Follow Up With My Surgeon

I got pretty much the best I could hope to hear last Friday in my follow-up appointment. Screen Shot 2017-04-23 at 6.49.48 PMI did ask Bryan if he thought there was any chance that Dr. El-Tamer would tell me this was all a big mistake and there was actually nothing wrong with me. Bryan said not a chance in hell. Mass was 1 cm and my surgeon said he got clean margins. Very minimal (a trace he said) in one node which he removed, but that makes it stage 2. That’s the good news.  It is small and only present in one lymph node.

The bad news is it is high grade and necrotic. This means it is growing fast. As explained to me, the best course is to treat this with chemotherapy. Since it is growing fast it tends to respond better. If the tumor was limited to the breast, and not aggressive or invasive just radiation after surgery would have been proposed.

So . . . how do I feel?  Except for the ugly scars, I still don’t feel like someone with cancer.

I am healing well but a slight allergic reaction to the stitches. That should be fine. I can swim and I can bike outside but I can’t run for about two more months. No bouncing activities because of the surgery. I can do pretty much anything else except lay on my stomach. I meet with the chemotherapy oncologist on Thursday, April 27 and the radiation oncologist on Monday, May 1st.

My feelings — this Thursday is when the shit hits the fan — a treatment plan will be reassuring on one hand but scary on the other.  And it means this is all real.

Here’s what I woke up to this morning.  Thank you Erin, you made me cry.  But it in a good way!

“Today, I race the first of many races for my friend, Moira Easton Horan, since she is busy beating cancer! The red flower represents strength, and she is one of the strongest women I know! Your flower is coming, Moira! I picked it up yesterday 🙂
#teamcoeur2017 #hardcoeur #cancersucks
— with Moira Easton Horan.”



Thank you all so much, please keep the thoughts and prayers coming 💕💕



The Boston Marathon 2017

Four years ago today I ran my third Boston Marathon and was blessed to be able to finish.

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I qualified again and ran Boston in 2014 and in 2016 and was supposed to be running it for the sixth time this year.  Instead, this Monday I will be in my surgeon’s office for my follow-up appointment and hope to find out more about what is to come for me and my treatment plan.


I’ve been thinking all week about so many of my friends and teammates from the Jersey Girls StayStrong Multisport Club, my Coeur Sports Team and my other fellow Newton Running Team members.  And truth be told, right now I’m feeling a little sorry for myself.  But, I will be thinking of each one of you on Monday and wishing that I was out there running with you.  If it’s your first, or your fifth or your twentieth — soak in each and every moment of it.  I love the excitement of Boylston Street in the days leading up to the race.  I love the energy at the race expo and number pickup and seeing friends from all over the world.  I love everything involved in Marathon Monday . . . . . getting to the start, hanging out in the athlete village waiting for my wave to line up, and running every step of the way.  Especially after the bombing in 2013 I made sure to look in the faces of the spectators who still come out and cheer for us, whether we were in the first wave or the last wave.  I love the signs and the families, the kids, the senior citizens, the college students and the music.  I even love the pain of the hills, and actually look forward to Heartbreak Hill.  Because it meant the hard part was behind me and I could look forward to the firehouse where my husband always watched for me at the window, and then the turn onto Boylston Street and that stretch to the finish line.

I wish each and every one of you the best day you can have.  I have one small favor to ask if you are running — when it gets hard, run just a little bit of it for me and I’ll do my best to get you to the finish!  902005_10152760851595521_1103218482_o


Surgery is Behind Me and Other Good News

The really good news came on Thursday morning — my genetic testing came back negative!  This was something that was building inside me each day since the test.  I was convinced the test would come back positive and I would have to make some hard decisions on surgery which would be much more serious than the planned lumpectomy and also involve a much longer recovery process.  My mother died of breast cancer in 1977, she battled for 10 years and was 53 when she died.  Horrific traffic on Thursday morning made it likely that I was going to be late for my first appointment of the day with my genetic counselor so I called her.  When she said “don’t worry about it — our appointment won’t be very long” I felt like a huge weight was lifted off of me.  We changed that appointment to later this week to discuss further but I don’t have any of the genes and that means neither does my daughter.

The rest of the day’s appointments — all part of my “new normal” — included a lot of mammography pics and needle pokes and even a card to show security if I get stopped at a bridge or tunnel or airport — seems I was radioactive for a few days. IMG_3049
With the genetic issue taken off the table and seeing so many children’s beds and stretchers in the halls really made what I’m going through feel way less overwhelming.  One of my nurses recognized me and we went on to discuss triathlon, she’s done quite a few triathlons herself.

Friday morning arrived all too quickly.  I carefully drank the 12 ounces of liquid I was allowed which meant one glass of water and one small cup of coffee.  Off to the MSK Josie Robertson Surgery Center for my 8:45 AM scheduled arrival time. (I’m not dyslexic but I keep seeing this as “JSRC”).  This almost felt like checking into a hotel — beautiful facility and extremely gracious staff.  My pre-op room was on the corner with huge windows overlooking the East River and the 59th Street Bridge.  Brought back so many good memories of being part of the SEA Paddle around Manhattan on my stand-up paddle board and running over that bridge many times in the NYC Marathon.    I mentioned something about the SEA Paddle to my nurses and suggested they should check the date for this year and watch for the paddlers go by.  Seemed one of the nurses had seen it from her apartment and was familiar with the event.  Well, one thing led to another and it turned out they both hope to do a triathlon one day.  I introduced them to the Women for Tri Facebook group and we had a great time talking about how to get ready to get to that start line.  All of this meant the time passed very quickly and it was time for me to walk to the operating room.

Wow, it seemed to me there must be several people who would be getting operated on in that room — it was huge!  So many people and machines.  Only one place for someone to lay down though.  I was greeted so warmly by my surgeon, Dr. Mahmoud El-Tamir.  He asked how I felt and when I said I was relieved after the genetic testing results he said he was never worried about them.  I hope he’s right about everything.  I remember sitting down, being told I was getting something to help me relax and the next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room.  IMG_3060

I was told that I could “resume normal activity” in 24 hours, among my other discharge instructions.  That really made me laugh and I tried to explain what my previous “normal” activity was.  She modified that with “use your judgment and don’t push”.  I specifically asked about swimming and she said yes.

My surgery started at 10:15 AM, by 12:35 I was starting to be discharged and we were in the car driving home at 1:15 PM the same day.

Saturday was spent mostly at home relaxing and catching up with some friends and family.  I took a very short and slow swim on Sunday but decided against swimming today.  I got a call from my surgeon’s office this morning.  She asked if I was doing my exercises and I said that I had taken a short swim yesterday and she stopped me and said absolutely no swimming till after my April 17 follow-up appointment with my surgeon.  My prescribed exercise routine includes deep breathing, shoulder shrugs and reaching my arms straight up.  I’ve done them a couple of times today with no problem.   In addition to some easy spinning on the stationary bike and some walking on the treadmill.

Among the best advice I’ve gotten is from my friend, Kyrsten.  Make myself a training plan for my recovery.  Work less.  Sleep more.  Really focus on my eating.  Deep breathing, shoulder shrugs and arm reaches.  And bide my time till my April 17th appointment with my surgeon and then my April 27 appointment with my oncologist.  She is a specialist in the wild card of the “triple negative” part of my diagnosis.  I’m trying not to read too much online about treatment before my appointment with Dr. Tiffany Traina.  It’s her specialty and I can’t imagine I’m going to find out more than she can tell me by searching online.    And all these things are hard to accept as part of my vocabulary.  Part of the “new normal”.

I feel like this is a very boring post but I wanted to bring anyone who’s interested up to date with what’s going on.    Let’s get from here to April 17 with as much good energy and healing as I can muster.



Reality Hits. Hard

So, as any of you who are friends with me on Facebook or Instagram know, this has been an amazing week of vacation for my family and me in the US and British Virgin Islands.  And I’m sure many of you have also figured out it has allowed me to have a certain amount of detachment from my diagnosis and what lies ahead.  This all couldn’t be as serious as the little bit of reading I’ve done online, could it?  I still feel great, I can hike. I can run, I can swim.  I can even save 78 year old Dottie from Southampton, who cramped and couldn’t handle the wind on her standup paddleboard.   I pushed her and her board for a good 500 yards, an unplanned anaerobic addition to my second swim of the day. She was grateful and lovely, and I was happy to help. So really, how bad could this be? A mistake maybe?

I had my Team Coeur kit for 2017 with me and thought about wearing it, but felt that my “Heart and Courage” kit was appropriate for my last run before starting the attack on the unwelcome parasite who’s inhabiting space in my body. 

Well, lets fast forward through the rest of the day and get to the airport the next afternoon. Our flight is delayed, we are sitting at a very crowded bar having a drink that I shouldn’t be having. My phone rings, I look and recognize the Memorial Sloan Kettering exchange so I answer. It’s a doctor who asks if I’d be part of a study of women with triple negative breast cancer. He begins to explain the difficulties in treating triple negative and how this will all be part of my pre surgical and surgical procedure. And I cut off the conversation and ask that he email me the information because I just can’t process it. And all of a sudden it hits me hard, in the middle of this crowded airport in the tropics, that I have cancer. And I have tests scheduled for tomorrow. And a surgery scheduled for Friday. And one way or the other, the course of my life has changed. And the course of treatment is going to suck. And even my surgery could become much more radical than planned at this moment. 

How do I feel about possibly needing a double mastectomy? How do I feel about losing my hair? How do I feel about chemotheapy, filling my body with poison? Radiation? All I know about radiation is my mother had burns on her back from radiation. I know I don’t want to leave my husband, or my daughter, or the grandchildren I hope to have one day. I don’t have any answers, or any control over what’s to come.  

But, just like Scarlet O’Hara, who I’ve identified with my whole life . . . tomorrow’s another day. And I just said to my husband, maybe I can set my sites on doing the Atlantic City Triathlon?  Even if I’m dead last in the sprint, it’s a start on the road back. I’m hoping DelMo can find room for a last minute entry?  I just need to get through what’s ahead.

Checking In

Our family vacation to St. John was scheduled randomly and quite a few months ago.  I am now even more certain that there really are no coincidences.  This trip couldn’t have come at a better time.

There is so much that I am learning and understanding and accepting about my family.  First off — my daughter Mary.  She has stepped up and taken charge of so much on this trip.  I’m so proud when I look at her and see the beautiful woman she has become.  And, grateful for the meals and such that she has put together for us.  She’s done an outstanding job and I’m gratefully taking second chair.

Next up, my son-in-law Ryan.  I’m used to being the one in charge.  Doing the research  Deciding on the next day’s adventure.  I’m grateful to pass the mantle to him.  He has made this an amazing trip.  He’s handled the logistics and the research and the driving and so much more.  Each day has been better than the last.  And once again I’m happy to take the back seat.

And my husband Bryan . . . . . what can I possibly say.  I look around each day and say thank you to him for the life we have.  Those of you who have known us for a long time will appreciate this the most — we are more blessed than I can possibly put in words.

I can’t say that I have ever “forgotten” what lies ahead but hours go by here that allow me to enjoy just living in the moment and soaking in the beauty around us.  Reality will be here soon.