One year ago this past Friday, I received the call that I had cancer.
It is unbelievable to me how much of my life changed in that instant and yet a year later I am comforted that the foundation of my life must have truly been laid well.
Trips to St. Louis are the norm for me now. At least once a month, I throw pajamas and an outfit in a bag, grab my makeup and purse and we are off. Once I even had put an extra outfit in my suitcase and because I hadn’t unpacked yet before it was time to leave again, was already ready to go.
Once every three months I see Dr. Pluard, my wonderful oncologist for a checkup and head to the treatment center across the hall for my Zoladex shot/ implant. Every six months I will see my surgeon, Dr. Julie Margenthaler for a checkup as well and also for either a mammogram or an MRI.
Closer to home though I have seen my gynecologist and my papsmere is done for the year. My breasts already checked so thoroughly, only the other end of my female parts needed a onceover. Because my breast cancer was estrogen fed, I was adamant that all my girl parts be checked out to make sure all was well. So Dr. Waller scheduled an ultrasound for me after my first visit with her once my breast cancer treatments were finished. The ultrasound showed small cysts on my right ovary and one large 5 cm. cyst on the left. I have had cysts on my ovaries before that were painful and surgery was necessary to relieve me of them. The cysts found this time by ultrasound are not painful at all and I was surprised to hear they were there.
The concern really being with the blood thinners I am on and the chance that if the large cyst burst I might bleed internally, I just this past week had another ultrasound. The Zoladex shot/implant I receive in St. Louis every three months is my new routine for the next five years. This shot shuts down my ovaries and keeps my body from producing estrogen, putting me into menopause. The menopause is a story for another day but I’ll just say Kelley hasn’t kicked me out yet so I guess for the moment the new guests in our home, Rage and Hot Flash, have blended in well with the family. My point is that the Zoladex is basically shriveling up my ovaries and when I had my second ultrasound this past week, the cysts are shriveling along with them. My gynecology appointment has been checked off the list and I am free from that for another year.
Things are wrapping up. My breast cancer now in the past. The doctors who were part of my daily life now only part of this follow up section of my journey.
How poetic though that this past Friday, this day that marked the one year anniversary of the day that changed everything, I completed the first draft of Me and the Ugly C. I gathered the chapters together in a file in Word, putting the pieces of the puzzle of the last year of my life together for the first time and watched it print out in its entirety, washing my hands before I touched it, cradling the pages carefully like a newborn baby.
The story is over and now it’s time to tell it. It is a relief to be at this stage of the journey, to know the battle is done and I am here to talk about it when one year ago I couldn’t imagine life after treatments.
Now that the book is written, the story put down for posterity, it is time to go back to work. The shop I have missed so much and the fingernail polishes that call to me have waited patiently for my return. But before I could get the plan in place to re-open in August, there’s been another catch in my get-along.
While I neared the end of my radiation treatments in St. Louis, my eyelashes which had made their gracious exit had now begun their rebirth on my eyes. I never stopped putting my mascara on, smudging it on my empty lids every morning, showing the one eyelash that never lost its grip that its fight had not been in vain. But it wasn’t surprising to me that one lone eyelash on the bottom lid would get confused and forget its way out. So when a sty appeared, I was frustrated but looking for a quick remedy. I was hoping to come home looking like the bomb and instead my puffy eyelid looked like it had been hit by shrapnel.
Warm compresses, they all said. Everyone I asked about what to do for a sty said Warm compresses. I Googled it. Warm compresses. An ice pack would have been easier. They stay cold for a long time. Warm compresses only stay warm for so long before you have to reheat. Then I read about warm tea bags. So I spent three nights, at least, with tea running down my face and tea grounds in my eye. And the sty remained.
Obviously it was not going to go away on its own so ready to start working on the new Beck and get her back in working order without any extra flaws, I made an appointment with a dermatologist in St. Louis who was able to get me in on the morning of my appointments already scheduled at Siteman.
And when Dr. Anadkat’s first glance at it revealed that the sty I had been attacking with tea was most likely skin cancer, well, you could have knocked me off the table and I would have been less surprised.
So now I have begun a new journey. This past week we headed back to the Lou to meet with a new doctor who performed a biopsy. Most likely basal cell carcinoma, a fairly common skin cancer, the pathology results declaring its presence on my lower eyelid will be in this week sometime. Surgery has already been scheduled for August 15. One year ago I was having surgery to remove cancer from my breast. This year, my eyelid.
But this cancer requires no treatments, no chemo, no radiation. Treatment is to remove it so that’s what we’ll do.
I’m ok with it all. Cancer like this appears most commonly on blue eyed, fair skinned people and is attributed to sun exposure. My eyes are blue, my skin fair and I can honestly tell you that I have never once put sunscreen on lower eyelid.
I am nervous about the surgery because it’s my EYE they’re messing with and it gives me the willies. But the cancer? No. I’m not really nervous about that. I want it out and gone and removed but even if after two doctors recognizing it as basal cell, if the pathology comes back and it’s NOT cancer, I STILL want it out and gone and removed.
I am the most disappointed about not getting to go back to work as soon as I had intended. My plan for mid-August may now be more like mid-September to give me time to heal after surgery. And even then, depending on how fast I heal, I may reopen looking like I have been in a bar brawl. But that’s ok. Maybe I’ll look tough.
Things in a long, round-about way are getting back on track though. My breast cancer is gone. My book is done and just this morning I sent the first draft of Me and the Ugly C to my publisher. My hair is coming back. I even felt like I had enough hair to color and get back to blonde Beck. But Summer and I were surprised when we tried to get me back to blonde and my hair said “No.” Whether it is the chemo I endured or the menopause that I am enduring, something caused my hair to refuse to cooperate and as I sit here and type this, I am a redhead. I’d rather be blonde but you know what? Red isn’t so bad!
So a year from the moment my life changed…who am I? Well, I’m still Good Ole Beck. I look different. My long blonde hair is short and red. I’m heavier than I was and I’m a year older. But I’m stronger than ever, a fighter I never knew I could be. I don’t stress about the small stuff and I can find a blessing everywhere I look. Oddly enough, I think I might be happier than I have ever been.
I go to bed every night with a smile on my face, thankful for this gift of the life that I’ve been given. And I wake up every day, content to look forward to finding the day’s silver lining, now looking for the joy in the unknown and the inevitable changes that life will bring.
Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself: I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. I have just one day, today and I’m going to be happy in it. --Groucho Marx
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UPDATE:
Yesterday's silver lining was very shiny.....
Yesterday afternoon, after sending in my first draft to Lazy Day and posting this blog, I treated myself to a manicure. Funny how after traveling such a long road and coming to the end of the journey, the treat I wanted to give myself was back at my shop, full circle from where I was a year ago. My nails perfectly French, longer and stronger than they've been in forever, I sat relaxed on the couch at home, suddenly pointing at lots of things, my hands super animated because the more they moved, the more I could see my pretty nails.
The phone rang and caller ID showed a St. Louis number. Must be Michelle calling to tell me my protyme looked good and to redo labs this Friday just to make sure I'm on track. Instead, it was Dr. Hurst, the doctor I had just visited this past week who performed the biopsy on my eyelid.
My silver lining? The biopsy came back negative. The spot on my eyelid benign. Glory!
The surgery has been cancelled. I will make an appointment to see her again in a month or two to ensure that the results are correct. She was very surprised that the results came back negative and wants to make sure she didn't go too shallow and miss something because she was trying to save my lash line.
So I write this to update you after this blog I posted yesterday and to give you your day's silver lining with this little story of answered prayers.
Today I am so grateful, blessed beyond measure, excited to be on the hunt of the treasure of today's line of silver.