Embracing Pink

I've always been a fan of the color pink. I love to wear it. There's just something very feminine about wearing soft pink colors. It goes well with gray and with purple: two other colors I like to wear.  So wearing pink is nothing new for me, but since the diagnosis, I seem to be "pinking" myself out.  I worry that people are thinking I'm trying to draw attention to myself.  That's not my goal at all.  What I want to draw attention to is  the need for breast cancer awareness.  I've been told that breast cancer is the one cancer that is considered curable. If it's curable, then maybe it's preventable as well. I figure the more attention we call to it, the better.  And besides, it's like being a librarian and reading.  I'm a total bookworm. And so when I read instead of cleaning house, I justify it by saying it's job related.  Now, I figure I have a purpose for wearing pink instead of just because I like it. It's my own sense of validation.  

Have you seen the really cool pink ribbons socks?  Those of you who know me, know that I love to weary funky socks - especially to school for story time.  Here's just a couple of cute ones that I found.

And I'm thinking I might need to get a sock monkey.  What can I say, I like pink almost as much as I like books. 

And if you're not into wearing pink, there are other ways to show your support.

My youngest son wears a pink version of the bracelet shown below. He got this one for me to wear.  Instead of doing a fist bump, he likes to do a wrist bump - bumping together our bracelets.

Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips by Kris Carr - BOOK REVIEW

Amazon Summary:

An advice-from-the-trenches cancer survival guidebook for young women with cancer.

Actress and photographer Kris Carr thought she had a hangover, but a Jivamukti yoga class didn't provide its usual kick-ass cure. A visit to her doctor confirmed her "liver looked like Swiss cheese," covered with cancerous tumors. She entered trench warfare (wearing cowboy boots into the MRI machine, no less), vowing, "Cancer needed a makeover and I was just the gal to do it!" She began writing and filming her journey, documenting her interactions with friends, doctors, alternative "quacks," blind dates, and other women with cancer--sadly a growing group. These include hip, young women such as illustrator-author Marisa Acocella Marchetto (Cancer Vixen), Glamour writer-editor Erin Zammett (My So-Called Normal Life), MTV personality Diem Brown (Real World/Road Rules Challenge), model Sharon Blynn (founder, Bald Is Beautiful), and music manager Jackie Farry, among others.


This was an impulse download for me. Sometime after my diagnoses I was surfing the free kindle books on Amazon and ran across this one. I thought why not. I'm sure I'll be adding lots of books on cancer to my to be read pile.

There were many things I liked about this book. There were some things I didn't.

First, I think there must of have been some glitch when transferring it from a print book to an e-book.  The formatting was off and that was sometimes distracting.  I mention this, because for some readers this can be a big distraction and keep a reader from finishing a book.

Second, some of the tips Carr offers are just not practical for many women.  Not all women diagnosed with cancer have the financial means to take a "cancervation", shop at Whole Foods or attend the retreats around the country - and many women will not have the means to travel across the country searching for the right treatment plan. (Though I do think that it is important to get more than one opinion and to search for the right fit on medical care.)

Some of the reviews I've read of this book have criticized the book for making cancer seem more fun than it is. I thought the point Carr was making is that cancer is not fun, it's devastating, but that doesn't mean you have to let it define you. You have to choose how you're going to fight it.   I think she's encouraging you take as much control as you can. Yes, cancer is going to make you feel like something scraped off the bottom of cattle rancher's boot, but part of fighting the cancer is fighting that feeling. Maybe Carr's tips are not practical for everyone, but they are worth considering.

I liked the irreverent approach Carr took towards fighting her cancer. I don't think she was making light of it at all.  Carr refuses to let cancer OWN her. She fights it with laughter and a fierceness I rather admire.  Even if your cancer is as "innocent" as mine, it's often hard to find a reason to laugh. Carr's book made me laugh. It made cry sometimes. It made me think. It made me appreciate the many good things I still have in my life.

For me, this book worked.  However, you must realize that this is the story of a cancer survivor (Carr's cancer will never be cured. The best she can hope for is that it will stay dormant.) It's not a medical how to book or a clinical study.  The Susan G. Komen for the Cure encourages cancer patients to share their stories.  What works for Carr might not work for you, but it might work for the next person who reads her story. Or just maybe there is one thing in Carr's book that will be helpful for you. It's worth giving her book a try. If you find her approach too irreverent or just not what you are looking for you don't have to finish the book.

I needed to hear the story of someone who is doing her best to kick cancer's butt and not let it be the other way around.  Even though there is no cure for Carr's cancer, Carr seems to be winning the overall battle. (And yes, once I finished the book I googled her to see if she was still alive. You can find out more about her by visiting her website.)

It's not a medical resource - it's an account of what worked for one woman and her group of friends. If you read this book, take what you find useful and disregard the rest.

A side note:  Carr also made a documentary for the Learning Channel. The documentary was supposed to be based on the book. I checked the DVD out from the library, but found for some reason that Carr's vibrance that bursts forth in the book, somehow didn't make the transfer to film.  The documentary was rather disjointed. I think you will get more from reading the book than watching the film.

The Lemonade Club and A Little Rambling.

In Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips, Kris Carr talks about some members of the Cancer Babes (her posse - all women diagnosed with cancer of some type) who lost their hair and the ways they dealt with it.  One woman shaved her head early on and had a wig party with her friends.  Her friends went with her to help her pick out an assortment of wigs. There were some great photos of everyone having fun trying on wigs - some elegant, some down right silly.

This reminded me of a wonderful book by Patricia Polacco - The Lemonade Club.

Amazon Product Description:

Everyone loves Miss Wichelman’s fifth-grade class—especially best friends Traci and Marilyn. That’s where they learn that when life hands you lemons, make lemonade! They are having a great year until Traci begins to notice some changes in Marilyn. She’s losing weight, and seems tired all the time. She has leukemia—and a tough road of chemotherapy ahead. It is not only Traci and Miss Wichelman who stand up for her, but in a surprising and unexpected turn, the whole fifth-grade class, who figures out a way to say we’re with you.

I love Patricia Polacco's books. They touch on real life situations that we sometimes forget that children may have to face. Spoiler alert:


In this book, when Marilyn loses her hair due to chemotherapy, the entire class, including Miss Wichelman, shaves their heads.  Soon everyone's hair begins to grow back - everyone's but Miss Wichelman. Turns out she has breast cancer.


Even more of spoiler:


This is not a sad book. (Ok, that's as far as I'm going to go without giving you the ending to the story.)  Even if you have not been touched by cancer in some way, even if you do not have any young children in your life - you should read this book.  As are many of Polacco's books this one is based on a true story. Polacco does her usual excellent job of taking a tough subject and turning into a touching and beautifully written children's story.

Since I won't be going through chemo, I will get to keep my hair. But I suspect that if I had to shave my head, that I have a group of wonderful people who wouldn't shave their head, but would have a fun wig party with me.  Prior to the diagnosis, my self esteem was at some pretty low levels due to some other drama in my life.  I had convinced myself that people only liked me if I could help them out in some way and when certain events made me feel as if I've been dropped like rotten fruit, I allowed that to impact the way I looked at myself.  One positive about all this cancer mess has been that I realized that way of thinking of was just dumb. Sometimes you never realize just how loved you are until you are feeling so low, you'd have to look up to just see depressed and just at that point, you realize there is a long line of people just waiting to you haul you up.

I won't say that being diagnosed with cancer has made me realize who my true friends are. That wouldn't be fair. Deep down I actually had a pretty good idea of that even when I was wallowing in self pity over the other drama in my life.  Cancer did open my eyes to just how many wonderful people are in my life. The number is very large.  However, I have had some people shy away once they learned about the diagnoses. Most of them were Facebook Friends that I have not seen in 20 years and probably wouldn't be in touch with if it weren't for Facebook anyway.

And I really can't blame them. Cancer may be just a word, not a sentence, (John Diamond) but it is still a scary word.  The word cancer can stump the most eloquent speaker.  Many people don't know what to say when they learn someone has it.  Others just don't want to be anywhere near cancer. Not that people believe that cancer is catching, but I think all of us deep down sometimes feel that "trouble" can be contagious.

So what do you do when life gives you lemons? Do you make lemonade or do you throw them back and tell life to send you chocolate?

How Quickly Time Passes

I had planned to post yesterday. But it was a total MONDAY. It was my first day back to work after the second surgery. I was up early as usual, but felt sick and tired. I was too worried about getting ready for some lessons I would be teaching to 3rd graders on finding resources. There wasn't time to get all my blog posts completed. (We had already delayed these lessons because of my surgery and I was feeling guilty that I hadn't done more than think about them during my recovery.) So I had decided I would just post when I got home from school.

Nice plan, but  it didn't quite work out. First I was surprised to find myself almost in tears once I got to school. And I have no idea why. Fortunately, I got myself under control before my first class. The nausea had finally passed.  Unfortunately, the tired feeling didn't. In fact it just got worse.

In addition to feeling tired beyond belief, I kept wondering if I looked as lopsided as I felt.  The swelling from the first surgery had not gone away before they did the second surgery.  It's sort of like walking around with a cantaloupe on one side and a grapefruit on the other side. (Sorry guys if it's TMI, but it's a fact of life for me right now.)  I'm really worried about the swelling since my BCN told me that it really needed to go down before they start radiation because radiation will cause swelling as well.  She had suggested ice or a heating pad. Well, bags of ice and the library just don't go together.  Try explaining that to a group of elementary students - Mrs. Archer - you're dripping!  If I could find a battery operated heating pad, I might be able to try heat to get the swelling down. Anyone know where you can get a battery operated heating pad?

Finally, it was the end of the day and I didn't feel like I had done much. I taught two hour- long classes on finding resources and a thirty minute class on Tomie DePaola, but I didn't shelve a book (thankfully my co-workers worked hard to keep the number of books that need shelving down to a minimum) nor did I process one book out of the stack that needs to be added to the collection.  But I made it through the day.

I had actually considered using what Kris Carr calls the "Cancer" card and calling in sick.  In her book she devotes a whole chapter to when you can and can't get away with swiping the card. My problem is that sometimes I still think that my cancer is so innocent I have no right to complain, much less swipe the card. (Though there have been a few things I would have loved to have gotten out of if I'd just been bold enough to try.)  And then of course there's that whole I want to get back to normal as fast as I can mentality, so of course that's why I headed off to school anyway. And though it kicked my butt, I'm actually glad I did.

The day finally ended. I got home and then had to tell my family that it was leftovers or fend for yourself night because I had forgotten to take anything out to thaw. (I had also left the house that morning without taking my tamoxifen so I ended up taking it in the evening instead of the morning.)  I was so tired when I sat down on the couch I couldn't even keep my eyes open wide enough to read. (Those of you who know me, know that's unusual.) I would have just gone to bed, but I had some prep to do for today's classes (that didn't get done either, thank goodness for today's snow day) and Patrick needed help getting his application submitted for the Rocky Mountain Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.  At 10:00 p.m. we were still waiting for the email to go through and of course I finally crashed on the couch watching Murder She Wrote. I didn't wake up until 3:00 a.m. when I finally crawled into bed, only to be awakened sometime after 4 with a text about the school closing.

So what does all this rambling have to do about the passage of time?  Around 5:30 a.m. this morning I realized that snow day or not, exhaustion or not, my body is used to getting up at this time - not to mention that the dogs needed to go out as well. So I got up, poured a cup of coffee and turned on the news.  As I was doing my usual morning surf of the blogs I follow, I was only half listening to the news when I heard a reporter comment that it had been a month since Rep. Giffords was shot. (And that reminded me that my troubles are nothing compared to what she and the others on that horrible day have had to endure.) It also reminded me that Monday was the one month anniversary of my first surgery.  There's been a lot that has happened in one month: two surgeries, a week and a half of being terrified I'd have to go through chemo, a few snow days, an appointment with the medical oncologist, a book signing, super bowl, school, registration for three walks, and brain storming for fundraising ideas and probably things I have forgotten.

It's only been a month. Healing takes time. No wonder I am tired. I was tired before all of this began.  If anyone else told me that they felt like a wimp because they were tired a week after having a second surgery, I would have told them to cut themselves some slack. So maybe I should cut myself some slack. Not sure that will actually happen - I tend to be a little tough on myself - but it's worth considering.

Susan G. Komen for the Cure

As you may know I'm planning on participating in three Breast Cancer Walks this year: two Susan G. Komen Walks (Denver & Colorado Springs) and the Rocky Mountain Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. For the Avon Walk, I'm committed to raising $1800. I just signed up earlier this week and I'm already at 47% of my goal. If you'd like to contribute you can do so online by clicking here.  Or if you'd rather wait and support one of the Komen Walks, I'll be sure to let you know about them when I have more information. I'm planning a Mother's Day photo shoot to raise funds as well as designing a t-shirt.

Speaking of Susan G. Komen, she was one amazing women. Even though she was struggling with her own battle with breast cancer, she was more concerned with finding ways to help other women going through the same battle. Susan G. Komen for the Cure is the global leader in the breast cancer movement. Started by Susan's sister, Nancy G. Brinker in 1982, the foundation has made great strides.  Back then the 5 year survival rate for women diagnosed with breast cancer was 74%, today the rate is 98 percent. Nearly 75 percent of women over the age of 40 now receive regular mammograms compared to just 30% in 1982.

It's not all about fundraising. It's about education and support. This morning I've spent some time  exploring the Susan G. Komen for the Cure web site.  It's an amazing resource, providing information about diagnoses, treatment and sharing stories of those fighting the battle - just to name a few.

I'm a Zeta Tau Alpha. ZTAs  main philanthropic focus has been in support of  Susan G. Komen for the Cure. When I was diagnose with breast cancer one of the many guilty things that popped into my head was that I should have paid more attention in college. Susan G. Komen was a name I was familiar with and over the years it has been one of the charities I support. But recently I've thought as a Zeta, I should have been more involved. (Turns out that Susan G. Komen for the Cure was just in its infancy when I was in college and considering how immature I was back then, it's a wonder I was even aware of it back then.) It's not too late for me to get more involved. Nor is it too late for you.  If you have been diagnosed with breast cancer or know someone who has, I suggest you check out their site.  And if you'd like to get some exercise for a good cause, sign up for one of their walks. They are held all over the country.

Searching for Normal

Over the last couple of months, I've often been told don't worry about . . .
Don't worry about missing work, the library and books will still be there when you come back. Don't worry about the dishes, the housework, the never ending to do list, don't worry about the diet - it will all still be there when you're ready. Just take care of yourself.

Don't get me wrong. I appreciate all of those sentiments. Basically everyone is saying worrying about MYSELF is what matters in the grand scheme of things.  I can't speak for other cancer patients, but for me it's not so much about worrying that things won't get done or that my work ethic  will suffer (hey, I just as soon sit on the couch with a mug of tea and a good book), but it's more about being normal.  I realize that for me the definition of normal is going to have to change a little.  Though I'm confident that they got all the cancer during this last surgery and I expect my next scan, whenever that is, to show me as cancer free, I'm never going to be who I was before the diagnosis. That person has changed (hopefully for the better).  But, that doesn't mean that I can't strive for some sense of normal.

For me, fretting about the library is normal. Walking at least five times a week is normal.  Doing 50 sit-ups for me is normal (ok for you highly fit athletes, that's not much, but for the bookworm who was also a couch potato, just a year ago - 50 sit-ups is pretty good.)  Running out into the snow to take a photo is normal.  These are all things I don't want to give up.  So, bear with me if I move a little too fast trying to get back into "normal." Of course, when I'm so tired I have to a nap after grocery shopping, I know I won't have anyone but myself to blame.

Enough rambling. This morning I took the first step on the road back to normal. For the first time in a little over a month, I went on a morning walk. Brrr! It was chilly.  And I am tired, but my head is clear.  I took my camera and I have some shots to play with.  It took me a little longer - at least it felt like it did.  But, I DID it. For me it was worth being a little tired.

 This is the hill that is toward the end of my usual walking route. It doesn't look like much in the pictures, but even when I am in shape, my legs usually tingle just a little after I make it up this slight incline.

So, what is the one thing for you that makes life seem normal?

To Google or Not To Google

I'm a librarian, so "googling" is often second nature for me. If  I want information, I look for a book and I check for reliable internet resources.  Any time anything happens to my boys I pull on my super librarian cape and go to work. Yet, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer back in November, it wasn't me that did the googling. it was Tony. He was very good about looking up information and sharing it with me. (Honey - I have to confess. I took all that information and filed it away without looking at it.) I think it was a form of denial for me.  If I didn't research it, if  I didn't read up on it - then it wasn't real.  However, after two mammograms, two biopsies, two surgeries and impending radiation, it can't get much more real.  Time to be better informed.

Thing is, my search this morning wasn't to find out more about my cancer (DCIS - Ductal Carcinoma In Situ - I still think DCIS sounds like an acronym for a school district), but because one of my fears is that I've somehow passed this on to my boys.  Yes, breast cancer can strike males, just not females, though male breast cancer is rare.

Yesterday, my oldest, Ryan called Tony and asked that he be picked up from school because he had a bad migraine.  Migraines are something that I have passed onto my boys.  Fortunately, their migraines have not been as chronic as mine were at their age and also, unlike my mother who first said that I couldn't have a headache since I was kid and kids don't get headaches and then she later claimed she didn't know where my headaches came from even though she used to go to bed with a "sick headache" several times a month - I have always taken my boys' headaches seriously. 

Ryan's migraine yesterday (which turned out to be the result of a sinus infection) got me to thinking. If I passed my migraines onto the boys, could have I passed on this cancer as well? So a'googling I went. According to Breastcancer.org the risk of cancer in males is very low. "Breast cancer in men is a rare disease. Less than 1% of all breast cancers occur in men. In 2005, when 211,400 women were diagnosed with breast cancer in the United States, 1,690 men were diagnosed with the disease."  The risk goes up as men get older and of course if there is a significant family history the risk also increases.  If I have the Breast Cancer Gene Abnormality, then I could have passed that on to the boys. I won't know unless I am tested for the gene. I think I mentioned that my BCN wants me to at least meet with the genetic folks at Penrose.  Chances are since there is no known history in my family that my cancer is an anomaly. But for my peace of mind, if the genetic folks recommend I be tested I will even if it means more needles. (Maybe we can get the nurse from Memorial to come help with those tests.) Information is key in any battle. I love my boys and I want them (and their children) to be as well armed as possible.

For now, my super librarian skills failed me. I can't find the final answer to my fears on my own. I'll have to rely on the experts.

As for whether to google or not to google, Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips does recommend doing your research. Information is power. If you're not up to being your own googler - then get one of your cancer co-survivors to help out. It will give them something tangible to do and when you're ready, you'll have the information at hand. I'm fortunate - my Combat Engineer happens to have some hidden super librarian skills of his own.