I really know how to get myself into all kinds of trouble. Sometimes I just have to laugh at myself because I continue to do these crazy things. I love looking at Craigslist. I look at it several times a day. I always check out the Farm and Garden section because I like to look at all the animals advertised. I check out all the horses, goats, sheep, and anything else that seems interesting. I not only check the Athens area, I check Atlanta, Macon, Augusta, and Savannah. You never know when you might find just what you are looking for.

I am really not buying anything – I just like to look. I also like to send my friends (especially Kim and Janet) interesting animals that I find. They love animals just as much as I do, if not more.

Well, I almost got myself in big trouble last night.

I was checking out the Atlanta Craigslist when I found an ad for a $50 housebroken monkey. I sent it to Kim and Janet. I had a smile on my face when I sent it because I thought they would not believe that someone would put a monkey on Craigslist.

I got their responses this morning. Kim was upset about the poor monkey. But Janet sent a message saying she wanted me to go get the poor baby! Well, first – Janet’s daughter Chelsy hates monkeys. She has good reasons for this, because they had a monkey before. So I wasn’t sure if Janet was serious and I asked to make sure. Yes, I needed to rescue the monkey and she would pick it up when she gets back (in about seven days).

Okay . . . What in the hell am I going to do with a monkey for seven days?  I was in a little bit of a panic. I am not sure if the panic was about keeping the monkey for Janet or the thought of facing Chelsy. I dutifully started trying to contact the people about the damn monkey, but my mind was racing.

How will I get the monkey home?  Will my friend Cheryl go by and pick up the monkey for me and bring it to Athens?  Will the monkey freak out when it gets to my house and is greeted by all my dogs?  What do you do with a housebroken monkey?  Does it use the toilet?  Will I have to change diapers?  Where will it sleep?  What does it eat?  Oh my God – What have I done??????

Janet sent another text – “How is my monkey?”

I finally reached the guy with the ad by telephone. “I’m calling about the ad on Craigslist.”  He says, “It was a prank. My brother pulled a prank on me.”  I just start laughing and so does he. He wants to know if the ad is still up on the list – I am not sure because I found it late last night. He is a good sport and I tell him so.

I am a little relieved that I will not have a furry little house guest for the next seven days, and even more relieved that I will not have to face Chelsy. But now I have to let Janet know. She thought it might be a joke but that it was best to check it out.

These are my friends and I love them. Hearts as big as can be. I would have done it, too. I would have taken care of the monkey and given it to Janet, even though Chelsy would have cursed me.

You see life can always be interesting and adventuresome. I can just close my eyes and see it now: Me and the monkey hanging out, sitting on the couch together, checking out Craigslist to see what other interesting creatures we can talk Janet into getting!

I love my life and would not trade it for anyone else’s. I really mean that – even with the cancer diagnosis, chemo, radiation, and all the rest. Because my life is full of these wonderful people, people who have loved and supported me not just in the easy times, but through the hardest of times. You are the best – you make my life complete.

Thanks to all of you who are reading this blog and especially to you crazy animal-loving freaks like me. Love you!

I don’t really know what to do with my feelings anymore unless I put them down on paper . . . which really means type them on my laptop, but somehow that doesn’t sound as good. I am a little over a week out from my last chemo. My body is still tired and my stomach is not right, but overall I am feeling pretty good physically. But mentally and emotionally? Not so good.

I am ANGRY. This anger does not really have anything to do with my cancer diagnosis; I am not angry about having cancer. But nevertheless, I am ANGRY.  Since being diagnosed my life has completely changed. As I start to become a new me – the “me” I was always meant to be – this anger has come to the surface. For me this journey is about more than just battling and surviving cancer. It is about living. It is about dealing with issues that have kept me from being whole. It is about my journey – my adventure of finding me.

I am grateful to all of you who have been so supportive of me dealing with my breast cancer. I hope that you will continue to follow the blog because I am still battling – I still have radiation and hormone therapy to go. I realize that some of the subjects I am dealing with now may not seem to have anything to do with breast cancer, but the cancer is what started me on this journey.

Why I am so angry? I have spent my whole life taking care of other people – rescuing, protecting, supporting – because that is the role I filled in my family. I am good at it, too. But along the way I lost myself, until finally there was no me. After all these years in that role, all I know how to do is take care of others. But you know what?? I am worth taking care of, too. I am tired of trying to please everyone and trying to make everything okay for everyone else.

It is time for me to figure out what I want and to start taking care of myself.

How did I learn to be a rescuer and a protector? Before I get into all of that, first I must tell you that I love my family. As an adult, I look back and understand; I forgive and I accept that we are all human. We are all broken and we all struggle. Parents are not given an instruction manual and they, like the rest of us, make mistakes. But my experiences as a child have shaped my life, and I have continued long into adulthood to play my childhood role. The merry-go-round keeps spinning, but now, finally, it is time for me to jump off. I am 52 years old. Don’t you think it’s time?

I think it was easier for me to be a rescuer and protector because that meant I could focus on someone else. I would try to take care of my older sister emotionally and my younger sister both physically and emotionally. And it seemed to me that I even became my mother’s emotional support. As long as I could focus on them it did not seem like my little world was so crazy. It was easier just to be a caretaker, a lesson I guess I learned from my dad.

As a child, I learned that being outside in nature with my animals was the way I could find peace. No craziness could reach me out there. So I spent hours sitting in the feed trough behind the barn playing with the goats, horses, and cows. In my fantasy world, everything was bright and good. I talked to my animals and they comforted me. I think that is why I am still so drawn to nature.

As I write this, I am sitting in the swing on my front porch. I can see a green heron hunting on the other side of the pond. As I watch him move quietly through the grasses, I hear frogs hitting the water to avoid becoming dinner. I catch a glimpse of a hummingbird as it darts by on the way to the trumpet vine on the old pine snag near the front porch.

This is when I know that nature is still taking care of me; bringing me out of myself and forcing me to see the beauty that is right at my front door. I feel the anger lifting. I feel that there is good in the world. I know that I will find my way on this journey. As I have said before, life is not easy. It gives us all challenges to work through.

Okay, so I guess I am coming back to life. I have spent most of my time since the last chemo sleeping. I wake up, eat, then go back to sleep. It is almost like living in a dream world, except when you are awake you do not feel very good. The stomach is a little off and the head feels hazy. Everything inside of me feels like it is suspended in Jell-O. It feels almost like walking around in someone else’s body. I know the feelings and thoughts are mine but the physical appendages do not seem like they belong to me.

It is kind of a weird thing to have this part of the journey behind me. The last chemo – I have faced that demon for the last time. The body is just amazing. All the poisons, all the chemicals, and still it keeps bouncing back. A little slower each time, but it keeps bouncing back. It is my mind that I have to struggle with constantly. The physical body seems to repair itself and get ready for another day. It is the mental, emotional, and spiritual components I have the hardest time with.

One reason it is strange to have finished chemo is that now I am not in a battle. I am waiting. That probably sounds funny to most of you: What is she talking about . . . waiting?  During chemo, at least you feel like you are doing something active to defeat this beast. But now I wait, hoping and praying that the chemo did what it was suppose to do – rid the body of any stray cancer cells that might be lurking about, hidden from sight.

Some of you may think all I do is sit around looking for trouble. That isn’t true, but my mind is always thinking – studying – wandering – and yes, worrying. I feel as though I have this little “c” riding around on my shoulder. It is always there, not really bothersome, but still just there. It is sitting there smoking a cig, drinking coffee, reading the paper – but still it is there.

I am not cancer, but just like my sexuality and my alcoholism, it is part of who and what I am. Can’t you just imagine the two of them, little “c” and alcoholism, sitting on my shoulder, having a good old time whispering in my ear? I envision them high-fiving and chest bumping every time my mind starts off on one of those crazy thoughts.

For me, this has to be about living one day at a time. Looking too far into the future can be a scary thing. As I’ve said before, I cannot imagine hearing the words, “Your cancer has returned.” I cannot imagine what it would feel like to have to battle through this chemo again, to face this sickness. So it is important that I just stay right here where my body is today. I can do something about today. I can rest and repair my body. As I look at my armor, it really is in good repair. It came through all these battles in remarkable shape. It has done its job.

One of my nephews said to me, “Sissy, you have been a warrior all your life, not just now.” And I realized that he knows me better than many other people do. It is true: I have always been a warrior. Always fighting for my life, one way or the other. Fighting to be accepted for who I am; to not take the easy road; fighting, suffering, hurting. But always trying to be true to who I really am, deep in my core – to be true to what I believe in and to the things that matter to me. Not going along with the crowd, not just fitting in, because sometimes that is not who I am.

I am not perfect by any means. Maybe some of the things I have fought for were really not worth fighting for, but at that moment in time, they seemed worth the fight. I have fought for the right to live my life in a way that feels honest, kind, and caring to me. I think that is all I have ever really wanted – to be a good, kind, caring, loving being. Life is life and we all must accept and deal with whatever life sends our way. That is what I am trying to do with my writings. Find my way.

Thank you for reading my posts, and for your love and support.

Last chemo, baby! It feels good to know this will soon be behind me. I know I will need to recover from this treatment, so I’m not out of the woods yet. But I don’t have to come here for chemo again and that feels great!

I shared time in the treatment room with the true warrior and another woman. The new woman showed up right after the true warrior left. She was a beautiful black woman, slightly younger than me, with Stage IV ovarian cancer. She was there for her fourth of eight treatments and it was a struggle for her. It was very hard to watch. The nurses here are outstanding but they had to move her IV three or four times, and this woman hates needles. But they were finally able to get things worked out for her and she was finished before me.

It felt wonderful to finish the chemo. Everyone at the clinic was so excited for me. They knew it was my last chemo and helped me celebrate by cheering and congratulating me.

The armor was ready, and I thank each of you for repairing not only my armor but also my mind, spirit, and emotions.

I wore my Warrior shirt yesterday to help me remember that that is part of who I am: a warrior ready for battle. The battle is not over yet – we still have many more to face. But for now I can recover and tend to the wounds of this last chemo war.

It is the day after chemo now. Back to the clinic for my Neulasta injection and an appointment with my Survivorship counselor.

This day has been hard. I have been dizzy and tired most of the day. I really do not feel like eating, but I am trying. Lorene is here taking excellent care of my animals and me. She has made this journey so much easier for me. I am so blessed to have her and so many other amazing people in my life.

I will make it through this recovery period and then we will celebrate. We will have a “We Kicked Chemo in the Ass” party and I hope all of you will be able to make it, either in person or in spirit.

Love to all of you. I need to rest now. But I’m really looking forward to a great party!!!!!!

Tomorrow is my last chemo treatment. I am trying to figure out how I can be so excited yet dreading the same event. For some reason, I feel like the two emotions are totally disconnected from each other, yet I am feeling them both at the same time.

I was thinking today how my attitude has changed since the start of chemo. In the beginning, I felt totally in control. I decided when to shave my head instead of letting the chemo decide when it should fall out. But as the process has continued, I do not feel in control. I feel just like my friend Sandy said she felt when she walked this road. She felt like she was put on a conveyor belt and just rode it till they dropped her off at the end.

That is a little bit how I feel. Just riding the belt waiting for it to end. I am excited about finishing chemo tomorrow but I know that is not the end. There will be radiation and hormone treatment after chemo. The radiation will be five days a week for six weeks but the hormone treatment will go on for the next 10 years. Yes, you heard me: the next 10 years. Even though it is a pill that you take, it will be a constant reminder of this battle.

I was talking to Lorene and Sylvia tonight and I told them I cannot image what it must be like to hear the words “your cancer has returned.”  I am not projecting, just thinking. When I was struggling with making the decision about a lumpectomy or a mastectomy, I talked to my dear friend Holly. I told her I was afraid that by choosing the lumpectomy I would always fear that the cancer would come back. She chose to have the mastectomy and she said she did not think it would matter which one I chose; for her, the thought is always in the back of her mind. I think that will be true for me also. I will not live my life in fear – not by any means. I am going to live my life and enjoy my life to the fullest.

Life really is just a precious gift. None of us knows what will happen tomorrow, or in the next second, for that matter. I am fortunate to be alive right now. You are probably like me – you look back at some of the crazy things you did when you were a kid and think, It is a wonder that I’m still here. Then I think about my life before I got sober and again I am truly grateful to be alive.

So I hope I will be able to take the lessons I am learning now and continue to go forward with my new life.  A life that is full of an awareness I have never known before. A life where I remember how precious life truly is and how beautiful this world is.

It is strange, but since the very beginning of this journey I have felt like I am in the right place at the right time, and surrounded by just the right people. By “the right people” I mean all of you who are supporting me by reading this blog. The people at my job who have sent me food and donated leave to me. My wonderful friends (more like family) Sylvia, Lorene, Cheryl, and Kim, who have taken such good care of me. My beautiful friend Diane, who has encouraged me and supported me by editing these posts. My cancer survivor sisters – Nancy Pat, Sandy, Mary Dee, and Holly – who have already fought this battle and shared their stories with me. My sister Martha Gail, my mom, dad, brother-in-law, and nephews, and their families, who have given me the support I have needed to keep battling. All the fellow warriors I have met during treatment and whom I have had the honor of traveling with on this road. It is unbelievable how much support I have had during this time in my life. Thank you all.

I really like this quote and want to share it with you:

       “A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.”   – Lao Tzu

This is how I want to spend my life, because this is what we all are – travelers. We are so lucky to get to be here, to be alive, and all we have to do is show up for our lives. That is what it is time for me to do: show up and be ready for what comes next on this journey.

Thanks to all of you for preparing the armor for me. It is sitting on the chair, shiny and in excellent repair. I think it looks better than ever. I will don the armor in the morning and will be ready for battle. I am ready – mind, body, and spirit. Here we go.

Charge!

Well, it finally happened. I broke down tonight. Tears and sobbing and not able to stop.

I have tried to be strong. I have tried to keep going, but I am totally exhausted. This week has been so hard for me. I have tried to make it through without asking for help. But when Lorene came for a visit today, I just lost it. I feel like so many people have already done so much for me that I hate not being able to take care of myself.

One of the cancer warriors told me her husband asked her, “Do I have to do everything?” She told me, “I just looked at him and said yes.”  She is the warrior who has talked to me about her fatigue and her legs being so weak. At the beginning I did not understand what she was talking about, but now I totally understand. I am right there with her. I feel like I only have enough energy to get from one day to the next. Caring for my animals, the house, or the yard is more than I can handle right now. So even though it is hard for me, I have called in the cavalry to help me make it through until I can get my strength back.

I can be very hard-headed sometimes. My daddy likes to tell a story about helping me with my spelling homework when I was a kid. He would give me a word to spell and I would just sit there. “Melissa, spell cat.”  I would just sit there. “Melissa, just say something ,even if it is wrong.” And still, I would just sit there.

My mom tells a story of picking me up from school when I was in the first grade and my teacher informing her that she thought I might be developmentally disabled (which is not the actual term that was used when I was a kid). My mom freaked and took me right to the family doctor. After spending some time with me, he told my mom that the only thing wrong with me was that I was stubborn as hell.  So, like I said, I’m hard-headed, independent, and stubborn.

I think I should be able to do everything by myself. I have lived my entire life that way. I have lived my life taking care of others. I spent a huge part of my childhood taking care of the emotional needs of some of the adults in my life. I am the one who tries to make things better for others, even at the expense of my own needs. It is hard for me to ask for help. But tonight I reached my breaking point. I need help.

And the beauty of it is, the help has been here all the time. I just needed to admit to myself that I am not Wonder Woman (I know that will come as a surprise to some of you, but it is true) and to ask my beautiful friends for help.

I can already feel a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. I feel that with all of your help, I will make it to the other side of this battle. I can see the armor is in good repair, shining beautifully and ready for my battle on Tuesday.

Thank you all – I love each and every one of you.

It is early Wednesday morning and I cannot sleep. This is the way it has been for several days now: My body is so tired but my mind just cannot rest. I am not sure why. On the inside, I feel so empty and alone. I have tried and tried to think of something to write – something that will make you smile or laugh. But I have nothing.

I don’t feel much like a cube anymore – really just don’t feel like much of anything. This battle is getting old and my spirit is tired. I try not to complain because I am so sure that everyone is tired of hearing it. It still shocks me, though, to be so tired from doing simple little things. Just walking outside and feeding the goats is now a chore for me. I am tired before I can even get the gate closed and walk back up the stairs to the house. I know the fatigue will not last forever but for the moment it is unsettling.

I try to think of some wisdom to learn from all of this, something to take with me after this chemo battle is over. Right now, though, I really am not able to even pull from that wise old soul of mine. I feel a little locked off from myself. I usually spend a lot of time thinking in depth about life, love, and nature. I also spend lots of time marveling at the beauty that surrounds me – the wonder of this world and all the living things that surround me. But even that seems distant to me now.

I am just so focused on getting through the last chemo next Tuesday, and the recovery from it, that I seem to be in another world. It’s almost like I have blinders on and am just able to focus on that one point. I realized that today when I was driving into town, and I saw several birds in a ditch. They were all bathing in the puddles that have collected from all the rain. It looked like they were have a ball and it made me smile. Wow–just being there in that very moment, just watching those birds, made me realize that I have been sleepwalking through these last few weeks. I know that I am doing what I can at this time but it makes me sad, because just concentrating on surviving is not living for me.

I have thought a lot about this time of my life. I have heard others with cancer question why. Why me?  Well, I have not felt that way. Maybe it is my 12-step program background that helps. You have no idea how many time over the years I have heard someone say, “Why me?” And then someone with years of recovery will say, “Why not you?”

I get that. I just think things happen. Bad things happen to good people; it is just part of living. Life is hard and sometimes life isn’t fair. But I am grateful to be here and to have the life I have.

So just because I have not asked, “Why me?” does not mean I am not angry, because I am. My life has changed, and not in any way I had planned. I am angry because of the disruption in my life, I am angry because it feels like my life is on hold while I fight this battle, and I am angry because my body and mind do not feel like they belong to me anymore.

Do you remember that part in the movie Steel Magnolias when Sally Field loses it after her daughter’s funeral?  That is how I feel. I want to hit someone. I know that I am very blessed because just like in the movie, I am surround by wonderful, supportive friends and family. But I really do wish I could hit someone – I think it would make me feel better. Any volunteers????

Love you all!

Waiting, waiting, waiting.  I just keep waiting to feel human again.  It has been 10-11 days since the last chemo and I’m still not feeling human.  I thought I had this chemo bit down: chemo on Tuesday and start feeling better on the following Sunday night. Even better on Monday, then human on Tuesday.

So that is what I expected this time, but no.  It has been one thing after another.  Chemo on Tuesday. Neulasta injection on Wednesday. Back to the doctor a week after chemo.  On the Tuesday after chemo my WBC count was low – Neupogen injection. Saw the doc again on Wednesday, and my WBC count was normal.

Thursday I broke out with the worst poison ivy ever, and also had an allergic reaction to hand sanitizers. My hands were itchy, hot, and swollen.  On Friday I started having severe pains under my right rib cage and now, at 12:32 am Saturday morning, I’m in the ER, waiting to find out what the hell is happening with me.  I have my two faithful friends Sylvia and Lorene here with me.  I know they are ready to kill me but they sit here patiently, giving me care and comfort.

I am not one to cry with physical pain, but this time I was in tears.  I am sure some of it was fear but a lot of it was just from the pain.  I finally decided around 10 p.m. Friday that I just could not take it anymore.  I had tried Tums, Rolaids, and Maalox.  Each time it would help for a bit but then the pain would come back worse than before.  When you have chemo you have no idea what those drugs might be doing to your body, so just to be safe, off to the emergency room the three of us went.

They dropped me off at the emergency room and went to park the cars. I walked in and thought, Well, we will be here all night. The place was packed. But since I was having chest pains they took me right back.  I was back and in a room before Sylvia and Lorene even made it back from parking.  I felt a little guilty for being taken back before the other people, but not really that guilty.

I had the usual EKG, which came back normal.  I really did not think it was my heart but I guess it is best to rule that out first.  Next came the blood work and urine sample followed by a chest x-ray.  Chest x-ray was good – no pneumonia.  Questions came up with the blood work.  The blood test indicated that the heart was okay but one test came back high so the doctor was concerned about a blood clot in the lungs.  He said that is one thing that concerns him when someone is on chemo.  He left and I looked at Lorene and Sylvia and said, “Did he just say blood clot?”  I could tell Sylvia was concerned but the voice of reason (which is Lorene) said, “It is not a blood clot; we know that it is your esophagus.”  Okay – so she settled us all down, but I know it is something all of us are concerned about now.

So between the fear and the pain, I finally decided to let them give me some morphine.  I have no idea why I kept resisting.  The doctor had ordered it but I like to pretend I am tough, so I resisted.  The nurse came in to give me the morphine and asked, “What is your pain level on a scale of 0-10?” Again trying to be tough, I said, “about 7.”  She gave me the injection, then asked again about my pain level. I said, “What pain?”

Sylvia asked me a question and all I could say was, “Your hair looks really pretty.” Even though I was out of it I could hear Sylvia and Lorene laughing because now I was smiling.  Damn straight I’m smiling – this is some good stuff.  And they are laughing again because I am mumbling something about taking some of it home.

So next I am off for a CAT scan to check for blood clots. Guess what? It was clear also. Okay, now we are narrowing it down.  Maybe the gall bladder – so an ultrasound is done and we rule out the gall bladder. So now it is 5 or 6 a.m. on Saturday morning.  The doctor says it is the esophagus or stomach, probably inflamed and irritated from all the chemo.  Drugs prescribed and another injection of morphine given, we are finally able to go home.

I am relieved to know it is something that can be controlled with medication and even more relieved not to be in pain.  A little embarrassed that I dragged Sylvia and Lorene to the ER with me, but very grateful for their kindness and support.

It is getting to be time now to prepare for the next battle.  The last battle with chemo is just a little over a week away.  I am writing the last of this post on July 21st.  My next chemo is on July 30th.  I know it seems like a long time, but it is not.  It will be the last and the hardest battle.  The fatigue from chemo is not the same after each treatment; it is cumulative.  But I will be ready.  Dressed in the armor that all of you have polished and shined for me.  I will be ready.  I have to be ready.

You see, this time I might be someone else’s chemo hero.  Just like the one I needed to see during my first chemo.  So on that day, I will walk in with my head held high, like I own the place.  My armor will be fitted perfectly and I will smile while facing this enemy on this battlefield for the last time.

As you know from yesterday’s post, this round of chemo has taken its toll.  I have not felt as good today as I was hoping to – the fatigue is still here and the nausea finally caught up with me.  I was able to eat some cheese toast a few minutes ago and I think I might be starting to feel better.

When I am in these physical downspins, my mind is at its best (I really should say “worst,” because it can truly be my worst enemy).  One time, I had a very special person say to me, “Melissa, your mind is like a bad neighborhood – you should never go in there alone.”  So that is what I mean – my mind basically has a mind of its own.  It can really brew some things up if I am not available to at least rein it in every now and then.

I know some of you get concerned when my writings begin to turn a little darker.  I understand your concern but I have to allow these issues to come out.  If I just stuff things away and never mention them, they are still there.  But it is extremely important for me to open these things up – expose them to the light and then watch them lose their power.  So with all that said, let me tell you what I have been feeling like today.

Nothing. That’s it – nothing.  I don’t feel alive but I know I am.  I am breathing, seeing, sensing, and talking with friends.  My house has been full of wonderful and supportive people today – Lorene, Sylvia, and Cheryl.  Kim, Steve, and Chris came over to update the goat shed. I got to spend some time talking to my friend Janet today and hearing her voice is good medicine also. It has been an amazing day and I am grateful for all the love and support, but inside I feel nothing. I so look forward to at least feeling something.

When I was falling asleep earlier today, I thought of my body as a cube.  If you took my head, shoulders and body to about my waist that is what it feels like: a cube.  A cube where you can snap off the legs and put the cube wherever you like.  Just sit it there – no feeling – no emotion – just there.  The world spins around it and life goes on, but the cube just sits there.

And that is really how my life feels right now.  Just waiting to get through with all of these damn treatments.  I think about doing something or going somewhere and then I remember – no, wait – finish chemo, then radiation.  This is not at all how I thought this year of my life would be – but it is what it is.  I will do what must be done. I will wait. I will put this all behind me, then take a big, deep breath of the cool fall air.

Unbelievable!  This treatment has really thrown me for a loop. The extra anti-nausea med that I was given on Tuesday really helped; I have not been sick and I have actually been able to eat. This is the first time Lorene and Sylvia have not had to force me to eat. So that part is good but the fatigue is much worse than before – I have slept almost continuously since Thursday.

Walking from one room to the next really becomes a chore. For someone like me who has always been fairly active, this feeling is very disconcerting. I have run a marathon, completed a half-ironman and participated in hundreds of other running and biking events, so to be out of breath after walking from one room to the next is a little unsettling. My legs get weak, I feel light headed, I have a hard time catching my breath, and all I really want to do is sit down. Just typing this is hard because my arms are so fatigued.  Needless to say, I am physically tired, but mentally I am also so tired of feeling this way. I know this is just the process, but it is getting harder each time.

To tell you the truth, I do not even know where my armor is today. I came home from chemo, threw it off, and have been raw and exposed ever since. It is probably laying crumpled in a corner somewhere and will need lots of tending to before the next battle. Armor is good for battle but sometimes it is good to be uncovered and exposed. It is during these times that I am reminded of how much love and support surrounds me. That is what gives me the strength for the next battle, the next time the armor must be worn to face this faceless enemy.

While I am going through this journey, I have met another warrior who has Stage IV breast cancer. It is scary to even write those words, much less think about what it must feel like to be facing that diagnosis. I am brought to tears almost every time I think about it. She is alone, without the support of family and friends. She is on an experimental drug – one last chance, and the thought scares me to death.

I feel truly blessed not only because I caught this cancer early, but also because I have all of you. It is a comfort and a blessing. I will fight on – I will not let you down. But as you are holding me up and sending good thoughts my way, please pray for everyone else who is facing this demon.

Love you all.