We participated in the Walk For Hope living ribbon on Cancer Survivor’s Day.   It was such a beautiful day.  At some point a new regional hospital will be on these grounds, which is adjacent to the cancer center.  A beautiful place for healing in my opinion.  We are at the tip on the lower right side as you look at the pic.  You can see E‘s dark pants and dark hair right a the point and A’s blue shorts. (haven’t they gotten tall?!)  A has designed the shirt for the walk, which is “SICK” as her friends say (that’s good). I’m waiting quotes for the printing, and then we’ll be all set as a team!  So far we have 14 members walking and have raised $745.00! (the link is on the tab above WALK4HOPE 2010 if you are interested in joining us or donating.)

I’ve seen a few people who I have not run across in quite a few months.  They ask how I’m doing, if treatments are over.  I’m so happy when I can say a resounding yes.  The “Are you cancer free?” question has a different impact.  My typical response is “As far as we can tell.”  Why am I so tentative?  Well I guess it’s just because if you asked me that 1 1/2 years ago I would have looked at you like you were out of your mind.  Of course I’m cancer free.  Look at how I live. Look at my family history.  I nursed my children for a million years.  Don’t these all put me in a low risk category?  Even WITH my new history, my health risk assessment at work puts me in a low risk category.  Go figure.

I’m starting to understand what other survivors have told me about having isolated moments when I’m a bit unsure.  Like a headache, when I normally don’t get headaches.  (It lasted one afternoon, mind you, and a little ibuprophen went a long way to douse the pain.) Like some joint pain, when I have only really just gotten back into daily walking, stretching, some yoga.  (On a side note, isn’t aging a funny thing?  I totally deny that aging has ANYTHING to do with stuff like aches and pains!)  Like anticipating the date for the CT scan arriving in the mail any day this week.  Mostly I am not anxious.  I just go in for my port flushes like it’s any other day.  I talk with the nurse about the day I will have the port removed and they cheer.  “Just waiting for that last CT scan.”  I’m not likely to loose sleep, thanks to my inherited sleep gene from Pop.  I let the thoughts/fears just pass through me most of the time.

Speaking of genes, I’ve received the genetic specialist’s notes from our visit.  How is it that some providers can remember so much info so accurately with such detail?  The social worker suggested that if I wanted to pursue, that she run just the letter from the doc by the insurance company to see if she can obtain prior authorization.  I’m likely to go that route.  If they deny or ask for clinical info, then with my permission, she’d send the note from the visit with all the family history.  B and I are still debating the pros and cons of this.  My nurse practitioner angel is really supporting the test if we can feel comfortable with the info being sent.  So that’s still simmering.  One thing Dr. Genetic Specialist said in the report was that if my family history changes AT ALL with regard to cancer (perish the thought), it would most likely make me eligible for the testing.  I’d rather the $3500 go to the Walk4Hope if insurance won’t pay to tell you the truth.  I plan to inform my relatives of the recommendations as they stand, especially female relatives.

The comedian who performed at Cancer Survivor’s Day was Scott Burton.  If you are interested, check him out on the web.  His message fits with today’s entry because the living ribbon is about living.  I agree with Scott when he says that being a survivor does not make us anything special.  Everyone has to survive things in their lives.  We just have to remember to keep on living.