Waves

It’s after 9pm on Friday and I’m in bed crying. It just kind of slowly hit me… like dark clouds moving over Lake Michigan… bringing rain. Though, in my case, it’s tears. I had just been laying in bed trying to fall asleep. I worked a lot more hours than usual this week. I am tired. It’s been 48 hours of sad news. Maybe the tears were for those in Surfside, Florida. I can only imagine what the last two days have been like for the first responders… community… those who have lost or don’t know if their loved one is alive or dead… those who have lost their homes. 

It could also just be the cancer coaster. Like waves rolling onto the beach in Surfside sometimes the ripple turns into a current that crashes into a wave of emotion. I just laid in bed crying… hugging my stuffed dog. Maybe the tears were for a past life I mourn. Maybe the tears were for a future that will likely be shortened. I honestly don’t know.

I had been watching (in bed) Carrie Hope Fletcher sing “Far Too Late” from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s new musical Cinderella. I found Carrie after stumbling across her YouTube channel nine years ago. She was singing a song she wrote called, “Why can’t I be a Disney princess?” Fast forward nine years and she’s a lead in a new West End musical. The song, “Far Too Late,” is stunning and maybe the lyrics resonate with me…

“Far too late to sing a love song.”

“You’re in someone else’s arms.”

“Far too late for second-guessing.”

“My chance is gone”

Yes, I know she’s singing about a prince. LOL It’s just such a beautifully written song. 

I know it’s not too late for me and that I have chances. Every day I wake up is a chance. A chance to sing a love song. A chance to second guess. A chance to live. A chance to love. A chance to cry. 

Sometimes your body just needs that emotional release. I didn’t cry long. I’m not one to sit and sob. However, sometimes you have to remember the journey you’re on and just keep moving forward and not look back. Like waves in Lake Michigan… like the waves off the coast of Surfside, Florida… they hit hard. They can catch you by surprise and can knock you down. You just have to keep going. I just have to keep going. I will.

1 Year Cancerversary

What a journey it’s been. This week, last year, I was in New York getting a biopsy and packing my apartment. This year, I’m in Chicago, thriving with Stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer. It’s been a crazy year full of ups and downs, hospital stays, lots of love and lots of support.

I just wanted to update you as I hit my one year cancerversary. As you know, I’m on my third kind of chemo. Guess what? I finally have some good news to share! Scans show treatment is working! The brain radiation is working. Many of my lesions have shrunk and others remain the same. The new chemo is working on the lesions in the rest of my body too! The bad news… the cancer did spread to some of my bones. I know. Annoying. Right? (insert face in palm here) The team and I discussed how we’ll handle that. Overall great news! A victory. I’ve stolen a base! 

I’m hoping these results continue so I can try to return to some sort of new “normal.” Seeing people out and about with no masks on… restaurants full again… not much social distancing… has my anxiety a bit high. I’m still masking up and primarily avoiding the public. However, I am pushing myself to be more active. I’ve lost 60 pounds on this chemo cocktail so fatigue and energy levels are not the best. Daily short walks by the lake and stretching are becoming routine and will hopefully put some pep in my step. I even got out on the deck for the first time since I moved here! 

It’s not just myself trying to navigate and figure out this new normal. We all are. I hope you take a moment to pat yourselves on the back. It’s been a journey. We’ve all made it. Those who have not weigh on my mind. We must not forget the lives lost. Their heavenly light illuminate the days ahead. Coronavirus, cancer, illnesses. These all bring us together and remind us that life is fragile but life is living. We are all blessed to awaken out of our cocoons and fly once again.

I will continue to hit the balls that come my way. Some may be curve balls… some may be home runs… others could be strikes. What matters is that Team Cancer Crushers keeps trying and keeps moving forward. That YOU keep moving forward. The stadium remains full of hope and encouragement. I hear your cheers. For that… I thank you. Let’s keep playing ball.