Well, I'm getting used to the hair. I know there are bigger things in life, but when you've been bald for the better part of a year, it just becomes more important. I don't have much to say, Thank God! My next appointment is in April for genetic testing at Sloan Kettering in New York City. Should be fun.
I am just so thankful for every day. I am thankful for days when the word "cancer" doesn't even come to my mind. I remember during my treatments thinking, "will there ever be a day when it's not on my mind." Well, I think those days are coming. Yesterday, I had a great day just doing "Mommy" stuff - getting kids on the bus, picking them up from pre-school, doing laundry, making dinner and being so thankful that I can do it all.... I just had to get up from the computer and threaten one of my children, I love being a mommy!
I will enjoy each and every day without sickness. Those days when that is all you can think about are suffocating. I can now feel like I can breathe. I don't know what to do so it never comes back. I'm not sure there is anything anyone can do. Just try to live as healthy as possible, and enjoy every precious day. Enjoy every day, even the seemingly mundane. It can all turn on a dime.
When I hear the song by Tim McGraw called "Live Like You Were Dying", I just think, "That's not what I'd waste my time doing.. "I'd go sky diving, I'd go Rocky Mountain climbing, I'd go 2.7 seconds on a bull named 'Fu Man Chu'..." I'd just spend every minute with my family doing nothing, watching movies, hanging out, playing games, wrestling my 3 year old. Those days are precious. I love every moment (although I could use a little alone time occasionally, a massage would'nt hurt either - ha ha ha).
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Monday, February 13, 2006
Where's Amy?
Hello Everyone! Well, It is appoaching the one year mark since I was diagnosed. I am pretty emotional about it. I'm not sure if that's because of the Prednisone, or just normal. Last year at this time, John and I planned a night at the Waldorf in New York City. The morning of the day we left, I found "the lump" that would change my life. The whole weekend we were supposed to be having fun, I was scared, crying, not sure, hoping it was nothing. Then on Monday, the doctor's appointments started and haven't let up since. (I had two appointments last week!)
Last week I attended a support group meeting at the Support Connection for young survivors. We all have young children and are in varying stages of recovery. It was nice to talk to others in the same situation. I also found out that another mother at the playgroup where Alex goes to school was diagnosed December '04. She's to her one year mark now, only she is stage 4. She has spots on her liver. She also has a 4 year old and a 6 year old. You can add her to your prayers! She has not done any chemo since she is stage 4. I think now for her quality of life is important as well as stopping the spread. Makes my problems now sound so trivial.
I'm having a break-down because of my hair. Or maybe in spite of my hair. Or maybe I'm just breaking down. Everything is catching up with me. Last week I went in to the hair dresser to get a lift. I am feeling blah, and wanted to get some color to make me brighter and sunnier (and hide grey). Anyway, I ended up looking like a man. Now I'm experiencing the trauma of my hair falling out all over again. My hair, which has been blonde my whole life, is now brown and dull. He also asked if he could just "clean it up a little". I said "okay". He trimmed my hair, which was only about an inch long to begin with. I now have shorter, dull brown hair with sideburns. I am traumatized now. Alex looked at me and said, "Mommy, you look like a boy." Can't argue with a 3 year old. Sophia said, "Mommy, what did you do to your hair?" I just wanted to cry.
You just get to a point where you want to feel like yourself. I look in the mirror after gaining so much weight after taking the steriods, and not having any hair and now "man hair", and I wonder where Amy went. I have no time to myself, to do anything I once did. Kids and housework and activities and everything and everyone else comes first. Where did Amy go? When I find out, I'll keep you posted.
Last week I attended a support group meeting at the Support Connection for young survivors. We all have young children and are in varying stages of recovery. It was nice to talk to others in the same situation. I also found out that another mother at the playgroup where Alex goes to school was diagnosed December '04. She's to her one year mark now, only she is stage 4. She has spots on her liver. She also has a 4 year old and a 6 year old. You can add her to your prayers! She has not done any chemo since she is stage 4. I think now for her quality of life is important as well as stopping the spread. Makes my problems now sound so trivial.
I'm having a break-down because of my hair. Or maybe in spite of my hair. Or maybe I'm just breaking down. Everything is catching up with me. Last week I went in to the hair dresser to get a lift. I am feeling blah, and wanted to get some color to make me brighter and sunnier (and hide grey). Anyway, I ended up looking like a man. Now I'm experiencing the trauma of my hair falling out all over again. My hair, which has been blonde my whole life, is now brown and dull. He also asked if he could just "clean it up a little". I said "okay". He trimmed my hair, which was only about an inch long to begin with. I now have shorter, dull brown hair with sideburns. I am traumatized now. Alex looked at me and said, "Mommy, you look like a boy." Can't argue with a 3 year old. Sophia said, "Mommy, what did you do to your hair?" I just wanted to cry.
You just get to a point where you want to feel like yourself. I look in the mirror after gaining so much weight after taking the steriods, and not having any hair and now "man hair", and I wonder where Amy went. I have no time to myself, to do anything I once did. Kids and housework and activities and everything and everyone else comes first. Where did Amy go? When I find out, I'll keep you posted.
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