*Author’s note: This entry was written in December, but I have waited until now to post it out of respect for my friend’s privacy.

Well – goddamn it! I am back at Northeast Georgia Cancer Care today. This time I am here with a dear friend, waiting for her to see the doctor. I am pissed off! I had just taken a breath and here it is again at my door. When she told me, I was in shock – still am. I feel like someone sucker-punched me right in the gut.

We are here because they suspect she has leukemia. So, we start the cancer conveyor belt again. It is hard to watch her being taken to the lab for vitals and blood work. CANCER SUCKS!!!!!! We can send people into space . . . we have technology that was only dreamed of when I was child . . . but we still don’t have a cure for cancer. It is time!

I think I am more nervous today than when I was here as a patient. It is so hard to watch someone you truly love have to face this bullshit. When you are at the Cancer Center, you had better be prepared to wait. I walked down the hall just now; all the rooms are full of patients but I didn’t see any of the doctors.

My friend just said, “Good lord, just give me chemo and let me go home. They make you wait so long you don’t even care anymore.” And of course they are playing the fucking Christmas music again. Pure torture, I tell you. Our appointment was for 9:15. It is 10:30, and we still have not seen the doctor. Whenever I have an appointment, my friend Johnny asks, “Is it the four-hour appointment?” – meaning a Cancer Care appointment.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” sings Bing Crosby. Right!!!! Then, “Have a holly jolly Christmas this year.” If I had a gun I would blow the damn speakers out of the ceiling. They continue torturing us with the music and all of the room doors decorated with a holiday theme. I guess maybe it is a way to keep your spirits up when you work in a place with so much sadness. As I’ve said before, the people at Cancer Care are wonderful – I just wish there was no reason for a place like this to exist.

We finally see the doctor, and she is wonderful. She is very kind and answers all our questions. The doctor suspects Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia (CLL). We will wait for the results of one final blood test for confirmation and to determine staging and treatment. One day at a time – we will not get the results until the 30^th. It is hard trying to live with this constantly pressing on my mind.

During my own diagnosis and treatment, this friend was amazing, walking with me every step of the way. I will do the same for her. She is so funny; the day she called to tell me her doctor suspected cancer, she said, “But I am not writing a blog and I am not wearing that wig!” We both laughed, but after we hung up tears streamed from my eyes. I am heartbroken.

My armor is a little too big for her to wear. She is a tiny woman, so I guess we will need it adjusted and sized perfectly so she will be ready to take it into battle. I am so grateful that she showed me by example how to be a kind, loving caregiver. Now that our roles are reversed, I only pray that I can care for her the way she did for me.

So – please keep her in your thoughts and in your hearts. You never know what life has in store for you. Enjoy each moment – tell the people who are important to you that you love them – breathe deeply and calmly and take the next step.

I suppose you remember how last year began: Even before the cancer diagnosis, the year had already started off on the wrong foot. The relationship I was in at the beginning of 2013 quickly turned to hell, and I was still reeling from that when the other shoe dropped. The doctor called and asked, “Is this a good time?” You know most of the rest since you have been following along with me on this journey. But now it is time for me to let you know where I am with that broken relationship.

Sometimes it takes the heart and the head a while to get on the same page. But guess what? I think that time has come. It is funny how you can lie to yourself and trick yourself into believing things that aren’t true. I made a mistake – a big one – and I knew it the whole time. I had even discussed this fact with my therapist and my dear friend Kim. But I convinced myself – talked myself into something that I knew was not right for me.

There are a few lines in the song, “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Gotye that I love.

“Told myself that you were right for me.
But felt so lonely in your company.”
And
“Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I’d done.”

This is the way I felt from the very beginning. So why did I keep pushing it? I think I truly didn’t think very much of myself. Once the cancer diagnosis came and I realized how precious life is, I started to feel like my life is important and that I need to take care of myself and stop taking care of others. Life is way too short to be with someone who does not value you as a partner or even as a person.

It has been almost a year since this relationship ended and I can say that I was truly lucky to get out of it with no more damage than I had. I am looking to 2014 as a year of renewed personal growth and a year of continuing this journey to my new self. If that journey happens to include someone special that will be great, but if not, I am okay with that also. I really am starting to enjoy my own company!

Wow – another Christmas come and gone. It’s hard to believe the difference in my life from last Christmas to this one. It almost seems that I have lived a whole lifetime in this very short period of time. At times the ups and downs of the year seemed never-ending. As this year draws to a close, I look back over it with extreme gratitude.

As you recall, 2013 did not start out as my year, and as the months passed the hits just kept coming. But as I sit here tonight, I realize that it was the year of my new beginning. The year life finally got my attention. Getting kicked in the shin with pointy-toed cowboy boots can be painful, no question. But through the pain my life seemed to blossom.

I have gained so much this year it is hard for me to hold it all inside. I have deepened some relationships and I have formed wonderful new friendships. I have met people I would never have met had it not been for this journey through breast cancer. I have learned the meaning of true friendship and unconditional love. I have watched as people helped and supported me when I was too sick to even stand up. I have met people who were fighting their battle at the same time I was fighting mine. Those people have made such a tremendous difference in my life; to know them and hear their stories helped me more than they will ever know.

Last Saturday I received a wonderful gift. I was doing some Christmas shopping with Lorene when I heard someone call my name. I stopped and turned around, and there stood Mary Ann. We were always together in the same room during chemo, and she was always so supportive and so encouraging. It was so good to see her standing there in the middle of the store. We had a wonderful time updating each other on our progress. I cannot tell you how many times I have thought of her since finishing chemo. We both have a little bit of hair now and she wasn’t wearing her cap, so when I first saw her I recognized her face but the hair kind of threw me. You sit there and battle right beside these people, but after you’re done you have no idea how their battle turned out. So to see her well and healthy right before Christmas was truly a welcome surprise.

It is amazing how people appear in our lives at just the right moments. That happened so many times for me this year that I believe it has to be more than just pure chance. I got to know Janet at just the right time – she was there when I needed someone not only to listen, but also to kick me in the ass. Kim rescued me when my heart was broken and rescued my goats when the dogs attacked them. Mary Ann, Regina, and Beth all appeared exactly when I needed them most and helped me get through treatment. Beth and Diane have continued to encourage me to keep writing and assure me that I do have something to say.

My sister Martha Gail called every single day during my treatment, and just knowing she was supporting me meant the world to me. I had friends and family who had walked this path before me and their willingness to share their stories with me inspired me to keep fighting. Thanks, Sandy, Mary Dee, and Nancy Pat.

Lorene, Sylvia, and Cheryl proved to me over and over again what true love really is. These three are all exes of mine, but in reality these relationships never ended. They cooked, cleaned, and cared for me like the relationships had never changed. We all sat together the night before my lumpectomy and they reassured me that what was important was that I get better. I started to cry that night when I tried to tell them how much they meant to me. I am teary-eyed trying to write about their love and kindness even now. I hope they know. I hope all of you know.

I named just a few people but there are many more I did not name here. Please know that your encouragement, support, love, and kindness made 2013 the year this warrior battled her way into a new life.

Author’s note: I guess you noticed that this post is dated August 2013 and here it is January 2014–so what gives? When I first wrote this post, I was so upset that I didn’t want anyone to see it. People from work read this blog and I didn’t want them to know how disappointed I was with this wig.  I hope you will be able to laugh, because I am able to laugh about it now myself.

OMFG!!!!! Sylvia rode with me to Marietta today to pick up my hair (the dreadlock wig). It is horrible. I cannot believe it. It is hard for me to believe that anyone can think that thing looks good. I am so disappointed – all my long, beautiful hair wasted. I could have given my hair to Locks of Love. That is what I was going to do until I had the great idea to ask my friend about a dreadlock wig. She assured me that she could make one for me. Well, she made a wig all right – but I ain’t wearing it.

My friend told me she wore it last night and everyone said she looked like Bob Marley. Well, that might be okay for her because she is a beautiful black woman. Bob Marley is not the look this redneck country girl was looking for. What makes all this even worse is that my co-workers told my friend they would pay for it.

Now I have this thing living in the spare bedroom and I need to figure out what I am going to do. I will not be caught dead in it. I can’t wear it to work, so how am I going to explain that? And what do I say to my friend? Something like, “What did you do to my fucking hair?!”

Sylvia and Lorene are in total disbelief. Sylvia can’t believe anyone would think this wig looks good. Lorene thinks it looks like some of the critters I have stored in my freezer. Remember, I am a biologist, so I have a frozen collection of various small animals presented to me by my cats and dogs. It is funny how proud they are when they bring me some dead thing and drop it at my feet. And I – well, I could just cry. It is such a letdown. I felt so brave when I had my head shaved before chemo made all my hair fall out. I still feel good about that part, but the final result is so hard to take.

I will probably give the wig back to my friend. Maybe someone else will be able to enjoy it or use it in some way. I would have preferred to pay for the wig myself instead of having others pay for it. If I had paid for it, it would already be in the trash.

Sylvia, Lorene, and I have all laughed and made fun of the situation, but deep down inside I am hurt, sad, and very disappointed. I have looked so forward to getting this wig and now . . . not so much. Damn, there is the pointy-toed cowboy boot again.

Back at Northeast Georgia Cancer Care for a follow-up appointment with Dr. Nick. I can’t help it – I still get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I turn into the parking lot. I love the people here. Both receptionists greeted me and said, “It’s been a long time. How’ve you been?” One commented that I might need a comb soon. So it’s not the people or the building; I think it’s the fear of one day being back here for treatment. I am not going to live my life in fear, but I’m not going to lie: It is still in my mind.

The waiting room is fairly empty today but the parking lot is full, which means a lot of people are back in the treatment area getting chemo. It is so unreal being here and hearing Christmas music piped in. In fact, it is freaking me out to hear, “As the merry bells keep ringing . . . Happy Holidays to you!” Really???? I don’t know that I have ever really heard the music playing in here before, but today it is all I hear.

So now I’m thinking about the holidays and the meaning behind this time of year. I am grateful that I am cancer free and able to be healthy now. And then there is that music again. “Simply having a wonderful Christmas time . . . ” Thank God – Dr. Nick finally makes it to the exam room and I no longer hear the music.

Everything looks good. White blood cell count is still low but doesn’t concern him. I should just continue with all my follow-up appointments and mammograms. I will see him every six months for the next three years, then annually for the remaining seven. Then he looks at me and says, “Unless, God forbid, it comes back.” Yeah, exactly. God forbid.

I leave Cancer Care and head to Ike and Jane’s to meet Beth for lunch. We both had follow-up appointments today and it was a real treat to get to see her. It feels good to know that we will continue to support each other. I can look at her and say, “I am still scared,” and she knows exactly what I mean. She does not say, “You just need to be grateful,” or “It is not going to come back,” or anything else. She just understands, and that is comforting.

This year has been a tough one for me but it is drawing to a close. I am looking forward to a new year and am excited about the possibilities. I have learned so much this year, and I thank you for letting me share this journey with you. You watched me don my armor and battle; then you picked me up, repaired my armor, and gave me the strength to keep fighting.

I know I have said this before, but it bears repeating. I would not wish this disease on anyone, but it has been a true blessing for me. I have learned lessons that only an experience like this can teach you. I have gained friends I never would have known. This experience has already taken me to places I have never been before, and I believe this is just the beginning.

All of you are amazing – your support has been unending. Thank you for giving me wings to fly! Love you all!