In Sandra's Shoes

Her mouth was moving and she was speaking calmly and softly to me but I couldn't understand anything my surgeon was saying. Everything seemed to slow down in the few seconds since she had told me the pathology report from my breast biopsy showed I had cancer.
"How could that be?" I asked and almost immediately regretted because I thought I sounded silly. Was she sure this was my report? Other reports had always come back negative. Why was this one positive?
She moved closer and tried to explain more clearly what was in the report. I began to hear but I still didn't believe her. I just sat there in a daze. I knew I should be asking questions but I couldn't put anything together that made sense.
My surgeon pointed out that it was amazing that the cancer had been discovered so early _ stage 0_ at the cellular level. And she recapped how we were able to get to this point.
Yes, I was thinking, but you said I have cancer. It still sounded like a death sentence.
Now what?

My journey to my surgeon's office on Dec. 18 had started in October when my gynecologist felt in a cyst in my breast during my routine yearly exam. I was surprised when she pointed it out because it was one I hadn't felt.
I do self exams every week.
She offered to aspirate it and I agreed. For nearly a decade, I had several cysts a year in each breast that had to be aspirated. The fluid was sent to the lab and had always come back negative.
But this time she couldn't aspirate it and suggested I see my surgeon to have it done in a hospital setting. No problem. I scheduled it. This time the aspiration would be done with an ultra sound and needle.
This doctor was able to do that and located the cyst and withdrew most of the fluid. She couldn't get all of it and said I'd hear from her when the pathology report came back. I left and went to work, giving little thought to it. After all, the other reports had always been negative and this probably would be as well.
A few days later she reached me on the phone at home and pointed out the report showed "atypical cells" and we should just watch it. Do a follow up in a few months.
She called back 30 minutes later and said she had changed her mind. I should follow up with my surgeon and do a biopsy. Really? Are you sure we can't just watch it? I was thinking of all of the projects going on at work and everything else I had to do.
No, she insisted. Okay. I'll get it done today.
It actually took me a few days but I did go in and the surgeon also recommended the biopsy. I had it done just after Thanksgiving and felt it would also show there was nothing. I was wrong.

Good morning.
As I prepare to head to church, I wanted to take time to thank you all for your encouraging words and prayers. And some of you have offered scriptures that from which you draw strength.
My personal favorite is Phillipians 4:13, which reminds us we can do all things through Christ.
And on days when I am hesitant about going to radiation therapy, I think of Isaiah 40:31, which talks about renewing strength.
What other scriptures or readings do some of you turn to when you need inspiration?

I felt like cheering today.
When I walked through the waiting area back to the changing room following my radiation treatment, someone asked me how did it go.
And I said, great. Eleven days to go, I said. Two-thirds done. And they all congratulated me! Everyone there is undergoing radiation treatment for some type of cancer. And it's good to know one of us is getting closer to the end. I remember congratulating another woman when I was just a few days into my treatment. She's done now and I hope she continues to do well.
The woman doing needlepoint on a table runner who sits and waits for her husband nodded and smiled. The two sisters who always come together said that's great. It
It's not painful but it is something to work through. It just zaps your energy. And it's five days a week. I need naps and extra protein.
I am still working but sometimes I need shorter days. How do some of you or people you know deal with the fatigue of radiation therapy?

A few days ago, I asked some of you to share with me and other readers scriptures from which you draw strength or inspiration.

Several of you sent scriptures that get you through day to day or have taken you through difficult times.

I would like to share some of them with you now. If you have others, please click on comments to post them.

Pat Q. wrote to me:In your Scripture readings, may I suggest Isaiah 12:2 ("God indeed is my savior . I am confident and unafraid . . . "). It has gotten me through some tough times.

And Sandy G. suggested John 11:4 and Psalms 91:3.

And from Sam P., I received, "The ones I turn to again and again are Ephesian 6:10 "...Put on the full armor of God..." and, of course, Psalm 23.

And again my favorite is Phillipians 4:13.

Thanks.

Sometimes we think we don't need support to face issues. We know what we have to do and we just go ahead and do it. We may have some anxiety but we work to overcome it.

I knew what I would be facing for the first day of radiation therapy. I had been admitted into a study group that uses a breathing machine to help you hold your breath while the radiation is being administered. Holding your breath lifts the chest area so heart and lungs are protected from the radiation and should give you a longer life without side effects on those organs several decades or more down the road.

I had passed the first test during the CAT scan set-up and run through to administer the radiation. It was tough but I did it. My nose was clipped shut, a tube inserted into my mouth into which I had to breathe and I had to click a button which monitors my breathing through a software program. A coach talked me through each step.

But I found I was so anxious about the nose clip and breathing and paying attention that I could hardly do it on the day before the radiation therapy was to start.

So I turned to Karen, my friend and colleague at work, to ask if she would mind just going with me to sit while I waited my turn. I was a little nervous, I told her. (She knew I was more than a little nervous.)

We left the office well ahead of time and she rode in the cab with me and sat in the waiting area while I changed. We chatted about uor children, work issues, the decor of the hospital waiting area; about everything; about nothing.

And then I was called back. She hugged me and said it would all right.

I nodded, and took a deep breath and walked back to C machine in the treatment area.
The three radiation therapists adjusted me on the table, clipped my nose shut and put in the breathing tube. One radiation therapist said now your treatment begins and they all left the room.

I was alone watching a computer screen and listening to one of the therapists coach me through the breathing. "First normal breath..."

But I knew Karen was waiting. And I said a prayer as I stared the brightly-lit outdoor scene on the ceiling. Soft music was playing. I think it might have been old Supremes songs that day.

I had to hold my breath for several seconds for six times while the radiation was administered.
And then it was over. It only lasted a few minutes. And I had done it _ partly becuase I knew Karen was waiting.

I walked out and there was Karen, smiling. "It was okay, wasn't it?" she asked.

Yes, and it's been okay since then; her waiting on the first day made the difference..

Countdown...9 treatments left.

How have your family and friends been supportive of you?

Is anyone else in any type of study group?

I celebrate today the one-week anniversary of my blogging conversations with all of you.

I have received over a hundred blog postings, personal e-mails, phone calls, personal visits and cards from many of you who have put me in your prayers, offered words of encouragement and shared your stories of how cancer has affected your life.

I am deeply grateful. So many of you are walking with me that I know I never walk alone. I wish I could respond to all of you.

I will continue to tell you my story and will try to share stories from readers as we go along.

My prognosis is excellent. All of the cancer cells were removed during my lumpectomy on Jan. 10 and now I am in the last third of radiation treatment.

Countdown...8 days.

"Every day of treatment and recovery deserves a trophy.

Some for courage,

some for determination,

some for just hanging in there..." From a card sent to me by Tracey H.

The tiredness on Friday was overwhelming.

I was too tired to move Friday morning when the alarm went off. I set it for an hour later. That achy, flu-like feeling without the sniffles was still there when the alarm sounded a second time.

What to do? My weekly hair appointment was just an hour away. I had no choice. I had to cancel. I just couldn't get out of the bed. I hate to cancel hair and nail appointments. They are things I do for myself that help me forget that I'm being treated for breast cancer.

Someone else described the tiredness as being similar to what we feel in that last month of pregnancy when you can't get comfortable and you can't get enough sleep. Just tired all of the time.

It was like that Friday but I made it to my afternoon treatment after eating lunch. Still tired but able to move a little better and smile when volunteer Betty greeted me in the waiting area with deep voice. "How are you doing today? It's one more day, right? " she said.

I had been warned about the cumulative effect of the radiation but I didn't think I could get much more tired than I had been feeling over the last few weeks at the end of the day. The total fatigue surprised me.

My doctor told me again to conserve energy as much as possible, get lots of rest and eat well. I'm trying. The fatigue is more intense toward the end of treatment. And I spent the weekend trying to conserve as much energy as possible, sleeping a lot, attending a church program and out to a movie with my husband.

I think I get the trophy for hanging in.

Countdown...7 days

Today is the final radiation treatment using the breathing machine. I'm excited but also a little nervous. Following the treatment, I'll have the final run through for the radiation boost treatments, which use an attachment to focus more directly on the area of the breast where the turmor had been located.

I'll have five of those treatments and then the radiation treatments will be done.

Countdown...6 days.

Flashback:
After telling me I had breast cancer in her office on Dec. 18, I sat in the examining room and waited while my surgeon's assistants made several appointments for me. I scrounged through my bag, searching for my cell phoone so I could call my husband. I couldn't find it _ I'd left it at the office.

Still in denial, I left the doctor's office and headed back to the office. No one knew but me at this point. And I thought I'd keep it that way until I saw the radiation oncologist the next morning. Surely, she'd tell me that the report was wrong.

Leaving the surgeon's office, I had appointments for blood work, the radiation oncologist, a MRI and a follow-up with the surgeon before the scheduled surgery in January.

My husband was working out of town so I had to call him but I wanted to sound confident. I really wanted to cry. I couldn't tell my daughter, who is a sophomore in college, because the next day was her birthday and she had finals. I couldn't add stress to her life. And I couldn't tell my son yet. He was about to travel for the first time with his girlfriend to her home out of state for the Christmas holidays.

I called my husband that evening and told him. He was shocked as I was when I heard it from the surgeon. And he wanted to know if the report was right. Was I sure? Did we need a second opinion? Okay, I can come home early, he said. Not necessary, I said. I see the radiation oncologist in the morning we'll see what she says. Okay, I'm going online to see what I can find out about all of this, he said.

Don't tell the children yet. We can tell our daughter when she comes home for the semester break and tell our son after that. Okay, he said, reluctantly.

But I almost didn't see the radiation oncologist. When I saw her office was housed in part of the hospital called cancer center, I almost turned around. The C word. That couldn't be right. I wasn't ready to admit I had cancer yet. But I steeled myself and went. After all, it's just a conversation, I said.

I'm not sure if the radiation oncologist could see the state of denial on my face. But she confirmed in the first few minutes that the pathology report showed I had cancer and she'd see me a few weeks after the surgery when we'd start radiation therapy. She recommnded it as did the surgeon. The "C" word again. It was becoming reality.

She spent a little more than 40 minutes with me, explaining how the therapy worked, options, what was good, life expectancy, drawing out where the cancer was found in my breast. I knew more when I left her office and I trusted what she was saying. I left with brochures and pamphlets to help me do more research about breast cancer.

But I still wasn't ready to talk a lot about the "C" word.

Ahh!

No more nose clip. No breathing tube. No extra lip gloss to keep my lips moisturized during the radiation treatment. No computer screen to watch monitor my breathing while the radiation is being administered. No button to push while I'm holding my breath. No coach talking me through each step.

The last days of my radiation treatment just got easier.

Today, I received the first radiation boost treatment. After 28 treatments where the entire breast was targeted, I now receive radiation just in the area where the cancer had been located. An attachment with a cutout especially designed for my treatment placed on the machine and lined up precisely with what was seen on x-rays. The attachment narrows the beam so it is concentrated in one area.

Yesterday, the radiation therapist circled the area with a blue marker and placed a thin, clear plastic disc on the area and drew cross lines on it.

When I went in this morning, they told me it would be much easier and shorter. No more radiation delivered six times in short intervals. Just one delivery of about 15 to 20 seconds with me lying very still with my arm resting above my head and breathing normally.

While the delivery has gotten easier, the fatigue I've felt in the last few days has not gone away.

Thanks to JC Lamkin for sending a link for coping with fatigue experienced during radiation therapy. Much of what is suggested, my radiation oncologist also told me to do. I'm trying. Click here to read what it says.

Countdown...4 days.

I almost didn't receive my radiation therapy today. It wasn't the weather. It was the machine administering the radiation.

The radiation therapists had set everything precisely. I had been adjusted on the bed.The attachment for the radiation boost was in position. And the therapists left the room to administer the radiation dose.

But this time the machine didn't hum for 20 seconds or so. It made a few funny noises and that was it. And then everyone was back in the room going over the adjustments. Checking and rechecking. This happened three times.

I started getting a little nervous. I was ready for the treatment. I'm too close to the end of the therapy sessions. I didn't want to leave without it.

And then the engineer was called in. He pulled it apart, made a few more adjustments and again everyone left the room. This time it hummed.

I relaxed.

This happened once before during the first week of my radiation therapy when I was still using the breathing machine. That time, the computer system crashed and no one could get it to come back up.

I waited for almost an hour while everyone worked on it, pulled apart cables and rebooted the system. Nothing. I went home without a treatment that day_ disappointed but grateful I'd have more time to practice. I still had a long way to go for treatment. An extra day was added to the back end of the 33 sessions so I'd go through the complete program.

There was no disappointment today.

Countdown...2 days!

Today is the last day of radiation therapy for me. Just a few hours away.

Looking back, the seven weeks went by very quickly. But going through it seemed like it was taking forever. I had to add a new routine to my life_ going to therapy five days a week. At first I worried how would I get there on time each day.

Now I'm thinking about what it will be like not having to go each day.

February and March have been challenging because of the weather. It's been cold, rainy and snowy. But I didn't miss a day and neither did any of the other patients I see in the waiting room each day.

But still I'm looking forward to it.

Countdown...1 more!

I'm done!

My last treatment was a few hours ago. I got hugs from the radiation therapists and good wishes from my doctor.

And then I came into my office to see smiley face balloons taped to the door. Tht's just how I feel, I thought. I logged on to catch up on some work.

But about an hour into my day, the managing editor, my fellow deputy managing editors, reporters, photographers, artists, copy editors and administration people all gathered around my office to help me celebrate the last day of treatment. A huge basket of edible fruit made to look like flowers suddently appeared along with a tray of tempting danish.

What a wonderful day this is!

It is great to share this moment with everyone in our Newsroom. And flowers! I've received a vase of roses from my colleagues and a vase of white day lillies. They are absolutely beautiful. My husband called, my son called and my daughter called.

And I also had a chance to share my last day with a couple of patients I've met in the changing room and waiting room. One woman had already left following her treatment and I had to call to her across the street. I wanted to wish her good luck as well because she finishes on Friday.

The other woman I saw came in singing following her treatment. She's just starting and still has several weeks to go. I wished her good luck as well and she told me she knew she'd be all right. I know she will be.

And I will too.

Countdown...Zero!

It felt good to sleep a little longer this morning.

Didn't have to rush out to the hospital for treatment. But I also missed not having to go to treatment. Meeting with the radiation therapists had become a part of my daily routine, people I saw everyday.

So a shout out and a thank you to Julianne, Dolores, Susan, Lisa, Nicole, Doreen and Matt who I spent most of my time with. They were always patient and pleasant and made it easy to go through treatment each day. I'll stop by to say hello next time I'm in the building.

What's next?

I had two goals I discussed back in January with my radiation oncologist. I told her I wanted to I wanted to work with college students on a student newspaper covering an editors' convention next week in Washington, D.C. and I wanted to walk in the five-mile Breast Cancer walk. She said I should be able to do them.

I've completed the radiation therapy so I'm heading to Washington in the next few days to work at the conference. I'm excited. It's always great to work with young people who are learning about our industry. I'm still get tired easily but I will work to manage it.

Now to do the walk, I have to exercise. Exercise. I haven't been doing very much of it even though my radiation oncologist told me I could do some. It would help build my stamina. So tomorrow I'm going to start even if I just walk for 15 minutes. I've got to start somewhere.

It's spring. A new beginning.

When my surgeon told me during the follow-up visit in January that I was a breast cancer survivor, I nodded and said, yes, you are right.

I understood what she was saying intellectually but I didn't really feel like a survivor. At that point, I was still facing radiation therapy and didn't quite know how it would go. I asked myself a lot of "what ifs."

With radiation therapy behind me and knowing all the cancer was removed during the lumpectomy, I do feel like a breast cancer survivor And I am thrilled to be getting on with life.

But I did hold my breath this mornig waiting to hear the news about the wife of Sen. John Edwards, who is seeking the presidential nomination on the democratic ticket. I was hoping there was not a recurrence for her. Sadly, there is. But she has a fighting spirit that will carry her through.

And she is inspiring to all who are breast cancer survivors. I know the fear of recurrence will always be in the back of my mind but I know I will also continue to fight.

I awoke this morning to snippets of Elizabeth Edwards interview last night with Katie Couric on 60 Minutes. Both she and her husband have been criticized for the decision to continue with John Edwards campaign to run for president despite her recurrence of breast cancer.

I loved her response. "Either you push forward with the things were doing yesterday or you start dying. I don't want to do that. I choose to live."

Inspirational words to anyone who's fighting breast cancer or any other disease. "I choose to live." It sounds strong. It sounds purposeful.

"I choose to live." It's what keeps everyone going. Keeping your eye on the future. Looking forward to the next day, no matter how hard or what challenges it may bring. By making the announcement that her cancer had returned and she would learn how to live with the disease, she'd made the choice.

Over the last few months, I've learned about making that choice and redefining who I am. It is not the cancer who defines who I am but I am someone who lives with cancer. I am also a wife, a mother, an editor, a church member, a stamp collector and more. I choose to live as well and fight the disease and talk to others about continuing to live.

Elizabeth, you keep choosing to live and so will I.

So, is your energy back yet? my middle sister called to ask me. I mean are you still tired, going to bed early? She called after 9 p.m. so I was in bed at that point.

Well, it's not totally back yet and yes, I do still go to bed early when I can. (I'm working with journalism students who want to be professionals this week. No early to bed for me.)

My doctor told me it would take several weeks and then I'd suddenly realize that I do feel better. And by the time six weeks pass, I should really feel like my energy is back. The effects of the fatigue from radiation therapy stay with you for at least another month.

So I still need rest and to take care of my skin affecteed by the radiation. Still, I do feel a little more energized. It's good.

I've seen the future this week and it is so full of hope and so very bright that I can't wait to get there.

l've been working with the most diverse and energetic group of young journalists ever. And a professional staff of journalists who all volunteered for this project. We worked long and hard hours.

About 30 of us came together last Saturday to produce four editions of a newspaper, a daily website and a daily blog for coverage of the annual American Society of Newspaper Editors convention. Most of us did not know each other but we quickly bonded and settled in to produce information acrossevery platform.

They wrote for the paper, they did audio clips, they blogged, they produced video and they wrote for the website. If you'd like to see their work, check out the ASNE Reporter at asne.org.

It has been awesome. The students who participated had a chance to build their portfolios to help them land professional jobs. And editors from across the country had a chance to check out prospective hires.

What does this have to do with breast cancer? Everything.

These are the students who will report on more breakthroughs to fight the disease, who will produce graphics that explain how a cure works or how a new treatment works, who will question why a study was done or why a study didn't include more women or African Americans or why hasn't a study looked more closely at how breast cancer impacts a certain segment of the population.

They'll tell the stories of the breast cancer survivors or of those that didn't survive. They'll take the pictures of the faces of those who have the disease or have been affected by the disease.

They are the ones who are going to make the difference.

Having the have the opportunity to work with them for this last week has been a blessing. I hope I've been able to encourage them to stay in our business and tell those stories and thousands of others in the future.

It looks awfully bright from here.