Check up, check in, new doctor, old feelings

For some reason, I can be zooming along carelessly and free, breathing in each new day as it comes...and then I look ahead in my planner and see that I have my three month check up soon.

I log into MyChart to verify the appointment (not for a couple weeks because I'm sure someone will ask) and call to make a follow-up with my plastics that corresponds with when I'll be at the Clinic.  I still have my survivor face on.  You know the survivor face.  It's plastered on billboards and mailings.  It's in words like hope, fight, faith, strength.  The woman making the appointment takes my information. 

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry you are going through this.  My daughter is your age.  I can't even imagine.  Do you have children?"

"Yes, I do.  Very active children.  That's why I'd like to get in on the same day I'm at the Clinic if at all possible."

"Hold on, I'll get my supervisor.  Maybe she can work you in even though it's a surgery day for Djohan."

There's this expectation of survivors that I can't really put into words, but I can feel.  In some ways this expectation is great.  Case in point, a YOUNG survivor with CHILDREN gets first dibs on appointments and they will rearrange the surgeons schedule to fit me in.

Another example I have noticed, everyone loves to see me living life to the fullest.  When I post a picture, smiling and happy, it brings a sense of pride and inspiration to everyone.  I understand this flood of emotions because I feel the same way when I see a fellow survivor flourishing and happy.  You all witnessed the hellish last year of my life and now it feels good to see me living again...

But there is also a downside to the expectations that come with the word survivor. A word that will always be attached to my name..."Oh, I'm sure you know Laura.  She's the young woman from town that had cancer last year".  I don't want to always be cancer Laura and I do a great job of not letting the word define me...until it's check up time.  

I confirm my appointments and use my survivor attitude, but then I can never resist opening the test results tab on my personal online site:

 Glandular (Acinar)/Tubular Differentiation: 3 with treatment effect
Nuclear Grade: 2 with treatment effect
Mitotic Rate: 1 with treatment effect
Overall Bloom Richardson Grade: II with treatment effect

Lymph-Vascular Invasion: Extensively present

Ductal Carcinoma In Situ (DCIS):
DCIS is present
Type: Solid
Nuclear Grade: 3
Necrosis: Absent

Lymph Nodes:
Number of sentinel lymph nodes examined: 6
Total number of lymph nodes examined (sentinel and nonsentinel): 6
Number of lymph nodes with macrometastases (>0.2 cm): 1
Number of lymph nodes with micrometastases (>0.2 mm to 0.2 cm and/or
>200cells):1
Number of lymph nodes with isolated tumor cells (less than or equal to 0.2
mm and less than or equal to 200 cells): 0
Number of lymph nodes without tumor cells identified: 4
Size of largest metastatic deposit (if present): 2.5 mm

Extranodal Invasion:
Present
Amount: 0.5 mm

Pathologic Staging(AJCC 7th Edition): ypT1a(m) ypN1a

So I read this section of the report, process the information I know and match it with my online medical doctorate, and I can't breathe again.

This is where the downside of the expectations of a survivor comes into play. I know what I'm EXPECTED to think, how I'm expected to act, what people want me to feel, but I can't choose those thoughts as an appointment approaches. 

Instead of peace, there is fear. 

Instead of strength, my spirit holds on by a teeny tiny thread.  

Instead of hope, I think of milestone gifts that I want to buy my children IN CASE it comes back. 

Instead of faith, I question WHY!?!?!?!

Instead of fight, I force Aaron into conversations where we talk about how hard he expects me to fight if it comes back.

These are not new feelings.  Once you have heard the words, "you have cancer", they can't be unheard.  Just when you start living and stop worrying about dying, you have an appointment to remind you of that day that you sat in the doctors office while the doctor confirmed your greatest fear.

In conversation last week I said, "I'll see you Friday!" but I really meant SUNDAY.  In my current mindset, that AUTOMATICALLY means the cancer is back in my brain.  NOT that I'm a overactive freak with too many activities in the planner.

Or, someone that has been a pillar of strength, wisdom and grace; a person that meets and exceeds all expectations that define a survivor, has a recurrence.  And you feel like a ticking time bomb again.  ***I LOVE YOU RENEE AND I'M PRAYING LOUD AND CONSTANT!!***

I've always been a people-pleaser.   If I'm expected to do/act a certain way, most likely I will.  The majority of the time I feel like I portray "SURVIVOR" well, but as an appointment approaches and I compile the list of questions for my new doctor (yes, Holly left the Clinic.  No, I don't want to talk about it.  It sucks and I'm not happy), it's much more difficult to shut the doubt out of my mind.

So this is me checking in with you, but also with myself.  I'm not excited to meet the new doctor, but I have thought about it and another set of hands and eyes can't be a bad thing, right?!  Maybe he'll be really hot...never mind, I just googled him.  Maybe he'll be really funny!  Either way, Holly picked him specifically for me, so there must be a good reason and if he's not a good fit, I'll go oncologist shopping.

Still smiling, but hugging a little more tightly.  Sitting on the porch at night with my hubby instead of zoning out in front of the television.  Going back for the extra kiss during whack-a-mole bedtime after a long day. Breathing in the smell of the monsters when they climb onto my lap and softly touching their soft hair as it brushes against my face. Folding myself in Aaron's arms when I walk in the door instead of immediately starting the housework. 

Hopefully you will do the same.

All my love,

Hot vs Beautiful Convos with crackheads...I mean my family

 Keegs: Dad, do you think Mom is hot? (Giggle giggle giggle)

Ron: What?

Keegs: There's a boy at STARS that tells me that Lilly is hot. Is Mom hot?

Lilly: Ew, he's gross, Keegan.  Tell him not to say that. (Camille quietly studies all of our faces for any type of reaction)

Ron: Yes, bud, I think Mom is hot, but more importantly I think she's beautiful.

Keegs (dying laughing):  YOU THINK MOM'S HOT.  YOU THINK MOM'S HOT!

Ron: Yes, I do.  But I love her because she's more than just hot.  What makes her beautiful is the stuff in her heart.  I love the way she treats people and the way she thinks about things.....

Keegs (Interrupting and dying laughing): YOU THINK MOM'S HOT!! YOU THINK MOM'S HOT!!

Mom:  Give up and try again in a few years, honey.  BUT, I am pretty hot!! ;)

(I mean the gay bartender did take two photos of my FOOBS when I asked him to take a picture of Aaron and I on our anniversary date!  Ok, so MAYBE he really only took the foob pictures to see if I'd say anything to him and ask him to take another photo, but still!)

Hopefully, the monsters will notice how much fun we have together and realize that it's not all about how "hot" someone is.

 Always entertaining with Keegan though!  Never know what that little boy will come up with!! (I'm sure he gets the insanity from his father!!) Perfect example:

Fine, I'm the green texts.  I take full responsibility for messing up the monsters:)

Laughter is the best medicine,

It's Not JUST a Game

Daren wrote a post about youth sports.  I LOVE it (and I’m actually not going to contradict any of his points;))! You should TOTALLY read it if you haven’t yet because it’s a great post.  You can read it here: http://publiclookin.blogspot.com/2013/10/guest-post-its-just-game.html

But to me, it’s not JUST a game.

It’s so much more.

Most of the time when I fill out the sports registration forms for the monsters I do NOT mark the coaching box at all.  The majority of the time I create my own box with an asterisk or two: *Will assist if needed*.  Even when I think to myself, “DON’T MARK A BOX.  BE A PARENT!!!” I receive an email that says, “Hey, I signed you up as my assistant. I hope you don’t mind.”

And, I don’t. I don’t mind because I love all of the little monsters.  During the season they become part of my family.  I see them almost as much as the monsters that destroyed my stomach and each one of them is special to me. I understand the importance of youth sports and would never want to rob any monster of the opportunity due to lack of volunteers because...

To me, it’s not just a game.

It’s a chance to encourage determination.  We have a big game tomorrow night (tonight as of this posting…GO CATS) and more than half of our team showed up at the batting cage for nearly THREE hours at an OPTIONAL practice that I didn’t even attend.   They are striving and working to be the best at what they do. What if we all had this type of determination at our place of employment or better yet, at being the best person we can be?

It’s a chance to build trust and teamwork.  One of my monsters was part of a team that taught the pitcher to run the ball to first base every time and it infuriated me. Not because I didn’t understand that it was easiest way to get the runner out at that age, but because it was telling the monsters not to trust their teammates (and as a lover of the game, I want them to learn the correct way to play)!   So many times in life the quickest, less complicated way to complete a task is to do it yourself. However, when you are part of a team, this strategy builds resentment and anger very quickly and certainly does not encourage teamwork.

Ahhh, teamwork!  We had one game that the monsters lost their minds and started to crumble on the field.  When I went out to huddle they were all pointing fingers at each other and blaming everyone other than themselves.  (I have 8-11 year old monsters on the team and sadly, this finger pointing starts young and never really ends as we age!)  I looked around the huddle and I asked if they had each made an error this year. I asked them if they had each struck out while up to bat this year.  Once they were quiet, I told them that you can’t point fingers because nobody intentionally messes up.  Everyone needs to support and encourage each other to be the best player and team we can be.  Teamwork and trust are hard to nurture, but they are necessary skills that are important the remainder of their lives.

It’s a chance to learn respect and independence.  At the beginning of the season there were monsters (MINE INCLUDED) that instinctively rolled their eyes at me when I attempted to present advice to them.  Can you imagine if you rolled your eyes at your boss when they asked you to change something?  (OK, everyone knows that I totally roll my eyes at my bosses, but not when it’s about work/work product!)  I haven’t CAUGHT any eye rolls since I mandated push-ups for every eye roll.  I haven’t had to pick up equipment in weeks because they know if I pick it up, they are running to get it back.  They ask politely to leave the dugout for bathroom breaks or band-aids, but no longer ask me to find their gloves between innings because I’ve told them that’s not the coaches’ job.

It’s a chance to teach humility and confidence.  We played a great game against a top team during the regular season and the very next game…we stunk it up!  Everyone needs a wake up call sometimes; a reminder that there is always someone/some team that is better. As they practice and grow, they are seeing their hard work pay off.  They are getting on base more often.  They are making more outs in the field.  They know they can beat any team if they work together and play hard.  The game is teaching them the difference between confidence and cocky.

It’s a chance to learn and grow while having fun with friends.  It’s a chance to learn dignity in losing; and grace in winning.  It’s not just a game.

Sports are such a huge and wonderful part of my childhood that I am honored when I'm asked to coach.

Just like the monsters that trashed by body, these girls drive me INSANE. They bring me to tears because I am so PROUD of them.  They teach me more lessons about life than I can ever teach them. When I make hard decisions and they aren’t happy with me, it breaks my heart, but I remember that disappointment is also a huge part of life and it’s not my job to shelter them from it.  (I haven’t broke out in “YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT” yet, so this season’s going fairly well;)) Sometimes they don’t listen and I have to be stern.  Other times they are so funny that I forget they are monsters and not my friends.

Their smiles melt my heart.  Their tears break it.

It’s not JUST a game, but so much more.

Win or lose, I’m so proud of them!

 GO NAVY SEALS!!