Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

I'm pretty sure that it wasn't a day like today, where the sun is shining through the windows and my beautiful girl is playing "Ode to Joy" on the piano just feet away. And I am pretty sure it didn't even occur to me when I made the biopsy appointment that my official "diagnosis day" was going to be St. Patrick's Day. And I know exactly where I was on March 21st, 2011, the day I will always think of as my own personal "D day".

It's been 365 days since I sat at my desk and heard the words "cancer", "Invasive Ductal Carcinoma", "grade 3 tumor", and "breast surgeon". The capable side of my brain had clicked into gear and I was dutifully writing down everything the radiologist said, asking the right questions, knowing that my husband would want to know the details so he could launch his own fact-finding mission.

And then there was the call to Nick, which brought it all to the surface and the second call to my dear friend Ashley who was wired for Ann Arbor breast care doctors and the third to my sisters. And then the numbness of that hour and fifteen minute drive home when I just didn't know what to do, think or feel.

I sit here a year later, feeling like it's been more than a year and in some ways wondering where the time has gone.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.
365 days.
12 months.
1 year.

When people told me it would be a year of my life, I screamed. I was furious. "I don't have time for this! I have a new job! I'm turning 40! It will NOT BE A YEAR!"

But it turns out that it's taking more than a year of my life. There is the year of fighting cancer, of re-arranging your body to keep it safe and re-arranging your life to up your chances of survival. Then there is the next year of your doctor telling you that you have to lose weight, that you have to get back in fighting shape. Yes, fighting shape because you are still fighting. And one year stretches to five and your "illness" becomes something to manage long term.

And the only thing that gets you through, the only thing, the ONLY thing is the love of people around you.

So today I am thinking about those five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes that have moved through my life this year. As I am typing this, the beautiful song "Seasons of Love" from the musical RENT keeps running through my head.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, a year in the life?

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love

Seasons of love
Seasons of love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand journeys to plan
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It's time now, to sing out
Though the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends

If I could to add my own minutes, they would be measured in:

special dinners delivered with love
minty rosemary spray
threats of pink jumpsuits
wigs from friends
Hermes scarves
sisters' love
rides to chemo
hugs from co-workers
cinnamon rolls
special bracelets
I love yous from my children
strength from my husband
curiosity from Kindergarteners
stolen hours at chemo
breakfasts at Zola
understanding bosses
cheers from my wise elders
missing my mom
love of the fuzzle from my niece
laughter
laughter
laughter
thoughts of fairy-dust shooting nipples
worry
sadness
fear
joy
strength
courage
beautiful parties
hugs from friends
clipping shears
coffee between labs and infusion
the smile of lab techs
occluded veins-because they should be
learning to accept appreciation
carpool talks
deep conversations with total strangers
hearing everyone-knows-someone's chemo story
cake appearing out of nowhere
looking forward
looking back
looking forward
looking back
looking forward and forward and forward again.
more things than I could ever describe here

So I end today wondering what this means for this blog. What started out as a quick way to update people on what was up with my health quickly morphed into a space for me to get out what I was feeling about working through treatment and all that went with it. It's been amazingly cathartic for me. But is it over now? It feels incredibly ego-centric to keep writing. Surely this has been enough about me to last a lifetime. Or do I say "screw it" and just keep writing about this next phase of rebuilding my health and not worry about burdening people with more stories? It's hard to decide. Part of me wants to keep writing so that there is a time capsule for my kids to reflect on when they are old enough to wonder what happened in those days. Another part of me recognizes that this year has come to a close. I just don't know. Maybe you could let me know.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand journeys to plan

Here's to the planning. Thank you for every minute...
that I can measure in love.

Episode 3: Where Fran discovers a creepy old man and a new superpower...

A big nap and another big hit of meds and I am in a much more cheerful mood, which as given me the emotional bandwidth to laugh about a few things. It's the little things that matter, right?

Years ago when I was training to be a Pilates instructor, my teacher taught me to really pay attention to the way I hold my body that might increase pain or fatigue. This has been helpful this week, actually, as so much of my time has been sleeping sitting up and moving in a really awkward way and trying to relax those worked up muscles that are running for cover. 

So during this body observation, I realized that I walk around during the day with my upper body slightly rigid with my hands clenched at my sides, much like the small people do when they are learning to walk. I didn't really notice this until yesterday when it dawned on me that I looked like Bob Dole gimping around with that pen stuck in his hand. Of course, then I googled Bob Dole and came up with this Pepsi commercial of Brittany Spears and Bob Dole with all of the exploding bottle tops and Bob watching Brittany in the dark with that rigid pen in his hand during his Erectile Dysfunction advertising heyday and that gamey look on his face and got completely creeped out. And now, thankyouverymuchinternetz, I cannot scrub it from my eyes.

The other thing that this body observation gives me is the notion that I have a new supertool. I am pretty much sure I can deflect bullets with my breasts now. I am also pretty sure Wonder Woman could too, but the television censors wouldn't let the public know. Seriously. It was the cuffs AND the boobs.

On the plus side, there are friends who truly understand...

Me: My new superpower is the ability to deflect bullets with my breasts.
Joanna: Good. I'll stand behind you.
Me: Too bad I can't shoot them from my breasts, eh?
Joanna: That's the next stage when you have nipple reconstruction. You can choose bullets, fairy dust or champagne.
Me: [peeing.]
Me: I think I am going to choose all three. One for every occasion!
Joanna: Great idea. Not sure if insurance will cover all three, but we can pass the hat.
Me: With cuts in the city budget, I am pretty sure they will need me on the force.
Joanna: True. You will be in high demand.
Me: I could be the new Bond girl, saving A2 from harm, seducing evil men only to entrap them with my guns...ha! guns for sure!

This opens up a whole new world of possibilities...

Update:  The fiesty and ever-firey Deb Fisch sent me this knock-out clip. Yes, I like girls of that caliber....bwahahahahahaaaa.  First the fairy dust, then the bullets, natch.