Touchstone

Almost 25 years ago, I married my best friend.  Literally.  It's a long story and a good one but it is for another time.  Suffice it to say, I not only married my best friend, I married someone who has been a rock for me all these years.  He has been my anchor when things go wrong.  Does his optimism drive me crazy at times?  Absolutely.  But, if you know Greg, you know that he knows things.  We, his family, friends and business partners, are always driven crazy by the comment, "I know things", but, ultimately he is right. [I can't believe that I put that in writing].

Greg, as always, has been my touchstone through all of this that is my life, our life.  He has sat in more hospital waiting rooms for me over the years and he has never failed me.   My daughters told me that in the sixteen hours that they were at the hospital waiting, he did not close his eyes a single time to rest.  He is devoted to me and especially in the last few months, it has brought me more comfort than I could ever describe.

 I expected to be growing more and more anxious yesterday, to not be able to sleep last night and none of that has happened.  I took a bath early in the evening with a good book and sat down to go through emails and look at Facebook and I say Greg's latest post and it has helped me to put a timeline and a victory to this next phase of this cancer battle. 

Greg wrote:

Tomorrow Andrea starts Chemo. Its been a long 3 months but so far things have been going well. Currently Andrea has an excellent chance of never having to deal with cancer again. Along the way family and friends have been great with their support. Words can never express well my deep feelings of gratitude for everyone in our lives. Also along they way we have found grace and beauty... daughters who sleep on a couch to give their mom medicine during the night...neighbors who just cut your grass...sisters who arrange meals from friends...parents who buy you a reclining bed for comfort...parents who are just always there has your safety net and foundation to go on... Drs. and nurses who do not see you has a job but a calling to walk you back to full health. Our experience has just been awe-inspiring. All of this has led me to one conclusion...It is A Wonderful Life we have been given and like George Bailey we sometimes need a harsh example to see clearly the love around us. In the end...that is all that matters. So by the time Christmas comes we will watch the movie Its a Wonderful Life has a family and know the gift we have been given is Andrea's full health. Thanks to all.

So, this Christmas, I plan to sit and watch this wonderful classic movie with Greg, Amanda and Ali surrounding me and be ever mindful that yes, there are bumps and even boulders in the road but, with faith, family and friendship, we can get through anything.

 To my wonderful husband, I love you more than words can say and I look forward to sitting together with you and the girls, when they are home for Christmas break, watching the movie and sharing a big box of tissue.

What Are The Odds?

40%

If I do nothing, the odds of the cancer coming back is 40%.  It seems incredible with all that I have done that it could be this high but alas, cancer is a tricky little bugger.  Greg, Ali and I met with my oncologist at Northwestern last Thursday.  Dr. T is a lovely woman and I am glad that she is the one that was recommended to me.  She is compassionate, intelligent and made us all feel comfortable.

She told us that her job is to get that percentage as close to 0% as possible.  She is going to start me with a cocktail [I wish it was the yummy kind] of two different chemo drugs.  And yes, my hair will fall out, there is no question to that.  There are other not so great side effects but she will try to minimize these as much as possible.

I find it some things funny, and most women I know will easily relate to this;  why is our hair the nicest just before it needs to get cut?  We have periods where we cannot stand our hair, and yet, as soon as the appointment with our hairdresser nears, our hair seems to know and styles and behaves just the way we want it.  I know that within the next three weeks I will begin to lose my hair and as would be the case, my hair has been behaving for me, even in this sweltering humidity we have been having.  

After Ali had taken me to the plastic surgeon for a follow up just a couple days before we met with my oncologist last week, we stopped at a place in Chicago that helps mastectomy patients.  I tried on several wigs and we did find one that we both liked on me.  I hesitated ordering it but now, well, I need to place the call. :O(

There have been so many of you that have emailed, sent cards, Facebook posts and even on here supporting me through the anxiety of meeting with the oncologist and I wish to thank you.  It means allot that you care and are concerned.  Thank you from all of us.

P.S.  Also, just to update you, Amanda is starting her third week at Leadership Training for ROTC and is getting great marks from her Lieutenants.  She was selected to be a color guard for the graduation ceremony that Greg will be attending on the 3rd of August.  She sounds exhausted when we hear from her but she is really enjoying what she is doing and is already planning a six week program at the base in Germany next summer specifically for critical care nursing.

My Daughters Set the Example

As a child I was afraid of the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz. She was green, ugly and screeched.  Her pets, those hideous monkeys, were equally as terrifying to me.  It was shown on television every year and my family would sit around the living room after dinner and watch it together.  I feel as if I am aging myself by saying that this was before VCR's, DVD players and such.

Now, as an adult, I am afraid of heights, clowns, severe thunderstorms and, I have come to realize more and more this week, the unknown.  I have caught myself crying as I await my visit with the oncologist for the first time this Thursday.  My mind goes back to when I was a child and my mother had chemo treatments.  The treatments took a beautiful, fun loving and vital woman and turned her into something that people stared at when we went out.  Not the typical stares that she would get before the cancer, but gawking, "what's the matter with her" stares from strangers.

These images have been going through my mind.  Things my mother said as well keep repeating themselves.  I remember my mother sick and telling me that the chemo made her mouth taste like metal.  I remember her having to have her stomach area drained of fluid with insanely long needles and tubes and having to be sent out of the room so I could not see the procedure.  I remember her bad blonde wig that she wore and I remember going out as a family and wanting to scream and yell at the people pointing and staring at her.  

Most importantly though, I remember her dignity.  She would hold her head up high, proud and tall wherever she went.  I cannot imagine that the staring did not bother her.  She was a beautiful woman and the looks that she got when she was sick were not the looks and stares that she was surely used to. 

There are times in our lives when we get scared.  My family did not know that I sat in the shower and cried for a half hour yesterday morning.  When Greg came back from church yesterday, all he had to do was say the word, "chemo", and I started to cry.  I told him I did not want to talk about it, I then told him and Ali of the growing anxiety I was having over Thursday's appointment and the fear of the unknown.  We all talked and got it out in the open, Greg assuring me that even if I were to get sick, would it really matter in the scheme of life, our future and the girls future?  No!  

Our oldest daughter Amanda is currently at Fort Knox in Kentucky undergoing Leadership Training for the ROTC.  She is studying nursing and wants to be an Army nurse.  In this age of technology, the ROTC has made live video feeds and photos available of the journey that she has undertaken.   She is part of Echo Company and we could not be more proud of what she has chosen to undertake.  The night before she left there were tears and anxiety; she was scared of the unknown.  But, she got on the plane in the morning without looking back and has jumped in.

Ali will be heading to Haverford College in August.  It is right outside Philadelphia and is 13 hours away.  When Ali started applying to schools we had many conversations about the schools that she was choosing as there were none close to home and she was already getting nervous about the idea of being so far away.  Greg and I brought up Northwestern several times as an option but she is very wise.  She told us that she did not want to apply there.  Not that Northwestern wasn't an excellent school but that it would not challenge her to go out and conquer the fears that she had of leaving home and truly being on her own for the first time.

So, this morning, as I watched a live video feed of what another company is doing and what Amanda will be doing very soon, I started to cry.  I cry with pride for her and what she is doing but also for the realization that came to me.  I need simply to look at my two most amazing daughters for the strength that I need to continue this journey that I am forced to undertake. Not only to be there and someday sit in the "dreaded front pew" at Old St. Pat's as my husband calls it [the pew that the brides parents sit in], but, to watch them, go forth and conquer their own fears of what lies ahead. They have done so willingly and with their head held high.  I must follow the example that my daughters have both set for me.