I don't feel like writing an intro so I'm just going to jump right into my thoughts:
I need to suck it up and get a primary doctor here.
I always lie to myself and say I don't need a primary doctor. 'I go home every Christmas to see my oncologist and gyno. I go home every summer to see my primary, gastrointestinal, and thoracic surgeon. That's enough. I mean, most people go once a year. So I'm seeing a doctor 5 times a year. If anything happens, there's always Urgent Care.'
These are the lies I tell myself. The fact of the matter is, I get sick. Frequently. And it's not always when I'm scheduled to go home. Cancer has given me a very weak immune system. I live a very healthy lifestyle, but it doesn't matter. Such is the life of a cancer patient. I was warned this would most likely be my fate, but I was confident I could be the rarity. *hangs head*
I know that it's imperative I establish a doctor that can get to know me, my medical history, and get me in when I really need them. I just hate admitting that my immune system sucks so badly.
Right now, I need a doctor. Badly. My job leaves me stressed out; more stressed than I've ever been in my life. The stress is taking a massive toll on my body. In so many ways.
I'm not sleeping. It takes me hours to fall asleep, and when I finally do, it's never a deep sleep. I'm always stressing about what the next day will bring. It doesn't matter how detailed I make my to do list before leaving work. The nature of my job is that something, many things, will unexpectedly arise the next day. My to do list will multiply by 30. I don't operate well that way. I'm very, very Type A and suffer from OCD. I have a routine and a system. When it's disturbed, or others don't operate the same as I do, it affects me. I lay in bed at night and my fear of the next day, the unknowns, the unexpecteds take over.
Some days I have zero appetite. Other days I can't stop eating. (But I choose healthy options on those days)
My anxiety is taking too much control. I never know if I'm nauseous from anxiety or if I'm coming down with a real illness (as was the case this weekend. Friday I was feeling under the weather, but assumed it was my normal anxiety. I was very wrong. I woke up Saturday with a fever of 101.6, chills, body aches, headache, and couldn't keep anything down. Thankfully I got some great sleep all day Saturday.) I'm completely out of Xanax and the only way to get more is to see a doctor.
My acid reflux is so bad, which is to be expected when you're experiencing large amounts of stress and anxiety. It's becoming too much to handle. My medicine did an okay job before this, but now? There's not much that is helping it.
I'm working long days, and now, I'm in Relay season. Which means I'm staying up for over 24 hours straight with set up, Relay, and tear down. My first Relay weekend, it rained from 8pm until about 3am, and I was outside for it all. I knew I would get sick. And I did. I didn't have time for that, which only left me more stressed and anxious.
I've had a headache for almost three weeks straight. Tylenol does nothing. Ibuprofen does nothing. Aleve, for some odd reason, makes my acid reflux so much worse. Midol eased it a little, but not much.
My cycle is completely messed up. TMI but it's the truth.
I need Xanax. I need sleep. I need to learn to relax and rest and not always feel like I need to be doing something. I need stress management. I've been reading up a lot on it and I'm doing what it says but goodness, it's just not working! I need to workout more. I squeeze it in when I can, but lately, that's either 5-6am or 10pm. And quite frankly, I can't get myself up that early after such exhausting days. The days I do get up that early, I'm not left feeling energized. It's as if I took my only energy and exhausted it on the morning workout and I'm dragging all day. I try at night, but my workouts are half-assed because I'm so tired.
I know things will be better come the beginning of May. My work schedule will drastically slow down, to only 40 hours a week. My stress will decrease by about a billion, I will hopefully sleep better, and I can workout, real workouts, at least 5 days a week.
I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. That's what I keep repeating. Realistically, it's only 20 more days. I know I can do it. But the days are passing slowly and my body is suffering.
So here's my question, what do you do for stress management? I know I haven't listed all that I do, but in a nutshell, off the top of my head, I:
- make prioritized to do lists each day before leaving work
- I am highly organized
- I tackle my most dreaded, difficult, etc task first so that it's out of the way and I don't stress about it all day
- I eat healthy
- I drink lots of water and occasionally green tea
- I don't check my email once home (which is really hard but it helps)
- I have partnership agreements outlining my roles and my volunteers' roles, means of contact and hours, etc.
- put down the phone, laptop, and tv about two hours before bedtime. I either read, journal, or lay there.
- I work out as often as I can, when my body can handle it. Sometimes it's only a 15 minute run or a quick 20 minute at home workout. (nothing is better than something in my opinion.)
- I don't do sleeping pills because while they knock me out quickly, I'm awake just three hours later, very anxious, pacing my house. (I've tried Ambien, Xanax, Ativan, Melatonin, and one other natural supplement I can't remember..and I'm too lazy to look in my cabinet and see what it is).
- Sleepy time tea helps, however, it only knocks me out but doesn't keep me sleeping. Although, it doesn't leave my anxious like the sleeping pills.
The mindset of "just don't stress about things you can't control" or "don't let it bother you" or other various don't work for me. I'm Type A. I worry. I'm a perfectionist. These are not thoughts that are just that easy for me to do. Not to say I can't change my ways of thinking, but that will take a lot of work and time, and it's certainly not going to happen during such a stressful time in my job. So without THAT suggestion of just changing out I think and operate, what do you do if you suffer from some of these same issues???
Showing posts with label Health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Health. Show all posts
Monday, April 14, 2014
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Forms Apparently Induce Tears & More Fears
Today has been so many back and forth phone calls.
My St. Louis Oncologist's nurse called and said that they're no longer going to order any imaging. The main reason being it will take 2-3 business days to get it run through Tricare and that would bring us to Tuesday at the earliest, and my appointment is Tuesday morning.
The second being, Dr. Adkins (my St. Louis oncologist) doesn't want to begin this all with the new oncologist feeling like Dr. Adkins is stepping on his toes. Which I understand, but it makes me nervous. I want Dr. Adkins to be involved so I'm really hoping my new oncologist (Dr. Patel) will actively seek his knowledge and input.
The last reason they want me to wait is because Dr. Patel might have his own imaging center within his cancer center, or his own tests he wants run. She also mentioned that imaging centers might not be the best place to go for something of this nature. That a radiology department within a cancer center is more equipped with people who deal with oncology related things on a daily basis. I agree and would feel more comfortable with this.
This afternoon, I drove to my new oncologist's office to sign the record release form. The facility (The Woodlands) is very, very nice. There are concierges to greet you as you walk into the building and help you find your way or assist you with anything else you need. I asked where Dr. Patel's office was and he told me the second floor, walked me to the elevators, pressed "up" and then told me to have a good day. When I got off the elevator, another concierges was there and asked where I was going. I told him Dr. Patel's office and he walked me right to the counter. I informed the girl I was there to sign the record release. She got that for me, along with new patient paperwork to bring back on Tuesday. While I was filling out the record release, I began crying. After I was done, I handed it back to her. The receptionist (probably a year or two younger than me) asked if I was okay and I said "I just never thought I'd be doing this again." She then began tearing up (which didn't help me), I said "Thank you, see you next week" and left. And the tears streamed down my face. I looked around saw too many familiar sights. A woman with a scarf wrapped around her head passed me. It stung and made me sick to my stomach. As I waited for the elevator, I noticed that the opposite way of my doctors office is the Infusion (chemo) center. The waiting room wasn't too crowded. It had a few cancer patients (recognized by their lack of hair or their weak and sick appearance.) It was also easy to pick out the worried family and friends with them. It brought back too many memories. I don't want to be here again. I don't want to see this. I don't want to go through this. The elevator opened up and I was able to escape those sights.
When I existed the elevator, I briskly walked to the front doors. The concierge's tone had changed (obviously in response to my tears) and gently said "Have a good day ma'am." I squeaked out a thank you and exited the building. The sidewalk was blocked by another concierge helping an old, bald, frail man into a wheel chair.
Another punch in the stomach. I don't want to get back to that. I don't want to be bald again. I don't want to wear a wig. I don't want to drop 15 pounds. I don't want to have to use a wheelchair again. I don't want to lose all my physical strength. I'm already fighting so hard to keep my mental and emotional strength, I don't know if I can keep doing it if it comes down to relapse. I don't want to depend on others for everything. I want to continue to grow my hair to the long length I'm wishing for. I want to be able to walk anywhere I want, and not need a wheelchair to simply walk down a hallway. I don't want to sleep away another 6+ months of my life. I don't want this. Any of this.
I sat in my car and cried. And cried. Nick didn't come with me. I told him I didn't need him to. Why would he? All I had to do was fill out my information and sign my name and leave. That doesn't require support. But I didn't even think about what being back in that element would do to me. When I got home, I told him how I cried while there. I immediately wished I hadn't told him because he wrapped me in his arms and felt so awful he didn't go with me. Just another person I felt guilty and horrible for provoking negative feelings.
After I calmed down, I decided to fill out the new patient forms. I know myself well enough to know that as the appointment draws closer, I get more nervous, don't think as clearly, and my hands get really shaky. The first few pages were simple. Just basic information about myself, my family history, and my history. List of current medications, previous surgeries and hospitalizations, etc. One of the last pages was a list of current symptoms, categorized such as "Constitutional Symptoms, Endocrine, Gastrointestinal, Cardiovascular, Psychological, Neurological, Integumentary" etc. What has me worried is that the "Constitutional Symptoms, Gastrointestinal, and Neurological" all have half or more of the symptoms circled "yes". Some are not everyday, but frequent. They could be nothing but they could point to something. I just hating seeing so many yeses circled on this sheet. It's just unsettling. And it's just more things to cause me to worry.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
The Hardest Part
The hardest part of all of this is telling your loved ones.
My parents both know what's going on. When I went to visit my sister this weekend, I told her I had the fever and the doctor was running some tests. I hadn't yet told my brother.
But now with the news of needing to see an oncologist, I knew I needed to fill my siblings in. My sister handled it well but she was also aware that something was going on.
Telling my brother was much harder. I knew he was going to be blind-sided because he didn't have a single clue that anything was going on with me. I asked him to call me after work because I needed to talk to him really briefly. I didn't make it seem as though anything was wrong because I didn't want to worry him all day at work.
When he called, I was so nervous. I absolutely hate telling people any sort of bad or potential bad news. Not to mention, I wanted to put up the front that I was okay. That I was strong. That I wasn't scared or worried. It was so hard to fight back my tears.
I told him everything that was going on and that they were sending me to an oncologist here and I was going to be getting a scan done this week. As the conversation unfolded, I could hear him sniffle every so often. I told myself he had been doing that at the beginning of the conversation, but reality was that I didn't notice it until I told him what was going on. He mentioned he wished he would have waited to call me until he was home and not at the gym. Which only led me to further believe that he was crying. It broke my heart.
My brother is seriously one of the strongest people I know. He doesn't cry. I can count the very, very few times I've seen him cry on one hand. He's always laughing, making jokes, and keeping things light-hearted. But not today. Today, I could sense his emotions. I could feel his fear. His worry. Which only made it harder for me. For many reasons. I cannot stand to know I'm the reason people are hurting. I know this situation is not my "fault" but I am the cause of it. I'm the one causing my family so much worry and stress. I'm the one causing their tears and hurt. I know it's only because they love me. I completely understand why they feel as they do. I would if I were in their shoes. But it hurts me. So badly. I don't want to ever cause my family negative emotions.
Knowing Ben wasn't his usual happy, joking self made me more worried. He's the one I could ALWAYS count on to make light of the situation. Make it seem like it's not a big deal and it's all going to be okay. But when he can't even do that, it shows just how scared and worried he is. Which then only fuels my fear.
As with my mother, I lied to him. I told him I wasn't all that worried. Just worried to see new doctors. I made it seem like it wasn't a big deal. I wanted to save him from negative feelings. So I lied. And I feel awful.
When we got off the phone, I told him I'd keep him updated next week. As we said goodbye, he said "I love you." I told him I loved him too, hung up, and just lost it. While my siblings and I are very, VERY close, we don't say I love you to one another. I'm not really sure why though??? My parents and each of us say it ALL THE TIME. But us siblings don't. When I was battling cancer in 2006 and life was full of unknowns, we said I love you all the time. It's as if we knew that might be it. And we weren't going to let a day pass without saying it. But it stopped when I got my first clear scan. As if we realized we were "safe" so we didn't need to say it anymore. But hearing him say it again, brought me back to that time in 2006.
The hardest part of this is the feelings and emotions I know others are experiencing. I hate that they are worrying, stressed, upset, and scared. I hate having to tell them these things. I wish I could just wait and not tell anyone other than Nick. Wait until we have clear answers. And hopefully positive clear answers.
I just sit here thinking that it HAS to be good news. Because if it's not, I honestly don't know how I'd tell my family and best friends. My first thoughts aren't of me and what I'll go through or what the outcome might be. My thoughts are my loved ones and how I don't want to hurt them. Don't want to tell them anything but positive news. I can't put my family and best friends through this again. It was so hard for them last time. So hard. My little sister shouldn't have to watch her big sister suffer and fight for her life. Not just once but twice. I'm supposed to be someone she can look up to and always know I'm here for her. She can always count on me and know I'm strong; not lying in a hospital bed weak and broken and fighting. My parents most definitely shouldn't have to deal with this. Not again. Once was too many. Parents should never have to watch their children suffer. Especially with a disease like cancer. In life, you just assume your parents go before you. As parents, I think they assume that too...that they won't watch their children pass away. It's not "natural" and I don't want my parents to have to fear that again. This time would be soooo much harder because I'm here, in Florida, away from them. And the decision would need to be made on what to do, where to have treatments done.
I just can't do this again. I refuse to put my parents through that. The hardest part of it all is not anything physical I will endure. The hardest part is hurting my family with the news.
My parents both know what's going on. When I went to visit my sister this weekend, I told her I had the fever and the doctor was running some tests. I hadn't yet told my brother.
But now with the news of needing to see an oncologist, I knew I needed to fill my siblings in. My sister handled it well but she was also aware that something was going on.
Telling my brother was much harder. I knew he was going to be blind-sided because he didn't have a single clue that anything was going on with me. I asked him to call me after work because I needed to talk to him really briefly. I didn't make it seem as though anything was wrong because I didn't want to worry him all day at work.
When he called, I was so nervous. I absolutely hate telling people any sort of bad or potential bad news. Not to mention, I wanted to put up the front that I was okay. That I was strong. That I wasn't scared or worried. It was so hard to fight back my tears.
I told him everything that was going on and that they were sending me to an oncologist here and I was going to be getting a scan done this week. As the conversation unfolded, I could hear him sniffle every so often. I told myself he had been doing that at the beginning of the conversation, but reality was that I didn't notice it until I told him what was going on. He mentioned he wished he would have waited to call me until he was home and not at the gym. Which only led me to further believe that he was crying. It broke my heart.
My brother is seriously one of the strongest people I know. He doesn't cry. I can count the very, very few times I've seen him cry on one hand. He's always laughing, making jokes, and keeping things light-hearted. But not today. Today, I could sense his emotions. I could feel his fear. His worry. Which only made it harder for me. For many reasons. I cannot stand to know I'm the reason people are hurting. I know this situation is not my "fault" but I am the cause of it. I'm the one causing my family so much worry and stress. I'm the one causing their tears and hurt. I know it's only because they love me. I completely understand why they feel as they do. I would if I were in their shoes. But it hurts me. So badly. I don't want to ever cause my family negative emotions.
Knowing Ben wasn't his usual happy, joking self made me more worried. He's the one I could ALWAYS count on to make light of the situation. Make it seem like it's not a big deal and it's all going to be okay. But when he can't even do that, it shows just how scared and worried he is. Which then only fuels my fear.
As with my mother, I lied to him. I told him I wasn't all that worried. Just worried to see new doctors. I made it seem like it wasn't a big deal. I wanted to save him from negative feelings. So I lied. And I feel awful.
When we got off the phone, I told him I'd keep him updated next week. As we said goodbye, he said "I love you." I told him I loved him too, hung up, and just lost it. While my siblings and I are very, VERY close, we don't say I love you to one another. I'm not really sure why though??? My parents and each of us say it ALL THE TIME. But us siblings don't. When I was battling cancer in 2006 and life was full of unknowns, we said I love you all the time. It's as if we knew that might be it. And we weren't going to let a day pass without saying it. But it stopped when I got my first clear scan. As if we realized we were "safe" so we didn't need to say it anymore. But hearing him say it again, brought me back to that time in 2006.
The hardest part of this is the feelings and emotions I know others are experiencing. I hate that they are worrying, stressed, upset, and scared. I hate having to tell them these things. I wish I could just wait and not tell anyone other than Nick. Wait until we have clear answers. And hopefully positive clear answers.
I just sit here thinking that it HAS to be good news. Because if it's not, I honestly don't know how I'd tell my family and best friends. My first thoughts aren't of me and what I'll go through or what the outcome might be. My thoughts are my loved ones and how I don't want to hurt them. Don't want to tell them anything but positive news. I can't put my family and best friends through this again. It was so hard for them last time. So hard. My little sister shouldn't have to watch her big sister suffer and fight for her life. Not just once but twice. I'm supposed to be someone she can look up to and always know I'm here for her. She can always count on me and know I'm strong; not lying in a hospital bed weak and broken and fighting. My parents most definitely shouldn't have to deal with this. Not again. Once was too many. Parents should never have to watch their children suffer. Especially with a disease like cancer. In life, you just assume your parents go before you. As parents, I think they assume that too...that they won't watch their children pass away. It's not "natural" and I don't want my parents to have to fear that again. This time would be soooo much harder because I'm here, in Florida, away from them. And the decision would need to be made on what to do, where to have treatments done.
I just can't do this again. I refuse to put my parents through that. The hardest part of it all is not anything physical I will endure. The hardest part is hurting my family with the news.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Feb 14: Not As Bad As I Thought...
Today was nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. It's 3pm and I'm still alone. But thanks to my amazing friends and family, I don't feel so alone.
My goal of staying up super late to sleep half the day away was a giant fail. The last time I saw the clock it was around 4am. And at 7:30am, I was wide awake. I laid in bed for a good hour or so just browsing through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest.
While on these sites, I was overwhelmed by the love I saw. I do truly love love. I'm not the jealous type so seeing so many posts of gifts, flowers, cards, messages, etc just makes me smile. And even though February 14th is a day I very much despise for my own reasons, I'm happy so many others can find it to be so special. Sounds corny and fake, but it really does make my day better to see so many friends and family members happy.
Because this day is all about love, my thoughts obviously go to my husband, family, and closest friends. Especially those with me on this day seven years ago. Instead of wallowing in my sadness, I decided to voice my love while I was laying in bed this morning. I contacted a few of my best friends and my siblings to just let them know I love them. To thank them. Seven years ago was the hardest day of my life. And every day since has not been a cake walk either. I struggle, I fall down, I cry, I grow weak. But because of my husband, family, and friends, I'm able to get back up. I most definitely would not be here today without them. They prayed for me. Sat with me in ICU. Visited me in the hospital for 14 days straight. They helped to take care of me. They provided laughs when I felt like I had forgotten how to smile. They were my strength when I was weak. They carried me and pushed me. When I look back on this day seven years ago, I know it was harder for my family and friends than for me. While I was "conscious" after surgery, I only have one memory. I remember waking up, in excruciating pain, and sensing an elephant in the room. I knew something was not right. And I knew what it was. I asked, "Do I have cancer?" The tears began rolling down my mother and brother's face and I was told "yes." Then nothing. No more memory. That's it. Other than pre-op earlier that day, that is my only memory of February 14, 2006.
The reason it was harder for everyone else is because of what they had to see. My poor family and best friend had to see me hooked up to all kinds of wires and machines. They had to get the news from the doctor that my tumor was malignant. Not only was it malignant, but the cells were dividing at a very rapid rate (something very bad in terms of cancer, which put me at testing highest grade.) They had to watch me scream out in pain. They had to watch me go crazy, every machine going off when I was told I had cancer. They had to watch as I was taken back in for an emergency surgery just three days after my original surgery. I honestly think this all was harder on them. It's always harder to watch a loved one suffer and know you are helpless. 100% completely and utterly helpless.
But they all remained strong. I honestly cannot recall my times at all that I saw my family or friends cry. I know they did. They've told me. But they never did it in front of me. They remained strong for me. They took turns taking off work and skipping classes, driving to St. Louis to sit with me during chemotherapy or radiation. They took care of me when my parents weren't around. They hooked me up to my feeding tube each night, cooked me meals, got me anything I needed. I am here because of them.
So instead of focusing on the negatives, when I start to cry, I think of all the love I have surrounding me. Back then and today. My support system has only grown. I cannot thank you all enough for the emails, text messages, phone calls, Facebook and Twitter comments and private messages I've received thus far. I know I'm where I am today because of the love and support I've received. So today, while it still has many horrible memories attached to it, is also filled with love for more reasons than just Valentine's Day. A love for my amazing friends and family. Thank you. You all will never truly know how much your words, prayers, and thoughts mean to me. Thank you for making this day a little easier. I just hope the rest of the day continues to go the same.
D-Day
When most people think of February 14th, they think of Valentine's Day.
That is not the case for me. On this day seven years ago, I went into the hospital to get a "benign" tumor removed from my stomach. And I woke up, missing a portion of my stomach, and learned the biopsy had been wrong.
I had cancer.
The next 9 months were the worst of my life. And the years following have not been that easy.
I cannot shake that horrible day from my memory. I will never be able to. Instead, I try to keep myself busy on this day. I've always relied on my family, friends, and Nick (from afar) to keep me happy and smiling.
The day isn't about hearts and chocolate and love to me. Those things most definitely help ease the emotional pain. But they don't erase the memory. To me, I enjoy celebrating Valentine's Day, a happy day, to forget the bad one, just for one day. If my Diagnosis Day had fallen on a random day in August, I'd do just the same thing....take this day and try to make it a fun and happy one to take my mind off what it truly means for me. Valentine's Day just makes it easier.
I'm lying here anxious. I can't sleep. I know tomorrow I have to face this day alone. Something I haven't done before. I've always had someone to distract me. But Nick has class all day. And then tomorrow night, he has to spend his night studying for an important test Friday morning. Completely understandable and he feels awful. He's already witnessed two break downs from me tonight. Crying. Scared. Shaking from anxiety.
"Celebrate a day late." That doesn't work. As I said, we aren't really celebrating Valentine's Day. That is just the perfect excuse to forget this day. But celebrating Valentine's Day on Friday does nothing for me today. It doesn't get my mind off it today when I'll be sitting all alone.
I think what is bothering me more than anything, is knowing this will become a regular thing. I knew when I got married and moved away, I was losing a huge (physical) support system. I used to know I could rely on my large extended family and a large group of friends. Now, I have only Nick. He won't always be around. There will be years he's half a world away. Some years he might not even be able to call or send an email. And I won't have my family and friends who truly understand the hardships today brings. Sure, I have friends here. But my guess is they're all spending Valentine's Day with their husbands. And those whose husbands will be deployed with Nick, I'm sure will be more than willing to spend the day together. But not because they understand what this day is for me. Merely because who wants to be alone on Valentine's Day??? So while I knew this would become a regular occurrence for me, spending today alone, it doesn't mean I was prepared for it. It doesn't make it any easier.
I know this might seem silly to some. And I've written this blog post about six times today and tonight. I've deleted it because I know so many people are rolling their eyes. "What a cry baby. Get the eff over it." People are judging me. And that's what hurts. It's not that easy. I know those thinking that truly don't understand what I went through. It can't be accurately described in words. Even my poor husband doesn't truly understand. He wasn't around then. Only those who witnessed it all, saw me lying there in the hospital, watched my year long battles throughout surgery, recovery, treatment, and the years after understand. Or those who have had to sit by a loved one and watch them go through this all understand. Nick understands a little. He sees the pain I'm currently in. Sees me in tears occasionally from pain or just simply from frustration and exhaustion of it all.
"It's just a day in the past. Move on."
It's not "just" a day.
This is the day my entire world flipped upside down. For some reason, I'm still holding out hope that one day, it'll right itself again. That I'll return to the "normal" I had seven years ago.
This day is the day I started living in fear and worry.
This is the day that causes me to hear my doctors voice "If it comes back, it will take her life" over and over again in my head.
This is the day every little ache and pain cause me to start freaking out over relapse.
This is the day I could no longer look at my body without cringing. The sight of my scars still sting my heart and make me sick to my stomach. I still tense up when Nick touches them or kisses them.
This is the day I realized eating was a stressful and frustrating task for me.
This is the day I realized I miss half of the table conversations because I need to actively concentrate on eating...on swallowing. I forgot what it's like to eat without actually thinking about every single process of it. Chewing...swallowing...breathing during it all....sitting up ridiculously straight...not drinking too much.
This is the day I had to give up on hot food and soft bread. Because after waiting for food to move down or spending long periods of time dislodging food in the bathroom, I return to cold food, or bread that's started to harden.
This is the day I became nervous to eat in a restaurant.
This is the day I became nervous to eat in front of people. Because no one understands why I visit the restroom multiple times a meal and return with a little less eye makeup and watery eyes.
This is the day I realized I will spend more time with my head in the toilet, dislodging food, than actually at the table eating the food.
This is the day I became embarrassed of my body's new way of handling eating.
This day, early that morning, was the last day I had a 100% pain free day. Since this day 7 years ago, I cannot honestly say I haven't had a pain free day.
This is the day that I had to sleep in discomfort every night. Choosing my poison...to sleep sitting up at a 45 degree angle or sleep lying down knowing my acid will hang out in my esophagus all night causing me so much pain. Both of which produce very little sleep.
This is the day I had to start worrying my greatest fear might come true...that I might be infertile.
This is the day I became broken. Emotionally and physically.
I know this day has been made worse because of recent events. Without too many details, things have not been right with my body. A few worrisome symptoms have presented themselves in the past few weeks. None that immediately point to cancer. But today I finally visited a doctor. I'm waiting on lab results. That is weighing, heavily, on my mind. I won't get my results until early next week so I'm playing the waiting game. I'm trying to remain calm and tell myself it's nothing. I am not feeling any bumps. My physical exam checked out great. But then again, seven years ago, on January 6, 2006, I checked out fine, physically. Only when my labs came back did they indicate something was very wrong and I was immediately told to head to a hospital to be admitted. And that started the entire horrible journey. I just can't seem to shake that memory. Especially with what tomorrow brings.
{I realize my recent symptoms and doctors appointment this morning is news to most people. Realistically, only Nick and my mother knew I had anything going on. I was too scared to mention it to anyone else. Afraid if I voiced concern, I'd only jinx it and cause it to become something serious. I put it off for far too long out of fear. And fear is what kept me from mentioning anything. So I'd appreciate some prayers now that I've put it out there.}
I just keep thinking, "I can't do that again." I know everyone thinks I'm so strong. And I am. Most the time. But right now, I'm weak. I'm beyond weak. I'm embarrassed to admit it but it's true. And I promised to always be 100% honest in my blog. I feel so shattered and more broken than ever. I just want my results to come back tomorrow morning and know everything is okay. I don't want to wait a week for results. I don't want to spend the day alone. I want to smile and be entertained. I want to have something that prevents me from thinking about what tomorrow means.
I wish I was the cancer patient who was diagnosed, treated, in remission and done. Nothing more than simple scans. I feel my life would be easier. But for me, I have so many complications that are constant reminders.
Every time I eat and my head is in a toilet...I'm reminded.
Every time I sit at the table in discomfort as my esophagus is trying to decide if it will open to allow food down, if it push my food down or just let gravity take it, or if it bring it back up...I'm reminded.
Every second of every day when my esophagus and throat are in pain from acid reflux...I'm reminded.
Every pill I pop each day....I'm reminded.
Every cough, sneeze, and hiccup...I'm reminded.
Every procedure...I'm reminded.
I long for a life where my only reminder are the scars left on my body and the one simple office visit following a scan once a year.
I'm jealous of my friends and fellow cancer bloggers who live these "easy" life-after-cancer lives. I long for that.
I'm really hoping tomorrow isn't as bad as I'm thinking it will be. Do you ever feel like sometimes the days leading up to the horrible day are the worst part??? I know that's true for my scans and procedures. Especially the night before. Like right now. My hope is that tomorrow when I wake up, it won't be as bad as my mind is thinking it will be. I'm sure my day will consist of lots of phone calls to my mommy. And I know she'll welcome them because this day isn't easy for her either. Sometimes, I think this is all harder on her than me. It's harder to watch loved ones suffer than to actually do the suffering. And I can't imagine when it's your own child. And now knowing that child is states away, hurting, sick, scared, and anxious. I'm sorry, Mom.
It's 2:35am and I should really go to bed. I'm not tired from anxiousness. But I'm only putting off sleep. The longer the stay up, the later I'll sleep tomorrow, which means the more of tomorrow I'll miss.
I've spent the night baking Nick his favorite cake, writing him a little love letter, signing the cards from the dogs, cleaning, and now blogging. I'm out of things to keep me awake.
Luckily, after Friday afternoon, my mind and time will be occupied until I get my results. Nick is free after Friday afternoon. We're heading to Alabama to spend the three day weekend with my sister and Kyle so I'm pretty pumped. I haven't seen my sister since Christmas back in St. Louis and I miss her and Kyle. Thankfully, I'll only have to wait one night and a wake up to get my results after that.
Thanks for listening to my rambling. Thanks for all the prayers and support.
And if you're judging me, I truly hope you never experience a hardship that leaves strong and long-lasting emotional scars on your body.
Until you've walked in someone's shoes, you really shouldn't judge their emotions. I've learned this the hard way.
Goodnight followers. Happy Valentine's Day to all of you that have no reason to dislike February 14th. I LOVE love and love seeing my friends and family happy, so I hope you have a great day filled with wonderful memories and long lasting friendships and love!
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
6 Years Remission
Today marks 6 years of remission for me. {Some call it a Life-aversary, meaning they were given their second chance at life because it really does change you and your outlook on life. Others call it a Remission-versary or just Remission Anniversary. I'm sure there are other names. I usually just stick with Remission Anniversary.}
Six years ago today, I received my first clear scan. It's the moment I knew I was truly "cancer-free".
Some people count their remission from the date the tumor was removed. For me, the date my tumor was removed did not mean good news. It was an awful day. It was day we went from what we thought was a benign tumor, to a very bad, malignant tumor. The day our lives flipped upside down. The first day of the most grueling and horrible year of my life. It was then that we learned my tumor had tested highest grade, meaning the cells were dividing at a very rapid rate. This led my doctors to believe that the cancer cells had already entered my blood stream. They feared they were floating throughout my body, just looking for a place to attach and begin growing again. Because there was a strong chance I had cancer cells in my blood stream, I do not count that as remission or "cancer free".
Other count their remission starting on the date of their last treatment. Again, I didn't feel safe doing this. There are plenty of cases where the treatment doesn't work and the cancer is not completely gone from the body. I felt if I told myself I was "cancer free", I might be jinxing my body.
Therefore, I waited until a little over a month after my last chemotherapy treatment to start saying I was in remission. And that was November 20, 2006. That's the day I KNEW I was "cancer free".
Why do I keep putting "..." around the words "cancer free". Well, honestly, because no doctor will ever call you cancer free. They can never know that. They will never know if a teeny tiny cancer cell is in your body somewhere. Instead, doctors will say NED, "No Evidence of Disease." This covers their butt but also makes you realize that's all we can really say. All doctors can tell you is that with the testing done to you (scans, x-rays, blood work, etc) all of it shows that there is no evidence of cancer in your body. All tests came back negative and margins were clean.
Some people ask me if I'm "cured". With some cancers, once you reach a certain number of years with no recurrence, doctors will considered you cured. Unfortunately for me, my cancer is too rare and aggressive that they will never consider me "cured". I will always just be in remission. Either way, as long as I have no signs of cancer, I'm okay! Call it whatever the heck you want to call it, I'm "cancer free" in my eyes!!! I just don't focus on all the negative associated with my cancer such as the "oh you will never be cured!" I don't care if I'm never "cured" as long as it never comes back!
To some, it might seem silly that I still want to "celebrate" this anniversary. But to those people, they truly don't understand my cancer and all I went through. My cancer is very rare and it's severe. The odds most definitely weren't in my favor. On my third year in remission, a doctor even admitted they didn't expect to see me sitting there, having beat the odds. (Comforting, right?)
To me, this is worth celebrating! I mean, we celebrate birthdays and I didn't do a damn thing on that day. (Mothers should be celebrated...they're the ones going through the hard work!) So if I can celebrate my birthday where I didn't do anything, then I sure as hell can celebrate a day that I worked very hard for. I went through hell and back, emotionally and most definitely physically, so I think I deserve to celebrate! It's a day where I reflect where I was, what I went through. And when I reflect on that, I KNOW this day is worth celebrating. Every single year.
There are far too many people whom I sure wish their lived ones were here to celebrate these days. They weren't fortunate enough to win their battle and celebrate their life each year. I am fortunate to have a story of triumph. And I will celebrate.
It's been six years since my first clear scan. And about six and a half years since my hell. I still have very strong emotions when those memories come flooding back. {When I allow those memories to fully come back.}
There's no rule book for this. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel now.
Closure? No, not really.
Relief? Sure, for the most part. (Until I'm sick, in pain, or have a scan or doctor appointment coming up.)
Gratitude? Most certainly!
Appreciation? Absolutely. I wouldn't be here without my family, friends, doctors, and nurses.
Blessed? More than I could express.
So here's to today! A mix of good and bad emotions, but mainly good ones! Here's to a day worth celebrating!!!! Here's to the past 6 years, while not easy, they were and are "cancer free". Here's to a lifetime more of years to celebrate!!!
Six years ago today, I received my first clear scan. It's the moment I knew I was truly "cancer-free".
Some people count their remission from the date the tumor was removed. For me, the date my tumor was removed did not mean good news. It was an awful day. It was day we went from what we thought was a benign tumor, to a very bad, malignant tumor. The day our lives flipped upside down. The first day of the most grueling and horrible year of my life. It was then that we learned my tumor had tested highest grade, meaning the cells were dividing at a very rapid rate. This led my doctors to believe that the cancer cells had already entered my blood stream. They feared they were floating throughout my body, just looking for a place to attach and begin growing again. Because there was a strong chance I had cancer cells in my blood stream, I do not count that as remission or "cancer free".
Other count their remission starting on the date of their last treatment. Again, I didn't feel safe doing this. There are plenty of cases where the treatment doesn't work and the cancer is not completely gone from the body. I felt if I told myself I was "cancer free", I might be jinxing my body.
Therefore, I waited until a little over a month after my last chemotherapy treatment to start saying I was in remission. And that was November 20, 2006. That's the day I KNEW I was "cancer free".
Why do I keep putting "..." around the words "cancer free". Well, honestly, because no doctor will ever call you cancer free. They can never know that. They will never know if a teeny tiny cancer cell is in your body somewhere. Instead, doctors will say NED, "No Evidence of Disease." This covers their butt but also makes you realize that's all we can really say. All doctors can tell you is that with the testing done to you (scans, x-rays, blood work, etc) all of it shows that there is no evidence of cancer in your body. All tests came back negative and margins were clean.
Some people ask me if I'm "cured". With some cancers, once you reach a certain number of years with no recurrence, doctors will considered you cured. Unfortunately for me, my cancer is too rare and aggressive that they will never consider me "cured". I will always just be in remission. Either way, as long as I have no signs of cancer, I'm okay! Call it whatever the heck you want to call it, I'm "cancer free" in my eyes!!! I just don't focus on all the negative associated with my cancer such as the "oh you will never be cured!" I don't care if I'm never "cured" as long as it never comes back!
To some, it might seem silly that I still want to "celebrate" this anniversary. But to those people, they truly don't understand my cancer and all I went through. My cancer is very rare and it's severe. The odds most definitely weren't in my favor. On my third year in remission, a doctor even admitted they didn't expect to see me sitting there, having beat the odds. (Comforting, right?)
To me, this is worth celebrating! I mean, we celebrate birthdays and I didn't do a damn thing on that day. (Mothers should be celebrated...they're the ones going through the hard work!) So if I can celebrate my birthday where I didn't do anything, then I sure as hell can celebrate a day that I worked very hard for. I went through hell and back, emotionally and most definitely physically, so I think I deserve to celebrate! It's a day where I reflect where I was, what I went through. And when I reflect on that, I KNOW this day is worth celebrating. Every single year.
There are far too many people whom I sure wish their lived ones were here to celebrate these days. They weren't fortunate enough to win their battle and celebrate their life each year. I am fortunate to have a story of triumph. And I will celebrate.
It's been six years since my first clear scan. And about six and a half years since my hell. I still have very strong emotions when those memories come flooding back. {When I allow those memories to fully come back.}
There's no rule book for this. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel now.
Closure? No, not really.
Relief? Sure, for the most part. (Until I'm sick, in pain, or have a scan or doctor appointment coming up.)
Gratitude? Most certainly!
Appreciation? Absolutely. I wouldn't be here without my family, friends, doctors, and nurses.
Blessed? More than I could express.
So here's to today! A mix of good and bad emotions, but mainly good ones! Here's to a day worth celebrating!!!! Here's to the past 6 years, while not easy, they were and are "cancer free". Here's to a lifetime more of years to celebrate!!!
Saturday, April 28, 2012
My History with Relay for Life
Last night Nick attended Relay for Life here in Milton, Florida.
But before I get into that, I want to tell you a little about Relay for Life and about my history and involvement in Relay.
Story of Relay for Life:
For those that don't know, Relay for Life is an fundraising event through the American Cancer Society. It is the most successful nonprofit fundraising event in the world!
It's an over-night event where teams of people set up a "campsite" around a track and walk laps around the track.
The months leading up to Relay for Life, teams participate in their own fundraising events to raise money. On the night of Relay, teams create additional ways to raise amongst other participants or the community that comes out for the event. Some sell baked goods, have activities for kids for a cheap price, sell t-shirts, jewelry, koozies, etc. Some teams have silent auctions on gift baskets or raffles for baskets. Some think of other creative ideas such as paying $2 to be pushed in a wheel-barrel for one lap. The possibilities are endless. The goal is to raise as much money as possible.
The night begins with the Survivors. They start the event with a Survivor Lap. Everyone else gathers around the track and claps and cheers them on. Following their lap, the rest of the participants join them in walking laps.
The point is for at least one member of each team to be walking at all times (hence the Relay part). (The exception is during the Luminaria Ceremony.)
Once night sets in, they hold a Luminaria service. You can purchase Luminarias "In Honor" or "In Memory" of someone. All the lights are turned off. The only light seen is the candle from inside each luminaria. A few stories or poems are read and then the names on every Luminaria are read. It's a very powerful and emotional part of the night.
There is also a Fight Back Ceremony. Someone usually speaks about the importance of fighting back and everyone is encouraged to make a personal commitment to fight back. It can be as simple as encouraging a family member to get a colon cancer screening or a mammogram. Making a vow to stop smoking. Engaging in more fundraising and advocating to help bring awareness to others. Anything.
Throughout the night, Relay for Life committee members keep things entertaining and busy. There are various fun events....Scavenger Hunts, Miss Relay (drag show), BINGO, obstacle course, games, bands playing, etc. Local businesses donate food so there is periodically free pizza, soda, ice cream, donuts, etc throughout the night.
It really is an amazing event. So fun and so powerful.
My Story:
I participated in my first Relay in April 2004, my freshman year of college. I joined a team with some co-workers of mine. At that time, cancer had not personally affected my life. (My paternal grandfather died of cancer before I was born. My paternal grandmother had it, but it's not what took her life. I don't even really remember her having it.) I simply had a passion for helping people. After this first one, I was so moved and knew Relay was something I wanted to continue to do each year.
The following year, I again joined a team with those same co-workers.
Sitting there, listening to the stories, crying because my heart ached for those affected by this horrible disease, I never, in a million years, would guess that cancer would soon rear it's ugly head in my life.
I never thought this awful disease would so closely affect me.
Just 9 months after that 2005 Relay, I heard the three most terrifying words. "You have cancer."
I couldn't wrap my brain around it. I had cancer? But I was 21! I participated in Relay and cheered on Survivors during their Survivor Lap. But they were all old! How could this happen to me? There had to be a mistake.
I cried. And cried. I kept repeating in my head "I don't want to die." I wasn't ready for this. How can one be ready for this? Didn't matter. Cancer didn't give a crap if you were ready for not.
The next few months moved by slowly. Painfully. I wanted to give up at times. Actually fought to give up.
Thank goodness for my mother. She fought to keep me smiling and positive. She refused to let me give up. She wouldn't agree to my demands of just letting me die. Yes, the rest of my family and friends fought for me too. But my mother...she took care of me. Emotionally and physically. She changed my dressings. Forced me to eat. Took me to and from appointments, radiation, chemotherapy. She took off who knows how many weeks of work. She struggled. I know she did. I know she wished more than anything she could take my pain during recovery from surgery. Yet she always appeared so composed and positive. But I knew she wasn't. What mother would be? I know she was struggling on the inside. She told me once "A mother shouldn't have to watch her kids deal with this. This is an old person's disease." I know she feared for my life. We all knew the severity of my cancer. We all knew the odds weren't in my favor. No one spoke of it but it was the elephant in the room. At all times. Sitting right there next to me.
2006
In April 2006, my brother told me that he and my sister (both living in Columbia...where my college was...where I was living before this all happened) along with my two best friends, Jessie and Candace, had created a team in my honor. Melzie's Warriors.
It was thrown together quickly considering I was diagnosed in mid-February and Relay is at the beginning of April.
I wanted to attend. We asked my surgeon and he said it was okay.
We made the 2 hour drive to Columbia (which was a painful ride with all the bumps). This was the first time I would be out of the house for something other than a doctor appointment. I was still in a lot of pain. I walked slowly. While I was now allowed to use my abdomen (after 12 weeks of no use and bedrest) moving around was still difficult.
I still had a feeding tube that I was to be hooked up to and "fed" for 10-12 hours a night.
But I was determined to be there.
And I was. It was a very emotional night. I cried a lot. We all cried a lot. The Luminaria Ceremony was too much. Hearing my name read was just too much. "In Honor of Melanie Dickens." We all lost it. It was then, that cancer started to really set in and become a reality for me. I knew I had cancer...but I didn't FEEL like it. I just felt like I had surgery and was recovering. Which is all that had happened at this point. Radiation was next on my list, followed by chemo, but that hadn't occurred yet.
I couldn't help but wonder if my treatment would work. Would I be in attendance next year? Or will they be reading "In Memory of Melanie Dickens." It was a thought I couldn't shake. At that very moment, there were too many unknowns. While my tumor was gone, I cancer cells floating around in my bloodstream...just trying to find a place to attach. My fate was unknown. And that scared me beyond words.
Anyway....Our team was so successful! We had a football signed by the Mizzou quarterback that was raffled off. We were very close with the members of the football team since we lived in the dorms with them our freshman year. They were all like big brothers to us. They came and we had a "Pie a Mizzou Football Player in the Face." The little kids loved it! Not only because it was fun, but because to them, these football players are celebrities!!! I cannot thank them enough for doing that, especially because it was so cold!!!!
We had such a great turn out. So many of our football player friends came. So many of my co-workers came. All my friends were there. My brothers' friends. It was truly amazing to see the support I had from everyone.
I lasted until about 1am. I couldn't do it anymore. I was shivering and my feeding tube hurt. I said goodbye and my mother and I headed back to my house. Upon returning home, we removed the dressing to clean and redress the feeding tube. It had started to pus and become infected. Despite how much pain and discomfort I was in, I felt truly blessed for the amazing people in my life.
2007
In 2007, I was back at school and became a Team Captain of Melzie's Warriors along with my 3 best friends. That year, we had the largest team with over 50 people signed up! We were voted the best campsite (done as a Mario Theme with matching t-shirts) and were even on the News! We raised the 2nd highest amount of money (behind a professor who had a lot of corporate sponsors lol). It was great to back to 100% involvement in Relay. To know I was here as a SURVIVOR! I had since received my first clear scan. I had kicked some cancer ass!
2008
2008 was my last year participating in Mizzou's Relay as a student. I was graduating just one month after Relay. But this was the BEST year! I, along with my best friends, were on the Steering Committee for Relay. It was amazing to work all year long from the inside. Laying the ground work. Getting sponsors and businesses to donate. Along with being on the Committee, we were also Team Captains for Melzie's Warriors again. It was great to watch Relay and know we were an intricate part to making it all work!
This year, my mother and I were asked to cut the ribbon to begin the Survivor Lap. I was also interviewed on the local News about my story.
My mother spoke at the Fight Back Ceremony about her role as my Caregiver. I HIGHLY recommend watching her speech! She is not a public speaker and pretty introverted so this was a HUGE deal. And she did AWESOME!!! (I stood up with her for support...I knew she'd cry and need a hug to keep going.)
To watch it, CLICK HERE!
My grandparents also came up for this event!!!! Along with a few other family members and some friends who did not go Mizzou but traveled up for this event. It was just an amazing year to be SO involved!
AND Nick was able to come to this event!!!! I wasn't expecting them to approve his chit (special leave request) because he was just a plebe and well, I didn't think they'd see this as a big event. Not to mention he was coming home again just a month after for my college graduation but they allowed him to!!! WOOHOO!!
2009
In 2009, we ventured back to Columbia (my brother and cousin were still living there) and continued Melzie's Warriors. It was quite a change. I didn't feel as close to this Relay since I was no longer a student. And we didn't have a great turn out. It's as if I was two and a half years in remission and therefore I was "safe". A lot of friends lost interest in Relay. None made the effort to sacrifice their weekend to participate or help raise money. It was really upsetting. I was in remission because of people like Relayers who raise money for research and awareness. I wanted to keep this going. To pay it forward to others who would need the same care and support I needed. I'm thankful my family was still so passionate about Relay. But then again, it did affect and touch us the most.
2010
In 2010, we again traveled back to Columbia for Relay. Our team was thankfully larger this year compared to the previous year. My aunt and uncle came up for it. Nick was on Spring Break leave so he was able to be there. Unfortunately, one my brother's great friends, Rob, was affected by cancer. His sister was diagnosed and her struggle was not looking good. Rob, along with his niece and nephew (their mother is the one battling cancer) came from Kansas City to participate and walk in her honor. I'm so glad we were able to share this experience with them. Hopefully her children will continue to participate in Relays for years to come.
2011
Sadly, I did not participate in Relay for Life in 2011. That year was so crazy with Nick's Commissioning Week approaching in mid-May, then our wedding just two weeks later! We seriously considered it but knew we couldn't devote the time and effort to fundraising with all the wedding preparations we had to do. And it really upset me.
But it might have been for the best. It was upsetting that so many friends lost interest. No one wanted to put forth the effort to raise money and head up the team. No one wanted to take time out of their schedules and give up one weekend to do this. It was very upsetting. I wish I could get people to be just as involved as they once were. But like most things, it's easier to be involved when it's currently affecting you. Cancer didn't seem prominent in their life. And probably in mine. But it was. Very much so. Only my close family and friends knew how much it still affected me.
Yes, I was in remission. But sadly, cancer has created a lot of complications in my life. Eating is a difficult task. I have a heart condition from chemotherapy. And the list goes on. There are so many things that have changed and will never be the same. So many things I'm still dealing with. Cancer, while not the cells or tumors, are still very present in my life. I keep quiet about it most of the time. It's only those living with me that really see how much it still affects me. There's no point in whining daily about how much pain or discomfort I'm in or how upset I am. Positivity!!! That's the key!
2012
This year, 2012, I told Nick I wanted to participate. I knew we wouldn't have a Melzie's Warriors, but I wanted to participate in the Survivor Lap and walk around and donate some money. And that's exactly what we did. It was very emotional. I had to leave the Survivor Ceremony. It was...different. But that's a post for another day. So check back, hopefully tomorrow for more on last night's Relay.
But before I get into that, I want to tell you a little about Relay for Life and about my history and involvement in Relay.
Story of Relay for Life:
For those that don't know, Relay for Life is an fundraising event through the American Cancer Society. It is the most successful nonprofit fundraising event in the world!
It's an over-night event where teams of people set up a "campsite" around a track and walk laps around the track.
The months leading up to Relay for Life, teams participate in their own fundraising events to raise money. On the night of Relay, teams create additional ways to raise amongst other participants or the community that comes out for the event. Some sell baked goods, have activities for kids for a cheap price, sell t-shirts, jewelry, koozies, etc. Some teams have silent auctions on gift baskets or raffles for baskets. Some think of other creative ideas such as paying $2 to be pushed in a wheel-barrel for one lap. The possibilities are endless. The goal is to raise as much money as possible.
The night begins with the Survivors. They start the event with a Survivor Lap. Everyone else gathers around the track and claps and cheers them on. Following their lap, the rest of the participants join them in walking laps.
The point is for at least one member of each team to be walking at all times (hence the Relay part). (The exception is during the Luminaria Ceremony.)
Once night sets in, they hold a Luminaria service. You can purchase Luminarias "In Honor" or "In Memory" of someone. All the lights are turned off. The only light seen is the candle from inside each luminaria. A few stories or poems are read and then the names on every Luminaria are read. It's a very powerful and emotional part of the night.
There is also a Fight Back Ceremony. Someone usually speaks about the importance of fighting back and everyone is encouraged to make a personal commitment to fight back. It can be as simple as encouraging a family member to get a colon cancer screening or a mammogram. Making a vow to stop smoking. Engaging in more fundraising and advocating to help bring awareness to others. Anything.
Throughout the night, Relay for Life committee members keep things entertaining and busy. There are various fun events....Scavenger Hunts, Miss Relay (drag show), BINGO, obstacle course, games, bands playing, etc. Local businesses donate food so there is periodically free pizza, soda, ice cream, donuts, etc throughout the night.
It really is an amazing event. So fun and so powerful.
My Story:
I participated in my first Relay in April 2004, my freshman year of college. I joined a team with some co-workers of mine. At that time, cancer had not personally affected my life. (My paternal grandfather died of cancer before I was born. My paternal grandmother had it, but it's not what took her life. I don't even really remember her having it.) I simply had a passion for helping people. After this first one, I was so moved and knew Relay was something I wanted to continue to do each year.
The following year, I again joined a team with those same co-workers.
Sitting there, listening to the stories, crying because my heart ached for those affected by this horrible disease, I never, in a million years, would guess that cancer would soon rear it's ugly head in my life.
I never thought this awful disease would so closely affect me.
Just 9 months after that 2005 Relay, I heard the three most terrifying words. "You have cancer."
I couldn't wrap my brain around it. I had cancer? But I was 21! I participated in Relay and cheered on Survivors during their Survivor Lap. But they were all old! How could this happen to me? There had to be a mistake.
I cried. And cried. I kept repeating in my head "I don't want to die." I wasn't ready for this. How can one be ready for this? Didn't matter. Cancer didn't give a crap if you were ready for not.
The next few months moved by slowly. Painfully. I wanted to give up at times. Actually fought to give up.
Thank goodness for my mother. She fought to keep me smiling and positive. She refused to let me give up. She wouldn't agree to my demands of just letting me die. Yes, the rest of my family and friends fought for me too. But my mother...she took care of me. Emotionally and physically. She changed my dressings. Forced me to eat. Took me to and from appointments, radiation, chemotherapy. She took off who knows how many weeks of work. She struggled. I know she did. I know she wished more than anything she could take my pain during recovery from surgery. Yet she always appeared so composed and positive. But I knew she wasn't. What mother would be? I know she was struggling on the inside. She told me once "A mother shouldn't have to watch her kids deal with this. This is an old person's disease." I know she feared for my life. We all knew the severity of my cancer. We all knew the odds weren't in my favor. No one spoke of it but it was the elephant in the room. At all times. Sitting right there next to me.
2006
In April 2006, my brother told me that he and my sister (both living in Columbia...where my college was...where I was living before this all happened) along with my two best friends, Jessie and Candace, had created a team in my honor. Melzie's Warriors.
It was thrown together quickly considering I was diagnosed in mid-February and Relay is at the beginning of April.
I wanted to attend. We asked my surgeon and he said it was okay.
We made the 2 hour drive to Columbia (which was a painful ride with all the bumps). This was the first time I would be out of the house for something other than a doctor appointment. I was still in a lot of pain. I walked slowly. While I was now allowed to use my abdomen (after 12 weeks of no use and bedrest) moving around was still difficult.
I still had a feeding tube that I was to be hooked up to and "fed" for 10-12 hours a night.
But I was determined to be there.
And I was. It was a very emotional night. I cried a lot. We all cried a lot. The Luminaria Ceremony was too much. Hearing my name read was just too much. "In Honor of Melanie Dickens." We all lost it. It was then, that cancer started to really set in and become a reality for me. I knew I had cancer...but I didn't FEEL like it. I just felt like I had surgery and was recovering. Which is all that had happened at this point. Radiation was next on my list, followed by chemo, but that hadn't occurred yet.
I couldn't help but wonder if my treatment would work. Would I be in attendance next year? Or will they be reading "In Memory of Melanie Dickens." It was a thought I couldn't shake. At that very moment, there were too many unknowns. While my tumor was gone, I cancer cells floating around in my bloodstream...just trying to find a place to attach. My fate was unknown. And that scared me beyond words.
Anyway....Our team was so successful! We had a football signed by the Mizzou quarterback that was raffled off. We were very close with the members of the football team since we lived in the dorms with them our freshman year. They were all like big brothers to us. They came and we had a "Pie a Mizzou Football Player in the Face." The little kids loved it! Not only because it was fun, but because to them, these football players are celebrities!!! I cannot thank them enough for doing that, especially because it was so cold!!!!
We had such a great turn out. So many of our football player friends came. So many of my co-workers came. All my friends were there. My brothers' friends. It was truly amazing to see the support I had from everyone.
I lasted until about 1am. I couldn't do it anymore. I was shivering and my feeding tube hurt. I said goodbye and my mother and I headed back to my house. Upon returning home, we removed the dressing to clean and redress the feeding tube. It had started to pus and become infected. Despite how much pain and discomfort I was in, I felt truly blessed for the amazing people in my life.
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| Relay for Life 2006 My Family (Dad couldn't get off work) |
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| Relay for Life 2006 Some of my co-workers |
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| Relay for Life 2006 Brad Eckwereku (Mizzou football player) |
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| Relay for Life 2006 Greg Bracey (Mizzou football player) and a great friend |
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| Relay for Life 2006 My best friend, Jessie |
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| Relay for Life 2006 Brad being pied |
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| Relay for Life 2006 Matt, a co-worker, getting ready for Miss Relay |
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| Relay for Life 2006 Luminaria Ceremony |
2007
In 2007, I was back at school and became a Team Captain of Melzie's Warriors along with my 3 best friends. That year, we had the largest team with over 50 people signed up! We were voted the best campsite (done as a Mario Theme with matching t-shirts) and were even on the News! We raised the 2nd highest amount of money (behind a professor who had a lot of corporate sponsors lol). It was great to back to 100% involvement in Relay. To know I was here as a SURVIVOR! I had since received my first clear scan. I had kicked some cancer ass!
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| Relay for Life 2007 My Mother, (my Caregiver), and I walking in the Survivor Lap And yes, she's crying |
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| Relay for Life 2007 Our Mario-Themed Campsite |
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| Relay for Life 2007 Our Mario-Themed Campsite |
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| Relay for Life 2007 Our Mario-Themed Campsite |
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| Relay for Life 2007 My brothers and friends |
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| Relay for Life 2007 My best friend, Jessie (who took care of me during chemo!) |
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| Relay for Life 2007 Displaying one of my Luminarias |
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| Relay for Life 2007 My Luminarias |
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| Relay for Life 2007 Local News getting set-up |
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| Relay for Life 2007 Matt, second year in a row, participating in Miss Relay |
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| Relay for Life 2007 Just part of Melzie's Warriors =) |
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| Relay for Life 2007 My Best Friends |
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| Relay for Life 2007 Bracey returned again =) |
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| Relay for Life 2007 Spent a lot of time racing each other in here! |
2008
2008 was my last year participating in Mizzou's Relay as a student. I was graduating just one month after Relay. But this was the BEST year! I, along with my best friends, were on the Steering Committee for Relay. It was amazing to work all year long from the inside. Laying the ground work. Getting sponsors and businesses to donate. Along with being on the Committee, we were also Team Captains for Melzie's Warriors again. It was great to watch Relay and know we were an intricate part to making it all work!
This year, my mother and I were asked to cut the ribbon to begin the Survivor Lap. I was also interviewed on the local News about my story.
My mother spoke at the Fight Back Ceremony about her role as my Caregiver. I HIGHLY recommend watching her speech! She is not a public speaker and pretty introverted so this was a HUGE deal. And she did AWESOME!!! (I stood up with her for support...I knew she'd cry and need a hug to keep going.)
To watch it, CLICK HERE!
My grandparents also came up for this event!!!! Along with a few other family members and some friends who did not go Mizzou but traveled up for this event. It was just an amazing year to be SO involved!
AND Nick was able to come to this event!!!! I wasn't expecting them to approve his chit (special leave request) because he was just a plebe and well, I didn't think they'd see this as a big event. Not to mention he was coming home again just a month after for my college graduation but they allowed him to!!! WOOHOO!!
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| Relay for Life 2008 Mic on and ready for my interview! |
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| Relay for Life 2008Mom and I |
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| Relay for Life 2008Cutting the Ribbon to Begin the Survivor Lap |
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| Relay for Life 2008Leading the Survivors in the Survivor Lap |
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| Relay for Life 2008 My brothers |
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| Relay for Life 2008With my Love |
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| Relay for Life 2008Part of Melzie's Warriors |
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| Relay for Life 2008My Besties and College Roomies |
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| Relay for Life 2008Mom and her kids |
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| Relay for Life 2008 With my Grandparents |
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| Relay for Life 2008Grandparents & some of the Grandkids |
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| Relay for Life 2008Part of our team during the Luminaria Ceremony |
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| Relay for Life 2008We had to move inside because it was sleeting/freezing rain and only 25 degrees |
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| Relay for Life 2008Candace and Josh |
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| Relay for Life 2008Shawn won Miss Relay!!! ("winner" is who collects the most money pending their "performance") |
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| Relay for Life 2008With my other brother, Josh |
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| Relay for Life 2008More of Melzie's Warriors |
2009
In 2009, we ventured back to Columbia (my brother and cousin were still living there) and continued Melzie's Warriors. It was quite a change. I didn't feel as close to this Relay since I was no longer a student. And we didn't have a great turn out. It's as if I was two and a half years in remission and therefore I was "safe". A lot of friends lost interest in Relay. None made the effort to sacrifice their weekend to participate or help raise money. It was really upsetting. I was in remission because of people like Relayers who raise money for research and awareness. I wanted to keep this going. To pay it forward to others who would need the same care and support I needed. I'm thankful my family was still so passionate about Relay. But then again, it did affect and touch us the most.
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| Relay for Life 2009 My Family (minus Daddy again) |
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| Relay for Life 2009 My Siblings and I |
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| Relay for Life 2009Siblings and Cousin giving a big 'eff you' to cancer |
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| Relay for Life 2009Mom and I |
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| Relay for Life 2009Best Friend, Julie |
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| Relay for Life 2009My Luminaria |
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| Relay for Life 2009Luminarias lining the track |
2010
In 2010, we again traveled back to Columbia for Relay. Our team was thankfully larger this year compared to the previous year. My aunt and uncle came up for it. Nick was on Spring Break leave so he was able to be there. Unfortunately, one my brother's great friends, Rob, was affected by cancer. His sister was diagnosed and her struggle was not looking good. Rob, along with his niece and nephew (their mother is the one battling cancer) came from Kansas City to participate and walk in her honor. I'm so glad we were able to share this experience with them. Hopefully her children will continue to participate in Relays for years to come.
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| Relay for Life 2010 Mom & I walking in the Survivor Lap |
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| Relay for Life 2010 Some of Melzie's Warriors cheering us on during the Survivor Lap |
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| Relay for Life 2010 Mizzou representing! |
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| Relay for Life 2010 My Mother and I |
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| Relay for Life 2010 Some of my family <3 |
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| Relay for Life 2010 Rob with his niece and nephew |
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| Relay for Life 2010 My Siblings and I |
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| Relay for Life 2010 Rob & Ben Sumo Wrestling |
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| Relay for Life 2010 Nicholas & I |
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| Relay for Life 2010 Walking laps |
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| Relay for Life 2010 Walking Laps with my Love |
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| Relay for Life 2010 My Grandparents (I never met my Grandfather =( ) |
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| Relay for Life 2010 My Luminaria |
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| Relay for Life 2010 With my brothers |
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| Relay for Life 2010 During the Luminaria Ceremony |
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| Relay for Life 2010 My Luminaria |
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| Relay for Life 2010 During the Luminaria Ceremony |
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| Relay for Life 2010 My sister and I snoozing around 4am |
2011
Sadly, I did not participate in Relay for Life in 2011. That year was so crazy with Nick's Commissioning Week approaching in mid-May, then our wedding just two weeks later! We seriously considered it but knew we couldn't devote the time and effort to fundraising with all the wedding preparations we had to do. And it really upset me.
But it might have been for the best. It was upsetting that so many friends lost interest. No one wanted to put forth the effort to raise money and head up the team. No one wanted to take time out of their schedules and give up one weekend to do this. It was very upsetting. I wish I could get people to be just as involved as they once were. But like most things, it's easier to be involved when it's currently affecting you. Cancer didn't seem prominent in their life. And probably in mine. But it was. Very much so. Only my close family and friends knew how much it still affected me.
Yes, I was in remission. But sadly, cancer has created a lot of complications in my life. Eating is a difficult task. I have a heart condition from chemotherapy. And the list goes on. There are so many things that have changed and will never be the same. So many things I'm still dealing with. Cancer, while not the cells or tumors, are still very present in my life. I keep quiet about it most of the time. It's only those living with me that really see how much it still affects me. There's no point in whining daily about how much pain or discomfort I'm in or how upset I am. Positivity!!! That's the key!
2012
This year, 2012, I told Nick I wanted to participate. I knew we wouldn't have a Melzie's Warriors, but I wanted to participate in the Survivor Lap and walk around and donate some money. And that's exactly what we did. It was very emotional. I had to leave the Survivor Ceremony. It was...different. But that's a post for another day. So check back, hopefully tomorrow for more on last night's Relay.
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