Bacon = Mindfulness

Hi Team,

Many of you have asked me about the Mindfulness class I'm starting to take, so I decided to write a post (or maybe a few as this progresses) about how this is going, and what exactly it is from my perspective.

I really like the description on their website - "Through lectures, exercises and group discussions participants learn how habitual reactions to stress create anxiety, depression, fear, anger and possibly illness. Students learn how to change their reactions by bringing awareness to the arising mental thoughts or emotional feelings in a non-judgmental way."

Keep in mind this is my journey through learning about this and in no way am I an expert on anything I write in here, blah blah blah disclaimer.  Ok.  So as I understand it, mindfulness is the practice of clearing away all the clutter in your brain, that constant stream of consciousness and chatter that goes on.  This tendency is in everyone, and is part of our natural human-ness so there is not the goal of making it go away, but rather the practice of recognizing it, acknowledging it, and choosing to be aware of your present moment.  The goal specifically having to do with trauma (physical, mental, emotional) is not to make the pain go away, but rather to allow us to sit with it in a non-judgemental way, and approach thoughts as just that - thoughts.  Every time something enters your mind such as "this sucks" or "I'm bored" or "I'm in so much pain I can't stand it" or "My life is never going to be the same", you recognize it, consider it a thought, and let it pass.  Then you approach the next moment as a new beginning. 

My first thought on this practice is that it sounds great in theory, but I am doubtful that I have enough self control to recognize these judgements in the moment.  Sure when I'm sitting on the floor in a quiet room and someone is telling me to be aware of the present moment, it's quite easy.  When I'm rushing around my daily life, realistically, I don't see myself being that self-aware.  So that's a thought, and something to consider, but I let it pass and then just sit in my present moment and appreciate right now.  See how that works?  :-D

What I really liked about this particular teacher and look forward to in this class is that she is going to take us through a number of different meditation techniques and teach us different ways to practice.  She says everyone is different and different things will stick depending on what works for you.  What I especially like is that she talked about recognizing that sitting on the floor meditating for 30-45 mins a day is not realistic for most people.  The mindfulness she teaches is a practice that can be done in any moment that you are able to bring yourself into the present and be aware.  For example, one woman in a past class dedicated the moment that she came home from work to give her child a hug as her mindful moment.  Another person had to commute across the golden gate bridge and really enjoyed that part of her drive, and dedicated that time while she was driving across the golden gate bridge as her mindful moment out of her day.  A moment to just be there, fully take in your environment and be still.  The hope is that over time and with trying different things, each of us will find something that works for us, to bring a mindfulness practice into our lives.

Our homework for this past week was about mindful eating.  We did an exercise in class where we ate a raisin.  Something most of us have eaten so many times, yet we usually pop it in (maybe a handful?), chew a few times and swallow.  We practiced actually looking at the raisin, noticing the color, shape, ridges, texture.  Putting it in your mouth and really feeling the body's reaction to it - how does it taste?  Does it taste different on one side than the other? Chew it slowly and see how the taste and the texture change.  Do you tend to chew more on one side than the other?  What happens as you keep chewing it without swallowing as we usually do so quickly?  The homework was to have just one mindful bite each day.  We all eat, at least a meal or two (or in my case sometimes many more) every day.  One bite.  Notice it, take it slow and just pay attention to it.  I made my first bite bacon.  It was salty, crispy, fatty and delicious.  Makes me salivate and melts in my mouth.  I had the thought that I really should not be eating bacon, and then I let that pass as a judgement.  It was great.

That's all for now - I look forward to any of your thoughts on this journey!  I'm hoping that once I learn to clear away the clutter in my mind (of course, done once and for all just like doing dishes), I can spread that more into clearing clutter from my apartment too.  We'll see how that goes.  It's the journey of a lifetime I suppose.

Love,
Amy

Just Another Day

Hi Team,

So tomorrow is really just another day.  But it's also a year to the day since my double mastectomy and, while we are marking milestones, 5 years to the day since I got engaged (and then broke it off 9 mos later).  I'm kind of thinking I might want to call in sick tomorrow and just stay in bed to make sure nothing exciting happens. 

I've been noticing on a regular basis lately how much I love my life.  I figure one of the benefits of having gone through really tough times is being able to truly appreciate the really good times and I'm definitely doing that.  It's amazing what a difference a year can make.  I do work a lot, but I also have a lot of fun.  I spend time with people I love and I smile a lot.  As much as possible. 

I have been venturing lately into the world of dating again.  I figure it's been over a year since my last relationship ended so I should probably at least put myself out there again.  And to my surprise, it's been fun and interesting.  I've mostly so far been doing a field test with online dating, I signed up for both ok cupid and eharmony just to juxtopose and compare the two.  I've been on a few dates but overall I've made the following observations:  1.  No matter how many I have, first dates will always make me nervous 2. There are more fishes in the sea than I originally thought, but you can't judge a fish by it's online dating profile  3.  There is no right time to tell a guy you are getting to know that you had cancer.   This is an interesting one.  I have yet to be... let's say, "intimate" with a guy that wasn't with me before my surgery.  At what point do you break into the conversation and say... "Oh Yeah, I've been to the hospital too, I had cancer and got my boobs cut off.  Oh yeah, these?  They're fake, yeah I don't have nipples anymore, just scars.  I know!  You can't tell from the outside".  No!  It's just not something that people can relate to at my age.

I realize it's probably all in my head and as soon as I stop making it a big deal, it will stop being this awkward thing I can't talk about with guys I am attracted to... but yeah I certainly haven't figured that one out.  I guess that's why I need practice! 

On the bright side, tomorrow I am starting a Mindfulness course.  In the brief couple of months that I was actually seeing a therapist last year, she introduced me to the concept of Mindfulness.  This is the practice of being present in your current moment and aware in your being, just observing with an open mind and soft heart.  It's a lot more difficult than we might think.  So often we get caught up in the incessant chatter of our stream of consciousness and don't stop to just be.  It takes practice.  So, for the next 8 weeks every Thursday night from 7-9pm I will be practicing.  Wish me luck!

Just for comparison sake and a reminder what a difference a year can make (if I didn't know I might not guess I was the same person... or am I... ):

Last Year - Aug. 2010

This Year - Aug. 2011

Love,
Amy

Port-less!

Hi Team,

I felt a bit melodramatic after posting that last post, as it actually is a fairly routine procedure, and everything went just fine.  Although I have to say, it didn't hurt that I took a few valium.

So I went into the Dr.'s office and they cleaned the area and gave me a few local anesthesia shots in my chest near my port (you know, like when you get a filling in your tooth) and then chiseled away at it for a while - 2 hours exactly, to get it out.  She said my body had quite taken a liking to the thing, since normally it only takes a half hour to take out - and normally only one incision but she had to make two, one where the port was and one near my jugular vein to pull it out of the vein.  But all in all, not bad.  I got to hear all about my surgeon's recent trip to the south of France and her restaurant recommendations for my upcoming trip to Chicago.  Overall quite a nice chat, although I would have preferred that we do it over a glass of wine than with me on an operating table. 

I did, on the suggestion of one of my friends, ask if I could take it home.  She said no, they have to send it back somewhere since it's a medical device.  I told her, I wanted to used it as a paperweight.  To which she said, it's not really heavy enough for that.  I told her I don't really  use that much paper, working at an internet company.  She said, it would probably be better to make a bracelet out of it.  What a great suggestion!  Anyway, I didn't get it - but I did get a picture of it!  This is the actual port that was in my body, giving me all that chemo and herceptin treatments.  Whew.  So, I am now port-less.  Yay!

Love,

Amy

Another Milestone

Hi Team,

I was going to try to just fly on by, but my introspective nature has once again stopped me in my tracks.  I get my port out tomorrow!  A few fun flashbacks for you.  I remember when my oncologist told me I'd be starting chemotherapy and I might want to consider a port.  I thought to myself (internally) 'that's not necessary.'  My chemo is going to be quick and I will be done before I know it.  Fast forward an f-ing week to me checked into the kaiser hospital taking half a liter of blood every 12 hours and stabbing me in every possible corner trying to find a good vein.  I felt like a pin cushion!  I was so happy to get discharged and once my white blood cells were high enough my first order of business was to get a port. 

Going in to get a port was the first time I'd been checked in to an actual hospital.  The nurse put an IV in me, then Dr. Fisch asked me to sign a form that said I had "informed consent" about this surgery - although he proceeded to inform me that he didn't really believe in informed consent.  To which I didn't ask any further questions because I wasn't sure I wanted to know.  This in retrospect was the first bad sign.  Then the nurse proceeded to ask me if I have an advance directive.  Ie. A legal document that tells people what to do with you if you either become a vegetable or die.  Let me tell you, if you DON'T have an advance directive, or like me, didn't have any clue what that was, it is not reassuring to be asked that 2 minutes before they put some serious drugs in you and start cutting.  That said, they drugged me up with a great drung called versed which is supposed to be an anti-anxiety and amnesia-enducing drug.  Unfortunately, I remember.  As the dr. first cut into me, I could feel it, and I cried.  And I remember the nurses gathering around and giving me another few doses of versed, probably enough to sedate a grizzly bear, and me dozing off into a weird state of semi-consciousness.  I woke up as I was getting moved off the operating table, and told them, Thank you for fixing that - that was really bad at first but you did a good job.  They said, I'm glad  you remember it that way.

Fast forward to about a month ago in Dr. Langer's office, my surgeon, I was there for a check up and she says - now that you're done with all your IV treatment, you can get your port out.  Just schedule a regular appointment in my office and I'll take it out.  Now, please note that a port is a small peice of metal and silicone in my chest with a tube going into my jugular vein for administering IV medication.

I said to Dr. Langer.  "Ok, uhm, just in your office?  I don't need to go to the hospital?" She says - no, it will be fine we'll just do it here.  To which I say, ok here is what I'm envisioning, you tell me what you think.  Dr. cuts open my chest and pulls my port out of my jugular vein and my neck goes spurting blood all over the doctor's office, Kill Bill style.  She said, don't worry - that's not going to happen.  Your body will clot it, and plus, you've been through far worse.  Famous not-encouraging words.  Although I guess I appreciate the effort.

Anyway, tomorrow is another milestone.  I'm excited and scared.  It's amazing to me that even after everything I've been through, I am still scared of something relatively little like this - and that I somehow think I am just going to take a bus there, 2 valium to get through, and a cab home.  Thank God for my friends that call me out on my bullshit and make me ask for support.  You would think by now it would come more naturally!  Either way, its exciting stuff because it's one more step to putting all this behind me.

Love,
Amy

Fun and Morbidity

Hi Team -

I did like the idea of just ending this chapter of my life and 'riding off into the sunset' with my happy ending, but let's be honest.  You can't just decide a chapter is done and that's it.  There's so much more to tell!  So I decided to keep sharing. 

For the last few months I've been throwing myself into my new job, working hard and playing hard.  I love my new team and my new company (and I'm not just saying that because they might read this) although I do miss the people I used to work with, it has really done wonders for my mind to be in this new job.  I actually thought last year that maybe chemo had just killed a bunch of brain cells and I just didn't have the capacity to be as sharp as I was before... this new job has forced me to wake up, pay attention and learn something new. And, I'm doing it!  It feels great to have a mental accomplishment when I felt so dried up mentally for so long. It still takes me longer to think of people's names and brain farts come more often than they used to, but maybe I can just blame that on getting older.

 




 Back in October 2010, the month after my bilateral mastectomy, after my ex-boyfriend had just broken up with me, and I was still bald and feeling not very feminine or happy, I decided to book myself a trip to Costa Rica to have something to look forward to.  Well, in May, I went - to Costa Rica and Panama.  My mom went with me to Panama and 3 of my closest friends went with me to Costa Rica. 

Some highlights:
- 'Alitos de Bufalo' on a restaurant menu is not some fancy buffalo dish, but rather buffalo wings (ie. chicken)
- When teaching a first time surfer (me) how to stand up on a surf board, the high-pressure "GO! NOW!, Don't Wait When I say GO" does not actually work

- Apparently Panama has the world's best coffee, I did not hear about this growing up in Kona (also the world's best coffee)

- Marriage ritual for Kuna Indians:  The man goes running off hiding in the town and his friends find him and drag him kicking and screaming into the woman's house where they have the marriage ceremony and he then assimilates into her family.  How realistic of them. 

- Crabs are only cute when there are only a few of them on the porch, not hundreds covering the street when you are trying to walk home









Another experience on my recent trip made me very aware of a new world view I seem to be developing in a strong way.  It's slightly morbid, but in my opinion, realistic.  It doesn't depress me, but rather motivates me!  Mom and I were flying from Panama City to the San Blas Archeapelago and we got on a plane that had 8 seats at the most - Mom says "We all get window seats!"  It was a little plane and a bumpy ride, and I thought to myself, 'hmmm I wonder if this is how I die.'  Not in the scared way of 'ohmygod I'm going to die' but more like, well, I'm going to die at some point - it wasn't in 2010 from breast cancer, I wonder if it's in 2011 from a plane crash.  Well, it wasn't (so far).  I guess it's more the discovery of the concept that it is inevitable and could be at any time - we envision growing old with our families and eventually dying in a hospital bed with your children, grandchildren, etc all there holding your hand.  I don't think that's how it goes for most people.  My uncle died suddenly while scuba diving.  My best friend in college died suddenly in a car accident.  My great grandmother lived to be 102 (I think, I kind of lost track at one point) - A different uncle was telling me recently that his daughter is turning 30 and freaking out about it.   My immediate response, just popped out of my mouth before I could sensor it (although I don't think I would have anyway), was "She should be glad she made it that far." 

Anyway, my point is, you never know, but that can be a positive motivating thing.  I now get in my car and think almost every time, I am more likely to die in a car accident than of breast cancer.  It's oddly empowering to me to be able to think these things and not be afraid of them.  It allows me, for example, to not feel bad for opening a good bottle of wine just to have a glass by myself with dinner.  Or push myself until I feel like throwing up at my spin class - because why not.  Knowing that a beach is the #4 most shark infested beach in the world (Beach at Bolinas, thank you Dave for the jeapordy fact), does not make me want to get out of the water.  Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not reckless.  I went through chemo and fought for my life, I didn't do all that for nothing - I do highly value my time, but I am also weirdly/acutely aware that this time is limited.  I hope I keep that sense for a very long time.  I enjoy it. 

Love,

Amy

Choose your own adventure: Ride off into the sunset or turn back to fight the dragon?

Hi Team,

A year ago today, I walked into the radiologist's office at Kaiser to get an ultrasound on a lump I had felt in my breast. I ended up first getting an ultrasound, then getting an uncomfortable twisty-face look (which I now recognize as the you've got cancer look) and a core needle biopsy all in the same appointment. I had walked in thinking I probably had some little cyst from changing my birth control. I very clearly remember after the ultrasound, weird look, and biopsy, then getting my first mammogram and being sat down in the radiologists office as she explained to me what she saw on my mammogram.

She said, I can't tell you for sure until I get the results of the biopsy back. But, based on my experience, all these little white dots we see around your lump area are called micro-calcifications and they are a telltale sign of something really bad. She wouldn't use the C word with me. So I said it, 'so you think it's cancer?' she said - well, yes based on my experience, I would guess that's highly likely. What we see here are the signs of cancer cells dying off. I don't have a for sure answer for you, but it's most likely the case and I want you to prepare yourself for that news.

I walked out of the office stunned and still believing she was wrong. I took a deep breath and repeated the words I had just heard, even though they hadn't really processed for myself yet, to my friend Monika, then to my Mom, then to my (now ex) boyfriend. I was numb.

It was not until the next morning, 4/2/2010, as I was in the SFO airport around 11am with a bloody mary and chicken sandwich, on my way to a weekend in Vegas with the (now ex) boyfriend for our 3 year anniversary, that I got the call. I remember trying to furiously take notes as she said words that sounded like a foreign language to me, but certainly were not good. She said, you've got cancer and not just in one spot, but it's invasive, meaning it's spread from it's original place. You'll have to come in for more scans over the next week so we can determine how far it's spread and what your next course of action will be. You will definitely have to do some sort of surgery. You will probably have to do chemotherapy. And you may also have to do radiation.

After I got off the phone, I just sat there. I pushed my sandwich away and pulled my bloody mary close to me, putting the the straw in my mouth, and downed it in between sobs. I let tears stream down my face right in the airport restaurant. I was totally oblivious to the outside world and felt scared and alone. I called my mom and boyfriend again and choked out the words again, and asked them to start telling people so I didn't have to tell everyone myself.

I left the restaurant and sat down with my computer and started typing out all my thoughts. I started two different files, entitled "My Fears" and "My questions" - the questions mostly were medical in nature and answered with a lot of research and asking questions to the doctors. The fears are a lot more complex. They mostly all came true. I had to tell everyone, I had to do chemo, I had to take time off work, I had to figure out a way to make it all work financially, my boyfriend did end up leaving me at the time I most needed him. There were a few that didn't come true, but in that one instant in time, I was terrified of it all, and for good reason. I still am terrified for that girl sitting in the SFO gate area, not knowing what comes next. Blissful ignorance swept out from under me like a dirty rug.

Over the last year, I've learned a lot about breast cancer, learned a lot about friendships and relationships. I've built an incredibly strong bond with my family and friends, and had some really fun evenings just sitting and talking, even though I felt shitty, those memories are incredibly close to my heart. I've done chemo, gotten past my fear of needles and blood, got my boobs cut off and gotten new ones. I've lost all my hair, but had it grow back, and lost a relationship, but gained an incredible new career and job. Karma is finally repaying a few of the debts from the past year, and I have an exciting fresh start. For a long time I found it hard to genuinely smile, and sometimes I still do. When you are constantly thinking about really hard stuff, and really tragic decisions, and it faces you in the mirror every day, it becomes really hard to joke around and be whimsical. Finally I have started having days that are only few and far between where I have to think about my survival or feeling or looking really shitty. I have started laughing again in a genuine way. It didn't feel natural at first, and maybe only over the last week or so has it started coming back more easily. But it's there, and knowing that is the first step in my having faith that it can become the norm again.

I'm going to end my story while we're on a happy ending. Because I like happy endings. And I know life has a way of cycling through extreme happiness and extreme sadness. And they both come back around. That may sound kind of morbid, but it depends on what kind of a person you are. As I look at the glass half full, I see it as realistic. Yes shitty stuff happens, and you know it will, and you have to face it head on and deal with it. But you also know that when it does happen, that means you're that much closer to the good stuff happening again. And while you're in the middle of the good stuff, just make sure you appreciate it, make sure the people you love know it, and be kind to other human beings because you don't know where they are in their cycle.

Love,

Amy

A Turn for the Better (Finally!)

Hi Team,

I didn't intend to keep this blog going forever, as it's a chapter in my life that I hope to close sooner rather than later. That said, I've had some fun and positive developments in my life lately, and as I come closer to a year since my breast cancer diagnosis, I'm hoping to end this on a more positive note.

So, my expansion is done, I have new boobs! Well, so the entire process is not completely done, I will still have to have another surgery at some point in the future to switch out my temporary implants for more permenant, softer/more realistic ones. It's so weird, they look great (in my humble opinion), and you would never know that they aren't real just from looking, but the minute you touch them, they are solid as a rock and immoveable. That will change with the final implants though. Granted I still no longer have nipples or any sensation of touch over most of my chest, but at least I can pretend most of the time and nobody will know the difference!

In other news, you may remember me mentioning that about 70% of women who go through the chemotheraphy that I went through go through menopause, it kills the ovaries, and you're done with the baby-making. Not that I want to have children now, but I definitely wanted the option to choose... well, a few weeks ago... I started a period! I went through all the menopause symptoms and hadn't had a period for over a year, but this is a really good sign that things are starting to work in there again, the body is normalizing. Now, I don't want to be overly confident, this does not mean that for sure I'm in the clear, but it's a really good sign toward the positive.

Another fun development that I never would have guessed would come my way this year is that I got a new job working for Google! I will be an account manager for Adwords, thier search advertising team, working in Media and Entertainment, calling on Video Game publishing companies. A lot of people have been really surprised at my willingness to make a move so quickly away from Walmart where I actually did have a great gig as a buyer, but Google is probably one of only about 2-3 companies that could have lured me away. And everything happened as if it was just meant to be. Last year my friend who works there forwarded me a job rec that involved travel (travel is one of my biggest passions in life) and I thought, sure! And forwarded her my resume. I didn't hear anything back, and I didn't really think much of it until I got a call from a recruiter in late December, saying they had a great opportunity for me if I was interested. There is a lot of really good press talking about what a great company Google is to work for, so I decided to explore my opportunities, be open to a new direction in life. Or at least see what all the hype is about :) I went down to Mountain View for an afternoon to interview, and I felt right at home. The people were fun and nice, the environment seemed to be productive and comfortable, with lots of nice amentities. I clicked really well with the team, and a few weeks later I had an offer! Everything just seemed to click and line up perfectly, so I decided it was time for a positive change in my life. There are so many times in life where you are handed a really shitty situation and you have to make the best of it, that when you are handed a really awesome situation, sometimes it's hard to recognize or make sense of it right away. I feel like that's what happened here, obviously not without a little work on my part, but it all happened just the way it was supposed to, so I decided it is the right path for me to start new.

If you need any convincing as to the awesomeness of working for Google, here are a few articles for your perusal:

Fortune 100 Best Companies to Work For (Google #4 for 2011)
The Overview of Working at Google

So anyway, as you can tell I'm excited, and happy for a really positive change in my life. I'm excited to be in an environment where ideas and excitement are encouraged and enabled to become reality. Although I can't quite see around the corner yet, I have a feeling this is going to open up some really exciting possibilities for what the future holds.

Soon, I'll be having my 1 year anniversary of my diagnosis, so look for another post about my year in retrospect. I'm thinking that will be a good time to close this book and hopefully move on to a more fun and happy 2011 and beyond.

Love,
Amy

New Year's Resolutions

Hi Team,

Long time no talk. I came back last week from a wonderful, restorative 2 and a half weeks in Kona at home. Amazing what the slow pace, sun and family do to restore my sense of me and feeling comfortable in my body again. It's interesting but I've found that it's easier to bring my mind back into my body at home.

Basically to recap, I went to the beach every day, had lots of fun hanging out with family and caught up with some long lost friends. I read a lot, and practiced meditating - it's a work in progress. Progress helped by the book my therapist recommended to me - Full Catastrophe Living (by John Kabat-Zinn). I am practicing making my mind still, bringing myself back into my present moment and not focusing so much on reliving my past, or worrying about my hypothetical future, but just being in my current moment. It's surprisingly hard.



My birthday came and went with some celebration, but mostly on my part, with happiness that it's over. I realize it's just the next day in a series of days, but it feels to me like a chapter (which I was looking forward to the end of) is over. It's still not easy, but every day I get further away from my diagnosis, further from the freshness of the memory of what it's like to be going through chemo, further from the realization that I was getting my boobs cut off, and further from that feeling of not recognizing myself. Every day I get more aquainted with my new self, what I look like now, even though still a work in progress. I don't look so sick to myself when I look in the mirror, and it's easier to smile genuinely. There was a point in time when I remembered who I was before I went through chemo.



It's hard to remember that I had a life, was happy and knew myself and what I stood for. I got so distracted with doing what I needed to do to save my life, that once I didn't have to do it anymore, I didn't know what to do with myself. Like a deer in headlights, still frozen in the middle of the road, not knowing what to do next. In my journal on my way home to Hawaii I decided to start chronicling my year, to put it down on paper and start letting go of it. I started to write about my diagnosis in April and realized, wait, that is not the beginning of the year. So I went back to Jan/Feb and realized what an amazing year I had also. I got to travel to 3 new countries, experience new cultures and do some really amazing things. Then I got to thinking about who I was then - what were the things that I stood for and held true to myself. I was self-confident and happy, loved myself and held my rule of #1 treating others with compassion and acceptance and #2 to leave no rock unturned, life is short, so live it. I knew that even before I was diagnosed, and I wasn't afraid to go out and do it. My cancer diagnosis made me more afraid. I know none of us are going to get out of here alive, but my self-confidence must have been stored in my breasts or went out along with my white blood cells during chemo. But - the great thing is, I am still that person. I just forgot about it in my all-consuming fight for my life. I actually really like who I am and how I approach life. I forgot about all that when I didn't have the chance to think about it.



So, to get to the subject of my post - my new year's resolution. Is to be me. Exactly who I am today, in this moment. It's mostly the same person I have been, with a few improvements, and a slightly altered world view, but still not taking life for granted, and treating as many people as I can with love and acceptance.



Also - an updated picture so you all can see my progress on the hair-growing front - slowly but surely it comes back!





Happy New Year!

Amy