You Want Me to Put that WHERE?

My life right now centers around a blue pill box - the kind with a box for each day, split into AM, Noon, Evening, PM. Thank goodness there are some things to help with my chemo brain...(I forget at least one important thing a day...my brain is a foggy place these days - which I beg you to keep in mind as I write...my thoughts are so scattered now...it takes me far too long to write a complete thought. But we'll try anyway...)

My day starts at 6:15am when I take the chemo. There is a precise order to things because of what meds need to be taken on an empty stomach, and which ones require food and timing things which knock me out most so I can take a nap. Chemo is a "no food" set of pills, and then I can't eat anything for another hour. So I drift back to sleep if possible, or scan Instagram for lovely photos.

About 7:30am, my sweet mama makes me breakfast and I take my next two pills...the ones that require food.

If I'm feeling good (which sadly, over the past week, has not happened much), I go to work for a few hours. My incredible team is so supportive in understanding that as much as I want to be there, cancer is a unruly beast and I have yet to get the meds figured out to a functioning level yet. This week, between adjusting to my new antidepressant/mixed with my other drugs that make me drowsy as side effects, I have done little besides sleep. I haven't even had much energy for reading...today I actually landed back at the doctor because I had had a sore throat and white spots on my tongue and we (I apparently talk as "we" now, but I refer to me and mom and my nurses) were worried it might be an infection...it's only thrush. Something people on chemo often get due to the high numbers of medications they are taking. I had it earlier this month too...so we added another pill for the next 7 days to clear up my throat. I hate thrush. It makes your mouth hurt and I already can't taste food due to a few of the pills I'm on...But my mouth should hurt less after a few days of the thrush medicine and then hopefully I'll be able to eat again.  So thrush pill about noon for the next week.

When we were at the doctor today, I was asking the nurse practionier about tips for the usual dry mouth/ dry nose side effects of chemo (which are made worse by my nightly oxygen use). We were able to get a humidifier today from Norco, but the coconut oil I'd been putting in my nose wasn't helping much and my nose is now so dry from the oxygen and smokey Bend summer that it really is hurting...she said the best thing for dry nostrils? KY Jelly. (You want me to put that where?) I had to laugh...humor for the win! But seriously, KY Jelly apparently is the trick...my grocery basket when we went to the store to pick up the thrush med from the pharmacy, KY Jelly, a few things that sounded good (cantaloupe, carrot juice and sugar free throat lozenges to aid my sore throat) was a pretty funny sight.

After work (when I make it), mom and I usually have one errand to do. That's all I can handle right now. A quick trip to the bank, or to pick up something at the store. There are about 3 doctor's appointments a week to follow-up on the drugs and how I'm handling them, or when the home health nurse comes to check-in. The rest of my day involves sitting in front of the air conditioner and fans in our living room trying to combat hot flashes and the aches and pains of cancer, but really that means sleeping because the pills knock me out so much that I now sleep from about 1 to 4:30 every afternoon. We have a little dinner about 6, and by dinner I mean I nibble on whatever doesn't hurt my mouth (and no matter what lovely thing we have, it's just the motions of chewing now...they tell me taste will come back and improve even when we finish the thrush meds next week).

Bedtime is getting earlier and earlier (except tonight) and involves a routine of baking soda/salt mouthwash to combat mouth pain, two more pills, and settling into my hospital bed with a yoga nidra meditation before I dose off...although tonight, I'll be adding KY Jelly in my nose before I hook up to the oxygen tank....here's to humor, rest and hopefully some moist nostrils by morning! ;-)

48 Hour Miracles...

It is hard to believe it has been 48 hours since I could barely move....the horrific pain of last week was so bad that on Thursday when we went to the oncologist I had to use a wheelchair for the first time because I could not walk from the car to the doctor's appointment. After the appointment, mom and I actually had a moment where I was not sure I could get back into the car due to the extreme pain and it took a good 15 minutes for me to muster enough strength to pull myself into the car. It's a strange experience to have your body give out on you in pain, to know what you were once capable of and due to pain and lack of strength to not be able to move.

Getting the pain pills under control and getting sleep finally, thanks to the fancy mattress cover, I began feeling like a whole new woman on Friday afternoon...I actually could get myself out of bed without needing people to literally pull me up. I could sit up in the recliner again! Although I began having side effect symptoms from the chemo on Friday (dizziness, nausea and a headache), it is still a night and day difference from what I had been feeling! Saturday I actually felt like myself and took advantage of it!!

My uncle came to town and my family was able to gather for coffee at Barnes & Noble like we used to on Saturday mornings, all in smiles and be together. My sister and I were then spoiled with a girl's shopping day at Ross - retail therapy: new dresses do wonders for a woman's soul! As my body has changed a great deal from being in bed lately, it was nice to find some things to feel pretty in and to actually feel like I have the energy to dress up again a bit is refreshing!!

Then Monday night's art benefit means old friends are coming to town!! I can't believe the incredible number of friends showing up for this! It's humbling, inspiring and I feel SO FREAKING LOVED!!! One of my oldest childhood friends and her mama came by on Saturday afternoon and it was so good to squeeze her! I feel energized just knowing how many wonderful hugs I will get over the next few days!! AND I finally am feeling good enough to go back to work Monday - I've been cleared to work 3 hour shifts and the benefit of feeling like I am contributing to the world again, to the company that is blessing me beyond believe with insurance and support means so very much to me and I am eager to see my friends at PacificSource! It will do wonders for my soul!

I truly am the luckiest girl in the world, in spite of everything, these are magical days!

Let's Try New Drugs (or chemo arrived in the mail today, woo hoo)!

Today my much awaited new chemo arrived via UPS. We're trying our own trial of sorts with a drug called Cometriq....I canceled the trial I was going to do in Portland, feeling that it was going to drain me with lots of travel and unknowns. After doing a genetic test on my tumors, we learned that my cancer has traits similar to thyroid cancer, so this specific drug is very targeted. We know what I'm getting. The Portland trial wouldn't guarantee what drug I was getting as I would be either in a control group or not. My oncologist and I are hopeful this drug, although never tried with Sarcoma, has potential for good. Wouldn't it be a wonder if it works as we could make history and help someone else? ;-)

The white cooler of pills arrived this afternoon and I read through the usual side effects, nothing too different than the doxo. I was on. It came from an East Coast pharmacy with a packet of sunscreen, lotions, lip balm and a note: call us anytime. We hope this works too! They'll ship it every month, no cost to me what so ever. Miracle courtesy of my insurance company bending over backwards to help get this drug!

I hit a dark place last weekend but I think I'm coming through it. After getting home from Hospice House, I had managed to pull my groin and was in some of the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced...let's add insult to injury. I could barely move all weekend, but pushed through trying to get some grounding beneath me again. To feel, slightly, even if temporarily, normal. I realized there are about two days while at Hospice House that I do not remember in any way shape or form...my family came from Portland and I have no recollection of the entire experience...I remember other guests, but those days that I was really flying high on morphine are completely gone (no offense, family). It is a strange thing to  be made aware of a gap in one's memory...

The home health nurse came on Friday to officially sign me up. That's when it hit me. This is real. Before, I could go to doctor's appointments, watch them pump red chemo into my port and say the words "I have cancer," but it still felt surreal, like any minute the nightmare would be over and I would wake up to my old life. I had been working and trying to carry on as if all I had to do was take some drugs and it would be ok. The nurse (whom I like a great deal) made it real though...she asked questions about how home bound I am, what I'm able to do for myself vs. what my family has to do, and it hit like a ton of bricks. This is my real right now. Cancer is part of it. I got scared. The weekend turned into a dark place and I fell into a funk of wondering how soon I should be responsible for getting my affairs in order and still maintain a sense of hope and expecting miracles. It's a delicate balance. Everyone should have their affairs on track in the 30s, but who really does that?

Sunday my sis took me to the mountains for a little drive, loaded me up on morphine and we at least let the sunshine kiss our heads as we talked and cried. She made me aware of the darkness I had let sink it...I'm shaking it off and I know it will come and go, and I can be both responsible for me and expectant of miracles at the same time. All these things collide in this odd and beautiful dance unlike anything you can imagine if you have never walked it. It is a lonely place, and yet, the support I have is incredible...I'm in a strange paradigm.

My friend Nancy shared her survivor story with me again last night, and the switch went off: I still have time. I am not in my grave yet. The voice in my heart told me to fight, to make goals, to nurture myself and to put on my bad ass armour and fucking fight like hell (excuse my language). Today all I could do, thanks to being doped up on morphine for the groin pain, was lay in bed, ogle Pinterest and watch Facebook; there were no doctor's appointments, nothing that had to be done. Family friends graced my bedside chair all day encouraging me with hugs, love and laughter. I am not alone and I feel alone at the same time. BUT I feel stronger, more hopeful and more authentic knowing this is my story, crappy as it is, it is not finished! Both the struggle and the calm are beautiful and now being able to recognize that this is truly real, freely empowers me to process it, to feel the rawness of it and to move forward into both good days and challenge. I will have equal numbers of both and I am so very deeply thankful that I am never truly alone! The tribe that I have is bigger, more enormous in loving me than I will ever understand, and Spirit, is still here. As always. Bring on the new drug, the adventure, the eff off cancer attitude and a willingness to rest, fight and be in the battle. Here we go!

Heroes

Tonight I'm laying in my hospital bed that has been set up in my bedroom at home, the moonlight pouring through the window under the breeze of the fan. I'm roasting. It has been a wild day. The home health nurse came for an intake this morning to ensure I'm set up well after arriving home last night. There were doctors appointments and we finally had my tumor markers checked so we can avoid as many CT scans in the future...average is about 220...mine is 534. We new the tumors were growing like wildfire, and at least we can measure it with few CTs now.

My oncologist has become one of my heroes. Today as we talked again about the significance of quality of life, of knowing what I want and making shit happen - he is part of my army working with my insurance and palliative doctors to make sure I get the quality of life I want. I am not a woman who will idly sit on my couch waiting to die, he gets this and I feel so heard and fought for by him right now. We are talking about how I can keep working a little bit to feel like I am contributing to society and how to make my dream of a summer beach trip a reality. I have so many heroes in my life - so many incredible supporters, champions and dream-givers.

I transitioned home last night on pain patches, but still ended up needing pills this evening...the pain is getting worse.  We are gearing up to start the new treatment plan tomorrow...The drugs are ordered; we know it's a wild unknown...my doc has never used these drugs, and we have no idea what to expect. And yet I am more at peace about this treatment plan than any we have thus considered. It doesn't mean it's easy. There has been much grieving in the last few days...things I'm sad I might miss.

Grieving doesn't mean I'm giving up. I still have a big fight in me, and many wild miracles, but I cannot ignore the pain, the what-ifs and whens of a wildfire cancer that forces me to look within and be blessed by the beauty and the pain that simultaneously walk side-by-side in my life presently.

Tonight my family and I went on a picnic at Green Lakes trail head up the Cascade Lakes Highway...a little table by the streams and cooled off in the mountains. They are my heroes. I wrestle with how things could have gone differently had I died on the the surgery table back in March, and although that would have hurt, it would be a different pain. Instead, we are blessed with living daily with the pain, my lack of energy and our very different pain. Each day the blessing, beauty and heartache are with us.  That's okay. I am so thankful for my co-survivors, my family who has the daily routine of experiencing every part of this with me and I am more in love with them than ever.

Have you hugged your family today?

Plan B

The past week has been a whirlwind of emotions. It started last Thursday with my first CT scan since starting doxorubicin (chemo). It wasn't good. The tumors have grown substantially. My oncologist here had called my specialist at OHSU to discuss options before coming in to tell me and my mom the news. They had decided not to put me through the third dose of chemo, saying it wasn't fair to put me through that when it did nothing. I lost it. Mom and I had a good cry, then had a little picnic in the woods. The woods have always comforted me.

The next day one of my best friends and my sister took me out. We needed time to cry, to process, to sit with it.

I am so thankful for my people.

Being at work helps - my job, my co-workers, helping other people helped me remember there are still many good things.

Friends and loved ones have made the week okay - there has been laughter and love and I know that no matter what happens, I am loved beyond belief.  I am always amazed there are more tears in my body after how much I have cried in the last three months and I am equally amazed by how much I have smiled, laughed and enjoyed life.

My parents and I went to Portland, stayed with my aunt and uncle, and headed to OHSU. At this point I'm weighing out the options...There is a clinical trial at OHSU trying a drug cocktail that sounds promising...But I still keep coming back to natural options - juicing, green smoothies, a radical lifestyle overhaul. I'm scared. I'm mad. I wish for wild health.

At this point I'm reading a lot about the options, talking with those closest to me, and meditating on what's next for plan b. I'm sitting in the midst of the unknown, thinking about things 30-somethings shouldn't have to think about, and life continues on - tears and all.   Tomorrow my dear friends and co-workers are hosting a garage sale to help off-set medical costs. I am surrounded by love. I am still one of the luckiest women in the world.

Port of My Heart

The final paper stiches fell off tonight...the port to my heart is visible (well the incision and the little bruising).

A " port is a location on a coast or shore containing one or more harbors where ships can dock and transfer people or cargo to or from land. Port locations are selected to optimize access to land and navigable water, for commercial demand, and for shelter from wind and waves. Ports with deeper water are rarer, but can handle larger, more economical ships. Since ports throughout history handled every kind of traffic, support and storage facilities vary widely, may extend for miles, and dominate the local economy. Some ports have an important military role." (thank you Wikipedia.)

I like the imagery of that little device being a place of safety for ships, and having a military role...that means it can beat the crap out of cancer!!

I've been such an emotional roller coaster lately; still totally in shock and denial about this whole thing. Tonight mom and I went on a picnic and she shared with me that last weekend after chemo, she actually worried at one point that I was giving up ( I felt HORRIBLE - picture the worst flu of your life). Hearing her say that triggered a lot. I don't want to give up...I admit I'm terrified, sad and probably depressed. I haven't fully become angry yet and I know I will get there and it will move me into wild action. I'm not giving in; I'm going to fight. It doesn't mean it isn't scary or depressing, and I know not every day will feel this way. There will be good days. I'm still just lost at sea, slowly finding my way to the port of my heart - the place that will remind me that I still have lots of things to be grateful for...

I could have died in that first surgery. I didn't. I'm living my second chance. Life is already a miracle. I'm thankful. Beauty abounds.

I read the tribe's comments and I know blogging about this journey was the right choice. It's healing to me and I am amazed by your stories, comments and ways of loving me and my family. I am eternally gratefully. You inspire me everyday not to give up, to fight and to love deeply. You help me move on every moment, to see beauty even when it's hard. Thank you for being my port in the stormy seas.

It also made me think today about the power of legacy. Not one of us knows how much time we will have. Every day brings the risk of potential danger...I could have been killed in a car accident, choked on my gum, or fallen on a hike somewhere. None of us are guaranteed anything in this life.

So what is your legacy? If this were your last 24 hours? Your last year? Your last 5 years? Of even you last 50 years? What would you make your legacy??

I'm done with status quo. I don't know the number of my days, and although I want MANY MANY more; legacy happens everyday!

What will you do with your wild and precious life?

How will you thrive, not just survive?

How deeply will you love?

I hope you'll join me in this wild quest to live, love and laugh well. Life is so beautiful!

Thank You Tribe...

Last weekend was rough. Chemo wore me out and I spent most of the weekend in bed, nauseous and crying. They told me it could be worse 3-4 days post chemo, but that everyone is different so we just needed to get through the first round and then the next one should be easier.  I hope so. My port site hurt when I move it, I couldn't keep much of anything in my body, my bones hurt and I woke up one night to bleeding gums. Gross! But like my sweet mama said, they won't all be bad days. I'm trusting that. She's a very wise woman.

Today I'm home in bed again, so very thankful for my tribe. This is difficult for all of us. No one knows what to say and I'm a blubbering mess. I've decided blubbering messes are beautiful because it means we still feel something. I'm so thankful for the text messages, emails, Facebook support and just knowing that I'm not alone in this. It means the world to me.

By 1pm I went back to BMC (my new home away from home). After chemo there Friday, I went back to urgent care on Sunday morning for a shot that boosts my white blood cell count to keep me healthy, then Monday afternoon after feeling horrible and having the bleeding gums, I was sent to the lab for blood work to see if my platelets were low. They were fine. I was given more anti-nausea meds and told if I wasn't feeling much better by morning to return to the infusion lab for fluids and meds. I spent the afternoon there hydrating and taking more meds and surveying the room. Today was the first day I saw a woman close to my age there. I found comfort in this. It's a strange thing to think when my friends are contemplating houses, babies and marriages, I'm contemplating how to get through incurable cancer. I am so thankful for friends who don't let me dwelt on it, and who help me stay present to what is most important in life: the tribe.

My family are my rocks. They cry with me, hold me when I totally fall apart, get up in the middle of the night to make sure I get all of my meds, drive me to appointments, and read me Hafiz. McMurray clan, you are the best family a girl could ever ask or hope for!!

Tribe - I continue to be so thankful for your messages, cards, gifts and generosity! Everyday my family is reminded that we are not alone in this, and that means the world to me! You are such an incredible part of this for me and I so appreciate all your encouragement, generosity and love.

Thank you all so much for going through this with me, loving me and being in this space with me. You are AMAZING!!!

xoxo,
Sarah

Chemo Day 1...

My incredible support team at work....Pacific Source is amazing!

Wednesday after getting the port put in I felt like I had been hit by a mac truck. My entire shoulder area was sore, so I camped out on the couch taking pain pills and sleeping. Yesterday when I got back to work I arrived to this beautiful group of people wearing navy blue and their follow your bliss shirts in support of my first day of chemo. I am so completely amazed by the tribe!

I'm doing my chemo (doxorubicin) at BMC. Mom and dad went with me to the first round to hear the consult with the chemo nurse educator prior to starting. It still feels completely surreal. We packed the gift bag from BMC with information papers on what to eat, how to combat fatigue, nausea, pain etc. and loaded my bags with water bottles, and pill boxes it started feeling a little more real. We talked through the usual side effects and the last chance call on fertility. I've decided not to freeze my eggs - it's too expensive and with my polycycstic ovarian syndrome I never was sure I would have my own kids anyway, so it seems like an expensive risk at this point. Besides, kids can come into your life in a variety of ways and there are many kiddos out there who need a magnificent auntie or god-mother! But I'll still admit it made me tear up to think of the reality that my fertility is really drying up now...I can always find sweet babies to snuggle for my baby fix! :)

The best news of the consult...I CAN kayak this summer after all! I just can't lift the kayak or do any speed racing. I'm okay with that. ;-)

The chemo session itself wasn't too bad. I'm still sore from getting the port put in last Wednesday, so my chest was swollen and required a longer needle, but I actually didn't feel it going in. We sat in recliners smiling awkwardly at the few other people in the infusion lab. My sweet nurse Janelle actually lives down the street - small world. The infusion itself was a combination of taking some blood, getting pumped full of liquid, saline flushes, anti-nausea meds, then the pump of red looking jello shots of doxorubicin, followed by more anti-nausea meds and fluids. Sunday morning I go into urgent care for the follow-up shot to keep my white blood cells up. The whole thing took about 4 hours because of the education consultation, the next session should be faster.

My parents and I had a nice dinner while I was still feeling okay, but a few hours after getting home, I began feeling sick. I took more anti-nausea meds and pain pills and inspired my mood while reading the tribe's Facebook comments, emails, texts and looking through cards.

Then the miraculous happened: UPS delievered a Vitamix! I have dreamed of perfect green smoothies done on a Vitamix for years! My cheap blender has never done the job well and I'm sure this will help in so many ways!! I look forward to making my daily green smoothie later! Thank you mysterious gift giver!! :)

 I'm exhausted. I have big plans to sleep, watch funny movies and keep up on anti-nausea meds this weekend in hopes that I won't feel too bad. They say the worst of the nausea is day three...Sunday. We'll see. Thank you again for all the support and being my cheering committee! You guys are the best!

Work, Surgery & Hope

I have been back to work post major abdominal surgery for 5 hours days since last for just over a week and am SO incredibly blessed by my co-workers! There were flowers on my desks, awesome cards and they all pitched in to get my a gorgeous Nashelle necklace that says "eff cancer." I work with amazing people!

Quite possibly the best part of working in the medical field right now is that I work with lots of nurses who are happy to answer questions about health, or discuss what chemo might be like. I feel less alone knowing all of my co-workers are there for me in this. Being back at work has given me some sense of normal again which makes the unknown and the fear dissipate enough to help other people and feel like I am contributing to the world again. Feeling a sense of normalcy is a huge relief!

Yesterday I had my power port put in through minor surgery, by the same surgeon who did my last surgery. She's incredibly comforting, kind and held my hand as we were waiting for the drugs to put me under. I also had a great nurse in the operating room today who told me about tropical beaches while I was going under so I might envision being on a great vacation during the surgery. If only...

And me, being silly, kept asking, "we can do it on the right side, right? I don't want to cut into my tattoo..." Important things like tattoos really matter. ;-) But it is a great tattoo...who wants to mess it up? Besides, I learned recently that peacocks are one of the only creatures that can ingest poison and live through it...I'm claiming my healing peacock abilities going into chemo!


The port will make everything easier from here on out...I can do blood draws, get drugs, fluids, etc. through this little bit of skin where the implant is under my collar bone instead of them picking at my poor veins anymore. I'm thrilled! I'm still home recovering - the pain feels like someone punched me in the collar bone and yanked on my shoulder. But the pain meds. finally started to kick in today.

The sad realization of the port...I can't kayak this summer. I've kayaked most weekends in the summer time for a few years...this is highly depressing. But that movement would move my chest/should and could dislodge the port. Too risky. Perhaps this will be the summer of having people paddle me around...needless to say, applications to paddle me around will be accepted... ;-)

Photo Credit

I also realized I haven't cried in a week (a fantastic break from the daily crying of before)! The tribe helps so much! I am so loved and that is one of the best medicines yet!

In a moment of honesty I finally voiced to a friend what scares me most is the possibility of what I might miss - that although I plan to fight like hell, that is still a possibility. We all die eventually, and we don't get a say in that necessarily...I could die from cancer, or get hit by a car...there are no guarantees in life, for any of us. But that doesn't make it any less scary...and having a major illness just throws death in your face in a way that really makes you think...and for that I am grateful. If I were to die suddenly in a car accident or something, you don't get the chance to think about what really matters, to make changes in your life prior, or to love your people well. Knowing I have the opportunity to really consider what I want my legacy to be, how I want to love people and how I want to spend my life (however long it is) is actually a gift. I am thankful for that. Would I chose cancer? Hell no. But I am grateful I didn't die on the operating table on March 17th when the mass had ruptured.

Hope, love and laughter are by far the great medicines and healing tools I have discovered yet. I truly am blessed by the tribe of incredible people who courageously, with raw emotion are diving into this beast with me. It is so nice to know I am not alone.

Scary Moments & Miracles

I debated if I wanted to write this post. I've stopped myself a few times. Do I want to share the freak out moments? But then I decided, especially if someone else comes across my little blog and is hearing scary news and recently diagnosed with sarcoma or any cancer, I want them to know they're not alone. So I'm sharing...

When we were at OHSU last week, the CT scan showed some small tumors left from when the mass ruptured in my abdomen. Scary moment #1. We had hoped the scan would come clean. Then the doc said it's stage 4.  Panic set it. My life flashed before my eyes. Scary moment #2. Doc's recommendation - chemo - and the big guns kind starting soon. #3. I had let chemo cross my mind, but I am was not excited about it. At. All. The days since OHSU blurred together with most days involving tears, thinking the worst and reading HOURS of info. about cancer, chemo and alternative therapies.

Tuesday I met the doctors here again. First the oncologist, who asked for the update on my visit to OHSU and then showed me the CT scan. The little masses are in places that worry them that they too could rupture. They want to shrink them fast so they don't rupture adding more little bits of cancer spread further. He began explaining chemo - the heart test first, minor surgery to get the port put in , and chemo's risks and goals. We would start next week.

We talked questions, risks, side effects, fertility and hair. And in the end, I've decided to try it. I'll do a radical nutrition plan too (no dairy, no sugar, gluten free, limited red meat and no nightshades and focus on veggies). I'm scared. I don't have answers. I'm still reading and I plan to fight - not just with drugs, but with a lifestyle overhaul. Tomorrow I go in for an echo cardiogram heart test to see if I can handle the drug. Next week I'll have minor surgery to put the port in and then next Friday would be my first dose.

Perks of chemo? Potentially shrinking the tumors. Not having to shave my legs. Free Brazilians (do you know how expensive those are?) Perks, people! Humor and finding the bright side get me through it.

Last night I lost it. This whole thing still feels like a bad dream that I will get to wake up from. But today was bright - I went back to work for 5 hours and felt massively loved!! I am incredibly blessed by my tribe, my community and people's willingness to stand in this with me. The warrior woman in me is a fighter and my tribe is full of warriors of all kinds. I'm grateful and terrified at the same time, and my warrior woman cries, "I am woman! Back the f off cancer!!"

There are still miracles happening everyday...

1. Tribal support...there are fundraisers in the works by incredible people, people have offered to help in so many ways!
2. Gifts and encouragement encourage me daily!
3. I was given a $500 Help$ grant from The Northwest Sarcoma Foundation toward medical bills
4. I'm gaining more energy.
5. My warrior spirit is getting fiercer!

Right Now.

Lately the unknowns are bigger than the knowns; they sprawl out like cities stretching into the wilderness in an attempt to be more hip and with the times.  Even in the wilderness life still breathes and dances, adventures still happen.

Like this one...in an effort to take control of cancer, I'm starting to cut my hair...shoulder length first, then shorter. I was gifted this lovely cut by a dear friend Emily.

The past week has been a wild ride but I'm learning there is no road map to cancer. It is what it is and I can choose to find the beauty in every day...it's not always easy; the past weekend was a hot mess of tears, silence and trying to take it all in.  But here are some things I do know:

1.) I don't have words often. That's ok. I don't expect you to have words for it either. Hugs are much appreciated. You don't have to say a lot.
2.) Fear, tears, love, and laughter...are all part of the journey. I promise we're not sad all the time at our house...we still laugh.
3.) Expletives are an excellent choice of words regarding cancer. ;-)
4.) I'm going to fight like hell (Cheer me on, cheerleaders will make the best groupies for things like rough days...)!

What I'm Reading:

Crazy Sexy Cancer Survivor by Kris Carr
Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips by Kris Carr
Beating Cancer With Nutrition by Patrick Quillin
Knockout: Doctors Who Are Curing Cancer by Suzanne Somers 
Cancer: 50 Essential Things by Greg Anderson
Mind over Medicine by Lissa Rankin, MD
Take Control of Your Cancer: Integrating the Best of Alternative & Conventional Treatments by James Forsthye, MD
Essiac: A Native Herbal Cancer Remedy by Cynthia Olsen
Spontaneous Healing by Andrew Weil, MD

Plus great websites and blogs:
The Wellness Warrior (who has sarcoma too)

I'm heading back to work tomorrow. Five hours per day for the first few weeks, but that will be plenty. One day at a time. In the meantime, I'm working on a play list of bad-ass songs for my afternoon walks....what do you listen to when you need a boost?? 

OHSU

Wednesday we went to OHSU's Center for Health & Healing for  the first time. We checked-in at Oncology and I couldn't help thinking over and over in my head...this isn't right. I was by far the youngest person in the waiting room.

I was still in disbelief...even to the point of making bad jokes - when asked if I had the new patient paperwork, I called it the "welcome packet." No one thought it was funny. 

The Sarcoma specialist told us about the same information we had heard - it's sarcoma but they are still unsure of its origin....and the bad news: the ct scan last Friday showed that when the mass ruptured, it left residual cancer in my abdomen; surgery didn't get it all. 

The doctor was compassionate and kind and recommended chemo.  I could do chemo at home with my doctor and check in at OHSU in June to see if it was working. We were so in shock all the questions I had planned to ask slipped my mind and all I could do was say "ok" and cry.  Mom did ask about alternative options..specifically nutrition. The response: you can't starve cancer. You just need to eat. I'm not buying that.

We just sat there. Mom, Dad and me. Totally stunned. The rest of the afternoon was a blur of social workers and nurses giving us their cards, resource lists. I texted my sister. We tried to take a breath by having lunch at Papa Hayden's in Sellwood before driving home.

Today I've been taking it all in, sitting with what cancer means. Reading about the importance of nutrition and potential alternative therapies and hope-filled stories of survivors. There is still a lot to consider based on all the books I've been reading the past month and a half. Tuesday I'll see the surgeon for the final ok to go back to work on Wednesday. I'll also see the oncologist Tuesday in Bend to learn more about chemo before I make my decision. 

In the meantime, our house fluctuates between crying and laughing...life still happens. Cancer doesn't stop that. The journey continues. Thank you for all the prayers, encouragement, assistance and kindness. I am absolutely blown away by the tribe that we have.