What a difference a year makes

(photo courtesy of James Edward/Dallas amazing person and photographer)

One year ago today, I was getting ready to go under the surgical knife - 8 hours of surgery to remove the itty bitty cancer in my not so itty bitty breasts...unsure what life was going to be like without them... if the cancer had spread and if chemotherapy required...again. It was a time of introspection and yes, fear.  Like so many bad memories, this one seems long ago and faraway.  No nodes (I'm still thankful for all that great cosmic chanting)...and no terrible side effects.

Movement on my left side is still not good; my scars are still prominent but I'm feeling stronger every day.  Pictured here is my crazy self at the Stiletto Stampede (an event benefitting Komen Dallas) running a 100 yard dash in high heels and high heat index...and let me tell you, I did not finish last. THIS IS MY RUNNING EVENT.  I think I finished about 10th out of 200 and next year, I hope to win. Or have fun trying. Or just pretend I won because you can have cancer and get away with stuff in your head.

Back at the gym and swimming and my Pilates practice (thank you Laura for your patience working me back to flexibility!).  Much of my former clothing bought to flatter the busty girl, have been replaced by smaller, different kinds of styles. I am happy to be able to rock the non V-neck fashions. For those of you who have coveted the big breasts - they are not all they are built up to be. I'm loving the itty bitty club.  Really.

I'm constantly reminded how short life is; but how full of adventure it can be. Please don't wait "until..." to do something you've wanted to do; please don't forget to tell people you love them often; please don't carry anger with you - move through and past things that in the final analysis don't really matter.

My sister would have turned 49 on Monday July 9th....taken away at age 43 to breast cancer. That's why I'll keep running, walking, standing on my hands, yelling from the rooftops - ENOUGH BREAST CANCER.

Come take a victory lap with me...

http://dallas.info-komen.org/goto/war

Pro Choice

Circa 1979, My BFF and Me!

When I was in high school my four favorite things were, in this order:  boys (usually the wrong ones), journalism (I was going to be the next Woodward), softball (I played a mean third base) and speech team (Talk, Talk, Talk).  Yes, speech.

I tried the ex-temporaneous category but I was terrible at it.  You got your topic (The price of gold as it relates to S. Africa? WHAT?) and you had 30 minutes to research  (pre-google) and then present your topic.  We brought this great big rolodex of facts and newspaper articles and it didn't help.  I was a terrible competitor.  I couldn't be informed or form an opinion in 30 minutes or less.  Then I tried debate, but I found that I was never passionate about a topic enough to debate it.  I always found myself with the ability to see the other side.  Which was probably the Woodward in me.  Then I found my speech GOLD - Informative Speaking.  I could pick a topic that interested me, find a cool way to present it, research the hell out of it and inform you better than anyone.  And bonus....you had enough time (way more than 60 seconds) to deliver.  I got all kinds of plastic trophies for this category.

Speech team gave me the gift of public speaking, a life long passion of mine. I know. I know. I don't even get nervous.  I love it...especially on topics I am passionate and informed about.

I also loved my High School newspaper days.  My "Torch" days included amazing experiences (taking on freedom of the press and the principal) and a few shenanigans  (Sue Miller!)  but also where I learned about truth, integrity, balance and the responsibility of the press.  As a college journalism major (it's a long story about my descent into human resources), I continued to learn those valuable lessons: truth, integrity, balance and responsibility - I like to think I incorporated them into both my personal and professional life.

So I'm dismayed at the current state of "journalism"...how unbalanced we are... how irresponsible we can be... how we identify ourselves by our media (and I suppose I'm one of those Granola NPR girls) and how willing we are to grab a piece of spin and make it ours without being informed.  Not to mention how mean spirited we can be with our views and our opinions - so many times missing the big picture. So often injuring with words.

The silver lining of my two breast cancer diagnoses has been the great gift of balance.  I just didn't listen to what the doctor said. I read, and read, and read and questioned; I talked to doctors and women and organizations.  I took it all in and made informed choices.  And I looked around me...and I saw the inequity in the world of health care - where your geography and your health care plan determined the care that you received.  And on some levels I was ashamed (and on many others relieved and thankful)...that I had my pick of surgeons, had my pick of three cars to drive to appointments, could fly to another city if I wanted...when there were women who weren't receiving even the basics.

So I took action. I was informed. I did all my research on breast cancer organizations and I picked one that I felt was the best stewards of donor money. The one who made tangible impact - not just on the cures but on women in my community.  But I didn't  just write a check.  I picked one that I could throw my body, heart and soul into.  I have led, volunteered, fundraised, spoken, worked health fairs ..... along with the over 1100 volunteers and a shoe string staff that begs and borrows for as much as possible. Who understand that $150 saved funds a mammogram.

These are my Komen sisters and brothers who I stand tall with.  We simply make a difference in this world.

If you disagree with me, the journalist in me sees your point of view.  But the breast cancer survivor in me knows this is where I belong.  And you don't have to - because we all have choices.

But...

Please make informed choices.

Please be kind with your opinions.

To those in my Komen circle, I am sad for the hurt inflicted on so many of you this week.  The work our organization has done for the past 30+ years has been nothing less than amazing.  Saving lives has always been our choice and I am proud to be one of us. 

Cancer-versary

10 years ago today, at lunch time, I was sitting in a Mexican Restaurant that's no longer there. It's now a Taco Diner. I was with a friend/business associate. It was a beautiful sunny day. I remember the restaurant had a bunch of different crosses on the wall. And there were so many men eating lunch there. And my friends were at my house texturing and painting the walls.  Just weird things I remember.

Then the phone call as lunch was arriving. Tacos? Enchiladas? Taco Salad? I don't remember that part. But I remember the words...are you on your cell phone? Are you at a safe place to talk? Are you sitting down? And then Charlie Brown's teacher talking WAA WAA WAA WAA WAA...I honestly was not understanding a word she said until she finally got to the point. I'm sorry. You have cancer.   Yes...just like that on the phone, in the middle of lunch at the Mexican restaurant.  And then my end of the conversation went something like this:  WHAT? No, the dr. said it looked like nothing. The radiologist said she would be shocked if it was anything other than benign. So what is this you are telling me? Have you confused me with some other person that has my same name? Did you swap biopsy results in the lab - you know that happens right?

Charlie Brown's teacher sqawking again.

I remember my friend holding my hands and praying with me. And all those crosses. And all those businessmen eating their Mexican food.  And tears rolling down my face. But I didn't lose my appetite. I ate my Mexican food too.  Because it takes a lot for me to lose my appetite. And my friend gave me the name of three friends who had been there done that with breast cancer...and I got home to my friends who were painting and I remember saying I have F*ing breast cancer. And we all hugged and we cried. And then I called my sister and told her she had to tell my parents and spread the word.  I got on the computer or phone, I don't remember and told my closest friends. and Pete.  Because this is what you do when you find out such terrible things - you tell.  And then we went down the yellow brick road, went through the scary forest, lost my hair/regained my hair and got back to Kansas.

So here we are -  10 years post C1 and celebrating the Cancer-versary?  Remembering is more like it.

It did dawn on me that maybe I needed to re-set the clock for C2...but then I decided I need two cancer-versaries because the greatest silver lining of cancer is getting to make your rules up as you go. And this is mine.

Now where's my cake?

Perfectly imperfect

I will admit to being THAT GIRL in the family - the one who got the "I'm sorry I'm not perfect like you" insult on a regular basis.

It's not that I believed I was perfect but I will admit to STRIVING for perfection.  A 98% test grade wasn't good enough for me - I wanted 100% or 105% if they threw in the bonus questions.  When I played softball, I practiced for hours.  In my work life, I was super achiever. In my home life, I tried to be super mom.  In my personal life, super work out queen.  (AHA MOMENT: I never did try to be the perfect wife and I guess that may be a contributing factor in the less than perfect marriage and divorce).    I gave myself migraines, lost sleep over unimportant things...all in the great quest for PERFECTION.  Perfect family. Perfect job. Perfect body. Perfect life.

As my children turned into teenagers, the Sorry I'm Not Perfects continued.  In fact, someone wrote a song about not being perfect that was frequently turned up loud in my son's bedroom.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGs8vtjDxxY

I hate to put Cancer and Raising Teenagers in the same sentence but I am going to with great apologies to my Perfectly Imperfect sons, because both of them taught me a lot about losing the perfect.   However, since this is a cancer blog and not a child-rearing blog, I will leave out the imperfect moments of raising hell raisers.  Suffice to say, all perfection was thrown out the window for a few years. For those of you who witnessed me in Exorcist Mom mode - sorry.  Super Imperfect.

Meanwhile and back at the cancer....

During Cancer I, I think I was still doing the perfect thing.  I was the poster child for cancer.  Kept the good attitude.  Got my chemo with a smile; sailed through radiation; played soccer; kept that wig on and kept working.  Perfect Patient.  I wanted the perfect result.

The silver lining of Cancer II has been embracing imperfection.  Truthfully, you can do everything perfectly and still end up with cancer. Eat right. Exercise. Clean living. Cancer. Not to say that you shouldn't keep doing those things (I am a firm believer in them), but there is no guarantee that it will save you from the C.  And all that driving yourself crazy trying to be perfect doesn't put you at the head of the get out of cancer free line.  So why be perfect? It's hard work.  It's unattainable.

It's a month post-surgery now - I still have stitches.  The girls are not quite symmetrical.  When I look at myself in the mirror, I see less than perfect breasts. A body that could use a few nip tucks. A face that is beginning to wrinkle. Hair that would be gray if I allowed it.

You know what?  (Siblings, sons...listen up...)

I'M IMPERFECT.  And that's perfect for me.

What we don't say

One of the silver linings of having a life threatening disease is realizing VERY QUICKLY hmmm...my days ARE limited - I will make them count. But the best silver linings is that "your people" understand this too.  And they take the time to tell you I love you. You inspire me. I admire your strength. A lot. And they lift you up with You're beautiful. You're smart. You're funny. You have made my life better.  And I am here to tell you that there is nothing better in this world to have your child tell you I'm a better person because you helped me, because you believed in me and stuck with me.  Or you are the strongest person I know. You help me remember the important things.  I don't know what I would have done without you in my life.  Staring down the C hole results in the verbalization of these things.  After all, you might not make it out alive and there is a sense of urgency to let you know these things.

But then again, you might.

All this C-ness was put very quickly in perspective for me with a series of tragic and sudden losses...and the things we say at funerals and memorials and to families...a lot of things we never said when we had the chance.

All of us struggle with insecurities.  All of us want to feel needed, loved, appreciated.  Please don't wait until someone is sick or gone to tell them just how wonderful they are.  Do it today. Do it often.

Just do it.

The End....

Monday morning 6 am was the C2 grand finale: exchange surgery. Dr. McSmarty removed the heavy expanders and replaced them with the "gummy bear" implants; nipples were formed (I'm still trying to figure that out - WEIRD and NO TO pictures!);  no shopping at Home Depot (aka tummy fat) was necessary.  The surgery was uneventful and the recovery has been fairly easy.  My new Little C girls are in place.  My left side has some edema due to the frying it got during the radiation phase of C1.  Exercises have been ordered to assist but I don't think it will ever be the same.

Nothing ever will.

You can remove parts, slash, burn and rebuild; you can put on your perky and your best positive attitude...but it's a very odd feeling when "it's done."  The middle place where you move from cancer patient to cancer survivor.  Are you in remission? Cured?  One part of you knows it's a great big cause for celebration but another part of you knows it's the beginning of something else.

The silver lining in C2 is understanding this. Looking at it head on.  Excising the demons the best you can. But most of all acknowledging the new normal, living with it, allowing yourself to grieve your lost health and the parts you will never get back.  Then course correcting your own life.

There will still be plenty of dates with doctors - we'll see each other every few months until we (hopefully) tire of each other and move to less frequent visits.  In between those visits, I know that I will be re-evaluating my own life and what I choose to do with my time, talents and treasures.  Because life IS about not knowing but taking the moment and making the best of it.

I am happy to say FAREWELL to 2011. It wasn't a good year, but there were several silver linings along the way.  To those of you still "in fight" or grieving losses, I wish you some downtime to figure out how to make each moment count. To those on the road with me this year, Thank You. Let's dance with life and here's to a better 2012!!

Once more

Pete here. Guest-blogging as Terri goes under the knife once more.

We stayed over here in Dallas last night to keep from having to leave the house at 4AM. Found a cool hotel 5min from the surgery center. Met our friends Duane and Linda for dinner, tried to get some sleep.

I think I am finally starting to wake up just now as it approaches 9. Dr. Carpenter seemed very awake tho, on top of things. Being a morning person would seem to be a prerequisite for a surgeon.

Terri should be out soon.

What is love?

Remember when you were a teenager, riding your bicycle on York Street, wondering who was out there in that big world that was going to be your forever love? What was he doing right then? What would your babies look like? What IS love? Where will you find it?

OK, maybe that was just my teenage angst-y self. Yes, I was that kind of teenager - reaffirmed after finding lost journals recently.  (BTW there are about 10 boys out there I was CERTAIN were the one...but alas my wanderlust took me away from Mechanicsburg, PA...).

I've learned one thing about love that no one could explain to you while you were busy being attracted to the wrong kind of person...love isn't about looks (but they don't hurt!), love isn't about exciting (but the bad boys were fun to hang out with!), and love isn't the same as lust.  Here is what I would tell my teenage self...

Love IS...the man who weeps at your news of _______ (insert terrible thing here, like "C"); then lets you cry and be all kinds of weird emotional. And holds your hand, and tells you that it will be OK even if he's not sure it will be.  And when it's not OK, he holds your head and makes you tea and cooks you soup.  He cleans your wounds and does things you're not sure you could do for him or for yourself even. (Men who clear drains - GOD BLESS YOU. ICK!).  When you've lost your parts, he realizes you are more than the sum of them.  When you've lost your mind, he forgives you.  When you look like total s**t, he makes you feel beautiful and special.

Younger ladies - we spend a lot of time looking for the hot guy; the "successful" one; the one who will look nice on the Christmas cards beside the beautiful children.  But I am here to tell you: look for the man you will love you, care for you, laugh with you and cry with you. The man who will love you without hair and hold your head over the toilet.  He is the keeper.

When my own mother battled cancer, I watched 45 years of love culminate in those final months where my Dad gave shots in the stomach; changed IV bags; cried privately but still made my mom smile. She was his true love and we all knew it.  In one of my mom's last emails to me she said "My life is over too soon but I can't complain. I've had a loving and faithful husband and four beautiful daughters..."

So to all the caretakers and co-survivors out there - you ARE the silver lining in our battles.

My next surgery is Monday...it is day surgery and I will have the bowling ball like expanders removed and exchanged with the implants.  Pete and I will be there at 6 am and I will allow him to guest blog once more with the updates.  This is far easier surgery than the last and I get to have a date with Dr. McSmarty.  What a way to start a week and MERRY CHRISTMAS to me...new boobies!!!

Don't Worry. Be Happy.

Once you've had a cancer diagnosis and you go through SURGERY. And CHEMO. And  RADIATION. And POST CANCER DRUGS...there is a point when you ask yourself:

AM I DONE???

Am I CURED? In REMISSION? A SURVIVOR?

For so long after C1, I never felt done.  I was a ticking time bomb waiting for another lump, or bad blood work. Every headache was a brain tumor.  Fatigue was the cancer creeping back.  I was in a never ending game of baseball....9th inning, 3 balls, 2 strikes - and I was the BATTER UP.

When my head hit the pillow, I imagined how I would face a terminal diagnosis; I made plans for my children; and imagined my funeral service;  kept good records for the executor of my estate. Oh and I had fun too. I bought things I wanted. Visited amazing places.  And you would have never, ever, ever imagined this was my worry. But always, always, cancer was my constant companion.

I guess the bottom line is this:  I worried and it happened. Worry didn't change the outcome. Luckily for me, C2 wasn't the cancer of my worries.

I'm pretty sure with my family history, C3 isn't out of the question. But the way life is, a thousand shoes may drop and the unexpected will rock my world - my left field theory of life.

So I've decided to give up the worry.  And Be Happy. I hope you'll join me.

Three Days

The Komen 3 day (walking 60 miles over the course of 3 days) has been on my bucket list for quite a few years.  Because I was turning the ripe old age of 50 this year, I decided now was the time. I know the seasons are changing us because it didn't even require copious amounts of wine to get my partner in adventure Kathy to join me.  Dove, my awesome employee/business partner in Colorado was also in.  So we signed up with a group of my Komen buddies....an amazing group.

Yes, we signed up prior to the Big C2 diagnosis.  I was kind of on the fence about this event after I learned of my diagnosis, because I didn't know what kind of physical shape I was going to be in after ALL THAT. Through weird 6 degrees of separation, a member of our team's wife was going through C1 with the same dream team of doctors as me, and I took that as a sign to JUST DO IT!  So as soon as I could get off the recovery couch, I started training with my team.  We were blessed with a coach from my old employer, BNSF, and I felt ready.

What an experience.

The opening ceremonies were a tribute to the people we lost to breast cancer. Amidst the shivering in the cold that day, I had tears streaming down my face but also a fire and determination to finish STRONG in honor of our fallen soldiers... in particular, my sister Lauri who lost the fight to breast cancer and my mom, Jeanne, who lost the fight to Ovarian cancer.  When it got tough to push through, I was reminded that NOTHING out on that course was as bad as chemotherapy or the pain of losing someone you loved.

The three days were magical. I finished and finished strong with my team members.  Luckily we had some "new material" on our team and made some fast friends for life.  I think Kathy and I have worn out our life histories with each other so much so that every now and then we will be SHOCKED by a piece of information about the other that we didn't know about.  I wish I had a $ for every mile we've walked together!

I finished with no injuries, no blisters, no soreness.  Just a stronger resolve to fight this fight.  All along the race course people cheered us on and thanked us for walking. In fact, coming back to reality was tough. I'm embarrassed to say that I asked my training class for a few high fives the next week - I was missing the love!!  Probably one of my favorite images on the race course was this one because this is why we do these crazy things:

The event was a class act, but NO we didn't sleep in the tents. We opted for camp Crowne Plaza instead (thankfully - I needed a hot shower and soft bed to place my heavy with expander chest into).  Collectively we raised over $7.1 million with this one event - 2600 walkers, 450 crew members and thousands of supporters.  I was proud to be a part of it.

And to my team....1, 2, 3 BOOBIES!!!  I LOVE YOU GUYS!!! Pictured here is Kathy, Teresa, Me, Dove, Jim, Renee and Allison. The seven of us walked into camp each day together, arm in arm, singing "we're off to see the Wizard." (Thanks Komen buddy Mark for catching this on film - he kept facebooking me - "where are you?" and we were right under his lens!)

To all my Komen supporters out there along the course - The Cheryl angels, Luke's Locker, Komen Dallas Staff and Volunteers...you make the cancer walk a whole lot easier!!  For those of us who have survived a breast cancer diagnosis, you cannot imagine the love and energy that was felt on the 3 day walk.  It will carry me for a long time to come.

Happy 11/11/11...hope you are feeling angels today.

PS...our team was interviewed by Channel 8 - you can check it out here:
 http://www.wfaa.com/news/Three-day-walk-raises-7-million-for-breast-cancer-research-133339253.html

Calling All Angels...

We just returned from my cousin's beautiful wedding and connecting with my Swain family relatives - a big Irish Catholic, fun and loving crowd (yes, we drink and get crazy!).  My mom loved family gatherings and felt it was always important to attend weddings, christenings, birthdays, graduations...and to celebrate with great joy - to sing, to dance, to laugh so hard you cried.

It was no surprise Angel Mom traveled with us. Day 1 we got into our Chicago B&B late. I turned on the light switch and right above it was this piece of art - it's a silk chinese print in a bamboo frame.  We had this SAME print in our home in Taiwan.  Does anyone in our family still have this? The proprietor acquired this piece at a church bazaar in the late 70s.  My mom probably got this one in the same time period during one of her travels through the orient when we lived there.  Funny, most of the art in the B&B was religious in nature or Greta Garbo - NOT oriental.

We had a great time at the wedding with the generations, including our old soul but youngest cousin. Thanks for being SWAIN GIRLS with us.  A cancer silver lining: always finding the joy in every occasion.  Meeting other fun people who are no longer strangers.  Hey you guys - if you are reading this YOU ARE FUN!!! Thanks for the shared laughter.

However, Mom wasn't done traveling with us.  We ate at a Thai Restaurant the night before we left.  This art work was hanging in the Thai restaurant:

One just like this hung in our home...a treasure from one of my mom's trips to Bangkok.  I now have it at my house!!

It seems like my mom always shows herself through art or music. My sister Lauri through the numbers 111 (I really meant to write this yesterday on 11/1/11 but the day got away from me...again). My Aunt saw 111 in several instances on her travels to the wedding. Lauri must have been traveling with them.  Mom was with us.

I was on Pandora looking for Jane Siberry's version of "Calling All Angels" to listen to while I wrote this post. It's not on their play list, so instead Sinead O'Connor's I'm Here to Mother You played.  It was appropriate.  Listen and enjoy...I think my mom is still here to mother me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lV7dRs3KYU0&feature=relmfu

You Matter More Than You Will Ever Know....

Mom and Me - First Flight

I had a busy day all mapped out today but it seemed the Universe had a different idea and I decided to follow.  All around me were strong feelings of presence by my mom and my sister.  Then my niece texted that she was having trouble starting her car and it took an hour and then she looked up and the car that was helping her was registered in 11/11 - it started.  Her mom, my sister, believed that when the numbers 111 were present it meant an angel was watching...and she used to see those numbers on cars. A LOT. 


Sometimes I feel that they are both saying LOOK! WE ARE HERE!  And today it made me sad because for all the cancer advocacy I do, and my desire to make a difference, what I really want to shout to the world is "MY MOM MATTERED. MY SISTER MATTERED." And I want them here to laugh with and hang out with, rather than mourn. Both met such untimely young cancer deaths.  My mom was 62. Two months before her ovarian cancer diagnosis, she beat every single one of us at tennis.  She didn't get to experience full retirement or the joy of becoming a great-grandmother.  


My sister was 43. She still had a 12 year old daughter at home and had two young daughters on the edge of becoming phenomenal women.  She didn't get to see her daughter bloom into a beautiful teenager driving for the first time;  the joy of a child's wedding or the birth of her first grandchild; or her entrepreneurial daughter make it big in the world (can I say it?...she is DJing  a party featuring a very famous HOT actor tonight!).

 Lauri and Me..Thanksgiving in HHI

So I hope when you see me on TV talking about early detection, or you read my blog, or you admire my strength in adversity - I want you to know that I got it from a wonderful role model and person - my Mom, Jeanne Swain - and from the inspiration of my sister Lauri Swain Campbell, my fellow breast cancer warrior.  I want you to know that I do it to honor their memories and to make their lives count.  I really believe they are with me and hope that by making a difference, I am making them proud.


Interestingly as I am writing this, niece #2 just called to share a story of a young friend, age 32, just diagnosed with breast cancer and she wants to help. HELLO LAURI - you are working hard today at getting all of us to see you. WE DO.


Sometimes the silver linings of cancer are tear stained...lives lost are tragic and sad; but lives that inspire others to make a difference turn that sadness into a brilliant burst of graceful giving. My wish is that every one of you reading this will inspire or be inspired by someone else to make a difference.


“The world is not interested in what we do for a living. What they are interested in is what we have to offer freely - hope, strength, love and the power to make a difference! ” Sasha Azevedo (with thanks to Robin Rice for that quote today - yes Mom, I am listening).

Sick and Tired of PINK?

October is breast cancer awareness month...what? You didn't know that?  It's kind of hard to miss. I recently heard someone talk about feeling sorry for the other cancers that are not pink.  I hear lots of people talking about "pink fatigue" and being "tired" of pink. ME TOO!!  It's not even my color.  I wish pink was just a color again.  Though here I am going SURVIVOR GIRL PINK. IN MY HAIR!

WHY?

Pink isn't just a color - it's a symbol and a visual reminder to talk about the previously unspeakable topics of "cancer" and "breasts" in the same sentence.  Did you know that when Nancy Brinker held her first race for the cure, 29 years ago in Dallas, TX (SHOUT OUT) the Dallas Morning News covered the event but could not write the word breast in print.  29 years ago - that is in most of our lifetimes.  She writes in her book "Promise Me" about asking companies for their support of the cause and being turned down because they didn't want to be associated with cancer.

Where would we be if one woman's promise to a sister didn't send her on a crusade to pink the world so somebody, anybody would take notice of this disease?  Let's face it, women's health hasn't always been at the forefront of medical breakthroughs.

So all this pink...it's a big, bold statement of how far we have come!  Big burly football men are even sporting it, which is causing little boys to start wearing it and most of all, PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT IT.  It's only when we talk and share that action happens...and we're not there yet but I have to believe we are on the edge of figuring this cancer thing out. And if the advances are made in breast cancer or prostate cancer or ovarian cancer or lung cancer or leukemia...I have to believe it will unlock the mystery and help everyone.

I hope that all this pink makes every woman, man and child going through this experience know they are not alone. ...and that one day, we will figure this thing out and say "remember when people got breast cancer."

50/50

Even though the movie "50/50" was a little close to home and a bit hard to watch at times - there were smiles, tears and a lot of REAL in this movie. I highly recommend it. Seth Rogen is Seth Rogen - at times his humor is crude but this movie does a great job of capturing what it's like not only for the person going through it but for the co-survivors.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMaJET7mD0M

I especially love the scene when he wants to talk about dying but no one will let him - assuring him he will "be ok." A complete melt down.  It reminded me of my own blog on said subject.

http://terrisilverlinings.blogspot.com/2011/09/l-word.html

Is anyone else following "The Big C" on Showtime?  This is another great, great TV series that captures what it's like to go through a Cancer diagnosis.  The season closer was a shocker with a great message. Ah, it seems cancer has come fully out of the closet.  We can laugh about it. And people live!

Back to my own Big C...life has turned mainly back to normal. I am training for the Komen 3 day in November and completed a 15 mile walk Saturday. It was tiring but I felt good.  Don't worry my worrying relatives, I'm not pushing myself too hard. We did three five mile hikes with plenty of rest, water and nutrition.  It feels so good to be physically active and I thank my parents for instilling a life long love of physical activity.  Endorphins don't flow in me unless I am outside and physical!

Once again in life, I bought my first bra. I don't really think I need one for its intended purpose but there are certain clothes needing something underneath. Just saying. God Bless the salespeople at Nordstrom -  you can just tell them what you are looking for and why. They don't give you sad eyes or act like it's anything out of the normal...they just direct you to  2-3 and don't let you leave until you find one that works.  And for the first time in my life, I'm a B!!!  And I love that.  I've been able to go down a shirt size on top and many bra sizes.  I know I know. We always want what we don't have right and possibly TMI.

This experience reminded me of getting my first bra.  Dang, I didn't want that thing.  I was a Tom boy who loved running, biking, playing softball and tackle football with the boys in the neighborhood.  I didn't want anything that made me different than my friend boys.  And then bicycling down the road, Kathy V lifted up her top and showed me that she had one and it wasn't too bad.  After this show and tell, we decided to rub poison ivy on our faces so that we didn't have to go to school the next day.  It was a 100/0 proposition of turning out badly.

When you think of it, most days are 50/50.  The silver lining of cancer is making sure you use your days wisely.

Down on Main Street...

Life is getting back to the new normal..well sort of because it's October and that means all things Komen - speaking engagements; media events and gearing up for Race for the Cure in Dallas.  Our team, Support the War in My Rack (aren't we clever?) is a group of strong warriors trying to make a difference. Last year as a team we raised $25,000 - this year we are shooting for $31,000 and are well on our way to doing so.  We had a kick ass fund raising event last Saturday that raised over $10,000. Tension was high - amid our regular jobs, this group of volunteers pulled together an unbelievably successful, well attended, well run event !  I was proud to be one of us  - thank you amazing SGK team and thank you to all of you who have supported us with all kinds of fabulous donations.

(SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION: WE STILL HAVE VERY COOL T-SHIRTS FOR SALE: $25 - just email me Terri@thehrconsultant.net for more details but they look like this. Props to our amazing team member Lori who pulls out a great shirt every year.)

(OH AND THE BEST PART: The back of the shirt!  The image is actually a little smaller and located in the corner. Very cool.   LOOK! ONLY $25 SOFT ALTERNATIVE APPAREL TRUE TO SIZE T. SIZES: 2XS, XS, S, M, L, XL, 2XL, 3XL - while they last!):

My co-captain Glenna started off as the sister of a long time friend that I played soccer with.  When she received the C news a couple of years back (I'm sure it feels like a distant memory), I was her mentor and shared my Dr. boyfriend with her.  This year, she mentored me back.  During this event, a friend I went to high school with in Taipei, Taiwan stopped by (I know that was like 30 something years ago -  can you believe we ended up living in the same metroplex!).  As it turned out, Glenna used to work with him!  I mean, how does this happen? All throughout the night, friends of friends turned out to be friends of friends that didn't know it.  In this great big world, it makes you stop and wonder about the people who come into your life; the path you take; the paths you cross and how we are part of the great big fabric of the world.

I feel so incredibly lucky to share the planet with these amazing people.


"Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it... All things are bound together. All things connect."

~  Chief Seattle 


SUPPORT THE WAR IN MY RACK!  http://dallas.info-komen.org/goto/TSwain

Letter to Liliana

Dear Lili: You probably won't remember this day we had together but it's one I won't forget. Only several weeks fresh from a second cancer diagnosis, having you close by to love, to hold, to laugh with was THE BEST MEDICINE EVER (as people in 2011 like to say).   Together with your daddy, your Uncle Richie, Cousin "Scara" and a few close friends, we did a photo shoot in the hot sun to tell the world that fighting cancer is important.  You and I also went to Fox TV and shot a TV commercial...you liked sitting in the news anchor's desk!  I hope you will always feel that important because you are.

As you grow up, you will come to know that on our side of the family, we have the hereditary BRACA gene mutation.  Hopefully this didn't pass on to you but there is a chance that it did.  So what does this mean for you? It doesn't mean a life of fear, but means that you should be healthy: eat your vegetables, exercise, take care of yourself, go to the doctor and make sure you get your regular check ups.  What does it mean for me? Fighting as hard as I can to see that you will grow up in a world that people will say, "Remember when people got breast cancer? Aren't you glad we figured out a way to cure that?"  I think of you every time I do my part to end it forever or help people going through it.

Grandchildren are absolutely the best silver lining of life.  I'm not so sure we'll find a cure in my lifetime, or your dad's lifetime, but I remain optimistic that you will know a world without breast cancer.

With love,
Grandma Terri

Meet Hope

Hope was conceived while recovering. As the piles of beautiful cards starting stacking up in Cancer II, against a mountain of them from Cancer I…I started to daydream about what I could do with all those powerful healing words and beautiful images.  It seemed a shame that they were stuffed in a drawer - well some were displayed, some were in a drawer, some were on my desk, some were on the counter...so many of them. THANK YOU!!!  No two alike - I loved them all. 

My niece Sara, a true artist, found an Etsy store that sold sculpted bodies and this became Hope’s canvas.

Generally, I’m the big picture thinker with the end result in mind, so it came to no surprise that I lassoed my besties ( thanks Kathy, Kristi and Lisa) into art day. I've been known to pay people to finish my projects but not this time!  The C card is still working.   After a little wine, some good music and a lot of laughs…Hope came to life.  To all of those who shared my journey with your funny cards, your inspirational messages, prayers, wisdom, tears and laughter…thank you.   Hope is filled with you.

She's not quite finished yet...still have some work to do to on her face and bling to add.  She will be entered into our Art for the Cure/Silent Auction event on October 1 in Grapevine.  Please come bid on her and if you have something you'd like to donate for the auction, let me know ASAP.  All proceeds benefit putting an end to breast cancer forever and assisting women in our community with education, screening and treatment.

Silver lining: Craft day with my friends - feels like I'm a kid again!  Reading through all the love again... can you find your card or words of encouragement on Hope?  I have to say my favorite image on hope were words from my sister Lauri on a card when Cancer I was finished - it said simply THE END. Love, Lauri. Can you find it?

Were you expecting gold? For a long time I was...

Too many people miss the silver lining because they're expecting gold. Maurice Setter

The L Word

I was going to call this post the D word...but changed my mind. But I really want to talk about the D word. First.  So I'm going to because well, this is my blog and I can die if I want to?

Anyone who has ever heard the C word, automatically jumps to the D word, because THE BIG C is a disease that takes people's lives - otherwise it would be the little C or we would just say cancer.  Having lost a mom and sister way too young to cancer = I know.  Many people don't even  like saying the word cancer because it is too scary. How's your health seems so much nicer than how's your cancer going?

Back me up my survivor sisters and brothers...didn't a diagnosis of cancer cause you to face your mortality? Think about your children without a parent or your grandchildren without you? Make sure your life insurance policy was up to date? That you have a will or have it updated? And then there's the conversations you want to have...but nobody will.  If you mention, "if I die...." you are instantly cut off with "you're not going to die. I don't want to talk about this." Here's a news flash - unless you've got some immortal super powers, we are all going to die. If we want to have a conversation about it, please let us.  We'll fight to live, but we've got to have that base covered. Just in case.

So here are my D wishes for all of you who wouldn't let me talk about it (and here's hoping it's way in the future!) :  no sad funeral - use some of my dwindling 401K savings for a party and remember the good times.  Play good music - better yet hire a band.  If the market comes back strong, maybe Dave Grohl or Adam Duritz will recognize my long time crushes and come play.  Cremate me and then when any of you are going any place really cool, take a little bit of me with you. Then scatter me somewhere amazing.  And laugh...don't cry. I have lived an amazing life.  For my children...you'll probably inherit some money - use it for experiences rather than things; cherish your own children and teach them well.  Give back to the world and to others.  Sister, go to Miraval - every year.  Please friends, come rescue a piece of my funky art so that you will have something to remember me by (Pete, pick your favorites but please let them go to good homes).

OK NOW BACK TO THE L WORD!

I know I've dodged the C bullet twice (see last post).  If there is anything that a potentially life saving disease teaches you - it is this.  LIVE and LOVE FULLY.  If you want to go to Italy, go. Don't wait until you retire. Figure out a way to do it.  If you want to learn a new musical instrument, do it. Now. If you hate your job, quit.  Find something better to do.  If you're in a toxic relationship - get out of it.  Rid yourself of negative people. Surround yourself with things and people you love. Let them know how much you love them. Cancer was a wake up call for me to L large - to help others, to travel, to enjoy my family and friends and BUY THE SHOES!

As we approach the anniversary of that horrific day in September...it is a time to remember that life doesn't give us any guarantees.  C1 for me was four months after this happened.  Chemotherapy was brutal but thinking of people burning or jumping from fiery buildings put life in perspective.

Here's hoping you are enjoying your L as much as I am enjoying mine!!

The stars look very different today...

Exactly two months ago I had my body-altering surgery.  Today I had a follow up visit with CONFIRMED Dr. McSmarty* and my oncologist Dr. B.  Best news: I am cleared to start exercising again, lifting again and swimming when one tiny part is healed!!!  Right on time with the weather turning to a chilly 80 something!!!  YAY YAY YAY...  My exchange surgery to get the implants will happen on December 12, 7 am.  Recovery time should only be a week or so.

Dr. Blum has been my oncologist for 10 years now.  We kind of have a love/lesser love kind of relationship.  I believe that I am Major Tom and she is Ground Control.  But she wants to be Major Tom...probably because of all those extra years in medical school.   She spent a lot of time with me today and I will say I love her because she is VERY SMART. She is the director of the genetic breast cancer oncology stuff and she has been personally interested in me and my family history for quite some time.  She said that my recent diagnosis was presented in their breast symposium and it had the attention of many in the department.

Sometimes she and I have lesser love because she has been SO ADAMANT that with my family history, I should have gotten rid of the girls a long time ago. Every visit was a push for the  just-in-case-double-mastectomy.  Every visit I would tell her no.  She used all kinds of persuasion techniques: new breasts, less chance of recurrence, perky breasts, less chance of recurrence, family history, less chance of recurrence... I just wasn't ready to lop off body parts just in case. She would even say things like "Do you want to get breast cancer again?"  And of course I would tell her yes, it's such a character building experience just so that I could be snarky Major Tom.   So today our conversation went sort of like this:

Dr. B: I hate to be the one that says I told you so, but....I TOLD YOU SO.  I don't know why you didn't get rid of your breasts years earlier and save yourself all this trouble.

Dr. B: You know you dodged a big bullet?

Dr. B: I was watching for your pathology results and I want you to know that I was doing the HAPPY DANCE when I found out your results (I guess she was in the NO NODE CHANTING TOO!).  I was ecstatic. I was so happy for you. INSERT ACTUAL HUG HERE, (which is a really big deal because she's not really the warm and fuzzy type but she is REALLY SMART).  I mean, no one wants to go through chemotherapy again, it's awful, that's why I wanted you to have them removed.  I'm so glad you don't have to do chemotherapy.

ME (you notice I don't get a whole lot in here): and this from someone who's never had chemotherapy.

Dr. B: Well, I do go through it vicariously (note to Dr. Blum: it's NOT the same, but OK you do get to see the wreckage from chemo every day of your professional life).

Dr. B: Why did you take so long to have your surgery - you were diagnosed in April and had it in July?

ME:  I was interviewing plastic surgeons.  Again, Major Tom here....

Then we had a lot of talk about plastic surgeons and choosing doctors, and she said she felt special that I had picked her (I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't interview oncologists - I love Dr. Grant and he made the referral).  She concurred that Dr. McSmarty* was an amazing Plastic Surgeon and SMART TOO!  Did I mention that we love our ground control to be smart?

Again, I feel so fortunate that I have been diligent about my health; have a great health care team and the resources to access them.  Think I'll go float in my tin can.

In case you missed it, here is my two minutes of local fame.
http://www.myfoxdfw.com/dpp/news/fox_4_features/hometown_heroes/Hometown-Hero-Terri-Swain