A Year Ago today - the first time I found out I was cancer free

A year ago today (on Friday the 15th), I found out I was cancer free...then I rolled over and went back to sleep.  Sounds pretty anti-climatic but there was a reason for it.  That morning, I had an CT scan with contrast, which means drinking that terrible tasting drink and then getting injected with dye to light everything up.  The early morning appointment, the waiting and the stress of it all left me feeling exhausted.  I was glad I'd taken the day off from work. I didn't want to get my hopes up or stress about it, so when we got home Mike and I turned on Netflix and hit the couch.

Due to the wonders of technology, the CT was emailed to the oncologist's office and my awesome NP Lisa checked it out right away.  In the middle of my snooze, I got a text from her - "CTs just came across my desk.  You are a clean machine."  I was thrilled but not quite ready to believe it.  I had a follow up appointment for Wednesday the 20th and I wanted to wait until then to really look at things and move forward.

So I rolled over and went back to sleep, content that all the difficult times had paid off and that there was good news and health on the horizon!

A Year Ago Today - Impossible to Believe

Its been a year since my last chemo session.  The anniversary would have been sometime last week...the 22nd or 23rd. I think its a pretty good thing that I can't remember the exact date.  It seems so long ago and just yesterday all at the same time.  It's very true that "it always seems impossible until its done" but in this case, it feels impossible that it actually is done.

My fourth and last chemo was a surreal event.  At this point, it was old hat.  Blood test a week before, a weigh in when I get there, consultation with Lisa the NP and Heidi my oncologist, and then into the chair.  After hoping the needle went into the port correctly and getting all settled, the saline and benadryl dripping from the first bag making me feel warm and dizzy and I quickly fall to sleep. My husband and my mother take turns sitting next to me, talking, dozing, trying to read.  Women come in and out, some with short chemo sessions, some with longer ones.  I looked around at all of them, taking them in, looking at who they are and what they were going through, wondering what their stories were.  I couldn't believe that I'd come to this day, where the journey "ends" or at least the treatment does.

A couple of hours passed, the bags dripped out, the tubes were taken out, a bandage placed on port and the words "Congratulations you're done."  I wanted to celebrate but it felt so wrong. Being around so many women who were so sick, some will be on chemo for the rest of their lives, some will not live much longer, it felt rude to celebrate, to be the one who leaves "cured."
It also felt strange to be free and out of treatment.  Chemo is not fun and not something to look forward to, but it at least felt like something was happening.  I wanted to attack the cancer, kill it and keep it away.  How do I know it is staying away if I'm not at the office every month, getting tests, getting treatments? What does a life that doesn't revolve around doctors' offices and strategy sessions look like?  Is keeping cancer away something I can do on my own? What happens next?

In the last year I've tried to focus on health, family and happiness.  I do things that make me happy.  I sleep when I want to. I run and exercise and try to eat healthy. I focus more on family and friends and less on work.  I am learning more about cancer and advocacy.  People have opened up to me about their fears and medical issues and I've referred more women than I would have believed to my doctor.  I've celebrated when they find out its not cancer and I've felt their heartbreak when they've found out it is.

I've gone through a journey that seemed impossible until it was over.  Now I know its never over, that it sits on the minds and hearts of the people I love, advises my decisions in work and play, and brings people into my life that I never imagined.  I don't know exactly what the next days or years will bring.  I hoping and working toward health, happiness and enjoying the journey.

A Year Ago Today/The Return to Health: Go Pink!

Today's post is a combination "A Year Ago Today" and "The Return to Health."  As I've blogged about before, TRX was a big part of my return to fitness after cancer.  I was able to Zumba through some of my treatments, but when I was ready to get strong again, TRX and Hosner Fitness was right there to help.

A year ago today, was the First Annual GO PINK for Breast Cancer at Hosner Fitness.  Usually closed on Sunday, Hosner Fitness opened for a Sunday in October to raise money for Cancer Services Program of Fulton and Montgomery County. Suzanne Hagadorn and her crew provided screenings free of charge for breast, cervical and colorectal and provide education on cancer prevention and early detection.   Last year, I was recovering from surgery #2, but came over to watch one of the classes.  It was a time that I was still very unsure of what was going on and pretty scared.  Seeing the community come out and support one another like that was touching and hopeful.


This year, I am so incredibly blessed to be healthy enough to participate.  I put on my pink shirt and "cancer sucks" headband and joined in the fun at 8 am.  They do 4,  30 minutes classes at ten dollars each.  This year over 50 people signed up for classes.

The place was all decorated in Pink, and the lights were off to give it more of a party atmosphere with DJ Mike Garrasi providing the music and lights.

There were raffles, t-shirts, snacks, and bracelets for sale will all proceeds going to the cause.

They filled the walls with 160 ribbons celebrating survivors and supporters.

And since the classes were sold out, Rob agreed to wear this while instructing......

I know there is a lot of pink this month and the seriousness of cancer can get lost in the "save the ta-tas," that horrendous motor-boating scheme and "I'm a Boob Man" mentality of Breast Cancer awareness month.  We forget that its actually about saving women (and men), not their body parts.   This event is so great and so special because not only is the community coming together to raise money for a good cause but they come together for a celebration.  They are celebrating health and strength.  They are empowering women to take control of their health, to lead a health lifestyle that helps prevent cancer or, like me and the many other survivors that work out there, return to a healthy, vibrant lifestyle after cancer.

I can't wait to hear how much money was raised or to see the professional pictures taken by Katie Ramirez. When I'm do I will be sure to share.  For now, I'll leave you with the sign each group took their picture with, made by one of our strong survivors, Karen Agresta.  

A Year Ago Today: Lisa Called

During my cancer journey,  I was hesitant to let too many people know before I had all of the facts.  Since I let everyone know I was planning on Joining the Survivors Club, there have been many questions.  In this "A Year Ago Today" Series, I will attempt to answer those questions and also work out what the hell happened this last year in my own head, heart and soul.  Thanks for reading and if you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Hopefully, everyone who is sick has some medical professional that they can trust implicitly.  I was luckier than most because this person was also part of the family. Just about a year before, Lisa had been at my wedding, little did she or I know that less than a year later, my file would come across her desk.  As soon as she got it, she called me.  I was at work that day and didn't have her number in my phone.  Once I heard the words, "Kelly, this is Lisa, why didn't you call me?" I rushed into our Legislative Chambers, shut the door, and the flood gates opened.  I always knew Lisa worked with women with cancer, but before all of this happened, women's cancer to me was only Breast Cancer.  Since I didn't have breast cancer, I didn't call her.  Turns out, she doesn't work with breast cancer patients but with gynecological cancer patients. She quickly broke everything down for me.  She had read the file the OB-GYN sent over.  She thought everything looked good, they would have have to take out some lymph-nodes in order to prevent any type of spreading but that could be done laparoscopically.  I told her that I didn't realize that she worked in the practice that I was referred to or that I would have.  She told me she was taking over, that she had a new young doctor she thought would be a good match for me and that we would change my appointment to a day they were both in the Albany office.  I can't remember much else of what we said, I just agreed to what she wanted to do and trusted that she had a plan.  

I called my mother immediately when I got off the phone.  We both couldn't believe that we hadn't thought of Lisa.  Since she knew Lisa as well as I did, she totally understood why I would be so relieved and put so much trust in Lisa.  We both felt amazing about this. Lisa calling eased a lot of the fears I was hiding from others and hearing her voice and her words of encouragement gave me a huge amount of hope and confidence in the next step of treatment.

A year ago today, Lisa called and said she was taking over and I turned my trust over to her completely.  That is a decision I have never regretted.  

A Year Ago Today: I Found Out I Had Cancer (Part 2)

During my cancer journey,  I was hesitant to let too many people know before I had all of the facts.  Since I let everyone know I was planning on Joining the Survivors Club, there have been many questions.  In this "A Year Ago Today" Series, I will attempt to answer those questions and also work out what the hell happened this last year in my own head, heart and soul.  Thanks for reading and if you have any questions, feel free to ask.

A few days ago, I revealed and reflected on  how I was feeling a year ago when I first found out I had cancer.  In order to keep the reading amount somewhat manageable, I decided to break it up into two parts.  I left off at the whole "I found out I had cancer, got ice cream and went back to work" part.

My head was swimming and I was feeling a bit numb.  Mike drove us over to TCBY and I tried to focus on what I would get there.  I'd had been trying to eat better (I'm always trying to eat better, really) and so I pictured some kind of vanilla ice cream with lots of fruit.  Once we sat outside to dig into our ice cream, Mike commented, "After that news, I'm not surprised to see all that chocolate."  Vanilla...fruit...I just found out I had cancer...who was I kidding.

As we ate our ice cream, we finally found ourselves able to form coherent sentences.  We went over what the doctor had said - found it early, got it all out, stage 1a, no chemo, just a follow up with an oncologist.  We could handle that.   We would do everything he told us to do, get the CAT scan, wait until Friday for the report, go see the oncologist.  Figure it all out before telling the world.  After all, if a person had cancer and didn't know it, does it even count?  If a person had cancer and didn't need chemo, are they even a survivor?  If a tree falls in the forest....you get the picture.

Mike and I have always seen ourselves as a team.  We try to handle everything with the best attitude that we can, move through the bad and focus on the good.  That is what we decided to do that day.  Move through the bad and focus on the good.  From what the doctor said, the bad was behind us.  When we finished our ice cream and our conversation, I decided to go back to work.  I could use the distraction, I would have to ask for some time off later in the week for the CAT scan and the people I work with are my friends.

I am not sure if going back to work was the right decision.  I felt like if I didn't go back, everyone would worry.  However, when I did go back, I think I shocked them.  I walked into my boss' office and one of my co-workers was sitting there with him.  Seeing me, they figured it had gone well and that it was safe to ask how it went.  I hadn't really thought about how I would answer that question.  I panicked a bit and then did the simplest thing there was to do, I told them the truth. I focused a lot on the "I will be fine part" reassuring them as much as I was reassuring myself.  I would need a few days off for some follow up appointments but all in all, it wouldn't take up too much time.  Mike and I would just do what they told us to do and then move forward, everything would be fine.  They both responded that they were sorry to hear that and they knew I would be just fine (really what else do you say?).  Then I got up and went back to my desk, getting a whole lot accomplished with my new found nervous energy.

To this day, I wonder what it was like to be on the other side of that conversation.  I did my best to coat it as positively as I could, but they must of wondered what I was thinking, why I was back there, if I really would be okay.  The conversation had to happen at some point, so I am hoping that getting it over with right away, as opposed to going home or lying, was a good solution.

 Finding out I had cancer was a complicated situation.  So I kept it simple whenever possible: keep moving forward, keep going for ice cream (we had a lot of fro-yo during this experience!) and when possible do whats normal.

A Year Ago Today: I Found Out I Had Cancer (Part 1)

During my cancer journey,  I was hesitant to let too many people know before I had all of the facts.  Since I let everyone know I was planning on Joining the Survivors Club, there have been many questions.  In this "A Year Ago Today" Series, I will attempt to answer those questions and also work out what the hell happened this last year in my own head, heart and soul.  Thanks for reading and if you have any questions, feel free to ask.

The short story: A year ago today I found out I had cancer, got some ice cream, and then went back to work.

The long story:

A year ago today, I went in for my follow up appointment to Surgery #1.  As I wrote about last time, my doctor typically did follow ups 4 weeks post-op.  Since he scheduled this one for 2 weeks, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what I was going to hear.  I went to work that morning, Mike picked me up at the office and we drove to my 11:30 appointment in Schenectady.

When I got there, I was taken straight back to the doctor's personal office.  No exam room to sit waiting in, just a desk and a few chairs.  The doctor pulled his chair around to the front of the desk.  He spoke quietly and slowly, oh so very slowly.  He summarized our short history together, from diagnosis to surgery going step by step through the whole thing.  As he slowly worked his way up to what he actually wanted to say my heart was racing and my bones ached with nerves. In my head I was screaming, "Say it, just say it.  I know you're going to say it, just get it over with." I knew what was coming, how could I not? It was just taking so damn long.

The overly kind doctor took my hand, he looked me in the eyes, he said something like the bad news is you have cancer, the good news is, we caught it early.  He diagnosed it as stage 1a, that it was contained and that he got it all out.  He told me stories of his patients who had gone through the same things, how they were healthy, fertile and still alive 20 or more years later.  He assured me his tears were only a match to mine, that it wasn't that I had a terrible diagnosis, it was that he hated to see his patients cry.  He said, "You will be fine, you will do well. Very well."  Over and over.  "You will be fine. You will do well."

With legs that were not my own, I walked back out of the office and to the receptionist.  I handed her the paper with boxes checked and scientific terms scribbled out in the Doctor's terrible handwriting.  There were tests to schedule and appointments to be made.  She looked at the paper, she looked at me.  Her eyes reflected the sadness and fear that must have been in my own.  She filled out another paper for me to take to the scheduling nurse. She wrote that I would need a CT scan and a follow up appointment with an oncologist.  She filled that out and then wrote across the bottom, in all caps just like this:

And that was when shit started feeling real.  It was the first time I really saw and felt the words.  I took my paper back to the scheduling nurse and got the CT scheduled and was told my information would be passed on to the oncologist's office for them to set up an appointment.

We left the office, back outside into a beautiful sunny day, passing by people who weren't in the medical arts building to hear they had cancer.  I looked at them as I walked out, wondering what their news would be, what they were there for.  Was it just a routine visit?  Were they going to hear great news? Would they, too, hear bad news?  How was the world still moving and people still going on with their days?  What would my days start to look like?

Mike and I got back in the car and just sat there, staring straight ahead, wondering what to do.  There was so much to do and so little we could do all at the same time.  He wanted to me to tell him what I needed.  I wanted to fast forward through all of it, so that it was a day I was looking back on, not going through.  But I had to go through it, I had to feel it, I had to make a decision.  So I made the easiest decision I could.  I told him there was a new TCBY and I wanted to go have some ice cream.  Then, I did what was comfortable, routine and familiar.  I went back to work for the rest of the day.

A Year Ago Today: Surgery #1

During my cancer journey,  I was hesitant to let too many people know before I had all of the facts.  Since I let everyone know I was planning on Joining the Survivors Club, there have been many questions.  In this "A Year Ago Today" Series, I will attempt to answer those questions and also work out what the hell happened this last year in my own head, heart and soul.  Thanks for reading and if you have any questions, feel free to ask.

This post will be a little longer because I didn't start it in June, when I first started experiencing symptom.

A year ago today, I went in for surgery to remove a 10cm cyst from my left ovary.  I had been experiencing a lot of strange symptoms, most of all a frequency, pain, and urgency of urination that seemed like a UTI on steroids.  After a little urging (fighting, crying, and insisting) the midwife in my GYN practice agreed to an ultra sound.  After the cyst was found, I was referred to the doctor in the practice who assured me this was routine and necessary for fertility and overall health. He explained that cysts are a natural part of the ovulation cycle and than some do not burst when they release an egg or grow larger due to fluid build up or other abnormalities.  He assured me was too young to be concerned with cancer.  I'd also known  many people who had problems with cysts, whether it be getting them removed or having them burst.  I figured if it would help the whole fertility thing along and make me feel better, I was all for it. 

Read more here 

When it came time to have the surgery, I was extremely nervous.  It was honestly the first really big medical procedure I'd ever had.  There was the uncertainty of how I would feel after, what it would be like to be under anesthesia, what they would find. The doctor told me he would do his best to keep both ovaries in tact, but would have to take the left one out if it looked questionable.  I tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but I honestly wondered how I would feel about having a piece of me missing.

I had a laparoscopic surgery that was supposed to last about an hour. Check in went smoothly and it was no surprise that it took the nursing supervisor to come in and do the IV once my veins decided to hide.  I felt incredibly comforted by the anesthesiologist.  Once they start talking about the different drugs and what they will do to keep you asleep, everything started to feel real and I got very nervous.  She was confident, competent, and really distracted me by telling stories and keeping me calm.  My doctor introduced me to the doctor who would be assisting him and before I knew it, I was wheeled into surgery.

What was supposed to take an hour ended up taking much more (probably 3-5 hours).  I learned later that the doctor found abnormal looking cells during the surgery and called in a oncologist to consult with him.  They decided to freeze a sample and send it to the lab.  It was also decided to remove my left ovary as it was was just swallowed up by the tumor/cyst. My doctor kept my family informed through it all and when I woke up I was in a patient room as recovery was full.

Right after I woke up, I was too tired and drugged to care what happened in the surgery.  I remember waking up, talking to my family then quickly falling back to sleep.  I had never felt so tired.  The goal of the nurses was for me to be able to stand, walk, go to the bathroom unassisted and to return home that night.  I remember begging them to let me stay, I just wanted to sleep and sleep and sleep.  Walking to the bathroom was such a major production that I just could not imagine all of the steps of getting out of the hospital, into the car, drive 30 minutes, get into the house and into my bed.  It honestly felt like they were asking me to climb Everest.

With the help of my super nurse sister, my superhusband, and the hospital nurses assuring me I did not want to sleep there all night, I made it home around 8pm.  I believe I slept most of the night and spent the next few days recovering.  My surgery was on a Tuesday and I was back to work on Monday.

The doctor scheduled the follow up appointment for two weeks from the surgery.  Pre-surgery he told me it would be scheduled for four weeks post-op.  I had a nagging feeling that something was just not right, and this change in schedule reaffirmed that feeling.