While sitting in the waiting room at the hospital today I glanced over at the magazine rack and took notice of a booklet illustrated in crayon on construction paper prompting my curiosity too take a look.

The cover read: “Today: for women or men with breast cancer or any other cancer.”

               By Keara Duolan

The inside:

 “To: All women and men who have cancer I hope you get better and get up and running again. I know how you feel because my mom has cancer to. Remember if you keep telling yourself you’ll get through it you really will.”

The ten photocopied pages that followed were messages of inspiration in both English and Spanish.

The one passage that stood out and made me smile:

“No one said you had to be quiet about it
scream if you need to
cry if you must
complain if it hurts
good
now get back out there and live!”

Too often we underestimate the power of the smallest act of kindness, and caring, all of which may hold the possibility too turn someone’s day around or put a smile on a strangers face. Especially, the feat of a child who is surely dealing with her own fears; and emotional feelings at such a young age on a daily basis no less.

I applaud this little girls courage and strength.

Thanks for the smile today Keara!

My Radiation treatments are going well no problems as of yet other then leaving me a little tired, sunburned red, and a itchy rash. I have eleven more treatments left too go. The last eight treatments beginning this Thursday on the 11th, will switch over to what the Dr. refers to as ‘THE BOOSTER.’

[Trying to scare me with your big blow torch now Doc? Whatever.]

The booster will concentrate directly on and only on the area where the tumor once was, so the rest of my breast and under arm will get a well deserved break.

All in all, it hasn’t really been a rough ride and I thank God and feel very blessed that it has all gone so smoothly thus far. I honestly don’t feel completely comfortable just yet, but I guess I will always have some doubt and second guess this whole horrific experience. You know like when things go so smoothly you wonder how you got so lucky, but yet, in the back of your mind you prepare and stay on guard for the big kicker? Yeah, that’s me. I have seen it happen too many times before.

Thank you all for your thoughts, and prayers, and may God bless.

Much love to you!

“Ring This Bell Three Times Well

It’s Will Clearly Say

My Treatments Done

This Course Is Run

And I’m on My Way”

Radiation went well this week. I’ve had no side effects and I’m feeling pretty good. I have eight treatments behind me with twenty-five left to go. I met with the nurse on Wednesday and my Radiologist on Thursday they both say treatment is going well with no needed adjustments, which is good to hear.

When I arrive I change into a hospital gown and take a seat in the small dim lit waiting area (on Wednesday we were serenaded by a gal strumming a harp her music was soft and very relaxing) along with a few other women there for treatment, until the radiation technician comes out to greet me. I think I may be the youngest patient there and only one of two with a full head of hair. Clearly you can see these women have been half-way to hell and back, and you can’t help but admire their strong will of courage and their upbeat spirit on a daily basis.

On the wall outside the treatment room hanging from a mounted plaque in the hallway is a large gold bell, when a patient completes their last treatment they ring it. The bell rang twice this past week and you could hear the surrounding staff applauding and extending their well wishes. It’s really a very touching and emotional tribute to these women who each day just want to place one foot in front of the other throughout their journey with God’s will, hope, and prayer of becoming a survivor.

I say: “I gotta have more cowbell”

– Christopher Walken Saturday Night Live sketch

My first three days of radiation have gone very well. What has really been nice is they make it pretty convenient for patients who go in everyday for treatment, by providing a blue parking space right outside the front door, and on the inside coffee and treats. You can’t beat that.

Entering the dark treatment room and seeing the radiation table and medical equipment the first day was a bit surreal, like, “I can’t believe this is really happening.” But, when I remind myself it’s a hell of a lot better then sitting here watching poison slowly drip into my body for a couple hours I snapped out of it.

I lie down still on a table with a pillow under my knees, hands held up behind my head grasping a metal bar. A green laser beam shines across my chest lining up three tiny mole like tattoo markings, to ensure the treatment is delivered to the exact same spot each visit. Once the alignment is set, the two lovely ladies that administer the treatment each day leave the room, and a cylinder shaped disc scans up from the right side of my right breast, up across my chest, (the part where I look straight into the disc’s pretty red eyes and have a one – on – one conversation about playing nice, or should I say confrontation, with a few choice words) and down the side of my left breast with a slight vibration sound.  Hopefully, killing off and sucking the life right out of any remaining microscopic cancer cells in it’s path. 10–15 minute deal done.

On the first day after treatment I had to meet with a male nurse to go over a couple things about the treatment plan, and he gave me a book, a very… very… graphic book, titled “Sexuality and Cancer – For the Woman Who Has Cancer and Her Partner.”

What? Maybe I just don’t smile enough.

Thanks, for stopping by today and have a great weekend.

***I got some reading to do***

Yes, folks my score18, put me right on the line of low / intermediate risk (the gray area they say again) of recurrence placing me at a 12% chance of recurrence over a 10 year period. I don’t see that as a gray area at all. If I were to have chemo the recurrence would be 8% over a 10 year period. Not significant enough for me to even consider letting the infusion of that poison loose to wreak havoc. To me that’s just plain crazy. The chances of me having a heart attack or stroke over a 10 year period are a hell of a lot higher then that. I’m at higher risk every time I sit in the passenger seat of my husband’s car. No thank you sir not today!

Not to down play the Oncotype Test. I’m very grateful it’s out there and available today bringing a peace of mind to breast cancer patients. Researches scientific knowledge can only improve in years to come with the discovery one day of that one –– cure all magic pill for ALL CANCER PATIENTS.

So six weeks of daily radiation + five years of Arimidex hormone therapy (pill) is my final treatment plan. I’ll start radiation August 6 Monday – Friday @ 11:30am.

Thank you to all who have called, emailed, sent greeting cards, with your thoughts and prayers. They are all very much appreciated and I won’t let you down.

Much Love - Have a great weekend!

***Betty’s doing the Mojito***