Thursday, May 28, 2009

Finished! Finito!

Yesterday, May 27th 2009 was the last day of Taxol, meaning the last day of CHEMO! Not only am I done with my second biggest battle of my life, but my hair is coming back. I have little fuzzies (kinda like a baby) on my head, that now seem to be a bit light, but will surely turn to dark hair. I can even see the outline of my hair! Can you see it?



When we got home from a long day, we arrived at the house and saw a huge sign that JB made for me (see below). Then walked inside to find the most beautiful flowers from my one and only: "Nathan."

SO excited! It's alll over!

32 Eggs!

Looking back on what’s happened since January, I always get tears in my eyes. So I typically try not to really dig deep into what happened. But sometimes I can’t help it and think about what I’ve done and how thankful I am for taking the bull by the horns, and just diving right in to the scariest time in my life.

Some don’t know this, but I have 32 half children. They live on Madison Avenue in New York City. In a freezer.

When I was diagnosed, my doctor said I would have to go through chemotherapy and radiation and it would be in my best interest if I had my eggs frozen in case the treatments affected my reproductive organs. So, I went through the grueling process of getting shots, blood work, ultrasounds, and finally egg removal. The things is…do you know how many eggs a woman produces in one month? One. Do you know how many I produced (with the help of Dr. Mukherjee at RMA)? 32! 32 viable eggs! Do you know what that did to my belly?

It made me look pregnant! Ick. It was horrible. The experience kinda sucked, but it was so worth it. And that’s the story of my 32 half children.

I see the light at the end of this crazy tunnel

written on May 18, 2009

Hmmmm.. so, I’m trying to catch you up on what’s been happening in my life right? Well, so much. Justin, one of my buds from high school, keeps teasing me that I have no time for him anymore. That all my weekends are busy. It’s true!

I feel bad in a way, because I have the best family and friends. And those that are trying to make plans with me can’t. Because I seriously have things planned every weekend (when I don’t have chemo).

You know it’s funny. Because I go to a support group at Sloan Kettering and there are many wonderful, strong women there. But when they talk about their experience, it seems like it was such a life struggle. Like a dark cloud that lived over them for all that time. And yes, I can agree with that. But I truly feel as though because of the love and support of those so close to me (specifically Mommy, Dana, Nate, JB, my roomies from college, Justin, Becka, Gemma, Michele and Chris, and my roommate Amy), I have truly been able to see past this huge layer of cancer that’s been living in front of my face since January.

I see the light at the end of the tunnel. I see my short-do hairstyles in August (hope to look like Natalie Portman with her little do). I see myself getting married. I see myself having children. I see my life ahead. And I’m just so excited to get it started!

Hair? Where?

written on May 15, 2009

Looked in the mirror today and noticed something fantastic.
Peach Fuzz!

My head is actually glistening, yet covered in a soft layer of blonde, cotton-like fuzz.

My hair is coming back baby!

Boat Cruise with my favorite girls


written on May 9, 2009

My roommate from college, Allison, is getting married to her long-time boyfriend Rick. Back in February, all of my roommates (Colleen, Meaghan, Katie, and myself) got an email from Rick stating he’d like to host a surprise boat cruise for all the girls in the wedding.

Back in February, this event seemed like a long-lost date plopped on the calendar. Now, it’s past. And it was SOOO fun. The funny thing is, it’s these events that have been able to make my chemo treatments bearable. With each chemo week, I always planned something at the end to look forward to. And this boat cruise was certainly something I couldn’t wait for!

So, the weekend came (Nate came with) and I put on my best “boating” outfit. Blonde wig, pearls, big hat – the girls kept calling me Kentucky Derby girl.

We had the best time! And looking back, I realize that making all these plans every weekend when I did not have chemo, is what made this process go so fast. That’s the trick – keep yourself busy!!! (And find a really hot, sweet guy to waste time with – I swear, he cures cancer!)


Lessons Learned

I was doing some thinking and wanted to share some of my lessons learned through this crazy and surreal experience. I really lived by these lessons and continue to do so now.

My lessons on how I've been learning how to deal with the Big C:

1. On weekends when you don’t have chemo, schedule something to do.
Schedule a lunch with a friend, dinner with your mom, anything. And when the time comes, if you don’t feel up to it, don’t go. But if you keep something on your calendar that you “need to get through the week” to do, you’ll do it. And it passes the time! And gets you excited!


2. Buy colorful wigs, earrings, scarves.
Try to either look like your old self, or try new things. I've had brown hair my whole life and have actually never dyed or highlighted my naturally brown/auburn hair. One of the first wigs I bought was blonde! I've worn it to parties, on a boat cruise and even to work!

3. Keep the negative information to a minimum. Don’t watch or read anything that has to do with cancer (unless it’s a self-help book/movie or given to you by your doctor).
Cancer is living right in front of your face day in and day out. Why over-read about everything? So many of the side effects and symptoms you read about you won't even experience. So why freak yourself out?

4. Don’t wear pajamas all the time. Get dressed.
Sometimes the more comfy you are, the more depressed you get. You feel sick! When I'm feeling like a human, I put makeup on and wear heels every chance I get. It just makes me feel like me!

5. Surround yourself with positive people.
Sometimes this is not always easy. Because if you work with people that are typically negative Nancy's or have a family that's not always so rosey, do what you can to watch chick-flicks that make you happy, get involved with people who ARE positive and are doing positive things. Can you join a knitting club? Take a painting class? Just do something that makes you feel good! Lucky for me, my family has been amazing.

6. Go to a support group. You need to talk about it.
Not all support groups are for you, but find one that is. I am involved in a support group at Sloan Kettering Hospital and personally see the good and the bad to it. There are some positive people there and some negative. For me, it's great to hear the positive outlooks and it's great to hear from women that are already 10 steps ahead of me. On the other hand, it's great to hear the negative things and feelings to justify why I feel a certain way. Or selfishly, to make myself feel better knowing that I don't feel like them.

7. Know this is only temporary. And keep reminding yourself about that.
Everytime I look in the mirror, or cry to my boyfriend in frustration that I have to go through this, his words always are: "Kar, this is only temporary." And it's true. The hair will grow back, the chemo won't be as often and your breasts won't be like your old ones, but they'll be better than they are right now. All of it is only temporary.

8. Have a glass of wine or some beer when you feel like it.
Sometimes it just helps AND makes you feel human again. You deserve it! I wouldn't suggest doing this right before or right after chemotherapy -- be sure to ask your doctor what's best.

9. Don’t forget who you are.
Having cancer does not make you a “cancer patient.” It still makes you you. It just makes you stronger, smarter and a survivor! Be proud of yourself for being able to get through this tough time. It's a struggle, it's hard, but you can do it!

10. Celebrate every small success.
Anything that’s positive at this time, is great! And celebrate it! Whether you have just finished you 4th chemo, and you know you're halfway done, or you saw your first fuzzy on your head - celebrate it. Just because you may have a much longer way to go, don't forget how far you've come.

11. Come up with a song, or two, or three.
Whenever I start to get down about what's happening, I think of the song my mom and I heard while watching The Devil Wears Prada one chemo weekend. The song is originally by Seal, called "Crazy" but was been re-done by Alanis Moorisette. The words are: "But we're never gonna survive...unless...we get a little crazy!" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8DhqEJlhMU

When this song came on, my mom and I played it over and over and over and hugged and danced and thought it was soooo true! So anytime I get down and need a quick pick-me-up, I play this song on my ipod and jump and cry and realize that I have to get crazy to beat this!

Another story, was when I went for my petscan to check and see if I had cancer anywhere else in my body, they put you in this crazy apparatus and put earphones on you and play music. The first song that came on was "Keeping the Faith" by Billy Joel. So of course, it was that song that got me through a VERY scary examination.

And lastly, yesterday, I was taking a shower and put on my shower radio. The song by Natasha Bedingfield came on and I started singing and balling in the shower. It was the PERFECT song to hear before my LAST chemo treatment! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lFXy5bIiSA

12. Think of Samantha Jones.
For all you Sex and the City watchers out there, think of her. I know she never really had cancer, she's a character. But even when Samantha did her speech at the cancer benefit, she looked fabulous - but had a hot flash and ripped off her wig. I just think of all the times she looked hot and fabulous and kept her composure and was still herself. Hey, she even got a really hot boyfriend who shaved his head with her! Hmmm...sounds familiar! Thanks Nate the Great. xoxox
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKB5RcpwCac

13. How are you? You're FINE.
People ask you all the time how you are feeling and you typically say "ok" or "hanging in there." Right? Well, what should you tell them? That you are struggling, tired, fighting for your life? No one wants to hear that.

So, I was at my support group a couple weeks ago and we discussed what you should say to people. They said say "FINE." It stands for Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Exhausted. Well, that pretty much captures it. :)

14. Bring your own blanket, pillow and socks to chemo.
Hey, if you're going to be there for 3+ hours, you might as well be comfortable!

15. Only think in the present. Don't overwhelm yourself.
If you try to think too far away (Ok, now chemo's over, but I have surgery, radiation, then herceptin for 1 year, then tamoxifen for 5 years, then...then..then..), you will get overwhelmed. Just get through each day and look forward to the exciting things like being in your best friends' wedding, or visiting your boyfriends new nephew Kevin!

Well, I hope these lessons give you an insight as to how I've been able to keep my head up during this sad, frustrating and crazy time in my life. And if they help anyone in anyway, this blog is all the worth it!

Monday, May 11, 2009

My new room at Sloan Kettering

Wednesday, January 14, 2009.
Bilateral (Double) Mastectomy.
12 Lymph Nodes removed on the left side.
5 Lymph Nodes removed on the right side.

My new bedroom for the next couple of days was a busy one. There were people in and out, my mom sleeping on a chair, and drains and plugs all hooked into my arms and breasts. But the most uncomfortable of all, the nurse. She was a blonde nightmare. The poor girl next to me (she had some kind of stomach cancer) was puking every 5 minutes. And the nurse would come in and yell to her, "How ya doing honey?" How do you think she was doing? The poor thing couldn't keep down a glass of water! Ugh. Everytime she came in, my mom said the corners of my mouth would go down. I became tense and disturbed. She was so loud, she didn't know my name and was simply impatient and harsh.


But I can't keep ranting on this nurse, or I might have a meltdown right here.

Anyhow...so staying in the hospital was certainly an experience. I had never stayed overnight before and am hoping I'll never have to again. The hospital itself is amazing! Doctors, amazing! Treatment, amazing! (Nurse, not so great). But again, Sloan Kettering, amazing!

Plus, my friends and family were always there. Mommy and Dana slept over alternating nights. I had visitors, flowers, and more visitors. My phone was ringing off the hook so much, that on the last day, we actually asked no one to come because I couldn't stay asleep -- I didn't want to miss anything!

Once I was feeling up to it, we took some rounds around the floor and met some other people who had surgery that week. Everyone just kept saying, "but you're so young. Oh my gosh. You're so young! How old are you?" Ugh; I know!!! We came across this woman who asked if I wanted to join the "Look Good, Feel Good" meeting later in the afternoon. At first, I was hesitant to go. She was a beautiful, older, Park Avenue-looking lady who seemed a bit snobby on the outside. She was the one to teach all of the women who underwent breast cancer surgery (lumpectomy/mastectomy) how to apply makeup. I was thinking, "Ugh. All I need is this be-otch telling me how to apply foundation on my skin, when I just had the most horrific thing happen to me."

Again, I hesitated. But thought I might as well learn something. After 2 minutes, I was so happy I went. I met wonderful, strong, women who were going through what I went through. Who were older than me, but just as scared. The Park Avenue lady began speaking and she suddenly became an angel to me.

She spoke of her experience with cancer and how she was a dancer on Broadway and continued to dance throughout her whole treatment. She said, "Girls, you put some makeup on and a wig and you get out there and live!"

And that's exactly what I've been doing.

Blonde, black, short, long, layered, bob, you name it, I wear it. I've never had so many compliments on my hair in my life!

Yeah, well, I wore lipstick to my mastectomy too.

Ever hear of that book and movie called "Why I wore red lipstick to my mastectomy."? I've never read it and actually never even heard of it until after my mastectomy. But I too, wore lipstick to mine; except I think it was more of a lighter pink. I was wearing jeans, a pink sweater and silver, slip-on Converse sneakers.

I remember waking up the morning of my surgery and thinking, "Huh, so my body is never going to look like this ever again. Weird." And then my eyes filled with tears, I got freaked out and pushed it right out of my mind. I just kept thinking this surgery is something I HAVE to do, and it will cure me; and afterwards, the cancer will be officially and technically removed.

I felt like a robot. I was putting on makeup, watching the early morning news, and even curled my hair. To go to my mastectomy!

We arrived and it all just felt like a simple robotic motion. Ok, so change into this gown. Done. Wait in the waiting room until we call you (but make sure you wear these little booties on your feet and shower cap). Done. The looks on my mom's face, Dana's face, and The Great's face, were scary. They were all white in the face and nervous. I was the only one smiling, with pink lipstick on my lips of course.

Next thing I knew, I walked into the operating room. THAT was the weirdest part. Shouldn't they have wheeled me in? Or carried me, or something? You don't just WALK into surgery? For a double mastectomy!?!? Do you? Part of me thought it would look a little like the Nip/Tuck OR; but unfortunately neither the doctors nor the room lived up to my expectations.

However, the nurse held my hand the whole time they were getting me ready and asked all about my favorite alcoholic drink (dirty martini with extra olives, I answered). I couldn't understand why until I felt the anesthesia kick in and she said, "Feeling drunk?" And the next thing I knew, I woke up in the recovery room asking for my mommy.