Lucky Seven Words of the Day (and a few more)

"Tumors shrank!

NO cancer gene!

Praise God!"

What this DOESN'T mean:  Unfortunately, I am not cancer-free....YET!  That celebration will take place next year after surgery and radiation.  I mean, I can only handle so much good news at a time!

What this DOES mean:  This regime of chemo IS working!!  In fact, all three of my tumors shrank!  (The tumor under my arm shrank an entire centimeter!) 

This also means I do not have the breast cancer genetic mutation.  My oncologists were concerned that I did given my age and the aggressiveness of my cancer.  Women with the genetic mutation have up to an 85% chance of developing breast cancer in their lifetime.  But since I already have that, that's not the scary part.  Women with the mutation also have up to a 40% chance of developing ovarian cancer in their lifetime.  Therefore, if I had the gene, the oncologists would have recommended removing my ovaries...and since I'll already have had enough surgeries by the age of 35, I am ecstatic to take a pass on that one!!

I know Dan and I would have been able to handle whatever news we received yesterday.  And we would have kept on fighting and fighting until we figured out something that worked.  BUT, can I just say...it is sooo much better seeing Dan tear up over great news rather than bad news!!

Although I am personally extremely relieved over this fantastic news, I am more relieved for my family and friends.  After months and months of horrible news, I am so grateful to be able to deliver some great news to my support team!  You guys all deserve it!

Now, since it's 5:00 somewhere, I'm off to happy hour!  Cheers!

Team Sheyanne

Determination has no boundaries.

I've always believed you can do anything you set your mind to.  Whether it's big or small.  Whether you're strong or weak.  Whether you're fearless or afraid.  As long as you are determined, nothing is out of reach.  And on Sunday I proved to myself that this is true even with cancer.   

On Sunday, less than 2 days after chemo, I woke up feeling extremely sore.  My entire body ached and I was mentally and physically exhausted...a typical reaction to the chemo.  However, this was not a typical day.  Today was the 20th annual Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure...5 kilometers...3.1 miles...and a ton of determination!

I was out of breath and exhausted by the time I walked from the parking lot to the start of the race.  Was I asking too much of my body?  Was it too late to graciously bow out?  I knew I had a free pass if I wanted it.  I knew everyone would understand if the girl with the bald head took a seat and watched her team cross the finish line without her.  But then that just wouldn't be me!

When I saw my team waiting for me at the top of the stairs, I was more determined than ever to participate in the race.  Over 50 of my closest friends, family and biggest supporters came out to show their support of me and a cure.  I've said it all along and I'll say it again...it is people like you who give me the strength every day to keep fighting!   

The race was a lot longer than I remember it being.  And while the temptation to take short cuts were presented to me throughout the course (especially by my mom!) I was determined to complete the entire race on my own.  No piggy backs.  No wheel chairs.  No strollers (yes, I did consider kicking some kids out of their strollers several times.)

When I crossed the finish line with my mom and Dan by my side, I felt more empowered than ever!  My determination had paid off and I proved to myself that nothing, including this horrible disease can ever get in the way of whatever I set my mind to.

And while I finished last on my team this year, next year there will be no freebies!  I'll be back to running the race and waiting on my team to cross the finish line!

A Birthday to Remember

Birthdays are for celebrating!  Eating too much (well, that's not actually possible), indulging in forbidden food and spirits, getting pampered and surrounding yourself with family and friends.  But birthdays for me have also meant reflecting on the past year and looking forward to the next...setting goals, making plans and working towards a more purposeful life.  Which is why this birthday was one of the toughest and most special birthdays yet.

I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams that on my 32nd birthday I would have cancer.  I woke up overcome by emotion...grateful for the blessings of the past year, optimistic and hopeful about the year I will become cancer-free, and terrified that this could be my last.

I was angry...and tired.  Tired of feeling sick.  Tired of countless injections.  Tired of having a bald head.  Tired of having to stay home.  Tired of missing work.  Tired of having to be strong.  Tired of having to fight this fight.  Tired of having cancer.

But then I was reminded of the amazing gift that cancer has blessed me with...the overwhelming outpouring of love and support from family, friends and strangers.  All day I was showered with phone calls, emails, visitors, happy birthday serenades, flowers, desserts, and cards.  And as Dan and I left the house for my birthday dinner, I was surprised to see all of my friends and neighbors gathered outside my house with birthday cake, brownies, balloons, flowers, cards....and most importantly, smiles of warmth and friendship. 

Birthdays for me are no longer measured by the age I turn or what I do to celebrate on that one day of the year... rather, they will be measured by the relationships I have created and maintained, and the lives I have touched on the 364 other days of the year.  From what I experienced yesterday, I cannot help but be grateful for where I am at this exact moment in my life.  And though I wished harder for my birthday wish yesterday than I have in years past, I would not have changed a thing about my birthday this year!

Begging Me For Mercy

Let me start by saying this- I was completely devastated when I found out that the first regime of chemo did not work.  BUT let me assure you of one thing...I am absolutely confident that this new regime of chemo is going to work...and as it turns out, I'm not the only one...

As I walked into the hospital last Friday for my second round of the new chemo, all of the fire alarms were going off.  The lights were flashing, the alarms were sounding and the voice over the intercom was instructing everyone to evacuate the building.  On a normal day, I would have been the first one out the door.  But this wasn't a normal day...this was a cancer killing day...and there was no way I was going anywhere unless someone carried me out.  As far as I was concerned, as long as one room on the fourth floor wasn't on fire, I was ready and willing to give myself the treatment.

Despite my mother-in-law's requests, I never did leave the building.  Fortunately for me, it turned out to be just a test.  But I am convinced it was more than just that...it was as if my cancer cells knew what was coming and were trying everything they could to avoid the inevitable. 

But that's exactly what my cancer cells will have to face every Friday for the next 10 weeks.  I'm not going to lie...getting 3-4 hours of chemo every single week is tough to say the least.  But the bright side??  Great medication and dead cancer cells!

So here's to the next 10 rounds of chemo!  

Curve Ball #s 37-41

It's never a good thing when your doctor calls after hours.  He's not calling to check on the score of the game or what you're having for dinner.  Nope.  He's calling to deliver some bad news...or in my case, some more bad news.

On Monday, the night before my scheduled Round 4 chemo treatment, my oncologist called...my blood cell levels were once again really low.  But believe it or not, that wasn't the bad news.  Instead, for the first time, my oncologist seemed concerned that the chemo was not working as well as it should be. 

So, on Tuesday morning, after a sleepless night, I met with my oncologist.  When he performed the physical examination, he was convinced that the tumors had gotten smaller.  Phew!  What a relief.  But the relief wouldn't last long.  Twenty minutes later, the ultrasound proved differently.  It seemed my worst fear had come true....the tumors were the same size (maybe even a little bigger)...the chemo did not work.

As I sat in a state of shear panic, I tried to listen to and evaluate my options.  There seemed to be only two-either continue with the next/different round of chemo or go straight to surgery.  My oncologist seemed torn between the two options so he scheduled me an appointment with my surgeon that afternoon.

When the surgeon walked into the room, he acknowledged that I was having a horrible day.  And I was relieved to think he actually understood how I was feeling and that maybe some kid gloves were in order.  Not so much!  Because the next thing that came out of his mouth was, "I'm going to be honest with you, this is not good, this is not good at all!" 

Ummmm...no shit!  You mean, the months of nausea, vomiting, headaches, mouth sores, body aches, at-home injections, fevers and constipation, had a purpose other than pure enjoyment?!?!?  Talk about stating the obvious!

I only heard parts of the remainder of the surgeon's "death speech."  "The new chemo may not work...the surgery is going to be complicated....you can't have implants...they're going to radiate the hell out of you....blah...blah...blah...blah...blah!"  And then, he did what surgeons do best...he scheduled my surgery, rattled off some more instructions and sent me on my way.

When I left the surgeon's office, I did what I had promised myself I would never again since the first time I was diagnosed....I allowed myself to think I was actually going to die.  I felt terrified.  I felt defeated.  I felt hopeless.

And just when I thought it could not get any worse, it did.  My husband completely broke down right in front of me.  I knew he was scared...how could he not be after listening to the grim reaper.  But the worst part was when he said that his job as my husband was to always protect me and keep me safe, but that he felt completely helpless through this all. 

And just like that, the old Sheyanne was back.  I know I've said this before (like when the cancer messed with my food, then my hair and then my implants), but I mean it now more than ever....I AM PISSED!  Through every challenge, every trial and every disappointment I have faced over the last three months, I have always maintained my sense of optimism, my sense of humor and my faith that I will beat this.  There is no way I'm going to let one surgeon (who doesn't know me or my strength) take that all away from me.  Besides, since when have I ever taken the easy way out?  I have always loved a good battle, so why would this be any different?

Soo, like Dan and I have always done we planned our next game move.  We met with an outside oncologist (whom we both love) and together we decided to proceed with the next new/different round of chemo.  Our oncologist, Dan and I are very confident that this will work to melt away the cancer.  And after it does, we will then proceed with the surgery. 

Yesterday was day 1 of really kicking this cancer's a$$!  I had my first round of new chemo, but like always, it came with a price.  I actually got sick, many times over, at the cocktail lounge!  BUT, I feel much better today, both physically and mentally.  I am extremely optimistic that this will work...there is simply no other option.

Besides, college football starts today, Colt's football starts next week....it's the perfect time of year to start tackling both on and off the field!