Defining Moments

Thanks so much everyone for the positive comments and encouragement.  Here is the beginning of the next chapter - this chapter is about the first week of diagnosis.  This chapter will require tissues, unfortunately - just a forewarning in case you need a heads up.

Defining Moments

There are times in every person’s life that you just know will be a defining moment.  There have been a few for me in my 43 years.  The day my father died I knew that I would never be the same, nor would my mother or sister.  I knew that I would have to become the support for my mother and take care of my sister.  All of this panned out as expected and even more so to some extent.   Then there is the day I married my husband, my best friend, my soul mate, who has made my life nothing short of a blessing.  The birth of each of my daughters was the end of life as we knew it on many different levels – mostly for the good – bringing an appreciation for every day no matter how hectic or exhausting.

Then there are those moments that you wish were not going to define you, but somehow they still do.  That moment for me was the day I was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer.  

It was the first Thanksgiving since Tim’s mom died of cancer.   We celebrated with both of our families.  Being all together was the only option as it was the first major holiday without her.  It was a very difficult time.  However, throughout the weekend Tim & I proceeded to decorate the house for Christmas.  It is good to have children because they give you a reason to continue with life as usual, even in the face of sadness.

The best part of the weekend was when I was determined to put lights up on the highest part of our roof this year.  You see, Tim is afraid of heights and has never quite been able to make it to the highest point.  After watching our pregnant neighbor up on their roof with her husband (also afraid of heights) on their lawn giving her directions.  I figured that if Sarah could do it, so could I.  If Tim was not going to go up then I would show him that it was possible.   I climbed up from the back so that I could just crawl across to the front and hang over to do the job.  Yeah, right!  I got up there and just froze!  I could not move any farther.  I looked at the cul-de-sac behind me and saw another neighbor outside with her boys – “Look –Jackie’s on the roof!”  It took me over 10 minutes to be able to slide back down.  Boy did I show him how it was done!   Since then, our lights go up over the garage and over the first level only and that is enough spirit for us!  Why is this important to my story of breast cancer?  Well, I do have a stubborn streak - which is not always a bad thing as you will see.  Ask anyone who knows me and has tried to tell me “that won’t work”.  I will do everything in my power to make it work, then especially.  Ninety percent of the time I am right and find a way to make it work.  The other ten percent…well, let’s just say I am still improving on my ability to admit when I just cannot make something work.

November 28, 2005

Monday after Thanksgiving, back to school.   I had an appointment for my annual exam after school.  I saw the nurse practitioner, Kelly Dale, since I was not pregnant and had never had any problems.  It was just a routine check up – you know pap and breast exam.   Never a favorite, but no worries.  I mean I was only 37 and was not even supposed to have a mammogram yet.

Then, as Kelly did my breast exam she went over a certain area several times - slower and slower each time.  I had this very detailed ridge underneath the left breast right where the underwire of my bra hit on the inside of the breast.  Kelly felt a lump that she wanted me to have checked right away.  She said it was very suspicious and made many phone calls to get me in for a mammogram as soon as possible.  The normal wait time was 2 weeks, but they got me in on Wednesday.  Kelly made an appointment with Dr. Tom Smith.  She said that he was a new addition to the surgery department and she really liked him.  His specialty is women’s health.  She got me in to see him on Thursday morning. 

This was the start of the longest week of my life.  Some parts are a blur, and some are just as clear as day.  The drive home was only about 5 minutes.  I called my mom and told her what was going on and that I was very scared.  Then I remember sitting in the van in the garage for several minutes talking with Mom and then just sitting there scared to death to walk in the house and have to tell Tim what was happening.  I went in and Tim was in the kitchen cooking dinner.  Thank God the girls were upstairs at that time because I knew I could not face them yet.   He greeted me with his usual – a kiss and “how was your day?”  I said that I had just come from the doctor and explained the details of the past hour +.    We shared a quiet moment with a long, tight hug.   Then we did our best to go on with dinner and the rest of the night without making our fear obvious to the girls.

Later that night I called my friends Pam & Mary.  They both offered their support and were there every step of the way for the next week and beyond.  Then I mustered the courage to call my sister – my very best friend – I have no idea what our conversation was because that, too, was a blur.  Jodi and I share such a special bond, that telling her was just so difficult – I know that I did, but I do not know how.  

Everyone Has a Story - Chapter 1

Everyone Has a Story

Everyone has a story.  Everything has a story.  Every place has a story.  It hit me today as I am traveling from Seattle where I have lived for the past 15 years to New York where I was born and raised.  That would be “upstate New York” where stores are rare, especially those with any kind of personality, and homes and businesses are literally falling down (which is a very sad thing for me to digest) and everyone knows everyone’s business and this can either be significantly to your advantage or obviously to your disadvantage – not New York City where the streets are lined with fashionable and eccentric stores, and where 8.1 million people share the same 305 square miles, and no one cares about your “business” – it is a fend for yourself place where survival of the fittest is the basic motto for many of its inhabitants.  If I had my choice I would not change a thing.  I’d take the simple, safe, small town over the insanity infested City of New York any day, any time.

As I was making my journey through SEA-TAC airport, I notice a number of things that have just seemed to become a part of our everyday life.  There are some people who are simply naturals at making others feel comfortable, and there are others who truly appear to go out of their way to make people feel uncomfortable.  And we all seem to co-habitat throughout the world so closely that the person to the right of you could be miserable and trying their darndest to bring you into their little world of negativity, while the person on your left is making peace by pointing out the bright side and putting a positive spin on any situation.  It’s like a gumball machine – you know it’s going to be a gumball, but you have absolutely no idea what flavor it will be until it is revealed.   As I think about this metaphor, I have come to realize that these gumball machines have red, yellow and green gumballs (with a multitude of shades and colors made from blending those colors).  It seems as those negative, red gumballs are becoming more prevalent than the positive, green ones.  I mean, I’d say that you would get a red gumball probably 3 out of every 5 gumballs drawn.  That means that I have found that about 60% of the people out there are negative or show more negative qualities than positive qualities… a sad, sad realization.

Take for example, the airline worker first.  There were some who were just so very helpful especially given all the newest changes in baggage checking and security check points.  And then there were those who would just say “let’s go - keep this line moving” or “boarding pass…over there” while abruptly pointing to the lane with the fewest people waiting without ever giving you the courtesy of eye contact.  However, it is the passengers just like myself who I am the most concerned with.  I mean we are all traveling, most of us are checking bags, and all of us have to go through security.   But did we all have to be up at the crack of dawn in order to be here by 7 a.m. and were we all up until 2:30 completing our last minute packing, taking care of children and helping a disabled mother pack for her trip only to be awakened by the 4:30 alarm knowing that there was still so much to do including a much needed freshening/wake-up shower?  And I am sure that there was no one else who was dealing with a broken heart from a crying 9 year old who is just so sad that Mommy is leaving her for a week and a twelve year old who is about to have the biggest celebration of her pre-teen life because the biggest thorn in her side, her constant “Nag”, will be gone if only for a week.  Then comes the realization that all of the “necessary” items I had packed will not fit in the suitcase overflowing onto my floor because I HAVE to bring my water pillow – which I had not emptied yet – or the herniated disc in my neck will make my trip miserable.   Now I need a larger suitcase, so I literally dumped all the necessities into the larger suitcase, and to top it all off , realized that I had nothing fast to grab for breakfast so I don’t get nauseous from the handful of medications I popped into my mouth ten minutes ago, all of which caused me to leave 15 minutes later than my normal 15 minutes late, making the ride to the airport just peachy!  There’s my husband (who actually is the love of my life) pointing out the fact that I am ALWAYS LATE and that I ALWAYS pack at the LAST MINUTE.   No, kidding, now tell me something I have not heard before – like EVERYTIME WE GO ANYWHERE!  I know there is no one here who began their day with such splendor as all that -YEAH RIGHT!!!  The sad thing is, this is just a day in the life at the Zarnick house.

In the crazy lives we all live today we seem to forget that everyone has a story.  Let me say that again… EVERYONE HAS A STORY.  From the family with the 15 year old boy engrossed in his iPod, the 4 year old who is crying probably because he, too, was up far too early, the father searching the news and weather on his iPad and the mom working diligently to calm down her 4 year old so as not to disturb other passengers waiting to board the plane, to the disabled woman who is a getting ride in a wheelchair from the nice, also elderly, man who may be needing his own wheelchair service soon. 

As I look around, I notice so many things about so many people, but they are all assumptions based on the stories I have built in my head not really knowing the real truth about them.  We never really know why that slow, cranky, cashier is the only one working on a busy weekday at the most popular magazine stand in the airport – maybe her co-worker was supposed to work but called last minute to say that his wife had been rushed to the hospital for a ruptured appendix, or his daughter had been up all night with a high fever and they were taking her to the E.R., or maybe she is just the slow, cranky lady working solo at the busiest stand at the airport.  Either way, how has your life been enriched by complaining and whining about the fact that she should have more help.  Obviously she does not, so it is what it is – just go with it or go to a different stand.  Ten years from now will you remember this?  No...  But if she told you her story you might.  So no matter where you are and what has frustrated you, remember everyone has a story, everything has a story and every place has a story.  Some stories were not meant to be shared, and some people are not meant to share them.  Not everyone has that courage and gift of being able to share their story with others.  Some people are more private than others and some stories just are no one’s business.

I believe with all my heart that I was meant to tell my story – well at least this one in particular. With a whole lot of courage and a little bit of what others have called my gift, I am going to attempt to share with you a very personal story, one that I have shared with many of the closest people to me.  It all began the Monday after Thanksgiving – November 28, 2005.  This was the day Kelly Dale, the nurse practitioner at the Everett Clinic in Silver Lake, found the 2.5-cm. lump in my left breast…

Welcome to the journey!

Are you ready and willing to help me write my personal memoir? If so I hope you will join me in the process of completing it. I am looking for followers who are interested in reading about my family's journey through breast cancer and so much more. You are invited to comment your thoughts in general and ideas or suggestions for improvement.

This is a very exciting process for me full of every emotion imaginable - well almost :-)- and my hope is to help people who may be going through the same experience, provide some insight from someone who has been there to both survivors and their friends and family,and most importantly to follow through with the task that I truly believe God is asking me to do.

Please be honest yet respectful of the fact that this is a true story and even six years later, although there has been many good things that have come from it, this remains a painful journey to relive. Look for my first excerpt later on today as we begin our journey together laughing, crying, and hopefully inspiring.