It is what it is

Every day since leaving BU, I wear the bracelet pictured above.  My wonderful ERC family was smart to remind me of my own words that I would commonly say around the office, "It is what it is".  They contacted Steve to get the navigational coordinates of our building so they could have them engraved inside.  Now, if I could only practice what I preached...

My last day at BU was Friday, May 30 and in what seemed like a flash, I began my journey as a breast cancer patient on Monday, June 2 when I had my lumpectomy and lymph nodes extraction.  During this first week without my BU family, I've been in quite a lot of pain, both emotionally and physically.  Of course, having a buffet of pain and nausea medications to choose from helped to not really have to think about my new existence.

When I woke up on Friday, June 6, I was in some pain, but really anxious because I realized that in this coming week, everyone around me would be "back to normal".  My mother has returned home, Steve and the kids will be going to work and school, and my BU colleagues will be catapulted into presenting orientation sessions, preparing for fall, and enjoying their own summer vacations with family and friends.

I'm not sending out invitations to a pity party (yet).  I know how fortunate I am to have people checking on me post-surgery and will continue to be thankful for the support offered and provided.  What this anxiety is about is that, in my mind, my professional identity fades a little each day.  To look at my cell phone and not have e-mail to check is hard for me - I'm not needed anymore.  Yes, Steve and the kids need me and I'm trying to be the best I can be given the circumstances.  But, it's hard to turn that student affairs switch off - the one that drove me to help a student in crisis or solve a myriad of logistical problems.  I even had a dream about catering orders the other night!  In my mind, I know that I'm being illogical and that this time off will not negate my entire career, but in my heart, it just hurts and it's scary not knowing what lies ahead.

Since my diagnosis, my friend Colleen sends me cards regularly and one just came in the mail yesterday, the classic, "Keep Calm and Carry On".  Perfect timing. That card helped me to get these emotions out on "paper".  I also watched the video for Fun's song, "Carry On" - I always feel better after watching it.  It is, in fact, what it is and writing this has shown me that I have the tools and am learning more to cope with my breast cancer. Professionally, it really doesn't matter what I do in the future, I'll have that much more to offer when it's time to get back out there.

Southern Girl Loves Pittsburgh Boy

Today, I say good-bye to my Boston University family.  Given all that Steve and I have been dealing with lately, I had kind of laughed at the fact that my last day at BU fell on the same day of our 16th wedding anniversary.  Goofy types of scheduling things just seem to happen to us all the time - we have the planes, trains, and rental car bills to prove it.  But, as I've been reflecting on my time at BU and my overall professional career path, it's actually quite fitting that I would celebrate my marriage to Steve on this day as well. He has been by my side for 20 years and I couldn't have accomplished my professional goals without his love, support, and encouragement.

One of my fondest memories with Steve was taking drives in his old Chevette listening to music (there was a whole lot of Rush and Jimmy Buffett tapes).  Since he was 16, his cars offered him a way to escape; I knew his car was a special possession to him.  When, without hesitation, he gave me the keys to his car so that I could do an internship at Mary Washington hospital, I just knew we were going to be partners for life, in good times and in bad.

I say good-bye to BU today and hello to my new job of fighting cancer on Monday.  I love this picture of us because it reminds me of how our story began and the love that sustains us through all the ups and downs.  I am beyond thankful for my family and friends and know that the journey ahead will be filled with light, love, and laughter.

Steve,

It has been an honor being Mrs. Virginia Ann Bounds Schaffer.  I love you and I thank you. 
Save the last dance for me ;-)

Love always,
Gin

The Facts of Life

I've had the theme song of that oh-so-great 80s show, "The Facts of Life" in my head for the past few days.  "You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have, the facts of life" because I think it was easier to believe that what has transpired these past couple of weeks was something straight out of fiction.  A friend of mine suggested I chronologically detail recent events since, well, they do have a Law&Order-like feel to them.

To re-cap from previous blog entries, it was February 19 when I had a successful neurosurgery and began my recovery as best as a working mother of two could possibly hope for; the tumor was benign, but I had definitely fooled myself thinking I'd be up and around sooner.  On March 26, I publicly announced that I was leaving my position at BU and moving back to Virginia.  Then, on April 7, I didn't know it yet, but I was about to start a journey like no other.

On April 7, I had a blood pressure reading of 144/205 and knew I had to go to urgent care (which quickly became staying in the ER until about 1am).  Although they cleared me for any cardiac/pulmonary issues, they did tell me that since I was still complaining of breast/chest pain and that there was an inconclusive reading on one of the x-rays, I should follow-up with my primary care physician sooner than later.

The follow-up appointment on April 9 focused on a "baby" blood-pressure medication protocol, but also put more immediacy on rescheduling an annual exam with my OB/GYN that I had missed back in August when I had viral meningitis (something I assure you is far worse than a pap smear).  We were in Virginia (April 17-22) to celebrate Easter and to check housing options in Fredericksburg as well as show the kids their new schools.  We had a great time and being there made me feel good about our decision to move. I felt like someone dumped a Gatorade-sized bucket of iced cold water on me when on April 24, my OB/GYN discovered a lump in my right breast.

I was scheduled for a mammogram, ultrasound, and other tests on May 1 which confirmed that the lump was in fact solid, not something they could instantly rule out as benign.  I knew something was up because I was taken in and out of a lot of rooms, underwent a lot of tests, and then was asked, "Do you have any other plans for the day?"  Why yes, I do.  I want to return to Boston to say good-bye to my students, I have Red Sox tickets to pass off to a friend and, we have a couple of houses to get on the market.  How was I going to fit these interfering, albeit wonderful "we are all about the boob" doctors into my life?  So, here's the play-by-play:

On May 7, my mother-in-law's house went on the market in Pittsburgh.
On May 8, our house was professionally cleaned while I underwent various biopsy procedures.  I was then told it was likely the mass was cancerous.  I went to a hotel with my mom.
On May 9, Steve and his siblings received multiple offers on the house in Pittsburgh, we got our house on the market and had requests for showings within minutes.  I went back to the hotel with my mom.
On May 10, Anna turned 3 years old!  Jack went to his tee-ball game and Anna had a great birthday party.  Roughly 7 showings occurred at our house.  Mom and I should have just bought the hotel.
On May 11, Mother's Day and I ate my favorite bagel in the world.  We accepted an offer on our house.
On May 13, I received official confirmation that I have breast cancer.

Today, Steve and I met with our informative and supportive surgical oncologist team.  We left with visuals, outlines, and resources to help us best understand my diagnosis.  I have Stage I Invasive Ductal Carcinoma - HER2 positive.  I will have a lumpectomy on June 2 proceeded by a year's worth of chemotherapy, radiation, and various medications.  I am sad, I am disappointed, I am angry, but I know that what's important to remember is that we left our doctor's office with treatment options.

It's going to be a tough road, but at least I have a road to travel.  Be kind to one another.

Spring Break Throwback

Due to my health issues this year and pending move back to Virginia, we decided not to take our annual SEC spring break trip this year.  So, I decided to post my journal of the first trip we took in 2012.

Because it’s never too early to tour college towns…

Taking toddlers on an annual tour of college campuses sounds, well, like over-the-top helicopter parenting. But, as our ESPN buddy Lee Corso would say, “not so fast my friend!”  These trips started out as a whimsical idea to tour Southeastern Conference (SEC) sports meccas, but these trips have become cherished journeys filled with love, laughter, and life lessons.

When Steve and I realized that we’re in for many years of spring break school vacations and juggling work schedules, we figured, why not take a trip?  Why not do something different?  So, as the crazy sports fans we are (and those we’re creating in our son, Jack and daughter, Anna), we thought, an SEC tour sounded like a great idea.  Why SEC?  We used to live in Gainesville, Florida and are huge Gator fans, but actually, have found ourselves loving all SEC schools (which is actually something I shouldn’t put in print).

Our first trip was in the spring of 2012 and we headed down to Alabama – our son was and still is crazy about Alabama’s Crimson Tide, we don’t know why other than they were winning a lot at the time.  Of course, we were nervous about flying, you never know if the kids are going to be calm or complete crazies. Luckily, a wonderful couple entertained us for the flight from Charlotte to Montgomery.  The gentleman was quite taken with Jack’s affection for Alabama – while waiting for our luggage; he gave Jack his Crimson Tide hat.  Wow – talk about Southern Hospitality!

We arrived in Montgomery, tired as any family is when traveling, and headed straight to Dreamland BBQ. Lesson #1 – There is no such thing as a kid’s menu at a true BBQ joint.  This was ridiculously delicious BBQ; the kids survived on cornbread and whatever snacks I had in the bottom of my carry-on.  But, no worries, we found some classic chicken tenders later at a fun little place called Jack’s.  

We had to get back on the road to head to Tuscaloosa and check-in at the Hotel Capstone (University of Alabama’s hotel).  We hope to continue staying at university hotels because the college and town history that is displayed through photographs, artifacts, and other artwork is simply wonderful.  It was impressive and kind of sweet actually, to see the community’s allegiance to the Houndstooth pattern worn by their forever beloved football coach, Paul “Bear” Bryant.  It really does look good on anything – a scarf, a lampshade, dog’s leash; really, ANYTHING.  As the sun was setting, we took a lovely tour of the campus.  This is where a Southern school truly shines with its grand architecture and beautiful landscaping.  THEN, we arrived at Bryant-Denny stadium – an enormous shrine to all that is Alabama football.  This was serious – they even had their Admissions Welcome Center inside the stadium.  I’ve never seen Jack smile so big – this trip was just getting better and better.

Friday morning in Tuscaloosa and we were about to have the best breakfast of our lives!  In the shadows of the football stadium stood Rama Jama’s – it has all the makings of a neighborhood institution.  We figured before heading to our next location, we’d try to get a closer look at the stadium.  Lesson #2 – Always, Always check the spring football game schedule.  This is when football teams test themselves in a scrimmage type of game and get their fans excited for the upcoming football season.  The stadium was on lock-down for the game the next day – the lady we spoke to almost broke the rules to let us in – she was impressed that we had come all the way from Boston to see the campus.  Jack was disappointed, so Steve and I agreed to never mention getting inside a stadium again.  Good-bye, Tuscaloosa.

Another thing you should know about us is that along with being crazy sports fans, we long for the island-time, Jimmy Buffett, Parrothead lifestyle, so we just had to check out the Gulf Shores (and see for ourselves the infamous Flora-Bama bar that gave oh-so-many musicians their start).  We had a great time at the Perdido Beach Resort in Orange Beach – did all the typical beachcomber activities of swimming, playing miniature golf, and go-karting.  Lesson #3 – If your child is recently potty-trained, go ahead and keep him in swimmer diapers as to not embarrass yourself with a “Baby Ruth” incident on the pool deck.  To tap off our beach trip, we had to go to Jimmy Buffett’s sister Lucy’s restaurant and marina - LuLu’s.  We ate some really good fried okra, jalapeno hushpuppies and grilled shrimp…and a cheeseburger, in paradise of course.

We said a fond farewell to the beaches and headed back north toward to the college town of Auburn and home of the Auburn University Tigers (and War Eagle) – fierce rival of the Crimson Tide of Alabama.  This was a quintessential college town and the Hotel at Auburn University did not disappoint with their lobby, rooms, and conference center stocked with history.  We learned that the restaurant in the hotel was an Italian restaurant run by an Italian professor who takes students to Italy on study abroad trips and then has those students work in the restaurant.  The campus was lovely as we expected it to be – the stadium had somewhat of an understated class to it – nowhere near the brick after brick shrine of statues at Alabama. Still, it was a nice stadium and clearly, football and championships were important.  We also went to the university’s art museum – a nice museum with a beautiful Dale Chihuly chandelier.

The best and unfortunately, sad part of Auburn is Toomer’s Corner.  Home to a fantastic, old-timer drugstore, Toomer’s (pictured below), famous for homemade lemonade and Toomer’s trees – a staple in post-game, commencement celebrations.  Unfortunately, a misguided Alabama fan poisoned these trees and despite exhaustive attempts to save them, they will be removed in ceremonial fashion after the spring game on April 20, 2013.  We might be crazy sports fans, but this was just a sad display of fan-dom gone wrong and hopefully, the Auburn community will find a new way to honor the trees and all that is the history of that special corner.  We didn’t go into details with Jack about what was happening to the trees, but I do think, one day, it will be an important story to tell because winning isn’t everything.

We headed back to Montgomery to catch our flight back to Boston – reflecting on all that we did and hopeful for the adventures to come.   Back home, I sat at the dining room table working hard on organizing our photos to complete a photo book of our trip and in the background, I was serenaded by Jacks’ cry of “Roll Tide” and Steve’s retort of “War Eagle” – and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Kentucky, Ole' Miss, Mississippi State, and LSU are up next!

Warp Speed

Jack was home sick today - a horrible stomach bug that had us up all night.  He's doing fine now - a classic 24-hour "ick" as my neighbor would say.  He really hasn't been feeling great since the massive dumpster and Pod arrived at our house on March 28th -- our big, little guy got catapulted into the reality that we are, in fact, moving.  We've never moved with kids before and despite our best efforts to talk to the kids, prepare them for the move, I don't think you're ever prepared to face the fear and anxiety of a 5-year old.  Especially, when I haven't really dealt with it myself.

It's ironic that of all days to be home sick, Steve was home helping the contractors make decisions about various repairs we needed to do before putting the house up for sale.  I think my face turned a shade of green - maybe because I'm getting sick too, but I think it's because for the first time since making the decision to move, I really felt it.  I looked around the house thinking, this is really happening, I AM leaving BU and we ARE moving to (back to) Fredericksburg, Virginia.

The thing is, I hate moving.  I don't hate the adventure of moving to a new place.  But, getting me to pack is like trying to herd cats.  Steve, because of necessity to keep his sanity, has always taken over the whole moving process because he knows I take my baseline level of craziness and kick it up a notch or two.  Looking back at all the moves we've done in the past, I've come to recognize that my anxiety was about the amount of stuff that needed to be moved and my emotional attachment (whether valid or not) to the things we accumulated both as individuals and as a couple. Also, and this is where I get so frustrated at myself and my controlling behavior, I didn't like how Steve packed or cared for his stuff -- what wasted energy!

When I got home that Friday evening when the dumpster and Pod were delivered, Steve was getting right to the task at hand of packing because that's who he is, that's what he does.  I, of course, had a flash-flood of emotions right there on the back porch and before thinking, accused him of not telling me this was "on the schedule."  Then, I realized we weren't by ourselves, the kids have to see me be part of this process so that they feel safe and secure about it.  It wasn't easy making decisions in that moment about what we are packing away, throwing away, and donating - and I'm now confronted with making these decisions on a daily basis.  These past 8 years in Boston, at BU, have truly taught me that things are just things and the quality of life that we are striving for with this move is far more important than any material possession.  Through this process, I've felt really good about contributing to an upcoming yard sale and donating to our local library and Veterans' association.  I imagine Steve is in a bit of shock to see me be this helpful - of course, I did tell him he had to save some of our old cassette tapes.  There's nothing like a little Erasure to get you moving!

I am my father's daughter...

After my father passed away, if I was telling someone a story about him and tried to describe him, I would often say, "if he walked through the door right now, you'd know he was my father."  I have his height, his fair complexion, and his hair.  If you've been reading my previous posts, you know that my father died of various medical and psychological complications - becoming insulin dependent and battling high blood pressure were just a couple of his chronic battles.  As I got older and slightly wiser through my own recovery process, I tried to be mindful of my own genetic risks when it came to diabetes and high blood pressure.  I generally did pretty well when it came to glucose tests.  I was super proud of myself when I passed the 1 hour and 3 hour gestational diabetes tests when I was pregnant with both kids.  I remember drinking those hideously sweet orange glucose test drinks and thinking about dad, almost angry at him for the traits he may or may not have passed on to me.  It's funny how I was always focused on the diabetes because it was such an overt, chronic disease in that I watched him check his blood sugar and give himself insulin shots.  But, it's so true about high blood pressure - it is the silent killer.

Even though I have been on a roller coaster ride of anxiety and depression for many years, surprisingly, my blood pressure has always been normal, even a little below normal.  Well, I'm in for a new fight that I was in no way prepared for -- my blood pressure readings have been consistently in pre-hypertension and stage 1 high blood pressure for a month now.  I'm trying to be realistic in that this has been an unprecedented month for me because of my neurosurgery, anyone would be stressed, right?  But, I can't stop thinking about my father and wonder if this just good old-fashioned genetic code at work.  Of course, all this wondering and worrying certainly won't make that blood pressure monitor read any different!  On this first day of spring, even if the weather isn't ready to make some changes, I think I might be.  I think I might just have to be.

"No One Can Ever Take That Away From You"

That's me in 1973, in my dad's arms with my beaming sister, Mary Susan nearby.  My sister and I had a father who worked extra hard to make sure we felt loved.  My dad's father died when he was 14, his mother eventually became institutionalized due to mental illness, and his older brother committed suicide - in today's time, his suicide would have been attributed to PTSD due to serving in the war.  I don't think my dad ever fully grieved his losses - it certainly would explain his own troubles with addition.  I am my father's daughter and I often wonder if I've been carrying that guilt and grief around too (both his and mine).  He did have his flaws, but he was my dad and he had such a gift for making everyone around him feel special; I really miss watching the Southern Gentleman work a room.

My dad was a proud Veteran and often had little sayings related to his military service.  Whenever we accomplished something, he would say to us that we've earned a badge and "no one can ever take that away from you." I had been having lots of mixed emotions about my recent neurosurgery and I had been thinking a lot about my dad, wondering what he would have thought about all my medical struggles over the years.  I just needed that boost that only Garland Clement Bounds could give me.

When I arrived for my pre-op a few days before surgery, I really connected with the Nurse Practitioner who was ensuring all my tests were complete and everything was set for my surgery.  We had shared a couple of stories, she told me her brother-in-law had just had the same procedure and was doing great, she made me feel at ease and I could feel my tension easing up.  At the end of our appointment, she said, "You are in good hands, you will do fine, getting this osteoma out will be like a badge, a badge of courage."  I couldn't believe it - I remember feeling my whole body slip down a bit on the exam table, like some kind of comedic pratfall. I walked out of the examination room and said quietly to myself, "Thanks for coming with me, Dad, I really needed that."