FT2LIV

These days I am pondering the strength of the human spirit, the will to do whatever it takes to fight to live. Here in the Chesley house, we have a lot of fighters. Watching Jill persevere through such a traumatic accident was awesome to witness. There was not much that would keep her down, she laughed, made others laugh, and took each moment with grace. She had hope, which seems to be  a key ingredient to the fight of the human spirit. I cannot imagine ever giving up, but I am starting to wonder,  what is the breaking point? Over the holidays, I witnessed a loved one who is struggling with a debilitating disease partake in the very activity that caused the disease in the first place. I cannot fathom or empathize. I haven't been there. What causes a person to give life the bird and just say forget it? Do you reach a point of no return and just decide to knowingly cause further harm to your body leaving you to literally wait for the inevitable? Watching this made me sad...

...from being brought to our knees. Matt Kearny sings these lyrics in Closer to Love. When I first heard this song...I thought how true the words are. Today I come back to my home base blog to vent again. I know, seriously, when will I just stop venting??? Well, today I am venting with a purpose. Imagine that you are in the prime of your life, strong, fit, young...32 young, living lots of  "life is good" moments. You start feeling a little "off" so ultimately head to the doc, after a series of tests, even a surgery, you get the phone call that brings you to your knees. You have stage three Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Seriously? Yes, seriously. The next six months will be filled with MRI's, biopsies, CT Scans...with Barrium (yum), and Chemotherapy. Six months of Chemotherapy. Six Months. The good news, 83.9% five year survival rate, a statistic I know my friend will beat and he will be chasing his grandkids, and great grandkids as an old, old man. Along with the ...

It is hard to believe that I have not been here, to my safety net, since March of this year. I have been thinking of writing, lord knows enough has happened since March. What brings me here today is cancer, again. I know....you are thinking, geesh Amanda, it has been two years since your last treatment, can't you move on already? I can, I do, sometimes. But the problem is that I live with the effects of Chemo every single day. At least I think I do. You see, my brain just doesn't seem to be the same. I used to be so quick witted and fast...fast worker, fast typer, fast thinker. Not so much anymore. Oh, I can still hold my own in a meeting, with the intellects, it is just not a cake walk anymore. I have to work harder, my motivation is just on a low speed. It seems to take me forever to get through a task, or grab on to a task and finish it. So...not to complain, but seriously, this sucks. I am trying everything, brain teasers (when I feel like it), medicine, juices, exercise,...

I think about this blog often and yet I don't find myself coming to write. I am torn with feelings of self doubt, afraid to be too negative, too positive, or to melancholy. Strange, when this was my main venue for releasing and sharing the energies around fighting breast cancer. Here's the deal, life is full of ups and downs, whether I am fighting an illness or not. We are all survivors! Survivors of the constant flow of energy that surrounds us. During the course of a day, many of us go through so many emotions, we probably couldn't count. From watching the news and crying with the mother who lost her legs saving her kids in the tornado, to joy of seeing a friend, anger when the kids do something that strikes the chord, and so on. The bottom line, I have to remember to stop and think - is this drama and all the emotion I am wasting worth it? Life is full of so much beauty, we just have to stop along the way and grab it. Rather than picking up others negative emotions, toda...

Debbie, When we first met, I was in the midst of raging against a war within my body. We met in the Fall of 2010 at a Colts Softball practice. I had just undergone my first Chemo treatment and was sitting far away from the crowd wearing my big black hat and sunglasses; to keep me away from germs and protect my chemo skin from the sun. You didn't say anything that day, but once we spoke at the next game, you took me under your wing. You made me feel normal, loved, part of the group in our new neighborhood. You showed my daughter that women can survive breast cancer and live a good life! She needed that. She was so scared that I was going to die, you saved her from worry - thank you. Over the past year, your family has become an extension of our family. I have only known you for a year, there is so much more I want to know about you. There just hasn't been enough time. Here is what I am sure of, with your incredibly beautiful soul, my friend, you are going to have the biggest ang...

Luke 1:37 For nothing is impossible with God. This verse has cropped up many times this week; first in a blog in which a mother grieves her son whom she lost in the terrible flooding last week. Since, it has been in my head and I have been seeing it everywhere. Nothing with God is impossible. Lately, I have been trying to pretend I am normal. As if I am not a cancer survivor. As if I shouldn't have to worry about recurrence and mastitis. Then life reminds you - YOU ARE A SURVIVOR - and through him all things are possible. i can pretend I am in control and even help the big man out by eating healthy, working out, nurturing my spirit, etc. But I am not in control, not one bit. With all that I do to fight this disease, it can come back whenever it wants to and I have no control, at all. That is just plan fact. Sad, devastating, and true. It can sneak up on me and rock my world all over again. BUT, it is not quite that simple, is it? You see, nothing with God is impossible. With my fai...

Two weeks ago tomorrow I began the process to physically rebuild by undergoing phase 1 of a very long process for reconstruction. The surgery went very well and my surgeon, Dr. Davison and his staff are amazing. My recovery has been a dream and other than waiting for my drains to come out (they are so gross, I will spare the details) I am back on track. I won't be able to work out for a couple more weeks, but I am trying to get back to activity with walks, etc. But...my surgery is not what brings me back here. For some reason, sharing my story and where this damn cancer journey takes me on this blog is cleansing. Even if nobody reads it. Last Saturday, I did Race for the Cure - a last minute decision sparked out of middle of the night anger at this disease while I was recovering from surgery. I awoke at 3AM mad at cancer and ready to give it another ass whooping. So, I registered for Race for the Cure, a place where we can raise money to make a difference...and Susan G. Komen makes...