Being Alive.

Today is my 3^rd Red Devil treatment.  It’s on a Thursday because I am meeting with my surgeon beforehand and working around her schedule.  I have felt so good for the past week.  My brain is firing on all cylinders for the first time in at least 4 months.  It was a relief to know that I was still in there, that my ability to process thoughts hasn’t been drugged out of me.  My personality came back, I was carefree and fun.  I took every opportunity to giggle with my daughter and bond with my son.  We functioned like a family, a normal family.  My house is spotless, my kids are happy, and my husband and I found our way back to the playful way we love each other.  I don’t want to be back here, but I am. I am making a choice to not be angry with my treatment and instead be happy that I am able to receive it. This morning I set my alarm for 4 am (even though my appointment wasn't until 8am) just so that I could soak up every last minute of being me.  Soon after waking up, a little blonde tousled head came bobbing out of her room, curled up into my arms, and went right back to sleep.  Almost like she knew.  It felt so good to have her warm little body pressed against mine, I could have stayed there forever.  And for the first time in a long time, I cried because I was happy.

The best part about feeling so alive this past week was my ability to fight to stay alive.  I had a fire lit underneath me, focusing my attention on getting one question answered.  What caused my cancer?  God, I wish I knew.  Environmental?  Probably not.  Due to the aggressiveness of my tumor and my age my doctors doubt it.  Hereditary?   Maybe... But there just isn’t that much cancer in my family history for that to be a certain answer.  I want to know, I so very desperately want to know.  What is responsible for this?  It is so rare for women in their 20s to develop breast cancer, why did it happen to me?  Maybe I just need something to hate.  The worst part?  Finding the answer is so simple.  It’s done through a series of comprehensive gene testing.  Of which my insurance has no interest in paying.  If it were just my curiosity in jeopardy here then I could see brushing it off.   But it is so much more!  There are several different syndromes that may be the culprit.  Having one of those syndromes would mean possibly that I don’t need to lose both breasts.  Having another syndrome would mean that radiation is the cause of my cancer and therefor halt my plans for radiation and also make me aware of future exposure.  There may be cancer causing genes that I have passed to my children.  Am I wrong to fight so hard for these tests?  I just don’t think so.

Through this blog I have shown every step of my journey except one.  Probably the biggest part.  80% of my time (at times more) I have spent in bed feeling like I was knocking on deaths door.  I haven’t shown that part.  I haven’t shown the darkest side of this, the part that's the most real.  So, this week I have given my husband and mother permission to document EVERYTHING.   Even I am curious how bad it looks from their angle.  Next week, I am going to share it with you.  Because I think it is important for me to not gloss over the ugly.  But I must warn you folks, Kara without makeup, eyebrows and eyelashes covered in sweat and drool is undoubtedly pretty damn ugly. 

Just one more thing…In honor of breast cancer awareness month I wanted to show how a just few of my special people have rocked their pink for me.

My Father and sister-in-law made it perfectly clear that they have my back forever.

The Lawrence girls used their team to send me some love.

Lindsey did her nails

And Amy did rocked a pink streak.

 This is just a small example of how much love and support I have received.  To the rest of you-and you know exactly who you are.  Thank you.