BEST. DAY. OF. MY. LIFE.

Two days later and I am still glowing!

I always knew I had the most amazing husband, mom, sister and brothers...but on Saturday, they took it to another level.  A level I could not have dreamed up even in my wildest imagination...and to have kept it a secret from me for over a month...well played guys, well played!

So what did I like most about my surprise birthday/I kicked cancer's a$$ party?...here are just a few highlights:

*  Gourmet sliders truck with tater tots...WHAT?!?  Everyone knows the way to my heart starts with great food...and I just don't think it could have gotten any better than that!

*  Shots...shots....shots...shots...shots....e-v-e-r-y-b-o-d-y!!!!  Because alcohol makes everyone dance a little better and sing a little louder!

*  The sea of pink barricading the street as we pulled up to the house.  But as much as I LOVED seeing everyone in head-to-toe pink, a little part of me was hoping someone, anyone had forgotten...the visual of Jennifer slapping someone until they turned pink seemed just too good to miss!

*  The absolutely gorgeous and MOST DELICIOUS cake!  You can never go wrong when peanut butter and chocolate are involved!

*  The fabulous decorations...from the handmade survivor banner to the streamers to the balloons to the flowers to the bling to the pink ribbon cupcakes and brownies.  They thought of every last detail...I mean, a balloon guy and face painting?!?!

*  The wishes for me...although, I have to say, all of my wishes had already come true that day!

*  The TWO-PART PARTY....with our own private bar, more food and dancing!  Ok, so maybe you technically couldn't call it dancing...but in my mind, I was the winner of So You Think You Can Dance!

*  The absolutely incredible music by my dear friend, Ryan.  His music has always touched me, but never like it did the last year and a half.  Oh, and I publicly apologize for murdering the song I invited myself to sing with you!  (Apparently, I'll just stick to dancing! ;)

*  Oh, and I almost forgot... MY BRAND NEW LEXUS IS 350...fully equipped with one of those obnoxious pink bows!!!  And yes, I have officially become that driver who parks their car so far away from wherever I'm going, I no longer have to jog the beach trail to get my exercise!

But the ABSOLUTE BEST PART of the party... sharing it with all of my family and friends!  Never have I felt more blessed.  Never have I had this much love and happiness in my heart.  Never have I felt more alive.

So thank you.  Thank you for your support.  Thank you for your love.

THANK YOU FOR SAVING MY LIFE!!

How Can Something So Good For You, Feel So Bad?

I did it.  Tonight was the first night I started Tamoxifen.  You know, the drug I have to take every day for the next FIVE YEARS.  The drug that helps prevent against the recurrence of my breast cancer.  The drug that means no children for at least five more years.  

The logical side of me knows that I'm lucky....lucky to have yet another weapon in my fight against cancer.  But the emotional side of me couldn't swallow the pill without shedding tears...tears that continue to flow even as I type this.  It's one thing to say you have to put your dream on hold.  It's another thing to physically force yourself to put your dreams on hold.  

At a time when I'm just beginning to feel like my life is coming back to normal, this is just yet another reminder of how much further I have to go in my fight.  A daily reminder of my battle.  A daily reminder to live life to it's fullest.  A daily reminder that I'm still alive.   

So Now What?

It's the weirdest thing.  I waited 14 months for this....to finish chemo...to finish radiation...to finish treatment (only 2 more Herceptin treatments left!).  I used to dream about this day...how excited I would be...the celebrations that would come...the life that would be restored to my family and I.  I remember bartering with God, "If I just make it through chemo, I will never take another day for granted..."   And when I did, it was "If I just make it through surgery, I will..."  And when that happened, it was "If I just make it through radiation, I will be the happiest person on this earth!"

But when the time actually came, I found myself to be anything but happy.  I was sad...angry...disappointed...scared....depressed.  

What?!?  Where was this coming from?  What happened to the excitement?  What happened to the celebrations?  What happened to the picture-perfect ending that I had envisioned just a couple of months ago?  

And the longer these feelings lasted, the more frustrated and depressed I became.  While everyone around me was excited and congratulating me, I couldn't understand why it felt like I was dying inside.  Like I lost a piece of myself.  And then it hit me...

Every...Single...Day...for the past 14 months I have been in a vicious battle to save my life.  EVERY.  SINGLE. DAY.  There was no time to stop and think about what I was going through.  No time to process the diagnosis.  No time to reflect on the severity of the situation.  And certainly no time to grieve...the loss of my old body...the lost sense of security...the loss of my life before cancer.

There will never be another "routine" doctor's appointment for me.  Never another "common" cold.  Never just a "normal" body ache.  I believe things will get easier as time passes and the longer I remain cancer free.  But for now, not a single day goes by that I am not haunted by the thought of cancer coming back.  

Every...Single...Day...is a battle.  A physical, emotional, mental and spiritual battle.  A battle I know I have beat and will continue to beat!!

All "Good" Things....

After six and a half weeks...five days a week...and one hell of a rectangular tan (ok, so it's more like a burn...a really BAD burn!)...Sheyanne's extreme tanning days are over! That's right~ TODAY IS MY LAST DAY OF RADIATION!!!

For those of you that have said or are thinking, "wow..that went by fast!"....ummm, where have you been the last 6 1/2 weeks at 11:00?!?! Actually, it has gone by as fast as I could have expected. Maybe that's because I slept through most of it. I mean, I haven't rocked 2-3 hour naps a day since Kindergarten! Seriously, if anyone has trouble sleeping at night, a little dose of radiation will definitely do the trick!

Needless to say, I am exhausted, my skin feels like I have chicken pox on top of a bad sunburn, and I'm fighting a bad respiratory infection (you didn't think I would make things easy on myself, did you?!?!) But you should see the other guy...actually, you can't because you know all of the cancer is gone!!!

And just to put to rest some of those questions I know you all are thinking...

*Yes, I now officially glow in the dark.

*Yes, I am and always will be radioactive! I can release radiation on anyone at any time...consider yourself warned!

*Yes, I BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF CANCER!!!

Happy Cancerversary!!!

One year ago last Friday, I received the most devastating news.

...we're...sorry...Sheyanne...tumors...cancer...aggressive...chemo.

I remember like it was yesterday. The feeling of absolute terror....sheer panic...complete desperation. I saw it in my husband's eyes. I felt it in my soul. I knew that cancer takes no prisoners. But I also knew that at 31, I did not want to die.

Nothing could have prepared me for what my family, friends and I would go through over the next year. And the first few weeks proved to be completely overwhelming. Biopsies...chemo...IVs...inundation of cancer treatment information....and the constant fear of death.

And it never got any easier. It seemed like the harder I fought, the tougher the battle became. Bigger tumors...jackass surgeon...more chemo...Debbie Downers. I was convinced that if the cancer wouldn't kill me, the treatment alone would.

But here we are...one year later...and it hasn't....and most importantly, it WON'T!

God knows I have had my share of good cries and sleepless nights over the past year. And my body (both internally and externally) feels like it has aged over 15 years. But you know what, so has my heart.

Nobody ever says they are grateful to be going through cancer (and if they do, I call BS!). But here's what I have been grateful for throughout this journey:

The unconditional love and support of my husband (my hero!). The tighter bonds of family. The deeper and more meaningful friendships. The selflessness and generosity of complete strangers. The unity and kindness of neighbors. The amazing doctors and medicine. The purposeful life I now live. The complete and everlasting faith I continue to have.

Blessed to have cancer? No.

Blessed to have my faith and support team while beating cancer? Absolutely!

So while some people may think it's strange to be celebrating a "cancerversary"...I'm all in! Because to me, it means another year of strength, courage and kicking this cancer's booty! (Oh, and free dessert definitely doesn't hurt either!!)

Survivor??? Absolutely!!!

Today is National Cancer Survivors Day... an annual, worldwide Celebration of Life to show the world that life after a cancer diagnosis can be meaningful and productive.

My initial reaction?  This doesn't pertain to me.  I'm not a "survivor."  I haven't even finished treatment yet...and I know I still have a long road ahead of me.  And "productive?"  No way, right?  I mean, society defines "productivity" by the jobs we have and the amount of money we make...and since I physically haven't been able to work since my diagnosis, I haven't been "productive."  

But then I really thought about what it means to be a survivor.  To me, it means being confronted with a challenge great enough to break most, but coming out stronger in the end.  Being scared to death on the inside, but showing nothing but grace on the outside.  Continuing to get up each and every time you are knocked down...no matter how badly you want to give up.  Remaining true to yourself and your faith, despite having every reason to question both. 

So, am I a survivor?!?  Abso-freaking-lutely!! 

I survived the devastating diagnosis.  I survived nine months of chemo.  I survived failed treatments.  I survived heartbreaking news.  I survived three surgeries.  I survived two weeks of radiation.  I will survive four more weeks of radiation.  And I WILL survive cancer! 

I am stronger.  I am a fighter.  I have been true to myself.  I have been true to my faith. 

I am a SURVIVOR!

Mosquito Bites My A$$

So Friday, May 11th was the big day.  And let me just start by saying this.  Anytime they make you go down into the basement, you should know they mean serious business.  And as I rode the elevator down underground, I couldn't help but realize the severity of what I was about to get myself into.  I mean, all our life we are taught about the dangers of radiation.  We see the big, yellow hazard signs and are warned to stay away.  We are even forced to wear protective vests when x-rays are taken at the dentist.  But now, here I was, "voluntarily" subjecting myself to this extremely dangerous activity.  And not just for a one-time deal...we're talking 33 times...the maximum amount of radiation one can subject themselves to over their lifetime.

Once again, I'm taking my over-achieving skills to new heights!

After I changed into my new favorite outfit (aka, my super sexy moo moo), I headed back to the treatment room for films and tattoos.  And as I laid down onto the hardest board possible, it was as if I had been transported into a scene from Star Wars.  The machines....computers....intercoms....flashing green lights.  And then the machines started.  Holy smokes!  What the heck is going on here?  I couldn't help but feel like a Geometry word problem.  "If Sheyanne has one tumor located at coordinates X 2.7 and Y 3.2, and another tumor located at X 2.1 and Y 2.9, where do you have to position the machines to ensure the maximum effect of radiation while minimizing the harmful effects to the surrounding cells?"  The answer?  Who cares?  Let's just get this show on the road...I had a lot of coffee this morning, and the caffeine shakes are making it next to impossible to hold still for this long!

After what seemed like forever (ok, so it was only 25 minutes....but you try lying still on a hard board, with your body in a position only Gumby would like, half-naked, with two men drawing on you like you were a Dora the Explorer activity book), it was time for the much-anticipated tattoos.  Piece of cake, right?

Me:  Just out of curiosity, are these going to hurt?
Tech:  Nah, they just feel like mosquito bites.

WHAT THE?!?!  What kind of mosquitos do they have where you come from?  Ones carrying daggers?  I swear, the one on my breast bone felt like he actually hit bone!

At the end of the day, I left that place a different woman...and by that, I mean a woman with four, blue dots surrounding her right breast.

You Have to Crawl Before You Can Walk

So, I didn't get my permanent tattoos last Friday as planned. Apparently there is a process to this whole thing. You can't just go from "never had a tattoo" to "multiple permanent tattoos" overnight. You have to ease your way into it.

So instead, I got three "temporary" tattoos on Friday. Three blue crosses with stickers on top. If you ask me, I kind of like them. In fact, it got me thinking. Why just stop at four blue dots? It's always been my motto...go big or go home. And I've come way too far to go home at this point. So I've done some research and have a few suggestions for my radiologist. Why not just convert those blue dots into four-leaf clovers. Or crosses. Or Chinese characters. Shoot, depending on their placement, I may just have him connect them all into a horseshoe. (OF COURSE I'm still a Colt's fan!!)

Whatever I ultimately decide, I should be getting them tomorrow. I got the green light from my surgeon this afternoon, so if all goes well tomorrow, I will be starting radiation on Monday. Whoop Whoop!!

Which reminds me:

Why is it that when you're instructed to remain absolutely still, you suddenly get the feeling that someone is tickling you with a feather all over your body?

And how come the minute someone tells you to breath normally, you automatically start taking deep breaths while trying to remember what it means to breath "normally"?

Ahhhh....it's going to be a long 6 1/2 weeks!

I'm Getting Inked!

Never say never! I've always said that I would never get a tattoo. Never. But IF I did, it would be a small, four-leaf clover in honor of my Irish heritage.

Wrong and wrong!

This Friday I am getting my very first tattoo....well, first through fourth. And no, I'm not talking about "four" as in a four-leaf clover. I'm talking about four, small blue dots. On my right breast and under my arm. Why?, you ask. Because apparently the scars alone aren't festive enough....we need to add a little color up in here!

Ok, in all seriousness, I really am getting tattoos on Friday. Who knew breast cancer treatment would include tattoos? Apparently they are necessary to mark the precise locations where I am going to be radiated. And as the radiologist was explaining this to me, he actually asked me if it was OK. My first thought was, are you asking me as if I have a choice? My second thought was, dude, do you not see the eight+ gnarly scars I already have?? I'm pretty sure a few tattoos aren't going to make or break my appearance.

Oh, and don't think for a second that I am at all nervous about getting my tattoos, or radiation for that matter. In fact, any concerns I had were put to ease when I talked to two super-optimistic survivors this past weekend at a charity event for the American Cancer Society. Yep, twenty minutes of non-stop "radiation is the absolute WORST part about treatment." Ladies! Ladies! I expect this kind of Debbie-Downer crap from non-cancer patients-NOT survivors! I mean, what do you expect me to do with that kind of information? I'm sorry radiologist, but I'm going to have to pass on the radiation...apparently it does not come very highly recommended from cancer patients. I mean, really?!?

But honestly, I'm totally ready for radiation. Because it means I'm one step closer to putting this all behind me. And besides, I've already been through 9 grueling months of chemotherapy and 3 painful surgeries, so what's a little sunburn in the grand scheme of things, right?!?! (Please do NOT let me have to eat my words!)

It's Official!!

I know I've said this before, but this time I got it in writing from my oncologist!  So mark your calendars because Tuesday, March 27th is my VERY LAST CHEMO TREATMENT....EVER!!!  (Well, I guess I shouldn't say, "ever" because I don't want to jinx it.  On second thought, ever since the Colts released Manning-and practically the rest of my beloved team-I don't believe in jinxes...only poor decisions and bad luck!  So YES, next Tuesday WILL be my LAST chemo treatment EVER!!)

Holy sh*t!!!  Did you just hear me!?!? MY LAST CHEMO TREATMENT!!  Sorry for being so crass, but I have worked my a$$ off over the last nine months to get here....well, actually it was more like my hair and boobs, but you know what I mean.

When I started this journey in June, it was impossible for me to imagine what it would feel like to make it through chemotherapy.  It seemed as though every time I turned around I was facing a new obstacle, and the finish line kept getting further and further away.  Although I never lost sight of my goal, there were definitely days where I wondered when and if the destruction of chemotherapy would ever come to an end.

Well now it finally has!!  And the excitement and joy I'm feeling right now is indescribable.  Finishing chemotherapy is by far the greatest accomplishment of my life!  It's better than any test I've ever Aced...any case I've ever won...any dream I've ever made a reality. 

But, I have to be honest.  There is also a small sense of fear and apprehension.  You see, while I was on chemo, there was no way the cancer could come back...or at least that's what I'd convinced myself to believe.  And now, without chemo, it's like I'm putting my guard down...like I'm taking away the safety net.  And when I asked my oncologist about our plan for making sure I remain cancer-free, her response was anything but comforting.  Sure, we'll do yearly MRIs of my breasts and blood tests, but neither of these things can ensure that the cancer has not spread to other areas of my body.  Bottom line-there is no guarantee that the cancer won't come back.

But, if there is anything I have learned throughout this journey, it's that we have to live in the moment.  We cannot live in fear.  We cannot be consumed by the "what ifs".  We cannot take a single day for granted.

I know that when this is all over, I will have done everything in my power to beat this.  Absolutely no regrets.  And I take comfort in the fact that the rest is in His power! 

March Madness!

I love college basketball!  Slightly less than football.  Slightly more than baseball.  And what's better than college basketball in the month of March?  Well, I must admit...March Madness always kind of pissed me off a bit.  I mean, who actually gets to stay home during the middle of the week and do nothing but lay around and watch the Madness? 

ME!!!  That's who this year!  Or at least that's what I thought.  But as the month of March rolled around this year, there was more than enough Madness in my life before the Tourney even began! 

I finished my 100th round of chemo on February 28th (ok, so it's actually only my second round of this new chemo...but I swear it feels like I've been doing this for 20 years!)  And as with every round of chemo I have completed, I got a week off in between rounds.  No chemo.  No doctor's appointments.  No blood tests.  Yep, that's right!  Just me, seven injections of Neupogen, headaches, body aches, abdominal pain and countless sleepless nights!  And so the Madness began...

But apparently the cancer alone wasn't enough Madness this year.  Instead, my brother was admitted to the hospital for three days for pneumonia and pleuritis.  Less than a week later, my husband spent four nights in the hospital.  And as if that wasn't enough, my family went through a couple of other extremely difficult situations that are simply too painful for me to even write about.  (Fortunately, both my husband and brother are home now and starting to do much better!)

The mental, emotional and physical exhaustion I suffered these past couple of weeks are more than I imagined I would experience in a lifetime.  Anger, fear, frustration and disappointment replaced my usual feelings of happiness, hope, optimism and strength.  And if ever there was a time for one's faith to be tested, this was definitely it!  I couldn't understand why a family that had already suffered enough, would be subjected to any more pain and hardship.  And although I may never know why this has happened to my family and I, I do know that this is our journey.  We are stronger because of it...we are closer because of it...and together, we can get through anything!
 

A Gun Shot Wound and View From Rock Bottom

"What's so funny?" 

Those were the first words I heard from my surgeon when I woke up from my port surgery.  Apparently I was laughing when I came out of anesthesia.  I'm not sure why because there was nothing funny about it.  A freezing, cold room, bright lights, hard gurney, ridiculous gown, and five different people in my face asking me how I was feeling. 

For anyone who has ever been under anesthesia, you know what I'm talking about it.  It's a lot to take in when it feels like you just finished your eighth losing game of beer pong, and the only thoughts that come to mind are, "Who are you?  Where did Brad Pitt go? And why did you shoot me in the chest?!?"

When the anesthesia finally wore off and I realized I was no longer at a fraternity party, they assured me that the surgery went well.  But the next several days seemed to prove otherwise. 

The pain was excruciating.  Since my surgeon was able to tuck the actual port into my axillary, the tube (which carries the chemo to my veins) stretches from my armpit to the main vein in my chest.  What does this mean other than gnarly bruising, multiple scars and raised skin (from where you can see the tube and port)?  Every single time I moved any portion of my upper left body, it felt like someone was shooting me in the chest.  And the worst part?!?  Every type of pain medication I tried made me sick so I was forced to suffer the pain without any. 

But as I have learned the hard way, cancer does not take a day off, so neither could I.  Less than 14 hours after my surgery, I was back at happy hour getting my first dose of the new chemotherapy.  And just getting to the bar alone was a battle.  Between the stabbing pains triggered by every tiny bump we hit, to the vomiting from the pain medication (before I finally gave it it all up), nothing about that day was happy.

But not even that week of extreme pain, nausea, vomiting and insomnia (all exacerbated by the fact that I had three days of appointments to go to) could bring me to rock bottom.  Nope, that day would come exactly one week after my surgery...

The first day I went to have my blood drawn directly from my port.  You know the whole reason I got the port in the first place...to make things easier to draw blood and get chemo since all my veins are filled with scar tissue.  But after 45 minutes, of two different nurses repeatedly poking me under my arm (which was still extremely sore from the surgery), all while I tried my best to put on a brave front for my mom who seemed to be doing everything she could to hold back tears, they ended up having to draw the blood from my hand.  The port didn't work...or so I thought. 

As we left the hospital, I was overcome with emotion.  I was in so much pain.  I was scared.  And I was pissed.  I had done every single thing my doctors told me to do.  I endured six months of chemo, two surgeries, physical therapy, all while never losing the smile from my face.  But yet, somehow, that still wasn't enough. 

The cancer had made almost every decision for me for the last seven months.  But now it was my turn to make one.  I vowed that if my port didn't work or if my chemo nurses couldn't access it on the first try the next day for chemo, I wasn't going to go through with the rest of my chemo.  Enough was enough and I simply was not going to endure anymore pain. 

Fortunately for me, my chemo nurse had absolutely no trouble accessing my port.  And as of this week, I finished my first of three rounds of chemo (each round is three weeks).  Let's hope there really are only two more rounds left this time!

You know, I've seen a lot of different things with sayings of all of the things cancer can't do...like, it can't cripple love and it can't shatter hope.  But let me tell you what it can do.  It can cause you to look inside of yourself and see what you're really made of.  I'm not proud of how I was ready to give up that day.  But I am proud of how I bounced back and continue to fight like hell each and every single day.   

If You're Going to Puncture Anything...

More chemo + Collapsed Veins = Port

After six months of chemo, my veins finally threw in the towel. No amount of pep talks was going to convince them to take weekly chemo treatments for three more months. So today's the day. The much dreaded surgery to get a port implanted. And of course I'm too thin to get it in my arm, so I have to get it put in my chest. Sexy, right!?!? I swear, after this, I will seriously be the bionic woman!

And as with all surgeries, there are risks involved. I not only had to read about them in the consent forms I was signing, but I also had to hear about them from my surgeon. (Thank you, lawyers!) But you know what I could have gone without? Having someone tell me that when his grandma got her port implanted, the surgeon punctured her lung. "It was worse than having to get the chemo!" Ummm, seriously?!? Listen guys, just because that specific example was not listed on my top ten list, doesn't mean you should throw it out there and wait to see if it will make it!

But at the end of the day, that comment was actually quite helpful. Because when I met with my surgeon and shared the story with her, I was very clear in my instructions: "Dr. Curcio, if you're going to puncture anything, puncture the implant. And make sure you puncture both of them so there's no issue with insurance when I go in for the bigger implants!"

In all seriousness, I'm not nervous today. But I'll tell you what I am....STARVING!!!! I mean, 4:00 p.m. surgery time!?!?  Really?!?

When We Make Plans, God Laughs

2012!  A new year.  New hopes.  New expectations.  A new life without cancer.  A new life without chemo!

Until I met with my oncologist.  Apparently, although they only found cancer in 2 of the 17 lymph nodes they removed, there was more cancer in there than there should have been after 6 months of chemo.  And just like that, I was back on the roller coaster of cancer that I had just convinced myself I had already gotten off.

But what came next was almost too much to hear:  Three more months of chemo.

THREE. MORE. MONTHS. OF. CHEMO.

Three more months of nausea, vomiting, mouth sores, body aches, fatigue, special diets, low blood counts, injections and blood tests.  And because my veins are too weak to take weekly injections, I have to have surgery to get a port implanted in my chest.

My initial reaction was to give up.  No more chemo.  I would take my chances without additional chemo.  But then the emails and text messages and voicemails from friends and family came pouring in.  All urging me to continue to fight.  And then I got the best advice from my brother.  He told me to go back and read all of my previous blog posts, because it was in those posts where I could find the real me.  The woman who always fights.  The woman who makes others laugh in the face of adversity.  And most importantly, the woman who never, never gives up.

This is definitely not how I planned my 2012 to start off.  But it's true what they say, when we make plans, God laughs.  However, one plan I know God won't laugh at is me fighting for my life!