Vote for a Local Business!

From my friend Julie...

Two years ago this month I was diagnosed with breast cancer. While going through treatment I designed and developed a planning system to keep on top of the paperwork, treatment regimes and scheduling. Cancer is complicated and overwhelming and there is a great deal of emotional trauma that accompanies the disease. The more organized and focused I became the easier the process.

My planner became my security blanket. Knowing how imperative the system was for me, I began to design one for others. Nearly two years from inception, Ready for Recovery/Breast Cancer Planner is going to become a reality.

Ready for Recovery is designed to help patients and their families navigate treatment and recovery. It is meant to ground, support and guide patients while alleviate fear, stress and confusion. There is a specific place for tracking everything -- from diagnosis, pathology, blood work and treatment protocols to appointments, nutritional recommendations and emotions.

This month Intuit is awarding over $50,000 in grants through their Love a Local Business campaign. Help me help others going through breast cancer by voting for Ready for Recovery. It only takes a minute. To vote visit http://shar.es/aN5rN

It is my intention to get planners into the hands of as many newly diagnosed cancer patients as I can so they to can add their names to the list of survivors.

Keep on living, loving and laughing ... Julie

I have seen the planner and can attest it truly has everything to navigate the roller coaster ride from diagnosis to treatment. Take a minute before the end of this month and vote for Julie's planner. Thanks -- Connie

BANDEAU...

...a wireless strip of cloth with Velcro fasteners designed to hold the girls down.

Later the bandeau added a fashionable strap around the neck and transformed into the Brassiere, or "over the shoulder boulder holder".

I love my bandeau, or "boobie sling" as I call it.

In the beginning there were four walls...

Why would anyone tear down a perfectly good wall? Because it's fun!

Sometimes it's just not OK

Along the path of life there are ups and downs and we're told to "be positive" or paint on that happy face, but sometimes it's just not OK.

I woke this morning to a horrific email. A friend of mine lost several people in her life. The first lost her battle to ovarian cancer. The next three lost their lives in Haiti's earthquake.

Currently there is no early reliable detection for ovarian cancer. It is one of the most deadly cancers to women. For more information about ovarian cancer visit http://www.ovariancancer.org/.

I don't watch TV; I don't even own a TV. I learned there was an earthquake in Haiti about 3 or 4 days after the event. But not my dear friend's friend. She lived it. While working for the UN she moved her husband and three kids to Haiti. On that fateful day she lost her husband and two of her children. In the wake of one of the most devastating earthquakes, she finds herself a widow. In the aftermath she is left with only one of her beautiful children.

Should you choose to help any of the Haiti relief efforts, you will find many ways to do so. Perhaps you can "adopt" a family so that they can begin to heal; donate money or supplies. I would encourage you to scout out the way in which you help. Make sure your supplies, money, or donation is actually getting to where it needs to be.

People asked me over the last nine months, how do I stay so positive. It is simple really. I get to live.

My heart and all my thoughts are with the friends and family of the ones that have lost their battle to cancer, to my friend's friend who passed with ovarian cancer. My heart is with those in Haiti and affected by Haiti. May you find a place where you can heal.

Gymnastics is somersaults right?

I read the bumper sticker correctly: Gymnastics build better bones. It is the fine print I never saw: And it'll kick your butt also!

Holy cow and a half!

I researched what builds bones -- apparently we all need a little "bone" every now and again. Oh there were other things, super exciting things like doing squats, race walking, and doing body weight exercises. A small tangent here is necessary. What are body weight exercises? And do you only have to do half of them if you are heavier? Or is this some new thing college kids are doing? Anyway...

Gymnastics was also on the list so I immediately let my fingers do the walking all over the internet for adult gymnastics in Boulder. This is where I should have stopped. My fingers got a workout. After signing a quick please don't sue us when you realize gymnastics is REALLY REALLY HARD I paid my 10 bucks and joined Tuesday Night Tumble. Ready to rumble (OK, I just had to write that). We started by running which again was a clue they were serious.

The finality, however, was worth the lashing -- flips on the bouncy thingy with a padded belt around your hips that is affixed to ropes. I was flip goddess!

I have to go back.

Today I packed up cancer

...Our lives are better left to chance, I could have missed the pain, but I would've had to miss the dance... (Garth Brooks "The Dance")

Exactly eight months ago I paced back and forth at the Boulder Community Hospital getting up the nerve to call my brother, to call my sweetie, to call my friends. I painted on my happy face. I practiced perfect sales technique -- stand, smile, speak. I pretended to be happy. I pretended everything would be OK. I pretended until I didn't need to pretend anymore. And today -- I packed up cancer.

A pill a day keeps the side effects away, and another pill keeps the side effects from the pill that keeps the side effects away, and another pill keeps those side effects away...and a lymphedema sock, thermometer, various secret herbal remedies, and ginger. By god don't forget the ginger! I shan't think that I shall ever eat crystallized ginger again.

I'm ready. Two boobs, check, overnight bag, check, throw away all my bras for life, check. The morning of my double mastectomy. Kristin, I can't think of a more appropriate time to have the memories of our marathon in New York than wearing this shirt to one of my biggest events.

And I woke. I wasn't wearing a cast (good thing!) so my friends signed my "wall". Well, they also took a sharpie and drew happy faces on my knees and ... OK not really, but it would have been funny!

Into every one's life a little hair must fall! 12 inches!

Second chemotherapy. This is fun. I swear! But I recommend signing up for a root canal first.

And then it's over. Seemingly as fast as it began chemo was over and my debut singing "You've gotta have boobs" began.

For the encore, "Staying alive," before my second surgery to replace the sinking water balloon!

And the after hours party I prepared for that radiation glow.

Beam ON! And then it was over -- 6 weeks in the blink of an eye.

Cancer was a journey. Today I looked over at the most wonderful man I know and said -- and believed -- we're not meant to be on this earth to figure everything out, to analyze everything. We're just here to live and have fun doing it.

A gigantic thank you to those that went before me, to my friends that stood beside me, and for all those wonderful people I get to meet in the future. (And to finally writing about something else besides cancer!)

"Almost Done Connie"

I received it in the mail. Purple construction paper with a big red star: Almost Done Connie. Accompanied by photos of friends from Montana, the poster hangs on my fridge. Today I read those words and I know I am almost done.

It is not without an element of sadness. I've grown attached to my nurses, my technicians, my new friends.

I will miss Terry. Deb. Mike. Jennifer. Kathy. Alan. Carry. Gale. Nina. I will miss going to the cancer center. Strange, but true. I will miss having my blood drawn. I'll miss chemo, well not the part where I get sick, but the other part -- talking to Nina, using the IV pole like a skateboard, seeing if it is truly possible to pee every 15 minutes while receiving main-line saline. I won't get the Sarge and Lewis daily updates. I didn't have enough time to talk Mike into seeing the largest tree made solely of poinsettias. I won't see Carry's golden retriever. I won't get to see which pair of cool shoes Terry is wearing or talk to her about all the wonderful things we've talked about. I won't leave radiation waving goodbye to Jennifer, Kathy, and Alan everyday. I may never have another opportunity to sing wearing blue hair in the chemo room. (The Taxotere made me do it!)

In just a few days I'm set free. I'm well.