New Blog

There are a few people who asked me to keep writing a blog, so here it is:

abnormal is normal for me

Party Invite

Waiting For My Real Life To Begin

Nine months ago during a routine six week post-delivery check up after having Aurelia, Dr. Fisher noticed I had a large lump on my neck. She ordered an ultrasound which led to a CAT scan, which led to a fine need biopsy, which two months later led to a surgical biopsy in Seattle, which led to me being diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma Cancer. Nine months ago, my life changed dramatically, and it will never be the same, which I have now learned, isn’t always a bad thing.

During the past nine months I’ve had three surgical procedures, two PET scans, ten doses of chemotherapy, and seventeen radiation sessions. I’ve met with eight different doctors in three different states, five infusion nurses (Tamara was the best), and countless nurses and technicians. I’ve met dozens of people with cancer, and in the last three months alone, I’ve lost my aunt and one of my best friends to the disease.

Cancer Sucks.

I got home on Tuesday night after being away for a month. Not much has changed. The garden looks almost the same because nothing has neither died nor grown due to the lack of summer in Juneau. Addison did loads of work on the house and the kitten turned into a cat. Like me, the girls are excited to be home and back to our normal routine life, a life where mommy is done with treatments.

I may be done with treatments, but everything is not behind me. For the next two years I will need to meet with Dr. Fisher every three months, and then every six months for five years after that. She will check my lymph nodes to make sure they are not swelling and she will need to give me an overall physical examination. I will also need a CBC, CMR THS and ESR every three to six months. In six months, I need to have a CAT scan. If that comes back clean, my oncologist said I should never need another one unless I start having cancer-like symptoms. I will also need a yearly chest x-ray and I'll need to start doing mammograms earlier than most women because I am now susceptible to breast cancer after being exposed to radiation. Additionally, I'll need to start getting pneumococcal and flu vaccines regularly. I also learned that in a year to five years, my thyroid will quit functioning and I will need to take thyroid medication for the rest of my life, another issue caused by radiation. Oh and lastly, I'm at an increased risk for coronary artery disease. Phew, did I get it all? After my oncologist told me this he said he would not need to see me on a regular basis and I quote, "It is a real positive to be fired by a medical oncologist and I am very optomistic you will do well."

I may be able to move on to my post-cancer life, but the reminder of it will always be there. It’s not something I can easily put behind me and be done with it for the rest of my life. My focus will now shift from beating it, to now staying on top of it. I will do my best not dwell on fear that it may come back, but instead try to continue a healthy lifestyle and keep positive. I can’t say I won’t get nervous each time I’m awaiting my test results, but I will at the very least try to stay positive.

So what’s next? For starters, I’m planning my Juneau celebration party. It will be August 21st, 7 PM at the Juneau Arts and Culture Center (old Armory.) I hope many people can make it and help me celebrate. If you want to come in from out of town, we can stack people in like sardines at our house, or find other places for you to stay. The more the merrier. Aside from party planning, I’m eventually going to have to start training for the marathon. I gotta say, beating cancer wasn’t all that fun at times, but I can honestly say, I’ve feared the looming marathon more! For a girl who has never even run in a 5K race, a marathon is going to be quite the challenge. Brock suggested we run the San Francisco Nike Women’s Marathon in October of 2011. I’ll be seeking donations for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society soon, so if you’re interested, please let me know.

And in the near future, Addison and I are going to crack open a bottle of Veuve Clicquot my favorite champagne. He bought it for me Christmas of 2008, right before I found out I was pregnant. Due to pregnancy, breast feeding and then cancer, we still haven’t opened it. I think now is the time, and there’s definitely cause to celebrate.

Aside from celebration parties and running, who knows what the next year will bring for me. I am open to positive change. The past nine months have been a wild ride, but at the same time, I feel that aside from the possible future side effects of radiation, I am a better person as a result. I find myself happier, much more appreciative of everything I have, and willing and able to make positive changes in my life to make things better for myself and my family. Also, my hunch that I have the most amazing family and friends was proved to be correct. My family and friends held my hand during this entire time and wouldn’t leave my corner during this fight. I thank you so much. I will always be appreciative and indebted to you all.

I guess this is it; dare I say I’ve reached the end of my blog? Ending it would mean that I am thinking positive and that I won’t need to share the trials and tribulations of having cancer ever again. Thank you so much for reading and keeping me going. I really do hope that the next time I do go to Seattle it really will be to just go for the Piroshkies, and to see friends and family of course.

PS-Thanks to all the musicians/bands who gave me great song titles for the titles of my blog entries:

Waiting For My Real Life To Begin- Colin Hay
Today The Suns On Us- Sophie Ellis Bextor
Hasn’t Hit Me Yet- Blue Rodeo
Fall Apart Again- Brandi Carlile
Power of Two- Indigo Girls
I Don’t Want To Talk About It- Rod Steward
Man on The Run- Cowboy Mouth
No Miracle, No Dazzle- Blue Rodeo
Everything Old is New Again- Barenaked Ladies
Beautiful Day- U2
I Will- Beatles
Poker Face- Lady Gaga
Only a Dream- Mary Chapin Carpenter
I’d Rather Press On-Gordon Lightfoot
Reasons Why- Nickel Creek
Closer to Fine- Indigo Girls
Spring- Cheryl Wheeler
Nothing More's Gonna Get In My Way Supergrass
Fast As I Can- Great Big Sea
What Went Wrong (In Your Head)- Supergrass
Hope Alone-Indigo Girls
Where is My Mind-Pixies
Wisheries- John Gorka
Always Getting Better, Blue Rodeo
Sugar, Sugar- The Archies
As Cool as I Am – Dar Williams
Come Back Down – Toad the Wet Sprocket
Thank you – Tori Amos
Vacation – The Go-Go’s
Here Comes the Sun – The Beatles
Man on the Run – Cowboy Mouth
Sounds Strange –Captain Tractor
All I Want – Toad the Wet Sprocket
The Luckiest – Ben Folds
It Happens Every Day – Dar Williams
Pushing the Needle Too Far – Indigo Girls
We Didn’t Start the Fire (Okay, so maybe I did.) – Billy Joel
Who Needs Sleep? – Barenaked Ladies

Today The Sun's On Us

At Wendy’s memorial on Saturday, her step-dad Dale told everyone that he’d been seeing a lot of yellow butterflies fluttering around since Wendy’s passing. I couldn’t really hear everything he was saying, but I am pretty sure he said he believed the butterflies were her spirit being present around us. I’ve always thought those types of things were coincidences or us trying to hobnail pieces together to make ourselves feel better. But, I have to say I do find it interesting that the moment Melissa and Desi (who are mutual friends of both Wendy and I) arrived for the picnic today, a yellow butterfly buzzed us and came right into our circle, did a fly by and then flew off. Later in the day a jogger ran by the picnic with a shirt that simply read, “Team Wendy.” I may be grasping at straws to feel connections with my departed friend, but I have to say, it was pretty darn awesome.

Speaking of awesome, wow, what a picnic! Twenty-one adults, seventeen kiddos, one dog, and I swear a near twenty pound chocolate cake made by Addi’s Aunt Jeanne gathered by Lake Washington for my celebration picnic today. The majority of people were classmates of mine from Ketchikan, some of whom I haven’t seen in over fifteen years! People drove from all over Washington and as far as Oregon and boy did I feel special. I tried to spend time with everyone who came, but found it hard to spend as much time with people as I wanted to. Five hours flies by fast when visiting with people one hasn’t seen in a long time. For me, the best part was watching our kids play with each other as if they’d known each other for years.





Strangely enough, getting cancer had its benefits. For one, my girls got to spend a lot more time with both their grandmother’s, which was beneficial not only for my girls, but for their grandma’s as well. Second, it put me back in contact with a lot of friends I had lost touch with over the years. I’ve also been able to spend time with friends that I only see once in a blue moon. And, I got to see Wendy twice before she died. It’s got me thinking that it’s unfortunate it had to take me getting cancer to help me see the value in seeing my friends and family more often, but it’s something I’ll never take for granted again.



My weekend started out cloudy and full of tears, but it ended with sunshine and smiles. I hear the weather has been cruddy in Juneau. Well get ready folks, because even if it’s cloudy, I’m bringing enough sunshine to go around.

Hasn't Hit Me Yet

My friend Elizabeth flew in from Minnesota for the week and it really couldn’t have been at a better time. If she hadn’t of come, I probably would have holed up in the condo and swam in gloom and doom until my fingers were pruned.

Elizabeth and I met in college while doing a show together called Starmites. It’s a terribly written musical that takes place in outer space. I played the role of a Nazi Banshee and Elizabeth was the leader of the Banshee pack and her character’s name was simply Diva, which I might add really fits my friend. It’s a title she is okay with and we lovingly call her, “Diva E.” In auditions, I was the plain no make-up girl in a t-shirt, jeans and running shoes with my hair pulled back in a pony tail, and she was the girl with spandex, character shoes and hair as big as all the members in an 80s hair band combined. When she walked into the auditions (I swear she kicked the door open and the theme from Fame played) all I could think of was, “Please don’t sit by me, please don’t sit by me.” She sat right by me and we became the best of friends. As my dad says, Elizabeth is the one who taught me how to be a girl. She showed me how to do my makeup, fix my hair and taught me that it’s not a mortal sin to wear a dress. Lena’s middle name is Elizabeth, after her.

It is impossible to be sad around Elizabeth. Within an hour of Diva E. landing, she and Mini E. were singing all the songs from Annie and Sound of Music, with the perfect choreography to go with each song. I was laughing really hard and enjoying the show watching while Aurelia yearned to join them. Elizabeth accompanied me to my radiation in the mornings and she was with my on Wednesday when I walked in and the radiation team told me “Congratulations, it’s your last day!” My response was simply, “No it’s not.”

Back in June was I was given a calendar with all dates and time slots for my radiation and it went until July 20th, so when they told me on July 14th that I was done, I was a bit confused. It turns out they were right. There was a miscommunication between my doctor and the coordinator and I only had to do 17 treatments, not 20. Elizabeth and the radiation team were jumping up and down celebrating and I just stood there looking really confused, and most likely really stupid. I wasn’t ready to be done. I hadn’t mentally prepared myself that after 7 ½ months of treatments, that today would be my last day. I can’t really describe what I was feeling. There was a combination of shock, happiness, relief and fear. Yes, fear. As they bolted me into position, I was choking back tears as my mind flew a million miles a minute. There was relief that it was all finally over, but also fear that kept coming up in my head. What if this comes back some day and I have to go through all this again? I tried to push the thought out of my head, but it wouldn’t budge. And of course, I thought about Wendy.

When I came out of the radiation room, the team and Elizabeth clapped and cheered for me. They had me ring a bell three times to signal that I was done with radiation. I also received a certificate of completion.

Elizabeth and I celebrated by heading straight to Piroshky, Piroshky. I then went and bought Lena a dress. On all my trips to Seattle for chemo, I always bought a dress to bring back to Lena as a gift. For some reason, she calls them her “Alaska Airlines Dresses.” I wanted to get her a “Celebration Dress” to close out this chapter for her too. Then we went to Nordstrom’s where Elizabeth insisted I get a makeover at the Smashbox makeup counter. The makeup artist was super sweet and even “styled” my short hair for the first time since its grown back.

We ended our day by venturing up to Swedish Hospital to meet and visit with Janice who is a new friend of mine. She is currently undergoing chemo to fight cancer and is an avid reader of my blog. Her cousin Travis who I’ve known for years turned her onto my blog so she would know others are going through what she is going through. It was weird being back in a room filled with all the smells and drugs that made me sick at one time, but it also felt good being there as living proof that those drugs work and that it was all worth it. I look forward to keeping in touch with Janice as she too gets to celebrate her remission in the near future.

I’ve been asked a lot if my picnic is canceled on Sunday due to the fact that Wendy’s memorial is on Saturday. I’ve really thought hard and long about it. I can’t say that I’ve been in much of a celebratory mood, but I finally came to a conclusion. I am here, I am alive. People could be coming to my funeral instead of a party to celebrate the fact that I’m still here. The plain and simple fact of the matter is, I’d rather being going to a party with Wendy than without her and I hope my friends feel the same way about me. Too many times we don’t spend enough time in our lives celebrating our friendships and oftentimes, it’s too late. It’s a good lesson to be learned- we need celebrate our friendships and good health and the plain and simple fact that- we can.

With that said, Saturday is going to be hard. Even though I am aware of Wendy’s death and I’ve cried every day since Sunday, I can’t say it’s really hit me yet. None of this has hit me. I’ll still expect to see Brian on the Pacific Queen, I’ll still expect to hear Wendy’s loud voice booming through the crowd on Saturday, and after 7 ½ months, I can’t get used to the fact that I am done with all of this. When things are so ingrained in your life, it’s a bit of a shock when it’s all suddenly gone and over, whether it was welcomed or not.

So what’s next? I have Wendy’s memorial on Saturday, Sunday I’m having a Seattle celebration picnic (12:00 at Madrona Park,) and on Monday I am meeting with both my oncologist and my radiation specialist to discuss my future as a survivor in remission. Then finally, Tuesday I get to come back home to Juneau!

Fall Apart Again

Wendy died today. I found out first on Facebook which is not the way I want to find out that one of my oldest and dearest friends has died. I wonder who takes pride on broadcasting someone’s death less than 20 minutes after they die, before her close friends even have the chance to hear about it. It was so unfathomable that I had to call my friend Melissa to confirm it. Unfortunately, Melissa confirmed exactly what I read on Facebook.

This comes less than 24 hours after hearing of a close family friend’s death who died on his boat just yesterday. And less than 12 hours since I called 911 because Aurelia was choking and my mom and I couldn’t get whatever was in her mouth out even though we were smacking her back so hard I thought for sure we were breaking ribs. Thankfully, while I was on the phone, she swallowed whatever it was and started breathing again. The fire department still came and gave her the thumbs up. But seriously; Brian’s death, Aurelia’s big scare, and now Wendy. I just can’t take this anymore. I have no more nerves left. I thought there would be a point where the tears have stopped flowing because there were none left, but I’ve cried what seems like buckets and they are still flowing.

Wendy’s death isn’t hitting me hard just because she is my friend. Wendy and I were diagnosed with cancer around the same time. Tonight I re-read the e-mail she sent me on January 20th, a couple weeks after I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s. She told me she was having troubles breathing and that she had a lump on her lung and wondered what she should do about it. I told her to go see a doctor and insist on them doing a biopsy. Next thing I know, she has her lung removed and then less than three months after that, she’s gone. In the end, Wendy’s brain tumors got too big and started causing her to have strokes. She was supposed to start Radiation tomorrow to reduce the size of them, but she ended up in the hospital again just a few days after I saw her last week. Last night, she suffered a brain hemorrhage, was put on life support, and was taken off this morning. Even though I knew Wendy’s diagnosis was not good, I thought she’d have at least a year, not a few days. I wanted to be there to fight it with her and extend her life as long as she could fight it. I wanted to be able to hold her hand again, laugh at our mismatched friendship, and most importantly help her in any way that I could. She was not supposed to be the Hillary in this friendship, neither of were supposed to be. She lost this battle just as I was getting ready to celebrate my victory. It really takes the wind out of my sails leaving it difficult to even want to celebrate.

When Wendy was here on Tuesday, I could tell that she was very afraid to die. She was very sad at the thought of leaving her children who meant the world to her. In a way I find comfort in the fact that she will not spend the next year worrying about leaving them behind, but I also feel for Austin and Kassi who were shortened time with their beautiful mother. I know she was in an incredible amount of pain, but I hope in her final moments, she did not know that she was dying.

The picture at the top is my favorite picture of the two of us. We're in seventh grade and Wendy was being her regular silly self. I was laughing so hard the smile on my face is about to burst. This is how I will remember my friend, always making me smile.

Goodbye Ydnew. I guess you got your way, you got to keep your hair. Although, I must say I was looking forward to you sporting a Harley Davidson Skull cap. Love, Secnarf.

I feel as though just as things were starting to improve in my life, I was just knocked back down. When will this end?

Power of Two

Cristina and Bryan had a beautiful wedding, surrounded by giant trees, lavender, a few hundred brightly colored Chinese lanterns, beautiful local flowers, family, and friends. One couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day as they exchanged their vows under an arch of lavender. I stood in place with the other bridesmaids and watched Lena prance down the aisle gracefully scattering flower petals with flourish, dramatically tossing her hands up in the air to make sure the petals were properly distributed. When she reached the end of the aisle, she tipped her basket upside down and shook it to make sure every last petal was out and in its place on the ground. I couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time.

Like most weddings, there was a lot to be done before the big day. I told Cristina I would put the flowers together, do the bridesmaids hair, and be the stand in wedding coordinator telling people what to do so she wouldn’t have to. I spent most the day on Friday assembling bouquets, boutonnières, and table arrangements. I had beautiful flowers to work with and I also used greenery and lavender from Cristina and Bryan’s property. It was a lot of work, but quite soothing at the same time to make something beautiful for a beautiful dear friend. It was Cristina who came to Seattle with me when I was getting my biopsy surgery back in January. It was Cristina who was with me when my oncologist told me I had cancer. It was Cristina who watched Aurelia that night because I was admitted to the hospital because I was too sick from the gas induction to go home. It’s Cristina who I e-mailed and texted several times a day the last six months using her wedding as a distraction from my cancer.

While I was in Oregon, I also had the chance to see Wendy who was freshly out of the hospital. Our visit was short because we knew we’d see each other in a few days when she came up to see her oncologist in Seattle. The Seattle visit was emotional and hard. Wendy got really bad news about her cancer while in Seattle. She kept saying it’s now all about the quality of her life verses the quantity. What do you say to that? I wanted to hug her and say, “It’s going to be okay.” But the truth of the matter is, the end result is not okay and I’m not going to lie to her. What can one say in a situation where you know one of your best friends is now looking at quality of life verses quantity? I chose to tell her that I love her and that she needs to stay strong and not give up and to fight it as long as she can. My mom and I also fed her lumpia and hot and sour soup, some of her favorite foods. It was good to see her eat a lot because she looks as though she’s wasting away.

Even though I put on a brave face for Wendy, her visit left me very depressed. She has an eleven year old girl and a thirteen year old boy. This is sadder than Terms of Endearment and Beaches combined, because this is my friend and I am feeling utterly helpless. I was really fretting going to sleep last night when all of a sudden I got a text from Penny who wanted to see how I was doing. After some texts, we realized she was staying in a hotel a mere ten minutes from me, six if I drove fast, which I did. It was awesome seeing her. We talked about Wendy, about our own lives, and about our cruise we’re taking in February. It was a short visit as she had to get up to fly to Buffalo in the morning and I had to get up early to have my port removed, but it was an awesome visit.

Yes, my port is history! As always, it wasn’t a straightforward procedure with me and I was thinking the whole time I wish Dr. Miller in Juneau was doing it. For one, the surgeon who was supposed to do it left me in the hands of his resident. And get this, he didn’t even do it, his intern did the procedure. The resident had to talk his intern through the whole procedure and I heard things like, “Okay, cut more. No, no, that’s too far. Okay, a little to the left, oh, too far, oh wait, no, more.” And, my personal favorite which I heard about ten times, “No! Don’t touch that, it’s not sterile!” They had a really difficult time removing it because they said it was about an inch and a half deeper than they usually are. I heard the resident say, “It’s like digging in a deep, bloody, hole.” Not really the image I wanted. I am afraid to see what my already wicked scar is going to look like now that they’ve butchered me once again. But, it’s out. It’s painful because I have a huge incision in me, but like I said, it’s out! One step closer to being finished.

Oh, and before I forget, I’m having a picnic/BBQ in Seattle on Sunday, July 18th. All Washington and Oregon residents welcome (well, I mean those that I know!) Not sure which park I’m having it at, but I should know in a few days. Stay tuned.