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FORT WAYNE, INDIANA - I always assume I will meet cancer patients with amazing stories wherever I go. I'm never disappointed.)

Today's story comes from the Vera Bradley Outlet Sale. Pictured behind these lovely ladies is a one-of-a-kind quilt created with Vera Bradley's Tea Garden pattern; I was there admiring the workmanship of that stunning quilt when I saw the lady with the hat.

She had taken it off in an out of the way location, clearly to be discreet. And me being, well ... me, I walked right over and said: "I totally understand. Nothing worse than how hot you get during chemo. Then to have to wear hats; makes it even worse!"

She laughed, took the hat off with a bold flourish an we had a great conversation. Her daughter, pictured to her right, decided that her mama would NOT go through this alone. She has shaved her head in solidarity during her mama's journey.

Now I'm off to Las Vegas for the "A Colorful Day". Can't wait to tell you who I meet there!

History

CAIRO, EGYPT -  Oh my goodness, I thought I was old. (Ha!). Scientists have found a mummy in Egypt that has evidence of cancer. He is 2,200 years old!!! This puts it all into perspective, doesn’t it? 

One of the questions I’m asked quite frequently is "Where ARE we in cancer research – why don’t we have a cure yet?" I find this question baffling, but mostly because I’m not a researcher. That’s like asking Ronald McDonald why the fries take so long to cook; he’s just the guy out front with the funny shoes. He can’t possibly answer such a tricky question!

My answer comes from one of my brilliant docs, and I use it constantly. (Tip: always turn to your genius friends if you need answers. Don’t pretend to know something you don’t come close to understanding.:) He says that this disease has been with us for millennia. Only in the past few decades have we actually found a way to begin the battle.

Chemotherapy didn’t even exist until the 1940’s, did you know that? And the two guys who started it actually worked for the Department of Defense – working on chemical warfare! You never know where the answers for treatment will arise, how it will help, or how long it might take. I suspect that the same answer works for "the cure". All I know is that in the history of all human existence, I am grateful for the last 70+ years of advancements in treatment and research. It’s because of those advancements that I am here to write this little bloggie blog. 

Go go cancer research!

Lunch

CHICAGO - Here for an event, stopped to grab a bite. Everything is going swell; nice cup of tea and some pasta ... quiet.

Then my waiter says "Hey, nice pink ribbon. Guess this is your big month, huh?" You betcha. Big is one word that might cover it.

A little time passes and he returns. He's obviously quite shaken when he returns. "I'm sorry I was so freaked out before, ma'am. My grandma just started her chemo and we are all still really really worried about this whole thing."

So we talk. I tell him what to expect, how the upcoming radiation will affect her compared to the chemo. What she might need to help give her comfort. Then I write my info on a napkin (I never assume I'll need business cards at a lunch ... I wont make that mistake again!) As I was leaving, he grabbed my hand and said "Thank you. You have no idea how reassuring and hopeful you have been. I'm so glad you decided to stop in here!!!"

Me too. Welcome to the journey you never wanted. Someday, maybe you can give hope and comfort to someone, too. It really does make it all worthwhile.

Tattoo

BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA - So many people have tattoos. I've never given them much thought, most of the men in my family are in the military, so I've seen them forever. One guy I met has a little replica of Adam/God from Michelangelo, and I found that to be super fantastic. One lady in chemo had a butterfly on her head - she said if people were going to stare, she wanted to give 'em something good to peek at. Heh.

My sweetie friend Julia found this cartoon and sent it my way, and it has made me laugh for two days straight so far. I like that people throughout the ages have utilized body art as a way to display pride, memory or status. I don't know how many people are aware that the lady next to you in line at the grocery store might have a tat of her own - and in a fairly intimate place. So for our little education journey today, please feel free to research "radiation tattoo." They might not be barbed wire on a sculpted arm, but I'm fairly certain that my fellow cancer patients are pretty proud that we made it through the tattoo process. And all that followed as well. :)

Cartoon courtesy of xkcd

Shoes

INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA - I can tell you the EXACT day that I started to care about footwear. And location, if you care.

First, you should know that I never cared much before that. I mean, I've loved looking at pretty shoes since I was little (by that I mean young, I'm kind of tall), but never realized what an important part they play in the crazy world of self-esteem.

My blog featured a little series titled "In her shoes" for the same reason I now love great kicks; very few women like the way they look. Complimenting one's choice of footwear is always safe and reliable.

When I was in chemo, and as recently as this February (when I had my mastectomy), people were frequently looking me up and down, and that was disconcerting.

Oh, you can hardly tell that's a wig? (Really, just by virtue of the fact that you've said that means you can tell. Thanks ever so.)

Oh, you can hardly tell you had surgery. Are you done, or are you going to have implants? (Ok, yes I opted for implants. And I'm actually all done. Again, by you asking I clearly didn't go with a satisfactory increase. Geesh.)

My defense mechanism? Shoes. If you've got some sweet foot candy going on, nobody ever looks at your ... well, anything really. It suddenly goes from a potential discussion of scar tissue, scarf tying or the pros and cons of silicone to something infinitely more yummy.

The quintessential patent-leather-ankle-tie-cork-wedge. Sky high and built for subterfuge. Here's to distractions, and the cancer patient's art of the ruse.

Wishes

WISCONSIN - You read the news and you are mad, confused, scared and often discouraged. Is it just me, or do you agree? Someone sent me this article, and I just had to share; it’s so happy, so positive and wonderful. Yes, there is cancer involved, and a love separated by a soldier at war. Chemotherapy treatments while the loved ones were far, far away. But in the end, there is love, hope and joy. And a lovely pair of red shoes!!!

Send me your happy stories, won’t you? I’d love to start sharing good news with people; I think we could all use a lift!


Photo courtesy of Bliss Bridal Shoes.

Empowered

PETOSKEY, MICHIGAN - Mel Majoros has her life in order. That’s how it seems to me, anyway. I was introduced to her (online) by a mutual twitter friend. We all liked hockey, so naturally I wanted to say hi! In spite of the fact that I knew she was in Michigan and was most likely a Redwings fan (please keep in mind I’m from Chicago ). So we chat. It takes about .5 seconds before I learn that she’s a survivor.

Three years ago she was on her way to the last day of Redwings training camp (her fan life is a bright, shiny world compared to the rest of us hockey fans …) when her doctor called her and asked how soon she could get in to discuss the biopsy results. You get a call like that, you already know what’s going on, without any further words being spoken. What a shock to someone who was in the ‘best shape of her life’.

She was triple positive, and in our world, it’s better than a few other diagnoses she could have received. As an adopted child, it took her some research to find out if there was a family history of the disease (there was, sadly). She had surgery, chemo – including the much despised red devil – and powered her way through all the side effects. She told me that at one point, the nurse whipped out a needle so large she felt like she was in a cartoon. “What is that thing, like 3 feet long? You have to be kidding me!” The exhaustion coupled with insomnia was a particularly challenging battle for her, one that so many of us struggle to handle.

As a radio producer, she was delighted to be offered the opportunity to host her own show www.empoweradio.com; her focus is to tell people to be an EMPOWERED PATIENT. She refuses to let people embrace the idea of being referred to in the past tense once they have a diagnosis. There are so many patients who need strength and help in areas that are totally unaddressed, and she features them on her show to offer them a bigger voice. She’s interviewed singers who embrace the cause like Ryan Hamner and children like Melinda who write award winning books about cancer.

Her outreach and work is touching people, more than she can possibly understand. Thank you, Mel, for allowing me to put the spotlight on you for a change of pace. Keep fighting, cancer warrior!!!

Eyebrows

BRISTOL, ENGLAND - According to the American Cancer Society,
“If hair loss does occur, it most often begins within 2 weeks of the start of treatment and gets worse 1 to 2 months after starting therapy." This is what you read in the brochures, along with an extensive list of helpful tips. Truly helpful – did you know that you can get a prescription for a wig, as the cost is often covered by insurance? Wonderful!

Way down toward the bottom of most websites lists of tips is to be careful with eyebrows, perhaps eyelashes too. From my perspective, once you have plowed through all the top-of-head hair loss, you are spinning with overwhelming info. You might miss that bit of info, like I did. I had a dear friend who tried to walk me through an installation of false eyelashes, and that had disastrous results. Helpful tip from me to you: if you are diagnosed in October, don’t just run out and buy the first set of eyelashes you find. Be sure to check to see if it has ‘Halloween special fright night length’ on the lash box. Ok, on to the story.

So I am a novice (at best) when it comes to makeup. I didn’t know I would lose my eyebrows, and that makes a huge difference. People can handle gals with really short or no hair (perky! cute! pixie! are words that spring to mind). But lose the eyebrows, and people have a hard time with that one. They blink, frown, and then it hits them. OOOOOOOHHHH she’s in treatment. And that must be a wig. Ooooooohhhhhhh.

So I am on twitter with my friend, Nick, from Bristol. Nick is a make-up whiz and was guiding a lady through how to pencil in some eyebrows when chemo had so helpfully removed them. I wanted to share his tips with you. Nick, thank you. For helping that patient, for reaching out and chatting with me, and for being so willing to share your expertise with others. I know that your Mum’s chemo starts in a few days; you will both be in my prayers.

NICKS TIPS ON HOW TO ACHIEVE THE PERFECT BROW:


* To get perfect brows, you can use a brow pencil or brow powder. You do not need to spend major money on this, Rimmel Londondoes a fantastic pencil with a few shades, and Body Shopsells fantastic powders. Use ashy brown colours, even if your hair is naturally black because black is very ageing. If you use a powder, then you need a good angled liner brush.

* Use a pencil or shadow brush as a guide. Lay it against your nose and point it up towards your forehead. Where your brows should begin is where the pencil hits your brow bone. Turn your guide so it meets the outer corner of your eye. Your brow should end at this point (on the bone).

* The highpoint of the arch in your brow should be just past the outer edge of your iris.

* If you create 3 'points' with your pencil, then you can create a basic shape for your brow.

* Use small 'feathery' strokes with the brush or pencil. Upwards until you hit the arch, then downwards from the arch to the outer point. This way, the strokes looks like hairs. If you draw a line, it looks unnatural.

* Soften it using an eyebrow brush along where you have put the colour.

In Her Shoes

FORT WAYNE, INDIANA/INDIANAPOLIS/ILLINOIS - "No, no, no, no. I'm fine, really. I don’t need anything. Don’t worry." I said to Debbie. She was one of a handful of people who called me regularly during my chemo treatments. That particular day she was just checking in, to see how things were. I sounded blue last time she had called, and she was worried. "I'm tired, Deb. More so than I can express. So tired I can't even take the kids to the park to play on the swing set, and that’s only five minutes away."

That’s all she needed to hear. The following morning, she shows up at my door with our friend Lilly. Their mission: take the kids to the park. Maybe a little hide-and-go-seek, for good measure. Perhaps a bit of help with housecleaning. The things most of us would never dream of asking for, even when we really need it.

These are the kind of friends that can make even something like cancer bearable. Tolerable. Possible. They ignore you totally when you say things like "Don’t come" or "I don’t need anything" or "Does this wig make me look totally goofy?" and just do what they know in their hearts that you need. They made dinners for my babies, played games with them, cleaned my kitchen.

They brought a cake to my last day of chemo, and turned the infusion center into a huge party - who does that? What kind of people can pull that off? I can identify them for you. Other people come first, in their hearts. They feel strongly inclined to make people feel good when it might otherwise seem impossible. All three of the people shown above (their shoes are featured, as they helped me walk my cancer journey) have had hardships and challenges in their lives, but continue to give and show love.

Every time I meet a new cancer patient - and let me tell you, that happens at least 5 times a week - I pray that they have a Debbie, a Lilly or an Anne in their lives. During this month for breast cancer awareness, please know that there are so many gals like me out there, struggling with treatment. And while I know almost no one can be just like my friends, I still would like to hold them up as inspiration for anyone who wants to help.

Get out there. Find someone who needs a helping hand, a simple gesture, a small act of kindness. In other words, ignore your friends. Tell them to hush and just go do something you know they want but won't admit. I can promise you everyone walking that journey will benefit.

Don

DETROIT, MICHIGAN - So I meet this guy on twitter, thanks to my friend Suzy Gatton. He’s had cancer, she said, and has written this amazing book about his 5-time survivorship! Well, who wouldn’t want to say a virtual hello after that kind of an intro? So off I twitter, track him down and say hello. Within 2 posts (No exaggeration. The first one was all nice and "gosh, really looking forward to getting to know you…blah blah blah."), the second post said “wait, what? Are you a Blackhawks fan? Girl, no WAY," says Don. "No Way." With big smiley faces. Oh maaaannnn, I say, and scramble to see where he lives. Detroit. Naturally.

Thus began a series of delightful banter in direct messages back and forth. The hockey season was fun and heated, and interspersed with my concern for his well being. He would talk smack about my Blackhawks while he was getting chemo, thereby rendering me helpless to retaliate. Let me know when you feel better, you dork, I would say. So I can tell you exactly what I think about the Redwings, and how you stole Chelios.

Then the season ended, and he sent me sweet well wishes, and asked if I cried when they won. You know it, brother! I told him. Then the direct messages began to be less frequent. And now they have stopped. For good. I wanted to share with you his last sentiment, because I think it is so important. You need to know that for the most part, the cancer survivors I know don’t care what color you are. If you are a man or a woman. Who you voted for or how often you vote. What kind of car you drive, or what you like on your pizza. They don’t even care what sports team you like, but will have a great time teasing you about the teams anyway. Here is what is crucial, and I will let Don tell you himself. RIP, my friend. It was an honor to know you, even if only virtually. I hope the Redwings win one for you, buddy. But just one. :)

“I’ve filled my original goal here on earth. It was to spend the remainder of my life helping cancer patients. It seems to be where I found the greatest joy and the most sense of worth. I’m moving up into the next roll. I’ll leave my faithful followers to slip in and fill the gaps. Love to you all and positive energy." -Don Wilhelm

Dancing with the Devil (version 2.0)

INDIANAPOLIS - So last week, he says to me with a furrowed brow "We are a little concerned about this one, Heidi" – a little concerned. And well you should be, Dr. George, my wonderful genius oncologist. You thought perhaps you found my old nemesis, my arch-enemy, rival, villain, dark passenger. You suspected that my cancer had returned. Thank heavens, the test just came back ok.

I had it all planned in my head: This time around it will be different. This time, I can take just about any kind of preventative/helpful/make-you-better-sooner medicine because this time when I go through cancer treatment, I am not pregnant. This time, I want as much surgery as I can possibly get. I want to walk out this time looking like Jessica Simpson, if you know what I mean. If I’m going to go all the way, I want to do it looking fab-u-lous. While I’m under for the rest of the mastectomy, what say we toss in a tummy tuck and whatever else you think needs a tune-up? That was my game plan – I had it all worked out just.in.case.

So I am doing the dance with NED. I would really like, God, if at all possible, to see my children (all of them) graduate from college. I know the original request I had was just to meet Noah after chemo, just to see his little face and kiss him. But now I’m getting more selfish. The more I am around my children, the more I like them. And want to see more of them. Call me greedy, but I would like to see how they turn out. And get many more kisses. And hear them call me 'mama' all the time, and ask for cookies and climb on my lap for no reason at all. I have so many sweet little reasons to stick around. So thank you for NED. And for those children.

I have my dancing shoes on, NED. You can spin me around the dance floor. I won’t even mind if you step on my toes, you handsome devil.

Intersections

DETROIT, MICHIGAN - I don’t have a 9 to 5 job. I used to, I've had a few before, but now my job is spectacularly unique. Oh, I still have a cubicle, still have voice mail, still get performance reviews, still get to attend company picnics and still have to file TPS reports. What I don’t have is a clock-out machine. I've talked to enough people out there that some of you know what I mean. I was once told, "Heidi, I go home after work and I’m done. I don't think about it, don’t talk about it, I'm done until the next day. You never actually clock out.”

A perfect example of that is the airport. I am almost always alone on my trips (speaking engagements, events, etc.) which gives me an opportunity to talk to people around me. I try not to be annoying, before you ask. I speak only when spoken to, just like mama taught me. BUT sometimes there I am, at an airport. The guy right next to me in the terminal is on a call, and he’s obviously struggling. We all ignore him, as if we can’t hear every word. There are about 5 of us, sitting here with our lives intersecting just at this one point in time, most assuredly never to meet again. Trying to ignore a painful conversation between a man and his obviously ex-wife. LALALALALA we can’t hear you!!!

He hangs up, and walks away to get a coffee, sits right back down in his original seat next to me. He sees my pink ribbon, which I wear always. "Do you know someone with breast cancer?" He asks. "Well, yes, to be honest, I know probably hundreds of "someones" with breast cancer. Up to and including myself," I say with a smile. His eyes grow wide – "Really? No kidding?" "No kidding. Come on, who would joke about that? Ick." We both laugh. He whispers and says – you know, my ex-wife had breast cancer. And then his eyes get really sad.

I don't say anything, because I’m kind of a) a dork and b) way on the side of the ex-wife and I don't even know the story yet. Shame on me, whatever. Don't care, we all have our opinions. So he continues, "It just got too hard. I didn't know what to do for her, and she changed. Like totally changed." So I am still smiling, smiling at this man, and not screaming at him. Yay me. "Changed during the treatment, you mean?" I ask, quietly. "Yes," he said. "And then afterwards, too." I ask if she was still on medicine during this intolerable "change" she made him witness. "Yes," he confirms, "she is taking something for her cancer. Will have to for years."

So I turn and face him so he gets what I am saying, and gets it clearly. Like when I talk to my kids and really want them to pay attention, I make them look at me right in the face. I tell him that I, too, am on medicine that has "changed" me. It also is saving my life. "Is she in pain, do you know?" I ask him. He tells me, somewhat sheepishly, that he has no idea. So I tell him about bone pain; a common symptom of many cancer meds. And what that does to you, that pain you can’t rub away, can't medicate, can't erase. That low, constant, throbbing reminder that something you hate has invaded your body and will take your life prematurely. The exhaustion that is a fun little left-over from the radiation that will last for years. The fact that surgeries have left her body more like a road map than that of that hot 17-year-old girl you are looking at across the terminal. "Yep, she changed," I acknowledged. But if you know anyone that has ever gone into battle, they all change. We all live with the battle scars, like dark little leaves in the fall. Just laying there, so visible. So, no, your wife isn't that 17-year-old-girl. But inside of her is the woman you once loved. She’s just scared, and tired, and in pain and now totally alone.

When I'm done talking he says "Well, we are already divorced. So that's it." "Yep," I acknowledge, "that bit is done. But when you talk to her next, which you have to do for the kids, maybe ask how she’s feeling. You can't change her pain, and it might take some time for her to believe you actually care about her at all, but at least it’s a start. It might help you more than her. Being kind to people always makes me feel better." He thanks me, believe it or not, and goes to board his plane. I don't know if he will take my advice, will never know. Such is the nature of the intersecting moments. I get these moments all the time. Sometimes at 3 am I'll get a text from someone who doesn’t know what time zone I’m in but wants to talk. She’s going in to surgery soon and is scared. Do I have a moment? Yes, I do. I don’t actually clock out.