Just Breathe

As I walk into my home this afternoon, after being at the dermatologist office for a full body scan and 3 more biopsies, I decided I would treat myself to some mindless television. So, I plopped on the couch and turned on the TV to catch up on my DVR. About half way into my show I realized that I had spaced and heard nothing. My thoughts weren't on the mindless show that I was treating myself to, instead my mind was thinking about the three chunks of skin taken off my body.  My mind likes to race to this place I like to call "mela-la-la land" (melanoma land).  Why is it that your mind always thinks of the most horrible things that can happen? Is it because it is whats to come? Or....is it just allowing you to see how terrible it could be? I'm not sure, but I hate visiting "mela-la-la land".

Today, as I begin the phone call countdown of my 9th, 10th, and 11th biopsies, I remind myself to step back, relax, and just breathe. 

Sharing this pic from one of my favorite blogs Respect the Rays.

Act like a KiD AgAin!

It is amazing how much you life can change in an instant. We have all been there. Whether it was graduating, getting married, having a child, or hearing an unwanted diagnosis-we have all had that moment of "what next?"

I have had several of those "what next", "why me" moments in my life. You can either choose to learn from them or have them drown you, slowly. I choose to learn from my moments. My first moment brought me a life-long gift. It was a gift that I had wanted and wished for since I was probably was eight-to be a mother. After years of many ups and downs, she finally graced our life in the most amazing way. I am so thankful for her. If I didn't have her, I'm not sure I would be where I am today.

Once I got my diagnosis, I found myself depressed, wondering about my life, and wallowing for days. The only reason I would get out of bed, was her. She needed me. She was my glimmer of light in my darkest hours. She reminded me why I needed to continue living my life and fight. She was my purpose. She gave me purpose. She reminded me what life is supposed to be like- laughter, love, and many adventures!

I recently came across this article: 5 Ways Acting Like a Kid Can Improve Your Mental Health. I found it to be so true. Since my diagnosis, I have found myself enjoying life to the fullest. I play like a kid again. We play some of the craziest things-like chasing crocodiles in our front room or scary monster. She makes me feel like I am five and I love it. Who doesn't want to be five again?

So, if you have been through one of those moments where you question "what's next" or "why me" or just clearly need a break from your daily routine, give yourself an hour, a day, a week and play like a kid again. Your heart will thank you for it. :)

i have fallen, but i will get back up.

It's been two months since my wide excision. Not a day goes by that I do not think about my cancer. I understand that it was removed, but it is going to be a lifelong war. A war with my mind....Will it recur? Are the rest of my moles alright? Are the ones Dr. told me to watch and wait going to haunt me in my sleep? Can I enjoy the sun at all? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

My family and I recently went on a well-needed vacation to the happiest place on earth, Walt Disney World. A few nights before we were to depart, fear overtook me. I began to panic about many things. One being, the weather and the clothing I was going to wear.  Another panic-How am I going to stay out of the sun in Florida? For the last few years, my hubby and I would travel there every spring and literally lay on the beach ALL. Day. LONG. We would bask in the warm, hot sun. It felt so good on our cold, Midwest bodies. Now, going to Florida almost depresses me. I can't enjoy the sun like I used too. Now, it requires gallons of sunblock, a few pairs of sunglasses, hats, and  SPF clothing.

Despite all of the new adjustments to the warm, sunny destination-WDW was seriously amazing. It took me about 30 minutes to slather on my sunscreen every morning. Then again, two hours later. (Repeat 7 more times.) It wasn't THAT bad. But, it definitely was different.

Skin Cancer has made me fall, but I am slowly starting to get back up and face my fears one day at a time.

Waiting...

As I waited patiently for my phone to ring with my pathology reports, I decided to read. I'm not much of a reader. I was a teacher, so I read children books or educational books and that was it.

The day after I was diagnosed with Malignant Melanoma, I came across a website called Pale Girl Speaks. It was about a Hollywood actress' journey with Melanoma. She wrote a book about her experience. I ordered it and with my fantastic prime shipping with Amazon, I had it the next day. I read it in one day. I shocked myself reading it so fast, but I just couldn't put it down. I wanted to be informed. I also wanted to feel that I was apart of this cool new club-you know the Cancer Hating Club. I wanted to feel as if I am not alone.


A week has gone by now since my last biopsy and I was starting to worry. So, I called the office myself. The receptionist was kind enough to remind me that "as soon as they get the results, they will call you". Yep, I knew that, but it was Friday and I really didn't want to WAIT two more days...

I hung up the phone and tried to distract myself by shopping online. Which, is a problem for me, especially Amazon. I just love that I can have something here, at my doorstep, in two days or less. It impresses me. Really. How do they get it here so fast?

While shopping for SPF/UPF clothing (yes, they make clothes that protect you from the sun), my phone rang. I jumped out of my chair and ran to the phone. I saw my doctor's number on the caller I.D. My heart immediately started beating out of my chest.

Through conversation, I learned that my mole was Atypical Pre-Cancerous. The nurse was nice to tell me that it was common with melanoma patients and that her husband had lots of them.

Which leads me to something that I've been meaning to share. Something that I want you to think about....

When you have Cancer, many people want to tell you THEIR story. Stories about their Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad, sister, neighbor, Uncle Lou, Aunt Marsha, their mom's neighbors-son's kid...get the picture? Everyone has a story about cancer, unfortunately. But what people with cancer don't tell you is, that we, respectfully, don't want to hear them. We really don't want to hear about how Uncle Lou died from Melanoma after only battling it for six months or that your mom's neighbors son's kid had cancer and how he fought a hard, excruciating battle from the hospital bed and lost after 8 years. I know that people really mean well, but when you are going through this with no idea of how this is going to turn out, it's so hard to hear those stories. It's very hard. Cancer patients tend to focus on the ugly. We like to hear about how someone with the same battle wins. How they were courageous and won-slapping that cancer bitch in the face (as one of my best friends would say).

 Hearing those stories of innocent people, who were taken by this awful, heartless disease, is too sad for cancer patients. It gives us less hope. We need hope. We need faith. We need everyone's support.

So, next time someone has to share unfortunate news-just hug...just hug and give a little pat. :) That embrace speaks to us too.

Everyone has a battle to fight.

I was about to embark on my very first mole check.I was nervous and had no idea what to expect. It was much different than the first visit. A little bit more relaxed and a lot less painful-emotionally and physically. She went over my body- looking at every mole. Out of the 50+ moles that I have, she found only one that had the characteristics of Melanoma. At that point, I was relieved. She got out her tools and she preceded to do what is called a punch biopsy. She stitched me up and we chatted for about 45 minutes.  I was well researched and full of questions. I left there with a little bit of relief and a lot of anxiety. I hate all the waiting that is involved. A week is about 6 days too long.

On my way home, I was jamming. We have this FANTASTIC radio station that plays 90's music and I love listening to it! As I was pulling out of the parking lot, Ice Ice Baby came on the radio. Yes-I know...You LOVE it too. ;)  Being a mother of a four year old, I do not often "jam" in the car unless it is "Call Me Maybe". (PUKE!) So, I happily blasted that tune and began my drive home-singing loudly. I did not think once about what had just happened in the office. I didn't think about the biopsy that just took place. I didn't think about the conversation that was had. I was living in THAT moment. Reminiscing about how I had that song on a cassette tape and that was the only tape I had in my car. I would play that song over and OVER again. As I stopped at a stop light-I was still singing loudly-radio was still blaring-I just so happen to glance over and there, sat this lady in her little red BMW, GLARING at me. I realized that she could probably hear my loud music (or could hear me sing-which if you know me, you know that I am a fabulous singer) and she was probably super annoyed, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to let her take that moment away from me just because she didn't like my music or my singing. :) I earned that moment. I just spent the last hour in the Dermatologist office talking about my cancer. And at this very moment, I was not allowing myself to think about cancer, instead I was going to enjoy this moment with Vanilla Ice.

There are many times when I'm driving, at the grocery store, or any place really, where I lose my patience with people. Never did I think about what they were going through. It wasn't until that moment, in my car, did I realize that we as humans are so quick to judge. Nobody has it easy, everyone has issues. You never know what people are going through. So don't be quick to judge because everyone has a battle to fight. Some are just different than yours and we all handle it differently. At this moment in time, I chose to handle it by blaring Ice Ice Baby.

So, the next time someone pulls up next to you and is blaring their music, just look over and smile. It might just be me, celebrating my life, celebrating the five minutes alone, or enjoying a great song that allows me to not think about my cancer for 3 minutes and 46 seconds. ;)

And just in case you want to reminisce with me-here is Ice Ice Baby's Video.

~A

Thank you.

After I first received my diagnosis, I had to let it sink in. I told my husband and my mom. That was it. I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone else. I didn't want to see the sadness in their eyes when I told them. It breaks my heart to see others in pain, especially the ones I hold so close to my heart.

I don't want it to define me. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I want them to understand what I'm going through and keep me going. Fight with me. Be there for me. But, don't feel sorry for me.

After a few days, I began texting my closets friends because I had to talk about it, but couldn't. I couldn't look at them and tell them without crying. I'm not a crier, but this past month has proven me wrong. So, texting it was. I hated reading their responses, not that they weren't the most caring responses in the world. It was the fact that I had to share this horrible news. I was about to rock their world with my horrible news.

Within 12 hours, it happened. Their care, love, and support was hitting my doorstep. I felt so loved. My friends are truly the best. Hands down. The best. They made dinners and desserts for me. They had magazines for me. They had flowers for me. They had movies for me to watch and crafts to build with my daughter. Most importantly, they cared. My husband was thrilled. He didn't make dinner for two weeks! I was thrilled too because he only knows how to cook 2 things. :)

This post is for my friends and family. I truly can't thank all of you enough. I adore each and every one of you.

Thank you.

Breast Cancer too?

Before all this happened, I had gone to the "woman" doctor for my yearly check up. During my exam, she found a lump. I immediately thought, "oh, crap." Breast cancer does run in my family and I have always feared of that diagnoses. My doctor said to keep an eye on it. At that time, I was completely fine with that answer.

Fast Forward--------

After my diagnosis with Malignant Melanoma, I started searching about MM trying to find as much information as I could find. I came across this article (here) about the connection of Breast Cancer AND Melanoma. I began to panic. All I kept thinking was about my lump in my right breast. What happens if my Melanoma has spread or if I DO have breast cancer. After many CRAZY thoughts, I called my "woman" doctor and explained to the nurse what has happened in the last month. She probably thought I was crazy, but I if you were just told that you have Skin Cancer and your doctor found a lump in your breast, you'd probably sound the same way-SCARED out of your mind.  After being on hold-for what seemed like FOREVER-she returned to the phone and had a slightly different tone, which I cued into right away. This made me panic a little bit more. She wanted me to come in as soon as I could get there. Hung up the phone and was there in 10 minutes. I think I surprised her. :)

Waiting in the doctors office is probably one of the hardest things. Your mind travels to horrible places that you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. As I walked to the exam room, I felt my eyes fill up with tears. I tried really hard to control it, but it just didn't happen. I was an emotional mess. A week ago, I had found out that I had Cancer and today, I was possibly finding out that I had another one. The realization that I could possibly have two separate types of cancer was upon me.

The room was stale, cold, and extremely quiet. When she walked in we chatted about my excision of my Melanoma. She then began the quick exam. As she sat down in her chair and wheeled herself away from me, I noticed the look on her face. It was a concerned, worrisome face. I could feel my nerves hit the pit of my stomach.

She said, "Amanda, I am going to send you for a Mammogram and an ultrasound. I need you to get these done as soon as possible."

Her urgency scared me.

I came home, my husband opened the house door and said, "WELL?" I hunched over, placed my hands over my face and began to cry. Again.

My appointment wasn't for 4 days. Yep, 4 days of worrying, wallowing, and stressing. I tried to keep my mind off it, I really did. I actually don't think I left my couch. I caught up on The Real Housewives and Jersey Shore. Which, makes me laugh now. Thinking about Mike's famous-GTL. T=Tanning. Hmmm. I began to wonder if they new about Malignant Melanoma. Every person I have told, which isn't very many people, they have either told me that they have never heard of it or my favorite response, "It's just skin cancer. They can remove and it will be over. You will be o.k. once they get it out." - That is not the case. It will be with me forever. It will be a constant worry in the back of my mind. Every mole on my body will be looked at twice, three, four times daily wondering if that one too has Melanoma. It is never-ending. Many people have died from this. It IS CANCER. 

Finally, Monday morning came. My appointment was at the butt-crack of dawn and those of you that personally know me, know that I am NOT a morning person. My sister drove me. We didn't talk much in the car. As we walked in to what looked like a spa-damn, did I wish I was at the spa-I could feel my throat begin to close and my tears, yet again, filling my eyes. I was taken back to the "spa" locker room. I sat in my gown feeling quite helpless at that point. Just then, a lady walked out of a room and said, "Are you Amanda?" -Yep, that would be me. "Gosh, you are so young." -Yep, that's what I say. She grabbed my hand and told me that everything was going to be alright. At that moment, it was if she knew that I was going to be just fine. She sounded SO sincere and kind. I believed her. A sense of calm overcame my body and started telling her my story. Her facial expressions said it all. She felt sorry for me...

After my mammogram and ultrasound, the radiologists came into the room. She sat right next to me. I thought that was strange. I thought that meant it was going to be bad news. She said, "Amanda, you are free of Breast Cancer. I don't see a thing." As she was telling me, I saw her eyes well up with tears. She put her arm around me and hugged me. She must be a mom or a very caring Doctor. I needed just that. So there I was, in my awesome "spa" gown, with the radiologist, the ultrasound tech, and the mammogram tech, crying with these ladies. Yes, I said with. They were crying too, but this time it was tears of happiness.

~A