Peachy Comeback

 How I Found It A good friend recently asked me if I had read Jessica Simpson’s memoir. I hadn’t. Mostly because I didn’t know about it. Lately, I’m not up to date on the good reads. My excuse? “I’m too busy getting kicked in the pants by all that is this life.” Weak excuse. Must work on that. Well, “Read it,” she said. See, we grew up in the 2000’s pop culture. Jessica Simpson represented everything a girl wants: mind boggling beauty, a dream boat boyfriend, and her own castle. At least, that covers the basics.  Preparing for a much overdue vacation, I put it at the top of my reading list. Historically, I am a self help book reader, however, I’m fully aware that vacation mode doesn’t exactly scream, “10 Steps To Be A Better You.” This book was the perfect fit. Mission accomplished. Words to describe it:  Fascinating, Honest, Funny What I Liked The Most I appreciate how she shares her struggles with self destructing habits. All of us have them, and we all have an appetite...

"Don't fear your weakness....be afraid of those moments when you think you're independently strong." The caption of my morning devotional from Paul David Tripp, New Morning Mercies. Personal confession, I absolutely loath, despise, hate, cringe, die on the inside, when asked a question I don't have an answer to. It makes me feel weak and incompetent. Please don't roll your eyes. This is a confession and a judgment free zone. You feel? The author goes on to list all the things that can make us feel weak, and I identified with almost everything on the list. But oddly enough, I found comfort in the fact that everyone has something, that one thing, that fleshes our own personal vulnerability or weakness.  Feeling or actually being weak isn't a problem. That's normal for everyone. It's more about being self aware and proactively processing the felling or situation. Three take aways... and yes, they are free today. I'm not the only one. Could say mor...

 Today, I went for my 6th Kadcyla infusion. 8 to go. After getting my port flushed and hooked up, the nurse took me to a room where I would see my oncologist before going in for the infusion.  (By they way, I hope there is some wonderful soul out there finding a way to flavor whatever they use to flush a port. I think it’s a saline rinse? I mean, gag! Absolutely terrible. My secret? Hold my breath and look away. The nurse invariably asks, “Sweetie, are you okay?” I shake my head silently, usually give a thumbs up, because after all, I’m holding my breath and not talking. Then, once I’m convinced the taste is gone or turning blue, which ever comes first, I breathe again. That’s my working method until they come up with a chardonnay flavored rinse!) My oncologist came in and sat down on a nearby swivel stool. We started chatting about how I’m tolerating the treatment. Thankfully, it’s going oaky so far. He said something to the effect of, “so, you think we can do this?” “Absolut...

Tomorrow I report for breast cancer chemo treatment #6. Lord willing, it will be the last.  As I lay here in bed trying to fall sleep, clearly not a task I’m succeeding in at that moment, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. I remember the first visit with my oncologist where he laid out my treatment plan. To start, “you’ll be having 6 rounds of chemo every 3 weeks.” I’m not great at math, but it didn’t take me long to get to 18. It sounded like an E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y. I was terrified.  Now, somehow, here I am. On the other side of 18 weeks. Did I really make it to the other side?  Nothing about the past 18 weeks has been fun or easy. It also hasn’t been as bad as my imagination told me it could be. Grace, good medicine, a fabulous oncologist, and support team I feel undeserving of have escorted me on this journey. They get the credit for getting me to the other side.  Grace has bolstered me when darkness has clouded my mind.  Good medicine, oh man, it’s kept from making...

Greetings from the infusion room. I hope you had a Christmas filled with hope.  I’m settled in for chemo infusion 3 of 6. Happy halfway day to me.  Thanks to COVID, you don’t get to bring a friend anymore. You get to come here solo, visit with your fellow infusion mates, nurses, and ponder New Years resolutions.  Are we doing those this year? On one hand, New Years Resolutions feel like a great way to set yourself up for failure. But on the other hand, reflecting back on your year, and committing to doing a few things better sort of puts some wind behind your sails. So, to answer my own question, yes, I am definitely putting a few ideas together for what I want to do well in 2021.  My plan for daily living in 2021 is inspired by something I’ve been doing since the start of chemo: focusing on and doing the essentials that set me up to win. Sound simple? It is. But, friend, it’s not easy. Culture, work, friends, family, your children’s coaches, room moms, Instagram, an...

 Okay, the hair releasing didn’t last long. I couldn’t take it. I was sitting at work, went for a head scratch, and came away with fist full of hair. Nope. We’re done here. It wasn’t something I wanted to experience any longer than necessary.  The salon I ordered my wig from wasn’t open, so I was left hunting around town for some kind soul to shave my head. Enter Tammy. She cuts Clark’s hair, and she answered my desperate text for help.  My sister, Stacey, bravely volunteered to go with me. Clark took a pass, and I’m so glad he did. It wasn’t something I really wanted him to experience. Not that he couldn’t have handled it. He can handle anything. But it just wasn’t something I “needed” him there for.  On the way to salon, Stacey pondered, “I hope we are in a sort of private area. Like, not out in the open where everyone can see your business.” My response, “Good thought. I hope so.”  We park, walk in, greet Tammy, and walk the short two steps to chair number 1....

 Today is chemo day 13. Please know that’s not how I wake up thinking about each day. But for the purposes of story telling, it helps provide context.  My hair has started to release. There was no drama, no fancy sad music, or fall apart. Just a simple finger run through that came away with way more strands than necessary. I repeated the process just to check. Yep. Definitely coming out. On Tuesday, it will all be getting “released” with a buzzer.  It’s a strange feeling, but I don’t think it is a rare feeling. Any experience that involves having to watch or feel your body break down is unpleasant. Objectively, experiencing chemo hair loss is difficult. And I think you should allow yourself to experience the emotions that come with it, however, you can’t stay there for long. You can’t dwell there. At least, I can’t. That road gets long and dark very quickly.  Enter, perspective. Still reading? Great. I knew we would be friends. This is the thing: I have heard my enti...