It's been a while...

It has been a long while since I looked at this site. A good thing yes... Today was a good day. Yesterday I had my 6 month scans. A Pet/CT scan and an MRI. Is it sad that I am now so used to the scans that I am starting to fall asleep in the tubes? LOL, the MRI tech was getting mad because I would fall asleep and twitch, then they had to do the sequence again... He kept talking to me every so many minutes to make sure that I was still awake. After the scans my nerves set in. Luckily, work has been so busy that I haven't really had much time to think about anything else. My appointment with the oncologist was today. The moment I left work I was a total wreck. I think I cried the whole way home. I prayed for strength and courage. But I knew that one word from the doctor could turn my world upside down. Just one word.

I got to my appointment an hour early. Anxious? Why yes... I just wanted to know. I gave it to God. I put it in his hands and asked that he take care of my daughter and give me strength. They led me to the room and took my vitals. Blood pressure, perfect. Pulse: 132. Just a wee bit nervous. As I was walking to the room I overheard the doctor order a same day MRI for a patient whose cancer spread to their bone. I just about tossed my cookies.  The 132 pulse rate makes more sense now, huh? He finally came into the room and starts off by telling me everything is fine and I have nothing to worry about. This is why I love my doctor. He hasn't seen me in six months and he can read me like a book. I am cancer free. We talked more about my case. Things that will never go back to normal, things to look out for. He was really happy about my weight loss and to hear that I turned vegetarian. Told me I was doing a good job and it was very apparent. I don't have to see him for another six months.

Today, is not only the day that I found out that I am still cancer free. It is also my anniversary. Today, nineteen months ago, I was declared disease free. And I am happy to report that I am still cancer free. When I was first told that I was cancer free, I was shocked. I knew that I had a long road ahead still with the chemo and radiation treatments, but I kicked cancer's butt. I was ready to take on anything. Now 19 months later, I feel like I have not done anything that I wanted to do. I wanted to make a difference. Liposarcoma is such an obscure cancer. I have only met one other person that fought it. I have met other types of sarcoma survivors, but even those were still few and far between.

In this next year I have three goals that I would like to achieve. First, I want to walk a 5k. Cancer took a good amount of my muscle. I want to work to show that even though cancer took my muscle, I am strong enough to overcome it physically. So I will be getting off my lazy bum and making it happen. Second, I want to make a difference in someone's life. I found an organization that matches survivors to patients usually with the same type of cancer. They call and visit during their treatments. I would like to volunteer and help someone with their journey. I think it would also help me with some of the issues and fears I face as well. Third, I will start writing my manuscript. It will be therapeutic for me to get it all out (bonus: no co-pays on therapy bills!) and hopefully if I can get it published, may end up helping someone on their own personal journey. Topping it off with graduation next semester. What an awesome year ahead!

and so the wait begins

I hate this. I feel sick and nervous. They completely threw me off this morning before my scans. They told me that I was scheduled for a Pet/CT scan and then the MRI. Nope. First up was the MRI. I really hate MRIs. The machine is tiny and loud. I also thought that I was going to get to listen to music but no, they handed me a pair of earplugs. They stuff me into this tube for twenty minutes and then they bring me out to start the IV contrast. So, while he was getting me ready the guy, in a really thick accent asks me, "So how long have you had the mass?" Panic began to set in. I looked at him and asked "So you saw a mass in my leg?? Because I had the mass removed." He began to trip all over his words. I am so freaked out! Why would he say that if he did not see a mass? Then he asked my history. I told him how I had the two surgeries, chemo and radiation. He had no clue that I went through any of this. I am so scared right now. I started to cry. For the rest of the time I was doing the MRI I cried. Then I cried in the waiting room waiting for my next scan. My mom told the next guy what the first guy did and he was so nice and attentive. The scan was a little different because they wanted to focus more on my lungs. They let my mom sit in the room with me.

I couldn't focus after that. Once I left I was just crying. I thought back over the past year of all the surgeries and the pain. The chemo and radiation. All of the heartache that I put everyone through. How did I get through all of it? And how could I possibly do it again? I drove straight to the church. I kneeled before the altar and prayed. I know that if it is His will, I will have to go through it again. But I asked for Him to carry me through it. I could be worrying about nothing right now. It could be just a misunderstanding. Either way I need prayers. I do not see my oncologist until Thursday. Plenty of time to go crazy worrying about the results.

My Nerves are Rattled again.

So it is that time yet again. Three glorious months have past by and wouldn't you know, I have started to feel normal. Though, one might ask what actually is normal? Are any of us really normal to begin with? Well, by that I mean of the non-cancer variety. The people that walk around without a care in the world. Of course I know that have some cares, but you get my point. The last three months have been great. I am back to school and hitting the books hard. My last year at Phoenix has officially begun. I am a Senior, can you believe it? In one year I will be walking across that stage in my cap and gown. I have put on some amazing events in my local area for the girl scouts. Many of you know that I love girl scouting, it's my passion! We held an awesome twilight camp for them too! I took my baby girl on a weekend trip to Austin to get out of town and visit my best friend. We had an absolute blast exploring Austin. I walked in the Relay for Life. Oh Yeah! That was an amazing night! I walked a mile, a WHOLE mile! Of course, it was not all at one time. I would walk a lap and rest and then walk another lap. But I did it! And when I was finishing my survivor lap the North Shore ROTC gave me a big HOOAH. That is about when the tears started streaming down my face. I did it. I beat cancer. That is when I realized, I will never be normal again. Cancer has changed me, for the better of course. I smell the roses and have even started to enjoy watching the little lizards in the garden. I appreciate my family and my daughter. She is still my rock, the glue that holds me together.

It is so weird though, because on Monday I will have to step back into the Cancer Patient shoes. I have my three month Pet/CT and MRI on Monday. I am so nervous. My follow up is on Thursday, the 12th. I am praying that my scans come back clean and healthy. I feel fine. The funny thing is that I look back over the past year and I cannot believe that I went through all of the treatments. Yes, my leg is limited and I know they took out a fair amount of the muscle. It does sort of hurt here and there but it is not like the crippling pain from after the surgery or even the pain that I remember from the tumor pressing down on my nerve. It is just faint phantom pains that my surgeon said were normal from the healing process. Electrical tings of everything still trying to boot back up. I wish that I could fast forward to Thursday. I hate the whole waiting thing.

So, I am asking for prayers. Prayers of strength, that I am still cancer free! Prayers for my family, especially my daughter, who is finally starting to understand more about what I went through. Prayers that this will all be behind me and that it will never come back.

A Second chance

I feel as though I have been given a second chance. Not exactly a redo, but a wake up call. An opportunity to look back on my life and find all of the imperfections that I am not happy with and fix them. The first thing I really need to work on is my health. I want to make sure that I am doing everything I can possibly do so the cancer does not come back. I know, this is crazy talk! I have no control over these "bad cells" forming but in my head, yes I do. I want to make sure to keep calm and stress free, active and healthy. I checked this book out from the library...
http://www.google.com/books?printsec=frontcover&id=g0Fpf0mPXmQC#v=onepage&q&f=falseAnitcancer: A New Way of Life

The guy was diagnosed with Brain Cancer at the age of 31 (I was 30 when I was diagnosed) and it was totally out of the blue (just like mine). Actually, it was just by chance that he volunteered for an MRI when one of their volunteers for a study did not show up. I can relate to all of the feelings and emotions that he expressed in the book. Even down to the guilt that he had when calling people to "break the bad news." When I was first diagnosed, it was the week before Mother's Day. When I was finally able to speak about the diagnosis without getting choked up, it was that Friday or Saturday before Mother's Day. I refused to call most of my family and friends that weekend because it was their special holiday and I felt guilty for telling them that I was diagnosed with cancer and ruin their day.

The book is a really good read, though there is a lot of medical jargon. I skip some of the parts about the studies and statistics... I do not like statistics and strongly believe that no matter what your cancer type, stage, age, etc. you are not a number. Some medical journal with a bunch of numbers in it is not going to determine your fate. You make the decision of how hard you are going to fight and how much faith your are going to have. But the book does talk about a New Way of Life. All of us should be aware of what we put in our bodies and how we live. I need to pay extra attention to what I eat as well. I am not going to turn into a tree hugging, grass eating hippie overnight. No, but I have made a decision to eat local, organic produce to start. Then I will start working on cutting out all of the sugars and other oh so yummy foods that I will miss so much. But I would rather live a long and healthy life with my daughter. I have learned that the green leafy carrot tops are edible and they combat the growth of tumors. Who knew!?! They don't taste very good, but hey I need as much help as I can get so Huzzah for Carrot Greens! I just chopped them up into teeny tiny pieces and threw them in with my mixed green salad. By the way, raw kale tastes awful! But remember, it is crazy healthy for you! It has been linked to lowering your risk for at least five cancers and it has anti-inflammatory benefits (chronic inflammatory = a breeding ground for tumors). I encourage you to look at what you are putting in your bodies. It is better to take preventative measures than trying to fight off something for the rest of your life...

One year just around the corner...

The past few months have been a little hard. Last February was when I first discovered the tumor. Though at that time, I had no idea what it was. I was terrified because I knew what I did not want it to be. The people who were in my life at the time reassured me that there was no way that it was a tumor. I knew that it hurt, a lot. And I knew that whatever it was, it should not be there. I also knew that the nurse practitioner that I was seeing was doing no good so I found another doctor to get a second opinion.
About this time last year, I already had my first MRI and was told that it was a mass. One that must be removed, which meant surgery. Ugh, the only surgery I ever had was to get my wisdom teeth removed. I also heard a word that I refused to Google. Sarcoma. This was the worst case senario. First, they said it was a hematoma, worst case senario it would be a mass. Then they told me that it was a mass, more than likely a collection of fat, worse case senario a Sarcoma. I did not want to know what that meant because it did not sound good.

My first surgery was April 18th, I believe, or somewhere around there. So about this time, I had seen the surgeon and was making preparations for the surgery. Preparing myself mentally, spiritually.  Preparing my daughter of what to expect... Little did I know, that it was just the beginning of a very long journey.

This past year has been a huge test in all aspects. I never thought that I was a strong person, but when you are put in a situation where there is no other choice your true strength shows. I owe it all to Him. I pray daily for strength and for all of my fears to be turned into courage. I ask that He not walk beside me through this journey, but to carry me through it instead. I placed my life in His hands and trusted that He would get me and my family through it. Here I am one year after my first surgery, celebrating Easter with my family. I am truly blessed and I pray that all of you enjoy your many blessings this Easter.

Goodbye port! I will miss you, but not really...

This morning I woke up and my stomach was uneasy. Port removal day. Excited and scared all mixed up. We dropped off my daughter and I drove to the hospital. Check in was quick, I have done it so many times before so I knew the drill. I changed and waited for them to come in and tell me about the complications. Signed release papers. Again, kind of sad that I know the drill. The nurse that drew my blood was not good at all. She put the IV in an odd place on my arm. It hurt so bad! Then she could not draw blood from it, so what does that mean? Another stick, yay! Finally, I was on my way up. Luckily the patient transport guy had a sense of humor and had me laughing on the way up. That is always a good thing. When I got to the holding room, I could hear the lady next me - we were only separated by a curtain. She was old, r e a l l y old. She was there to get her port installed so that she could start chemo. I felt bad for her. I wanted to tell her that it was going to be alright, but I do not think that she understood what was going on. Then I felt bad because when the nurse came to talk to me, we were laughing and joking and celebrating. The nurse made a big deal about how good this day was and how far I have come. I really appreciated it, but I still felt bad for the lady next to me. As they wheeled her out, I said a prayer for her. Then as they wheeled me in I realized that in the rush of things, I forgot to pray for me! So as I was shimmying over to the table I was praying my little heart out.

The doctor told me that there were two options. I was confused and slightly hoping that one option was going to be to remove it with his Jedi mind trick rather than slicing into me. The nurse popped in and said no, I need the juice. Then I realized he wanted to remove it without the mild sedation and I started to laugh telling him no, please start the drugs now. I also asked if I could keep the port and they explained that it was biohazard and they do not allow people to keep them anymore. I didn't think to take my phone with me into the surgery, but if I did I could have had them take a picture of it. Interesting. Before I new it, the drugs were in and they started numbing the area. I could feel when they started, so they had to give me a little more to numb the area. I didn't even feel when they pulled the port out. Then there was a bit of excitement. Apparently, there is a small plastic valve that goes between the port and the tube. It was not there. It also was not in the cavity of where the port was. They had another guy come and look to make sure nothing was left behind while another guy was pulling up my scans from when it was installed. Then they did a chest xray (remember I am still opened up at this point) to make sure that the valve was definitely not there. I start freaking out right about then when I realize I am still open and exposed. They finally pull the scans from the installation and realize that the valve was not there to begin with. They ensure that everything is fine and begin to stitch me up.

When I get back down to recovery, they have a tray waiting for me and I see this lady walk by. Ahh, a familiar face! You have to remember, I was still loopy from the cocktail they gave me. I looked her and was like, "Hey, I know you! Your are from the Cancer Center! Do you remember me!?!?" We talk and catch up since I have not seen her in months. She is doing good, you know considering. The time after goes by so quick. By the time I was done with my tray, they were taking the IV out (which I have a lovely ginormous bruise from) and I was on my way. On the way home, I touched my neck. It freaked me out for a minute because I could not feel the tail from the port. Panic set in for a few seconds when I realized, duh, it was just removed - you are not going to feel it anymore. It will be something to get used to.  I took a nap when I got home, but then the pain woke me up. Wish I had another day off to sleep, but off to work in the morning...

Separation anxiety?!?

I am getting very nervous. When I was at my appointment on Thursday, the doctor cleared me to get my port removed. Jokingly, I told the nurse that I would like to have it taken out the next day. She said OK and began to write that date down and I freaked out. Told her no, I was kidding and that I have to psych myself up for it. So we settled on Monday. Tomorrow. I had my port installed in June of last year. I cannot believe that tomorrow, I will be on my way to the hospital to have it removed. It is kinda weird. I have developed this odd relationship with my port. I hate it and cannot wait until the day I have it removed. That will be a huge mile stone for me. But on the other hand. It has been with me for almost a year now. It will be weird not having it there. Not having to go and get it flushed every month. Not being able to feel it when I move my neck. Then I wonder if we are rushing into having it removed. Should I keep it in just a bit longer, just in case?? Then again, this doctor has so much experience, I am sure he knows what he is doing...

Some have asked me if I am going to keep it. It can be my trophy, my badge of honor. Heck, I did pay for it after all. But then some would rather throw it out and not think about it ever again. I am still not sure. I do know that I am not excited about the surgery tomorrow. I was a nervous wreck when I had it installed. They don't knock you out or strap you down. They gave me the equivalent to a six pack and told me to lay down and stay still. Ugh! So again, asking for prayers for the procedure tomorrow.


Just one more step closer to being somewhat normal...



As I have gone through this journey, I found a set of videos that have helped. I cried, I laughed, I was able to relate. Though I did not name my port, we have gone through a lot. I must say that this video is not for the squeamish, but it is kinda funny...

not exactly the results I was looking for.

It was a nerve wracking day. My stomach started to turn the farther into the day I got. My appointment was not until 3pm, so all I could do was think about what lies ahead. I prayed, a lot. I prayed for strength, for a good scan, everything. The doctor came in and took a seat. You can never tell from his expression because even when it is extremely good news he looks solemn. He asked me how I was doing and if I have been doing anything different. I just wanted to know how the scan was and he said first lets talk about how you are. There I knew that something could be wrong. I told him about my leg swelling. I thought perhaps, it could be from the exercise. I told him it was not much, but I was getting more activity in daily. I also told him that it is the same swelling that I got from the radiation and if I elevate my leg or sometimes overnight the swelling goes away. There is slight pain, but I do not have to take medication for it.

He continued to tell me that it all sounded good and it explains the scan. The scan is designed to basically light up any hot spots in the body that are malignant. Something I already knew. He went on to explain that sometimes, the reading is not accurate because there could be other possibilities of why an area would light up. There are also different levels of concern. A four, for example could be a possible inflamation or infection and a 15 or 20 would show cancer cells. He said that my leg is inflamed, this would be a result of the radiation and activity. I have to get a measuring tape and record the measurements of my thigh. He also suggested that I continue to exercise on a regular basis and continue to diet. Another PET/CT scan will be done four months from now and an MRI. If I continue to have swelling that will not get better or higher pain levels then I will have to go back sooner. He was confident that this is normal and that it will not turn into anything more. Since I have had two surgeries, six rounds of chemo and 30 radiation treatments the area in my leg is scarred and tougher than it was before. This will show as an abnormality on the scans.

I am trying to be happy and thankful for the results, but I am still scared. I wanted to hear the words clean scan and disease free. High fives all around! Instead I hear that the scan has lit up, but not to worry it might be ok. We will see in four months. I hate this waiting game. Waiting to see if something may or may not return. The doctor was confident that the scans were good enough that the port can be removed. I almost want to keep it in for another four months just in case. How sick is that? The only thing I can do now is pray. I put this in God's hands and I pray for his guidance. I ask anyone who reads this to continue prayers. It almost feels like I have had such a long journey, but in reality the journey ahead is just as hard if not harder. The unknown of what lies ahead.

Saying goodbye to a friend.

Today was rough. The memorial service was held for my friend Lynn. I was sad when I heard about the passing of Lynn. A part of me though, understood that it was time. She led a wonderfully long life that was full of many blessings. I went to the service not knowing how it was going to hit me. Sitting there listening to the music and watching the slide show of pictures from throughout her life made me cry. I do miss her and it feels weird knowing that I will not see her at the troop meetings anymore. But most of all, this is the first person that I have known to pass that had cancer since I was diagnosed. It hit a little too close to home for me. I am glad that she is not suffering anymore and she can finally rest now, but it scared me.

I am waiting to get my test results. Waiting to see if my life will be able to stay on this path back to normality or if it will get flipped upside down again. I am so scared. I want a long life full of many blessings. I want to see my daughter graduate and get married. I want to do so much more, travel, finish school. I hate that I have to go through this. Cancer freaking sucks.

Worried.

My leg hurts. It is sore and does not feel right. I am thinking it is only because my nerves are all upset. The upcoming scan has got me thinking too much. Though, I have been much more active. It feels swollen and sore, but I walked so much this weekend. Praying to God that everything will be alright.

So, I finally found a survivor forum. The original post was made three years ago, so I am not sure how these people are doing now. There are still new posts being made every month though. I guess someone else was feeling exactly what I was and posted that they were looking for long term survivors of sarcoma. It was good and bad reading their stories. So many of them have had to battle it year after year, but 40 years later (and one leg short) still cancer free. But then you get those cases where they found it early, got it out, did their treatments and 20 years later still nothing new. I laughed, I cried - a lot! Many of them posted that the pain does not go away. That they are very active with runs and relays despite having a portion of their muscle removed. They just pay for it with pain and discomfort. I keep reminding myself that pain is to be expected. I mean, come on - they removed my muscle about the the size of a fist. Gone, not there anymore. Of course it is going to hurt. You just do not bounce back from that sort of thing and carry on. It will take time and effort to get back and train the surrounding muscle. I will get there.

I registered for the Relay for Life today. I am really excited for this! I will walk in the survivor lap and I will eventually sign up Mom and Evelyn for the caregiver walk. I also want to light a Luminaria in the memory of my friend that just past. I know it is just a lap or so, but it will mean so much to me to be able to participate in this event with others just like me.

My nerves are rattled.

I am getting nervous about the upcoming scan. The imaging place called me on Friday to cancel my appointment for Monday. Apparently the insurance will not approve the scan. They are waiting on the doctor to send over additional clinicals which he has not done yet. They approved the last two scans, so I am not sure what the problem is. It is a $6,000.00 scan, so there is no way I can pay for that if the insurance does not approve it. The scan has been rescheduled for Tuesday. Hopefully, they will clear it all up by then. I hate these scans. They are awesome, but horrible at the same time. They can see everything which is good, because if your are going to have a fighting chance, you must catch it early. But on the other hand, I almost feel like I am waiting. Waiting to see how the next chapter of my life will play out. Waiting to hear those words. Clean scan. That is all I want. I am not looking forward to the results day on Thursday. The day my life can be flipped upside down in a heartbeat.

I have been looking around Facebook and some other blogs for foundations or people that have sarcoma. I did not like what I found. Most of the foundations, obviously, are named for people that did not make it through the fight. I also found a few blogs of people that were diagnosed with sarcoma. I started following them so I could come back and read them when I had more time. Well, turns out they lost their battle. It is so discouraging! I understand that Sarcoma is an extremely rare cancer. I get it. We are talking 1% small. Funding is a big issue. The more money they raise the better the research. What makes sense? Well, lets put all of the worse case scenarios on the front page. I understand the reasoning. But I would like to see the survivors. I want to see all those wonderful faces that have made it through this battle stronger and better than before. I was lucky enough to talk to two survivors of sarcoma when I was first diagnosed. One of which had the same type I did. I wish there was a local support group. To voice my concerns and fears to someone who can honestly say been there, done that, got the Tshirt, no you are not crazy and this is how I dealt with it.

I lost a dear friend yesterday. She was the grandmother to one of my scouts. When I first met her, I learned about her story and battle with cancer. She was a fighter and a survivor. Her cancer came back around the time I found my tumor last February. She gave me advice and most of all she gave me strength. I saw how strong she was when she talked about her cancer. It seemed like nothing could get her down. She always had a smile on when I saw her. She was already in chemo when I started mine, so we could compare notes, so to speak. The chemo was worse for her this time. She fought until the very end. I am glad that she finally made her way home and is no longer in pain. I will always remember and admire her. She was a true inspiration to me in my time of need. I pray for her and her family that she left behind. I think it is fitting that I leave her with this Irish blessing.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Everything happens for a reason.

It is funny how things fall into place. The universe has a way of placing people in your life who can really make a difference. My Pet/CT scan is coming up next week. This will be my third scan. I am not nervous about the scan itself. Having to lay in a tunnel everyday for 25 days of radiation treatments has helped with that. I am nervous about getting my results. My leg has been sore for the past week. I bought myself an elliptical and have attempted to work out a little bit every day. Seven minutes a day is what I am up to now. I do not want to push too hard. I am so much more active now. I pray that this is the reason why my leg has been bothering me. I try not to worry about the scan, but it is so hard not to.

I went to a girl scout event Saturday night with my daughter. One of the speakers was Sandy with Project Pink. The Young Survival Coalition was spreading the word about breast cancer. The founder of the Girl Scouts died from breast cancer, so the ladies were there to speak to the girls. When I walked in the room, she was already starting to speak and I heard her voice which sounded very familiar. Then I got a good look at her and had a pretty good feeling that I knew who she was. I made my way to the door so I could catch her as she was leaving. Turns out she visited the Cancer Center one day when I had my chemo treatments. That day she gave me a pin from the Young Survival Coalition. YSC is geared more for Breast Cancer, but there are not that many foundations out there for Sarcoma. No matter how you look at it, Cancer is Cancer no matter what type it is... That day at the center she told me her story and it gave me so much hope! I still wear that pin on my sweater. I thought I would be able to go up to her, tell her my story and keep a strong face. Boy was I wrong! As soon as I told her that I was one of the ladies in the cancer center getting chemo when she visited, I lost it. Tears were streaming down my face! I told her how much her visit meant to me. How much hope she gave me. How that random act of giving me a silly little pin helped me more than she could have realized at the time. We talked about how hard life after cancer can be. I met her friend who is also a survivor and for the first time in a while, I felt like I was around people who really understand. Just five minutes of talking with those ladies made me feel like I was normal, not the odd ball trying to fit in. She took a picture with me and I walked back to my kid feeling really good. The moms there asked what was wrong and I cried again of course. My daughter came up and I told her who the lady was. My kid loves the pin she gave me and the story behind it. She was upset because I didn't grab her and take her over there. She wanted to meet her too.

I am amazed at how things tend to work out. When I am feeling down or my hope starts running low something happens in my life to give me a boost. Who would have thought that six, seven months after chemo I would be at an event that just so happened to have a cancer survivor there, who visited the center during one of my treatments. I am a true believer that everything happens for a reason. I have often thought that eventually, I would like to volunteer one day and be one of the survivors that go to the center to visit with the patients. I want to be that person that inspires hope in someone else. Seeing Sandy reaffirmed that for me. This is my chance to make a difference in someones life.

The transition to normality.

Two months have past since my radiation treatments were completed. Two months, I still cannot believe it. The radiation burn on my thigh continued to get worse before it go better. Fortunately during my last five treatments, they were able to block a section of the burn with lead so it could heal as they blasted the other section with the radiation. I still have hyperpigmentation, but for the most part it is now healed. I am also getting more sensation back in my leg. This is both good and bad. On one hand, I can feel my leg again. It is not that muted feeling I had after the surgeries. On the other hand, I can really feel my leg. I hate it. Feeling the crater that was left when they removed the tumor and muscle. It makes me sick. I get this queasy feeling in my stomach. I need to start working out. Now that the burns are healed and I can move around easier, I need to start training the muscle that is left and strengthen it. Perhaps tomorrow.

I am still tired. I cannot stay up late like I used to. After work I just want to sink into the couch and watch Doctor Who. The other day I laid down just to rest my eyes and I was out by 7:30pm. I did start my classes again. This is the third week of my first class. It is so hard to concentrate and writing papers, that was amusing. Looking back on it, I can remember at least three things that I did not do that I should have. I have been on leave since October. I did not think it would be this hard to get back into the swing of things. Boy was I wrong.

I keep forgetting things left and right. You would think I still have ChemoBrain. I need to start stapling post-it notes to my shirt or writing on my hand because I forget everything! Twice have forgotten my appointment to get my port flushed. I had to schedule it at the end of the day tomorrow, because I knew that I would forget to go in the morning. The hardest part is trying to get used to not having as many doctor appointments. Sometimes I feel like they just set me free and forgot about me. I have another scan next month. If it comes back clean, then we can talk about removing the port. That will be a blessing.

This last weekend felt somewhat normal. I actually headed out with a friend to a con. It is just hard trying to get back to the land of the living. I can have a normal day and then all of the sudden it hits me and I get a rush of feelings. The terror I felt when I first noticed the tumor. When I was first diagnosed or laying in the bed waiting for surgery. The chemo and radiation. Being alone. This wave of emotions is crippling. I want to cry and I wonder how I got through it all. This last year has gone by so fast. It feels so surreal. Like at any moment I will wake up and it was all a bad dream. If only...

Ringing the Bell.

I have not posted in a while so I will try to catch you up. The radiation burn got worse and continued to get worse. I did not know that the radiation keeps working on you for seven days after the treatment is over. So before it gets better is must get worse. There is no way around it. The burn started to blister and then the blisters popped. It was disgusting. I have had just the smallest sun burns before but it was nothing compared to what I was experiencing. Then after the blisters was brand new, delicate pink skin. I had to go to the wound clinic daily for about a week. Then it went to just once a week.

My Christmas this year was amazing. You never realize how much you take for granted until you almost get it taken away. I enjoyed every minute of the decorating and the shopping. The cooking and cleaning. The whole time thanking God that I was given a chance to enjoy this time with my family. To see the joy on my daughter's face. New Year's Eve was great too. I was moving around better by then, but still not at my best. The fireworks got a little crazy and some flipped over and shot at us. It was so funny! I got to spend the holiday with some of my closest friends and loved every minute of it. Ready to start a new year happy and healthy.

I finished my last radiation treatment right before the end of the year. I rang the bell. Oh, how good it felt to ring that bell! You ring it three times to show that you have finished your treatment. It still makes my eyes tear to think about the bell. I can't believe I did it. I kicked Cancer's butt and I am alive to tell the tale. In the last year, I went through two surgeries, six intense cycles of chemo and 30 radiation treatments. Now I am done. When I first started my treatments, I looked at the calendar and thought, my God, how am I ever going to get through this. It seemed like so long ago, but time passed so quickly. I am not out of the woods yet, but I am on my way.

My support group was amazing. To my Aunt who drove me everywhere and sat with me during treatments. To my Mother who took care of me in my time of need. To my Brother and Sister who were there for me through it all. To all of my family and friends who were my words of encouragement and my angels in prayer. To my sister girl scouts who were so understanding, you helped me and my girls out so much! To all of my daughter's teachers who helped make this experience less painful for my daughter with helpful chats, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen and backgammon games that brought her home with smiles from ear to ear. Words cannot express how each of you have touched my heart and I am eternally grateful for all of the love, hope and help that you all have given to me and my family in the past year. Thank you and I love you all.

Most importantly to my daughter Evelyn. You are my rock and my everything. Each day I fought for you and I will continue to fight to be here with you. I love you with all of my heart and you are the reason I did so well with my treatments. You are truly my gift, my little angel from God. I thank Him every day for giving me such a wonderful and understanding little girl. I am sorry that I got sick, but I promise to be here for you and to love you with every fiber of my being. Thank you baby girl.