2 Years

Well I have made it two years.  I was diagnosed on May 7th 2008.  When I tell people that it was two years ago that I was diagnosed, most people ask me how I feel about it.  I feel great about it.  I know that there are people who have depression after a diagnosis, but I'm not one of them.  On May 7th 2009 I felt good about making it a year, but still didn't really feel like myself.  This year I feel like myself.  My energy is back, I am not waiting on surgeries, recovering from surgeries or recuperating from treatment.  My hair is back and I feel healthier than ever.

I wish I could say that I feel like it is all behind me, but that isn't really true.  Cancer is still in my thoughts every single day.  It just doesn't really go away.  I am concerned every time I have an ache or a pain or something that is out of the ordinary. 

I still struggle with what my lessons are supposed to be.  I continue to think that I got cancer for a reason, but I don't yet know what it is.  I learned a lot about myself and about my friends and family but my life isn't drastically different than it was before.  I didn't pack up the family and move into a log cabin or chuck all of my professional experience and become a film director. 

I read recently that most people say that the age when they "found" themselves was 45.  I turned 45 in March so I have high hopes for this year.  I thought my lessons would show up with fireworks and lightning, but that hasn't been the case.  I think this will be my year.  I am happy to be 2 years out.  I am proud of the accomplishment and hopeful for the future.

Graduation Day

Last week I had an appointment with my oncologist.  I am blessed to have chosen an oncologist that I am very comfortable with and trust completely.  Its a good thing too since I have spent a whole lot of time with her over the last 2 years. 

When I first began my cancer journey, I saw her at least once every 3 weeks.  I would see her on chemo day and generally a week after chemo to check my white blood cells.  I am now on a first name basis with my doctor, her nurses, the receptionist and the nice people who take my blood every time I go in. 

After I finished treatment, I started seeing her every 3 months and have been doing so for the last year and a half.  Last week when I finished my appointment and went to make the next one, they told me they would see me in 6 months.  I had to ask to make sure that I had heard right.  Yep-6 months. 

To put that in perspective, consider the other appointments I have during the year.  2 infusions of Zometa, 1 bone Scan, 2 Mammograms, 1 MRI, 4 trips for bloodwork, 1 Ob-gyn appointment and those are all if I am healthy.  If I happen to get sick then I have to see my regular doctor.  So 2 fewer trips a year may not seem like a big deal but it is.

I love graduation day!

Birthdays and Early Departures

Today is my dad's birthday.  He would have been 69 years old.  He died of pancreatic cancer when he was 48 years old.  Too young.  My husband is now 49 years old and is in the prime of his life.  He is healthy, active, happy and thriving.  I can't imagine him not being here.

My dad's death was the first in my life and the time when I realized that people are often taken too soon.  I'm not sure what the right number of years to be on earth should be, but I think it should be more than 48.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, my doctor showed me the 10 year survival rates for someone with my diagnosis.  If I survive 10 years, I will be 53.  This didn't really make me feel a whole lot better.  53 seems too young also.  How about 83 or 93 or 103?  How about I get to actually live a good, long, healthy, happy life?  I just celebrated my 45th birthday-one which I am extremely grateful for. 

Now, 21 years after my dad's death, it seems like most of the deaths that I have had to bear have been for people that were way too young.  So for those people, here's wishing you would have had more birthdays to celebrate.

Dad-48 years old
Marty-41 years old
Diane-46 years old
Dean-30 years old
Baby Lauren-6 hours
Baby Sierra Willow-0 hours

Panic, unbidden

Clearly, based on the fact that I have not posted in over a month, I have started moving on with my regularly scheduled life.  I have been feeling pretty good.  My energy is great, my health is good, my hair is back.  Things are back to "normal".

That is exactly how I was feeling yesterday when I was waiting in the doctors office for my mammogram.  Mammograms and MRI's are just part of my life now and this is the one that was scheduled 18 months after I finished all of my treatment.  I flipped through magazines, checked my phone, thought about  my lunch date afterwards.  I was not worried at all.  After all, I just had an MRI in January and everything looked good.

I went in and was squished and squashed and then sent back to the waiting room so that I could review the films with the doctor.  I waited and waited and waited.  As all the other women in the waiting room went in and out I started to feel just the slightest bit of apprehension.  Finally when no one else was left in the waiting room, the technician came in and said the doctor would like me to do more films. 

I burst into tears.  I had no idea how close to the surface that fear was.  I really thought that I was feeling OK with my health and that I had put a damper on that constant fear of a recurrence, but obviously I had not.  We went back to do more films and I cried through the whole thing.  Then I went back to the waiting room to hear my fate.

The tech again came in to get me and said that the doctor would like to do an ultrasound.  Before I could stop it a four letter word came out of my mouth and then once again-burst into tears.  I just started feeling normal.  I don't want to deal with cancer again.  I don't want abnormal mammograms or ultrasounds.  I just want to be healthy.

The doctor actually did the ultrasound and was very, very thorough.  The first thing she said to me was "don't panic".  Too late!  Panic was the only thing that I had to hold on to and unfortunately it had an iron grip.  I cried through the entire ultrasound.  At long last she showed me what she was looking at, a small spot in my left breast just above and behind the surgery markers that were left there from my lumpectomy.  She does NOT think it is cancer.  She thinks it is fat necrosis (the death of fat cells basically) from a place that wasn't getting enough blood supply from my last surgery.  I have never in my life thought that I would be happy to hear anything about my body regarding fat.  "Fat?"  Yes, she explained, it is just a piece of tissue that isn't getting enough blood supply so it is dying.  Fat turns into a solid and eventually will turn into an oil just like any other fat and be absorbed by my body. 

They will keep an eye on it, but she said if she had ANY inclination that it was cancer, she would be doing a biopsy immediately.  While I hated every single second of that appointment, I am glad that they are thorough.  I don't want any surprises.  I am also glad that the doctor was so patient in explaining everything to me. 

I left the clinic a weepy, shaking, relieved mess and sped off to my lunch date for which I was now late.  Credit given to my good friend Annie who immediately declared I needed a margarita given the morning I had just had.  She bought me a drink at lunch (something I NEVER do) and a nice lunch and we got to have our nice, "normal" lunch-without panic..   

"I was diagnosed...."

A year and 10 months after being diagnosed, I have met many, many women who have said these words to me.  "I was diagnosed......"  It becomes part of a normal conversation complete with treatment, surgeries, prognosis, and more medical terms than I ever wanted to know.

It is a difficult thing as an adult to say these words and understand what they mean.  The radio station I listen to is currently doing a radiothon to benefit Children's Hospital here in Seattle.  Children's Hospital is a shining star in health care.  They take care of children who need it regardless of economic ability.  I have been listening all day and the thing that continues to bring me to tears is the interviews.  I keep hearing children as young as 3 saying those words..."I was diagnosed....".  They shouldn't even know what the word means.

Not all of the kids at Children's Hospital are dealing with cancer, but many are.  Cancer is a miserable, terrible, cruel disease and the treatment for cancer is miserable as well.  These kids who are going through chemo or radiation or stem-cell transplants are braver than brave and they don't deserve to be turned away because their families can't afford the treatment.  I hope you will join me in supporting Children's Hospital. If you are a survivor who reads this blog, I want you to remember the first time you had to say those words..."I was diagnosed".  If you are a parent who reads it, think about how your heart would hurt if you heard your children say those words.

You can Donate here

A Question of DNA

The girls are on their Mid-Winter break and we took the opportunity to find some sunshine.  My parents have a condo in Palm Desert, California and they graciously allowed us to use it for the week.  They have owned the condo for about 5 years, but this is the first time that the timing has worked out for us to use it. 

It is, of course, beautiful.  It doesn't surprise me at all that the condo is done to perfection and looks like it came straight out of a showroom.  My mother has always had beautiful taste and an eye for decorating.  She also takes great pride in having her home meticulously neat and tidy.  I am in awe of the work that she has done and the comfortable way it feels.

My mother, my sister, my grandmother and my aunt all have these same characteristics.  They all have beautiful homes and have a knack for things.  I don't have it.  I would like to think I do, but the fact is I really don't.  I know what I like and what I don't like as far as decorating, but I don't have the first clue of how to put it all together.  "Things" start to feel like clutter to me in my own home and instead of adding to the feel of the decor, they begin to feel like something else that collects dust.  It's not that I don't care what my home looks like, I do care.  I just don't know how to make it look the way I want to.

I imagine it is a question of DNA or maybe environment.  Maybe my mother got it from my grandmother and my sister got it from my mother.  So what happened to me?  How does DNA work?  If my sister and I come from the same gene pool, why don't we get the same characteristics?

The same can be said for having cancer.  Neither my mother, my sister, my aunt or my grandmother have been diagnosed with cancer, thank God, but I have.  Is it something in my DNA?  Is it something in my environment?  What is it? 

I feel like I need to figure it out because as much as I would like to have the taste that the women in my family have and be able to pass it on to my daughters, I am more concerned that what I might be passing on to my daughters is much more sinister. 

I don't want my daughters to ever have cancer.  I sincerely hope that in the way that I missed the decorating gene, they will miss the cancer gene.  I hope they have beautifully decorated homes and an appreciation for things-all while they are cancer free.

World Cancer Day 2010

February 4th is World Cancer Day.  A day designated to raise awareness of the number #1 killer world-wide.  Not war, not HIV/Aids, not Heart Disease, not natural disasters....cancer.  That's not to say that there aren't other worthy causes in the world, because that just isn't true, but I think that sometimes people think that cancer is something far away and removed from them. 

Cancer isn't far away at all.  It can affect you, your parents, your siblings, your children, your friends.  Here are a few examples:

My friend Michael-At 45 he was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma (an oral cancer).  He is not and has never been a tobacco user.  He is healthy and active and he is now facing his 4th surgery to remove cancerous tissue after already completing chemo and radiation.  He has two tween age kids.  Michael is still fighting.

My friend Ankie-At 46 she was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer and thyroid cancer.  She is a life long athlete, eats organically and makes sure that she uses no chemicals/pesticides in her yard or home.  She has two beautiful girls.   After chemo, several surgeries and breast reconstruction, Ankie is hopeful that she is beating cancer.

My friend Wendy-At 45 she was diagnosed with Stage IV colo-rectal cancer.  Wendy is a nurse and takes care of people every day.  She has no family history and had no reason to suspect that colo-rectal cancer was in her future.  She also has two beautiful girls.  Wendy is still fighting.

My friend Marty-At age 41 he was diagnosed with a rare cancer called Thymus Carcinoma.  Marty was a firefighter and a fitness buff, training other firefighters to improve their health.  He had two young wonderful children.  Marty lost his fight June 3, 2008

Me-Tracy-At age 43 I was diagnosed with Stage II breast cancer.  I have no family history and no typical risk factors.  I have two perfect, wonderful girls.  After chemo, radiation and surgery, I am hopeful that I am beating cancer.

On World Cancer Day, make a commitment.

• Do it in your own life, go out and be active, limit your alcohol, be healthy in your diet choices, DON'T SMOKE, be aware of your environment and your risk factors.
• Be Informed.   http://www.who.int/mediacentre/events/annual/world_cancer_day/en/index.html
• Give time or money.

Click to give free mammograms:  http://www.thebreastcancersite.com/clickToGive/home.faces?siteId=2&ThirdPartyClicks=BCS_linktous_120_02

Check out the opportunities at the American Cancer Society:  http://www.cancer.org/docroot/home/index.asp

Donate today. I am walking in the Susan G. Komen 3 day walk again this year.  I am hoping to raise over 5000.00 dollars this year.  http://www.the3day.org/site/TR/2010/SeattleEvent2010?px=2282716&pg=personal&fr_id=1471

Normal Breathing

Last week was preventative maintenance week and I had my follow up with my oncologist, blood work, zometa, an MRI and a bone density scan.  All of this is part of my continuing plan to make sure I remain healthy. 

I know all of this and am thankful that I have the opportunity to have good health care, but there is a certain amount of anxiety that goes with all of these tests.  There is always the possibility that something will come back as suspicious.  Because I don't get any of the results immediately, this generally means a few days of concern.  There is just always something in the back of my mind reminding me that the possibility of a recurrence is there.  I feel like I breathe a little shallower and walk a little quieter so as to not wake up any demons that might be sleeping inside.

Yesterday I got a call from my oncologists nurse telling me that not only is my bone density holding up, but my MRI came back perfectly normal as did all of my lab work.  I took my first normal breath of the week.

Thank you God.

Doctors and Nurses and Techs, Oh My!

This week is tune-up and preventative maintenance week.  Yesterday I had a follow-up with my surgeon and a bone density scan.  Tomorrow I have a follow-up with my oncologist, a zometa infusion and an MRI. 

I currently think of myself as a healthy person so it is kind of strange to be spending so much time at doctors offices and hospitals but it also helps me to maintain the idea that I am a healthy person.

The bone density scan is something I will have once a year (this is my second one).  Because I was forced into menopause through chemo and because I am taking Tamoxifen, there is some concern about bone loss so I will have this test each year to make sure that my bones are holding up.

I have an appointment with my oncologist every 3 months.  For the most part, these are now just appointments to make sure I'm not having any adverse side effects of the drugs, she will also do a breast exam and check my lymph nodes.  I have blood work done each time that tests various things such as my iron, my vitamin D level, my estrogen level and my tumor markers.

I will have my 3rd infusion of Zometa.  Zometa is a bisphosphonate which is essentially a bone density drug.  For me, with my diagnosis, this drug is a preventative.  Zometa has been shown to reduce the risk of a recurrence to the bones by roughly 30 percent.  I will have it every 6 months for 3 years.  It takes about 45 minutes for an infusion and so far I have had minimal side effects.  I generally have a day of feeling just a bit off, maybe a bit flu-like and tired.  It isn't debilitating though, and worth it in the end.

The MRI is just one more tool in my toolkit to look for lumps or differences in my breast tissue.  I have a mammogram every 6 months and alternate those with the MRI so I am having some type of imaging test done about every quarter.  

It is hard sometimes to force myself to spend the day at doctor's offices.  It is especially hard to have the Zometa infusion as that is in the same place that I had chemo.  It reminds me of how difficult it is.  Cancer is hard.  There is just no denying that it is a terrible, difficult disease.  However, I am grateful for good health care and thankful that so many people are on my team, helping me to make sure that I remain healthy.  So, I will go in on Friday and I will be grateful that I am going there to remain healthy and not because I am sick.

Can you say Soy?

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was told that I am Estrogen and Progesterone positive meaning that estrogen and progresterone running through my body added fuel to the fire, so to speak, by allowing cancer cells to attach onto it and grow.

It is for this reason that I currently take Tamoxifen and will continue to take it for the next 4 years if not more.  Tamoxifen blocks the estrogen from attaching to any rogue cancer cells.  It is also for this reason that I have significantly reduced the amount of soy that I have in my diet.  Soy acts like an estrogen and the research up until this point has been very very inconclusive on the effects that soy has on estrogen positive breast cancer survivors like myself.

Now, don't think that I was a soy-aholic before my diagnosis, I wasn't.  I don't like soy milk, I don't eat tofu unless it is in hot and sour soup, I don't buy soy bacon or tofutti or anything else that is suppposed to make you think you are eating meat.  But here's the problem, soy is in EVERYTHING.  Take a look at your labels, there is soy in salad dressings, bread, soups, sauces, cereal.  Everything has some form of soy in it which makes it very difficult when you are trying to avoid it.   

Since giving up sugar and sugar substitutes, I have become an avid label reader so while I can't in all honesty say I have given up soy, I can say that I avoid it as often as possible because it was my understanding that it might increase my chances of a recurrence.

Finally, there is a study that says this just might not be the case. This study says that maybe, just maybe, soy is helpful in preventing a recurrence even for people like me who are estrogen positive and taking Tamoxifen.  Could it be true that I can go to one of my favorite restaurants, PF Changs, and order the edamame and eat it without concern??   That I can give my children soy milk without worrying about their personal breast cancer risk??

Three cheers for soy!  I'm going out to find some edamame....

Measuring a Year

What a difference a year makes.  After being diagnosed with breast cancer in May of 2008, everything became about cancer.  I spent the year in surgeries, doing chemo and radiation and with fear as my constant companion.  2008 brought other things as well.  Amazing support from friends and family, a newfound appreciation for good health care, a new depth of knowledge about my own health and my own strength.

If 2008 was my year of living with cancer, 2009 was my year of living without it.  I wish I could say that after finishing treatment that I went back to my normal life, but that isn't really true.  Cancer doesn't really go away.  It is something I think about every single day.  In 2009, I got to figure out what living without cancer is like.

In 2009 my friendships were different than they were in 2008.  Not better or worse, just different.  I was reminded that everyone has challenges and joys in their life and I get to participate in those.  In 2008 I knew this, but couldn't give my attention to it.

My world became broader.  This year I did 2 radio interviews, a television interview, wrote a newspaper article and was interviewed for an article.  I participated in the Susan G. Komen 3 day walk.   I had the pleasure of meeting an entire group of breast cancer survivors from around the counry.  I got to be part of the world in a bigger way than I had before. 

I am now an expert in something I never wanted to be an expert in; cancer.  I wish I could say that I didn't know anyone else who had been diagnosed, but that is not the case.  Though I am incredibly sorry that more women have been diagnosed, I am glad that I can provide some help and support based on my own experience. 

I have been unemployed since March.  While this has caused a good amount of stress financially and  my confidence sometimes takes a hit, I am grateful every day for the opportunity to spend time with my family.  I don't think I would have had the same level of appreciation for it had the prior year not been consumed by cancer. 

I have aches and pains.  Every ache and pain causes me concern.  It is very difficult to convince myself that every pain isn't cancer.  But I am remembering what it is like to have aches and pains that are part of being human.

In 2008 I measured my year in treatments and surgeries and how it was affected by cancer.  In 2009 I had to find another way to measure.  My favorite musical of all time is Rent.  My favorite song and the one that brings me to tears every time I see it is Seasons of Love.  How do you measure a year?  How about love.

Seasons of Love

525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear
525,600 minutes how do you measure
Measure a year
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life
How about love
How about love
How about love
Measure in love
Seasons of love

525,600 minutes, 525,000 journeys to plan
525,600 minutes how can you measure the life of a woman or man
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died

It�s time now to sing out, though the story never ends
Let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends
Remember the love
Remember the love
Remember the love
Measure in love
Seasons of love
Seasons of love

Holiday Happiness and Angels

I can't believe that I didn't post on Christmas!  I guess everything just got busy and it went by the wayside.  The holidays have been great for our family.  We were able to spend great time with the girls, with my family and even with friends.  I finished all of my shopping and wrapping early so I even had some stress-free days when everyone else was running around like crazy people.

As always, I am grateful and happy to have good health for me and my family, but have been saddened by several events over the last couple of weeks.

First, I was upset to hear that a friend and former colleague has been diagnosed with breast and lung cancer.  Her family support position is not ideal and even though I know she is as tough as they come, I can't help but worry that she will at times feel alone in her journey.  I think about her every day, knowing that she has good medical care and lots of friends who care about her and hoping she will find the strength wherever she can. 

My sister gave birth to her first daughter on December 22nd of 2003.  She was born prematurely and lived only a few short hours making it into December 23rd by just a hair.  I was with her when she was born and stayed until her last breath.  Every December 22nd there are tears remembering her sweet little face and the injustice of her death.

This year my cousin Jeff went through something similar, losing their beautiful baby girl just days before she was due to be born.  On December 23rd, I received a package in the mail with a lovely photo tribute to their sweet baby girl.  Again, the injustice of a life not lived brings me to tears and the wrenching words of the grieving parents nearly caused a complete breakdown on my part.

My Great Uncle came to our holiday open house this year.  His first Christmas since my Great Aunt Mae passed away.  They were together for some 60+ years.  Though I was very happy to see my Uncle, seeing him tear up throughout the evening was heartwrenching.  Though she lived a long and happy life, it was not for her that I was sad this year, it was for those she left behind.

My holidays were happy, but with that happiness comes a bit of melancholy as well.

Holiday Cheer or no Cheer

It is the holiday season with families gathering all over the world to share food, drink, love and more. I love this time of year and love the cheer that goes along with it. However, since my diagnosis, I have been more cautious about the cheer that I partake in.

I gave up sugar and sugar substitutes and all forms of corn syrup immediately after I was diagnosed and have stuck with that. This makes some of the holiday gatherings more challenging, but doesn't really bother me to not partake in the cookies, candy and pies. (OK, in full disclosure, I do drool over the Starbucks counter looking at the Cranberry Bliss bars which are only available this time of year and I definitely take a second glance at my mother-in-law's homemade almond roca!)

I have never been much of a drinker, only drinking in social situations, but I have dropped that considerably since my diagnosis as well and probably have 1 drink a week. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy a margarita or a good glass of wine just as much as anyone else, it just isn't worth the increased risk of a recurrence for me.

Now there is a new study out connecting alcohol consumption with breast cancer recurrences. Studies are only studies and I know scientists can read whatever they would like into them, but this one says that with women who have already been diagnosed with breast cancer that drinking can increase their chances of a recurrence significantly. Since I have been doing everything I can to decrease my chances of a recurrence, I think I will be finding more joy in family and friends and maybe a little less in a glass.

T-4

As of today, I have been taking Tamoxifen for exactly one year. One down and 4 to go. I don't know why 5 is the magic number, but it is what my doctor has recommended. I do know that a higher percentage of recurences happen within the first 18-24 months of initial diagnosis, but after that, the risk kind of levels off.

For the most part, I don't have significant side effects from Tamoxifen aside from hot flashes and night sweats from being in chemo-induced menopause. I do sometimes have joint pain, especially in my ankles. But that's it really. Oh and I can't eat grapefruit as it interacts with the drug. A minor nuisance to give up grapefruit and grapefruit juice for 5 years.

It is hard to imagine that a tiny little white pill is responsible for such a big role in my body. Its role is to keep the estrogen from attaching onto any cell that might consider becoming a cancer cell. In theory, because I had chemo and radiation, I should have no cancer cells in my body so there should be nothing for any estrogen to attach onto.

I am glad to have yet another milestone under my belt.

Sugarplums

The children were nestled all snug in their beds... Oh wait, wrong holiday! Well the children actually are all snug in their beds and the house is quiet. Tomorrow all the craziness of the holidays will begin in earnest and there will be family and food and festivities.

But I will take these few quiet moments to be thankful. I will be thankful for my wonderful husband, my fabulous family and friends and the little sugarplums who are asleep upstairs. But more than anything else, I am thankful to be here, healthy and happy and cancer-free.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

New Mammogram Guidelines

I understand that guidelines are just that; guidelines. But I am absolutely appalled at the new mammography guidelines. The new recommendations:

Most women in their 40s should not routinely get mammograms.

Women 50 to 74 should get a mammogram every other year until they turn 75, after which the risks and benefits are unknown. (The task force's previous guidelines had no upper limit and called for exams every year or two.)

The value of breast exams by doctors is unknown. And breast self-exams are of no value.

How do they reconcile these new guidelines with the fact that breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer death for women under 50 and the most common cancer to affect women? They say the benefits of mammography are smaller in younger women. I was 43 when I was diagnosed. Mine was not found via mammogram, I found it myself. It was over 2cm and it was classified as aggressive. By finding it early, it had not had the chance to spread to my lymph nodes and I get to be alive.

My concern with waiting until the age of 50 is that people will think that breast cancer isn't something to worry about until you turn 50. But the fact is, cancers found in younger women are more aggressive. If those women who are carrying around breast cancer without knowing it waited until they were 50, they then have to battle late stage cancer instead of early stage cancer.

These guidelines are based on the fact that most women are not at high risk for breast cancer. Well, thank goodness for that and it would certainly be a good point if most breast cancer patients were people who had a family history. But in truth, 70-80% of women diagnosed with breast cancer have NO FAMILY HISTORY! Less than 10% of people diagnosed with cancer have the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene mutation that predisposes them to breast and/or ovarian cancer. That leaves a huge amount of women who have no reason to believe that they will get cancer, but will.

One of the reasons for the guidelines is that mammograms don't always find cancer and neither do self exams. OK, I'll agree with that. If there was a better tool to replace these two, then I would say definitely tell people to not have mammograms until they are 50 and go with the new tool. But there isn't a better tool, so why take away the one that we have, even if it is flawed?

I will continue to tell everyone I know to have mammograms every year starting at age 40 and earlier if you have family history. I know too many amazing women who have been diagnosed in their late 30's and early 40's to be able to hide under a rock and pretend that it doesn't happen. It does. Let's not give people the idea that if you don't worry about it until you are 50 years old, it won't happen to you.

The new guidelines say that the benefit to younger women is small. Well I'm one of those younger women, and my life is worth the benefit.

Days of Freedom

It is funny how certain dates stick with you and others don't. I knew today was November 13th and kept thinking that it was a significant day (other than being Friday the 13th) but couldn't think of why until I went back and looked at my calendar for last year.

November 13 2008 was my first day of freedom. November 12th marked my last day of radiation treatment and November 13th was the first day in over 8 months that I wasn't taking action against cancer or recovering from taking action. I didn't have any appointments, no doctors, no check-ups, no dressing rooms, no hospital gowns, no drugs, no needles, no lab work, no nurses, no techs, no pain.

I remember clearly going to a meeting at work that day and having my then boss tell everyone that I successfully completed all of my treatments for cancer and having everyone in the room be happy for me. They couldn't have been any happier than I was that I got to have my life back. I recall beaming and smiling at the recognition for having made it through this particular life challenge.

The radiation techs even gave me a certificate to commemorate the day:

CERTIFICATE OF MERIT AND APPRECIATION

Be it declared that Tracy Kudrna has completed the prescribed course of Radiation Therapy with the highest degree of courage, determination and good nature.

Radiation very likely saved my life. Though I was happy to be done, I am eternally grateful for the compassion and patience shown to me by the doctors, nurses and techs at the radiation center. They gave me back my freedom.

Aging Gracefully?

I had the chance to go on a field trip for my niece today with my sister and the babies. I haven't been on a pre-school field trip for a long time so it was very fun to be around a bunch of excited 4 year olds. As we were walking out, my niece's teacher says to another little girl-"Go ahead and follow Ellie's grandma" meaning me. Ummm.....Grandma?? Ouch.

When you are told that you are going to have to have chemo and lose your hair, there is a certain amount of vanity that you have to let go of and deal with the fact that you are not going to look the same as you did before. But here's the thing...I wasn't thrilled to lose my hair at all, but once I did, I was actually pretty happy with my head and how I looked. I felt like all through chemo, besides looking a bit pale, I was looking OK.

Now that my hair is growing back and I am healthy, I have been under the illusion that I was looking pretty good. I am 44, I have decent skin with not very much wrinkling, dark brown hair-no gray, I am relatively fit. I don't wear mom jeans, I try to stay up on fashion. I mean really....grandma?? Not that there aren't 44 year old grandmas, there are, but hopefully none of them have children that are my sister's age.

My sister is 39 years old which means if this woman truly thought I was her mother, then she thought I was at least 59, 60? My own mother is a very young looking 65 and my grandmother is a very young looking 85. While they are both lovely and young looking, I'm not entirely sure I want to be thought of as the same age. And while my sister is beautiful and wonderful, I can't in all honesty say I would mistake her for someone who is 23 or 24 with a 44 year old mother.

Have I just been so happy to be healthy that I didn't realize that I look much older than I am? Did I really go from looking 43 before diagnosis to looking 59 after?? What a blow to the ego that is. Now what? I guess I need to start taking a hard look at how I appear to other people and what I am doing to stay healthy. Or maybe I just say this woman is not especially observant and clearly spends too much time around 3 and 4 year olds. Maybe I just shoot daggers at her until she realizes that not only am I only 44 years old, I am still young enough to take her out in the parking lot and teach her a lesson!

Broken Hearted

My cousin Jeff and his lovely wife Rachel lost their beautiful baby girl this week before they even had a chance to know her. It absolutely breaks my heart.

Rest in peace sweet girl.

25 Things about Me

This "25 things about me" list has been around for awhile, but it is still fun to do. Here are my 25 random things.


1) Though I will listen to almost any music, I HATE country music. When I hear that twang, it makes my skin crawl.

2) I have never found a cheese I don't like and if I thought my digestive tract and my waistline would put up with it, I would become the world's first cheesatarian.

3) When I was 15 years old, I was "banned" from my best friend Shannon, for being a bad influence on her. I think there may have been some confusion about who was leading who down the wrong path. Almost 30 years later she is still my best friend.

4) I met my husband while working in Portland and after a series of conversations found out that he was likely a counselor at a camp I attended when I was in 5th grade---eeewww!

5) In 2000, I traveled to China with my grandmother and had the chance to see the Terra Cotta Soldiers in Xian. It remains one of the most amazing things I have ever had the privilege to see.

6) I have one of the longest college careers in history. I started college right out of high school, but due to jobs that required travel and a lack of funds, it ended up taking me 20 years to finish my undergraduate degree and another 3 to finish my graduate degree. 23 years of college has got to be some kind of record.

7) For my last class in my last quarter of graduate school I went to Italy for 3 weeks. My final grade depended in part on working with a restaurant to develop, eat and share a 6 course Italian dinner. Tough job-but someone had to do it!

8) I am distantly related to Ripley of Ripley's Believe it Or Not

9) I share a birthday with Albert Einstein. I like to think that I take after him in brains and not hair style.

10) I have only one good party trick. All of my fingers are double jointed and I can bend my fingers backward at a 90 degree angle to my hand. I never knew this was abnormal until I was an adult.

11) When I was pregnant with my first child, my husband wanted to find out the sex of the baby. I told him that he could find out if he liked, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would never produce anything but girls. I have two daughters.

12) I also knew without a shadow of a doubt that my sister would only ever produce boys. She has 3 girls. Something went amiss with this theory.

13) I will eat popcorn as a meal at least once a week.

14) I love reality TV. I like anything that shows people chasing and reaching their dreams.

15) In her 20's, my sister jumped out of a plane. It made me wonder if we were really from the same gene pool. There is NOTHING that would make me jump out of a perfectly good plane, unless it was on fire.

16) One of the first songs that my children learned from me was the Oscar Meyer B-O-L-O-G-N-A song.

17) My first car was a green Vega. I plan to print out a picture of it and show it to my children when they start asking for their first car.

18) Both my mother and my sister have a green thumb. Mine is decidely black.

19) I worked for Nordstrom for 16 years and STILL miss my employee discount.

20) I am a Pisces-a sign that is supposed to be creative. I can barely draw a straight line.

21) I once cut my foot on coral while snorkeling in Hawaii and was convinced that I was going to be eaten by a shark while bleeding in the water.

22) I should have been born during the depression-I love a full pantry and freezer. I could feed 20 people at a moment's notice any day of the week.

23) My children are the greatest gift I have ever received.

24) Every animal I have ever had has had a people name, not an animal name...until my husband adopted and named a stray cat-her name is Zingo. My other animals? Lola and Mimi.

25) Last year I was diagnosed with cancer. At the time I was diagnosed, the 25 things about me would have all had to do with cancer. This year I am a survivor and out of 25 things, only one has to do with cancer-and it gets bottom billing.