today's not a cliche, is it?

As a kid I could run around in the snow in the thinnest dress and would not flinch in the slightest. Then I was either spoiled by California weather or my perception of cold changed. For most of the last seven years in Seattle I've only been comfortable in a range of 71-82. Fragile like I fine wine! Partly because of that (partly because it was more environmentally friendly, and partly because it will save us money in the long run) Todd and I finally took the plunge and added insulation to the attic. It was a messy all-day effort, but well worth it. Now the house is very warm and I sometimes have a hard time determining if I'm having hot flashes or if the house is just doing a better job retaining heat. Yes, that's right - here comes the cliche - I've been running hot and cold. When I went into surgery we were expecting that I would keep my ovaries. Alas cancer decided that one of them was yummy and hunkered down and grew. So, aside from immediately loosing my potential future ability to biologically make more kids, I also woke up having been injected with hormone replacement so I wouldn't go through menopause on top of everything else. I then got a low-dose hormone patch to keep me "stable" during chemotherapy and radiation. Probably a good idea to not have your body and mind going through too many things at once, but staying on the patch increases your risk of cancer - isn't that ironic? So eventually I knew I wanted to stop. About a month ago I took the plunge. Yes, there are more side effects than just running hot and cold physically, such as running hot and cold emotionally. Todd and the kids don't seem any worse for the wear... yet... The adventure continues because it's a completely individual experience as to how long the effects will last. This adventure may last 6 months or could go 10 years. Alas, this blog wouldn't reflect how fun it is if I didn't point out the awesome upside - this opens a whole new world of conversation with the women who are 50+ at parties. I'm part of a new special clique.

Looking at the new normal

I have to apologize to anyone who has been following my progress and wellbeing via the blog. I promised myself that I would use the blog to tell people things that were going on and to update it somewhat frequently and with honesty. But since I finished treatment in October that commitment seems to have flown out the window. No, I haven’t been fibbing – but I certainly have neglected writing and sharing for the past month. Part of me wonders whether people have moved on since I’m not posting and am now just in “surveillance” mode. To combat that I am wrapping my head around the concept that it’s okay to write without trying to second guess who’s reading this now - or in the future. Another part is that I’ve been incredibly busy. As treatment wound down, I dialed back up my responsibilities at work.  Now the filp-side is true. In the last two weeks I have facilitated one training and attended two others. This meant traveling cross-country to Florida, Wilton Connecticut, and Chicago.  Throw on top of that Thanksgiving travel, three snow-days where the kids were out of school and you’ve got yourself a full agenda. Looking in to the future also planning travel to Santa Fe in two weeks. So now you’re probably wondering what spurned the return to the blog or what exciting topic would make me pick up the pen… er… laptop. I certainly have missed writing and have felt a tug towards getting proverbial pen to paper, but alas it is not solely for those reasons that I am writing today. As I mentioned I went to a training this week. I ran into many people I had not seen since last year’s training. Some of them knew I had cancer; others had no idea. I had to re-tell my (now shortened into almost an elevator pitch) story on how I’m doing. I so desperately wanted to just say: “I had cancer, and I’m cured.”  Instead it was more likely to come out: “I had cancer, but at this point things look fine, but only time will tell.” I know there’s a whole book published on life after cancer (which I’m not going to read) but this is a brave new world for me. I have been desperate to get back to normal, but I’m not able (and frankly not willing) to give up the acknowledgement that this has permanently changed me. Let’s just hope it’s for the better, right?