Thoughts on Karma, Luck and Voodoo Catholicism

When I visited Tokyo in December, my neice Laurie took Will and I to the famous Senso-ji Temple in Tokyo, where I received a "good fortune" that read:

* Your wishes will be realized. * A sick person will recover. * The lost article will be found * The person you are waiting for will come. * Building a new house and removal are good. * Making a trip is good. * Marriage and employment are all good.*

Here's a shot of my niece Laurie, my son Will and I at the temple:

On the next leg of our journey, we spent New Year's Eve in Chiang Mai, Thailand, where the tradition involves launching a lantern into the night sky, apparently to usher out the demons and welcome in good luck for the coming year. Here's a pic of Andy and Will launching their lantern -

I've also been receiving lots of religious "talismans" from people in my life who want to provide positive affirmations for the surgery on Monday. Here's a photo of my collection, which includes:

- Lucky Buddha necklace given to me by my son Will in Thailand
- Guardian angel bracelet
- Catholic mass cards featuring St. Theresa and Guardian Angel
- Gold angel pin
- Lucky talisman from Senso-ji Temple in Tokyo signifying "one wish"
- St. Anthony and St. William medallions that my sons wore when playing sports

And last but not least, on New Year's Day in Chiang Mai, Thailand I received a woven bracelet from a Buddhist monk who gave me a special blessing for the year, with the promise that if I wore it for 365 days I would live to be 100 years old! (Of course I still have it on but it's looking a bit worse for wear.)

I'm not normally a superstitious person, but with all these things coming my way, there must be some message from the universe for me. So, I'm going to ask the surgeon if I can put all my "lucky" items in a Ziploc bag and take them into the surgery with me. What the heck, it can't hurt.

Add to that ALL the well wishes, prayers, thoughts and positive vibes that my friends and family are throwing my way, and I think I'm in pretty good shape for Monday!

Making an Impact

Since I started blogging about three weeks ago on the subject of breast cancer, here are some things that have happened:

- 14 women have scheduled their overdue mammograms (you know who you are, I'm not naming names) - AWESOME!

- Of those 14, three have been called back for rechecks

- My friend Susan Limoncelli donated $100 in my honor at a breast cancer benefit last week! Thank you, Susan, for your generous spirit.

That is truly the mission of my blog: To educate and raise awareness of the importance of getting annual mammograms, and to give back to the community so that others who are less fortunate can have equal access to annual screenings at no cost. I have a new motto (compliments of Sasha at the St. Joseph Breast Care Center):


SAVING THE WORLD ONE BREAST AT A TIME

Ice in Her Veins

My BFF Mary Lou, who I've known since 1978, has always marveled at my ability to maintain composure during the saddest, sappiest movies. Remember Ali McGraw in Love Story, or Julia Roberts in Dying Young? Everyone else around me is pulling out the kleenex and I'm always the one sitting there stoically dry-eyed. Mary Lou's always joked that I must have "ice in my veins."

Well, all that has changed recently. Now I'm the one with mounds of used kleenex everywhere, and crying has become a part of my daily routine. Not a day goes by that I'm not overcome with emotion -- it can hit randomly when Andy or Will call to check in on me, when I hear amazing stories of courage from breast cancer survivors, when a total stranger hugs me in a clinical setting, when I feel the wet nuzzle of my dogs on my face, when I listen to a powerful piece of music . . . heck, I even started crying in front of the mailman the other day for no apparent reason!

This has been a great release for me. It's part of the necessary but painful process of removing my "strong" mask that I've presented to the world for so, so long. I'm accepting the fact that crying in no way diminishes my strength. I'm confident that my body is ready to fight this battle and that a few tears along the way are just a part of the self-discovery I'm experiencing. My life is enriched by the tears, just as a flower blooms after being nurtured and watered by nature.

I'm reminded of a quote by Anne Morrow Lindberg, author of one of my alltime favorite books, Gift From the Sea: "Woman must come of age by herself. She must find her true center alone." This is a book that I try to reread at least once a year, full of simple wisdom and using the sea as a methaphor for women's lives.

Gearing up for the Big Day

I met earlier this week with Dr. Denise Norton and Dr. William Brown, who will be in charge of my surgeries on Monday, March 8.

Dr. Norton will perform the mastectomy, a one-hour surgery which includes a Sentinel Node Biopsy of several lymph nodes to get a definitive answer on whether the cancer has spread beyond the breast. If not, great news. If so, this will dictate a different course of post-surgery treatment by the oncologist.

Then Dr. Brown steps in to "put Humpty Dumpty back together again." He will perform a 4-5 hour procedure called a TRAM Flap (I know, it sounds like something related to NASCAR). This operation allows you to use your own body's muscle, fat and skin to reconstruct the breast. I like the idea of using my own tissue because an implant kind of creeps me out -- the thought of a foreign object being placed in my body. As my brother Jim would say, "I don't go for implants."

The body fat is taken, interestingly enough, from your stomach (goodbye muffin top!) and hooked up to to the blood supply of the breast and voila! -- they stitch you up and 3-5 days later you are released from the hospital. The recuperation from all of this is pretty major but I'll have my friend Ellen Chandra from California staying with me to help me through the first days.

Here's a video of the women who work at Dr. Brown's office. He is one of the most reknowned plastic surgeons in Denver so I'm putting my faith in him . . .

One question I've been pondering: Why is he called a plastic surgeon? I'm going to research that on the Internet to make sure they aren't planning to insert any Tupperware into my body.

An Unexpected Surprise!

Today was kind of challenging and by the time evening came around I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself.

There's a group of people I get together with every Sunday night in Boulder. As I drove up there earlier this evening in a snowstorm I thought to myself, "Maybe I'm doing too much and I should have cancelled tonight." When I arrived, I noticed one of the women was wearing a HOT PINK sweater with sparkles on it and I thought to myself, "Wow, I wonder why she's so dressed up tonight."

Then I noticed EVERYONE was wearing pink, even the men! I was incredibly touched by their thoughtful and loving way of telling me that they're rooting for me. Thank you to my Sunday Night Group for your love and support and for lifting my spirits tonight. Check out this hilarious video:



We all saw a new side of Shaun (the 6 foot tall macho looking guy wearing the pink tutu)!

Countdown - Getting Ready

For those of you who know me well, you know that I love planning down to the intricate detail level when I go on a vacation. So I'm approaching this surgery just as if I were planning for a big trip.

I'm taking a leave from Cisco to prepare mentally and physically for the surgery. This week I plan to spend several hours a day with my Blackerry turned off and FEEL my emotions (hard to believe I know, some people have asked if I'll tuck it under my hospital gown before the surgery). I need to clear my head and process through whatever comes up.

As one of my friends put it, "There's no emotion around losing an organ such as an appendix or a gall bladder -- but a breast has so many connotations and is connected to your core femininity, childbearing, self image, and of course your sexuality." I'll still be the same person after the mastectomy and the plastic surgeon can make a physically perfect replica, but there's a process of grieving and loss involved that can't be denied.

I know the surgery is unavoidable and necessary for my future health and well being, and by moving through this process and feeling the emotions I will emerge to live a joyful, resilient, and healthy life. Yes, I'll have a few battle scars but they will serve as proud testament to the fact that I've joined the community of survivors who have conquered this disease.

And what the heck, since I'm planning to use my own body tissue vs. an implant, it's like getting a free tummy tuck in the process!

Pac-Man

For all of you Baby Boomers, I'm sure you remember the "old school" video game back in the late '70s called Pac-Man. There was a Pac-Man machine in just about every bar (not that I frequented the bars back then, my friends told me about it - NOT!)

Well, I have a new game that I play in my mind when I go to sleep at night. It's called "Cancer Pac-Man" - I envision those f---ing tumors in my body and picture the Pac-Man destroying them over and over.

My sons will tell you I'm not much of a computer game person nowadays but I must admit that back in the day I was pretty damn good at Pac-Man.