The Race for the Cure

Where to begin.  Hmmm.  As most of you know, I'm not often at a loss for words.  Actually, it's almost never. 

I'll try  to sum up what this day meant for me and try not to get too emotional about it.  The day before the "race"--and by race I mean non-competitive walk--we spent as a family.  A few quick errands and a nap for Camden and then it was on to see Leah and her family.  We planned to spend the night at the Water Park of America hotel, so we packed up and headed down to Bloomington.  Met at the front desk by four very wet boys we got checked in and headed up to our room.  Upgrade by Leah's hotel points we stayed in a grand suite.  Bunk beds, there were bunk beds in our room!  A beautiful suite, but no time to look around we had a water park to get to. 

Four hours later after tackling the family tube slide, lazy river, kid area, and the hot tub we were all spent.  The boys were all rubbing their eyes and Camden was signing eat continuously.  Good thing there was a restaurant in the hotel. 

After a great night's sleep in a bed I never wanted to leave, we got ready and packed and went for breakfast.  We met up with Leah and the boys and had the breakfast buffet before heading over to the Mall of America.  I was adorned in my pink shirt and scarf and walking shoes.  I was still feeling great from treatment.  I was feeling blessed.  A team of over 20 people were walking in my honor.  Humbled and blessed.
 

 

 

 

My bestie Melissa had organized the team of a lot of family and a lot of Sam's co workers and many of our friends.  Watching the group gather brought tears to my sun glassed covered eyes.  The excitement for saving breasts was overwhelming!!

As 9:00am closed in we made our way to the start line adorned with the American flag.  I get goosebumps every. single. time. I hear the national anthem. 

 

The sea of people all walking for one cause: to eventually eradicate breast cancer.  It was so invigorating to be in the same place all walking for the same thing.  The white shirts representing those who are supporting and the pink shirts representing those fighting and those who have conquered the disease.  I didn't want to hide my pink behind my coat.  I wanted all to see that this is a young women's disease too and we fight hard and nasty.

 

Making our way to the starting line was showing us adults how chaotic the walk would be.  6 kids in total and one wagon.  You can tell Leah is used to leading her small herd through crowds.  I think the rest of us were more nervous than she, but good thing Melissa's boy friend wore a bright yellow Livestrong sweatshirt.  He was a great landmark!! 

 

Julie Nelson and Jared Sebesta from the local Kare 11 News counted down the walk.  3-2-1 and we were walking.  Nearly 50,000 people in total for the day participating in the fight against breast cancer.  Each and everyone of them affected by the disease in some manner. 

 

 

We saw a lot of back with pinks placards in celebration and in memory.  Seeing men and women my age who were walking in memory of their moms or sisters brought me to tears.  Some times I feel if I could just fight harder to take away the fight for others.  I didn't seem to find the table with these placards, but if I could make one now I would walk in celebration of the following women:

Jessica--my breast cancer angel

Vanessa (http://thelivesincerelyproject.com/)

My grandma Mary--83 years old and doing amazing

My friend Kim's mom--newly diagnosed

All women diagnosed under 30

And . . . ME 

 

The walk got started and we passed under the START banner.  Just passed the banner was a set of overpasses.  The voices would echo so the participants were yelling in celebration.  After I had promised myself I wouldn't cry, the tears began flowing.  I felt like each of those people were cheering for me and my fight.  They were cheering because among all the sadness and dispare that breast cancer brings there is everlasting hope.  Hope that one day, through research and support, there will be no more breast cancer.  That another mother at age 28 with a 15 month old son and a 3 year old marriage will not have to hear those ugly words.   That there will be no missing work because of major surgery and chemo therapy.  That there will be lot of natural breasts and moms who are able to breastfeed their children.  That no one will have to live the nightmare my family has lived.  But, we will conquer this.  And that moment, when so many people were yelling, I felt hope and promise that my dream will come true. 

 

 

We continued to march on.  The walk winded through a neighborhood of supporters.  The kids were having a blast.  Trading turns in the wagon to keep warm and rest their little legs.  Camden felt the need to walk himself.  His little body got going faster than his legs and he fell and hit his head.  He's fine, just a ginormous bruise and a little road rash that looks like someone took a bite out of his head. 

 

He decided he needed a nap during the race.  This was the only way, he would not lay down.  He's my sweet boy that will never know a life without fighting breast cancer.  Of course as a mother, I would take this all away in a heart beat.  But, in some ways I'm proud; it shows him how to be compassionate and loving and I feel like we are rearing a fighting spirit.  Not that he needed more of it--we are feisty Scandinavians by blood.   

 

 

 

 

We approached the near 2 mile mark as we rounded a corner.  This corner was deemed "hug a survivor" corner.  My team rushed over to hug me.  These are only some of the people that I know are equally fighting my fight with me.  My hug back was hugging them because they are a survivor, too. 

 

 

As we neared the finish line and the mall the excitement began to pick up again.  KS95 was announcing teams and survivors as they crossed the finish line.  Melissa and I took this as an ample opportunity to have a photo op.  My personal goal is to run the race next year--again, don't tell my boss.  He will really think that I've lost it--so Melissa and I took a picture of me "running" across the finish line. I don't know what happened to this picture or else I would share.  As we finished up our photo op the announcer grabbed Melisa and asked my name.  All of a sudden I heard over the speakers "Entering Survivor Nicole!!"  So awesome to hear my name and hear people cheer. 

 

After the walk the survivors were to go inside the rotunda of the mall for the survivor ceremony.  I think this is the part I was most nervous for.  I'm young, I look young and therefore I look like I don't belong.  Most of these women are at least 50 and older.  As we entered the rotunda my nerves settled.  I was following an elderly woman who placard on her back said she was celebrating 37 years cancer free.  What hope and inspiration.  She will never know what she gave me by simply walking in front of me. 

 

The camaraderie among these women is insurmountable.  I was looking for a seat and the women kindly ushered me down the row.  I was about four rows back, front and center in the sea of pink shirts. 

 

Hosted by Kare 11's Rena and Blake, the ceremony began with Native American drumming and shall dancing and jungle dress dancing.  As they were dancing the woman made friends and embraced.  We all knew.  Whether stage 0 or stage 4.  We all knew.  

 

 

 

 

 

There was an inspiring speech by a 26 year old male breast cancer survivor.  His shirt said "Rare but There".  So true my friend.  What an inspiration of hope.  He said we should shout from the roof tops like Dr. Seuss's Horton--"We Are Here!".  Yes.  I am here and I will shout loudly until we find a cure. 

 

 

There was music and dancing, hugging and crying.  We all stood for the years we've been survivors.  I stood for the newly diagnosed.  Adorned with my matching pink scarf, I began to cry.  The 10 year survivor to my left stood to embrace me.  Then we laughed because my nose was running so bad because I don't have nose hairs.  Another relation to the woman who had been through chemo.  When I stood I locked eyes with another young women.  Clearly, she was my age.  Another in the under-researched group of diagnosed under 30.  The rotunda was lined with people celebrating with the survivors and cheering us on. 

 

 

The ceremony ended with a bang.  I cried tears of hope, tears of inspiration, tears of fear of the unknown, tears for my family, tears for all of those affected.  But at the end of the day I realized I was crying tears of happiness.  There haven't been many of those in the last few months, but I was so happy.  I was happy to be surrounded by the love of my husband and son and all those walking in my honor, I was happy to be part of a community that all hate breast cancer as much as I do, and I was happy to just be a part of my first Race for the Cure. 

 

 

Overall, and to end this very long post, Happy Mother's Day and remember to check your boobs!

 

 

 



 

 

 

Round 2 Cycle 1-Taxol and Leah Peah

Everyone has been telling me how Taxol would be easier.  My only response; I'll believe it when I see it.  After all I had been through with the AC I was just hoping to feel better so I could continue working and not just feel like I was wasting away on the couch while watching 4 hours of Bones every day. 

Sam and I stopped for our traditional breakfast at Brueggers that morning.  We decided to dine in this time because we had the time.  While we were sitting there minding our own business, a random lady approached the table. 

Random lady: Pardon me, Keep fighting the awesome fight.  You're amazing.  (all while handing me something)

I looked down to a gift card with the same message.  I don't know who you are lady or how cancer has impacted your life, but thank you.  Thank you so much.  It is people like you that remind me there is good in this world and there is support even when you aren't looking. 

Sam and I arrived to chemo on our usual Friday morning.  It was the last day of nurse's appreciation week, so I brought gifts for my 3 nurses at the office.  We saw the NP this time and talked about how the last AC went and what to expect with Taxol.  I had been feeling so great.  I had gone back to work and I really wasn't looking forward to endless days and nights of not feeling well. 

(poem found on pinterest)

We drew labs from my port and had my exam.  The findings from the labs showed that I am severely anemic and am close to needing a blood transfusion.  I'm hoping since I feel better I can just eat an iron rich diet and avoid that; also, they say it should improve with the Taxol.  This could be why I'm so exhausted all of the time. 

After the simple exam and talking with my research nurse, Sam and I were ushered back to the infusion room.  I learned my usual chemo nurse Caitlyn was no longer working, her little baby girl was trying to come early so she is now at home on bed rest.  I was so bummed.  Caitlyn has been with me through me entire chemo journey thus far and I felt like she was my security blanket.  She was my comfort zone. 

Her friend and also expecting, Hali, would be my nurse today.  Kind and quiet in demeanor I knew I was in good hands. We went over all of the side effects again and I signed my consent.  Benadryl is one of the pre meds for the Taxol, I don't remember the last time I have taken a Benadryl so I had no idea how I would react.  Taxol can create a reaction in a lot of patients so I was armed with a bell in case I became short of breath and panicky--umm that's enough to create panic.  Once the Benadryl started flowing we soon saw how it affected me.  I was out cold.  Sleeping.  I slept through the whole treatment and we didn't need to use the bell. 

No picture this time.  Sorry, I was out within about 5 minutes of the infusion starting.  I woke up just as the Taxol was finishing and Sam and I were on our way. 

I felt good and normal.  This was not normal.  I was so scared of what the side effects would be.  My cousin was coming into town for the Race for the Cure and we were hoping to meet up for dinner.  And . . . . great news!  I felt great, so we could!!

We met up with Leah Peah (yes, we're both 29 and I still affectionately call her this) and her four boys, Austin, Andrew, Alex, and Ashton.  We had a nice quiet dinner and I ate a steak and potatoes.  Clearly I had a craving to knock that anemia to the curb!  Leah had driven for 14 hours and I was tired so we parted ways after a great dinner and a great day. 

Back to Work

After feeling well for a week after my 3rd chemo, I had tossed around the idea of going back to work soon.  It was about time and day time TV was no longer satisfying.  I got a call from work asking if I would like to consider coming back part time to help out another co worker in my position as she trains for another aspect of our job. 

Well, there is no better time than the present. 

I went back to work about a week ago, just doing light duty and staying as long as I could keep my eyes open.  It's been a real challenge trying to multi-task and focus.  I've found that certain things don't come to memory as easily has they did before and it requires a lot more thinking to just do normal tasks.  Darn chemo brain. 

The first day went just fine, other than I got really tired and had to go home for a nap.  But, I have toughed it out and I'm learning lots.  Our clinics have recently transitioned to electronic records, so the job I left is not the same job I am coming back to. 

The days are long, but all in all, I'm really glad to be back to a little bit of normal for my life. 

Chemo #4--I beat the Red Devil

I had been feeling amazing the week before my last cycle of AC chemotherapy.  I wanted to get up in the morning and I wanted to go do things.  I made a trip to work to visit which was so much fun, I had lunch with Sam's grandparents and great aunt and Camden and Judi, I had a visitor (hey, Lisa!), and more visitors (hi Megan and Katie).  The week was good.  I could eat, I could get dressed, I could shower, I could sleep.  It was the most normal that I had felt in a really long time. 

Frankly, that was enough for me not to want to go to chemo.  Not that I ever want to go, but seriously, I felt good.  Let's just let it be.  But no.  I was reminded by many that I need to continue my fight and this was the last one of this kind.  I'm just so tired of being sick and tired. 

I cry a lot--like daily.  I wish every day I could have my smile and positive attitude show through, but it doesn't.  I cry because I feel like a bad mom; I'm so tired, I can't play or make dinner.  We read a lot of books and I bathe him, but aside from that I sit on the couch.  I cry because I feel like my husband deserves more.  There is no one in this world that deserves this "speed bump" only 3 years into their marriage.  I feel like my husband deserves a wife who cooks and cleans and wants to do activities.  I cry because I just didn't want this to be my life. 

Cancer is horrible.  I just want a life where I can make plan without having to wait to see how I feel, or where I don't have to be bald, or where I can shower without becoming exhausted.  I wish for a life where I'm not nauseated or dizzy and that I can eat the foods I love.  Cancer, I hate you. 

I know I have readers out there that are clinging to this blog for support and positive uplifts, but I have to be real.  The Red Devil that is adriamycin and cytoxan, frankly, sucks. 

Feeling great, I woke up the morning of chemo and got ready as usual.  I registered for classes because I WILL be going back to school this fall.  My friend Jill was taking me this time so Sam could save a few days of PTO at work.  We loaded up with out things to do and headed to chemo. 

Nothing great to report.  I still lost more weight, but kept my numbers where I need them to be.  I'm becoming more and more anemic which is typical.  But overall, I'm still healthy and fighting. 

The port has been making things easier, I still don't like it, but it's easier.  After waiting on a lab that took forever to come back my favorite nurse Caitlyn got me hooked up and I was given the red devil and sent on my way. 
 

 

taxol.  I'm thinking about getting her a gift, but I haven't found the perfect chemo graduate gift yet. 

 

I did ask the doctor, from a request from Sam, when we will do follow up scans.  His answer (Dr. T was out, so I saw someone else) was that I won't.  I am cancer free.  Right now everything we are doing is like a flu shot.  We will know if my "flu shot" works when my "flu season" is over, typically 5 years.  I don't feel like a survivor yet, I still consider myself a fighter.  I pray to God that one day my life isn't all about cancer, but rather about family, friends and love. 

 

To leave on a brighter note, I want to extend a thank you to everyone who continues to follow our journey.  I know your prayers are helping and we praise the Lord for the selfless giving we have received.  I promise, I'm working on thank you notes and they will come (better late than never, right?), but please know how grateful we are.  Truly, we could not do this without the support of our family, friends, and church.  You are all amazing.