Random Acts of Kindness

I received the email below from a woman that I met only once this past Thanksgiving. I am touched by her story, her openness and her kindness. Truly inspiring.

Dear Neil, 

I want to tell you what I did yesterday.  I woke up, ate breakfast, got my kids ready for school and out the door.  It was hectic, there was much yelling and cajoling.  After drop-offs, I went for a long run in the woods.  This is an activity I discovered that I love about six months ago.  I met a friend for lunch after and we chatted for too long so I had to hustle to pick up the kids, get home, make dinner, put everyone to bed, and finally collapse into bed myself.  

The importance of that day lies in the absolute mundaneness of it.  When I was first diagnosed with breast cancerfive years ago next month, my first thought was I don't want to die.  My next thought was, if I live, what will my life be like?  Will I ever just have an ordinary day untainted by cancer ever again?  I am happy to tell you the answer is yes.  I can honestly say that cancer is not a dominant topic or thought.  It does not rule everything.  

Did I mention that I had a double mastectomy with delayed reconstruction?  That means we are talking at least five surgeries.  One of the surgeries left me with no feeling in the back of my upper right arm.  I also had chemo and because of my risk for ovarian cancer I had some surgery in 2012 and will need additional surgery in the future.  My point to this is that the cancer wasn't simple by any means and yet, yesterday was so boring and normal.  Despite my obvious physical deformities after the cancer it simply doesn't come up.  My body is still very much mine and I have become quite comfortable in it even with all the design changes it has undergone.  

One more thing, two years after I was diagnosed with breast, my two year old daughter was diagnosed with brain cancer. Yeah, we make tumors.  She had surgery, chemo, bone marrow transplants....the full monty.  Yesterday, I spent more time worrying about whether she will ever learn to wipe her ass after she poops (seriously, I know) then if she will die of cancer.  

Cancer is scary, no doubt.  Cancer is hard, no doubt.  I don't wish it on anyone, but, when it comes, know it isn't everything.  Tincture of time is powerful medicine.  The love and support of friends, families, and frankly total strangers is incredibly powerful in healing.  

I wish you a lifetime of normal days.  You are not alone.  We are with you.  

Love,

LP

Cry

Today I have a pre-op appointment with my doctor to go over all the details of the surgery. Paul is coming with me so we can both hear all the details together. We left the house this morning with Zachary and I made sure he had everything he needed for his day -- snacks, homework, ironed clothes, breakfast and out the door we all went.

As we were driving to drop Zach off at school, I realized that I forgot to bring what I needed for the doctor. I wrote a list of questions for the doctor, paperwork for home to fill out and my insurance card -  all forgotten at home. I have always been somewhat forgetful with certain things, but recently it has been taken to a new level. My mind is in another place.

Paul and I arrived at the doctors office and my stomach was in knots. We were going to talk about all the details of my condition and the surgery. A face-to-face conversation with the doctor. Paul and I were a bit early so we sat at a coffee shop while I tried to remember all my questions for the doctor:

What are the risks?
What is the recovery time?
How large is the tumor?
How are they taking it out?
What are my diet restrictions prior and after surgery?
What are the possible outcomes?

The doctor went into much detail about how the tumor came to be and how it will be removed. So much detail that I could see Paul squirming in his chair out of the corner of my eye. It reminded me of the story he told me when Carrie was giving birth to Zach and Paul needed juice and cookies so he would not pass out.

My doctor was blunt and straight to the point. He is taking this tumor out because he things it's cancerous. He has been a doctor for 42 years and has seen many things, I trust his opinions and decisions. I did not move a muscle as he told me about the surgery and what the outcome will most likely be. I started at him without blinking, taking it all in - breathing in and out.

After the conversation, getting blood drawn and getting prescriptions, Paul and I walked through the rain and just sat in the car. It was all a lot to take in. We sat there and Paul asked what I was feeling. My first thoughts....I am not ready to die. There is so much I want to do..so much. I want to see Zachary grow into a young man, graduate from school, get married, have children. I want to see more of the world. I want to grow old with Paul. I don't want to die.

For the first time since I heard the news, I cried. I just sat there in the car with the rain coming down around me and Paul holding my hand. I cried and it felt good. I asked Paul how he was feeling. He didn't want to tell me, but he said "he felt bad for me." We both cried and hugged and I told him that the past 10 years of my life with him have been the best I could have ever asked for. I have an amazing life and I don't want it to end.

Learning to Relax

Paul and I had a trip to Vegas planned for months now and it happened to fall on the weekend after getting the news. Originally, I wanted to cancel the trip - but after talking with Paul, friends and coworkers, it made sense for me to get away for the weekend and just relax. Relaxing is something I am not good at...

I am always on the go, always have been, trying to accomplish as much as I can in a day. My day usually consists of getting up early and making sure everyone has what they need when they leave the house, getting to work around 8am and making sure I have everything planned for my day and that I am prepared for all the meetings I face on a daily basis. After work, depending on the day, I either go home and cook/clean, then try to fit in some other activity - stained glass project, painting a room, building a website, planting in the garden...I just go non-stop until I collapse from exhaustion.

Over the weekend in Vegas, I did just chill. Getting a nice spa treatment and truly relaxing an pampering myself (thank you work!), eating what I wanted not worrying about gaining weight and also gambling a little bit. Paul and I had a great time together and I did escape reality for a short time. Until it was ready to go home and the reality of the week was upon me.

When I got home today, I started cleaning the house and doing anything I could do to keep busy. After several household chores, I decided to go shopping. I stopped to get groceries, pet supplies and flowers to plant. Running around like a nut from place to place trying to get as much accomplished as I could in a day. Same routine, but driving home I realized this race against time has to stop...I have to slow down and relax. I need to stop trying to make up for lost time and stop pushing myself and my body to the limit each day.

Living in a Snow Globe

I have always been in tune with my body - knowing every mole, every freckle, every curve and shape that makes up who I am. So when I noticed a lump in my butt area regions back in late November of 2013, I was alarmed at what it could be. I decided "why bother with it over the holidays" and I made an appointment to see my primary care doctor in January.

The holidays came and went, but the lump remained. I went to go see my doctor in January and he gave me a full physical including a prostate exam. He examined the lump further and decided that he could not diagnose what it was. He referred me to a specialist, but the specialist was not available until March.

A month after my physical, in late February, I turned 40 years old. I had accomplished everything I had set out to do in my 30's and then some - grow and succeed at my job, buy a home, travel, have great friends, get married, get back into my stained glass. The 30s truly were an amazing ten years. I spent my 40th birthday with three of my favorite people in the world - no big party, no fancy trips, no big celebrations - just a quiet birthday with people I love.

March finally arrived and I kind of forgot about the lump. I was keeping busy with work and also getting ready to officially launch my stained glass business - a little something to do on the side. When I went to go see the specialist, I expected him to tell me it was nothing and that I would continue on with life. If you have never had a rectal exam, let me tell ya - it's not fun. I had two guys staring at my asshole for an hour, poking and prodding around. Get your mind out of the gutter! It was not that kind of poking and prodding. The doctor did a biopsy and told me that the lump could be one of two things: 1. an infection 2. a tumor.

All I heard was the word "tumor" and my body went numb. He proceeded to tell me that he should know in a few days the results of the biopsy. I left his office feeling a bit jarred at the possibilities of this lump being a tumor. In the back of my mind, I always knew that I had to be aware of cancer. My grandfather (my father's father) died at the age of 60 of colon cancer and my father has had polyps on his colon removed at the age of 50. I didn't think I would face the possibility of cancer at age 40....but cancer does not age discriminate.

A few days after my biopsy, the doctor called me back to tell me the lump is a tumor and that I would need to have it surgically removed as soon as possible. He explained that they could not determine whether the tumor is cancerous or not until they remove it and dissect it. Surgery? Cancer? He continued to speak through the phone explaining everything in detail, but I didn't hear much more. I could only hear my heart beating faster and my breathing increase rapidly. Surgery would be a next week...

I was at work when I heard the news. I was numb, filled with emotion, confusion, questions and too many thoughts. Thankfully, I have one of the best bosses and coworkers I could every ask for. I talked through my situation with my boss and a few fellow coworkers. Given the demands of my job, I could not see myself truly being "there" for everything I needed to do. We decided it was best I take the time off until after the surgery and the prognosis.

As I was leaving work today, it felt like my life was turned upside down, all shook up. like a snow globe. Someone was just shaking and shaking and shaking...