Charlotte’s Ally Team Honorarium for Susan G. Komen Race For The Cure®: Danielle Murray’s Story

Danielle Murray works in Audit Services and has been with Ally since November 2010. She was diagnosed with a high risk and aggressive form of breast cancer in 2009 at the age of 30. She is sharing her story with VAN Charlotte to provide a story behind the cause. She is a “princess warrior” – a courageous woman who didn’t have the standard risk factors for breast cancer and went misdiagnosed for almost a year, resulting in her cancer being very aggressive by the time it was finally diagnosed. Her journey took her down many roads. Now in remission, Danielle – a wife, mother, daughter, sister, co-worker – hopes that by sharing her story with VAN Charlotte, she will encourage participation and support for Ally’s Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure® team this year. At a minimum, she hopes it raises awareness that breast cancer can strike at any age and to never listen to a doctor who tells you a lump is nothing to worry about, even when you have no risk factors at all.  [See below] to read Danielle’s story in her own words.

Please support Ally’s Team for the Charlotte Komen Race For The Cure this year! Join Danielle Murray and our team to run, walk or even Sleep-In For The Cure®. Donations are also welcomed! As a part of the Ally team, for every dollar you raise, Ally will match up to $10,000!  For more information, please check out our Team site at http://charlotte.info-komen.org/goto/ally.

Charlotte’s Ally Team Honorarium for Susan G. Komen Race For The Cure®: Danielle Murray’s Story

My name is Danielle Murray. I work in Audit Services and have been an Ally employee since November 2010. I was diagnosed with a high risk and aggressive form of breast cancer (HER2+ Invasive Ductal Carcinoma) in 2009 at the age of 30. I was honored when I was asked to share my story with Ally’s Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure® team and the Charlotte VAN to provide a story behind the cause. Susan G. Komen for the Cure® is the global leader of the breast cancer movement and has become the largest source of nonprofit funds dedicated to the fight against breast cancer. Ally has established a goal of raising $10,000 this year for this worthy cause.

Women under the age of 40 generally do not consider themselves to be at risk for breast cancer; however, I am proof that breast cancer can strike at any age. Some of the risk factors for developing breast cancer at a young age include a personal or family history of breast cancer, evidence of a genetic defect, heavy alcohol use or obesity. I had none of the risk factors, yet I got cancer anyway. Because of my age and lack of apparent risk factors, I went misdiagnosed for almost a year, resulting in my cancer being very aggressive by the time it was finally diagnosed.

It started in July of 2008, when I found what I described as a ripple in my right breast. My doctor assured me it was nothing to worry about. About 8 months later, in February 2009, a lump appeared under my arm. A different doctor assured me both were nothing to worry about. I became pregnant a few weeks earlier and was told that they were cysts from the pregnancy and completely normal. Two weeks later, I miscarried. The lumps did not go away. I asked about them again and was told a third time not to worry – they may take some time to go away. After years of fertility issues, I was more wrapped up emotionally in the miscarriage than I was worrying about the lumps.

On March 10, 2009, I heard Dr. Oz talking about medical mistakes on Oprah. He mentioned a case where they switched two women’s mammogram scans – one had breast cancer and the other did not. These two women went about their lives – one started chemo and had surgery to remove her healthy breasts, and the other went about her life while the cancer grew inside her. This story was my wake-up call to insist on a mammogram.

My doctor assured me it wasn’t necessary but ordered it anyway after I insisted. I scheduled the mammogram for March 17, 2009 and was told that day it looked like cancer. They immediately performed a needle biopsy. I anxiously awaited the pathology results and received the call with the confirmed diagnosis on March 24, 2009, the day before my 31st birthday. After many scans and tests, they could clearly see four tumors – two in my breast (which is why they felt like a ripple instead of a lump) and two in my lymph nodes. Later, following surgery, they stated it was evident there were more we just couldn’t see.

Breast cancer is “staged” on a scale of Stage 0 to Stage 4. Stage 4 is considered incurable. Mine was borderline Stage 3. I was told I had a 40% chance of “disease free survival” and needed to start on chemotherapy immediately – there was no time to prepare and no time to recover from having surgery first. The doctors’ primary goal was to prevent it from spreading anywhere else.

I started on three different kinds of high dose chemotherapy on April 1, 2009, lost my hair about two weeks later and continued receiving chemotherapy and/or intravenous hormone therapy until I reached a year out from diagnosis. This amounted to about 66 hours sitting in the infusion room over the course of 52 weeks, a humbling experience at every visit. Immediately following chemotherapy, I had surgery to remove the remaining cancer and then underwent 7 weeks of daily radiation treatments. My husband Dan (also an Ally employee), mom, dad and sisters were by my side through the whole process.

Thanks to my just-in-time diagnosis and an aggressive treatment plan, I am now in remission. As I began the road to recovery and my prognosis improved (from 40% to a 90% chance of “disease free survival”), my husband and I adopted a baby boy. I won’t be able to become pregnant for another 3 ½ years while I finish 5 years of Tamoxifen treatment (a daily breast cancer pill that interferes with estrogen production). While I would never call cancer a “gift” as some cancer survivors do, I recognize that it brought us to our son and allowed us to finally complete our family (or at least got us started – we look forward to adopting again possibly next year).

I hope by sharing my story with you all, you will be encouraged to provide support to Ally’s Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure® team this year. At a minimum, I hope it makes you more aware that breast cancer can strike at any age and to never to listen to a doctor (or two doctors in my case) who tells you a lump is nothing to worry about, even when you have no risk factors at all.

Here is a link to my personal page: 

http://charlotte.info-komen.org/site/TR?px=5312878&pg=personal&fr_id=2256&et=nmLRsS4y8UvelzeVqzeDpw..&s_tafId=71059

What A Difference Two Years Makes…21 Jul

The picture below was taken less than two years ago. It is a picture of me with Danielle Murray, my friend, who was fighting breast cancer at the time of the picture. She was diagnosed just before her 30th birthday and her diagnosis and prognosis was scary. Her blog link is to the right side of my blog if you are interested in reading about her story.

We honored her as our Warrior Princess mascot at the 2009 Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk along with several other survivors. I watched Danielle, from a distance, while she fought against breast cancer. I didn’t know her very well (I knew her Mom better) but I kept up with her blog and was humbled by her strength, her dignity, and her spirit as she fought her battle. Danielle had many rounds of chemo, 12 months of herceptin, 5 (on-going)years of tamoxifen, radiation, and a lumpectomy – not in that order. Every time I was around Danielle she was smiling, she was honest about her fight and her side effects, but most of all she was optimistic and strong. I remember thinking how amazing she was because she was just going about her life, working when she could, and living life around cancer the best way she knew how. I also remember wondering how I would handle myself in her position. Would I be in the corner crying, balled up, feeling horrible, whining, and repeating over and over “why me?” Danielle not only fought her battle and won, she and her hubby Dan were able to adopt a precious infant in November 2009 as she put breast cancer behind her and became a Mom.

So fast forward almost two years to early 2011. I was writing some vague comments on my facebook about finding a lump and having a diagnostic mammogram and asking for prayers. Out of the blue I get an email from Danielle that says “are you freaking kidding me – you???” – this was the beginning of a deeper friendship. Danielle has texted me, emailed me, facebooked me, had lunch with me, and called me – millions of times. She has offered non-stop support, advice, and comparisons, she has offered to go wiglet shopping with me – hat shopping – and asked if I needed rides to chemo appointments or any other appointments. There is nothing off-limits to discuss when it comes to side effects or surgical questions with Danielle. She has been relentless in the pursuit of answers and research for breast cancer. So for me, she was a huge, HONEST, library of knowledge.

Last night was my Pink Drink party to celebrate the end of chemo and Danielle was one of the first people there. She didn’t know anyone – but yet, she came, to support me and celebrate with the rest of us – NO MORE CHEMO ! I kept looking at her last night and thinking to myself how beautiful she looks, her hair has grown back in, she is tan (sunscreen Danielle – sunscreen), she looks so healthy and her smile lights up the room. I kept thinking that maybe that will be me in two years (without the tan of course). I know she worries about recurrence because we have talked about it many times. Having cancer once leaves you with a small dent in your amour, a small question mark for your future, and every time you have aches, pains, or a persistent cough, your mind wonders…..I know this not only because my breast cancer friends have told me, but I lived through it watching and worrying over my Mom. So, mainly I wanted to thank Danielle for being such a strong and positive role model. She showed us all back then how you CAN handle being diagnosed with cancer. Had I not had her as a role model I probably would be piled in the corner, drooling, crying, asking “why me”, depressed and devastated.

What a difference two years makes, she was sick, she fought, she won, she became a Mom, she is now healthy and beautiful; I got married, I blended my family with Kevin’s, I was diagnosed, I am/was sick, now I am battling the same battle with some of the same treatments as Danielle. As I watched her last night, I could not help but hope and pray that I will be in her spot two years from now. Healthy, happy, healed, and supporting someone else thru this dreadful fight. I truly believe it’s all about faith, hope, strength, and helping someone else…I know that God is going to use my diagnosis for good. Somehow. I thank God that He placed Danielle in my life two years ago – she has been one heck of a chemo friend. I firmly believe that every chemo patient needs someone, who has been through it already, to be really honest with them about what they can expect, like Danielle was with me.

I thought these two pictures would capture what I am trying to say better than I am saying it. Because you just never know when you are going to be in someone else’s “hat”.

So the drama started Monday at lunch when all of a sudden my armpit started hurting.  It started off as a dull soreness.  I immediately assumed it was lymphadema and called my oncologist. 

Lymphedema (or lymphatic obstruction) is a condition of localized fluid retention and tissue swelling caused by a compromised lymphatic system.  It’s basically the biggest risk factor from having all my axillary lymph nodes removed during my surgery.  Not all breast cancer patients have their lymph nodes removed.  I did because they tested positive for cancer metastatsis at my original diagnosis biopsy.

My oncologist said that since there wasn’t any swelling, it probably wasn’t that but that I should call my oncology surgeon because it could be some delayed injuries from surgery or something.  I had already received a letter in the mail reminding me to schedule my followup so I thought I’d just wait for that. 

Like an hour later, the pain started getting much worse and was spreading down my arm.  Pretty soon after that, my whole arm was very sore and very achy.  I could barely raise it and by mid afternoon I couldn’t raise it much past my shoulder without feeling like I was pulling something.  Then all of a sudden this weird rash appeared.  I called my oncologist back.  I usually start with them because, like I said in prior posts, every time anything medical pops up now, I want to immediately rule out any possibilities that the cancer is back no matter how randomly related (or unrelated) the symptoms.  They said it didn’t sound oncology related but suggested I go to the ER.  I decided to wait a few hours to see if it got better.  I don’t like being over dramatic and rushing to the ER for everything, even though it was a very strange presentation of symptoms.

It was still the same by the time I got home so I called my family phyisician to see what they thought.  Since it wasn’t oncology related, I thought my family physician would know best if I should be concerned.  I talked to the on-call doctor after hours and they suggested the ER too.  They were concerned it might be a blood clot.

So off to the ER I went Monday night around 8pm.  I was there until about 12am.  They thought it might a blood clot too so they ordered a full neck/arm sonogram.  They also ordered a CBC (complete blood count) for the rash.  The sonogram took forever because they were looking at all the large veins all the way up and down.  It ended up coming back normal.  The blood test came back and showed my white blood cells were slightly elevated so they said it was probably cellulitis (a generalized medical term for tissue infection).  They gave me a perscription and told me to follow up with my family physician if it got worse.  The concern was that I didn’t have any lymph nodes to fight off the infection so taking the medicine was very important.

The rash got worse over the next two days (even while taking the medicine they gave me) so I scheduled a followup with my family physician.  He was puzzled and said the rash was concerning but that it didn’t compare with the distribution for other common rashes.  They drew some blood too, reran my CBC, and did a couple other tests to rule out some other rash symptom type things.  He said he “hoped” it was shingles because if not it might be some sort of tick borne infectious disease like Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.  Good grief was all I thought at that point and felt like I should be on an episode of House.  They gave me two new meds and told me to stop taking the other one. 

So this morning, they called and asked me to come back in.  They said the shingles test came back normal so it wasn’t shingles.  That would have been concerning if the rash was still getting worse, but it wasn’t.  He actually said he was very pleased with how everything looks today (almost back to normal), and basically, the conclusion of the story is that the doctors are completely stumped (my doctor had even called in another doctor for a second opinion) and they just plain don’t know what it is/was.  I talked to another breast cancer survivor though who mentioned that this was common when you have no lymph nodes.  Every time you get a cut or something on that arm, there’s no telling how your arm will respond.  Well, that’s that I guess.  

So that was at 11:30 this morning.  After that, I grabbed lunch and then was off to my next 6 month mammogram – yippee!  I waited for a while because I was early and then finally got called back.  The technician stepped out and said she’d be right back.  Of course, I freaked inside.  She came back in and said the doctor wanted to take a few more pictures.  What the hell does that mean?!  She said not to worry, it didn’t mean anything, he just wanted to get a few more (of course I didn’t believe her).  After that, they walked me down to a private waiting room with a couch and asked me to wait there for the Radiologist.  They don’t normally do that so of course I was freaking again.  Then the Radiologist came in.  They never come in unless it’s bad news – at least that’s been my experience.  He sat down and said “well, everything looks great, we’ll see you back in 6 months!”  And that’s the end of that story.

So basically, after all that, I’m fine.  Mom needs a vacation and a big fat drink but I’m fine. 

First, many people don’t know this but a survivor milestone is actually the anniversary from the date of one’s “diagnosis”.  You are considered a “survivor” even if you still have cancer.  The fact that you are “living” makes you a “survivor”.  I thought it would be measured from the time you were “cured”, but I guess there is no “cure” for cancer so you’re referred to as a “survivor” from the time you are diagnosed. 

Which brings me to another area of common question – the difference between cancer “cure” and cancer “remission”.  Doctors almost never use the term “cure”; rather, they usually talk about “remission”.  Complete remission means that there are no symptoms or signs that can be identified to indicate the presence of cancer.  However, even when someone is in remission, there may be microscopic cancer cells that cannot be identified by current techniques (e.g., mammogram, MRI).  This means that even if a person is in remission, they may, at some future time, experience a recurrence of their cancer. 

Doctors often refer to 5-year or 10-year cure rate for breast cancer. What they really mean by this is a 5- or more year remission rate.  The longer the remission time lasts, the greater the possibility that the cancer actually has been cured, but there are cases of cancer recurrence many, many years after remission begins so the worry never goes away.

When I was first diagnosed, I was borderline stage 2B / 3A (on a scale of 0 – 4).  At that time, my oncologist gave me a 40% chance of beating the cancer – or a 60% chance of not.  The grim prognosis was due to certain high risk factors, including the type of cancer, fact that it had already spread to my lymph nodes, my young age, HER2+ status, grade 3 tumors (3 is the worst; not to be confused with “stage”), etc.  After chemo and surgery, I had a small amount of the cancer left, and at that time my oncologist improved my prognosis (I don’t recall the percentage but I think it was 10-20%).  Anyway, so now I’m considered in remission.

I had my annual MRI last month and everything came back clear so that was a huge relief.  I have my 6-month mammogram in a couple weeks.  I understand MRI’s pick up more detail than mammograms so I questioned why I had to have a mammogram so soon after my MRI but they said a mammogram looks at things differently and both scans are important.  So we’ll wait and see. 

Well, I don’t have too much more to say.  Well, except that yet another one of my friends has recently been diagnosed.  She has a blog too.  You should check it out (read her About Me section):  http://laurarenegar.wordpress.com/ I thought I knew all there was to know about breast cancer after being so ingrained in it for the past two years, but I learned quickly from reading her blog that I don’t. 

Oh and one last thing, a couple posts down I whined about no longer getting flowers (in my post about the differences between life as a cancer patient and life as a survivor)……well, Mom got me flowers for my birthday.    Thanks Mom!  I love you!

Gosh, it has been forever since I last posted something!  That’s good news though because that means there’s no personal cancer news to share!  

I actually wrote part of this post a while ago but never published it.  Thought I’d post it now.

Life as a “survivor” is definitely different than life as a “cancer patient”.  I never expected to change as much as I think I have, but it’s true, cancer changes you. 

Before cancer, I never thought twice about the chance of not living into my golden senior years.  Now, I look at older people and think they don’t know how lucky they are to have lived such a long life.   I was looking at an old women parked next to me yesterday at a traffic light.  She was hanging her hand out the window flicking her cigarette out into the 20 degree weather and I couldn’t help but wonder why she hasn’t gotten cancer and I did.  I’ll never know why I got cancer and don’t wish it upon anyone but I am glad about where it has brought me in my life today and can be thankful for some of the things it brought me – like Aidan! 

Before cancer, I was a tad uptight about certain things.  For example, I never said curse words unless I was so mad I couldn’t hold them back, and then I felt bad afterwards like I had disobeyed and belonged in the corner.  Now, I swear just a little more, but usually just in a joking manner to be funny or light-hearted.  It feels weird to say these words sometimes (since I’ve never been a cusser) but then I think to myself, who gives a shit if you throw in a curse word here or there, does it really make you a bad person?  No.  Well, I guess if you swore every other word or in a nasty tone – then maybe.  

Before cancer, I never worried about my health.  Now, I am a hypochondriac and every little pain worries me that the cancer is back or something else is.  You would laugh and think I was crazy if I told you all of my worries.  For example, I broke my toe earlier this year getting Aidan’s stroller out of the trunk in the rain.  I asked Dr. Limentani if that could mean bone cancer, because the bones are the most common place for breast cancer to spread (beyond the lymph nodes where my cancer had already metastasized).  He laughed and said it would be the first time he’s heard of breast cancer spreading to the pinky toe.  Another time, I felt a weird lump in my neck and questioned whether it could be another malignant lymph node.  The nurse told me it was my vein.  These are laughable things now but you’ll never know unless you’re in this position how your mind can worry about every little thing – especially since the doctors told me not to worry for so long.

Before cancer, I filled out medical forms during doctor’s visits and had a pretty clean questionnaire.  Now, I have to “continue on the back of the page” to explain all my medical woes and surgeries. 

Before cancer, I was proud to be an organ donor.  Now, I feel disciminated against for not being allowed to be an organ donor or blood donor.   I guess I understand but it’s yet another reminder.

Before cancer, I had long thin hair.  Now, I have short poofy thick hair that is grows into a mullet if I don’t cut the bottom when the top starts to catch up.

Before cancer, I never had any lingering issues to worry about.  After cancer, I have to worry about things like lymphedema, axillary web syndrome, neuropathy, bloody noses, cognitive dysfunction (chemo brain), capsulectomy surgery, followup appointments, painful mammograms, etc.   

Before cancer, I never met my out-of-pocket maximum for my health insurance.  Now, every year, I spend about $3,500 on medical expenses after insurance and have definitely earned my fair share of medical benefits. 

Before cancer, I obsessed about my fertility and tried my hardest to control my destiny by undergoing fertility treatments to get pregnant.  After cancer, I look back on my miscarriage and know that baby saved my life and realize more than ever that “whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.” 

Before cancer, I would have been devastated to realize I would never get pregnant.  After cancer, I am so thankful for my Little Scrumptious Aidan, wouldn’t change anything and could care less about not being able to get pregnant, since I would rather give Aidan another adopted sibling because now it’s all about him.

Now for some acknowledged differences between life as a cancer patient and life as a cancer survivor…..

As a cancer patient, people checked on me every day and flowers showed up at my door step weekly.  As a cancer survivor, I don’t get any flowers.  What’s up with that?!

As a cancer patient, I had no hair, and my eye brows and eye lashes were dwindling every day.  As a cancer survivor, I have bad hair days again but am thankful for them because I know what they mean.

As a cancer patient, I was optimistic that I would be cured.  As a cancer survivor, I worry it’ll come back.

As a cancer patient, I visited the oncologist’s office or went to a related scan or appointment 75+ times, each time feeling that I was fighting as hard as I could.  As a cancer survivor, I only visit the oncologist every three months, each time in between worried that I’m not doing enough anymore. 

Well that’s all I can think of for now I guess.   Latest cancer related news – I had a surgery a couple weeks ago to remove internal scar tissue that had formed from the radiation treatments (it wasn’t a big deal and the recovery was much easier than I expected).  I also have what seems to be permanent neuropathy in my back (also from the radiation) – it’s basically a tingling/vibrating sensation in this one spot that’s due to nerve damage from radiation (yep, it beams through all the way through the back – powerfull stuff).  Still taking my Tamoxifen (pills I’m taking for 5 years for the estrogen receptor positive status).  Last mammogram came back clear.  Next mammogram and MRI will be in March.  That’ll be my two year mark.  That’s the highest risk period for recurrence so I’ll be happy once I get past that point.  I’ve been reading a lot of breast cancer memoirs on my Kindle (which I love) this summer, including Nancy Brinker’s Promise Me.  There are so many things about Nancy Brinker that I didn’t know.  It’s surreal reading a book written by someone I’ve met (well at least met over the phone/radio).   Other than all that, and my continuous hypochondriac self, I’m marching on with life.  Other personal events going on in my life are Nina and Waylon having their baby, me getting a new job (working downtown now), Aidan turning one, and Natalie getting married soon.    Lots going on and loving every minute of it all!

For the last 365 days, I have either worn a hat……….a wiggie……………or a hat/wiggie combination.  I had to walk down the isle in Nina’s wedding in front of 300 people wearing a stupid wiggie.  I think I’m probably known as the hat girl on my new floor at work, and the trash guy asks me every day if I am cold.  But no more!  This weekend Neeta (my hair dresser) came over to my house and highlighted my hair for the first time in over a year.  My first chemo last year was on April 1st.  I lost my hair a couple weeks after that and have been wearing hats and wiggies ever since.  I have finally gotten up enough nerve and my hair is finally at a length that is semi ok to present in public.  I would not cut it this short by choice but it’s presentable enough to say sayonara to the wiggies and hats!  

Wow, can you believe it’s been a year?!  This week, I celebrated my one year survival milestone, my last on site treatment, and my 32nd birthday.  I remember sitting in the parking lot of University Hospital last year, crying on the phone to my mom and Dan, telling them for the first time that the radiologists thought I had cancer.  At that time, everyone was still optimistic and expecting the best – that I didn’t have cancer.  But I knew.  I knew I had it.  And I was worried.  Worried for what lied ahead, worried I had let it go undetected for too long, worried about how it would change my life, and yes, worried about death.  Little did I know, a year later, I would be in a better place – the best place I’ve been in in my entire life – a survivor, a mother, and the happiest I’ve ever been (even without hair). 

This Wednesday, March 24, 2010, marked one year since I got the pathology results.  I remember that day like it was yesterday.  I got out of my car, approached the oncology surgeon’s waiting room, turned the door knob and heard my cell phone ring.  I had been waiting for the call and knew it was them before I even looked at the caller id.  The news was what I expected.  Cancer.  You hear it all the time and for many it’s your worst fear.  For me, it was my new reality.

My family, friends, acquaintances, and people I’ve met along the way have been the best.  I couldn’t have gotten through it without you.  For Christmas, I gave my mom a charm from Things Remembered.  It was a silver oval with a breast cancer ribbon charm hanging in front of it.  I had “Together We Fought” engraved on the front and “I love you Mom” engraved on the back.  Today, at my one year survivor dinner at Nina’s house, my mom gave me the same charm, with “Surrounded by Love” engraved on it.  From Nina and Natalie, I got all my blog entries bound in a story book, including everyone’s comments and personal messages.  Both were such thoughtful gifts that I’ll treasure forever.  I was reading through some of my old blog posts tonight.  It was weird reading what I wrote at certain times.  I think the “chemo brain” has stuck around because there were many things I don’t remember.  But what I do remember is all the support and love I received along the way.  I truly was “surrounded by love”.  Thank you all so much for following my story and sharing in my journey. 

I had a mammogram on Wednesday before my last Herceptin appointment.  It came back clear, just like my MRI a couple weeks ago so that was nice to hear.  Happy Birthday to me!    My last appointment went great.  Mom came with me.  I sat next to a girl I had met in there a couple months ago.  She was getting her “big” chemo and had lost her hair since the last time I saw her.  It seems like a long time ago when I was going through that.  My hair is still growing back but it still looks atrocious and still too short to let anyone see it.  It was pretty crowded in there this time.  It seemed to be slow over the winter and has picked up again like last summer.  Almost every chair was full again (25 chairs, so around 50 people in there).  The usual mix of people again.  A young girl my age next to me, with her mom by her side.  An older man on the other side, with his elderly wife by his.  All of the nurses congratulated me for being done and cancer free.  It’s weird that I will no longer have to visit the infusion room.  I’ll still go back every three months to see Dr. Limentani and have mammograms and MRI’s every six months, but I won’t have to sit in the infusion room chair anymore.  No more IVs in my arm.  No more cold cancer drugs going into my body, and no more bad memories of eating popsicles and feeling sick.  But I will miss meeting my mom for lunch so often and enjoying her company by my side on those so many Wednesdays over the past year.   

So now, going forward, I’ll see my oncologist every three months for check ups for the first year, every four months the second year, and every six months after that, for eight years.  I’ll also be on Tamoxifen pills for five years, which I started after radiation and haven’t had any side effects from.  I’ll update my blog periodically with the results from my latest scans.  It’s weird to say I’m “in remission” now.  I prefer to say I’m “cancer free”.  “Remission” sounds like that means it’s going to come back at some point.  I don’t think that way.  Nope, I like to say I’m “cancer free”.  

Well, I’ll close out for now with my latest “My Life in Numbers” stats. 

1.  75+ doctor appointments

2.  1 CAT scan

3.  1 bone scan

4.  3 MRI’s

5.  3 mammograms (including the surprise Voodoo needle one before my surgery)

6.  15 biopsy samples taken

7.  6 “big” chemo cycles

8.  30 Herceptin treatments

9.  66 hours of IV treatments

10.  $300,000 in insurance claims

11.  $8,500+ spent out-of-pocket on medical expenses

12.  30 minutes of Dr. Oz XM/Sirius radio air time

13.  8 wiggies purchased (5 worn, 1 liked)

14.  2 of my pictures on the set of Oprah’s Dr. Oz tribute show and 2 Oprah tickets for a different show

15.  1 new puppy

16.  2 new cars (SC 430 convertible / Acrua RL)

17.  6 sets of Chemo Eve presents

18.  30 chemo popsicles

19.  150,000 hairs lost (resulting in about $1,000 saved from the hair salon)

20.  165 shaves/shampoos/conditions/drys/stylings avoided (that’s about 55 hours of getting ready time!!)

21.  365+ days of wearing a wiggie or hat – BLAH!

22.  2,000+ miles driven to/from doctor appts

23.  3 tumors dissolved!!!!!

24. 2 lymph nodes testing positive for cancer before chemo

25. 0 lymph nodes testing positive for cancer after chemo

26.  33 radiation treatments

27.  165 radiation blasts (5 per visit)

28.  1 lumpectomy surgery

29.  1 lymph node dissection surgery

30.  9 lymph nodes removed (all I had left after chemo)

31. 3 breast cancer walks

32.  $15,000+ raised by team for ACS breast cancer walk

33.  #10 for top personal fundraiser for ACS breast cancer walk

34.  17,732+ blog hits

35.  5 new friends made in the chemo room / wig shop

36.  1 introduction to Nancy Brinker

37.  2 barely visible surgery scars

38.  1,825 Tamoxifen pills to be taken

39.  5 years of not being able to get pregnant, but no worries, because…….

40.  1 new Little Scrumptious baby!!!!!

Gosh, it’s been quite a long time since my last post!  I guess that’s good news, since there’s not much to update anymore these days.  Aidan, our new adopted son, is doing great!  He’s so cute!  I posted some pics below.  Motherhood is wonderful and he’s such a good baby – already sleeping through the night and never cries!  My sister, Natalie, had her baby (girl, 6lbs, 13 oz, Marley Ava) last week so Aidan now has a little cousin on my side of the family!    Natalie’s labor went great and I was so proud of her at how she handled herself that day.  Since I went back to work on Feb 15, Natalie’s been watching Aidan for us at our house during the day, so that’s been nice.  And now that Marley is here, Aidan and Marley will be able to play together.  Both of them are so cute.  We set up a nursery for Marley at our house too so I got to decorate a girl’s room, which was fun. 

Hmmmm, cancer related…….I had an MRI recently and it came back CLEAR so that was reassuring!  I only have 2 Herceptin treatments left – March 3 and March 24, which is my one year mark from when I was first diagnosed last year.  Gosh, it went by quick and a lot has happened since then!  I’m still taking the Tamoxifen (and will continue to do so for 5 years).  No side effects from that, except fertility related, but I can honestly say that the adoption was just as fulfilling and exciting as I imagine birthing a baby would be.  I couldn’t imagine loving Aidan any more than I do now.

My hair is growing back still and my hair dresser comes to my house now to trim and color it.  It came in really dark brown, which is my natural color, so I had my hair dresser highlight it right away.  We think it’ll be mid to late summer before I will feel comfortable enough to go without those.  It’s been almost a year since I’ve been wearing wiggies and/or hats – SO ready for those days to be over!  As soon as my bangs get to be normal bangs-length, I’ll probably retire the wiggies/hats. 

Well, here are some pics of Little Scrumptious!!

At the beginning of my cancer diagnosis, when I first started my blog, I had shared some lessons learned and favorite quotes with you.  I was looking back at that page today and was caught by some of my original words, thinking about where I am now.  Take a look at what I wrote for #3!!!!!!

April 3, 2009 (2 days after my first chemo and a week and a half after my diagnosis):  “Everything happens for a reason.  I think back at all the circumstances that got me to where I am today and I think of where this journey will take me in the future.  I know there is devine plan that is meant to be for me, and I will soon learn what that is someday.”

Wow, isn’t that crazy!?  What a journey it has been! 

Now for today – I have my first hair cut this morning!  The girl that does my hair is coming over to my house this morning to trim up my hair and possibly add some highlights!  It’s still too short to wear normal but I’m getting it ready!  It’s about an inch long, maybe an inch and a half  and obviously it’s coming in my natural color, which is pretty much BLACK, which I don’t like and have always highlighted since college.  Everyone said it would come back curly but mine’s not.  I never thought it would.  My hair has always been stick straight.  It’s definitely not growing as fast as Izzy’s on Grey’s Anatomy!  Hers grew back over a year’s worth of hair lenth in two episodes!  No fair no schmare.