It is true what they say. It's the unexpected moments that get you the most. It's the time when you are just going about your "normal" day that you suddenly get knocked down to your knees. A seemingly ordinary moment to some, is so painful that it takes your breath away.
This was today for me.... ...the first day of school. A day I didn't expect to be much different than any other Tuesday morning. And perhaps that is what makes it sting all the more. That I didn't anticipate the pain - that it caught me off guard. Today was yet another reminder of the most difficult part of this journey. A reminder of all that cancer has stolen from me. A reminder of how deeply it has derailed my life and my future on so many levels. A reminder of what it has not only taken from me, but what it has robbed from Mike as well. The devastating reality that I will never hear a little voice call me, "Mom" and that I will never have the chance to watch Mike become the amazing father I always knew he would be. A reminder that we will never get to experience that moment of taking our child to their first day of school. I saw what seemed like one million facebook pictures of little ones headed off for their first day of school today, I drove behind the school bus while leaving our neighborhood and heard my co-workers talk about the excitement their kids felt as another school year began. It didn't even really hit me then - not until later when yet another patient asked me how long I had been married, followed next by asking if I had children. The question I always dread from those that don't know my dirty little secret that starts with the big "C". After replying with my fake grin and frequently recited, "no, just my 4 legged fur baby", my patient made a remark something to the effect of, "oh you are waiting awhile, huh?" I get this comment a lot, along with...."how old are you...you better get started", or "what are you waiting for?", or even "people your age are selfish nowadays and want to just travel or do other things besides start a family." His question felt like pouring salt in an already excruciating, raw wound. Albeit this is nothing new for me, but I just wasn't expecting it today. I expect the heartache during certain times such as baby showers, photographing newborns, or hearing of others pregnancies. I guess I have learned ways to protect my heart a little bit during those moments. But days like today just take me by surprise. Just like last night did...as I pulled out of a Starbucks parking lot, I saw a little girl fall and skin her knees on the concrete. There was a second of silence, followed abruptly by her loud cry of one word..."Daddy!" I watched him gently scoop her up and soothe her while that sweet little girl clutched her daddy's neck and began to calm down, knowing everything would be okay now that he was there to hold her. I drove out of that parking lot with tears streaming down my face. Not tears for cancer or tears for myself - but tears for Mike. That he may never know what that is like to be the hero in the eyes of his child. Because that is surely what he would be. This is one of the few topics I have never really discussed on my blog, and that is for a few reasons. Not only is it extremely painful and extremely personal, but it is also extremely complicated. I have wanted to be a mother my entire life, and from the second I fell in love with Mike, I couldn't wait to see him become an incredible father to my children. That is the single thing I looked forward to most about our future together. When we began having difficulty trying to get pregnant, I thought it was the worst possible thing we could go through. Then when I learned of my diagnosis and that I would likely be on meds that wouldn't allow me to get pregnant for another 5 years, if at all, I then thought, well, I could always adopt. And I was truly happy with that. But, everything changed after my Stage IV diagnosis. I could write a million paragraphs that attempt to convey the thoughts on my mind and heart about this, but I just don't have the energy. And, in the depths of my own exhaustion and emotional fragility, I am not sure I would do my true feelings justice right now. What I can say is that we have always dreamed of becoming parents, whether our children were biologically ours or not. But, living with Stage IV cancer doesn't bode well for us as adoptive parents and as we have continued along this road, we have learned that even if it was an option, it might not be what is best for us. The decision to pursue adoption brings a lot of risk and potential heartbreak along with it, and I am not sure I am ready to take that on...we have had more than our share already. And even if we were prepared to take that risk, is that what is best for a child? To have a mother that lives from scan to scan with an incurable and deadly disease. As my dear friend Lorri once said, "What's behind their smile? I bet they would never guess what's behind mine." Please remember that everyone you encounter has a story. Just because someone doesn't have children, doesn't mean they don't desperately want them. And even if they could adopt or become a foster parent, it doesn't mean it's the right decision for them. It doesn't mean they are selfish or weird or aren't loving people capable of being wonderful parents. Perhaps it was their choice and they didn't ever want children - that is okay too. Just remember that all of our situations are complicated and that sometimes questions can open wounds that are barely starting to heal. Please believe me when I say that I am truly happy for the blessings bestowed upon my friends or family members that have been able to start a family of their own. I still love documenting the initial days in the life of a newborn through my photography. And part of me doesn't want to completely let go of the hope that I might be able to become a mother some day. But after attending Lorri's funeral service in Cleveland and seeing her two young children there, I just don't know if it's right to bring a baby into our lives, knowing what this disease will likely bring. All I know for sure is that I have a husband that loves me and wants to always put my health above all else. For that, I will always be truly grateful. So, for now, I will try to remain focused on all of the many blessings that I do have. And be thankful that it will be another 364 days before the first day of school again. xoxo, Meg ps - Thank you for all of the kind words regarding the loss of my two dear friends, Lorri & Genevieve. Unfortunately, another one of our friends entered hospice shortly after Lorri died. My friend, Jen is truly remarkable and a single mom to an adorable 6 year old boy. Please keep her and her son, Corbin in your prayers that this time is as peaceful and painfree as possible. Thank you! It's been a wonderful, busy, emotional and difficult summer - all wrapped into one. Thankful for many great memories and experiences, including last weekend at Torch Lake with our friends and their kids. Here are a few quick shots (some from my phone & some from my actual camera) of our relaxing Labor Day weekend....
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I find myself sitting here and typing a few words....then holding down the "delete" key. I make another attempt to start a new sentence, and once again, erase it. Struggling to find the right words is simply a reflection of the struggle I am experiencing in my mind and heart lately.
It has been an extremely difficult week for me. I was absolutely stunned last Saturday when I learned that my friend, Genevieve unexpectedly passed away. I met Gen at the Conference for Young Women with Breast Cancer last year in New Orleans, during a time when I was feeling so desperate to meet any other young women that had Stage IV disease. Meeting Gen and her mom at the conference was a complete Godsend for me. Mike and I spent much of the weekend with them and it felt like I finally found someone that knew exactly how I felt. We were not only traveling this Stage IV metastatic disease road together, but we felt the same about being as positive and optimistic as we could be, eating as healthy as we could and trying to continue to enjoy our lives to the fullest. After meeting Gen at the conference, I wrote about her on the blog which you can read here. Gen had been having a rough few months since she experienced a recurrence of her disease and she was traveling back and forth to various doctors seeking the best care possible. Although I knew she was having a hard time, she was still so full of life and joy. We talked on the phone and over facebook messages and she sounded upbeat and ready to do anything she had to in order to be in remission. She was also busy being an amazing wife and a mother to her two young daughters and even took some time to do the things that she always dreamed of doing, like hiking the Grand Canyon with her husband, and going on an amazing kayaking trip for cancer survivors. Saturday afternoon I was absolutely shook to my core when I received an email notifying me that Gen died suddenly and unexpectedly after her organs started to shut down and she ended up with a pulmonary embolism after receiving a blood transfusion in the ER. It was so fast - so sudden - so unexpected. It still doesn't feel real. I completely lost it and wept so hard not only for the loss of my sweet friend and for the heartache her family was going through, but I also wept for myself - for Mike and my family. Each time I lose a friend, it feels as though I am looking into a crystal ball at what is going to happen to me at some point along this journey. It is devastating, terrifying, and makes me want to scream one second and sob the next. As I tried to put wrap my brain around this news, I just wanted to talk to my friend Lorri. She is my closest friend with Stage IV breast cancer and I introduced to her Genevieve so that we could all support each other. (I know I have wrote about Lorri before and how we instantly bonded after our first 3 hour phone conversation. I just can't find the post right now while I struggle to even get these words out). Lorri and Gen both have young children and I know they had a special bond because of that. I wanted to call Lorri but all I could do was write her an email because she too has been going through a very tough time with her latest recurrence. She decided to seek alternative care in Mexico since she was no longer responding to the chemo from her medical team in the states. Thankfully, once Lorri saw my email, she called me back from Mexico last Saturday so we could both grieve the loss of Gen together. Although we were still in shock after hearing of Gen's passing, of course I wanted to see how Lorri was doing. She had been in communication via text and facebook with me, Gen and four other amazing young women with Stage IV disease that we have now formed a wonderful little support group with -but it was wonderful to hear her voice. She was filled with hope and optimism and beyond thankful that she had made the decision to seek care there. She was dealing with growth of liver metastases and was pretty uncomfortable with her distended abdomen but her medical team was doing all they could to help address that. After catching up for awhile, I told her I loved her and was thinking of her and couldn't wait until she started to feel better. Well, things couldn't feel more different now - just a week later. Over the last week, my beautiful and brave friend has experienced a rapid decline in her health. Each day our group of friends sends countless texts back and forth to get an update and support each other and each day seems to be worse than the one before. Lorri has been on my heart and in my mind every minute of the day over the last week. I desperately want to see a positive update on my phone, but then I am terrified to even look at all the messages I have while I am treating a patient at work, for fear of what I might read. I try to put on a happy face and be my "normal" self when all I can think of is if my friend is going to make it through this. Yesterday, Lorri texted us to say that they were leaving Mexico and headed to a treatment center in San Diego, as her condition was now an emergency that required additional care. She is in liver failure, not eating, having difficulty breathing. Our hearts sank. I woke up this morning at 3:40am with a terrible feeling in my stomach. I checked my phone but didn't have any updates. As I laid my head back on the pillow, my phone vibrated that I had an email. Sure enough, it was an update from Lorri's husband. It wasn't good. She has suffered a heart attack, her platelets are too to do anything about the heart attack, she is at a severe risk of bleeding, she is having trouble breathing, her liver is failing. Her family and children are flying in. They are devastated. I feel sick - numb - angry - terrified. How is this happening? How am I going to lose my two closest friends in such a short time? And it feels so damn fast. Lorri was just sky diving a few months ago, while Gen was hiking the Grand Canyon. I just don't understand this. I am heartbroken for their families and friends. I am saddened for our group of friends that is reeling from this news, while one of them is recovering from brain surgery due to mets, another is trying like crazy to save her life through a clinical trial, and another is also caring for her husband with Stage IV lung cancer while she is living with her own Stage IV disease. It's all just too much. How do I try to stay positive, optimistic and hopeful about my disease, while my friends are dying from the exact same thing? I know all of our situations are different, but it is terrifying nonetheless. How do I read a message from Gen's husband about how much he already misses he best friend and beautiful bride, and not think of Mike writing a similar message at some point down the road. How do I live with such gratitude that I am doing so well, while at the same time feeling such survivor's guilt while my friends struggle to hang on and while I am terrified that the good news won't last long enough for me. How do you live like this? With these thoughts running through your mind and weighing on your heart constantly. I do my best to take it minute by minute but right now I am just so sad - and angry. I have never gone through that angry stage before but I'm getting there now. I am angry that people act like we are making such strides against this disease, while I watch my friends die. I am angry that their sweet babies won't be able to grow up with their incredible and selfless mommas. I am angry that they had so much more living to do. I am angry that despite doing everything humanly possible and seeking the best medical treatment available, this disease is still robbing the world of these wonderful women. I am asking for your prayers for my dear friend, Lorri. Please pray that she is not suffering - that she is able to rest her weary body and have some moments of peace with her husband and children. Please pray for Gen's family too as they try to move forward and deal with a life without her Earthly presence. And please pray for Mike and I as we struggle to get through this. I know I have said before that this is a rollercoaster, and I know there will be highs and lows. This is one of the deepest lows I have experienced yet, and I am struggling to get through it. I am so terrified at how fast this happened to my friends and it's impossible to not let my mind go there about my own situation. Please pray for our hearts to be comforted, our minds to be eased, and that we will continue to do our best to live in the moment. Lastly, please don't tell me that I "will be fine" or that I need to "stay positive" and that "none of us know when it will be our time." If you know me at all, you know I am positive and optimistic. But if you know this disease at all, you know that it is very real, very deadly, and very unpredictable. I am not "fine", nor will I ever be "fine". Every day presents some sort of emotional or physical struggle that I do my best to get through. I live in the face of death each day, although I may look very alive and seem like I am doing just fine. I am beyond thankful for doing well right now and that is why I harbor so much guilt even sharing these thoughts, but I need to be able to release them somewhere. I am grateful that I am living life to the fullest, that I can go to work, that I can spend time with family and friends, that I can renovate our new home with Mike - but that doesn't mean that these thoughts and fears aren't on my mind every single day - especially during such difficult times when my friends are suffering so much. Thank you for supporting me not only during the good time, but especially during the hard times when I need it the most. xoxo, Meg ps - I cannot thank my Beauts enough for being the best friends that I could ever hope for. We had our annual girls weekend away this past weekend and it was exactly what I needed. Although I found myself constantly checking my phone to see if there were any updates from Lorri, I was able to spend true quality time with the friends that have been there for me since I was in the 7th grade - laughing so hard it hurt and loving each other the way only true friends do. You all mean the world to me. Yesterday, I was introduced to NED! "No evidence of disease"!!!!
I saw Dr. F for my results of my latest round of scans and immediately burst into tears when they told us that the scans looked great and that I was still boring just like 6 months ago. :) But, what shocked me even more was the fact that the bone scan said there was no evidence of metastatic disease in my bones! Well, hello there NED!!!! Now, let me please explain that Dr. F doesn't put a whole lot of stock in those words. He said he doesn't get "overly excited or impressed" and that these scanning machines are not perfect. He says it's much like looking down from an airplane and trying to see a dandelion in a field. It's near impossible to spot just one but if there are a lot of them in a big patch, you can see them easily. So, he basically means I still could have little isolated cancer cells in my body but right now there isn't enough of them to be detected on the scans. I have always understood this and I am okay with that. I understand that sometimes people hang their hats on "NED" and then they have a scan a few months later that shows a change and they have a huge let down after feeling like they were as close to "cancer free" as possible. I truly understand that and I have always been happy to hear that I am "stable"...but for right now...for just a few days (or months)...I am going to be extremely thrilled that I am hanging out with NED! I know it doesn't mean I am cancer free or that I am cured. It means that right now my medicine continues to work and keep me in remission. It means that I can continue with my current treatment. It means that my bones, although still damaged, are healing. And most importantly, it means that I can continue having a really amazing quality of life. The few side effects I experience from my meds (hot flashes, fatigue, joint aches) are so minimal in the scheme of things and I don't let a day go by where I am not grateful for that. There are still little things we will keep an eye on. My platelets are on the low side and I have been having a lot of issues with bruising. If those continue to drop, I will have to have a bone marrow biopsy to see if my meds are impacting my body's platelet production. There are a few other minor issues I have been having but nothing big and nothing that Dr. F is really worried about. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for all of your support, love and prayers! I couldn't be happier and couldn't be more grateful. I do believe in the power of prayer - I believe in God's ability to work miracles and I am not giving up the faith that maybe there is one in store for me. It has taken me this long to truly be able to even put those words out in the universe, but maybe - just maybe, I could live a long, healthy life in complete remission without this awful beast robbing me of my future. For now, I am believing that this can happen for me and I will continue to fall asleep each night with a smile on my face...dreaming of NED. ;) With a grateful and overjoyed heart, Meg xoxo This is definitely the longest I have ever gone without updating the blog. I'm sorry for worrying some of you. I started hearing more and more comments like, "I hope everything is okay - you haven't updated your blog in awhile." Rest assured that you can take it as a good thing and it just means that I have been busy living my life and trying my best to not think about cancer...although there isn't a day that goes by that I escape it. The past month or so has been a full one - we celebrated my birthday (and 2nd Cancerversary!!!), Mike started his busy baseball season, photography sessions are picking up, and....we bought a house! Woohooo! We closed on our house the second week in April and we are very excited about it. Mike and his best friend, Justin have already gutted a ton of the house. We have started some major renovations and can't wait to see it all come together. We will continue living at my Mom and Doug's house until most of the remodeling is complete. It is an exciting time for us and we are so grateful to have found a home in our favorite area - where we have more space, less noise, and are surrounded by deer and all sorts of beautiful wildlife....all while being only 20 minutes from my Mom, 10 minutes from the Karmanos satellite I am treated it, and even closer to work. I'll keep you all posted on our renovation process (which has become a part time job!) - you know I will document it all with my trusty camera. :) I continue to feel pretty good and I couldn't be more grateful for that. My hot flashes have been a real annoyance lately and I have been dealing with sleep disturbances for quite awhile now. I know that insomnia is extremely common with cancer patients and although I don't think I truly have insomnia, I can't remember the last time I have been able to sleep through the night. My back has been feeling good and I am so grateful to be able to work and exercise with minimal pain - although it always does remind me when I start to over do it and need to rest. I saw my oncologist, Dr. F on my birthday and he was pleased with how I am doing. He agreed with my thoughts that we should just stay the course with my current treatment as long as it's working. I continue on my oral meds as well as my monthly injections into my abdomen. Dr. F even went as far as to say that I don't need to see him for 12 weeks (instead of 8), and that I could even bump my scans back to every 9 months instead of 6! Although I love the idea that I don't need to see him for 12 weeks, I am not quite ready to push the scans back to every 9 months. The thought of that just really scares me right now so we are going to stick with the 6 month schedule. I have friends scanned every 3 months and it's terrifying to me how much has changed with their disease in that short time, so I don't want to go too long between my tests. I am just happy to be doing well enough for him to even suggest that. And to think that I don't have to see him for 12 weeks when there used to be a time that I saw him every single week - it just makes me very happy, relieved and grateful. My next round of scans is scheduled for June 5 and then I will get the results on June 13 when I see Dr. F next. Of course, I always appreciate extra prayers around scan time, so thanks in advance for that. :) I also want to extend thanks to all of you that offered words of encouragement and prayers for my dear friend, Jeanne' that I wrote about in my last post and for all of my Mets Babes. Little did I know that while I was actually writing that last post, Jeanne' had passed away. I found out the next morning - on my birthday. It was a very difficult time for many of us - to say the least, but I am grateful to know she is in a better place, and finally able to rest her tired body. I hope everyone is doing well. Thank you for your continued love and support. xoxo, Meghan ps-Team Meghan Malley Rally is once again participating in the Detroit Race for the Cure. Please come join us on May 18th (even if you don't officially register). More info can be found here... http://www.active.com/donate/detroitRFTC13/2013MMalley Some quick snapshots of all of our happenings lately....you can also find my "picture a day" challenge over on Instagram - follow me @megmalley to see what I am up to, including more house updates! Some sneak peeks of the new house projects....
It's hard to believe another year has passed. Another year of holidays spent with family, late night laughs with girlfriends, and curling up in bed with Mike and the pup. Another year of blessings. Another year filled with so much gratitude. Truly - I am grateful. But, as much as I want to feel excited for my birthday (which is tomorrow), and relieved to reach another cancerversary (on the 23rd), I am just struck with deep sadness right now. This has been a brutal few days for what we refer to as our group of "Mets Babes". My incredibly strong, brave and supportive friends that live with metastatic breast cancer just like I do. I met a great group of them on a forum through Kris Carr's online community. Coming into contact with these women online was the first time since my diagnosis that I felt like someone else truly "got it". I had finally found other women that knew what life with stage IV breast cancer was like. Sure they knew all about the physical effects, but more so, they knew about the emotional and psychological damage this disease can take on your spirit and heart. One of the first women that reached out to me was Jeanne'. She quickly became a shining light for me - a beacon of hope - a trusted friend - and an invaluable source of support and strength. She would check on me all the time and write me messages to keep my spirits up and remind me how strong I was. She let me confide in her all of my deepest feelings about my wish to become a mother and she shared in my sorrow since she herself had been trying to adopt when she was diagnosed. Although I never met her in person, Jeanne' had become a fast friend and one I cherished very much. I found out early Tuesday morning that Jeanne' had taken a sudden turn for the worse and is now facing her final days on this Earth. Her body is shutting down and failing her. I have been heartbroken ever since I heard the news. On top of that, two of my other dear friends have had progressions this week after being in remission for quite awhile. It has been a bad week for us, Mets Babes. I am not only devastated for Jeanne' and her family, but also sad for my friends that face a recurrence of their disease. And on top of all of that, I am terrified for myself. I am so scared because this all hits so close to home. How is it possible that my friend that appeared so vibrant and alive just a couple weeks ago, is now facing the end of her life? It terrifies me at how fast this can happen - how fast our lives can change. Am I looking into a crystal ball at what is going to happen to me? The reality is that I am one appointment away from not being "fine". From bad news- from new treatments - from more chemo - from crappy side effects - from a decreased quality of life. I don't live in fear - I really don't. But how can I not be completely rattled when this is happening to my friends? How can I not be angry, frustrated, heartbroken and devastated by this? It is not normal to be 30 years old and have so many friends die. So as I approach my birthday and the second anniversary of my diagnosis, I will try my best to remain hopeful, optimistic and grateful. But, I will have a heavy heart for dear Jeanne' and for all of my other mets babes that continue to travel this road along with me. "Aging is a privilege denied to many." I am truly grateful for another year - and I so desperately want many, many more! xoxo, Meg ps - Even as I type this I feel guilty about not being super upbeat and positive. But, I hope you - my friends and family, and even those that I haven't met but know me through my words - can understand that I need this blog to be a place where I can be true to me. A place where I can be true to my authentic thoughts and feelings - whether good or bad. I am grateful for this life and it is a beautiful one. But, it is a very difficult life too. And I need to give myself permission to share that here - in my little piece of cyberspace. Thank you for all of the love and understanding. Been so busy lately that I haven't picked up my camera as much as I would like. So here is my life in Instagram pics :) [I wanted to wait until it was completely official to let everyone know that we sold our house. It's something we have thought about for a long time - well before my diagnosis. As we look forward to the next chapter of our lives, I can't help but feel a deep sadness at this bittersweet goodbye. I wanted to share what I wrote a couple days ago while I tried to pack up our home....]
I sit here on your beautiful wood floor, in a seemingly empty room, yet one packed with endless memories. I can hear the echo of my own breathe against your bare walls. As I sit in the warm light of my favorite room, I am so overcome with emotions. I can't stop the tears from flowing. I have loved you for so long - you have been a part of our lives - our family - our story - our legacy. And this goodbye is so much harder than I ever imagined it would be. I remember the first time I drove by and saw you. I was so excited that my hardworking (then) boyfriend had saved up enough to purchase his first home. The first one of all his friends to have a place of his own. I was always scoping out the local neighborhoods and searching online for the perfect place for him - knowing one day it would become my home too. I remember driving by you one summer day and I'm sorry to say that I didn't give you much thought. You had been empty for over a year and looked like you could have used a a good dose of TLC. Little did I know that Mike would end up buying you a month or so later and that we would spend 7 1/2 wonderful years here together. We have put so much love and attention into you, our beautiful first home. We have taken such great pride in owning you and creating our life here. There are have been countless memories here that we will never forget. So many fun parties with friends, spending our first day as husband and wife here, and welcoming our sweet pup into our lives and into this home. But, we have experienced a lot of pain here as well. I will never forget the day we moved Mike's mom into the guest bedroom as she entered hospice care. We were so young, and yet we knew this is where she needed to be - with us, in this house - where we could care for her and be with her as we had to say our final good byes. As we picked up the pieces from her loss, it was in this home that we grieved while also trying to plan for a future - a future that included our beautiful wedding, many incredible travels, and of course, plans to expand our family and have children. We spent many nights up in our bedroom talking about which baby names we liked best, how we would decorate a nursery, and how we couldn't wait to bring a sweet baby into our lives - into this home. It was in this house that I cried over the first negative pregnancy test, and a few more negative tests following that one. It was here that Mike would hold me and tell me that it would all be okay and that we would eventually have the family we wanted so badly. And it was also here that on March 23, 2011 our world came crashing down. It was in this house, in our bed that we wept and feared for the road ahead as we learned of my cancer diagnosis. It was in this house that my family came over to rally around me that first day - to hold me in the silence and share my tears. It was here that Mike and I laid in bed the night before my spine biopsy to see if my cancer had spread, and I looked into his eyes and said, "I know this is going to be bad." As our lives turned into a tailspin of doctors appointments, rounds of chemo, and an emotional roller coaster, it was you, sweet house- it was you that become our refuge. My best girls redecorated our bedroom and made a peaceful oasis for me as I spent countless hours in bed. It was here that all of our loved ones gathered together for a "Love Fest" before chemo started. It was within your comforting and familiar walls that I recovered after each chemo treatment, every surgery, and each round of radiation. It was you I always wanted to get back to. To rest my tired and weary body, to console my broken heart and spirit, to spend the cherished moments alone with Mike and Wrig - who are my life. It was on your stairs that I passed out in the middle of the night after my first round of chemo. I scared Mike so badly. It was in your cozy basement family room where I lived in a recliner for nearly a month while I recovered from a grueling double mastectomy. It was here that I received hundreds of cards, deliveries and well wishes while I truly fought for my life. So, while our lives here have been filled with more blessings than I could ever count, we have also endured great pain and heartache here. Our lives are now forever changed and it's time for a fresh start. Time to let go of the past and what we thought could have been. To embrace each moment and look ahead to the future. A future filled with unknowns but a future nonetheless. I spent many tearful weeks and months within your embrace, wondering if there would ever be a time I could dream again - plan again - look forward to the future again. Would I have a future after being diagnosed with Stage IV cancer? So, moving on and saying goodbye to you is so much more than wanting a new house. It symbolizes that I have finally got there - finally made it to the point where I can look ahead and truly believe that I have a much more living to do. It may not be the life I thought I would have - it might be filled with more pain and heartache than I ever thought I would know - but it is also filled with more love and happiness than most people ever have the privilege to experience. As much as I used to look forward to a new "bigger and better" home, I now know that it's not about that. I am no longer seeking anything bigger and better - nothing could replace the life that Mike and I have built here in our quaint first home. We don't need "bigger and better" - we just need a new beginning. A peaceful place that hasn't witnessed the pain that you have witnessed here. A home that may not ever be filled with children, but it will be filled with the love of so many friends and family members. A home that will soon be helping us create new memories filled with just as much joy as we have had here. I will miss you so much, 910 Harvard. Although we are moving on, we have cherished the years we have spent with you and they will always remain some of the best days of our lives. We are taking a leap of faith and praying that we find what we are looking for - a home we can love just as much as we have loved you. A place to start our next chapter and begin a new adventure. Your new owner is lucky to have you and we hope he cherishes his days here just as much as we have. Thank you for all the memories. xoxo, Meghan I have been doing a lot of soul searching lately. A lot of deep thinking. Reflecting. Evaluating. Processing. I have had a difficult few weeks - for many reasons that I don't even have the energy to get into. I know that the feelings I have experienced lately are justified, and yet I feel that even as I type them I should immediately erase each word and be grateful for all of my blessings. I am discovering that I don't quite understand how to let myself have tough days and feel those heartbreaking emotions, and let myself cry and be sad for a bit, without feeling like I am ungrateful. If I am stressed out, upset or frustrated and try to process those emotions, I immediately feel like I need to just let it all go and stop complaining because I know how much worse everything could be. I remind myself that my scans came out good so how dare I worry or complain about anything. I found out today that I lost a friend from my support group. She was 43 with 2 kids and had metastatic breast cancer too. What could I possibly have to complain about? But I know this isn't healthy. I know that I am not only allowed to feel these emotions, but I know that it's important to do so. But why can't I just let myself do it? How do I balance processing the frustration and sadness I often feel about my life while also balancing it with my true sense of gratitude and joy. I feel like I am in a constant state of emotional turmoil. I've said it before, and I will say it again - the emotional and psychological aspect of living with this disease is far greater than any physical discomfort I have ever experienced. I don't know what I would do without my "inner circle" of close family & friends. You know who you are. The ones I can share everything with and I know you won't judge me - you won't try to tell me that everything is fine and try to make it all better. You listen and you love me and you offer guidance that is so appreciated. I have relied on you all even more lately and I can't thank you enough for your support. I mean it when I say I would be totally lost without you. Physically, I am doing pretty well. Tomorrow I will get my shots in the morning before I head into work. I am still having some issues with my reconstruction - despite having surgery again in November - but I saw Dr. M a week or so ago and he isn't too concerned, despite the unusual symptoms I am now experiencing. I am having some chest/arm pain but thankfully I work with some great PT's that are helping me with that. A perk of the job. :) I continue to battle constant hot flashes, back pain and difficulty sleeping - but I would take that all in a heartbeat for continued clean scans! In a nutshell - everything is great, but I know I need some help on how to process all of the emotions and thoughts that run through my head and heart every day. I plan on looking into that soon. Thank you for always keeping us in your prayers. Please add my friend Reem's family to them this week. May she rest in peace. xoxo, Meghan A message I enjoyed this week... Happy 6th birthday to my baby boy, Wrigley. Thank you for making my feet warmer, my days brighter, and my heart happier. My life is better because you are in it.
New favorite word #1.....STABLE! The scan results are in and everything looks good! Stable...no evidence of active disease...nothing new...continued healing of the affected spots throughout my spine. Can I get an "AMEN!".....Woohooooo!!!!!!!
Second favorite word..."Boring". That's what Dr. F called me today and I take that as the biggest compliment I have received in a long time. I have yearned to be "boring" - medically speaking, anyways. Although Dr. F doesn't get all excited and enthusiastic, he did express his satisfaction with these results and said we will just keep the course since it seems to be working well and keeping my disease dormant...and that's what we are hoping and praying for, for a long long time! No other real news to report - I will continue with my two injections into my abdomen every 4 weeks, follow up with Dr. F every 8 weeks and continue to be scanned every 6 months. I wish there were better words for me to use to truly convey my appreciation and gratitude to all of you for your love, support and prayers...but really there is nothing else I can say except for a HUUUUGGGEEEE, "THANK YOU!" Thank you so very much for everything. Truly. You have no idea how much comfort and hope it brings me to know so many people are thinking of us, praying for us, and supporting us. It really does make a huge impact on Mike and I, and I hope you all know how immensely grateful we are. What an incredible start to 2013! If these results are any indication of what this year has in store for us, I think it's going to be an amazing year. Happy New Year to all of you and I wish you all nothing but health and happiness in 2013! xoxo, Meg Dear Santa,
I hear you will be coming to town tonight...and maybe even stopping by on my rooftop. I have long understood that your anticipated visit is contingent upon my behavior this year. What's that you ask?....Was I good this year? Did I behave? Have I listened to my mother, done my chores, ate my veggies? Well, I can assure you that I have most definitely done the latter...I have surely ate well over my weight in kale, cucumbers, and spinach this year. Santa, I promise that I have listened to my momma (most of the time) and to my doctors (all of the time). I have taken my medications, cared for my radiated burned skin, and emptied my surgical drains. I have allowed my body to rest, but I've also pushed it at times when I wanted to feel like my old self again. This year I have tried to make a difference. I have volunteered my time. I have shared my story. I have spoke to thousands. I have attended conferences and meetings. I have tried to be a source of support for those newly diagnosed. I have returned to work, albeit on a (very) part time basis. I have started a small business that fuels my creative side. I have invested time, money, and energy into activities that feed my soul. I have traveled, visited friends, and tried to spend as much time as possible with those I love the most. But Santa, I have to come clean and tell you that I have not been perfect. I must admit, I have fallen off the wagon with my exercise routine. That has really been bothering me and will definitely be a priority for 2013. I have been unsuccessful at giving up my beloved Diet Coke and I'm fearful I may now be considered an "addict". And while we are on the subject of confessions, I will acknowledge to you that I am still a terribly inconsistent flosser. I have also been hard on myself this year, Santa. I have dealt with a lot of guilt, frustrations, and sadness. I have often felt lost while I try to understand how to live a life where I am not the PT that works the most hours and sees the most patients - where I am not a mother, nor will I be a "mother to be" -- I am a 30 year old woman that often feels worried sick about her husband and mother, should anything ever happen to me. I am a constant work in progress - learning how to ride these waves until the storm passes, and hoping for many days of sunshine until the next set of dark clouds start to roll in. Santa, although I am guilty of occasionally losing my patience, taking my husband for granted, or being sassy with my mom - I promise that I have tried my best to make it on your "good list" this year. I have tried to be positive and optimistic, open-minded and understanding, hopeful and grateful - each and every day. I have tried to be a good wife, daughter, sister and friend. I have tried to live each day to the fullest, to restrain myself from useless complaints, and to appreciate all of the blessings in my life and in doing so, take the focus away from the many hardships our family continues to face. So, if I may ask for just one thing this year, Santa...I am please asking (or more like begging) for a good report from my scans on January 3. I would please LOVE clean scans that show no new growth of this disease, so that I may continue to enjoy this beautiful life. That I may continue to live each day with the same quality of life that I experience now. That I can continue to strive to reach my dreams with Mike. So I can watch my friends children grow up, and so I can be here to take care of my parents one day instead of them taking care of me - that's just not the way it's supposed to work. Tomorrow morning I will wake up next to my best friend, and feel the weight of my pup at my feet, and I will smile like I do each morning. A smile of thanks for another day. As I make my way to the family room, I won't expect anything from you under the tree. I will hold out hope that the one and only gift I truly pray for will arrive next week in the form of a good report from my oncologist, Dr. F. Thank you for listening, Santa. Merry Christmas to you and to all of those that I love. xoxo, Meghan I'm having a tough time getting into the Christmas spirit this year. I don't know why or what that's about. I think I just feel tired. I keep waiting for the day that the fatigue is gone, but it just seems like I will never feel the way I once did. Maybe I just need to come to terms with that, huh? Everyone keeps reminding me that it's normal to feel this way and that my body has been through so much - and I know all of that - it's just frustrating at times. Dr. F says that for every round of chemo you have, you can expect 1-2 months of fatigue....so, 15 rounds of chemo x 2 months of fatigue/round = 30 months! 2 1/2 years of lingering fatigue - sheesh! I know things could be worse and I don't mean to complain, there are just times where feeling this way starts to bum me out. It has been very hard to come to the realization that I just can't do things like I could before. It has hard to realize that putting in just a 6 hour work day can leave me feeling totally drained. It makes me wonder, if we were somehow able to have children one day - would I truly be able to care for them the way a good parent should? It breaks my heart a little bit to think the answer to that question might be "no". When the fatigue really sets in, he seems to bring along it's good friend "Ms. Extra Emotional". I am just feeling a little bit more emotional and anxious than normal, but I am sure that also has something to do with the stress of the holidays and the fact that my scans are coming up next week. It seems like I am feeling more nervous about my scans this time, but I am sure I have felt like this before every other round of scans too. I feel a little scared that if they don't come out good, I will blame myself and beat myself up for it. I have felt so tired lately that I haven't been working out and I haven't been cooking and juicing as often as I usually do. I have still been eating pretty healthy, but we have definitely been indulging in some treats over here. I am well versed on how diet and exercise can affect my disease, and although I don't obsess over it, I have been beating myself up about it lately. I don't want to put blame on myself if my disease does end up progressing, but right now, I am worried I might feel that way. There seems to be some misconceptions out there about what life is like once you are diagnosed with cancer - and I admit, before I was in this position, I was guilty of believing many of them. Like you have maybe a rough year or two and then your treatment is over and life is just exactly how it was before. Story over. Happily ever after. Period. Well, even though I have been blessed with good scans and haven't required changes in my treatment plan, life just isn't ever the same. There are always hurdles (big and small) that no one can prepare you for. I am guilty of thinking my friend, Meredith (who also lives with cancer) must have always been doing so great because "she looks wonderful in her pictures on Facebook". Ugh. How many times do we hear, "but you look so great" even though we might not really feel that way. Yes, I am thankful that I don't look exhausted or look like I have a throbbing back ache but that doesn't mean that those things aren't happening. We just don't post pictures on the days were we might look and feel pretty rough. I guess that's why this transition has been so difficult for me. Although I knew this wasn't going to be one battle, but rather a very long and continuous war - I must have still thought that once the initial blast of chemo/surgery/radiation was over, that I would feel perfect again. I didn't expect to battle this much fatigue for so long. I thought I would be able to work more by now. I thought I would be able to clean my house, run errands, and cook dinner without my back throbbing by the end of the day. I thought I could go back to getting 7 hours of sleep and that I would wake up feeling rested - rather than experiencing burning eyes, body aches and exhaustion from the moment my alarm goes off. I am hard on myself. I admit it. But that's just who I am. I have always held myself to high standards and have been able to accomplish anything I want - and this is a tough pill to swallow to not have any control over how this fatigue continues to plague me. Does it completely limit me and diminish my quality of life - no, definitely not. I continue to be busy and fill up my social calendar like crazy because I refuse to just lay down and hibernate. But, it's frustrating nonetheless. I know I have said this many times, but I am truly BEYOND thankful for Mike. The bottom line is that I couldn't do this without him. When my back hurts, he massages it. When I am exhausted, he grocery shops, cleans the house, does the laundry, cooks dinner. When I am beating myself up emotionally, he reminds me to be gentle with my broken heart and spirit. He is everything to me. I also want to give a little extra thanks to a few of my amazing friends. You know who you are -- the ones that shoot me a quick text to see how things are going or to say they are praying for me, the ones that make the effort to make plans so we can spend time together, the ones that let me talk their ears off on the phone or when we get together - even if it's about sad things like this damn disease. I truly feel so blessed to have such amazing, inspiring, and thoughtful friends in my life. Please keep my family and I in your prayers this next week as I head in for my scans on Wednesday morning. It will no doubt be a bit stressful, but I pray that we are learning to navigate these waters with a little less anxiety and fear than we have in the past. I won't get my results until January 3rd. I could have tried to get them earlier before Dr. F goes on vacation, but I wanted to enjoy the holidays without the fear of bad news. So, please pray that we are too overcome with the holiday spirit and joy of being surrounded by family and friends to worry about these results. Thank you for your continued love and support. xoxo, Meghan Addendum 12/14/12 - After going back and reading this post, I just want to add that I do feel very good most of the time. And, I don't mean to complain. It just so happens that I usually feel the urge to blog when I am a little bit emotional. It always helps to release my feelings and emotions this way but I hate to sound like I am complaining so much. I am grateful that I feel as good as I do and that I have a great quality of life - despite the annoyance of the fatigue. Thank you for understanding and bearing with me as I try to relay the realities of what my life is really like, while also expressing my gratitude for the many blessings that I know I have. And because a post is always better with pictures....a quick glimpse into my recent happenings over the last couple of weeks, courtesy of my lovely iPhone.... |
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