The Devil Who Lurks Among Us

Frustration running deep with me lately. Mean people still suck. Nice people around me are being manipulated and pushed around by mean people. I am watching nice people get hurt and made to feel powerless. I also am upset with the legal system which is helping to push around these nice people. Bad things are happening to good people. Its sick.

It isn't happening directly to me thank God, but these nice people are dear to me and other careless evil people who must have no faith or fear of God are relentless and trying to tear my nice-people friends down.

How do they sleep at night? What do they say to themselves as they lie in bed in the quiet dark? Good job! That'll teach her/him! I am justified in my behavior today. I am proud of myself! Nighty-night.

How do people become this way? What pain and suffering do they blame for their pitiful lives and how they are living them? They must have never been taught right from wrong, or they grew up learning that hurting others to help oneself is acceptable behavior. Did they have role models who took target practice at other weaker people around them? I imagine that at some point they said, "Fuck It" and decided they were looking out for #1, at all costs.

And these mean people I know have involved their children in their ugly lives. The kids are either disgusted by their parents' behaviors and its causing a rift, or they are learning how to be mean to people THEY know. Either way it's creating more awfulness.

You would think the mean people would eventually get what's coming to them. Karma anyone? But it seems if you learn to lie convincingly, you can convince law enforcement and the courts system to believe your lies and to mistrust the good people. The legal system lets both sides talk and whomever is the least nervous or anxious or upset probably comes across more in control and cool, and a judge can choose to believe that person, the closet asshole, over the good person who sits stunned they are in a courtroom defending their every innocent action.

Good people aren't good liars! Nice people go through life doing the best they can with what is laid before them and never have time or the idea to cover up, or cheat, or lie to get ahead. Good people believe in God or answering to a higher power. They have fear of screwing up and breaking rules and try not to do anything to hurt others. When someone accuses them of doing wrong a good person is blindsided and in shock. They don't immediately go into thinking up their excuses or legal strategies because they are still trying to figure out what went wrong.

I've lost faith in basic humanity lately watching good people be dragged down to the level of these other evil souls. I'm damn sick of it. Something good needs to happen for these people.

With all my angst, I still have faith enough to pray for the good guys. That's because I count myself as one of them.

Someone Like You...sing it Adele

I had a future I thought I wanted and it turns out it didn't want me. Now someone else is getting that future. I think she doesn't know I had it first, but then that's the great thing about starting over. A person can reinvent himself and tell only the stories to the next person that sheds him in a favorable light. Its a bit of a snowjob, but we all do it. Why would anyone tell a new love how shitty the last person thought they were?

Romeo is getting married. In a month from now. Our last personal contact was this past February at the gym, where we talked briefly and very superficially about generic stuff. Before that it had been almost a year since I'd seen him. Almost a year since we'd had any contact at all.

In that year I spent a lot of time wondering what went wrong with us. Feeling anger that he failed me. Feeling stupid that I took longer than him to get over us. I wrote then about it hitting me suddenly on our last dinner out together that he wasn't into me anymore. That was just in March of 2010. And now, a year and a half later, he's ready to MARRY someone.

To refresh anyone's memory who forgot the Romeo-and-me story, we dated for three years. In that last year it became increasingly obvious (although not fast enough) that he wasn't digging my lifestyle-- kids, dogs, suburbs, lack of wanting babies, etc. He never came out and told me this, but I was unhappy a lot of the time with his unwillingness to bend in any way toward anything in my life. I had to be the one to verbalize all the mismatches happening between us and basically walk away when he couldn't come up with a good excuse or promise to compromise. He let me shut the door, but he was all but out of it already.

I'm quite sure he's left that bit of shameful behavior out of his retelling of his "ex" story to his new fiancee. If she even knows there was an "ex" or to what extent there was one. How DO you explain you've only been broken up with your ex for a few months when you meet the love of your life? In the information I've gleaned from friends, he met her during or shortly after our last few encounters. I believe now that he told me about her in a last phone conversation and email, and painted it as if it was a very new, but exciting beginning with a great woman.

Who tells something like that to their very recently broken-up with ex girlfriend?

I labeled him "Romeo" in a sarcastic and ironic vein...he's not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to women. I now think he really believed we were "friends" by then and I would be happy at his news.

No happier then than I am now to hear that by this past February, only one year after our ski trip together, he was asking for her hand in marriage. Atop a ski slope he and I had skied together several times. Uh, yeah.

It was like he paused the video, photoshopped me OUT, and inserted her into the picture, then hit "play" again. She has a similar education level as me, similar age, similar physical features. How lucky for him that he found this specimen, and she'd never been married and had no pesky children to deal with!! What a lucky guy he is!

Hearing this news has brought back my anger. Lil bit. If he knew in ONE year she was the one he'd like to grow old with, then he knew in our first year that I was NOT. He's no spring chicken and if it felt right he probably thought he'd better jump on it, especially if he wants those perfect children he claimed he'd might like to have. He's gotta get crackin'.

But think, if he'd cut me loose earlier, he'd already have multiple OCD, anal-retentive, seen-but-not-heard little robots sitting mute in a corner by now. Tsk, tsk (or tick-tock) he shoulda thought of that.

Bitter much?

I am blessed this is not me getting engaged on a mountain and married in a church across town. Oh wait, I wouldn't be getting married in a church because I'm divorced. Whew, his sweet Catholic parents dodged a bullet there! I bet they are so happy with the new girl...what's her name again?

I am eternally grateful that I figured him out and cut him loose in time for him to meet this reportedly lovely (yet clueless) woman, and that I was able to find a REAL man who values me as a woman, a friend, AND a mother. He accepts me for what I am RIGHT NOW. Flaws and baggage and all.

No, I'm not ready to jump into marriage even though I know I have a great relationship that is just at a year old. Because I live in the real world and would like to enjoy this time where we still are learning and still are loving what we are learning about each other. I don't feel the need to latch on to a marrige certificate just yet and neither does Sinatra. So much of our lives are on the same page. I'm not trying to change my life to fit into his and although his life will be changing to be near me, he will still have his own journey to begin before we decide to merge. Merge, not marriage...but it could come.

It feels nice to not have to worry about it for now. I feel more real with him than I've ever felt with anyone. If I'd gotten my way a few years ago, nothing would be real anymore. This little bump in the road of dealing with the fact I wasn't chosen by someone who wasn't "the one" will fade away soon, and I won't be wasting any more time.

I'm in my happy place, where I belong.

Up Next-- Phase 3 of Whipping Cancer's Ass

Diagnosis- Check.

Hysteria- Check.

Surgery- Check.

'Nother Surgery- Check.

Radiation- Check!

Yep, I rang the bell!

After surgery and radiation the third part of treatment for DCIS is hormone therapy. Pills. For 5 years. They call it "insurance". Reducing my estrogen and progesterone levels since they were tested as positive receptors, meaning my levels are prone to creating cancer cells.

Well, I have some thoughts on hormone therapy changing my body. I've had these hormone levels for over 40 years and I think they have made me competitive, strong, and healthy, as in not apt to getting common illnesses (other than cancer). I was able to conceive my children without effort and recovered after their births quickly. I have a healthy mental state and don't flucuate moods very often.

Now I do admit my hormones may have snuck in some not so nice attributes too. Wicked PMS and periods in the past (but not since my second was born and I got an IUD), quick-to-anger at times (road rage anyone?), and bloating and water-retention at the even mention of salt or heat.

Hormone of choice: Tamoxifen. I'm still learning about the side effects of Tamoxifen, which is most commonly prescribed for premenopausal breast cancer patients:

Bone pain, constipation, coughing, hot flashes, muscle pain, nausea, tiredness, vaginal discharge, weight loss

Ok, the only thing in that list that I light up at is "weight loss". Awesome! But knowing my bloating tendencies, I'll gain. Yep, that will be me. I have read many patient reviews on several websites and no one mentions having lost weight, on the contrary, most have said they'd gained weight, and almost all said they were generally miserable on the meds. Headaches, leg cramps, day and night sweats were most often mentioned. Not my idea of tolerable side effects. We are talking quality of life here.

There is an increased incidence of uterine cancer with Tamoxifen. Geez Louise, that terrifies me. Reduce breast cancer recurrence, increase uterine cancer chances. How do I make that choice? This doesn't feel like insurance. Now we are talking fighting for life here.

So I keep searching. I am a believer in alternative medicine, like herbs, and in finding healthy foods that cause similar body reactions to the meds, but from the natural benefits of vegetables and fruits and beans and grains. I have been to a Chinese doctor for acupuncture in the past for knee pain, and am not afraid to go again. He prescribes little bottles of strange-smelling tablets based on your medical needs. I am not sure if trying this first wouldn't be a good idea.

I feel I need take a few weeks to get my normal energy back on track, and the extra few pounds that have crept on since radiation gone, and then I will open a new can of worms and begin whatever medication I decide to use. To protect myself for the many years of life I have left while I enjoy activities with my children and a relationship with my boyfriend and keeping up my workouts with my friends.

If my lifestyle changes so that I lose my favorite things in life, which are directly tied to my stamina and personality, then I've already lost the battle.

I realize breast cancer should change your life in some ways, but I am not convinced prescription medication is the way to go for now. I want my life back. The one I had before all of this. I'll go to the doctor check-ups and do the mammograms religiously and even watch what I eat and drink. But I need more convincing on the pharmaceutical aspect of my plan.

Traveling with the Good-Time Club....Priceless Memories

And now a break from our regularly scheduled cancer update...

Vacation time! I have been so lucky in the last years to have some great travel companions and to have gone to some spectacular spots. I decided somewhere in my late 30s, after my kids have gotten older and I finally settled into my divorce-status, I was going to see new places.

All through my marriage our only outings were to local waterparks or pools or to places my ex would play softball, and those were only within driving distance. Lafayette, Louisiana may have been balmy, but not in a good way. Most of the time I just opted to stay home with the kids to save money or out of lack of interest in watching yet another hot, sweaty softball game where the beer-drinking was more a priority than the game.

I hit age 36 and off I went. Those first few years were ski trips where I witnessed the beautiful outdoors in a new way, from the top of grand mountains with nature as far as the eye could see. After living a lifetime in mostly flat Texas, I could not get enough. I have been lucky enough to ski in most of the western states.

These trips have allowed me to meet some really fun new people, who appreciate the beauty afforded by skiing as much as I do. And I've reconnected with old friends from high school (thanks again Facebook) and found our love of travel and fun has brought us to new levels of friendship we never knew back in our schooldays.

I have also been lucky to have skied with friends who were either on my ski level or patient enough to help me improve. Now I feel I could keep up with most skiers on most slopes. This past winter in Tahoe and Taos I had the best group of same-level, slope-hungry skiers who tirelessly jumped on the lifts as they opened and skied until closing time without complaint. Even my kids have become happy little ski bunnies who loved every minute of our spring break trip.

I was able to join some of my favorite work people on trips to Vegas and Costa Rica, as well as other random US cities for conferences. Secretly my boss joins us only when he gets a really good mix of co-workers together to do some of our best trips. For it being "a work thing" I've found my Happy Place several times along the way.

My most recent trip to Mexico was a blessing bestowed on me by my boyfriend Sinatra, during this summer of many not-so-great surprises. Playa Del Carmen was a paradise I didn't know existed until now, and I'm hooked for life. He got us set up in style at the all-inclusive Royal-Playa Resort and I felt very royal indeed. Again we were with our high school buddies, so our common history and our similar adult lives gave way to much teasing, inside jokes and general happy fun. No one drank too much (we've all learned this lesson by now) or got too much sun (as 40+ year olds, we are smart about this too) or shied away from any activities. It was THE BEST TIME.

Now my loving Sinatra and I have an exclusive club of tried-and-true traveling partners who will be the first ones we call when we need a few days off to visit sand or snow. As we age I don't see us adding museums or ruins to our trips, I just know we are a different kind of traveler-- we must see AND do. The only thing that may change is how often we'll go.

Treatments and Life Goes On

Day 20 of radiation is tomorrow. My treated skin is no longer tender! It's downright raw. And red. And getting angrier. Not good. Fatigue is becoming more obvious, but I still have managed to get in a few workouts since I have a triathlon this Sunday. It will be my last of the year most likely and I'm mainly doing it to participate with and support my running group, who are all doing the race as well. They are a fun bunch and are very supportive of me. Wouldn't bother going for just anyone.

The girls have been busy with friends all week and are letting me have some rest time. That would be my children, those girls who are enjoying their summer. My other two girls, the dogs, have no interest whatsoever in letting me rest. They demand their walks no matter how tired I am. They choose not to notice I'm laying on the couch with heavy eyelids. So off we go. When I try to turn back toward the house and its at a point shorter than the day before, they resist. Damn them for being so smart.


I am glad for this blog because people ask me "How are you doing?" but I find it hard to explain how I am. I wonder do they really want the answer? Are they just asking to be polite? Its kinda boring to say I'm tired and irritated, so I just say "I'm doing fine".

This isn't the worst thing I could go through. Chemo is MUCH worse but I know brave souls who've made it through that. I have a new friend who I met through her brother who's in my running group who just finished chemo and now will start radiation. All this after a mastectomy. I have another friend who's 2 year old daughter has a degenerative disease and is in constant danger of even a headcold being fatal. She is equally amazing.

I'm just going in for a 2 minute treatment for 33 days. Nothing really to complain about. I am grateful for that. Now I'll just wait for the end of treatment and get back to REALLY being "fine".

Day 10 of Radiation...23 to go.

10 Days in and I'm plowing through this Thing. I have swelling and a dull ache on that side, which is weird, but not unlike how your breasts change when you are pregnant, only this is on only one of them. The fatigue is creeping up too, again like an early pregnancy. Unlike pregnancy, I'm not building milk to cause these symptoms, but the ducts are being irradiated to prevent the bad stuff from getting together and growing into more breast cancer.

I'm releasing myself to it when I can, the fatigue. I have a hard time laying around, my lifestyle has never supported it. Luckily, it's summer. Its 100 degrees outside until 8pm. We have no after-work obligations. This all lends itself to coming home from work and laying down. I don't usually sleep, but I veg. The kids have waited all day for me to get home, but they are stir-crazy enough inside all day that they burst outside to play with their friends. And then, I have peace. I rest, they play, and then I get up and do something about dinner or walk the dogs with them. Its working out.

The radiation procedure is fast. Putting on my gown before and getting dressed after are 5 times longer than the radiation itself. I lay on the table, they move me around to line up with the markings on my ribs and chest and start the machine. It moves around and hovers from side to side of me and in about 2 minutes its done. I grab my coffee from the waiting room on the way out and I'm off to work.

I have to do this because it is a step in my recovery and I am serious about beating breast cancer. I have to do it whether the laundry needs done, or the dogs need walked, or the kids are fighting, or my patients at work must come into the office RIGHT NOW, or I need a workout to get ready for a race.

I make time for all of it, because all of it is important.

Oncology 101

Sitting in the oncologist's office waiting room, I'm trying to think of it as any other doctor's appointment and just trying to read my book, but I can't stop looking at the others in the waiting room. I read the same sentence 8 times and didn't know what I'd read. I was emotional just sitting there among the other cancer patients.

They are mostly older, as in over 65, and they seem frail, and shuffle in and sit down with effort. One carrying a black bag over his shoulder; I've seen these before, and my assumption is they are chemo bags, although I have no clue as to how they work.

The receptionist knows them all by name. This is not their first appointment like it is mine.

As the "young one", I feel out of place. Almost an intruder. I'm not sick. I don't shuffle. My scar is hidden and small and healed. I am still strong and plan on staying that way.

The side door opens and a man walks out followed by several nurses and a few doctors, who are watching him. He is looking for something and they direct him to a plaque on the wall. He reads it out loud but to himself, quickly, so I can't hear what he says. Below the plaque is a large brass bell. He finishes reading and reaches down and rings the bell. Its really loud and then all the staff start to clap. I stare. I can tell the others around me in the waiting room understand what just happened. Then I know too. He's finished. His treatment is done. He happily leaves the office with a "see you in two weeks" to the receptionist.

This will be the first stop of my day for 33 treatments over 6 weeks. Every weekday I will come here first thing, undress and lay in a machine which will send a powerful xray over my left breast to irradiate any fiesty cancer cells which may be trying to expose themselves. After 10 minutes or so I will get dressed and go to work. The only evidence left behind are the 4 tiny dots they tattooed (instead of Sharpied which they said would wash off if I sweated or swam- uh no way) on my chest. These dots tell the machine where to line up every day. The skin will get irritated and dry and I must doctor it with lotion to keep it comfortable.

They are all very nice there in Oncology. The nurses I met were funny and matter-of-fact at the same time. They see lots of newbies like me. Its not just for women or breast cancer, this office sees all kinds of cancer. I got looks from those elderly like "poor thing". Not sure if that was because of my age or because I looked nervous. Or clueless.

Soon I'll look like I know what I'm doing. Soon that receptionist will know my name and I guess I will know hers. I will be there, get my treatments, live my life, and then ring the bell and move on.