My Friend, Bern

Bernadette passed away this morning. It's been almost two years since she was diagnosed. She leaves behind a loving husband and five children (ages 2-12 years.)

Many months ago, I went to church and my pastor gave a homily in which he said that none of us can survive in this world alone. He talked about how important friends and family are in life and that we need to surround ourselves with loved ones on our journey. He used the analogy of a flock of birds which fly in V-Formation. He explained that, for a while, one bird will take the lead and provide an easier flight for all the other birds who fly behind. And then, when that bird gets tired, she will move to the back and the next bird will move forward to carry the burden for awhile. When I returned home after hearing this sermon, I wrote to Bern. I told her that we were part of the same flock; that we would always fly together and help each other to shoulder the burden of cancer.

Last week, when I heard that she was not doing well, I wrote her. I reminded her of our pact and I told her that I was so, so sorry that I was never able to shoulder as much of the burden as her. She was never able to move from the point -- I was never able to provide her any relief from the exhaustion and pain of fighting her cancer, and it breaks my heart to think of how much pain she had to endure -- both physically and emotionally -- these past 22 months. In my note, I thanked Bern for the inspiration and determination that she demonstrated, since there were days that I definitely coasted behind her and was able to fly more easily because of her.

I cannot believe that she is gone. I cannot get my bearings -- I just keep crying and crying. I'll write again soon.

Right Brain Rules!!!

I was right!! I was right!! My logical, right brain was right! I am clean!! My CT/PET showed absolutely no sign of any cancer. YIPPEEEEEE!! :)

My Next CT/PET Scan

For anyone still keeping track, today is my next CT/PET scan. I am leaving in just a few minutes for my appointment and I have very mixed emotions....The right (or is it the left?) side of my brain -- whichever side is more logical -- tells me that I feel great and that I am super healthy and strong again. It reminds me that I worked out like crazy while on vacation these past 5 weeks and never once felt too tired or sick to keep going. And it reminds me that I had zero lymph node involvement last year after my surgery and that the cancer cells the pathologist found were "well differentiated" (which is the best scenario possible, for those who don't speak medical mumbo-jumbo). And it reminds me that I fought like freaking hell all last year, and while a noble fight can't save everyone, it definitely helps. Ninety-eight percent of the time, my right brain rules and I feel confident that everything will be just fine. The other 2% of the time, however, my more emotional left brain swoops in. And I am reminded that cancer is arbitrary and ruthless. I am reminded that Rebecca just died of colon cancer and that it's been almost a year since my dear friend, Bonnie, died of cancer. And I am bitterly reminded that my dear friend, Bernadette (the one with breast cancer that was originally diagnosed with lung cancer) is likely going to lose her battle very, very soon and will leave behind five beautiful children when this happens. And it reminds me that my pen pal, Elika (who went through treatment for stage 3 colon cancer at the EXACT same time as me) has already relapsed. In mid-July, the doctors found that the cancer had spread to her brain, lungs and abdomen already. And it reminds me that Tony Snow had a relapse after TWO years and so, even if this scan comes back clean, I am still not out of the woods. And so all of these reminders are what over-ride the logical part of my brain and make me panic.

Right this second, as I head off for my scan, my right brain is definitely in control -- I feel great, I feel confident, I KNOW that the scan will be clean. Stay tuned to see if I am right.

Rebecca

At 1am on Thursday, July 31 my friend, Rebecca, passed away. She is survived by her husband, Dan, and her 3-year-old son, Jacob, and many other friends and family who loved her. If you want to read more about this wonderful friend of mine, please visit her blog at http://www.rebeccajunction.com/.

I am so overwhelmed with emotions right now, I do not even know how to begin to process what I am feeling. I am numb. I am in complete disbelief. How did this happen? How did I lose ANOTHER friend to cancer in the span of only one year? Why does this keep happening???

On the home page of her blog, Rebecca wrote about all the things she is grateful for. Toward the bottom, I was shocked to see that she mentioned me: "Julie is my fellow survivor (and Kellogg classmate) and has been a healer to me in many ways. Thank you Julie for your strength, input and support." I cried uncontrollably when I read this. I wish so badly that I had truly been able to "heal" Rebecca. I cried for the fact that I couldn't heal her and now she is gone. I cried for the fact that she has died of the same dreaded disease that tried to kill me. I cried for the fact that Rebecca was WAY too young to die and that her beautiful baby boy will never feel her loving arms squeeze him tight the way that I hug my own beautiful boys.

I don't even remember what I wrote to Rebecca these past 14 months that gave her strength; all I know is that every time I wrote, I made a point to reminded her that she was still very much alive and not to forget to embrace every single moment. I would remind her to not give up hope until her very last breath, and to fight like hell. Maybe my words of encouragement gave her enough strength to drag herself out of bed on "bad days" long enough to tuck her son into bed for the night. Maybe my words gave her enough strength to wake up in the morning long enough to kiss her husband before he left for work. Maybe my words of encouragement even gave her one more day or week or month of life than she would have had otherwise. Wouldn't that be great?!? I like to think that maybe my words helped Rebecca to stay on this Earth -- in the arms of her loved ones -- just a little bit longer. I hope upon hope that I was able to give her this gift.

Good-bye, Rebecca, you are greatly beloved and will be greatly missed.