Happily Ever After

Today is my anniversary. My husband and I have been married for five years. I was twenty-four at the time; my husband was twenty-five. We were young in so many ways and fiercely grown-up in others. We had a plan, or at least I did. We would go active duty, travel the country, finish school, have children and settle into our dream home here in Baltimore. And as I reminisce it’s hard for me not to think about that plan and how drastically different our lives have become.

I never could have imagined on that crisp fall day all that life had in store for us. I didn’t see my love for animals turning into a career or that we would raise so much money for animals in our community. I didn’t see all the wonderful vacations we would take or the joy of purchasing our first home together. I didn’t see Romeo’s career goals shifting from the fire department and politics to teaching and entrepreneurship. And I certainly didn’t know that just two years later our relationship would be put to the test when I was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer.

Many young marriages would have crumbled under the pressure but ours has become even stronger. For some unknown reason we seem to have found what so many search for their entire lives: real, pure, honest-to-goodness love. It’s a phenomenon we are thankful for each and every day. We often joke that most couples probably don’t say “I love you” nearly as often as we do and that when our friends or co-workers are complaining about their significant other we can’t join in because there’s just nothing to gripe about. And while most people are trying to get away from their spouse, we look for more ways to spend time together.

I say all of this not to brag, but to express how truly lucky I am. I have a husband who loves me and stands by my side despite my being bald, sick, and moody and our lives being dominated by doctor’s appointments. He rides the emotional roller coaster with me and never complains. He goes above and beyond to ensure my happiness and I am incredibly blessed to have him as my husband.

Yes, our life together has been much different than expected. And today’s anniversary brings to mind another that is quickly approaching. In just a few days I will mark three years since being diagnosed. It’s almost impossible not to reflect on that as well and how different I’ve become as a person. Shortly after that date in October, I began to mourn the loss that so many women with breast cancer understand: the loss of my former, innocent self. So I made it my mission to become the “old me” again. And, like so many other women I’ve searched inside myself everyday for some trace of the woman I used to be.

Recently, I decided to discontinue the search. I used to feel that a certain power existed in telling myself and others that cancer hasn’t changed “who I am”, but I think there is greater power in admitting that it has. There is a sort of profoundly bizarre beauty in the cancer perspective, a beauty that can only exist in the darkest of places. After dealing with something so magnificently horrible it’s almost impossible to look at the world and your circumstances in the same way as before. And instead of seeing that as a bad thing, I’ve learned to relish the fact that I’ve reached a level of consciousness, happiness, love and humbling appreciation that most people only dream of. I am not the same woman that I was before cancer, nor will I ever be that woman again – and that’s perfectly okay.

The new me is extremely grateful for everything that I have and for the person I’ve become. And for the fact that I can celebrate five years of marriage with the man of my dreams with a refined bliss that the old me never could have imagined.

~Romeo, I love you with all of my heart and soul.

9/28/05

October 2005

newly moved in 2006

7/7/2007

Cancun 2008

Bahamas 2009

O's game 2010

Paint The Town Pink

It’s that time again. October is rolling around. That means pumpkins, children dressed up for Halloween and the cool crisp air of autumn afternoons. These are all things I look forward to every year. But for me, as a breast cancer patient, October is tainted with a million pink reminders of my disease. It has already begun. Store shelves are filled with items bearing the infamous pink ribbon, promising to donate a portion of the proceeds from the sale to either Susan G. Komen or some unknown cancer foundation. To the average person this seems wonderful, but to a large number of young breast cancer patients like me, this is highly depressing and offensive.

There are a few reasons that I despise the pink ribbon and its message, the first being that it’s a constant, in-your-face reminder of the most horrible thing that has ever happened in my life. Imagine if every year for an entire month, domestic violence or rape victims were bombarded with the face of their attacker. It may seem like a harsh comparison, but that’s just how it feels to be a breast cancer patient in October. Another reason I am offended by the pink ribbon is that I disagree with what it represents. The awareness campaign began in 1985 and was started by AstraZeneca, a drug company which manufactures the breast cancer drugs Arimidex and Tamoxifen. It made sense back then. In 1985 we needed awareness. It’s now 2010 and unless you live in a hobbit hole I’m pretty sure you’re well aware of breast cancer. What we need today is a real, non-toxic, tangible treatment and cure. And possibly my biggest reason for being against the pink ribbon is the sheer exploitation of my illness. Companies slap the pink ribbon on their product as a way to boost sales by playing on people’s emotions and fears. The percentage of the sale that actually goes to cancer organizations is tiny at best.

But, while there are many organizations that aren’t directly helping cancer patients, there are also several that are. My absolute favorite is The Pink Daisy Project. Founded by Debbie Cantwell who is a breast cancer survivor and fellow member of the YSC, The Pink Daisy Project has been able to help countless women all over the country with everyday necessities like housecleaning, groceries and prescription costs and was a recent recipient of a Pepsi Refresh grant. And when Debbie heard about a young woman who was about to be homeless just 2 days after receiving chemotherapy, she decided to help her even though she had no donation money left. With the help of the YSC sisterhood, Debbie’s Pink Daisy Project was not only able to keep this woman from being evicted, but also received enough donations to continue to help other women in need. They even sent me free hats when I started to lose my hair. If you really want to help a woman with breast cancer, leave the pink soup can on the shelf and consider donating directly to this great organization.

And speaking of the YSC, it wouldn’t hurt to donate to them as well. The Young Survival Coalition is an organization dedicated entirely to young women (under 40) with breast cancer. The YSC was the very first resource I found as a newly diagnosed patient and it has been an invaluable tool in guiding me through this journey. I have conversed with countless women through the YSC forum, all of whom I consider to be friends, though we’ve never met. We share something that only women with breast cancer can understand and I wouldn’t be the informed and well adjusted person that I am today without their support. There is also a great organization that I just learned about today called Movable Feast, who provides free meals to people living with AIDS and other life-challenging conditions, such as cancer. It may sound simple, but fulfilling a basic need by providing a meal can be the difference between a good day and a bad day for someone dealing with cancer.

These are just an example of some of the wonderful groups that are directly helping women with breast cancer in real time. When you donate to them, you know exactly where your money is going and you’re able to see real results. As a young breast cancer patient on the front lines of this disease, I’d much rather see people supporting these organizations rather than buying a pink water pitcher. Please think before you pink!

For The Love Of Baseball

Fall is upon us. For most families that means the end of summer and the beginning of the school year. But in our house, September represents the last month of baseball and my husband starts to get a little sad inside. I can’t tell you how many times he’s reminded me of just how few games are left for the season. As usual, he’s already designed and completed his “costume” for fan appreciation weekend with hopes to win a season ticket plan for the third year in a row. And if you know my husband, you know it’s practically in the bag.

He certainly deserves it. If you’ve ever attended a game with us, then you’d have to agree he’s the Orioles’ biggest fan. If you haven’t, then you’re missing out. It is truly a unique experience. Even if you’re not a fan, you will be after spending nine innings watching him yell, cheer, start the wave and spell O-R-I-O-L-E-S in an attempt to get the crowd pumped up. In fact, it’s hard to not let his energy and love for the game seep into you. And that’s just what it does. I love watching a person who sat through most of the game glued to their seat suddenly jump up and start joining in the fun. Or seeing the look of appreciation on a kid’s face as Romeo shows them the best way to catch homeruns at batting practice.

Sure, the Orioles haven’t been playing great for a long, long time, but the words he scribed on his favorite O’s hat says it all – “Win or Lose, Die Hard”. Isn’t that what a true fan is supposed to be? Now that we’ve got Buck and the O’s are improving, I’m sure we’ll see more fair weather fans popping up next year. Regardless, we’ll be there cheering on and supporting our home team, because that’s what we do.

You see, for us baseball season is never really over. So, while everyone else’s mind is shifting to cold weather and football, we’ll be spending the month at Camden Yards, cheering on the O’s and planning out next year’s schedule. We’ll talk about going to Florida for spring training and maybe this time we’ll actually book the trip and go. We’ll start to plan our fundraising games for 2011 and be filled with anticipation for Fan Fest and Opening Day. And while Baltimore’s residents are decked out in purple Raven’s gear, we’ll still be rocking our orange and black O’s shirts, hats and jackets. Call us crazy. Call us die-hards. But please call us what we truly are, fans.