Tag: fighting cancer

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Cancer Family & Friends Health losing a parent Mothering Parenting

April 18th- Birthday and Cancer

 

Birthday and cancer may seem like an odd title, but April 18th, would have been my mom’s 63rd birthday.  She passed away 2 years ago, and I can’t help but think about her today. Losing a parent never really goes away.  There are always reminders, birthdays, holidays, and family events that tend to make you stop and remember.  Fortunately, I have a lot of happy memories of her, and that is what I like to remember about her.

I actually skipped the cemetery visit today. I’ve always gone on her birthday, and death anniversary. But this year, I don’t feel the need.  I know she is in a better place, and even though her remains are buried, I don’t think her spirit is in the cemetery. Her spirit is in the memories my siblings and I have of her, and in our children.  People often tell me what great kids I have, and credit that to my mom.  She was a good mom, and I model a lot of my parenting after my mom.  When I’m facing parenting issues I have no idea on how to handle, I think back to what she did, and 9 times out of 10 it works with my kids.

So today, in her honor, I’m going to spend some extra time with Ryan and Cole, and tell them a story about when I was a little girl with my mom. I have the picture books she put together, and I’m going to find the book with my first trip to Disneyland, when I was 6, and show those pictures to the boys, and tell them what I remember about it and my mom.  I think that will do more to honor her spirit and teach my boys about their Nana, then going to the cemetery.

April 18, 2009 was the day I received the phone call from my doctor that changed my life- forever.  I was told I had thyroid cancer. That day seemed so long ago, and yet, it seems like it was yesterday. I remember wondering what was going to happen to my boys. I remember my family and friends telling me I was going to beat this, and be okay.  I remember being the most scared I ever was.  I remember crying for hours and then stopping.  Getting dressed and going out with my family and friends.  Being normal, in an abnormal situation.   Knowing I had to for my kids.  Nothing else mattered. They needed their mom- every child does. I remember that night resolving no matter what, I was going to fight and do whatever I needed to do, to fight cancer, get healthy, and live so my kids didn’t have to grow up without me.

It isn’t always been easy. I have to do follow up visits every time this year, that stress me out and bring up all the “what if’s,” again. But, three years after a cancer diagnosis, with the help, support, and love of my kids, family, and friends, what I envisioned as hope, three years ago, is a reality.

I wish I had time to respond to all the emails I get from thyroid cancer patients, but I just don’t anymore.  I am planning to write another post soon, addressing a lot of comments, questions, and issues, I’ve received in emails.  I haven’t written about cancer in a long time, but this date is significant for me.  No one knows what is around the corner, but those of us who have had cancer, happen to know some of what we need to deal with.  My boyfriend, John, pointed out to me this past week, I know what I am dealing with, and can stay on top of it. It actually does make it easier in some respects.

The only way cancer wins out is if it steals your spirit from you. There were days when I was fighting cancer, I didn’t care if I was alive or not. Then I remembered my kids and family.  Let them be your strength.  Let people help you.  Even though it is a battle, thyroid cancer is curable.  Don’t let it take your passion, drive, and optimism away.

One of my favorite things I read when I was fighting cancer was, “Cancer is a word. Not a sentence.” Sometimes it is easy to let it become a sentence, but it doesn’t help you in the long term.  Three years ago, as I was crying on my bed for hours, I would have never imagined I would be in the best health of my life, cancer free, biking, 30+ miles, placing in competitive running races, and thriving, within a few short years.

I want anyone who is fighting cancer, to know life is what you make of it- cancer or no cancer. Don’t let it become your “sentence.” Fight with everything you have to keep it a word.  Fight with all you have, and then some, to beat it.  It is hard at times- most things worthwhile are.  But, three years later I can tell you, from being there and back, it is one of the most important things you will ever do.

My mom passed away before I got my cancer free diagnosis last year.  But she saw me fight it, and continuing to live my life.  One of the last conversations I had with her in the hospice, she held my hand with what little strength she had left, and told me I was fine. She told me to keep running; she could see how strong it was making me.  She said she knew the cancer was gone- she said I was just too strong for it to survive- I was stronger than cancer. She was right.

Happy Birthday, Mom.  I love you.

To all my thyroid cancer fighters and survivors: Keep fighting! Cancer is a word. Not a sentence.

Categories
Cancer Health Running

Second Place- A Year After Cancer

On July 22, I ran in my first competitive division race in Boulder. It was a 3K race sprint which was 1.87 miles.  It was definitely a different experience from what I am used to.  To start off, the race said it started at six, but there was a kid’s race, and then a downpour of rain with wind and lightning that delayed the race for about 20 minutes.  Then there was the non-competitive division race.  It was almost seven when it was time for my wave to run.

I actually lined up in the non-competitive division for a few minutes, before I realized that wasn’t my wave this time.  It was weird when the announcer said if you are an elite runner, make sure you aren’t lined up in that wave.  I don’t think of myself as an elite runner, and I had kind of a mental moment, where I was wondering if I should really be running in a competitive division.  I’ll admit for a few seconds, I thought about just running in the non-competitive division.  

But I told myself I had trained for this, and I was going to do it.  Walking out of the non-competitive wave, and waiting some more for the competitive female division was hard.  I trusted all of this on the work I had done.  The waiting around was difficult.  It allowed me too much time to keep thinking and second guessing myself.  Since the race was on a weekday in the early evening, no one I knew could make it to the race.  I’m pretty independent, but it was hard to wait around for that long by myself.  

I went and warmed up and tried to get myself into a better mental frame of mind.  When it was finally  time to line up, I felt good.  I felt like I belonged right where I was.  The only thing that was worrying me was the weather.  The sun had come out after the rain, but it was incredibly humid.  We don’t have much humidity in Colorado, and I have never trained in it.  I wasn’t sure if it would affect my running.

As the race started, I started off strong.  It was neat seeing so many people lined up in the streets watching.  They were cheering everyone on, and were shouting encouraging words at us.  I was able to run a good half mile in the six minute range, and then the humidity hit me.  I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t take in deep breaths.  I had to slow down, so I could breathe. 

There was a pretty steep hill we had to run up twice- the course was two loops.  After I ran up the hill the first time, I couldn’t breathe, and I felt so tired.  I wasn’t getting the oxygen I needed to run.  I felt like I was running in a steam room.  I slowed down a bit more, but it wasn’t helping.  I felt so frustrated, but knew I wasn’t going to be able to finish if I couldn’t breathe.  So I did something I have never done in a race before.  I stopped running and walked a few paces, breathing as deep as I could.  I probably didn’t walk more than five seconds, but it felt like an eternity.  A few people passed me, and I hated that.  But I decided even if I finished in last place,  I was going to finish. 

I started running again and right before I reached the half-way mark, there was a woman on the street clapping.  She looked right at me and told me I was doing great, and to keep going.  I waved at her, and for some reason, that really gave me a lift.  I had resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to have my best time, or even place (which I was shooting for, but not expecting), so all I could do is run and finish.  I told myself running up the hill again, even if I was last, this was a competitive division and I had come so far in not even a year, to even be running in this race.

I started running downhill faster, and could see the finish line ahead. I could hear footsteps behind me, and I was determined to not let anyone else pass me.  The humidity was still a factor, and I was still struggling with the deeper breaths.  People were cheering and clapping and I just gave it my all as I saw the finish line get closer and closer.  When I finally crossed, the clock said 14:40.  I stopped my Garmin and it also said 14:40. 

I was surprised at the time.  It was a personal record for me running the distance outside.  I had run it faster in the air conditioned gym, with no hills on the treadmill, a few weeks before.  But this was 30 seconds faster than I had ever ran it outside.  There weren’t that many people behind me, and I knew I had finished towards the last quarter or so of people.  Even with having to walk, I has still achieved a personal best. 

I found some water dumped it over my head.  I was so hot and tired.  I was still trying to catch my breath.  Some of the other ladies I had run with were also talking about the humidity.  It seemed like it was a factor for a lot of people.   

I cooled down and then watched the men’s elite division run.  They were lightning fast. The announcer said there were a few Olympic runners running in this race and you could tell.  The first man hit the half way point just over 4 minutes!  It was fun watching them all finish, and the winning time was just under 9 minutes! 

I have a lot of respect for how hard everyone worked to finish this race- not just the competitive runners, but everyone.  It definitely is a hard distance when you are trying to run fast.  It tests you.  Under two miles doesn’t sound very far, but when you are running as fast as you can, and pushing yourself, your body hurts, your lungs hurt, and you have to dig down to keep strong. I have never wanted to quit a race, but I wanted to quit this one.  I remember telling myself after this race I was done running- this sucked!  I had to fight myself mentally to stay in it. 

When it was time leave, I walked by the announcer’s booth and he said the race results would be on-line the next day.  But I saw a few people with race result papers.  I walked over and asked if I could see the results.  The guy said they were the competitive results, and told him that was what I ran in.  He gave me the paper, and as I found my age group and my name, I was shocked.  It said I had finished in second place for my age group.  I looked at it again, and asked him if these were official results.  He said they were.  The 14:40 was the official time, and I placed second!

I still can’t really describe how I felt.  It seemed unreal- from where I was physically and health-wise a year ago- I was a cancer patient, to placing second in my first competitive division race, and getting personal best time too.  In Boulder of all places- a town known for its die-hard and excellent runners.

I went to a party afterwards my friend was having and she snapped this picture of me with my race number. I had good feeling when I saw the number.  🙂

I was on cloud nine for a few days afterwards.  I thought a lot about cancer, recovery, running, and all the support my family and friends have given me during this past year.  I thank all of you for that. 

And to all the cancer patients and survivors who read my blog, in that last quarter mile when I wanted to quit, I thought about all the e-mails I have received from you all.  I thought about how hard every cancer patient has to fight and how it changes our lives.  I thought about how inspired I am by your stories and how hard some of you have to fight.  One thing cancer patients know how to do is fight, and not quit.  I thought about how I would feel if I had to write on my blog I quit the race.  That provided me that extra motivation to keep running until I crossed that finish line. 

Running and cancer have taught me over the last year, when I am at my limit and feel like I can’t go another step or day, I can.   They have taught me the greatest rewards come from the hardest trials.  If you believe and are true to yourself, you will accomplish what you thought impossible.  And never give up.  Every step you run (or walk), is a step closer to the finish line, and every day you fight through cancer is another day you are closer to beating it, or a cure being found. 

This race was the hardest race I have ever ran in, but also the race where I had the greatest success.  I am very glad I challenged myself by running in it.  It will serve me well for my next running goal, which I am very excited for, and I will be writing about it in an upcoming post. 

Second place.  I still smile when I think about it.

Official Results
  
Time: 14:40
  
Division Place: 2nd 
 
Overall Place: 19th out of 24 finishers
  
Average Pace: 7:49
Categories
Cancer Family & Friends Health Me

PET CT Cancer Scan Results- Hope

I was expecting to find out the results of the PET CT scan to determine if the cancer had spread past my lymph nodes, during my pre-opt appointment with my surgeon.  This was scheduled for Wednesday, late afternoon.  I didn’t even consider that when I told the imaging center they could send the results to my regular doctor too, they would contact me first.

As I was walking into work this morning, my phone rang and it was the my primary care physician’s office.  The office administrator told me Dr. B., had just finished reviewing my scan results, and he wanted her to call me right away with the results.  My heart sank.  I was preparing for the worst.   She told me that they all knew how concerned I was, and then I heard her tell me everything was fine.  It was all normal- there was no signs of cancer showing up anywhere else.  She said it did show it was in my thyroid, but it had not spread to any other organs.

I felt like a 2,000 pound weight was lifted off my shoulders.  I was so happy, and I started crying.  I told her thank you so much and asked her to thank Dr. B. for me too, for getting back to me so soon.  I ran into my office and told my co-workers.  D., was not in the office yet, but  I couldn’t wait to tell her.  I also couldn’t wait to tell my family, so I went outside and made the call to my family, who have been there for me in ways I couldn’t imagine, since this whole ordeal started.

I couldn’t stop crying as I called them- and my heart was filled with joy that  I finally, finally, had good news to give them, instead of always the bad news that seemed to keep getting worse.  I could hear the happiness and the relief in their voices.  As bad as all this has been- as emotionally draining as it has been- as many tears as I have cried- none of that mattered this morning when I could tell my family that the cancer had not spread.  Before I went back to work, I posted the good news on Facebook, because so many of my friends have been there for me too- every step of the way.  I would not have made it through these last few months without them either.

D. was out of the office until the afternoon, and I started crying before I could even tell her the result.  I told her I knew- the cancer hadn’t spread any further, and I was so relieved.  She was so happy for me as well, and gave me lots of hugs.  I had to run some office errands before I left, and I picked up a card for D.  I wrote her a heart-felt thanks, and gave it to her as I was leaving.  She didn’t open it in front of me, but I wanted her to know how much her kind gesture touched me, and to thank her again.  I would not have the peace of mind and the knowledge that after Friday, after the surgery is done, I can start to move on, totally sure that cancer is out of my body. 

I know all the prayers, well-wishes, and positive thoughts everyone has sent me- through my blog, Facebook, Twitter, cards, and private e-mails has contributed to the happy news today.  I can’t thank you all enough.  Fighting something like this, you take the good news where you can, and this is the hope I needed to really give me the strength and the determination to make a full recovery. Knowing that I am not alone, and people are pulling for me has made the difference. 

My uncle, Mike,  left me a comment on Facebook before I knew the results of the scan which said in part, “Heather you will be OK. Too much white light streaming in your direction not to.”  I couldn’t agree more.  Thank you for all the white light- it created today.

Categories
Cancer Cole Health Mothering Ryan

What to Tell Kids About Cancer

One of the biggest concerns on my mind right now are my boys, Ryan and Cole.  Not only are they adjusting to a divorce, but they also will have to deal with my cancer, the surgery, my being away from them for at least a week, and my recovery.

It is hard to know how much to tell them regarding my health and surgery. I don’t want them to be scared or wonder why no one is talking about what is happening with Mommy.  On the other hand, I don’t want to scare them or give them reason to worry unnecessarily.  Ryan picks up on everything, and Cole is right behind him. 

So far, I have told both boys that I have an owie in my throat.  I have told them I have to go to the hospital for an operation, and that will make the owie better.  I have told them I have to stay in the hospital for a few days, but they get to have special time with their dad, and their grandparents.

They both seemed okay with this, but Ryan told his dad that my condition is serious and I could be in the hospital for a long time.  That wasn’t the easy going attitude I was hoping for, so I am going to have to adjust my comments and work with Ryan so he isn’t so concerned about it. 

This is the hardest part- trying to make my boys feel secure about my health, when I don’t feel that myself.  One of my friends tells me she thinks there is a little Superhero in every mom.  I hope she is right, because I need my Superhero Mom-Knows-What-the-Right-Thing-to-Say-to-my-Boys powers right now. 

On a happier note, I was finally able to get Ryan’s five year pictures, and Cole’s three year pictures done.  I will be taking these to the hospital with me.  I will look at them often to remind me- this will all be worth while if  I can be healthy for Ryan and Cole.

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