pinpoint and treat the mice with specially tailored chemotherapy drugs that will be just right to kill off the type of cancer that I have.

My anxiety level is through the roof right now! It's not the hugest surgery but it's a pretty big surgery. I probably just ran my last 10 K for a while... Though I really hope my recovery from this will be speedy and I'll be out there running again soon!

I'm being hospitalized this evening. My parents are coming to be here for the kids, my DH, and me. My family and friends are gearing up....

Please pray for me. Pray for the success of the doctors, surgeons, scientists... And the mice.

See y'all on the Other Side!

What Can I Say?

If you are a person with a lot of faith, you'd say that I'm being put through quite a "test". Many people who love and care about me keep reminding me that I'm "a warrior" and a "fighter". What else can you say? If you're in the age range of social media usage and text lingo the only "word" to describe it is, WTF?!? ...Because I have officially run out of answers. Perhaps that's the test? To have many questions, no answers, and only miracles. I'm holding onto everyone's prayers, tehillim (psalms), and just... hoping.

I need some miracles. Let's pray that the Almighty Above says, "YES!" to our prayers. Metastatic cancer in the liver and lung isn't good. I'm scared because I don't want to lose my hope. In my somewhat short life of 38 years, I've never felt so close to drowning as I do now. For two whole days, I was lost beyond return. What's going to happen??? Nobody can answer me. We are trying to find reasons to feel hopeful about a bad situation now.

I feel physically healthy and strong enough to go out on 10 KM runs every other day... so how can I have stage 4 cancer? It doesn't make sense. I know, I'm supposed to enjoy every moment that I have now and hope for the best. Hope that we can create a treatment that will work.

This week, I'm having surgery to try to remove a tumor in my lung and have pieces of the tumor grafted into mice. Personalized oncology, designer chemotherapy... whatever you want to call it. I need this to work but we won't know for a few months. Those mice are going to have to travel to the United States and hopefully they'll stay alive for a very long time with some successful chemo drugs!

For now, just keeping things real... and trying to keep on moving forward.

Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a young maiden who wanted nothing more in the world than to be a free spirited wife and mother. She felt free because she had already satisfied her hunger for action in her country's army and her hunger for learning medical things  in the best schools. She didn't know how long she would have to work and she hoped she would soon meet the man of her dreams, marry, and have enough children to fill many shoes. And she did.

Many years went by. They were hard times and good times but mostly years of prosperity. One day a terrible thing happened and the young mother became gravely ill. A terrible spell had been put on the woman and everyone feared that she would soon die. The entire town came together, determined to save her. Her husband gathered their friends and family and soon word spread across the world. Many people prayed. The best doctors came to her bedside. No expense was spared. Many months passed and soon she appeared to be getting well again. Before the year was up, people noticed how healthy and strong, the once ill, woman had become. Many thought she was cured. Few people worried that the illness would return.

Until one dark day. The woman didn't feel like herself. With every week and every month that passed, the woman's fears mounted until it was impossible to disagree that the terrible illness that had nearly killed her mere months ago was in full force yet again. Only this time it wasn't quite the same. This time it was hiding in places no one could have guessed. This time no one knew what to do.

The woman went home to wait. All of her friends and family stood vigil at her side. The best doctors came to decide on a spell. But still nobody knew what to do. There were many ideas. Minute to minute. Hour to hour. Day to day. Week to week. Time only seemed to stand still for the woman but really time had sped up... And was spinning out of control. She became so dizzy that she didn't know what to do or say or how to be. The spinning spun her so hard that she soon fell to the ground and couldn't get up.

The end

Rip the Bandage Off Quickly

Everybody is waiting for news. I've been public, open, honest and it's a two-sided situation. It's therapeutic for me. It saves me emotional energy because people, who want to know, can read my updates and I don't have the need to go into detail each time I see people. My immediate family also reap comfort from being able to share and inform their friends and neighbors without personally going into detailed conversations about my situation everywhere they go.

Good news is the easiest to share. A brief hurray on Facebook is completely acceptable. Sharing bad news is extremely difficult. I'm worried about how the recipient is going to cope, react. It's horrible to see tears and pain that my situation is inflicting on everyone around me.

I think the best way - maybe - is to just rip the bandage off quickly and get it over with. Short, factual and to the point. I received the news from my PET CT scan today. There's a cancerous tumor in my lung and another cancerous tumor deep inside my liver. They are both small tumors that couldn't be seen on a regular CT scan. I will need treatment.

What this means is that the cancer is more advanced. It's stage 4. We need time to absorb and internalize this very shocking and bad news. I don't have any other information right now so the one thing I would ask of people is to please not ask me or my family questions about treatment plans because we don't know yet. I'm in the hands of the most caring and devoted doctors. We have time to make plans and hopefully come up with the best treatment options available in the world.

For those who know us and see our kids... please don't ask them any questions about me. No sad faces please. That's my only request at this time.

Thank you for you support, love, and prayers! I need them now, more than ever!

Please pray for Erika bat Chava Ehta. (name update: Ahava Emunah bat Chava Ehta)

Shabbat shalom - may we all have a peaceful Sabbath.

One Foot in Front of the Other

It snowed in Jerusalem! It was probably the biggest snow storm in 20 years! We didn't get any snow where I live so I was especially enchanted by our drive up the Ein Karem mountains to Shaare Zedek Medical Center in Jerusalem today. While the sun was shinning, beautiful white snow was still frozen and covering much of the hills and was piled high on either side of the roads.

We (my whole family and I) have been waiting for this day to come... the day of answers. The day where we would receive, The Plan. I was hoping that today we'd get some kind of black and white protocol plan for treatment, "the cure for recurrent Ovarian Cancer" but then we got there and quickly realized that the cure is still being made. I may or may not be a candidate for a phase 2 clinical trial drug that could potentially save my life. I may or may not choose to go for a risky and complicated yet aggressive procedure that is still too experimental to prove itself worth the huge risks it also offers. I may or may not choose to wait patiently while enjoying a respite from chemotherapy and enjoy my currently good quality of life until the cancer grows enough "out of control" to mandate immediate treatment. Which option would you hope for?

So, today, no plan for treatment (yet). No answers (yet). HOWEVER... we are planning and my oncologist is making sure we research every possibility before we make a treatment decision and plan. So, that means more meetings with more experts. A PET CT scan. AND lots and lots of hope and prayers.

I'm a runner. I'm a take-action-fast-kind-of-person so this is rough for me. I'm not great at waiting patiently but I'm doing my best. One day at a time, one step at a time. One foot in front of the other.

Messed Up

I thought that being diagnosed with stage 3 ovarian cancer was my worst nightmare but no. THIS is worse. I'm only waking up to my worst nightmare right now. Maybe I was trying to deliver the news painlessly; sugar coat it. Seriously, I'm not THAT important. I might have been too vague because, Ping Pong, is a really idiotic title for a blog post about cancer recurrence... and followed with a cheerful ditty about the rain. Why didn't anybody tell me???

Wake up Erika!!!
Somebody slap me.
Shake me.
Poke me with a needle.
Because... this is no laughing matter!!! I always smile. That's just how my face was made.
On the inside, I'm retching. I'm clawing my eyeballs out. I'm scraping off my own skin.
I'm going out of my mind.

I was supposed to be cured of cancer -  and I believed it with ALL my heart and soul. I kicked cancer! I'm a Survivor. A Warrior.

But no. I didn't beat it. It's still there. I had no idea. No clue. Well, yes I did but no I didn't.

I have cancer. I had cancer and then it was supposedly gone but it was never gone! It was always still there!

I had a very successful surgery but the chemotherapy didn't work. All that poison, feeling sick, baldness, celebration was a bit premature.
The cancer never went away but now it's NOT treatable by "just cutting it out". Now, I need another kind of chemotherapy. This time around, we're going to have to wait and see if the chemo can kill the cancer that I actually have. It's a whole different game.

I'm so frustrated and scared.
It's messed up. Cancer is horrible. I KNOW I should live, live, live for the now because who knows what tomorrow will bring and life is fragile when you least expect it... BUT cancer is a killer and it can kill me. I just don't know what's going to happen and that anxiety and anticipation is one of the worst feelings that I've ever felt.
EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY.  Even if I have to die.
I might die because cancer kills people sometimes....

It's just messed up.

News Flash! It's Raining!

We interrupt our normal broadcast with this edge-of-your-seat news from Israel: IT'S RAINING! It's not often that we Israelites have opportunity to break out our scarves, coats, boots, and umbrellas. In Israel, "freezing" is defined by anything below 60 degrees Fahrenheit (15*C) and as soon as the first storm hits the Mediterranean the country literally shuts down. The roads flood. Trees fall over. Last winter, there were reports of people floating down a main artery  in rubber dinghies to bypass a blocked highway in the Tel Aviv area. Like many things, people love to comment on the weather. Israel mainly has two climates; seasonably hot and unseasonably hot. Occasionally we're blessed with some rain and cold though it usually only lasts for a day or a few. Rarely, we get snow below the Hermon and Golan Heights, and that is truly cause for mass celebration especially for school-aged children, who get a snow-cation because obviously the roads and transportation, schools, and everything else completely shut down when it snows here.

I am elated. Cold. A bit damp. Somewhat worried about some dripping from my attic/roof but really REALLY happy!

How nice to have a break from nuclear threat from Iran and terror in Gaza, bills that need paying, and, of course, cancer... because all anyone is talking about is the rain and the cold and it's wonderful! On the 8:00 am news, I heard about a fallen tree blocking a main road and wreaking terrible havoc on the morning commuters. All the headlines were weather related and there's already 15 centimeters of snow on Mt. Hermon in the north! The kids are delighted to be opening and closing their umbrellas and jumping from spot to spot to avoid the mud and puddles on the way to the car and I feel happy.

I know that weather is no joke... G-d forbid anyone should experience anything disastrous, and I know that exists... but Israel's "winter" weather is benign and glorious and I'm enjoying the excitement that won't last for too long and the free car-wash and desperately needed water for the whole country.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could just talk about the weather?

Ping Pong

I celebrated my 38th birthday on November 28. The day before my birthday, I had a routine check up at the Noga Clinic at Shaare Zedek Medical Center in Jerusalem. This is a relatively new routine for me and while you might think it sounds like an unpleasant one, the set up of the Noga Clinic, run by, Dr. Pnina Mor, makes everything easier. The Noga Clinic was established to help monitor healthy women who carry a BRCA mutation and hopefully prevent cancer with early detection and close monitoring of breast and ovarian health. They organize all the appointments for you on one day whether it be with surgeons, MRI, mammogram, ultrasound, blood-work. They don't keep you waiting, they explain everything step by step, and hold your hand through the emotional and scary parts too. Dr. Mor is definitely one of the most caring and dedicated medical professionals I've met on my journey and I'm so lucky to have her on my team!

I've been monitored with regular check ups and CTs and in July, some minimal fluid showed up on the scan and it was still there in October but everything else pointed to good things and my medical team agreed to keep monitoring with regular CTs and check ups. My appointment at Noga was completely routine, scheduled back in May. When it came to doing the ultrasound of my abdomen, it became clear that there was more fluid and possibly a mass. That was the day before my birthday. Terrified but still optimistic, we scheduled a biopsy. In short, they use a giant needle, about a foot long... there was no pain medication or numbing - none. That test, which drained close to a half liter of fluid from my pelvis, was probably the most traumatic moment of my life! ...And then you wait. One day and another day. It was Chanukkah so we did Chanukkah things. We did crafts, we baked, we lit candles, we unwrapped gifts, we went to the beach, and we had fun with family. We had Thanksgiving with dear friends. We celebrated my parents' 42nd wedding anniversary, my dad's birthday, my brother's birthday, my birthday and David and my 13th wedding anniversary.  It was a wonderful holiday despite the anxiety and anticipation.

Finally, the day arrived. That's today. Finally, I know and I can relax... sort of. The waiting is one of the worst parts. I have a horrendous game of ping pong in my head. I'm fine. I'm not fine. I'm fine. I'm not fine. Waking up in the middle of the night with a heart pumping out of my chest, sweat drenched, and panicking. My beloved husband and I grabbing onto those final moments before finally getting news. I love my oncologist, Professor Cherny. He's more than a top physician and practitioner on the cutting edge; he's a man with a heart of gold who cares and makes me feel like I'm his #1 patient. Prof. Cherny is the one who held onto my hand after telling me that the biopsy came back positive for active cancer and looked into my blurry eyes and reassured me that there's still more treatment and I believe him. I believe I'm getting the best possible care and I just have to hang onto the hope that I can still be cured. I'm fine. I'm not fine. I'm fine. I'm not fine. I still have cancer. I'm not cured and I'm not fine with that. I have cancer. This is my life.

That's all we know. I need more treatment. More chemo. My medical team will come up with the best possible protocol. For now we wait.

Thankful

Happy Hannukah! Happy Thanksgiving! ...and happy birthday to me AND happy 13th anniversary to my beloved husband and me!

Today, I'm so thankful to be alive and blessed with so many special people in my life!

I've had some ups and downs lately and there certainly is reason for plenty tears and it's okay to feel those feelings! The thing about cancer that actually makes it a blessing (yes, I actually said that)... Is that it makes you realize how VERY lucky you are to be alive. Period. Cancer gave me that eternal gift. I'll never take life for granted again.

It does truly stink, for lack of a better word, that we cancer survivors are on constant alert for more cancer. For relapse. For recurrence. I think it's even worse for our loved ones. Today I'm MOST thankful for all of the people, near and far, who are a part of my life, who support me, who love me, and who will G-d willing be around to celebrate many more happy occasions together!

Goodbye Star

If ever I had a doubt about the power of prayer, from this day forward I can never doubt again. In my real life, I have seen miracles performed and I've witnessed the efficacy of prayer even beyond it's desired duration. Her name means, star, in Latin and her ability to shine effortlessly both in health (as I'm told) and in sickness (as I know to be a fact) is only one of the things that makes Stella so special.

As I write this, with an aching heart, Stella lies in her bed, at home, neither in this world or the next. The beloved wife, cherished young mother, treasured friend, and admired woman that is Stella slipped into a coma after a courageous and miraculous dance with the beast that is Cancer. I can call it a dance because as I see it, Stella is not the type of person to raise a voice let alone a fist. Stella seems to gracefully dance away from the aggressive cancer that  is destined to eventually end her life. Without any reason that any of us can comprehend or accept, Stella's physical body continues to dance a now macabre and torturous Waltz with the beast that has left her ravished and unable to live on this earth.

As documented in Stella's best friend and beloved husband, Yarden's, blog, Crossing The Yarden, Stella's journey is abundant with miracles that cannot be explained by doctors or scientists. Now, Yarden has asked that we stop praying for miracles. It's time for each and everyone who knows Stella to say goodbye and make peace with the fact that we've all been blessed to witness the many miracles that Stella showed us but our prayers for more miracles are perhaps too bold and brass and the time has come to make peace and let go. There is no valor in keeping Stella here, on earth any longer. It's time to pray for G-d's mercy on Stella who lived a life of grace, elegance, and clarity and deserves to cross over to eternal paradise that is the World to Come.

I met Stella just over a year ago. I'd been introduced to Yarden's blog and read every post and taken both inspiration and hope from their journey. One morning, while waiting for my chemotherapy treatment to begin, Yarden and Stella walked into oncology ward. I jumped out of my chair when Stella walked by and approached her like I was meeting a celebrity with a big, "Hi Stella! I'm Erika...." and Stella beamed at me with her bright smile and answered, "You're Erika! It's nice to meet you." and we hugged. After that I just felt very connected and drawn to her. We had chemotherapy on the same day and one of the few things I actually looked forward to at the oncology ward was seeing Stella. Surely Stella had already been through so much more than I had and yet she stood so upright and smiled so radiantly. Stella spoke strongly yet softly, clearly yet serenely. Stella never said a negative thing. I never saw her grimace in the "Chemo Lounge" and never heard her utter a moan or a complaint. When we corresponded, Stella always encouraged me and I took her every word to heart. If Stella could do it than I was inspired and reassured that I could do it too... and I knew she'd suffered way worse things than I.

I cherished our visits together at Yarden and Stella's home in Neve Daniel. At some point, it became apparent that the miracles were coming to an end. After a visit, I didn't know if I'd get to see Stella again and that had to be okay. Even at our last visit, not that long ago, Stella's words were encouraging and words I will never let go of. Even as I come to terms with the end of her dance and the end of her journey. I wonder, if the pain in my heart is only a fraction of the pain her devoted family, her best friend and husband must be feeling, how can they continue to endure what is beyond excruciating and torturous? There are no words....

When is it okay to stop praying for miracles? When is it okay to ask for G-d's mercy... and pray for Him to take Stella up into His eternal arms? I truly believe that that time has come, if not weeks ago, than surely now. Please take a moment to say goodbye to a star that shines so brightly, she refuses to fade out. No one wants to say goodbye but the prayers of thousands miraculously kept Stella on earth beyond any imaginable timeline. It's time to pray for mercy. A woman of such valor and grace deserves our prayers.... not for miracles this time but for peace and for the miracles to fade away. Please L-rd, our G-d, Ruler of the universe embrace Stella and carry her to Heaven. Amen.

UPDATE: early this morning, November 14 at 4:50 am, Stella went to eternal paradise that we call, Heaven. May G-d comfort her family among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem and may they know no more sorrow.

Love Will Always Win

there is always a light at the end of the tunnel....

It's so incredibly simple; Love is the cure to all of Life's Problems.  If love is so simple, why do so many people suffer in search of love? Why is it so difficult for people to say, "I love you"??? Love is the anti-weapon, the opposite of a thing designed or used for inflicting bodily harm or physical damage. Love is also the ultimate weapon, a means of gaining an advantage or defending oneself in a conflict or trial .

How does that make sense?

Just as fear, anger, and hate come together in pairs and threesomes, faith, happiness, and love go together and breed each other.

As I reflected on this past year leading up to the new Jewish Year, Rosh HaShana, I remembered some of my toughest moments on my Cancer Journey.  I realized that my most painful experiences were when I allowed fear and anger in to chip away at my core.  The darkest moments were times when I felt weak and vulnerable, fear was at its height, anger reared its ugly head, and worst of all was when those emotions consumed me to the point of blocking out my hope, my happiness, and even my love. When you're scared, what is the one thing you need most? Reassurance. You need to know that everything will be okay which is often expressed or felt with a hug, a caress, or a kind word yet when fear takes over it can easily be expressed or translated into a negative act resulting in the opposite of what we need most. During my journey with cancer, I witnessed this phenomenon over and over again... I saw it at the hospital, in the clinic, in on-line support groups and I experienced it myself too. One of the things I feared was feeling pain and nausea. The anxiety on the drive over to the hospital each week was enough to make me vomit. Working my way up to a treatment; fearful and sad inevitably led to a more painful prick of the needle and with time maybe even worse blood test results. Chemotherapy was possibly the most intimidating test I've had to face and there were moments when my fear and anger consumed me. Those moments, saturated in fear and anger, were my most painful moments and also the ones I'd most like to avoid experiencing in my future; in sickness or in health.

Giving yourself over completely to faith means completely letting go of fear. It's not simple at all! For me, faith is G-d and my beliefs. For some that might be, A Higher Power, or Mother Nature. It doesn't matter - it's unblocking that control-center in your soul, your heart, and your mind and relinquishing all fears, doubts and problems and letting love take over. It will inevitably lead you directly to spiritual growth and happiness. ALL OF THIS is extremely difficult especially when you're not dying tomorrow or any time soon. It's all the more difficult to "let go" when there's no reason to. I've learned that the ONLY way to plough through all the negative feelings and emotions that hide out inside of my heart and go beyond the range or limits of those fears and pain, anger and hate is to realize this very simple thing: no one can make me happy or sad and things don't "happen" to me. I choose my response, emotions, and feelings and these are the ONLY things I have control of. The only person you can change is You. The only person You control is You and nobody but You.

I am not afraid. I choose to love... even the seemingly "unlovable".  (This is not the same thing as, "love your enemies and pray for those who curse you" from the Christian bible.) I'm not making the suggestion that you give in or show affection to enemies and lie down for a threat to mow you over. On the contrary.  I refuse to let the negativity from those bad things permeate my life. Love and happiness, as weapons, are the rubber and the glue that bad things bounce off of and stick to.  That adversity, that disaster, and those hard times or those bad, contradictory people will literally bounce off of the suit of armor that is made up of the layers upon layers of love, happiness, and faith. Overcoming resentment and hate is the way to clean up the emotional debris which is the absolute greatest obstacle to happiness and inner health. If you can clear away that so-called debris, the calm, the emotions you feel will actually inoculate you and safeguard you from anything. It's almost like being immortal. Indestructible. Impermeable and airtight to any assault of the psychological kind.

If you choose to react to the difficult situations with the same gusto, the same embrace and moving-right-along attitude, many people will be caught off guard and they may not know how to react to you. I've noticed that even the most bitter and difficult people eventually succumb to methodical loving acts and regular (genuine) smiles and kindness. So too are pain and fear. Hate, pain, and fear are eventually tamed when confronted with love, and joy and while many people are confused and unable to understand such emotions at such times, it's something that they cannot take away from me because I own those. Emotions cannot be taken. So what about true sadness in this world like tragedy, loss, illness and death? Even those things can be tamed by love and faith. No person has the ability to control the time or date, only I can choose the mood, the air, and the character of what and how I leave this world. THAT is why love is the ultimate element in life because it's indestructible and it truly and indefinitely does conquer all. It lasts forever and when used generously and soulfully... it lasts forever, even long after we are gone.

We'll all get there in the end

Today is the last day of school (in Israel) for the 2012/13 academic year. Whoosh... I mean, really! That school year went by faster than any other. We reached some meaningful milestones in our household. Our firstborn daughter, "A", graduated from 6th grade and will be attending a new school next year. "M", our second daughter, finished 4th grade. Our son, "Z", completed his first year at school. Our 3rd daughter, "H", finished her first year of kindergarten and our "baby", "E", completed her first year of preschool.

The way the school year flows in Israel is something like this... as soon as the kids start to get to know their teachers and schedules, the High Holy Days get rolling; Rosh HaShana, Yom Kippur, and then Sukkot, which pretty much takes us into October. There's a full month and a half of serious school-time before Chanukkah vacation and then another couple of months before Purim. A month after Purim is Passover. As soon as Passover madness takes over, the school year goes into cruise control mode, downhill sailing.  Right around May-time, parents start getting nervous. O M G! What camp are you sending to? What are your plans for the summer? Around May-time, is when I tune out of all those conversations. Summer vacation is the time of year I've been waiting for most. Yep. I'm the annoying Stay At Home Mom that all the Working Mothers love to hate. Summer vacation is the time of year when I can stop running around like a chicken with my head chopped off... no more crazy morning rush, no more carpools to a zillion different after-school activities, birthday parties, and whatnot. Summer is when we all slow down just a little bit at my house. We reconnect. Summer is when we pack up the car for a day at the beach or the pool. It's the only time of year that we can do what we want, when we want. Art projects, baking, lazy lunches at home, pajama parties... what-e-v-e-r. That's what I LOVE to do with my kids and I'm proud and thankful that I feel fulfilled in my mommy role.

Exactly one year ago, I embarked on a "fun summer" with my kids feeling like an absolute wreck; a shadow of my former self. I was exhausted, run down, and we all know why. 3 weeks later I was diagnosed and summer "vacation", as we know it,  was woefully over. I don't remember very much in detail from that point. I do know that my youngest two were taken into a very fun summer camp just around the corner from our home. Friends in the community and family made the summer fun for my kids. Fast-forward through all the stuff and we've arrived full circle. Here we are again and it's summertime. Time to make up for what I lost last year. I owe it to myself and my husband and our five kids. I want it to be great!

I'm still running... running is my wonderful, amazing natural high that gets me through the week! I recommend and encourage anyone and everyone to get out there and walk, jog, or run... it's amazing how well you can feel for those isolated minutes or hours of heart pumping, breathing, and sweat.

And I find myself listening to a stereo repeat of the following chorus over and over again in my head:

I don't want to be

Anything other than what I've been trying to be lately
All I have to do
Is think of me and I have peace of mind
I'm tired of looking 'round rooms
Wondering what I've got to do
Or who I'm supposed to be
I don't want to be anything other than me

That's the chorus for the Gavin Degraw song, I Don't Want To Be. It's the 3 Weeks, a period of time that we don't listen to music, and still that song is haunting me.

I just want to be me. I'm not saying that the "me" that I was, a year ago, was so great. One of the blessings I've been able to accept in my life, along with the Cancer Journey, was an opportunity to grow and change, and focus on meaningful attributes. I've gained appreciation and gratitude. My list is endless but I'm still not at peace. I'm trying to just. Be. Me. It's not working. It shouldn't be so difficult to "be yourself". My "Me" is happy and healthy and bursting with energy... but she's gone. She's not really all there. The "new Me" is still exhausted. She's forgetful and clumsy and nauseated all the time. She smiles constantly and says, "I feel great, thanks for asking, thank G-d!" but she's still just trying to perfect the Fake It Til You Make It method. I'm not sad. I'm happy and enthusiastic and full of ideas and plans.... that I feel too tired and not-myself to bring to fruition. I feel like at 6 months post-chemo it was all going to be behind me and on the road to Forgottenville and it's not. Having high expectations is probably not too smart or well planned on my part yet it's a difficult thing to control. Still working on it!

School's out for the summer! It's going to be grand! It's going to be fun! ...And if you have any doubts about it... just keep faking it. We'll all get there in the end.

Anniversaries

In 9 days it will be my end-of-chemo anniversary.

In  47 days it will be my 1 year diagnosis anniversary.

Whenever we realize that a whole year has gone by, we remark at how quickly time flies and it does. As I've said, time flies whether its fun or not. This past year has been filled with all kinds of emotions; happy and sad, and my year has flown by but in some ways it's had to stand still.  Time didn't wait for me, so maybe I was the one standing still.

I think it's natural to count the days... Having something to look forward to like a vacation overseas, or a happy occasion like a birth, a wedding, or of you're an optimistic person, a birthday! 

I no longer count days. I rely completely on calendar apps for that. My iPhone works overtime to keep me on top of carpool schedules with my kids: Hip Hop class, Yoga, piano, ballet, gymnastics, speech therapy, and keeps me on time to all the medical appointments and check ups and tests. 

It's probably pretty clear to anyone who reads Mama Blablah that I'm caught between here and there.

I don't really have spare time or the desire to waste it. I choose happiness! Yes, it's true. When I can, I meet with my friends and family and I make sure to hug and kiss all the people that I love and tell them how much I love them. I spend time in nature. I exercise. I jump up out of bed, early and bright. I feed, water, bathe, and care for my children. I keep up on my errands and chores. I follow up with all the medical appointments and on top of managing and juggling my big fat medical file and prescriptions and all that.

Five months.

I've been finished with chemotherapy for almost the amount of time that I was in treatment. I know I need to give myself time but how did all this time go by and what have I accomplished? That's a rhetorical question. Have I been standing still like in those movie clips where the person stands in one place and they speed up the recorded film...  Sunrise, sunset. You see cars zooming by and people rushing around... Plants growing, clouds speeding across the screen. Am I that frozen person? I don't want to wake up in a few months time and suddenly realize that I have to go back into treatment and oh-my-gawsh.... Too bad I was frozen in space for all those healthy months. (Insert panic. Anxiety attack. Heart palpitations) I know it happens. I have friends.... New friends that I met on my journey who also had ovarian cancer. For many, OC is a chronic disease that comes and goes. Ok, fine, I can deal with that. And there's the breast cancer too that I need to monitor. Hopefully it won't happen but there's this 70% risk factor for breast cancer dangling over my head that's kind of hard to ignore (according to my personal risk factor - calculated by geneticists at SZ). 

I think I need a job.

Maybe it's time to return to the work force... I'm nervous about it. I have a degree in Physical Therapy. I know what I'd really LOVE to be doing is working with people in a helping field, medical, but not sure if that means working in a PT clinic. Something amazing is brewing... I just know it but it's still out there in space. Should I stand here a few more moments? I'm not going to count down to the next anniversary - who knows what that will be?

A Change of Life

The following post is about surgically induced menopause. Guys, don't say I didn't warn you! If you can't handle the hot flashes, get out quick... before it's too late! 

Menopause. Eeeek. Talking about the Change of Life is NOT something I planned to do at this stage of my life. Honestly, I thought I'd be heavily pregnant right about now with Baby #6, not sizzling in Hot Flashes and losing my memory, motherly charm, and youthful skin and bones. According to most things I've read, menopause occurs around age 51 in most Western Women. The ovaries no longer respond to the controlling hormones released by the pituitary gland of the brain. As a result, the ovaries stop releasing an egg each month and no longer produce the female sex hormones estrogen and progesterone. With the plummet in hormone levels in the bloodstream here come  the symptoms of menopause. In a typical woman, this is a gradual process. Over time, a missed period here and there, hot flashes etc.. I don't speak from experience on that one because, well, you know. Women who need to undergo complete removal of their ovaries, either as a preventative measure or as treatment for cancer or other diseases of the ovary, enter what's known as, Surgically Induced Menopause. Some treatments, such as chemotherapy for breast cancer, can also cause menopause. Surgically induced menopause is completely different from "normal" menopause. It's not gradual or natural. Premenopausal women who experience surgical menopause have more intense and sudden symptoms and therefore the emotional impact of induced menopause is significantly more intense than natural menopause. It just happens, BOOM!, the second you're out of surgery, BAM! Hot flashes!  That's what I remember first, waking up feeling hot and like my cheeks were tingling and flushed. Thankfully, it was the end of July, and the air-conditioning in my room, at Shaare Zedek hospital, worked well.

So, why am I writing about this? Menopause is probably one of those subjects that most people don't really want to talk about. It's ovaries and hormones, and some of the symptoms are pretty inappropriate topics for polite and proper conversation.... but you know what?! I would have really liked to know about all these unpleasant things that were going to happen to me back in July, 2012. I'd heard of hot flashes and learned about the risks of diminished bone density and increased risk of heart disease. Nobody told me that I'd lose my mind or experience bouts of extreme depression and memory loss let alone intense morning sickness and nausea, headaches, and joint pain. I'm 37 not 60. I'm not ready for any of this.

There are treatments to ease the effects. Anti depressants and HRT aka hormone replacement treatment. I refuse to take anti depressants. HRT is great, in theory, but for now it's not working. There are hormone patches, creams, and pills... all of them can increase risk of breast cancer. The risk depends on the woman and her own personal risk factors. Obviously all of this requires multiple doctors and experts and trial and error. I'm still in the trial and error phase.

The point of this post is to help get the information out there. Less than two weeks ago, Angelina Jolie, did a huge service to women at risk for hereditary breast and ovarian cancer. By sharing her story,  maybe a thousands or even hundreds of thousands of women at risk will take charge and consider genetic testing. Perhaps women with gene mutations will feel encouraged and inspired to consider taking steps to prevent cancer, like AJ did. I didn't know. I was clueless. Lots of people have taken to social media, Facebook, Twitter, everyone has an opinion on the subject. Some response is very negative and it's painful to read and experience the thought processes of others but I say GREAT! People are aware and discussing an issue that I didn't even know existed a year ago! Talking is awareness. The fact that this issue is in the mainstream media, lead by one of the world's most beautiful and recognized woman, is nothing but positive for women at risk for ovarian and breast cancer. "With this publicity and her speaking out, I have a feeling there will be increased requests [for BRCA testing]," Sandra M. Swain, MD, president of the American Society of Clinical Oncology, told Medscape Medical News.  I want people to know that early, surgically induced menopause is a serious challenge. It's not Cancer. It's not life threatening but it's life changing and it can be a debilitating ailment when it's not managed or balanced. Sadly, due to risks of other cancers, many women are not at liberty to take HRT and are left to suffer through the sometimes crippling side effects. It's a real thing and something to think (talk?) about.

Rapunzel has left the building

Life happens. That's not a cliche because whether you actually move yourself or stand still... There's nowhere to go but onward, into the future. I remember when I was a little girl, many "grown-ups" said it was rude to ask a woman her age yet my mother never hid hers. She was a young mom and has always looked even younger. I remember on one of my mom's birthdays, I wondered if she was afraid of getting "old" (she was probably all of 30...) and my mom declared, "well, it sure beats the alternative!". And that was that. My mom is a happy person, young in spirit, heart, and mind. I always knew that every year of life was something to be proud of and I will follow her and never hide my age.  I hope to be a proud "old" woman someday!

I muse a lot about being happy and about living the choice of  "just being happy". Happy about nothing.  Happy about myself, about my life, my choices. Leading a happy life requires teetering on a fine line sometimes.  I don't think it matters where you come from, how much money you have or how healthy you are, at any given stage or milestone in your life, you choose the path to the right or the path to the left. There's plenty to cry about and fair reason to be mad or upset and sometimes you really do need to cry it out or punch a pillow but the sadness (or anger) doesn't need to stick around.  I was given this life which included a Cancer Detour. There was CANCER and then surgery and then there was chemotherapy. In truth, I didn't have a choice. I had to have chemotherapy.  I had to go through that "yucky" time. I had control of fewer things than I was used to. I let go and let more people in than ever before and I found a lot of new friends and rediscovered old friends. I had to lose my hair. I lost a good part of a year of being healthy and in charge. That element of losing control leaves a mark and all of a sudden, the constant preoccupation with treatment and balancing killing-cancer with not-letting-the-treatment-kill-me is over. Time to move into the next stage which is, regrowth; the rediscovery of everything. Regaining control of my life.

Today, I did something so unrestrained and invigorating. For a while now the hair has been growing back like baby hair yet gray. I know it looks different. Even with my head covering, everyone I see remarks at the growth and it's a huge change from bald! My family and many of my women friends know that I had long, dark, thick hair, down to my waist, before I had it cut and donated it to Zichron Menachem. People who know about chemotherapy and the after effects tell me that my hair will grow back "better than ever" or "it'll grow back and be long as it was in no time".  It's true, the body is a miraculous vessel that rejuvenates and rebuilds but maybe I've moved onwards and that fertile, breast feeding mother, with the Rapunzel hairdo doesn't exist anymore. She was alright. She was cool. She's in there somewhere... Just not exactly the same. Honestly, part of me is afraid to grow the Rapunzel-do only to (G-d forbid) relapse and need chemo again. I don't know if I could handle a second head-shaving party with the festivity that I did the first time. Let's not go there. My close friend, Efrat, introduced me to her hairdresser today.  I could've let my hair grow. I could've waited around for it to change or not, or I could've tried to dye it back to my previous color. The whole hair thing is all somewhat superficial. Hair color. Hair style. I keep my hair covered most of the time anyways and it's always tucked away in public. With hair this short, some of it always peeps out as careful as I strive try to be to cover it up, it's out there making a statement. She recently finished chemotherapy or something happened to this woman in her thirties with the wispy gray hair. Perhaps the only statement is the one in my head? I dunno. I decided to do something completely uncharacteristic of me. Very bold, drastic, and yet so liberating and empowering! I decided to have my hair peroxided platinum blond and neatly trimmed. One year ago, there's no way I would've considered this look! No way! ...and now here I am. Just another choice, frivolous, yet something about it feels optimistic, hopeful, different, and happy.

Hair itself is nonessential and cosmetic, its not alive, it's symbolism is physical. Symbolically, hair represents the ideas and thoughts that are growing out from the psyche. Hair loss can symbolize abandoned ideas, loss of creativity, helplessness, loss of power or control, and loss of energy. Loss. Loss. Loss.

When you think of losing hair it's usually a manifestation of a very stressful situation... something that people say when they feel like they're losing their grip; "pulling hair out" or "losing hair" due to stress. Don't forget the story of Samson, who lost his strength and his life. Hair is so much more than dead cells sprouting from thousands of follicles all over the body.  Women of various religions hide it. The loss of hair symbolizes loss of strength, illness, and old age as does graying of the hair. On the optimistic side of hair, in dreams, hair and hair changes hold powerful subconscious messages and imagery. If you dream that you make drastic changes to your hairstyle, according to the celestial "science" of dream interpretation, it means that you are taking a progressive, new approach to an issue in your waking life and what a fabulous idea that is!  Why not? No better time than now to make a positive external change to mirror what I feel on the inside.

If Ovaries Could Speak

It was dark and foggy. No moon. No stars. The air had a misty tang to it and his footsteps echoed faintly as he paced himself, staying close to the walls, avoiding the beams of light from the streetlights. He tugged at the dangling drawstrings, with a gloved left hand, pulling the soft fleece snugly over his ears and hiding his profile in the black hole of his hooded sweatshirt. The young woman's silhouette, framed in the well lit window, was visible from the street. Her willowy arms moved animatedly. She appeared to be speaking on the phone. She was definitely alone in the house.  As he approached, he could hear her voice traveling towards him from an open window; the way in. He slipped the heavy metal cylinder from his pocket and secured it into place and slipped soundlessly through the open window. Moments later, a muted shot, and she was gone. Forever. Another hit by the "Silent Killer".

Give me a break. There's no such thing as a "Silent Killer"... Well, maybe in the movies or on TV or written into a riveting mystery novel but not in Real Life and certainly not of the cancer variety. Ovarian cancer is often referred to as a "silent killer" and since May 8th is the first World Ovarian Cancer Day, I'm dedicating this post to raising awareness about ovarian cancer, the gynecologic cancer with the lowest survival rate. On this day, ovarian cancer awareness organizations from across the world will aim to have a singular focus and message for ovarian cancer and its symptoms. Ovarian cancer is NOT a silent killer and many groups have taken to calling it "the disease that whispers".

According to, OvarianCancerDay.org, ovarian cancer is diagnosed annually in nearly a quarter of a million women globally, and is responsible for 140,000 deaths each year. Statistics show that just 45% of women with ovarian cancer are likely to survive for five years compared to up to 89% of women with breast cancer. Those are some pretty miserable statistics. And what's the deal with the silence and the whispering? As a woman, I can say proudly and with confidence that I'm on pretty good terms with myself. In tuned. In touch with my body. I know when I don't feel well and I definitely noticed when my ovaries started "whispering" to me. The only thing is, I couldn't quite pinpoint where the "whispering" was coming from and what it meant. As I've written about before, I knew something was wrong for many months and I visited many doctors. No one identified or connected all the "whispering" symptoms as any kind of imminent threat to my health let alone my life or cancer.  So lets be clear about ovarian cancer, it's NOT a silent killer unless you ignore what your ovaries are trying to tell you. The signs and symptoms are subtle. Learn them. Maybe you will save someone's life, or your own. More importantly, take this moment to internalize this: be your own advocate. If something is wrong and you KNOW something is wrong, don't give up. Not everything shows up on a routine blood test. Listen to your body. Get it checked. If going to the gynecologist for your annual check-up gives you butterflies or having your breasts examined makes you squeamish or the thought of a camera snaking through your colon makes you put off sharing your symptoms with a doctor... imagine the regret you'll feel (G-d forbid) discovering advanced stage cancer has invaded your body.

So, what are the signs?
According to cancer.org,  recent medical studies show symptoms often do exist for ovarian cancer, even in its early stages. The most common include:
 bloating
 pelvic or abdominal pain
 trouble eating or feeling full quickly
 urinary symptoms, such as the need to go urgently or frequently
nausea
fatigue that doesn't get better with rest
irregular cycle
irregular bleeding
Trouble is, these symptoms are relatively common and associated with a number of different health problems, from irritable bowel syndrome to urinary tract infections. They are more likely to be due to other, less serious problems. But if you have these symptoms almost daily for more than a few weeks, report them to your doctor right away. When ovarian cancer is found early, while it is still confined to the ovary, about 93% of patients live longer than 5 years after diagnosis. Unfortunately, only about 20% of ovarian cancers are found at this early stage.
See a doctor if you have persistent symptoms like the ones described above, and get regular women’s health exams. While most early ovarian tumors are difficult for even the most skilled doctor to feel during a pelvic exam, an exam may help identify other cancers or gynecologic conditions.

Get in touch with your family... know your history. World wide, 10-15% of ovarian cancer cases are caused by genetic mutations and in the Ashkenazi Jewish population, those numbers are astoundingly higher. Lifetime risk estimates for ovarian cancer for women in the general population are about 1.4%  compared with 15% to 40% of women who have a harmful BRCA1 or BRCA2 mutation. Genetic mutations that can cause breast, ovarian, and other cancers can be passed from mothers AND fathers to both daughters and sons. Women with a mutated BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene have a lifetime risk of between 36% - 85% of developing breast cancer by age 70!  The ethical debate over whether to-test-or-not-to-test are rampant. With the main preventative option for ovarian cancer being prophylactic risk-reducing salpingo-oophorectomy (removal of healthy fallopian tubes and ovaries), let's just say it's not a very appealing or attractive option. As of May 8th, 2013, doctors and scientists have yet to discover or develop viable tests, tools, or magic balls to adequately detect or screen for early stage ovarian cancer. Likewise, treatment options are limited. So, yes, if you want my personal opinion, I say wipe the sand out of your eyes and get genetic counseling. Get the guidance you want and need from an experienced and well-trained genetic counselor who can help you make your choice about genetic testing, surveillance, and prevention of genetic cancers.

Back to that, "Silent Killer", the one with the gun and the silencer... you know you're going to lock your windows and doors tonight before you go to bed. Forget the killer... surely you have homeowners insurance? Car insurance? Health insurance? The best locks and coverage you're ever going to get is taking your health into your own hands. Listen to your body and trust your inner voice. Eat healthy, exercise, stay proactive about your own health, and don't put off those not-so-fun recommended medical check-ups... oh, and choose happiness. The rest is all in G-d's hands.

Some brilliant "poet" said, "Life's no picnic."

Apparently there's some unwritten rule that Bloggers are supposed to post something every day? Ha! Well, that's not gonna happen... I mean, I guess I could turn this shindig into a completely self-indulgent diary of sorts but I think that would get real boring REAL fast. It might read something like this: Today I feel great. I ran "X" kilometers. The weather was hot... my kids were cute today blah blah blah. And this: Today I'm nauseated. I barely got out of bed. My tummy hurts. I have no appetite. I lost more weight. I feel like I can't even run. I'm agitated and have no patience for anyone.... I'm scared the cancer is back blah blah blah.

Everywhere I go, people kindly ask me how I'm feeling. The further I get from finishing chemo, the more I realize that this cancer journey isn't over so quickly for most people. There's not a "cure" for cancer. There are some amazing miracle stories out there and you have to cling to them and believe that a miracle can be your own. I'm very good at doing that and I do have a lot of faith. Mostly.

I've made a lot of new friends on this journey. Some of them had cancer and are Survivors. Some are Previvors. Many of my new friends are still unsure. After completing treatment and entering Remission, you have the ability and the freedom to do anything. I guess people can use the term, "cured", in retrospect... when they're G-d willing 80-something and it's been decades since they entered Remission... but as my Grandpa Ben, of blessed memory who lived to the magnificent age of 97, used to say, "Nobody knows". Cancer is still a mystery like the mystery of fertility or the After Life. Anyone who solves this mystery and discovers the magic ball that will predict the outcome is either G-d or the future's most brilliant scientist!

I have some awesome days!  ...And sometimes I feel sick. It's not an emotional-kind-of-sick. There's a bit of a racket surrounding cancer. It's messy. Abdominal surgery messes up your insides. There can be scarring, adhesions. Not to mention the jumble left after certain organs are removed. Something has to fill the void. Hormonal imbalances. Chemotherapy messes with your brain. It erases certain things. Chemo Brain is a real thing. 

It's not surprising that even after you graduate from cancer treatment that the whole cancer journey doesn't just end even if you're in Remission and hopeful to leave cancer in the dust. 

Cancer is lunacy. With the constant looming threat of Cancer hovering in my space, I could almost go insane on a bad day. I'm pretty responsible and I'm taking care of business. Following up after all the annoying signs and symptoms. Some require tests and action and others require patience and maybe even some alternative healing.  

I'm extremely grateful to my oncologist, who makes himself available and hears me. His concern is genuine. One of the things I'm forced to tolerate are the loving, well-meaning people, who think that they're gifted with the ability to predict the future. I will never tell someone who has/had cancer that I "know" they're fine or that I'm sure those painful symptoms that they're experiencing are "normal" or "just in their head" or "to be expected" or WHATEVER. It seems to be that there's some kind of auto-response that has to be given and You know I'm going to "fight it" or "beat it". You might hope or pray but that's no guarantee. We don't have all the answers and I know that's difficult and makes us feel powerless. We are all powerless but that's Life. I have to live with that powerlessness every single day. We all do.

Sadly, there are people who never completely "beat" cancer and it's not because they didn't pray and "fight" and try hard enough! Sometimes cancer doesn't go away. 

I'm only speaking for me when I say this and this is how I cope. I need to be okay with the worst case scenario. That's how I lower my own anxiety. This is something my dad taught me when I was freaking out in my first year of university. What if I fail?!! I managed to get myself into such a state just at the horrific thought of flunking... that my blood pressure skyrocketed and I was so physically ill, it was a bit ridiculous. My dad helped me through by helping me envision the worst case scenario and planning out how I would overcome and come out on top. What would happen if I failed? I'd have to find something else to do... would I drop dead? Would my life be over? Heck no! And that's how I learned to control my own blood pressure and I never suffered such intense anxiety again. 

There's always a way out. No matter how "awful" or "horrible" the situation may seem, there's something else beyond it. Even cancer. Even a relapse or a recurrence. Even death. AND I'm not a quitter or a loser or being a negative "stinkin' thinkin'"gal because I cope this way. Actually, I'm happy to say that I think I cope pretty darn indubitably well.

It's not only about Cancer. That's just life. Some brilliant "poet" said, "Life's no picnic.". Obviously they were right, not to say that we can't stop and have a few picnics on the way to wherever we're going. YES! It's all going to be okay. NO! I don't know what's going to be. I just know that I need to believe that it's all going to be okay. Even if it doesn't go my way every time.

Not There Yet

I'm not at a complete loss for words in fact I've got lots to say... mostly mundane and not-so-poignant these days (thankfully). Cancer survivors need a new birth date. Certainly I've been reborn... the question is when? Was it July 22nd, 2012, the day I was diagnosed? Or July 26th, 2012, the day of my life saving surgery? Perhaps the most suitable "new birth date" should be Jan. 13, 2013, the day I completed chemotherapy, set free to the new life of Remission. Maybe it's not the dates that matter, and maybe just remembering that I'm not the same Erika that I was then or then or then is enough.

I'm exactly 3 months off of chemotherapy and feeling like a different person. My hair is beyond sprouting, it's coming in thick and healthy and grey! My eyelashes and eyebrows came back and I've finally shaken the chemo-patient pallor that earned me many a pity-stare over the past several months. I have more energy. I still get exhausted much quicker than I used to and my short-term memory is nonexistent so I  rely on the calendar and alarms programed into my phone. In many ways, I quickly re-adapted and easily shed that cancer persona. BUT in the dark and early hours, I often toss and turn. Somehow late nights and early hours are the times when doubt and fear come to whisper and jeer. Those moments bring back physical pain and worries that are intense enough to convince me that the cancer is back to finish off what it started. So many events along the way have alerted me to the importance of listening to my inner voice - because when I feared the very worst,  my fears were true, and the many doctors who tried to persuade me that all was well were all wrong.

At some point you need to find a balance and I haven't yet. Is that a "normal" pain or is cancer rearing its ugly head again? If I can run 18 kilometers I must be healthy, right? And if all my blood work is "good" I should rest easy, no? Yet (not) funnily enough, my blood was healthy when I had a gut full of cancer... and I recall rooting for my dad as he ran a full marathon right before he was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer. Beyond faith there is no cure for worry and fear and beyond countless (unnecessary) scans and tests there's no proof. Constant worry is unavoidable. I try to occupy my time with meaningful projects. I'll need to find the balance and start swinging with it. That's my goal but I'm not there yet.