Happy Birthday

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Today marks my two year Remission Birthday!!!!!

I want to thank everyone who has walked beside me, encouraged me, loved me, given me support and most importantly hope, that this day would come.

To all my fellow warriors, you inspire me to be the woman I am today, I am in awe of each one of you and I know my journey would not be the same without you in it.  I am so honored to call you friends.

Never stop believing that each one of us can find joy in this crazy journey, you are all mine.

Happy Birthday To Me!

My Beautiful Friend

 

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I’m beginning to find beauty in ways I never recognized before.

When the word got out that I had cancer, a friend gave my phone number to one of her friends who had also been diagnosed with my type of cancer .  I really did not want to speak to anyone in the beginning of my journey, but she would never know this, because she just picked up the phone and called me.

“Hi, my name is Cindy and I had Multiple Myeloma too and you will get through this, promise there is light at the end of the tunnel.”

We have stayed in touch over these past few years and finally met each other a few months ago and it felt like we had been friends our whole life.  The bond of cancer is so deep and personal, you have more in common than friends you really have known for  your whole life.

Cindy has recently fallen out of remission and although going through treatments that leave her sick and I’m certain in despair over cancer returning, she is still the one who is mentoring me.

She wears her pain in the most beautiful of ways.  Strength, hope, love, encouragement, inspiration, they pour out of her.  She speaks about her husband and children and making them happy and she always wants to know how I feel before discussing herself.

I can now see the beauty in the way someone wears their pain and Cindy is one of the most beautiful people I know.

She really is the best beauty lesson I’ve ever learned.

These Boots Were Made For…

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Today I drove on three different freeways for over an hour to my Doctor’s appointment in a three inch pair of cranberry colored boots.

It is never lost on me that I get way too dressed up for these appointments and logically speaking, not the best choice of shoes for stop and go traffic.

 When I go to any appointments at City Of Hope, I strut down the hallways trying not to remember when I was one of the hairless patients, in a wheel chair feeling scared and at times so sick I refused to make eye contact with any passerby’s and instead walk now like I’m possibly an employee going to conduct business.

My Doctor who is rocking quite the shoe collection herself, is often met by me talking more about her shoes and mine, instead of asking about my labs.

I wouldn’t have it any other way though, because I do remember the part of that woman broken in a wheel chair who couldn’t wait to get dressed again.

So if you’re ever at City Of Hope and see a gal strutting her stuff, she’ll be more than happy to give you directions or answer your questions, just like she works there.

Emotional Support

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I just came out of a week that I’m certain could qualify me for an Emotional Support Dog.

My diagnosis would be PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

I felt a pain in my ribs that sent me into a tailspin of cancer dooms day so bad I called my doctor and practically demanded my blood be drawn and a hospital bed be reserved in my name.

Let’s back it up here.  You see, my entire journey began when I thought I pulled a rib and went months treating it like I had pulled a muscle doing a cool disco move, when actually they were being broken one by one by cancer eating away at my bone marrow.

Fast forward to a cancer diagnosis.

 The thing about cancer is, you’re in survival mode.  Emotions, those are child’s play, no time for those, no energy for those, until there is.

A pain in my rib area made all those really deep ones come pouring out.  I believe there is a time in the journey that the magnitude of it all just hits you and no one except the one’s who are on the same path can really understand.  Believe me, I’ve tried to explain it a million times to my poor husband.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because it gave me the clarity to own my feelings and get them out.  I went into the weekend feeling better as some of my labs came back good and I now have a new perspective to share with others.

And while I am certain there is some validity in all of us having PTSD, I think for now I’m going to hold off registering Spike, he’s still having his own flashbacks of his time locked in a Vietnamese breeding kennel.