Thankful...

Life has been a whirlwind since returning to my cancer-free world. In my work world, I'm in my busy time, and it seems like I am finally in a groove. With the 30"+ of snow that fell recently, we had loads of fun times and togetherness with our family and neighbors. Please, spring...hurry up! We really need some sunshine!

A silver lining of going through cancer treatments for a second time in such a short time is the rare opportunity to leverage the hindsight and lessons learned from the first go-round. My family and friends have been through so much with me on this journey, and these last seven months have been hectic and emotional but with a powerful strength, confidence and closeness that was a true gift only received from experience. Last year at this time, I still had the roar of fear and cancer ringing in my head. I am convinced it was a sign to not let my guard down. Now, I am done with treatments and have an amazing sense of peace and tranquility that the cancer has been wiped from my body...and the fear has been erased from my soul.

When I was first diagnosed eighteen months ago, I did not ask, "Why me?" Instead I had faith that all of this was happening for a reason, and instead of questioning the Big Plan, I said that one day I would have an a-ha moment of clarity.

It seems that young women are coming out of the woodwork with new breast cancer diagnoses. They are not strangers I have met in a support group. They are not women that I have gone searching for. They are friends of friends...strangers in a waiting room...former colleagues. I find myself spending time with these women who have been diagnosed, and with a calm sense of confidence, I share my story, and I offer lessons learned. When I was first diagnosed I was alone. I did not know anyone else who had breast cancer, and along my journey I have met women who will forever be angels in my life.

Recently, I met up with one of my angels and a new member of the pink sisterhood for dinner. She was about to have a bi-lateral mastectomy with reconstruction, and will start chemo next month. The three of us spent over four hours at dinner, talking and laughing and sharing. The evening included a couple of trips to the bathroom. One trip, the three of us lifted up our shirts and showed the handy work of our skilled surgeons. I took off my wig and let her see my bald head, and she tried on my wig to get a sense of what it might be like to look different. Here we were in the bathroom like school girls, giggling and not caring who walked in as we played dress up. No longer were we strangers.

I got a call from a woman I had met in the waiting room at CW. She needed someone to talk to as she was about to shave her head, and wanted to know where I got my wig that she admired. After thirty minutes, she was no longer a stranger. Her tears turned to laughter, and she thanked me for being there for her.

The other day, I got an email from an old colleague who through a mutual friend found out about my journey, and told me about her diagnosis. As a mother of young children and a woman in the same profession, we talked and by the end of the call, we were connected. Her surgery went well and she just closed her email to me with, "Your words have really helped me."

I have not been to a formal support group, yet I have the most amazing support. I started writing down their names the other night, and there are 17 women that I consider my pink angels. Seventeen. Amazing. The youngest was 26 when she was diagnosed. Most are under 40. Why on earth are so many young women getting breast cancer? Am I more aware of it now that I have a pink ribbon myself? Or is it an epidemic that is getting out of control?

Whether I am the one in need of comforting, or the comforter, I am so blessed to have these women in my life. I have no idea about the day-in and day-out of their lives. But we have all been there for each other, and I find strength in all of them for different reasons. Whether it's hearing their words, or hearing myself speak and realizing how far I've come along on my journey, it's strength none the less.

Yesterday, my husband took me to the hospital for my port removal. He has taken me to so many appointments and procedures, and I am so grateful to see his beautiful face as I drift off to the OR. My favorite nurse happened to be working there, and we embraced like long lost BFFs! She knew me when I had long hair, has seen me with my short hair, and has smiled just the same as I donned my sassy scarf, concealing my bald head. You know it's bad when you personally know the staff at Interventional Radiology at the hospital! The procedure was a piece of cake, and now I'm left with one more scar to add to the lot. It's OK though...I'd rather have a scar from my port removal than needing to have a port.

Just as predicted by my oncologist, my hair just started sprouting baby peach fuzz. It's daunting to think of growing out my hair...again. BUT, I'm cancer free, and surrounded by my darling kids, my wonderful husband, my amazing family, and my kick-ass friends. I may look like hell but I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. I will see my plastic surgeon in a couple of months to discuss my final reconstruction. Until then, I'll enjoy the benefit of perky boobs sans bra.

Time to live my cancer-free life -- happy, healthy, full of energy, and eyes wide open. Life is good...savor each day.

And to all of my peeps -- and you know who you are -- thank you for giving me so many reason to smile, fight, and live. I love you with all of my heart!

xoxo