My Marriage has Cancer.

I am not an easy person to be married to.  I'm difficult on a good day.  Add cancer to the mix and its a complete catastrophe.  I do that thing that most women are guilty of: Where I fantasize about what I want my husband to do, never communicate it to him and then get pissed when he doesn't do it.  In this case, I visualized Adam lifting me into his big arms and carrying me through this entire journey.  Protecting me and guiding me through.  Plowing through hurdles, lifting me up when I couldn't stand, wiping my tears and spinning me around in fields of daisy's.  Sounds perfect, doesn't it?  Just one problem, that didn't happen.  Sometimes he did exactly what I needed, sometimes he gave me pieces of what I needed, sometimes he did everything wrong, and sometimes he didn't do anything at all.  He is so overworked, he shoulders so much stress, and he doesn't know how to process it all.  At times, the ways he has chosen to cope have been hurtful to me.  Deal breakers.  The way that I have chosen to cope has, at times, been hurtful to him, and others for that matter.  It's a tough spot.  We are 29!  We have no freaking idea how to do this.  We have been together for 12 years and this last one has by far been our worst.  We fought harder then we have ever fought.  We crossed lines, boundaries, and lashed out in some the worst ways possible.  We are both already on the edge, it only takes the slightest nudge and we are at each others throats.  We've been mean, we've been stupid, and we have been unforgivably cruel to each other.  Because we are angry.  We are both so fucking angry.

teenagers

Feb 18th 2003.  Ayden Fox Ford was born.  We've all grown up together.

Our wedding.

2011

I have learned through this to curb my judgment when it comes to how people grieve and cope with my cancer.  Just because I need a certain level or manner of support doesn't always mean that person is capable of providing it.  I realized early on that each one of my people were handed their own personal bag of shit.  Adam was perhaps handed the biggest shit bag of all.  If there is one thing that I know for sure, it's that my husband loves me.  Cancer rocked my marriage and cancer almost ended it.  It's not always the way it looks in the movies.  People don't always do the right thing or know the perfect thing to say.  For somebody who likes things to be perfect, to feel perfect, and to look perfect it has been a difficult lesson to learn.  My husband loves me, he really does.  This is so much more then he bargained for and I know he would swing me around in fields of daisy's if he knew how.  Its honest, it's real, it's messy, and that's okay.  Because the beautiful part is-  I have never loved anyone else.  It's always been him.

Our anniversary was yesterday, the 23rd.  My brother drove me up to Stonebridge Manor, the place where Adam and I were married 8 years ago.  Waiting for me on one knee was my husband.  Tucked into our son's pocket was a dainty rose gold band that he handed to his dad.  Adam asked me to marry him again and then walked me to the same alter where we had once said "I Do".  Zoie sprinkled a basket full of rose petals down the isle before us.  This time it was my husband that walked me down the isle, our parents and siblings standing with us.  Adam read me beautifully humble vows that he had written and then my father-in-law, ordained by the world wide web, re-married us.  It was beautiful and thoughtful and planned completely by Adam.  It's not daisy's but I'll take it.  I know that I am going to survive cancer and hope that my marriage will be a cancer survivor too.  I am ready and eager to start a different and more evolved relationship with the man that was too shy to kiss me 12 years ago.

A fresh start.

Ringing Out.

I panicked.  I mean I really panicked.  We're talking ripping off all my restraints, jumping off the table, and running down the hallways with my butt cheeks hanging out.  Yeah, that bad.

Let me paint you a picture:  I am laying in a mold that is fitted for the exact position I am to lie perfectly still in for 40 minutes.  I am strapped to the table and told that if I move even one hair I could risk radiating my heart and/or lungs.  All I have to do is lay there and hold my breath.  I am told that I wont feel, hear, smell, or taste anything.  Completely alone.  Nobody can hold my hand, even the technicians are behind a protective wall.  I am feeling strong, ready, and completely terrified.  As the first blast of radiation goes into my body, my heart instantly palpitates.  My chest is on fire, I swear I can smell flesh burning.  I yell for help and the voice over the intercom quickly tells me to lay still.  I am screaming "STOP!"  "I FEEL IT!" and the voice again reminds me to lay still.  Another blast of radiation shoots into my chest and I am vibrating with fear.  I have no idea if they are going to blast me again but I am too afraid to find out.  I rip off all my restrains and fly off the table.  I'm sobbing, I can feel the crazy rising up in my belly.  I can't do it.  I won't.  I'm done.

I dart out of the treatment room, refusing to deliberate.  I know what I felt, I know my body, and I know that I have gone way too far into crazy town to be rational.  I couldn't get out of that place fast enough.  I had people literally chasing me, begging me to at least talk to the doctor.  I just left.

The next two days I went into a deep dark place.  I had to remove myself from my children because frankly, I was unfit to care for them.  I needed to scream at the top of my lungs, I needed to get mad, and I needed to cry hard.  I didn't need to reason, I needed to cleanse.  I contemplated not doing radiation at all.  I daydreamed about just throwing in the towel and going back to my old life.  Ultimately, it always comes down to one thing.  Life.  I want to live.  

After talking to my doctor and learning that although rare, it is absolutely normal to feel something, smell something, or even taste something, I felt better.  But, mostly it was the copious amounts of Xanax that finally got me through my first treatment.  I now have 3 full treatments under my belt, with 22 more to go.  And at the end, I hope to ring the bell that only the bravest of people get to ring. 

Topless Photo shoot - Look #2

I have no idea what I am doing here.  I just wanted to prove that without hair and boobs I am still worthy of all the same womanly ideals that I used to be privileged to.  I am in transition.  I am shedding skin.  Trusting someday there is a butterfly emerging from this cocoon.  I get that this is about embracing who I am, empowering woman, and breaking stereotypes.  So why wear the wig?  Because I feel better in it, I feel more like me, and I did this for me.  I hate the short hair.  HATE it.  But I get the importance of shedding the wig... and I did.
Look #2-Wigless.

Topless Photo shoot - Look # 1

Back in May of 2013, the day before my very first chemo, I asked Brittany Janelle (Photography) if she would come take some pictures of me.  I wasn't exactly sure why I needed them, I just knew for sure that I did.  I needed to capture the woman I was in that fleeting moment, to give her one last time to shine, smile, and bid her a proper adieu.  I had no idea then just how valuable those pictures would be.  That girl is long gone.

Fast forward to now.  I'm not whole, my body feels broken, forgein.  This phase feels a bit like shedding, molting, cocooning.  Pealing parts of myself away all while being completely unsure what lies beneath.  I am right smack in the middle.  Half of the girl I used to be and pieces of an absolutely new one.  I don't know all the reasons why yet, but I know that I need to document it.  I needed to prove that this too IS beautiful, pretty, and oh so sexy.  Prove it to one person.  Me.

Obviously, I had to have Brittany Janelle capture these images.  I am at a loss for words to explain how grateful I am to her and for her.  I literally could go on forever about how much I love her and how insanely talented she is.  But instead, I urge you to go see for yourself.  www.BrittanyJanellePhotography.com  .  Adorbs, right?!  Thank you, Brittany.  They are perfect.

There are a ton of pictures and a few different "looks".  I am going to break it into 3 parts.  Here is look #1!

Target Practice

I don't know exactly why I am so afraid of this part.  Maybe because my gut cant seem to accept it.  Maybe it's the cold and sterile feel of it.  Maybe it's just the fear of the unknown.  I do know that I hate what it says about me, I know I hate the category it lumps me into.

"I have poisoned my body for a year, cut my breasts and lymph nodes off, and still...I need to be microwaved?  That bad, huh?"

Needless to say, I'm in a funky head space.  Anxious.  Uncertain.  Done.  My gas tank is running low and this certainly isn't the leg of the race for any of that.  I am going through the motions, lifelessly.  On Wednesday, I had a special mold made that fits only me, laying in a very specific (and uncomfortable post-surgical) position.  They drew markings all over my chest and armpits.  I am told that if I baby these markings I can avoid tattooing.  And it seems a few tears and calls to the right people was all it took to get my schedule to much more reasonable place.      

On the 4th of February, I will begin my daily radiation treatments.  Between doctors appointments, chemo, and radiation I will literally be a full time cancer patient.  As if I wasn't already.  I'm struggling to find my strength here.  I am just so tired.  Every moment in my mind is filled with attempts to improve the quality of my thoughts, dim down the fear, search for positivity, and muster up some guts.  But for now, to be perfectly honest, I am pissed off and scared shitless.  At least I have a couple weeks to get over it, right?

Radiate This.

"It's all down hill from here"..."Radiation is a piece of cake"..."You're in, you're out, no problem!"

LIARS!

This is supposed to be the easy part.  So far, it isn't and I have yet to be radiated.  I went in today to meet with my radiation doctor whom I haven't seen since I was first diagnosed.  I was also there to do something called simulation, where they make molds of you in a certain position, tattoo your skin with directional markers, teach you how to hold your breath so you don't radiate your heart and lungs, and basically do a dry/prep run.  Fancy, stuff.  I really wasn't nervous at first, I figured this couldn't be that bad.  I am not even actually being radiated...Part of how I have coped through this whole debacle is to only tackle one thing at a time, whatever is directly in front of me.  It's not really an option, my mind can only comprehend and wrap around so much at one time.  People have often tried to talk to me about future parts of my journey and were either met with resistance or a blank stare.  Because it's just too much to take it all in, at least this was the case for me.  Currently, I am in the midst of comprehending radiation and so far it has been a total nightmare.

After meeting with my doctor and being told that:

• I have to come everyday, even if I am sick.  I cannot miss an appointment.  If I do, I will get radiated twice in one day and according to him, the potential burns from a double dose aren't worth it.
• I will not be radiated for 15 minutes like I previously was told, but 40 minutes. Lovely.
• My entire chest will be radiated.
• Radiation has to exit, which means the burns will be on my back as well as my chest.
• I am getting tattoos!  They are permanently marking my body.  What a wonderful and permanent keepsake. NOT.
• I have to stop shaving my armpits, but don't worry the hair and skin will burn off anyways!

After getting some prescriptions for burn creams, I dressed in a hospital gown and was sent to a waiting room.  This is where I shit myself.

 My fellow patients included:

• A man with no face, literally just a forehead that had been pulled down to his chin.
• A woman with half a jaw, she told me that she had breast cancer when she was young too, and then got it again 18 years later in her mouth.
• A boisterous lady, who after telling me about her husbands several affairs, then told me how she had breast cancer once years ago, but now has cancer of the liver.
• And, a sweet volunteer who told me that her daughter died at 45 of breast cancer.  

Suddenly, I realized...I am one of them.  I am among the worst of the worst.  All of these incredibly brave people were where I am right now.  Praying that at the end of all this pain awaits a beautiful and healthy life.  NONE of their prayers were answered.  My hands actually started to tremble.  I was trying so hard no to cry.  I was all but screaming that I was different from these people but the more they talked, the more they sounded just like me.  From then on the whole morning just went to shambles.  I waited until 11:30 for my 10 am appointment, at this point I was out of time and was going to have to reschedule, I had my Zoie Jax to pick up.  Nothing trumps that.  The young schedulers huffing and puffing made it clear that she didn't like this very much.  She took me to her scheduling office where she told me that they didn't have anything during the hours of 9-11am for at least a week.  I tried explaining to the scheduler about my 3 year old daughter and how I put her in a school that she loves in order to be able to come to my daily appointments.  She suggested I move her to a daycare, or find a college student, or maybe my husband could get home from work earlier.  After several polite smile and nods, I suggested she mind her own business.  She laughed at the idea that I could have my radiation done while my daughter was in preschool, my 3 hour window gave her nothing to work with.  Reminding me that everyone wants morning appointments and everyone has reasons just as valid as mine.  She even suggested that perhaps I find a different place to get treatment.  She was cold, argumentative, and should find a different job.  I was scared, alone, and desperately needed somebody to be kind to me.  She treated me like a number, like an inconvenience, and like a joke.  After about 10 minutes of her abuse, I told her that I would contact somebody with the authority to tell me no and left her office with my head held high.  I wasn't three feet out her door before I was bursting into tears.  I wanted to march back in and say "Hey!  I am a mom, I am just trying to fucking live.  I am doing my very best here to make all of this work.  I lost my business, my husband is completely over worked, I have a 3 hour window to work with, now make it happen, lady!"  But instead, I called my husband and screamed those things to him.

Rationally, I know it is all going to work out.  I'll get the radiation that I need, during the hours that work best, and my daughter will stay at the school that she loves.  I just got the air knocked out of me, that's all.  I allowed her to rob me of my joy and I've been weepy and pissed off every since.  Radiation doesn't sound easy, and from the look of the skin on my fellow waiting room attendees, it doesn't look so easy either.  It's going to suck.  Majorly.  At least my radiation doctor is easy on the eyes.

Today I am thankful for false eyelashes.

One day in pictures.

One day in the life of a cancer mom....

6:00am

Adam wakes me up with a hot cup of coffee, we snuggle for a 1/2 hour and watch the news and write or read in our gratitude journal. (My favorite part of the day!!).  Adam showers and gets ready for work while I make our morning smoothies.  I send him off to work with a blended concoction of Spinach, Bok Choy, and Kale galore!  I promise they are delish and loaded with medicine.

7:00 am

A chemo-hawk, lip gloss, fake boobs, and good luck jewelry from some very special friends completes my beauty routine.  Short hair does have its perks!
7:30am

 Reluctantly, I wake up these gorgeous sleeping babies, get them dressed, and whip them up some breakfast.

7:45

My sink is full of dishes, I haven't done whites in 2 weeks, and I have to-do lists and notes scattered everywhere.  I pretend not to notice...
7:50am

The dreaded squirt bottle attacks during breakfast every morning.  My kids shower at night so I have to wet, add product, and style each of them to perfection.  After all, I do have a reputation to protect!  Today, my attempt at something creative makes my daughter looks like part of a polygamist sect.
8:00am

Ayden feeds the dog and Zoie has a meltdown, insisting it is her turn to feed the dog.  I decide that I cannot leave the house with a sink full of dishes and rush through an entire sink.  Ayden packs as snack while Zoie continues to remind him about the turn taking rules of dog feeding.  After a full half hour of crying, washing, packing up, suiting up, and tidying up....We are off!
8:30

Ayden is dropped off at his school which is just around the corner.  Zoie and I head for her Preschool which not near the house, but thankfully is down the street from the cancer center.  She goes to school now Mon-Fri from 9am-12pm, her school is amazing and she has about 4-5 other 3 year olds in her class.  She loves it and it allows me a few hours to go have my daily treatments done.
9:15

I arrive at MD Anderson Cancer Center.  My home away from home.  I head to the Lab first to have my port put in and some blood drawn.  I always stop at the ribbon tree and smile at the ribbons I have tied.  I make small talk with my homies while I wait for my turn to be stabbed.
10:00am

I am finally called and go back to have my port placed in.  An hour prior I put some numbing cream on my port and use a little "press'n seal" to keep it in place.  They draw blood out of my port to see how my immune system is holding up and they also wrap it up all pretty so that I can later receive my chemo through it.
10:45

I catch an elevator ride with a cute vending machine repair man, check in to chemo with my girl Donna, and then get some vitals done with Halie.  Halie was there on my first day of chemo and was the only person who got me through that day.  I love her.  Seriously, I love her.
11:15

I do some puzzles while waiting for my chemo to be ordered, get hooked up to the matrix, talk to my chemo nurse about her personal problems, tell her about mine, and meet with my surgeon while hooked up to chemo(she comes to me because she knows I have to pick up my daughter, what a gal!).  I had 2 more appointments that day that I had to reschedule because I refuse to be late to pick up my daughter.  Everyone knows it and they all work together to help get everything done as quickly as possible.  Today, I am cutting it close on time and beginning to stress....
11:42am

I get unhooked from the Matrix and rush to my daughters school.  I even arrive a couple minutes before noon and sneak a picture of her through the little window in the door.  All the other moms are chatting.  They all think I am weird.  The quiet bald girl, none of them know that I have cancer.  Maybe they do, but I haven't told them.  I begin to feel nauseous and sit down in the middle of the floor hoping to make the spinning stop.  This just makes them think I am more strange.  I'm too sick to care.
12:20pm

We get home.  I can feel the chemo bubbling up in my system.  I know it's going to be bad, I can feel it.  I whip up some lunch and decide to let Zoie eat in her room(a VERY special treat, since we don't allow the kids to eat food anywhere but the kitchen).  I ask the universe very politely if it can just make her sleep for a few sweet, sweet hours.  My prayers are answered!  She doesn't nap often so this is a rare gift.  It couldn't bee more needed, I have to sleep some of this chemo off and I can barely keep my eyes open.
1:00pm

I whip up my lunch/medicine and curl up with a soft blanket.  I get sick.  I call my husband and tell him that I am not doing so well.  Adam takes every hour of overtime they will give him, the guy never calls in sick but today I begged him.  I knew once my eyes closed I wouldn't be able to open them for quite some time.  I just wanted the pain and sickness to stop.  Sleep is my only escape.
4:00pm
Adam gets home, 3 hours early, and just a few minutes after Zoie had woken up from her nap.  I have no more pictures from this point because I didn't wake up until the next morning.  I felt paralyzed, I heard parts of what was going on around me but was unable to move.  That chemo kicked my ass!  Knocked me out for 15 solid hours.  Adam, cleaned the house, took the kids to the park, made dinner, did homework (his and Ayden's) gave baths, and put them to bed.  What a saint.  He wound up having to use a couple hours of vacation time in order to make it home.  I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't.  When I finally woke up, I had lost function of my hands.  I had no feeling and was unable to grip.  Rather then getting better, my neuropathy has gotten progressively worse.  Limiting the use and function of my hands.  It's scary.  I still feel woozy, but I am going to live.  This is so much better then the other chemo's I have been on.  Basically, just a bad 24 hours.  I can handle that.

I have radiation to start, but I am waiting until after Tuesday.  Because, on Tuesday I am doing a topless photo shoot.  Yep.  I'm palpitating already.

For those of you who are clicking on my Ad's, thank you!  It makes me feel so profesh!  And a very special thank you to all of you who share this blog on your Facebook and Twitter.  Not only has it brought awareness, assistance for my family, but it has reached other young moms who are newly diagnosed and scared to death.  Together we are making it just a little bit better.