I've decided that this is my new Theme Song for the foreseeable future. Yes, my life was going SO well over the last few months since I left Tucson. Yes, this whole cancer thing really effin' sucks. But NO, it's not the end of the world. In fact, it's not really an end, it's more of a beginning. And, to be quite honest, this diagnosis has opened up new opportunities to me that were not there before, such as my photo shoot with Ellen or my plaster session with Boots or my license to wear whatever wig I so choose to work. Life has its ups and downs, it's all just a ride and we've got no choice but to go with it. This song is my new anthem. Video and lyrics both below, if you're interested.
Jem - "Just A Ride"
Life, it's ever so strange
It's so full of change
Think that you've worked it out
Then BANG
Right out of the blue
Something happens to you
To throw you off course
And then you
Breakdown
Yeah you breakdown
Well don't you breakdown
Listen to me
Because
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
No need to run, no need to hide
It'll take you round and round
Sometimes you're up
Sometimes you're down
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
Don't be scared
Don't hide your eyes
It may feel so real inside
But don't forget it's just a ride
Truth, we don't wanna hear
It's too much to take
Don't like to feel out of control
So we make our plans
Ten times a day
And when they don't go
Our way we
Breakdown
Yeah we breakdown
Well don't you breakdown
Listen to me
Because
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
No need to run, no need to hide
It'll take you round and round
Sometimes you're up
Sometimes you're down
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
Don't be scared
Don't hide your eyes
It may feel so real inside
But don't forget it's just a ride
Slowly, oh so very slowly
Accept that
There's no getting off
So live it, just gotta go with it
Coz this ride's, never gonna stop
Breakdown
Don't you breakdown
No need to breakdown
No need at all
Because
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
No need to run, no need to hide
It'll take you all around
Sometimes you're up
Sometimes you're down
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
Don't be scared now
Dry your eyes
It may feel so real inside
But don't forget enjoy the ride
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Acceptance vs. Denial
Acceptance. –noun
1. the act of taking or receiving something offered.
2. favorable reception; approval; favor.
3. the act of assenting or believing: acceptance of a theory.
4. the fact or state of being accepted or acceptable.
It sure is hard to shoehorn this whole cancer thing into that definition, isn't it?
Denial. –noun
1. an assertion that something said, believed, alleged, etc., is false.
2. disbelief in the existence or reality of a thing.
3. the refusal to satisfy a claim, request, desire, etc., or the refusal of a person making it.
4. refusal to recognize or acknowledge.
That seems more appropriate, doesn't it?
Acceptance is a funny thing because it can be far more kinetic than expected. I find myself going for days at a time simply accepting my diagnosis, trudging ever forward on this path to Mastectomyville, unflinchingly and without question. Then suddenly, without warning, the full weight of the situation falls on my shoulders again like the 1000-pound gorilla that it is and I suddenly remember that we're not just talking about ANY 29-year-old with breast cancer, we really ARE talking about ME. And the cycle begins anew...
Denial. NO. NO WAY. I can't effin' believe this. It's not happening. It doesn't make sense. I'm too young. I've never smoked. I've never been a drinker. I've never ever been a drug-user. I'm slightly overweight but certainly not obese. Hell, I have a gym membership. I've even used it a few times. There is no reason for this and, thus, cannot be real. It just can't.
Anger. FUCK THIS. WHY ME? Why my beautiful breasts, of all things?? Why NOW, when my life has been going SO FUCKING WELL for the last few months? And why AGGRESSIVE cancer? Why not lumpectomy-worthy cancer? It fucking HAS to be bilateral fucking mastectomy-grade cancer? For the reals? For the really fucking reals? You have got to be motherfucking kidding me.
Bargaining. Deals with God(dess). If I just think some happy thoughts and be good, it'll go away. If I eat these avocado rolls for lunch instead of Wendy's, my tumor will shrink. I promise to go to the gym more and eat, like, 2 or 3 veggies a week if you'll just make my cancer diminish, Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz. Now I'll just click my tattoo three times...
Depression. Tears. Tears upon sobbing mess of tears. Vacant staring into the distance followed by laying in bed for three straight days. What's the point of getting up? I have cancer. The world is a cruel, horrible place where good people get saddled with terrible situations for no apparent reason. This sucks and I shall wallow in it because I know not what else to do.
Acceptance. It's all going to be okay in the end, I just have to get through this shit storm first. It is what it is and I can either fight or... well... not. The best thing to do is make lemonade with these painfully sour lemons and be sure to add enough sugar to lighten it up. I get to wear fun wigs and false eyelashes and other such girly girl things. I'll be done with chemo before my birthday, which will make my 30th that much bigger of a celebration. I'll have nothing left to panic about, since cancer has always been my main panic attack trigger in the first place. Once you beat your biggest fear, what else is there to panic about? My fear of butterflies? Everything else seems silly and pales in comparison. This too shall pass and I will have the harrowing tale of my survival to share for many, many years to come. And I'll grow ever closer to my friends and family along the way, as so many shoulders have been offered-up for my leaning needs.
Except that this shouldn't be happening... no, it's not really happening, it can't be...
Ah, the ebb and flow of all things. It's so hard not to get caught in the emotional undertow. We just gotta fight the pull, firmly plant our feet, and wrench ourselves out onto the beach of joy and love so as to avoid drowning in an ocean of fear and despair.
Easier said than done but never impossible.
I am a lotus, rising from the slime and muck to stand strong and beautiful above the water's surface.
1. the act of taking or receiving something offered.
2. favorable reception; approval; favor.
3. the act of assenting or believing: acceptance of a theory.
4. the fact or state of being accepted or acceptable.
It sure is hard to shoehorn this whole cancer thing into that definition, isn't it?
Denial. –noun
1. an assertion that something said, believed, alleged, etc., is false.
2. disbelief in the existence or reality of a thing.
3. the refusal to satisfy a claim, request, desire, etc., or the refusal of a person making it.
4. refusal to recognize or acknowledge.
That seems more appropriate, doesn't it?
Acceptance is a funny thing because it can be far more kinetic than expected. I find myself going for days at a time simply accepting my diagnosis, trudging ever forward on this path to Mastectomyville, unflinchingly and without question. Then suddenly, without warning, the full weight of the situation falls on my shoulders again like the 1000-pound gorilla that it is and I suddenly remember that we're not just talking about ANY 29-year-old with breast cancer, we really ARE talking about ME. And the cycle begins anew...
Denial. NO. NO WAY. I can't effin' believe this. It's not happening. It doesn't make sense. I'm too young. I've never smoked. I've never been a drinker. I've never ever been a drug-user. I'm slightly overweight but certainly not obese. Hell, I have a gym membership. I've even used it a few times. There is no reason for this and, thus, cannot be real. It just can't.
Anger. FUCK THIS. WHY ME? Why my beautiful breasts, of all things?? Why NOW, when my life has been going SO FUCKING WELL for the last few months? And why AGGRESSIVE cancer? Why not lumpectomy-worthy cancer? It fucking HAS to be bilateral fucking mastectomy-grade cancer? For the reals? For the really fucking reals? You have got to be motherfucking kidding me.
Bargaining. Deals with God(dess). If I just think some happy thoughts and be good, it'll go away. If I eat these avocado rolls for lunch instead of Wendy's, my tumor will shrink. I promise to go to the gym more and eat, like, 2 or 3 veggies a week if you'll just make my cancer diminish, Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz. Now I'll just click my tattoo three times...
Depression. Tears. Tears upon sobbing mess of tears. Vacant staring into the distance followed by laying in bed for three straight days. What's the point of getting up? I have cancer. The world is a cruel, horrible place where good people get saddled with terrible situations for no apparent reason. This sucks and I shall wallow in it because I know not what else to do.
Acceptance. It's all going to be okay in the end, I just have to get through this shit storm first. It is what it is and I can either fight or... well... not. The best thing to do is make lemonade with these painfully sour lemons and be sure to add enough sugar to lighten it up. I get to wear fun wigs and false eyelashes and other such girly girl things. I'll be done with chemo before my birthday, which will make my 30th that much bigger of a celebration. I'll have nothing left to panic about, since cancer has always been my main panic attack trigger in the first place. Once you beat your biggest fear, what else is there to panic about? My fear of butterflies? Everything else seems silly and pales in comparison. This too shall pass and I will have the harrowing tale of my survival to share for many, many years to come. And I'll grow ever closer to my friends and family along the way, as so many shoulders have been offered-up for my leaning needs.
Except that this shouldn't be happening... no, it's not really happening, it can't be...
Ah, the ebb and flow of all things. It's so hard not to get caught in the emotional undertow. We just gotta fight the pull, firmly plant our feet, and wrench ourselves out onto the beach of joy and love so as to avoid drowning in an ocean of fear and despair.
Easier said than done but never impossible.
I am a lotus, rising from the slime and muck to stand strong and beautiful above the water's surface.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Fear is counter-productive
Fear certainly has its place in human evolution. The fight or flight response is extremely important and a jolt of adrenaline has kept many a human alive in the face of all sorts of extreme situations, from animal attacks to muggings in Manhattan. Fear does serve a purpose, at times.
However, in the course of a normal day-in-the-life, fear can be counter-productive. Fear can hold us back from making necessary change in our lives. Fear can paralyze us in the face of potential happiness. And fear can also take a bad situation and make it, seemingly, ten times worse.
Today, I was terrified.
A brilliant surgeon was laying a plan before me, a plan full of life-saving and life-enhancing choices, and I froze in the face of modern medicine. It was all too much. Too much information was being lauded upon me too quickly and I could no longer process any of it. My brain shut down, the fear took over, and I fell to pieces. Hearing the details of how my breasts would be meticulously removed, rebuilt, and reconstructed over the next year was terrible. Seeing pictures of actual reconstructions was horrifying, as they did not look as I'd expected. I felt as if my womanhood and my identity were being ripped from me in the face of this abhorrent disease, this mutation over which I have no control, and at an age when such things should not be happening. After 60 minutes with the surgeon and 55 minutes of crying my eyes out, I left with shaking legs and a heavy heart, simultaneously going through three stages of grief at once: denial that any of this is really happening, anger that it actually IS happening, and depression over the loss of my perfect twins.
Two hours later, after a recovery dinner with my mother, we got a phone call that my aunt's new husband of only 10 days, who has been in the hospital all week after a mesenteric vein thrombosis caused him to lose 2 feet of bowel, is going in for another emergency surgery to remove another foot. They're not expecting him to make it through and they are out of options if this doesn't work.
I gain perspective. I have options. I have life-saving options. Many are not lucky enough to have such luxuries. Some would be happy just to be alive with their new wife, even if it means living with a colostomy bag. My vanity takes a back seat and the fear leaves me. I will live through this and I need to be grateful for it.
By the by, he made it through surgery okay. He's not out of the woods but he is much better than he was hours prior.
Sometimes, one option is all you need. You just have to put the fear aside and make the choice to affect the necessary change.
However, in the course of a normal day-in-the-life, fear can be counter-productive. Fear can hold us back from making necessary change in our lives. Fear can paralyze us in the face of potential happiness. And fear can also take a bad situation and make it, seemingly, ten times worse.
Today, I was terrified.
A brilliant surgeon was laying a plan before me, a plan full of life-saving and life-enhancing choices, and I froze in the face of modern medicine. It was all too much. Too much information was being lauded upon me too quickly and I could no longer process any of it. My brain shut down, the fear took over, and I fell to pieces. Hearing the details of how my breasts would be meticulously removed, rebuilt, and reconstructed over the next year was terrible. Seeing pictures of actual reconstructions was horrifying, as they did not look as I'd expected. I felt as if my womanhood and my identity were being ripped from me in the face of this abhorrent disease, this mutation over which I have no control, and at an age when such things should not be happening. After 60 minutes with the surgeon and 55 minutes of crying my eyes out, I left with shaking legs and a heavy heart, simultaneously going through three stages of grief at once: denial that any of this is really happening, anger that it actually IS happening, and depression over the loss of my perfect twins.
Two hours later, after a recovery dinner with my mother, we got a phone call that my aunt's new husband of only 10 days, who has been in the hospital all week after a mesenteric vein thrombosis caused him to lose 2 feet of bowel, is going in for another emergency surgery to remove another foot. They're not expecting him to make it through and they are out of options if this doesn't work.
I gain perspective. I have options. I have life-saving options. Many are not lucky enough to have such luxuries. Some would be happy just to be alive with their new wife, even if it means living with a colostomy bag. My vanity takes a back seat and the fear leaves me. I will live through this and I need to be grateful for it.
By the by, he made it through surgery okay. He's not out of the woods but he is much better than he was hours prior.
Sometimes, one option is all you need. You just have to put the fear aside and make the choice to affect the necessary change.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A whole lot of bad news
Okay, now for the horrifyingly bad news.
They basically gave me the worst news they could've given me based upon the information they have (mammogram, ultrasound, MRI, & results of tumor biopsy).
I am scheduled to have a double mastectomy, with reconstruction, on Aug 20. I'll start chemotherapy probably in September sometime. They won't know if radiation is necessary until after they check the lymph nodes, which they'll get during the mastectomy. I'll be genetically tested for the BRCA gene mutation in the next week or two and, if that test comes back positive, they'll probably remove my ovaries too because it puts me at risk for ovarian cancer.
Worst. Day. Ever.
What's next? I meet with my plastic surgeon on Tuesday to learn more about my reconstruction surgery. I meet with Oncology next Thursday to get that scary crap squared away. And in the meantime, I do my best not to fucking lose my mind.
I'm having a very hard time staying positive, trying so hard not to go to the dark and depressing corner of my mind where the Worst Case Scenarios live. Of course, I just got all of this news today so obviously I'm not expecting myself to process it all in the scant hours since the rug was pulled out from under me but still. I don't even want to "go there" because it will drive me mad.
Anyway, my first course of action is that I'm gonna go get a pedicure before heading back to school tonight. I just wanted to update everyone on the horrible fucking news. Thanks for the thoughts and prayers. I hope I'll eventually get some good news to go along with 'em...
They basically gave me the worst news they could've given me based upon the information they have (mammogram, ultrasound, MRI, & results of tumor biopsy).
I am scheduled to have a double mastectomy, with reconstruction, on Aug 20. I'll start chemotherapy probably in September sometime. They won't know if radiation is necessary until after they check the lymph nodes, which they'll get during the mastectomy. I'll be genetically tested for the BRCA gene mutation in the next week or two and, if that test comes back positive, they'll probably remove my ovaries too because it puts me at risk for ovarian cancer.
Worst. Day. Ever.
What's next? I meet with my plastic surgeon on Tuesday to learn more about my reconstruction surgery. I meet with Oncology next Thursday to get that scary crap squared away. And in the meantime, I do my best not to fucking lose my mind.
I'm having a very hard time staying positive, trying so hard not to go to the dark and depressing corner of my mind where the Worst Case Scenarios live. Of course, I just got all of this news today so obviously I'm not expecting myself to process it all in the scant hours since the rug was pulled out from under me but still. I don't even want to "go there" because it will drive me mad.
Anyway, my first course of action is that I'm gonna go get a pedicure before heading back to school tonight. I just wanted to update everyone on the horrible fucking news. Thanks for the thoughts and prayers. I hope I'll eventually get some good news to go along with 'em...
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
A smidgen of good news
I got a call from my doctor's office this morning and they said that my MRI came back good. It shows no evidence that there's cancer anywhere else in either of my breasts, just in the original site. Now, the MRI doesn't show lymph nodes so I'll still have to get those checked, but it's good to know that the rest of my left breast is okay and my right one is totally clear. Just thought I'd let all y'all know.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
I'm a soon-to-be survivor
So... ummm... I've got breast cancer. No, I'm not joking. I really do. Invasive ductal carcinoma. I'm not sure what stage it is yet but I think it's stage 2. Will get more info later when I meet with my surgeon for a consult on Wednesday.
It's so very strange. I've been having panic attacks my whole life and the majority of them are spurned on by my mild hypochondria, usually when I self-diagnose cancer of some kind or another. I can't tell you how many nights I've found myself in a downward spiral of fear and panic at the mere idea of receiving a diagnosis like this. Many a Xanax has sacrificed its life to settle my crazy ass down.
Yet since I received this news on 7/8/09, I've only had one real panic attack and it was the first night after getting the diagnosis. Sure, I cried quite a bit on Wednesday and Thursday but, since then, I've been eerily calm. I'm not sure if I'm still in shock (doesn't feel like it) or in denial (doesn't feel like that either) or if I've just come to terms with it in record time and have just started moving forward.
I figure I have two options: I can stay calm and positive, choosing to beat this and knowing this will pass, surrounding myself with laughter and the love of my friends and family, or I can cry and worry and freak out and make myself sicker & sicker. It's a very easy choice for me. I'm only 4 days into my new identity as Amber Levene: Cancer Patient, and I feel comfortable in the role and confident that it is a temporary one.
It's hard to describe. Maybe it's like being in the eye of the storm? But I'm feeling very "one foot in front of the other", "one day at a time" and all that jazz.
*shrug*
I dunno. Anyway... just wanted to share and let y'all know what's going on...
It's so very strange. I've been having panic attacks my whole life and the majority of them are spurned on by my mild hypochondria, usually when I self-diagnose cancer of some kind or another. I can't tell you how many nights I've found myself in a downward spiral of fear and panic at the mere idea of receiving a diagnosis like this. Many a Xanax has sacrificed its life to settle my crazy ass down.
Yet since I received this news on 7/8/09, I've only had one real panic attack and it was the first night after getting the diagnosis. Sure, I cried quite a bit on Wednesday and Thursday but, since then, I've been eerily calm. I'm not sure if I'm still in shock (doesn't feel like it) or in denial (doesn't feel like that either) or if I've just come to terms with it in record time and have just started moving forward.
I figure I have two options: I can stay calm and positive, choosing to beat this and knowing this will pass, surrounding myself with laughter and the love of my friends and family, or I can cry and worry and freak out and make myself sicker & sicker. It's a very easy choice for me. I'm only 4 days into my new identity as Amber Levene: Cancer Patient, and I feel comfortable in the role and confident that it is a temporary one.
It's hard to describe. Maybe it's like being in the eye of the storm? But I'm feeling very "one foot in front of the other", "one day at a time" and all that jazz.
*shrug*
I dunno. Anyway... just wanted to share and let y'all know what's going on...
Friday, July 3, 2009
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