The Lie Moms Tell Ourselves, and Its Dangerous Impact

Our 2014 family portrait, taken 3 days after my breast cancer diagnosis

I took a life-altering course on empowerment a number of years ago that shifted the way I look at and live my life. One of the biggest lessons that I took with me from that course into my daily life is how I view the common, recurring complaints that I have.  The main take-away and lesson around complaints was that for every complaint we have, we are getting something out of it that we want more, on some level, than getting rid of the complaint. There is always a cost, and always (always!) an impact.  And usually, what we're getting out of it is something nasty and not too obvious. So every time I have a big, whiny complaint, I look to see what I'm getting out of it.

The Complaint
There's this great, big fat complaint many of us moms (including myself) have.  This complaint is called "I don't have time."  And not only is this a common complaint, it's also a lie.  Not only do we tell ourselves this lie, but we consistently reinforce it, with lots and lots of evidence, not only for ourselves, but for each other. This lie is so entrenched in how women tend to view motherhood that I would venture that 99.999999999% of women who tell this lie actually believe it to be an immutable truth.  Maybe some of you even got offended that I called it a lie. Because it's really that real to us.  The way we live our lives, and the way our brains work, is this vicious circle that causes us to have a million things to do and not enough time to do them, so clearly things have to get cut. And what gets cut?  Most likely a lot, but the first things to go (besides the cleanliness of our homes) are usually the things we want and need to do for ourselves.

Don't get me wrong - most moms, especially single moms, have a whole lot of things we are responsible for every day.  I'm not saying we don't have responsibilities, and I'm not saying those responsibilities aren't ridiculously important to us and the ones we love.  We do, and they are.  However, as a group, we tend to become rather victim-y, and martyr-y about it.  I know I did (and sometimes still do).  As if we have no say in the matter.  As if we are at the whims of everyone and everything else in the world, powerless.

I'm here today to call bullshit on that.  Because that lie, or my interpretation of that lie, almost killed me. Literally. So, using the tools I got from my course, when I look back on my life, I wonder what, for me, is this allegedly wonderful, beneficial thing I was getting out of keeping this complaint alive.

The Payoff
It took a real look, and a devastating life event, for me to learn what the payoff was.  Remember, I said above that it's usually something nasty and not too obvious.  What I learned about myself was that the payoff to my "I don't have time" complaint is that it makes me feel like I am absolutely necessary, and that the world, at least the world of the people I love, would not work without me.  Take me out of the equation and everything would fall apart.

The Cost
If you think about it, this belief can be really damaging. If I believe that I'm necessary, I clearly am super important, which is something that just about every human being wants to feel.  However, it's a huge and heavy burden to feel that the worlds of the people you love won't work without you.  Thus the whole martyr/victim role I would so often fall into.  Because when you're that important, clearly your wants and needs will have to fall by the wayside.  We love our families too much to have it any other way.

The Impact (and the story and point of this post)
Almost a year ago, I felt a lump in my breast.  It hurt.  I went immediately to a breast surgeon my mom had used in the past to have it checked out.  He gave me a breast exam, and told me he was not too concerned, because it had none of the markers of cancer.  However, he wrote me a prescription for a mammogram and told me to make sure I got one.  No immediate rush, but I should get one within the next month.

Well, that next month was the first month back at work (I'm a teacher), my son's first month of kindergarten, my husband starting his graduate classes 3 nights a week in addition to working, and all of the other hullabaloo inherent with September.  I was B-U-S-Y.  And I wasn't any less busy in October. Especially not November, with my son's and husband's birthdays and planning Thanksgiving, and certainly not December!

In January, I had an OB-GYN issue that I couldn't put off, and made myself an appointment.  While I was there I asked my doctor to check the lump.  Although he also didn't recognize any markers of cancer, he was concerned because of the size - it seems it felt rather large.  He told me to make an appointment for a mammogram IMMEDIATELY.  And I did.

For those of you who have been reading my blog, you know what came next.  Within a week I was diagnosed with Stage 3 of a very aggressive and fast moving breast cancer, possibly in the process of metastisizing and spreading throughout my body.  I spent the next 5 months in bed from ridiculously large and powerful doses of chemo.  A little over a month ago my breasts were removed.  Last week I had a follow up surgery.  In a few weeks I start radiation.  I will continue on antibody injections until February. Next summer I will have reconstruction on my breasts, with a few minor surgeries following.

The above is the impact.  I don't know what would have been the result if I had gone 5 months earlier for a mammogram, but it's pretty darn likely my course of treatment would have been much easier than what it was (and yes, the outcome also could have been worse in some scenarios as well -  I get that too). And, one of the craziest things about it is, I could probably get all of the sympathy in the world, all of the understanding, especially from my fellow mothers, about all of the reasons why I didn't go for my mammo when I was originally told to.  I could also get that same sympathy and understanding for what I have experienced within the past 6 months.  That is not what I'm asking for, and it's not the point of this post.

The Point of this Post
These stories we have, these lies we tell ourselves about how the lives of the people we love will stop working without us, are not true.  And rather than being a crushing realization that I'm not the uber-important key to ensuring the lives of those I love run smoothly, it has been one of the most freeing realizations I've experienced. Rather, I've really gotten, in my heart and soul, that what's uber-important is me.  Just me.

Because really, when I was in bed for 6 months, things got handled.  The world turned.  My kids ate, got to school, did their homework, the laundry got done, the house got cleaned.  Maybe not to my standards, but they still got done. They even had fun and enjoyed their lives, making memories both with and without me. Oh, and I got taken care of. Yeah - that's not something I had ever counted on needing to happen.

Yes, we had incredible amounts of help.  My husband stepped up in ways I had never dreamed he was capable (oooh, how demeaning of me even to say!).  On my (many) bad days, my kids were able to go down to sleep without me singing and reading to them.  They actually understood when mommy wasn't able to do things for and with them, and they weren't angry or bratty or tantrummy (well, most of the time...). They're two and five. I guess my protective little world view of them needing me to survive and thrive was a little demeaning as well.

This is not to say that their lives are not vastly improved with me, now that I'm finally getting back to myself. There is nothing, NOTHING, that can take the place of a child's mother.  Ever.  That is the knowledge that kept me going to the torture of chemo, it's the knowledge that made me determined to live, to not even entertain the thought of dying, throughout this entire ordeal.  There is NO WAY my children will grow up without me, so long as I have breath in me to fight to live.

However, what they need is me present and with them.  Not just the things I do for them.  And yes, sometimes there is overlap.  But I no longer carry the weight of a bullshit story that the world will stop without me, that the contributions I make are the things I do rather than the person I am. This is the freedom I have now that sometimes moves me to tears.

It's a freedom to do for myself.  My husband can more than handle taking care of the kids. For an afternoon if I have a doctor appointment (or a massage appointment!). For a night if I choose to go out. For a weekend if I choose to go away with friends.  Even for a week or two if I were to choose to vacation without them.  Even for a lifetime if I were no longer present.  And even though I will never choose the last one, there is a freedom in knowing that.  I get to live my life powerfully because of that. Those who I love won't wither and die without me.  There is no ball and chain attaching me.  So when I stay, it's because I choose to, freely and without reservation.  No victim, no martyr.

What I hope you take away from this
I hope it goes without saying, but what I hope you take away from this is the following:

1. Check your breasts, follow up immediately if you find anything, and get regular mammograms and listen to your doctors (DUH!!!!)
2. Give up that you have to do things in order to be necessary, to be enough for those you love.  You are enough.  You are so enough that it's overwhelming how enough you are.
3. Check your breasts, follow up immediately if you find anything, and get regular mammograms and listen to your doctors
4. Make time for yourself, your life, your friends, your own personal development as a person.
5. Check your breasts, follow up immediately if you find anything, and get regular mammograms and listen to your doctors.

Oh, and if you know me personally, don't ever tell me you don't have time for something.  We make time for the things we need to, and want to.  :-)

XOXO

Joining the Itty Bitty Titty Committee - Owning My Mastectomy

Hello my friends.  It's been a long time since I posted.  It's been almost 6 weeks since my mastectomy and I have gone through a lot of spaces since then.  The bottom line is I'm all good.  For those of you who are squeamish about medical stuff, there is nothing too descriptive below, I promise.

The Mastectomy
On June 24, I had a modified radical bilateral mastectomy. This means they removed all breast tissue from both breasts. The right side, where I had the cancer, had all breast tissue, including the nipple, removed, as well as a complete lymph node dissection (all of the lymph nodes under my arm that my surgeon could find were removed). My left side, where there was no cancer, had all breast tissue removed prophylactically (to prevent me from ever getting breast cancer in that breast).  I was able to keep the nipple intact.  There were two parts to the surgery - the breast surgeon who removed the breast tissue, and the plastic surgeon who inserted the expanders and drains (more on the expanders below) and sewed me back up.  All told the surgery took about 4 hours, and I was in recovery for about 3 hours before they moved me to my room.

I was in the hospital for 3 days, where I was on morphine and then Percocet. My time in the hospital is a blur, a drugged haze. I do remember, however, that my pain was very well managed.  There was discomfort, but never blinding pain. Once I got home, the next week was also a drugged haze. Again, more discomfort than pain. Within two weeks I was up and about.  After four weeks I was feeling pretty normal.  The big thing was being very easily exhausted.  Even now, I get tired much more easily than I used to be before this whole cancer adventure, but I have more and more energy every day.

Last Friday I went in for a second procedure.  My plastic surgeon was not happy with how the incisions were healing, and she opened them up, irrigated the inside, replaced 25% of the graft on the left breast, closed it up and attached a vacuum tube with a battery pack on the dressing for each breast to speed up healing.  After a week the dressings were removed and the incisions were healed better than they had been in the first 5 weeks after surgery.  I still have the stitches in to ensure complete healing. My surgeon guesses that because the surgery was done only 12 days after my last chemo, my body's healing abilities were slowed down significantly.  I'm all good now!

The Pathology
According to my breast surgeon, everything is going according to plan (to which my brain screams "Plan?!?!?! None of this is going according to plan!!!). In other words, if there is any cancer in my body, they can't see it.  And if there is any cancer they can't see, between the radiation and the antibody injections I'm getting through February, those cells will DIE DIE DIE.

So what did they find in the tissue they removed?

In the breast tissue, there were isolated cancer cells, with clear margins.  In cancer speak, that means that there was plenty of healthy tissue around those cancer cells, so there is little to no risk that it spread to surrounding tissue, like my chest muscles.

As for the lymph nodes, my surgeon removed 16 nodes. Of those, 5 had microscopic cancer cells. My oncologist reassured me that means IF the surgeon missed any lymph nodes (and he was pretty sure he got them all), and IF any of those lymph nodes have cancer cells,  the radiation I will soon be starting will handle those.

My (Long Awaited, 24-hour) Breakdown
A week after surgery, I had an appointment with my breast surgeon who told me the pathology.  I started crying from joy when they told me.  And then I didn't stop crying.  The whole way home, through lunch (in a restaurant, no less!), and into the night.  The next day, I had an appointment with my oncologist for the antibody injections. I was still crying. When I saw him, he gave me a hug and I started sobbing in his arms. I told him it wasn't about the mastectomy - I was fine with that. It's just that, for the first time since this entire thing started, I was convinced I was going to die. I thought my doctors were lying to me, and that I was going to die (which, incidentally, besides being ridiculous and highly immoral, is also illegal.  They could lose their licenses to practice medicine if they did that.). He put me into a private room where I kept crying. A few nurses came in to speak with me and check up on me - we've all gotten to know each other over the months, and they knew how out of character this was for me.

During my injections, my chest started contracting and I started having trouble breathing. I thought I was having a reaction to the injections.  I had my husband (who was with me for the first time at the chemo/injection center) call the nurse, who came in and stopped the injection immediately and started checking my vitals, which were fine.  I asked the nurse if I could be having a panic attack.  She said she thought that's what it was.  She asked if I wanted to see the social worker and to see if she could get the psychiatrist in.  I said what the hell - I'm no dummy, and I knew I was having an emotional breakdown.  She asked if I wanted an anti-anxiety drug.  Hell yes!

Long story short, I had a real, bonafide panic attack.  I had never had one before.  It was pretty crazy.  The psychiatrist didn't feel a need to prescribe anything other than the as-needed anti-anxiety pills I had sitting in my purse. I haven't had one since. And I believe my doctors now.

I have to give my psyche credit. I really chose the right time to lose it.  It was after the hardest part of my treatment (all of chemo AND my mastectomy) was complete. It was after my medical results matched what I wanted to hear. It was while I was in a hospital environment where I was comfortable and where all medical resources were readily available. It was the one day my husband was with me (he'd always had work previously), the man who is my rock and the person on whom I lean and rely to keep me calm and related to reality. It's because of all of these things, I'm sure, that my breakdown freakout only lasted 24 hours. There was nothing, in reality, to keep it going any longer. There was and is nothing unsure about my survival.  And for that I'm grateful.

The Boobies
So what's going on with the boobs now? What do I have? What do they look like? Feel like? How bad is the scarring?

What I have in place right now are called expanders.  They were inserted beneath my chest muscles and attached to the skin with a skin graft type thing.  They are temporary, only until I have reconstruction surgery, which will be next summer.  I have to wait until radiation has been over for at least 6 months. The purpose of the expanders are two-fold.  First, they are a form of fake breast - I look like I have breasts. They're significantly smaller than what I'm used to, but I'm not walking around feeling like a pre-pubescent boy. It helps the ego. Second, they keep the skin stretched taut, holding the space for when I have my reconstruction surgery. They feel like those little blue handball balls. It can be a little uncomfortable - almost like I am wearing a pliable plastic bra. They don't move. There is no bounce, no nothing. Which also means no need for a bra. Woo hoo! (Note - I feel naked without a bra. Kind of like going commando, lol. I've been wearing a bandeau - a whole new world for me!)

Scarring wise, it looks a million times better than I had feared it would look. Each breast has one incision. On the left breast, where I have my nipple, it starts at the bottom of the nipple and goes down to the bottom of the breast. On the right side, it starts a little higher up, where the top of my nipple used to be, and just like the other, goes down to the bottom of the breast.

Possible Risks for the Future
There are a few. In order of importance:

First and foremost on my mind is, of course, recurrence of the cancer. Or any cancer. The big milestones are 2 years, 5 years, then 10 years.

Second is possible side effects from the chemo, the antibodies, and radiation down the road.  There are possible heart issues, that's one that I know about.  I'm not too concerned about that right now as it was a no-brainer choosing between chemo and possible future side effects.  The fact that I was so healthy also decreases the chance of having those side effects.

Third is the risk of lymphedema. This is a blockage within the lymphatic system which causes lymphatic fluid to collect and would cause my arm to swell.  This is a condition that, if it develops, can cause a lot of pain. I'm banking on it not developing; however, it is still a risk. I'm also at higher risk of infection in that arm because I (hopefully) have no lymph nodes in my arm, which are an important part of the immune system. As a result, I cannot have any medical procedures done on my right arm.  This includes having my blood pressure taken or having any blood drawn from that arm.  I also will have to be very careful getting manicures, and make sure that the place I go uses sterile equipment.

What's Next
Radiation.  The final leg of the trifecta.  I should be starting within the next two weeks or so.  It will be Monday through Friday, for likely 28 sessions. It looks like they will be radiating two areas - the breast and the shoulder, which between them will get my underarm, where the lymph nodes were. I had an appointment with one radiologist, and he seemed good. I'm going to meet with at least one more before I choose, and I have to make sure the rest of my team agrees with the treatment. They say it will make me tired, but nowhere near chemo tired. Bring it on. After chemo, I can handle anything!

I will continue radiation while I go back to work in September. I'm working all summer to create my units and daily lessons through October at least. Even without radiation, my body is still healing, and my strength is nowhere near where I'm working to have it be, so I'm working to have things planned out everywhere as much as I can to ensure success in all the things that matter to me.

I'm also continuing antibody injections every three weeks through February. There are two: herceptin and perjeta (a new drug that came out within the last year). These two are not chemo, and have essentially no side effects. The injections take a little over an hour. They attack the HER2 (which is a gene or something - google it and see if you can explain it to me, because I'm completely lost in trying to understand it), which is what caused the type of cancer I had.



And that's it for now.  My journey with cancer is nowhere near over.  I still have a road ahead of me, and I will continue to share it with you. It looks like the hardest part is behind me, and I thank G-d for that every day, while I pray that I will never have to repeat it.

Check your breasts.  Go see your doctors. And then go out and live your lives.

Love to all of you, and thanks for reading.

XOXO

Ode to Mah Boobies

But not really an ode, because it hits on maybe one of the stylistic aspects of what an ode actually is... Really it's just personification in free verse, with no meter or rhyme scheme.  C'mon y'all - you know I have to be specific here, I'm an English teacher (and go easy on me - I'm an essayist not a poet, and I'm trying to keep things light!).

My boobies...

You were the first ones on the scene in the 5th grade.
I wore a bra and got embarrassed, so I hid it in my cubby.
Charles Pritsky and James LaRocco tried to grab it (the bra, not the boobs).
I think I liked the attention.

You were the biggest out of our friends in Junior High.
In a stage where I was awkward, big nosed and taller than everyone else (even some teachers),
You gave me some confidence and helped me stand out in a way that had some positive elements.
And the whistles and cat-calls from guys on the street didn't hurt either.

In high school, you were one of many bouncing pairs,
And you filled out a large C to a D.  We still stood out,
But nothing so as to embarrass us anymore.
And damn we looked good in a bikini.

Ahhh college.  Way too many boys probably saw you.
Thank goodness there were no camera phones,
Because at times I was pretty dumb.
But shhhhh... we won't talk about that here.
Either way, we were quite the pair.

Why would they let 22 year old us teach high school boys?
I had to wear band-aids over your nipples just to hope the boys would pay attention.
To my lessons, I mean.
Finally they started selling padded bras in our size.
Poor boys.

That time we tried a Miracle bra and you almost gave me a black eye,
Remember that?
Tying for first place in the wet t-shirt contest in Turks and Caicos?
The contest on Opie and Anthony?
Big tips with a low-cut shirt while bartending -
Lesson #1 - a little boob = big tips.

You hurt so badly while I was pregnant,
But that first time Phoenix latched on... barely out of the womb for ten minutes.
Raina too.
My two boobie babies, drinking my boobie juice.

Pumping in the ESL room at work for Phoenix,
The English book closet for Raina.
I was so proud you were able to sustain my children,
Give them all the food they needed.
It was so amazing, watching them grow,
And knowing it all came from you.
From us.

And I have to say - you have held up wonderfully.
I mean really - you're both frikking gorgeous.
Between gravity and the breastfeeding,
You should have been so much lower,
and saggier.
But not for nothing, you look
Better than a lot of boobs in their twenties who have never fed even one baby.

You've never failed me, girls.
Not once,
Not even close.
And now,
Once again,
You're making me proud.
You're sacrificing your gorgeous, glorious, glamorous selves
For me. For my husband.  For my kids.  For my future.

Thank you, ladies.
I am forever in your debt.
For all of it.

Chemo #6 - LAST CHEMO!!!

This is it, people.  G-d willing, my last chemo ever.  That's me, waving bye-bye.  I'm hydrating like crazy to ensure as smooth a recovery as possible, and I am full of euphoric joy at the moment.  Phase 1 of this unplanned journey is almost complete.  And as bad as it was at times (and will likely be within the next week or so), much like childbirth, the pain and discomfort are a memory ~  I know it happened because I remember it happened, but the physical aspect is in the past.

Many people have told me how strong I am and have been through this all.  And I own that ~ I have always been clear that I'm a powerhouse, and chemo has proven that to me once again.  I've even had a few moments of adrenaline rushes to see how far my body could be pushed.  Not quite as fun as jumping out of a plane or the like, but the same kind of do-or-die rush I used to enjoy so much before I had kids.  I own that those may be strange thoughts, but thoughts and feelings that have gone through my head nonetheless.

And my intention is not to diminish my strength when I say this, but at the same time, it was easy for me to be strong, because the chemo worked, and I knew from the beginning it would work, regardless of the aggressive, Stage 3 possibly morphing into Stage 4 aspect of my diagnosis.  I knew from the beginning I would beat this. I cannot imagine the strength of those who put their bodies through this knowing that the cancer will kill them in the end, and do it to extend their lives, praying they last as long as possible.  People like my Aunt Judy.  That woman was a fighter, and didn't give up in spirit, even when her body did.  That, my friends, is strength of which I am in awe.  And it is a strength that I pray I will never have to find within myself, or that any of you will have to find within yourselves.

So I want to create a shoutout to chemo.  A thank you.  There are so many F-chemo posts out there, or anger at chemo (and I get it, I truly do - I don't think it's something many desire), but I am one of the blessed for whom chemo has been a Godsend.

So here is my farewell...

Thank you, Taxotere and Carboplatin.  Thank you for attacking all fast growing cells in my body and creating the miracle of remission within two cycles of using you.

Thank you, Herceptin and Perjeta.  Thank you for attacking the HER2 hormones that were feeding the cancer and creating the miracle of remission within two cycles of using you.  Herceptin, I am happy to continue my relationship with you over the next year.

Thank you Dr. Bert Petersen for referring me to Dr. Stephen Malamud (and getting me in to see him three hours later), one of NY's top 100 doctors all around (for how many years now?), who prescribed me the above course of chemo and gave me doses strong enough to push my body to its limits to get those drugs to work their magic, all the while with a nurturing bedside manner, and being available to me 24/7 (how many doctors do you text regularly with questions, and get almost immediate responses?).

Thank you to the amazing nurses and staff at Beth Israel Cancer Center, gracious, caring, involved, and making a difference in saving lives every single day you wake up and go to work.

Thank you, doctors, researchers, lab assistants, and everyone who dedicated countless hours developing the chemo and antibodies that will enable me to watch my children grow from here on earth, and giving my children the gift of their mother (and that includes you, Big Pharma - never woulda thunk...)

Thank you to the women (and men!) who were part of test studies to make sure these medications worked.  I pray your results were as good as mine.

Thank you to all of you who walk, raise money, and donate your time and energy to funding cancer research.  Perjeta has only been around for the last year or so. Herceptin, also a key antibody in my treatment and lowering my risks of recurrence, was developed and added into treatments only a decade and a half ago, and is being studied for use in other cancers as well.  And that was after the HER2 hormones were isolated.  That research is part of what your money funds when you give.  

Chemo - who you are to me is the medical incarnation of that too-strict teacher who pushes you past the limits of what you thought could be possible with blood, sweat, and tears.  I may have hated you at times, but I was always clear that your intention was to empower me to be stronger than I ever thought possible, and in the process you taught me new ways to be that will empower me for the rest of my life.

Peace out, yo.

How to Organize Cancer (Or Any Major Illness)

So... you or a loved one has been diagnosed with a major illness.  Besides the stress and fear, there's also the knowledge (even if buried way back in your subconscious) that there is going to be a whole crapload of information to keep track of, as well as the inevitable bills, even if you have great health insurance.  And chances are, you are going to need that information at some point or another (and I'm not just talking about bills here ~ I am not going to deal with money at all in this post, just ways of keeping track of things).

Now I'm someone who loves to organize and create systems, so when I was first diagnosed with cancer, creating the binder I'm going to show you was one of the first things I did.  Things like this calm me and make me feel like I have some level of control over my circumstances.  If that's not you (and I know that's not a lot of people), no problem!  When you or a loved one get diagnosed with a major illness, everyone says "What can I do?"  And most of them mean it.  Well, choose someone whose organizing abilities you trust, and send them the link to this site and have them do it ~  because this is going to be my first tutorial:

How to Organize Your Major Illness!

I make it sound so exciting, right?

To give credit where credit is due, most of my binder creation techniques come from Alejandra at alejandra.tv, where I purchased her Power Productivity Program (PPP) some time ago, and it has proven invaluable to me in many areas of my life. I also subscribe to her Member's Only Forum.  It's awesome and I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to add and hone organization in their lives.  Some of the items in my binder (both Alejandra's products and office supplies) I had purchased long before my diagnosis, and you can do the same or you can create or find your own.

Supplies (This includes the brands I use, but of course you can use any brand. There are also items you don't necessarily "need", but I designed this binder to be self-sufficient. In other words, you have all things you need at all times and never have to ask someone for a pencil).

• 1" Staples Better View Binder with D-rings (In my opinion, these are the best and can withstand some heavy abuse and don't open or break, and they come in an array of colors and sizes)
• Avery Extrawide Ready Index Dividers, 10 tabs (I like this product because the extrawide dividers leave me room to subdivide sections, which you will see in my bills section - they also are great if you put paper in plastic protective sheets - they fit inside these dividers)
• Binder 3-hole punch (this allows me to punch holes and place papers into my binder immediately so they won't get lost - if you choose not to get it, you will definitely need some sort of hole punch so you can put the many papers into the proper sections)
• Binder pencil case (to keep pens, pencils, and the mini-stapler or tape)
• Mini-stapler or small roll of tape to fit into pencil case
• 3-ring binder business card holders
•  Loose leaf paper
• 1 poly-envelope for 3-ring binders
• Post-it Stick on labels
• Label maker * (optional - I used this to label my sections)

Set Up and Description, Section by Section

 Section 1 - Calendar

 This calendar is a monthly calendar and it is used ONLY for my cancer treatments and appointments (admittedly, for the first few months these treatments and appointments took over my life and became the only things I needed to keep track of - everything else was delegated).  The particular calendar I use I had purchased from Alejandra.tv previously, but you can use any one.
     
The pictures are my actual calendar from my binder.  Everything you see here is real, haha.  Which also explains all the slashes through dates as they passed - I wanted to see the physical progression of time, and it made me feel better when I crossed out those dates.  It's not so great for a blog tutorial, and I apologize for that!

If you look closely, you will see there are circled #s on certain dates.  These are correlated with receipts of paid bills.  I get into that in Section 5 - bills/insurance.
  

In the March calendar you can see I also wrote down what meds I needed to take around my chemo dates, and checked them off as I did them.  This ended up working best for me, and I did not use the checklist I had created for it in Section 2, back when I thought that was how I would do it. And that's the most important thing about organization - it has to be something that WORKS FOR YOU!

Section 2 - Checklists
This is a section that I really thought I would use a lot, as checklists were a major part of my pre-chemo life.  I love checklists - they make me happy.  They just didn't work so well for this part of my life.  What I did end up using this section for was keeping track of things I had to do or needed done, both inside and outside of my cancer life.  I had a list of things I needed to do, like thank you notes and getting taxes done.  I also had lists of things that I needed done but couldn't do myself and/or could delegate.  This is a perfect place to keep a list of things, and then when people tell you they want to help, you have an entire list of things to look at and say "Hey - I need a birthday present for a 5 year old boy - would you be able to pick something up for me and wrap it, by Friday?"  I'm not showing pictures of these checklists because they are part of the Power Productivity Program I mentioned earlier, and that is proprietary to Alejandra.tv, but you get the point.

Section 3 - Medical History
This is a form I created from information I gathered from an online search I had done of planners for people diagnosed with cancer, before I decided to create my own.  This is not necessarily something I have needed as I've progressed through my treatments, but the advice was that even once cancer is beaten, checkups will continue for years, and things we never think we will forget we will have forgotten, and if we switch doctors we will have everything at our fingertips.  I wish I could remember what the sites were that I got this information from so I could give credit for the inspiration and ideas, but I don't. See? They were right - I did forget!  

Section 4 - Reports
This section was simply where I put all medical reports I got.  What I have in this section are biopsy reports, my EKG report, blood analysis, etc.  Several doctors have asked to see this information, and it was super handy to be able to just hand it over rather than waiting for hospitals to fax the information.

Section 5 - Bills and Insurance
Outside of the actual cancer and treatments, the thing I found most stressful was money and bills, and it seems this is common.  What this section is for is keeping track of bills paid and communications from insurance companies and hospitals.  Unpaid bills remained in a pile of my desk until I got to them, and to be honest sometimes they sat there for a month or more.  Whatevs.  This was important for me to handle because I'm the one in the family who handles the finances.  If you're not that person, this section may not be necessary for you, or you may want to have the person who does the finances handle it.  Much of this information I may never need, but if I do, I have it.

In addition to bills, there were many other communications I received in the mail, with a whole bunch of paperwork. I didn't want to throw them out in case I needed them (I learned that lesson through a reimbursement battle I had years ago with my old health insurance company), and I certainly didn't want to leave them on the counter, so I subdivided this section into 4 parts, based upon their source - Receipts, Emblem (Blue Cross and Blue Shield - not bills but statements), Care Core (They seem to be a subcontracted company that handles approvals of procedures), and Hospital Communications (NOT bills - these are written statements of findings and actions I must take).  This is what I used those Post-it stick on labels for. 

As far as bills, Remember those numbers on the calendar?  Those numbers correlate with copays and bills paid on the spot, usually at doctor's offices.  I numbered the receipts, and then placed the corresponding number next to the appointment.  Each receipt gets taped or stapled to its own full sized sheet of paper (this is what the mini-stapler or tape is for) and placed in the Receipts section in numerical order so I can easily reference it if an issue arises. And one already has - I got a letter from one office telling me I owed them a copay for a visit that I had already paid for.  I snapped a picture of the receipt with my phone and emailed it to them, and it was handled. (please note, in this picture I covered credit card information with post-it notes).

Behind the numbered receipts I have the bottom portion of the bills I paid by mail or on the internet, with either the check number I used or the confirmation code from the web. 

Section 6 - Notes

Here is where your loose leaf paper goes.  This section is for taking notes.  That's it.  It's one place to keep track of the names and dates and instructions and questions you have.  It's all in one place, and if you need to go back and find something, there are no little post-its scattered around your house that you have to find (although there are some post-its I taped into this section, admittedly!)

Section 7 - Medications
This section is where I have the original write-up of what my oncologist prescribed for me for my chemo, as well as the sheets that come stapled to all of my prescriptions with the warnings and refill information.  It's handy for handling refills, and has also been important because often new offices want to know what medications I'm on, and there is no way I'm going to remember.  This way I don't have to.

Section 8 - Symptoms
This is a section that, like the checklists one, I thought I would use more than I did.  It's a symptoms tracker that I had made based on research I did on various websites (I think I got most of it from the same one as the medical one).  I didn't need to track my symptoms because they were pretty much always the same, and I got them handled by being in communication with my doctor.

If you choose to use this, the idea is that you write your symptoms across the top (nausea, headache, etc), and then rate it on a scale of 1-10, one being barely there, 10 being unbearable (in which case I hope you would call your doctor or 911 immediately! I think you should call your doctor if your symptom is above a 3, but that's just me.)

Section 9 - Business Cards
I got a lot of business cards from doctors and I knew I would need to keep them for future reference (and I have needed a number of them).  Enter the business card holder.  Nothing more needs to be said.

Section 10 - Films
This section is where my intention was to keep the films I got.  They turned out to be a lot smaller than I thought they would be, as most of them were on CD rather than giant x-ray type pages.  So I also used the poly envelope as a place to keep cards and notes I got from people who love me.  :-)

And that's it!

Having this binder on me at all times has really made things streamlined.  Everything in one place in an organized fashion makes life much easier, especially when everything else has been turned upside down. And the times when I didn't have it on me and needed information, I was able to call my mom or husband and ask them to find me that information (so long as I knew where the actual binder was, LOL).

Thanks for reading, and as much as I hope you never need to use this because I hope you or a loved one never have a major illness to contend with, if you do, I hope this makes a difference for you.

XOXO

Chemo #5 - Owning Anxiety

Hello my friends! Here I am posting about chemo #5 an entire week later, when usually I post about my chemo on the day of.

It's been a rough week.  It was a rough chemo.

The roughest since that first one.  My mom and I think it may be because I didn't hydrate as much as I normally do with my usual broth.  My oncologist thinks it's related to the anxiety I've been feeling about my upcoming surgery.  It's likely a combination of the two, plus a bunch of other factors I have no clue about. Either way, the broth and the anxiety are two things I'm taking on between now and my next (and last!) chemo.  The broth is easy - it's super easy to make and will take all of 10 minutes of active prep-time.  The anxiety, however...

I've never had to deal with anxiety.  Don't get me wrong - I've been anxious!  Going back to work when my son was seven weeks old, starting a job at a new school, dealing with money and legal issues, when my dad died... I know what it means to feel anxious, even a bit depressed.  No claim of a perfect life over here!  I've just never been in a situation where,  for a prolonged length of time, I'm living in circumstances that are not of my choosing and from which I cannot walk away, and the journey forward is one that's got some monumental changes coming, also that are not of my choosing.  And then there's the added mental confusion of the fact that I *am* choosing my course of action - I have the right and power to refuse chemo and the surgeries and radiation.  I just like the alternative (painful death from cancer) a lot less.  So.... add those two together and you've got where I am right now.  This is no "chocolate/vanilla" choice. This is the distinction of choosing, the learning to dance in the rain rather than waiting for the storm to pass - in full living color. And it's uncomfortable. And that was my understatement of the century.

When I'm uncomfortable (not physically, rather in terms of my mental/emotional state), I know that it's me growing. I've learned that when I'm uncomfortable I can either hibernate and stay stagnant and uncomfortable, or I can take a few leaps that are even more uncomfortable to grow a little more, kind of like ripping off a bandaid.  So that's what I've begun to do. I took some actions that are aligned with my decreasing my anxiety, and so far they seem to be working.

The first thing I did was reach out to women who have been in my position before. Yeah, about time, right? I was afraid of hearing horror stories and set backs and recurrences of cancer and about people who died... I didn't want to hear about anything that could influence my having a positive outlook and make me more scared than I already was. I bit that bullet, and got into action. I had spoken with a few women previously, but no one who had been in my circumstances. The group Sharsharet, a breast cancer support service group that is predominantly Jewish women (although they work with everyone!), hooked me up with a link - a woman who was in the same circumstances as me but several years out and cancer free. And it was crazy - this woman had the same form of cancer (HER2+), same stage (3), same treatments for the same amount of time, had the same surgeries that I'm getting, and when she was diagnosed her two kids were the same ages as mine are! When we spoke, we realized how much more we have in common - even pre-surgery bra size and body image. Speaking with her was empowering. I'm glad I made that call.

I also went into Victoria's Secret and checked out bras in what will be my new size.  That may sound silly, but having lived my life as a D, the prospect of being a B (which is what I will have to be because they are using the fat from my stomach to create the new breasts and that's about how much fat I have, even if I gain weight.) is something new for me. I realized I don't even know what a B looks like. I spoke with the clerk and explained the situation, and she was great. She showed me the mannequin, and told me that was a B. So I have a good idea of what I will look like, at least in clothes. And it ain't so bad. It seems clothing will fit me better, as clothing is designed for women with a B chest. Who knew?  Anxiety about how I will look is a bit decreased, although I have to admit I'm still petrified of scarring.  And that's normal, it seems. Of course it is.  If it was anyone else it would be completely normal - but since it's me... well, I just have to be perfect now don't I? No anxiety allowed for me!

Which of course is ridiculous. Which is why I really really really bit the bullet and called my oncologist and asked for medication for the anxiety.

Do you hear that?

That's the shocked, judgmental, "you are a failure and I don't even have words for you" silence that I'm projecting you are giving me because it's a bit of how I feel about it for myself.  And I know it's ridiculous. And my brain is making that up anyway. That's more of that uncomfortable stuff I was talking about above - to move through it and have some uncomfortable growing pains and be strong and empowered when it's over.

So that's what's been going on for me over the last week or so. I'm getting closer - only one chemo left, and less than a month until my bilateral mastectomy. And I want it to come fast and get it over with, and I want to slow time down and have it never come,  and either way, it's going to come and go, and in the end it's empty and meaningless and it's empty and meaningless that it's empty and meaningless. Going to take today and take my meds and love my husband and my kids and my mom and my sister and praise God for all that I have.

Thanks for reading,
XOXO

Owning dirt! : Making a compost bin

Who wants to make some dirt??  Make dirt?  That's insane.  From food scraps?  Won't it rot and smell?Well, maybe.  I don't know yet.  I did see some bugs and stuff the last time I threw stuff into my compost bin and seriously thought about calling this whole little project off, but I thought better of it.  Because I want to make some dirt!!

When we decided to build a raised vegetable bed, the idea of composting was a natural offshoot for me. After all, what better way to create healthy plants than with compost?  And why buy it from the store when I can make my own, for free, from the scraps that fill up our garbage every night anyway?  Mmmmmmm, yummy.

The hubs and I did our research on the web, and we decided to go with small, simple and cheap to start off. We bought a large garbage can with a locking lid (it cost us about $14).  Then Jason drilled holes all over it, a few inches apart.  All over.  Top, bottom, sides.  If you look carefully, you can see all the little holes. This allows air flow to occur all over, oxidizing and breaking down the leaves and food stuff into what will become compost.  We normally have it raised on bricks, but I took this picture as I was getting ready to roll it.

Then, we used leaves that had fallen in the yard (less raking and throwing out leaves in the trash as well!) to create a ratio of 4:1.  Four parts "brown" (leaves, newspaper, etc)

to one part "green," For the green, we noobies to composting, in a small, highly regulated city, chose to use only raw fruits and veggies, coffee grinds, tea and egg shells.  They seemed the least risky in terms of safety, and smells, and possible neighbor complaints.  And even though our wildlife is somewhat scarce in NYC, we do have opossums and raccoons where I live, and ain't nobody got time for that. There are a lot of other options people choose; some use bones and meat and cooked food, and there's nothing wrong with that.  We just chose this method.

We keep the scraps in an air-tight locking container that some quick dry cement we had bought previously to patch a small area of our patio came in.  It stays on our counter, and locks tight enough to keep any smells or cats from getting out or in, respectively.  It's designed to keep wet cement from drying out, so clearly it's working. And it was free.  If this works out and I become a master composter, I'll buy a sexy stainless steel one.  For now, re- purposed garbage will do.

Every few days, we roll it around on the ground to get the gross stuff mixed.

We are also supposed to keep the mixture moist, although with all the rain we've been having, that hasn't been an issue.

I'll post an update in a few weeks to see whether it's worked or not!!

Thanks for reading and following!!

XOXO
Marissa

How I learned I had "The Cancuh" - Timeline of a Diagnosis (Part I)

I've gotten a lot of questions from a lot of people (and that I myself asked...) that went something along the lines of WTF? How do you have cancer? How did that happen?  You breast fed two kids, that's supposed to reduce the risk! You don't smoke and eat so healthy! You're so young! You're not even in a high risk group! (I'm not - I am the first person in my immediate and to a certain extent somewhat extended family to have breast cancer, even though there are some more distant relatives who were diagnosed.  In addition, as far as I know, I am the only person to have it pre-menopausal). Well, I'm still not sure of the HOW (although there are some theories, like living down the block from ground zero for a few weeks...), but here is the basic timeline of the WHAT (as in what happened):

Late July, 2013 - annual OBGYN check-up. All clear.

Early August, 2013 - my daughter Raina pushed on my breast as she was getting up, and it hurt.  I felt a lump.  I called my mom, freaking out.  I made an appointment with her breast surgeon (although she'd never had an issue, she's always had cystic breasts and thus had a surgeon).  Made an appointment for the next week.

Mid-August, 2013 - went to see breast surgeon.  He felt lump, said it did not concern him in that it had no 'markers' of cancer (it was even, circular, moved around, and it hurt, and cancer usually doesn't hurt). Still, he told me to get a mammogram, but said there was no rush. Within the next month would be fine.

August 2013 -January 2014 - it kept getting bigger. I kept putting off getting a mammogram. It hurt, and the last thing I wanted was to have it squished between two plates. And I was sure it was nothing. And hey, I'm a mom and I'm busy and I have a million other things to do.

Early January 2014 - go to OBGYN for completely unrelated issue. While I was there, I asked the doc to check it out. He repeated what the breast surgeon said - he wasn't too concerned, it didn't have those markers of cancer, but GO GET A MAMMOGRAM AND DON'T PUT IT OFF - he said he felt it was at least 4+ cm.

Mid January 2014 - made the mammogram appointment.

February 7, 2014:
7:45 am appt - went in for mammogram, and sonogram (both were scheduled simultaneously because of size of mass).  Confident as anything.  I was so sure it was nothing, I went by myself.

8:15 am - mammogram. The squishing hurt nowhere near what I thought it would. Not too bad.

9:00 am - sonogram. I flat out told the tech I was sure it wasn't anything. She wasn't so sure. She had to use two sonogram screens put together to get a picture of the entire mass.

9:30 am - The doctor came in (where I go, when there is a known irregularity they have the doctors read it right there) and said the mass was 7.6 cm (what I HEARD and LIVED WITH the next few days was that the mass was 17 cm!!!), and he wanted a biopsy. I asked him what he thought, in his opinion. He said he thought it was cancerous, and that because of the size of the mass, I would likely need a mastectomy. (Now, for those of you who don't know me, I'm a no-nonsense, don't BS me kind of woman. Always have been, and always will be. I don't know if this is the answer he would have given everyone, but it's the answer he gave me - I wasn't playing games). I asked him if this was going to kill me.  He said no.  I said "ok then, we can move on."

9:32 am - the floor drops from under my world

9:35 am - I got dressed and waited in the waiting room to make an appointment for the biopsy.  Texted my friend Roberta and dumped everything on her.  Everyone needs a friend like that, who you can just text-dump things on.

9:45 am - go in to make appointment.  There were two wonderful ladies there - Emily and Nancy.  It was a small room, and we all spoke a bit, looking for the first appointment available.  At one point I looked at them and said "I'm doing a really good job of holding it together over here, and I'm not sure how much longer I can do it..."  and then I burst into tears, sobbing for I don't know how long.  I think I just said over and over "I have two babies, one is five and one is two..."  These two women...  I can't even state how wonderful they were.  How important they were.  They sat there and comforted me for probably close to 45 minutes.  Emily hugged me and spoke with me.  Nancy told me stories about women with breast cancer who survived and lived happily ever after.  They did not let me leave that room until I was calm and ok. I made my appointment for 6 days later, February 12.

10:30 am - walk to car, call husband.  No answer.  Call my mom, speak with her.  Call my husband's job and have him paged.  Speak with him.  Texted sister to call me when she got out of work and could have a conversation.

11:00-2:20pm - go to work.  I know, sounds crazy, but I was alone and scared and had no clue of what to do, and I knew that going home to be by myself would be the worst thing to do.  And it was the best choice - I was surrounded by friends who were supportive and I was able to get right into my routine of teaching.

February 12, the day before my biopsy appointment - a snowstorm was on its way, scheduled to arrive that night, and I was nervous I wouldn't be able to get to my biopsy appointment.  On the advice of my colleagues (who actually came to the door of my classroom while I was teaching to tell me this! What love! :-), I went to the breast center after work to see if they could fit me in.  As soon as I got there I asked for Emily from the other day.  She, along with the doctors, found a way to fit me in.  They stayed late to make sure.  They biopsied two spots on the big lump on my breast, and an enlarged lymph node.  Amazing people, I tell you.  I also gave Emily my phone number.  She's been texting me and checking up with me ever since.  I love that woman!

February 14 - Valentine's Day - Got the results.  I went with my sister and husband while my mom watched the kids.  Clearly, the results were positive or this entry would not exist.  Interestingly, the results for the lump in my breast were something called DCIS, which is not actually cancer but pre-cancerous.  The results for my lymph node were positive for breast cancer.  I learned that what this means isn't that there wasn't any cancer, but rather the large mass wasn't 100% cancer all through, and the biopsy had not gotten the part with cancer.  However, I learned that there is no way there would be cancer in the lymph nodes if there is no cancer in the breast.  I also was quite clear that it was an aggressive, fast moving cancer that had already spread, and I knew I wouldn't know how far it had spread until I got a PET scan.  When we learned the news we were in a room with the doctor who had done the biopsy and a nurse.  My sister (who is getting her MS in Health Ed. and had been doing research after banning me from going on the internet) asked a whole bunch of questions, and my husband and I just sat there (I have no clue what he was thinking... maybe I should ask).  The nurse told me she would not be able to schedule me for anything with the surgeon until Tuesday because it was a 3-day weekend.  My mom told Jason and me to go out together for dinner, and we did.  Not quite the most romantic atmosphere ever for a Valentine's Day date, but we did enjoy some sushi and some time together. This was officially the beginning of the most trying and difficult week of my life.  Not because of anything that happened over the next week, but rather the not knowing - not knowing how far it had spread, not knowing if it would kill me, not knowing what this new journey I was on was going to look like.  I was walking around for the next week feeling like a ticking timb-bomb.

And that's it for Part I.

Part II will be meeting the doctors who would save my life, getting ready for and starting treatment, all the way up to now.  And I promise it will be more upbeat!!!

Thank for reading and following!
XOXO

Building Our Raised Vegetable Bed: Getting My "Little House on the Prairie" On

When we first bought our town house in the borough of Staten Island in the summer of 09, we knew that we needed to do a lot of work.  Almost all of the work was cosmetic, and we really felt that we would be able to handle it on our own (HA!!).  The house had incredible potential though – 3 floors, 3 bathrooms, 4 bedrooms, a garage, a fireplace, a backyard, a balcony off the kitchen, an attic for storage, lots of closets, and a backyard that, while small, is big enough for the kids to play in and me to create some garden space.  For those of you who know anything about New York City real estate, this is an insane wishlist for anyone who’s not a trust-fund baby.  To give some perspective, the year before we bought the house, I sold my one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn for close to $300,000.  And this was BEFORE the ridiculous property value climb of Brooklyn real estate to astronomical, unaffordable prices (but before bubble burst in 08). 

We thought we’d be tackling most of our projects within the first year, but as anyone who’s ever owned a house could have probably told us… FAT CHANCE!  Here we are, four years later, with almost none of the cosmetic work done.  Instead of beginning the process of redoing bathrooms, the kitchen, adding crown molding and recessed lighting and redoing our backyard with stonework and an outdoor kitchen, most of our money has been spent on the non-cosmetic: new windows and sliding glass doors, fixed plumbing leaks, new appliances for the kitchen and a new washer/dryer (not to mention daycare, diapers, and other kid-related expenses!).  Now that I’m not working as I convalesce from cancer treatments and soon surgery, it goes without saying that aint nuttin getting done for the next few years!  But that’s ok – as we say every night when we say our prayers, `we are thankful for our warm, safe, comfy, cozy, house.’  And we are.

However, when all is said and done, I wanted to be able to sit in the backyard and relax while my kids are able to play safely, and I wanted to grow my own veggies, outside of the little containers I’ve been using for the past few years on our terrace.   Especially because I am somewhat housebound, and will continue to be through the summer.  So, we put our heads together with some friends, and we came up with an idea that would give us an affordable way to create the basics of what we need to be able to make our backyard usable.

The issues:

·         Backyard on a downgrade, with a difference of over 18” from front to back

·        A drain in the middle of the backyard that was recessed over a foot, creating a sink-hole effect that made it practically impossible for the kids to play without falling and rolling in.

·       Unworkable, rocky soil

The plan:

·        Build a raised vegetable garden

·        Raise drain to be level with rest of yard

·        Level the yard

And that’s what we did! Well, that’s what the men did.  My husband and our friend Dmitry busted their butts for several days building and moving soil. Dmitry’s wife Shannon, who has been doing urban farming for the last few years, brought over a whole bunch of `crops’ to plant (as an aside, Shannon and Dmitry are the couple who introduced my husband and me…).

What we planted: kale, collard greens, broccoli, radishes, and multiple varieties of lettuce (including romaine, red leaf, butter, and more!)

We used the instructions in a Martha Steward Living magazine to build the bed, and the article can be found here.  We did differ from her instructions in that (a) instead of using L-brackets we used small pieces of wood, and (b) we made ours 16’x2’ instead of 18’x4’, just because it worked better for our space. Unfortunately, this won’t be a tutorial on how to build the bed.  I don’t have too many pictures, as we did this the week BEFORE I decided to start a blog, but here you can see the skeleton of the vegetable bed:

And here you can see the bed and backyard with the top soil added to level it off (and the grass seeds my husband planted are starting to come up!):

And here is the bed with all the plants planted!  

 

I am SO EXCITED to channel my inner Laura Ingalls Wilder and harvest my own food!  This is the most I’ve ever tried to garden.  Other than some small container plants on my terrace with herbs, I’ve never really gardened before.  I certainly hope I followed the planting directions properly- I gave the kale and collards about a square foot apiece, and interspersed the lettuce in between.  So this could be an epic win, and it could be an epic fail.  I will keep you all updated as the growing progresses.  I’ll do another post once the colder weather crops are done and I plant the warmer weather crops (tomatoes and cukes and beans, Oh My!!!).  

The Cost: $290

·        Materials to build the box - $115

·        Top soil - $175

·       Seedlings - FREE!!

*****One huge thing that I learned is that when purchasing a large amount of soil, the cheapest and best route is to go to a masonry place and have them deliver top soil.  It cost us about $175 for three cubic feet of soil, delivered, as opposed to well over $400 had we purchased it in bags.****

Thanks for reading!  I would love for you to all comment with your responses, reactions, and advice if you have any for this novice gardener/blogger.

XOXOs

Marissa

Chemo #4 - picture and update

So here I am, at Chemo #4.  I look so happy and relaxed, you'd think I was at a spa!  Yeah, no.  Not so bad for a selfie with my iPad and hospital lighting and a bunch of IV tubes coming from the port in my chest! That's me in my t-shirt head wrap and a scarf to accessorize. So purrrrrrtty.  I tried wearing big earrings like a few people have suggested, but I end up looking like a pirate. So no.  Maybe one day I'll do a tutorial post on how to do the t-shirt head wrap.  It's a good look, even if you have hair.  And yes, I doll myself up for chemo.  

As usual, I was exhausted by the end of the day, and using the bathroom a lot (#1, people, #1 - this isn't a TMI post) because I learned the hard way to flush my system like a crazy woman while getting treatment to get all of those IV drugs out of my system.  I actually set a timer while I'm there and make sure that every half an hour I drink 8 oz of fluids.  It makes a world of difference.

Each chemo has different effects on my body, and this time around, for the past 5 days, nausea has been my big issue, as well as a bit of insomnia.  Thanks to all of the anti-nausea medications I have I haven't actually... you know... puked... but sitting around nauseous for days on end isn't exactly fun. Ahh well, better than the alternative.  You know, that whole death by cancer thing.  Speaking of which...

Doc checked the boobs, and it seems that the lumps and bumps are still gone.  Ladies and gentlemen, the cancer has left the building.  Now it's just about keeping it that way.

Stay tuned for my next post, which will have nothing to do with cancer.  It's going to be all about the raised vegetable garden my husband and our friends built in our backyard, along with planting the baby veggies that are going to nourish our bodies!  Fun fun fun!!!

Peace out, yo.

My first blog post - and I'm owning it!

My name is Marissa, and thank you for taking a ride on my first entry into the blogosphere.  This blog is about me taking ownership of every area of my life, with power and freedom and joy, and sharing it with you and hopefully making a difference for you in the process.

Right now, the predominant area of my life that I'm dealing with powerfully (most of the time...) is Stage 3 Breast Cancer and my journey to health (which, incidentally, I'm winning!).  However, this blog isn't called owning cancer, because there's so much more to me than that, and this is certainly not all I am owning (and pretty soon it will no longer be the controlling force in my day to day life).

I'm also owning being a mom and a wife, a homeowner, and the finances.  Because I'm not working right now due to my illness, I'm also owning creating debt and pretty soon I'll be working to get out of it.  I own being thrifty, crafting and DIY, organizing, and scheduling.  I'm also a NYC high school English teacher, and I own that.  I cook and garden and bake and organic, and I own that.  I'm a New Yorker born and bred, and I'm Jewish (married to a non-Jew), and I own that.  I think the title of my blog may be becoming clear...

I'm looking forward to this journey, and am hoping to get some posts up within the next week - I am super duper new to this, and I own that I have no clue what I am doing when it comes to what this blog is going to look like physically, although I do have a lot of ideas on the content.  Bear with me as I learn how this whole shebang works.

Thanks for reading!

Marissa