A recipe for living with cancer.

Posts tagged ‘laughter’

It takes so little to bring us down.

I went to the dentist this morning.  I have a tiny wire bonded to and behind my bottom front teeth to keep them in place.  This is a braided wire about the thickness of a piece of dental floss that over time, eating, brushing and munching frays and breaks and needs repair.  I was in need of some repair a couple months ago and missed my appointment for a fix and then procrastinated in making another appointment.  The wire continued to deteriorate and I found the offending wire carving a sore on my tongue.  I couldn’t swallow, eat, talk, drink or sleep without severe pain and only gained relief using that magical dental wax – GUM-not the chewing, the brand.   Most of us have had canker sores and can understand how a small disturbance in our mouth can make life miserable.

 

I didn’t realize the extent to which this had affected my daily demeanor until the moment it was fixed.  The procedure took 30 minutes to remove and replace the old with the new wire and in the process the wire egregiously poked my tongue one more time and made me bleed.  When done, with all the equipment, hands and cotton gobs removed from my mouth, the dentist said, “how does that feel?”  I closed my mouth, licked my lips and spontaneously let out a huge sigh of relief, my shoulders fell, my arms relaxed, my jaw slackened.  The doc and nurse laughed, “enough said!!” and I realized it takes so little to bring us down.

 

This wire with the tip the size of a pinpoint had consumed every waking moment without my recognition of the extent of the discomfort/fear. The wax did a fine job of covering the sharpie but I was always concerned about the wax coming off and the pain to follow.

 

On the way home from the dentist I felt so relieved and relaxed and then I started to think about my breast cancer.  Started by a microscopic cell with a mutation that kept it growing, it didn’t cause any physical pain or discomfort, but upon its discovery brought me down.

 

I haven’t written in this blog in a while, I’ve been busy and treatment free.  Yes I’ve had my tri-weekly infusion of herceptin, but that’s a piece of cake, 30 minutes and done.  I’ve been miserable with my skin expanders, but no one needs to hear more about that issue.  I have been exercising; back to eating vegan and traveling, lucky me.  I stopped taking my Arimedex because it was giving me horrific tooth pain and have yet to take another drug (procrastination is one of my big faults), which I will have to deal with sooner rather than later.  Reconstruction surgery is slated for October –which is scary and giving me nightmares– but is the end game of this process.  Do I no longer have anything to say…hardly, but not sure it belongs in this blog.  Although come to think of it, laughter and funny stories are what keeps me going so I need to rethink this.

 

Life is tough with cancer, without cancer, because the scary part, it takes so little to bring us down.

 

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Laughter is the BEST

Tomorrow is my last “killer” chemo

And all I chose to do is laugh.

I’ve cried and worried, feared and prayed

While traveling down this path.

 

As this portion comes to a close

And the steps next loom ahead-

I breathe a sigh and “gird my loins”

And leave the fears unsaid.

 

Watch a funny video with me and laugh.  Laughter is by far the best medicine.

 

“I Am 98% Sure It Is Cancer”

I have always rooted for the underdog, books, movies, athletics, horse racing, spelling bees, whatever the venue, I want the underdog to win. It is satisfying, cathartic, renewing and reminds us we all can succeed. Life is full of great stories where people beat the odds– so when I sat in the dark cold room filled with video screens I too hoped to beat the odds. A radiologist, my husband and I, dressed only in one of the gross blue print hospital gowns that flap open, sat starring at the mammogram of my right breast. He pointed to a fuzzy round mass and said, “I am 98% sure it is cancer.” I was the underdog and oh how I wanted to be that 2% and beat the odds.

A lump on my breast brought me to my doctor on May 6, 2012. I’ve found many lumps in my breasts in my 59 years, been called back for extra views on mammograms for something suspicious, had ultrasounds, but they have all been negative. This time there was a sense of urgency I’d never heard or felt with all my previous exams. This time my doctor felt the lump and within 10 seconds told me to get dressed, the sense of urgency in her voice was unmistakable, I no longer beat the odds. When she returned to the room she picked up the phone and called the mammography lab to see if they could take me immediately. This sense of urgency scared me to death. Less than 24 hours later I sat in the dark cold room with my odds so bad no gambler in their right mind would bet on me.

This blog is my journey with breast cancer and my recipe for living with it forever. It is partially a self-indulgent endeavor to get things off my chest (a pun on bilateral mastectomy—I will find laughter wherever I can), a journal on to how to be brave, how to ask for help, how to laugh and how to eat. I am a chef my life is food and food will be a huge part of the posts. I have helped many family and friends over the years work through cancer with food, laughter, listening, love and tears.

We with breast cancer are the underdog and when we hear “I am 98% sure it is cancer”, we need to know the underdog wins this time.

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