To a Beautiful Woman I Didn't Know....

I knew you through a good close friend, we had a few things in common; we were both young wives and mothers to small girls, we both surrounded ourselves with good friends and we both were Breast Cancer warriors.

I often inquired about how you were doing, you had a Breast Cancer diagnosis after I had mine. You had a very rough battle with this horrible disease all while taking care of a small child. So I asked about you yesterday, only to be shocked to find out that you were gone and you have been gone for a few weeks now, maybe a month; I don't know, nobody told me.

So I write today to remember you, a woman I prayed for, yet I never knew. But to also let good intentioned friends know that it is okay to tell a Breast Cancer survivor that there are people who don't survive the disease. We all know the ugly truth of the disease. Mine was caught very early, but you can sure as heck know that I am aware of my mortality statistics...

In keeping the death of a dear woman and fellow warrior away from those who have survived, we essentially deny this fallen soldier the credit she deserves for battling with such grace, dignity and strength.

Though it may pain you to know that Breast Cancer survivors will shed tears when another person dies of Breast Cancer, it is not out of self-pity or fear of our own demise. The tears are for the loss of a life too soon and all that could have been had a cure been found for this terrible disease just one day earlier.


Rest in peace, Lynn. We will keep fighting!

Do You See What I See?

I haven't published in some time, busy with a new chapter in my life. My girls are good, well adjusted to my divorce, but I think they still are waiting to see how I move about this life; their role model, per say.

We women are tough, even before we get older we are self-deprecating about the way we look. The root cause is not totally known; societal expectations or just our need to feel beautiful and accepted. Over time it is inevitable that our bodies will change simply by age, babies, or in my case by disease.

The real question I have yet to answer is "how do I look at myself in the mirror and like what I see?" If it isn't our hair, it's our weight or it's the clothes that make us look fat. Why do we do this to ourselves? It becomes even more difficult to like what you see when you look at a body that has in some ways failed us. Cancer survivors often have feelings of anger that the body we took such care of let us down in the worst kind of way. Even Lance Armstrong had such thoughts, if you have never read, It's Not About the Bike, you must!

Knowing that I have two little girls watching my every move, it becomes even more important for me to embrace the imperfect and flawed face and the body I see when I look in the mirror. There can be no lack of confidence with this because out there are two sets of beautiful blue eyes looking at me, trying to see how a woman is supposed to feel about herself. This is no easy task as I have lacked confidence in the way I look since I was not much older than them. I know it seems shallow, but I also know I'm not the only woman who feels this way.

All the more reason for me to break the chain with my girls...Wish me luck!

Fearless Defined??? Cancer Plus a Whole Lot More

This photo was taken in NYC on a Boat Cruise that I took with my daughters who helped raise over $5,000 last year for the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer Walk in Albany's Washington Park. Upon raising $2,500 or more you become part of an elite group of fundraisers for the American Cancer Society...A Pacesetter....I am also a daughter, a mother, a sister, an aunt, a business professional, a philathropist, a friend and someone who struggles every day to stay defined as such, and not just as a cancer patient.

As an almost 3 year survivor of breast cancer, every morning I think about all that has been gained and lost since my diagnosis. I have a BC life and an AC life. While I wouldn't trade the life experiences for anything, I always wonder about what my perspective would have been like with no cancer diagnosis.

Would it be easier to wake up every day, or has the knowledge that life is fragile and short made me appreciate all that I have? It is clear that this realization has led me to change the things in my life that are not working (sometimes in unproductive ways). Yet it is unclear whether those changes would have happened without cancer. I am not sure and perhaps it doesn't even matter.

The greatest concern is that all that I have strived for over the course of my life will get lost and I will be redefined as that woman who had cancer...and nothing more. I am proud to be a survivor, but when all is said and done and I take my last breath, I hope my friends and family see me as so much more than that....

Cancer may have shaped my life, but it will never define my life.

Be Well.

Time To Fly Little Bird...

Even if your mom is not quite ready for you to go.

One of the realizations that I had when I was diagnosed with cancer and facing my own mortality was that my eldest daughter was painfully attached to me. She had always been that way ever since she was born. We as parents did nothing to discourage that. As an infant she would cry so hard when I would leave her that she would make herself sick; so I didn't leave her very often.

As she got older, we continued the doting and essentially we became what modern sociologists call "helicopter parents"...always hovering, tending to every need and whimper and always acting on behalf of the child instead of kindly encouraging the child to do for herself. While it seemed that we were raising a kind, bright, self-adjusted kid, a cancer diagnosis made it crystal clear to me that this kind of parenting would make it all the more difficult for my daughter to cope if I were to die of this disease (not to sound morbid, but that is what was going through my mind at the time).

Often I have discussed my learning's from cancer, but to date I have wanted to explain how it dramatically changed my parenting style from one of continuous attention to my girls to conscious empowerment of my girls. It was important that if something were to happen to me, my daughters would be okay. I made a point of starting to encourage them to solve their own conflicts, do things more often for themselves, and continue to build their self-confidence. The end result was that I had to let go and now it feels so much easier and lighter to parent children who take pride in being independent and confident in their abilities to make decisions of their own.

While I am still far from being a perfect parent, I am proud of the fact that I have been able to let my children fly by the parenting choices I have made, and not because of the losses they could have faced had my fight with cancer had taken a different path. Watching my kids soar is the best feeling a mother could ever have.

Hannah and Jessie...You make me proud every day. Keep on flying!

Hooray for CYP2D6 Ultra Rapid Metabolizer!!!

My last post was in anxious anticipation of an upcoming Oncology appointment. At this appointment, Dr. Collea recommended I get tested to see if my body changes Tamoxifen properly into Endoxifen which is ultimately responsible for much of the anti-cancer effect of Tamoxifen. For those of you who don't know my history, I am estrogen receptor positive and Tamoxifen is the ONLY drug treatment for pre-menopausal women. I decided to get the CYP2D6 test as it would allow me to make choices about my health before a recurrence could happen.

If you are a poor metabolizer of Tamoxifen it is unlikely that your body will convert the Tamox. into it's most active form, Endoxifen. This essentially means that the drug is not an effective breast cancer treatment. Doctors recommend if you are a poor metabolizer, that you choose a different form of treatment such as ovarian suppression or removal -- which are not without significant side effects.

Okay enough background. I took the CYP2D6 blood test to determine my metabolizer genotype. Today I received a call from Dr. Collea, when I saw the number, my heart sunk...I answered the phone as a pessimist "what's the bad news Doc.?" He proceeded to tell me to stop being a pessimist because I am an ultra rapid metabolizer of Tamox. This means that my body very effectively changes this drug into its most effective form, Endoxifen.

Hooray! Hooray! Another lesson learned and another cause for celebration! I know this all too well...We spend way too much time worrying about what may happen in our lives, and not enough time rejoicing and savoring the moment when life is good.

I am savoring it now!

Fearlessly Vulnerable...

Anyone reading this knows that my screen name is fearless and for most things, I have no fear...Just ask my friends! Thursday I head to my regularly scheduled Oncology appointment; every 4 months for an exam and blood tests to see if there are any stray cancer cells left in my body. So far, I am all clear.

While I am not any more worried about this visit in comparision to the other bazillion appointments and tests that I have to take, the appointments are still as painful to bear as they were when my diagnosis was new. Infact, in some ways the appointments are worse because I don't have cancer...in the beginning when the diagnosis was new, it was clear that I had it and so the tests were not really going to tell me otherwise.

Almost 3 years later, even though I feel very healthy both mentally and physically, these appointments make my vulnerabilities rear their ugly head while I sit anxiously awaiting results. I think about all that I have to lose, my children, my friends, a love for life; not to mention the potential of facing another fight that will be more brutal than the last. And if I did have to fight again, would I have the strength?

All these thoughts go through my mind as I sit in the waiting room trying not to notice that there are many older people around and they are all staring at me...or at least that what it feels like.

In the end though, the man who draws my blood and wears a "cancer sucks" pin on his white coat always makes me laugh, especially when he draws the smiley faces on my band-aids. The nurses show kindness that is over and above my expectations and my Oncologist, Dr. Collea, just rocks!

So this Thursday oh how I wish to recieve another "get out of jail free" card aka "clean bill of health" just so I can move on with the next 4 months of my life...

Thanks for reading!

Red Lipstick Rules...Cancer Can't Take That From Me! (A Dedication to Bev)

To say that Breast Cancer is just a disease would be letting the beast off easy. "A disease is an abnormal condition of an organism that impairs bodily functions and can be deadly. It is also defined as a way of the body harming itself in an abnormal way, associated with specific symptoms and signs."(Wikipedia) This is an understatement when you receive a breast cancer diagnosis.

The illness hits its warriors more than once...first with the discovery of the cancer, and second with realization that you may lose all that makes you feel like a woman. First, it may be your hair and eyebrows due to chemotherapy, and then for some, surgery, to either remove your breasts and/or your ovaries. In essence doctors cure the disease by eliminating the presence of estrogen in one's body and cutting (no pun intended) to the core of the things that we women use to define our sexuality and self.

While, I personally was not dealt all of these blows, I have friends who have faced each and every one of them. Beautiful, brave women who have fought and suffered. No matter how may blows we endured, we all stood strong as our health and mortality were challenged along with our womanhood; the disease still has the ability to harm us in more than a physical way.

In my case, I think about my body in a whole different way since my view of the world from my stretcher and hospital bed. Initially, I had anger that my body, which I felt I took such good care of, failed me in the worst way. I also wondered what was going through the mind of my young Oncologist whose wife was just a couple of years younger than me.

Almost 3 years later, I am thankful for a good run outside or a killer spinning class that pushes my body to its limits and leaves me a sweaty mess. But what I am most grateful for is that same red lipstick that I wore before, during and after breast cancer treatment is still worn proudly to symbolize all the disease tried to take from me, but ultimately could not.