THREE DAYS OUT

January 29, 2010 Friday

It's three days out from my last chemo, and I have to say, I'm really glad this was my last chemo round. It's totally kicking my butt. I haven't been able to move much from the couch except to go to the bathroom or refill my glass with water. I'm so wiped out. The hot flashes are horrendous and the chills are the opposite end of the spectrum. Food tastes awful, and water is the closest thing to real tasting, but still tastes polluted. I feel like I smell like burnt flesh, although Ed swears I don't. I suppose my sense of smell is off as well. The heartburn is worse than ever, and my sleep is disturbed and heavy when I can sleep. I'm hoping that the next couple of days turns around, and my sense of taste returns, and my hot flashes lessen. The only thing I have to hold on to is this is the last chemo treatment, the last time I have to feel like this. It's only up from here.

My son's 15th birthday is Monday, and I would really like to feel human. He has been such a great kid through all of this, and he deserves a great day. His show was extended so he has to perform on his birthday, which is always a mixed blessing. It's great to share the day with your cast members, but you don't get your day with your friends. We'll have to post-pone his birthday party, because I have no idea what he wants to do for his birthday. Thank Goodness he is the type of kid that can roll with the punches. I really couldn't be prouder of him. He has always had to "deal" on one level or another. He seldom complains, and is always there for the hug he knows I need. My Marmaduke.

My daughter continues her work in LA and is so tired from all the Awards shows, and long hours at Modern Family. Now she adds a film to her slate. I am simply amazed at the tenacity of Sarah. She is determined to prevail. She continues to be the role model for this mom to never give up. I love my children and my husband beyond reason. Without their love and support I'd never have made it this far. Without the support of my friends I'd have been a mess. I am so blessed and lucky. So these past few days are just a pain in the can, and will pass, and I will get better, and stronger, and my life will move on to the next phase of healing.

So I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your prayers, chanting, energy, good thoughts, and love, lots of love. It has not gone unnoticed, and it has not been taken for granted.

Nite!~

Light and Love!

Melissa

RINGING THE BELL

January 27, 2010 Wednesday

Yesterday was my last Chemo treatment. I woke early, eager to get up to the Cancer Center and get it over with. But as I am well aware, when you are too eager, the Universe has a way of torturing you. I got up there right on time. I was called in quickly, so I thought, "Slam dunk", I'll be in and out. Then the port would not give blood. Delay #1. Heparin given and had to wait 20 minutes before trying again. Still not flowing so great, so Sarah, my chemo nurse had to draw the old fashioned way. Messy, but we got it done. Next up to the doctor's floor. Already 30 minutes behind, now. Delay #2. I went to pay my co-pay, but the guy at the desk didn't have change. I had to put the co-pay on the credit card. Can we say, $$ finance charges? Finally got in to see Dr. Speyer. I weigh 133lbs. I didn't put the weight back on like I have in the past. That's okay with me, I like my new shape. The doctor and I spoke about the ending of the chemo and when I'd start to feel "normal" again, He said 6 months. I took that as a challenge to prove him wrong. I am determined to make it 3 months. The gauntlet has been thrown down. Let the better man/woman win. I told him about my horrendous hot flashes that have robbed me of a good night's sleep. Every hour drenched in sweat. My 8 hour sleep cut in half. My fatigue because of it. My crabbiness. My multiple hot flashes during the day. Ed says at least 50 a day. All I know is I'm drenched more than I am dry. I flux between cold and over heated. Dr. Speyer wants me to wait for 6 weeks, to see if it is driven by the Chemo or if it is my sudden onset of menopause. 6 WEEKS!? That feels like a lifetime without proper sleep. At least these next few days I'll not notice; sleep is the norm with the chemo regardless of hot flash. Finally, I headed back down to the 6th floor. When I arrived at 9:45am the waiting room was completely empty, save for a couple of people. Delay #3. When I got back to that waiting room, I was hard pressed to find a seat. That was not good news. I knew the wait was going to long. I was scheduled for 10:30am. I didn't go in until 11:50am. Still not too bad considering all the delays. But when you have to wait, unexpected benefits come to you, if you are patient. My son came to be my chemo buddy. And next a young boy arrived with bags and bags of goodies. He handed out the bags with a note to each and every person waiting to have treatment. His name, Harrison. His cause, part of his Mitzvah, giving back to community. He raised money by collecting only quarters and with the money he raised, he bought the softest coziest blankets for chemo patients. He hailed from NJ, and traveled in to the city for his cause. I'll post the video interview. It meant so much to me and all the others there. A hidden benefit. If only more young people would stand up and reach out to give, this world would be a caring place all the time. I applaud his mother. They are friends with Pam, who is the founder of R.E.S.T. who is responsible for the free massages we get at the Center from the best massage therapists in the City. Pam worked with Harrison and what a great team they turned out to be. The blanket was so much more comfortable than the scratchy cotton blankets the Center supplies. Pampering was the word of the day. Now I had my son, who knows how to make me smile from the inside out, my new comfy cozy blanket, my apple juice, and then Lizzie and Corilee from the SGI Cultural Center arrived to chant with me. Already dopey from the drugs, I chanted for awhile, but dozed off to the calming sound of Nam Myoho Renge Kyo. With their hands laid on my legs, I felt the rhythm of the Mystic Law pulse through my body, spreading healing, turning poison into medicine. My legs didn't have that twitchy restless feeling. During the chanting, the massage therapist showed up and I got my massage. After my massage the chanting continued for a bit longer, and soon Ed came with lunch and the ladies all left and it was just my family around me. I had such a peaceful session. I drifted off to sleep, Ian took off, I don't blame him. Around 4pm my chemo was done. Sarah came in and said, "I know you want to ring the bell today, but technically you aren't really done with treatment, because you still have to come for Herceptin. It's a little bit weird, cuz you are done with the chemo, but still, you aren't really done." I can accept delays, but this was one of those times, I was not willing to accept this delay. Ed wasn't willing either. He advocated for me. But ultimately I stood my ground. I explained that ringing the bell was what got me through to this day. I argued that Herceptin was not a chemo drug, and the bell is for when the chemo is done. So I really wanted to ring the bell today, and I'd forgo the ringing of the bell at the end of the year. In the end, Sarah accepted the argument and said I could ring the bell twice; once for today and once at the end of Herceptin. So I grabbed the bell, and said aloud the declaration and rang the bell loud and strong for all to hear on the floor. It felt good to be finished with this Part A, the rest is easy. 90 minutes every three weeks 'til the end of the year; radiation for 3 weeks, muga scans, CT Scans, follow ups, mammograms, MRI's all of these things are so easy compared to the six chemos. Chemo is over and the next three weeks will go quickly because I don't have to face another chemo treatment. No dread in the future. Only healing, and getting strong again. The biggest issue I'll face is keeping the weight down. With determination I'll do that too.

After my last session I went to the Cultural Center and was inspired by the speakers that night. Something I read while waiting for my last treatment were the words of President Ikeda. His wife said in an article I read, "My husband once wrote to a women's leader: "Live out your life with courage; this the best path to happiness." I feel I have lived up to this statement. I want every woman facing Breast, ovarian, any cancer with courage. We need to all be Lions, fiercely fighting for our lives. WE will all be victorious. Prayer is a strong medicine in whatever form you choose to pray in. Let it guide you to victory. Never give in to fear, fear is the only way you can lose. And yes, there will be moments of doubt, but push the doubt away, it is not anymore welcome than the cancer. Victory is yours to attain, and you will attain it with strength you didn't know you possessed. I know I have.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

THE LAST CHEMO TREATMENT

January 26, 2010 Tuesday

Today is the day, in just 1 hour and 45 minutes I will be getting the last dose of poison. My last chemo. The last high, the last of feeling disconnected, nauseous , IBS'd, and crappy. Soon I'll be able to have OJ, Tomatoes, pizza, marinara sauce. I'll be able to have a glass of wine soon. My food palette will once again be full of flavor and color, instead of the boring versions of white, over cooked green, and yellow-orange. A rainbow of flavor!!! I get choked up just thinking about it. Things that will change when I can eat whatever I like. No more fries, okay, maybe once and a while, I don't want to come off like Bristol Palin with the never thing, that would secure my failure. Carbs, I don't really care to see another a piece of white bread again. Pretzels, graham crackers, soda crackers, apple sauce, grape juice, apple juice, mac & cheese, chicken pot pies, mashed potatoes and gravy (except at Thanksgiving) ~ Good bye for now. Hello Mexican Food, Cafe Della Pace, Seafood, Sushi, and Chili!

I've taken my Dex and now I get ready to shower and apply the numbing cream. Get the IV placed, talk to the Doctor, get down to the chemo floor to start the flow of drugs, rest and receive, then I'll have two lovely ladies from the SGI Cultural Center come chant with me, and finally have the IV removed and proudly walk to the Bell and ring it 3 times. Declare my victory. I am a survivor, I am stronger than I thought I ever could be. The ringing of the bell is not just for me; it's for all the women and men who struggle with all forms of cancer. It is a declaration of Hope. Listen to the Bell ring and never give up Hope, never quit on yourself, never doubt that a cure is coming.

My journey is not finished, but the worst part of it is almost over. The mountain has been climbed, and though it was a difficult assent, I stand a top of the mountain and the view is beyond beautiful, it is breath-takingly spectacular! The journey down will not be easy, but will be easier than the climb. President Ikeada once said, "Live out your life with courage; this is the best path to happiness." I know I have done just that. I challenge you all to do the same in no matter what your struggle is. Courage and hope. Take care of yourself, take care of your family and friends, and take the time to care for strangers in need with courage and hope.

Time to shower!

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

24 HOURS

January 25, 2010 Monday

24 Hours. One day. 1,440 minutes. The last day of chemo. These last hours seem to crawl toward the finish line. If I could, I'd go today and get it over with. The urge to feel like myself again is almost overwhelming. On one hand, I dread the coming disconnect, the nausea, the IBS. On the other hand, I can't wait to have those feelings one last time. To know that it is the last time I feel this way, is exhilarating. An adventure.

The thing I really am tired of is all of the hot flashes that wake me in the middle of the night, and annoy me to no end during the day. If someone were to put a heat sensor over me it would show nothing but dark red. They come from nowhere. One moment I'm cold, the next, suffocating, and drenched in fine beads of sweat from head to toe. My wrists, the crooks of my elbows, the back of my knees, even my ankles become pools of sweat. The top of my head, the back of my neck, my chest, and my back turn to small rivers. Another side effect of chemo. When does it calm down? I'd like to know. I'd like to get nights that are complete in slumber. Covers up to my chin, covers thrown off, the big wipe down, a drink of water, then the chill, covers back on, covers off, covers on, covers off. Over and over again. An eight hour sleep turns into 4 hours of strange sleep. And finally, when sleep really does come, it's time to wake up for the day. My body so trained to wake at 6:30am every morning, is a bit of a curse.

My lack of sleep leaves me short tempered. I try to check myself, but I find myself just wanting to be left alone, because I know I'm crabby. I don't really want to bite off any one's head for stupid things, but the lack of consistent sleep is beginning to wear me down.

On a lighter note, I got a really awesome Snuggie from Debbie in Texas, a mom of one of Sarah's friends in LA. I can't believe the out pouring of love I've received over this crazy course. I commented that I wished I had a Snuggie when Debbie posted being curled up with cocoa and her Snuggie. It was a very cold night here in NYC, one where the wind was howling and no amount of heat could keep the apartment warm. I didn't mean I wanted to have her send me one, but send me one she did. And it isn't just some regular old boring Snuggie in blue or red, it has panache! A bold Zebra print. I howled with laughter! Perfect! I LOVE MY SNUGGIE! Thanks Debbie! I put it on and take it off often. Ian tries to pinch it, and yet, at the same time declares it is ridiculous. He secretly is filled with envy, that's my take. It freaks out the cats, especially Niki, who is afraid of her shadow. Imagine her fear when she sees me wrapped up like a zebra.

So tomorrow is the last day. I'm packing my zebra snuggie, my son's flip camera, and my elan. It is a big day, and the upside is that the drugs will help me sleep without interruption for a few hours. And after all the drugs have been infused, I can really focus on being done with this leg of the journey. Bring it on. I'm ready to go, even if I'm sleep deprived.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

72 HOURS AWAY

January 23, 2010 Saturday

I am 72 hours away from my last chemo treatment. The finish line is in site. I plan on bringing my camera and my son's Flip camera to document the last treatment.

Things I will miss about chemo

1. The free massage

2. Sarah, my chemo nurse

3. Nothing else

Things I look forward to after chemo

1. A tall glass of Orange Juice

2. Pizza

3. Mexican Food

4. My hair growing back, except for the areas I have to shave, i.e. legs and armpits...

5. Not being tired.

6. Dancing

7. Not being afraid of getting sick

8. Not having the bathroom as the most visited room in the house

9. Getting back to LIFE!

I did a lot of paperwork yesterday, boy am I behind. YIKES! Mountains of things to address that require my full brain. As anyone who has gone through chemo will tell you, "Chemo Brain" is real, and very frustrating. I forget simple words, ideas, and tasks. I've given in to it because I know it's temporary, but man oh man, am I over it. So are the kids. They are so use to me being on top of everything, but now I'm a Swiss cheese head, with details slipping away everyday. Lists are my friend, if I can remember where I put them. lol I'm like the Uncle in "It's a Wonderful Life" I have the string tied to my finger and that's great; I know I should remember something important, if only I can remember what it is that's so Damn important.

Three weeks from now, I'll have my brain back. Yipee!!!

The new leg of the journey will begin soon enough ~ Radiation. I have to meet with the Radiation Oncologist and find out when that chapter begins. I'm nervous about it, but know that I can get through it.

I miss my daughter so much, and really want to just jump on a plane for California, but finances hold me back, as well as the continued Herceptin treatment. Just one more frustration I have to push away, and accept. She'll be home soon enough to visit and I will be so glad to just sit in the same room with her. I'm truly happy for her success, and couldn't be prouder of her doing so well at such a young age, but somehow it feels it happened so quickly I didn't get to say goodbye, good luck and Safe Home. She was just gone one day. Enough. I won't dwell on it.

It's the last dance with poison, the last chemo, the last weeks of feeling disconnected, and crappy. Spring is coming, and I will blossom like the cherry trees of D.C. and be full of joy.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

CAMPYLOBACTER

January 21, 2010 Thursday

Campylobacter, the most common food borne bacteria that causes food poisoning. That is what my son, Ian had that caused all the bloody stool. Safe to say that since I haven't gotten sick that way, it wasn't in my kitchen. The only place outside of home is the school cafeteria, so by process of elimination we think it was hiding in the salad on the salad bar. Ian is now on antibiotics, a Zip pack, and he will be fine. Scary as it was, it is curable. What makes me angry is that even after contacting the school and requesting someone call me, I have heard nothing, nada, zip. There are kids at risk there, and I have to wonder if they are going to contact those families where the kids got sick with the "stomach flu" about the bacteria. Not my problem, I've done my part, and Ian will NEVER eat the school lunch again. I'll have him take his chances with the outside world. He lost 10lbs on a frame that didn't have even 5lbs to lose. So this week is "Eat whatever you want" week.

It has been stressful for me, because I was uncomfortable in the ER because of my immune system, fearful of getting whatever Ian had, and terrified that Ian would have to be hospitalized. Shades of my Dad when he got Colon Cancer. It shook me to my core. I was having a hard time understanding why the Universe seemed to be dumping on my family. It made me sick, my IBS kicked in and I've been troubled with my own issues of the bowel. No fever, so I know it's not the campylobacter.

On to the better side of my life. My daughter attended the Golden Globes this past Sunday and she was stunning on the Red Carpet. She has suddenly grown up and is a beautiful young lady. Modern Family may not have won Best Comedy on TV but it doesn't matter, it won in our house. She had a great time, and the photos at the table showed it. I've worried about the rain out in LA because people out there are just not used to driving in the rain, but so far so good. She's been so busy I haven't spoken with her and rely on twitter to know she still exists. This Saturday is the SAG awards, so Modern Family has another chance to win, and I'm crossing my fingers that fellow actors recognize this wonderful show for the genius it is. I can't wait to see what she'll be wearing next.

I am 5 days away from my 6th, my last chemo treatment, and in the final days of this leg of the journey with my breast cancer. I can't tell you how excited I am about getting the last dose of poison. I look forward to it, I want to run to it, embrace it, and move on. I get to ring the bell on Tuesday, to inspire others to not give up hope. I've invited friends to come up and chant with me on Tuesday to rejoice in the last chemo. It's a party. My Winter is ending, soon the crocus will push forth and Spring is just around the corner. My Spring, my hibernation, my transformation from caterpillar to Butterfly. I get a break before radiation, don't know how long, but a break.

Radiation, for me, will be the downhill slope of this journey, and the finish line will be in site. I plan on doing the Avon Walk, so you get ready to join my group. I look to the future with great hope and joy. I will be stronger and better for this journey, I feel it already.

To those who are just beginning this journey, please don't give up, fight and fight hard. It is worth everything it costs you. Find yourself as you walk this path, and know that you are stronger than you ever thought you could be. Be brave for yourself, don't be afraid to be angry, you earned it. Don't dwell in anger though, find the lighter side of this. Look for the benefits.

I'm so excited I could cry tears of joy. My last chemo is just around the corner, and poison is being turned into medicine on more than just one level. My inner revolution is stirring, and it feels great!

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

ER

January 17, 2010 Sunday

Everybody knows the scare that kids are capable of. ER's are a part of every parents world at one point or another. My kids know how to scare you better than the rest. Ian rarely gets sick, but when he does, he does it with great panache. So Ian had a virus this past week, and Opening Night of his play Safe Home was a nail biter as to whether or not he'd actually go on. He had the cast on pins and needles up to 7pm on Thursday. He pulled the performance out of nowhere and did a fantastic job. He bulled through Friday's show, but Saturday morning Ian woke us with, "Mom, I have blood in my stool." A call to the doctor and we were watching him closely. It could have been the Red Gatorade from the night before, or it could be blood. As the day wore on the Gatorade theory hit the road and worry set in. By 6pm it was clear the bleeding was getting worse and a trip to the ER was in order. So we headed North to NYU Medical Center and received, once again, stellar care. An IV drip placed into the now pale pale Ian and bloods drawn for tests, then more bloods taken for more tests, stool samples taken, and 5 1/2 hours later....we have the healthiest sick kid in America. None of the tests showed anything. So what caused the bleeding? We may never know, we still have to wait for the results of stool cultures. But the IV drip helped, the bleeding stopped, and we were sent home.

What I could handle easily years ago with Sarah I found exhausting with Ian. No doubt the Chemo treatments have something to do it. I found myself using up the ER's supply of Purell, no better place than a hospital to get something nasty. To our right, a family with a boy who had the Mumps (the mumps!) just last week, beyond that curtain a child puking her guts out. How lucky am I? I can only hope that I won't get anything new. Today, I'm slow to move, tired out from the "what ifs" of last night. Ian woke today as if nothing had happened. Happy, goofy, HUNGRY. He lost 10 lbs this past week on a frame that had little to lose to begin with. So this coming week I'm sure to have a hard time keeping food on the table. Thank goodness this is my "good" week.

This morning I rose early and headed to SGi to chant for my gratitude that it was nothing serious with my son and to pray for the dead of Haiti. Incense was burned by all there, a moving ceremony and those members from Haiti giving us thanks for the service. Life hangs by threads it seems sometimes. Everyday is a gift. A reminder to not squander it.

Ian is off to do his show, healthy and happy once again. My daughter readies for the Golden Globe Awards, and will, no doubt, look like the Starlet she is, and I will watch from the comfort of my home in my comfy clothes, barefoot and bald and beam with pride. Yes, life is a gift, and our children are our best gifts we give to ourselves. I am blessed, I am lucky, I am grateful.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

BULLING THROUGH

January 16, 2010 Saturday

It's been a few days since my last post, but what a past few days they have been. Sick is the word in the house. Me, just getting over the viruses that have plagued my body for the past weeks, my chemo effects wearing off, and the exhaustion beginning to lift from me. Ed coming down finally with the virus I carried, folding to the never ending stream of things he had to do above and beyond, such as driving me everywhere because it was so cold outside and I was so sick he didn't want me exposed to the elements, fearful of the common virus turning into major infection. So there he'd sit in the car, in the cold, waiting for me or looking for the precious as gold parking spot, wearing down his immune system. Then there is Ian. Ian who wears the bare minimum to go out in the Polar Icecap of last week. Teenagers! I'd beg for him to wear an extra hooded jacket, a scarf, a hat, gloves. Right! As if that did anything. Well, now he regrets it, because this past week has been spent nursing him back to health and we aren't near it. Ian started with, "I think I'm coming down with what you have, Mom." So I kept him home from school, low grade temp, scratchy throat. He did great! By evening, no temp. 3am was another story. "MOM! I have a 102.8 temperature!" The feeling is a kin to a car bomb going off next to your head. Stumbling through the darkness, bleary eyed, confused and dazed I fed him Advil and sent him to bed, but not before he emailed his teacher that he was sick and please don't fail him for not being there in the morning to do his PBA for English. (not an exam, but something like it)

The morning came with a 101.3 fever, more Advil administered and an hour later, the temp had gone up to 102.3. Crap! Opening night for Ian's showcase, and Ian decides this is a good time to get super sick. So the old hospital pediatric trick. Advil, wait 4 hours, Tylenol, wait 2 hours and back and forth you go until the fever comes into check. Phone calls galore with the director, the stage manager, a trip to the school to drop off papers due that day. Meeting with his English teacher to pick up his "purple" class schedule for the next two weeks because this is PBA time and you need that schedule or the world comes to an end. And once more there is Ed, not feeling well chauffeuring me in the car to do this and that, while he sits in the cold.

When a household is sick, everybody is sick, who takes care of the sick? The least sick person, that's who. So me, with cancer treatments, the virus that won't let go and the delicate immune system is tending to a boy who could quite possibly make her super sick. But Mom's do what they must. After hours of tender hooks, Ian's fever broke and he, the trouper that he is, insisted on doing the show. The show went on, and Ian did a terrific job, and everyone was relieved. We returned home and Ian fell into bed, and in the morning Ian got "The Grip" My poor son moaned and screamed his way through most of the day. I could do little for him except to say, "I'm so sorry, drink some water." He made it to the show last night, but as I sat in the audience near the end of the show, only I could make out the struggle Ian was going through. Pale, and fighting the cramps, he made it work. Thank God his last scene was a dramatic one, what would he have done if it was comedy, one can only guess.

This morning he lies on the couch, sprawled in what looks to be peaceful slumber, so I leave him there, hopeful that the cramping has passed and the fever has broken, and all will begin to be right with Universe once again. What a tough boy I have. Bulling through so no one was let down. I sit here in the quiet of the kitchen with only the sound of the clock ticking away and the tip-tapping of the keys on the computer and think to myself, what a crazy week. But we bulled through, all of us, and somehow we made it.

Then I think of those in Haiti and the crisis here seems somehow farcical now. I spent the week watching the horror unfold and the children who are so afraid and lost, confused and hungry, and I am helpless to hold them and tell them they will be alright, soon, safety will come to them and loving arms will protect them. But the days have turned into a week with little or no relief for them, and the food and water and protection of a blanket sits on a landing strip waiting to be delivered. HELP THEM!!! How do we, as human beings allow this to happen all over again? Why must there be a plan? Just get the food and water out there already. We open our pocketbooks and give, and watch from a far hoping the relief comes soon, but none really comes. Like a carrot dangled in front of an ass do the tons of food and water sit there on the tarmac. For me I close my eyes and picture holding children of Haiti, cradling them, singing them a lullaby, stroking there beautiful faces and whispering calming words to chase away the living nightmare. I hope they sense that somehow, that there are millions of mothers out there doing the same thing. A week of BULLING THROUGH. That's what this week has been. Small scale, catastrophic scale, bulling through. Pray for the people of Haiti. They need it the most.

As for us? We made it through our crisis this week. Tired and sore, but we go on. Life isn't so bad really when you think about it. Somewhere in the world there is someone who has it worse than you, so don't feel sorry for yourself, pray for that person to have a better day. And just Bull Through!

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

HARD DAY

January 12, 2009 Tuesday

I wanted to blog yesterday, but yesterday was a very hard day for me. I wasn't feeling well when I went to bed Sunday night, I tossed and turned with hot flashes and nausea, and blowing my nose and waking up choking on phlegm. Sorry, just telling you like it is. The thought of going to P/T was not favorable. I did not feel well. It was my last day of P/T and I was not going to be sidelined. Lauren, My P/T had given me a print out a couple of weeks ago, a cheer leading flyer. It goes like this:

If you attitude is I won't or I can't, You have 0% chance of success.

If your attitude is I don't know how, you have a 25% chance of success.

If your attitude is I want to or I wish I could, you have a 50% chance of success.

If your attitude is I believe, I can, or I will, you have a 75 % chance of success.

If you attitude is I am doing it, you have a 100% chance of success.

I woke with, "I can't", pulled myself up and forced myself to say, "I don't know how I'm going to make it there.", Then after being up for a bit, I knew I wanted to go, needed to go, ergo, "I want to go", then I made myself eat, oatmeal, of course, the kindest food on Earth. I thought, "I can do this." I noticed the clock, had just finished eating, and realized all that self-coaching was making me late for P/T. I rushed to the bathroom quickly jammed the toothbrush into my mouth, and that was all she wrote....

For the first time during my chemotherapy, the nausea got the best of me, and the kindest food on Earth turned on me, and made me pay. It wasn't pretty, and I have a very bad habit of apologizing, I guess it's something I bring with me from my childhood. Ed kept telling me to quit apologizing, but I couldn't stop. Was I apologizing to him? or to Myself? Part of me felt like I had let myself down because I puked. All this time, no puke, and now so close to the finish line, I puke?! Was I actually angry with myself for throwing up my breakfast? It was so violent, that I had to change my pants, damn having kids all those years ago, sneeze and you pee, puke and you really pee. So I'm a mess, I'm late, I'm broke, and now that I've cleaned up and changed my clothing, I have to take a cab. $$$$$ Sometimes, a hard day is just that, a hard day. I hit the ATM, grabbed a cab that almost appeared to be waiting for me (hidden blessings), and somehow, I made it uptown to P/T with 20 minutes to spare. Grabbed a bagel and a bottle of water, and gingerly nibbled like a little brown mouse on my bagel and prayed not to puke at P/T.

Lauren is a very compassionate P/T, and she felt so bad for me, so she took mercy on me on my last day of P/T and didn't push me too hard. I'll miss her. She has been a constant in a chaotic universe lately. Always happy, always supportive, always guiding. So through the Hard Day, I find little gems of Joy. The Cab right there, Lauren with her compassionate support, a Winter Day that wasn't as cold as it has been. I ended my P/T time with advice for going forward with radiation. I compression sleeve was advised for my time during radiation to continue to reduce the risk of lymph edema and where to get one. Self-lymph massage, which is something akin to a Mary Catherine Skit from SNL, and if I needed to, come back.

I returned home on the bus, and made it as far as the couch, and there I sat for the rest of day, feeling crappy, in a compozine haze which didn't do a thing for my nausea, and faded in and out of hot flashes. Got caught up on guilty pleasures like The Bachelor, and tried to cheer lead my husband as he headed out the door multiple times for Callbacks. The rest of the night was a struggle to get through, but all the time, my mantra was, "I'm doing it." and guess what? I did it. I made it through my Hard Day. So It is true, one's attitude is everything.

I feel a tiny bit better today, and I learned a lesson. Never brush your teeth within seconds of eating. It can result in less than favorable conditions.

Here's to a Good Day. One less hard to bear. Now, to help Ed feel better, he finally succumbed to my virus. He sounds horrible. Tea with honey and lemon.

I am doing it!

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

Chemo week #5

January 9, 2009 Saturday

I've made it through the week of Chemo #5. The burn, the out of body feelings, and the exhaustion were all present, but I've decided that this will not stop me from doing. I didn't do as much, but I did do what needed to be done. So I fall asleep at 8pm. So what. So what that every 30 minutes I have hot flashes. More than once I felt like Samantha on Sex and The City when she was going through her cancer treatment and hot flashes. Ripping off my wig or my scarf, tearing off sweaters or blankets, twisting on the bed to escape the heat I was putting out. Mopping my peach fuzzed pate with a paper towel over and over again. I accept it all. Food this week tastes blech! Drink, any drink tastes polluted. So what! It's part of it all, and soon it will be behind me. One more round of chemo coming at the end of the month, and then it will be over, and food will taste good again, I can have pizza! Orange Juice! Tomatoes! Oh! how I miss flavor!!!!

The cold is my enemy here in NYC, the Polar Freeze has settled in, and between the frigid temperatures and the hot flashes, it's about enough to drive a person crazy. My only fear is another virus. I'm tired of feeling like crap because of a cold. So I'll tuck in and stay put. I did get out yesterday to see my son in his first preview of the showcase he is doing. Safe Home. A play about the cost of war on one family during the Korean War. I was so proud to sit in the audience and watch my son move easily about the stage, and be engaged with the action, and deliver his lines with grace and humor. But most importantly, Ian's reactions to what was going on on stage were spot on. I found myself often pulled to him. Feeling his pain as the family tore apart. These are the moments mothers live for. To see their children excel, and hold their own with those who have more experience. So I sat with there brimming with pride.

Thoughts on Chemo....the downside: exhaustion, the burn in the throat, the nausea, the hair loss, the out of body sensation, the hot flashes.

The upside: I haven't needed to shave my legs or my armpits for months now! My skin gets a lovely glow after chemo for about a week and half. Brazilians I don't have to think about! Weight loss. Appreciation of those you love, and know they really love you. When you feel good, you take advantage of feeling good. Laughter at the worst, hope at the impossible, and courage I never knew I had.

The ups outweigh the downs. So life is good. This is temporary. My hair is growing again. I refuse to be defeated. I have plans. I love. I live. I laugh.

May you all be so lucky to find the answers I've found on this journey.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

CHEMO #5

January 7, 2010 Thursday

So I had my 5th chemo treatment on Tuesday the 5th of January. The treatment went really well, and I was out in record time. I suppose the benefit of being so sick with TWO colds during Christmas and then right after New Years. I went by myself that day because Ed had to go to the Dentist to get his tooth pulled, so I brought my reading material and read until the Benadryl kicked in and made the letters swirl on the page. Then I broke out the Ipod and drifted in and out listening to music. Had a little bite to eat and suddenly the treatment was done, and I was out by 3pm. Record time!!!! And I almost cried, because it dawned on me that chemo is almost done. ONE more and then the poison stops and the nausea fades, the IBS stops, and my hair will begin to grow back, no more wigs soon enough, healing begins, I get a break for a few weeks before radiation starts for three weeks, and then I only have to go back every 3 weeks to have the Herceptin. My journey is about to shift to a different path. The journey is still a long one, but it will begin to get easier. I'm winning! I'm so happy! I have inspired myself, because when it all started I didn't believe I could do this. Take care of myself instead of everyone else. But I'm doing it, and learning a lot about myself in the process.

Just know that if I can do this, God forbid you should face this in your life, know with certainty that you can do it too. Stay positive, keep your sense of humor, and remember to be kind to yourself, don't push yourself, and delegate. Remember why you're here, to live, to love, to care, to give. Without you, there is a hole in the Universe. Without you, something is missing. Without you, there is a little less love in a sometimes cruel world. You are important, and you matter, and you are important to the fabric of the world.

Friends have been lost this past year, and holes have been made in the fabric, but the memories never fade, and the love remains. So to those who have lost a friend to cancer, a family member, a classmate, a co-worker, they are still here with you, sitting at your shoulder, guiding you, protecting you, and whispering " I love you" whenever you feel a gentle breeze.

I may feel crappy today, but I am happy to be here, nausea and all. Happy New Year, and the days will just get better from here leading to the best year ever! And when the journey is done, this journey, a new one awaits me, and I will not be afraid to move forward. I have learned I'm stronger than I thought. And defeat is not in my vocabulary anymore. Strike it from yours as well.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2010

January 2, 2009 Saturday

As we begin 2010 it looks to be a wonderful year. My beloved Huskers didn't just win their Bowl Game, they routed Arizona. I love my Black Shirts, and the Offense came to life and played like the Huskers they were meant to be. GO BIG RED!!!! THANK YOU!!!!

I had a scare with a swollen lymph gland in my right neck before the New Year, and went to the doctor to get it checked out. The diagnosis, virus, ride it out. Better safe than sorry. So I went back to bed and opted to not go to Luigi for the rest of the year. Well, that proves that 2009 was a crappy year. I didn't get to dance in the third week of Chemo #4, and this is sad.

The New Year's Eve party at Cheryl and Burt's house was in question, but I rose to the occasion and felt better by the 31st, and brought in the New Year with good friends, much dancing (can't keep me from it, no matter what, I'll find a way to dance), yummy food, and lots of laughter. Cheryl is finished with her chemo, and she looks great! This makes me so happy. She is a warrior in this battle against breast cancer, and a role model for the rest of us. Our joy at making it through is what carries us. The bummer, no alcohol for me, Sparkling cider with kids, as the champagne flowed, but soon, I'll celebrate my New Year and I'll toast with champagne my victory of making it through chemo. So we danced the night away, I even Krumped, the kids thought I was crazy. I wore my new blonde wig, and got lots of compliments, and boy are those wigs hot! Especially when you're dancing like a fool. Horns, confetti, cheers, and kisses at Midnight, and soon we were on our way home to sleep in.

The morning came and I, as usual, rose before everyone else. So I chanted quietly and then headed up to the Center to meet Rose and bring in the New Year. What a wonderful service, full of dance (yeah! dance), much encouragement, with amazing experiences, and some super charged energy. I declared that 2010 will be my best year yet. I know that with each day it will only get better and better. By the end of January I will be done pumping poison into my body. Soon after I will do my radiation and that will only last 3 weeks, and then I only have to take the Herceptin for the rest of the year. I can handle that. My hair is coming back, and even though I'll have more hair loss over the next two chemo treatments, it's coming back. The Winter of my soul is coming to an end, and Spring is right around the corner, and I will spring forth like the crocus with vibrant color against the winter thaw.

I still have my virus, stubborn little bugger, but I'm fighting hard against it. I will win, and even if I don't feel that great, I'm happy, really happy. I don't have any money, I don't have new clothing, but what I do have is far far better than either of those two things. I have great friends, a loving family, and myself. Life is good.

So bring on 2010, bring the riches, the good fortune, the joy. I'm ready to receive it all.

My wish for all of you is to have a very healthy, wealthy, happy New Year, full of love, peace, and happiness. Don't sweat the small stuff, and act as if all the big stuff is small stuff. Keep your sense of humor, don't forget to say I love you, and most important of all, be kind to yourself. Life is short, live it, don't waste it with negative thoughts and worry. If an obstacle pops up in your path, you're smart, find a way around it, over it, or through it. Don't be too proud to ask for help, and always give a helping hand when you can. Remember without adversity how can you truly appreciate when things go well for you? Set your Goals not just where you know you can reach them, set them to the impossible setting and go for it, because nothing is impossible when you set your mind to getting it done. Dream big!

Thank you all for your support and love, it means the world to me. I love you all.

Nite!

Happy New Year!

Light and Love!

Melissa