ardenhammel

Today I became “that” person.  I did something that I make fun of other people for doing…today I decorated my house for Christmas before Thanksgiving.

Why did I become “that” person?  It all started with me asking Dillon to get the Christmas decorations and tree down from the shelves in the garage so that I could work on them a little bit as I have time.  However, my obsessive compulsive personality took over.  I looked at the calendar and realized that I have things going on all next weekend.  Then Dillon and I leave to go to my parents prior to going to North Dakota with Bill.  That meant that I wouldn’t have time to decorate until December. I thought “I’ll just start with getting the tree out of the box and making sure that the lights all work”.  Starting with the tree turned into decorating the tree.  Decorating the tree turned into a trip to Wal-Mart for additional ribbons to put on the tree.  The trip to Wal-Mart turned into a craft project.  I decided to use ribbon from my purchase to make additional decorations for the garland that goes around the TV stand.  My craft project then turned into looking for something in the box with the Christmas village.  Then my adult ADD took over and I HAD to set up the Christmas village, abandoning my craft project in the process.  Once the Christmas village was up, I realized that my snowmen were still in a box.  Of course, that wouldn’t do.  So I had to put out the snowmen.  That’s when I noticed that I hadn’t finished my craft project, so of course back to finish that.  Before I knew it, five hours had passed.

These were five hours where I was happy.  Five hours where I felt normal.  Five hours where I didn’t once think about anything other than decorating my house for Christmas.  Five successful hours.  I will take that and I will cherish it.  I would decorate everyday if it meant five normal hours.

This battle will be won with a series of small victories.  Today that victory came because I was “that” person.

Hope:  To want something to happen or be true and to think that it could happen or be true.

When I first felt a lump in my breast and didn’t know what it was, I hoped that it was nothing.  That it wasn’t cancer.  I held onto that hope with each new lump and with each doctor saying that it was just a cyst.

Then when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my hope changed.  I hoped for each of the following:

• That I would be there for Dillon’s high school graduation, marriage and children.
• That I would be the mom that Dillon deserved to have.
• That Jon and I would make it through the challenge of cancer without totally coming apart at the seams.
• That I could keep my cancer a secret from everyone except those closest to me.  I didn’t want to be a burden.  I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me.

After I finished radiation, my hope changed.  I started hoping that my blood work would come back good enough that I could stop being a human pin cushion.  That my mammograms would be clean.  That I would live a long and healthy life with my boys.

When I started having issues with my period and ovarian cysts, my hope was replaced by fear.  I was terrified that it was cancer.  I was frustrated with my body.  I stopped focusing on hope and let fear drive me.  I hid my fears from everyone.  I wanted everyone to think that I was strong.  That I was okay.  Once again, I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.

After my surgery, and a second diagnosis of cancer, I struggled to find hope.  It was too easy to let fear take over.  It was easy to feel sad and to dwell on the negative.  However, being sad and dwelling on the negative makes for a very miserable life.  Not getting dressed for days or not leaving the house for days only fueled that sadness and fear.  It wasn’t healthy for me.  It wasn’t healthy for my family.  So I dug deep inside of myself and found hope.  Now I hope:

• That I will be strong enough every day to get out of bed and make it through the day without crying.
• That I will laugh at something (or someone) at least once each day.
• That I will not let my fear turn to anger, but instead turn to hope.
• That I will be okay.

Because, if I can manage each of these things, I will be here for Dillon’s high school graduation.  I will be here to see him get married.  I will be here to hold my grandkids. Jon and I will be okay.

Hope gives me the want and desire to move forward.  Hope gives me something to work towards.  Hope gives me something to hang onto when it seems like there is nothing else.

Hope isn’t a magic pill but rather the ability to set aside my daily pain and fear with the expectation that life will be better soon.

I have heard some incredibly asinine things over the past six weeks.  As I reflect upon them, part of me wishes that I would have said what I thought rather than keeping my filter firmly in place.

How are you feeling?  While this seems like an innocent enough question, the response that followed when I started to answer actually left me at a loss for words (I know that’s hard to imagine).  I only was able to get “tired and sore” out of my mouth before I was interrupted with “Oh, I didn’t really want to know.  I was just being polite.”  I wanted to say “seriously?  you call that being nice?  I call that rude.  Being polite stopped the minute those words left your mouth.”  Instead I sat there with a blank look on my face, flipping off my phone, and said “oh”.  And people wonder why I now respond to that question with “I’m fine”.  You aren’t getting anything more than that out of my mouth unless you are part of my inner circle.  And even then, getting me to confide in you is like pulling teeth.

I can’t believe you aren’t feeling better yet.  When I had my hysterectomy I was back to normal in two weeks.  “Well good for you.  You must be superwoman.  I, on the other hand, am not.  I had my uterus, one ovary, Fallopian tubes and cervix removed.  Oh and did I forget to mention that they took additional tissue because of cancer in not one, but TWO places?  So excuse the hell out of me if I’m not healing according to your schedule.  Let me see if I can get on that.“  Of course that isn’t what I said.  Instead I was polite.  I simply stated that I had major surgery and that they took additional tissue due to cancer.  Because of that, it is taking my body longer to heal than some.

You never would have gotten cancer if your body were Alkaline.  “Really?  You can tell by looking at me if my body is Alkaline or Acidic?  I didn’t know that you had graduated from medical school.  Or maybe you are just omnipotent.  Either way, you don’t know me.  So I suggest that you shut your mouth until you do.“  But no, I didn’t say that.  Instead, once again, I was polite.  I said that I have done extensive research on Alkaline versus Acidic body types and whether I was one or the other was personal.

Are you sure you have cancer?  You don’t look sick.  “How exactly is someone with cancer supposed to look?  Weak?  Bald?  Maybe I am supposed to have two heads or maybe I should carry around a sign that says: I might not look sick to you but guess what? I have cancer.“  But no.  My mom raised me with more manners than that.  My response was more like:  Cancer isn’t always something you can see on the outside.  Often times people don’t know that they have it until it is too late.  I am lucky in the fact that mine was caught early and was removed with surgery.  Hopefully that is the only treatment I will need.  However, my doctor will monitor it closely just to make sure.

Oh they found cancer (insert look of horror before they ignore you):  “Yes, they did.  But guess what?  I’m not contagious.  You can talk to me and visit me.  Heck you can even touch me and you won’t get what I have.  I’m not a leper.  In fact, I was your friend until I got sick and you decided to ignore me.  But guess what?  Now I am just your acquaintance.  So the next time you need a favor, do me a favor and call someone else.“  But instead, all I said was “yes” and then proceeded to ignore them right back.

Your blog is very passive aggressive:  “Then don’t read it.  My blog is just that, mine.  No one is forcing you to read it.  I’m writing it for two reasons:  1.  it helps me.  2.  maybe it will help someone else.”  Oh wait…that’s exactly what I did say 🙂

I hope that anyone reading this is now a little kinder to someone who needs it.  Please remember that others have feelings.  You may be the sweetest person in the world, but a rude or insensitive comment can completely change someone’s perspective of you.  I know that having others act this way towards me has made me want to be kinder in general but especially to those who need it. I know that I don’t want to hurt someone the way that others have hurt me.

Today I smiled, I laughed, I spent time with friends…it was a good day.

There is a lot to be said about the power of love and friendship.  It is amazing how spending time with someone important to you can lift your spirits and make your life just a little bit brighter.  It’s amazing how the unselfish loyal concern for the good of another can draw two people together and form a strong bond based on compassion, affection and understanding.

This bond is what I have with Cheryl.  We were simply acquaintances at one point.  Cheryl worked for the same company as Jon and we met briefly one or two times.  Then one day Jon told me that Cheryl was diagnosed with breast cancer and asked me if it was okay if she contacted me.  I sent her a private message on Facebook and the bond was formed.  Now I consider her one of my closest friends and one of my favorite people.

Today Cheryl was just what I needed.  We had a three hour lunch.  We talked about her life.  We talked about my life.  We shopped.  We laughed.  We were normal.  Today reminded me the importance of spending time with someone you love.

It’s funny how circumstances can bring someone into your life and form a bond not just between two people but between two families.  Today while I was listening to Cheryl talk about her family I was reminded of when she told me that Nikki had talked to Andy about adding me to his prayers.  He added me at the same time that he added some of his favorite superheroes.  I had joked that it must also make me a superhero.  While I don’t actually think of myself as a superhero, I do think that friendship, love and compassion all have superhero powers.  Today those powers were enough to make me feel normal.  Today those powers were just what I needed.

Tonight I was able to carry those powerful feelings with me as I went to a benefit for a friend.  I looked at others with the knowledge that I am not the only one who struggles.  I’m not the only one who needs love, compassion, affection and understanding.  Tonight I thought of Andy and how he had unselfishly added me to his prayers without another thought.  Tonight, I channeled that unselfishness and tried my best to show love, compassion and understanding to others.  I was kind to others.  I smiled.  I laughed.

Thank you, Cheryl, for walking with me through this cancer journey.  Thank you for welcoming me into your heart and your family.  But most of all, thank you for today.

Who knew that choosing me would be so hard?  Just because I said it out loud doesn’t make it so.  My struggle with my internal pity party continues.  I am still crying myself to sleep at night.  I still feel like I am just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

A little background:

I attacked breast cancer and radiation with all of the fight that I had.  I followed my doctor’s orders to a T.  I ate clean, I exercised, I took care of myself.  I wanted to beat cancer and be there for Dillon and Jon.  Fast forward two years.  I became complacent.  I no longer paid attention to what I ate.  I no longer worked out every day.  I felt better and I pretty much did what I wanted.  I had a clear mammogram and was put on the “one year plan” and I was on top of the world.  Then I started to notice little things:  my face was swollen and puffy, I was retaining water in my hands and feet, I had severe cramps with my period and I just didn’t feel good.  So I procrastinated for several months (because that’s what I do) until finally I called my OB/GYN.  He did a uterine biopsy and that was normal.  But I didn’t feel right.  I knew something was wrong. I kept thinking about my oncologist telling me that it wasn’t a matter of if the cancer would return.  By when and where.  So he ordered an ultrasound.  That is when they found the cyst the size of a baseball on my right ovary and fibroids.  He wanted to monitor it.  I thought he was crazy.  I lost the first battle and we monitored it.  All the while I watched my stomach grow, sometimes daily.  I looked pregnant.  In fact, I was carrying around my cyst baby.  That’s when I got a second opinion.  Sitting in the exam room and hearing my doctor say that she was 99% sure that I had early stage cancer of my Fallopian Tubes was probably one of the hardest days of my life.  I cried.  She cried. And we decided that a complete hysterectomy was the best option.  And that is what we did.

I don’t regret my decision to have a hysterectomy.  I don’t mourn the loss of my reproductive organs.  My philosophy was that if it has the potential to kill me, take it out.  But yet here I sit sad, angry, hurt….thinking why me? Where is it going to strike next time?  How do I stop my private pity party?  How do I choose me?

The answer:  One Day At a Time.

It won’t be easy.  Some days will be harder than others.  But I’m a fighter.  I can do this.  I can take back my health.  I can fight every battle put in front of me so that I will ultimately win the war.  Because anything else just isn’t an option.

Friendship:  A relationship of mutual affection between two or more people.  

Acquaintance:  A person one knows slightly but who is not a friend.

A high school friend recently contacted me to let me know that she has breast cancer.  In one of our conversations she said “you find out who your real friends are”.  Truer words were never spoken.  It’s like cancer is a contagious disease.  People who you thought were your friend are suddenly “too busy” or just gone.  In fact, it is often an acquaintance who steps up and as such becomes a friend. News Flash:  Cancer isn’t contagious.  I will respect you more for treating me like you always have, even like nothing is wrong.  I will eliminate you from my life if you choose to ignore me.  

Case in point, I have a friend who sent me a message after my surgery asking if there was anything I needed.  My response was to come visit me.  I have never heard from her again.  Hello!  We live in the same community.  Am I really such an inconvenience that you can’t come and visit me?  That isn’t a friend, that is an acquaintance.  That is someone I am choosing not to spend my time with.

Then there are the people on whom you know you can always count on.  They are there when you are feeling lost or when you need a hug.  They are there when you are sad and when you are happy.  You know that you can pick up the phone and call them 24/7/365 and not only will they answer, they will drop everything and be there for you.  These are the same people who have never treated me any differently after cancer than they did before cancer.  Some of my friends are minutes away and others are in another state.  Distance doesn’t matter.  All that matters is that with them I can be myself, express my feelings, and make mistakes without fear of judgement.  This is friendship.

This journey is teaching me that life is too short to try to cultivate a friendship that wasn’t ever really there to begin with.  Instead I am choosing to surround myself with people who I know really do care.

I am choosing friendship…..

I’ve debated on starting a blog for quite some time.  Tonight I decided it was time…

In life we are faced with choices.  Some are obvious, some are wrong, some are right, and others are right for right now.  I went into my hysterectomy knowing that there was a 99% chance that I had early stage cancer in my Fallopian Tubes.  I made the choice that I would deal with that.  When I was told that my pathology report showed cancer in my Fallopian Tubes, I was okay with that.  It was what I expected.  However, when I was told that the cyst on my right ovary tested positive for the same rare cancer that I had had in my breast, I was devastated.  Whether it was conscious or unconscious, I made the choice to spend the last 6 weeks wallowing in my own self pity.

I have sat here for the last 6 weeks pretending like everything is okay.  I get up every morning and go about my day.  I work, I spend time with my family and friends, I smile and I laugh. I tell everyone that I am great.  And all of the time I am crying on the inside.  I lay awake at night asking why me??  Why am I once again staring in the face of this evil bitch, cancer?  Why do I have to continue to worry about what to tell my son?  Is this going to be the pattern of my life?  Where will it strike next?  It doesn’t matter that my doctors have told me that they got clear margins.  It doesn’t matter that this cancer doesn’t respond to chemo so clear margins mean no chemo or radiation, only close monitoring for the next 5 years.  It doesn’t matter that people tell me that I should be happy that they got it all…none of it matters.  All that matters is that once again, I have cancer.  If I wouldn’t have been proactive about my body and found a doctor who listened enough to do the surgery, I would have died. I think about the fact that the cyst was so big that it had twisted my ovary and had it burst the cancer would have been in my blood stream and all of my choices would have been taken from me. I think about the ovary that they left so that I would have hormones and what am I going to do when they find a cyst on that ovary. That is what I think about at night as I cry myself to sleep.  And that is why I made the choice to spend the last 6 weeks grieving.

Today, I am making the choice to put on my big girl panties and LIVE!  I have an amazing son who needs me.  I am lucky enough to spend everyday with my best friend.  I have beauty right outside my front door.  I have friends and family who love and support me.  I have every reason to LIVE!  It won’t be easy.  Every day will present itself with a new challenge.  But with each challenge comes a choice and I will choose life.  And by choosing life, I will choose me.