My First Cancer Buddy, a New Necklace, The Walk

My First Cancer Buddy
So, as the news has been getting around that I have the big BC, some of the gals in my ward have asked if I know a certain other gal in our stake who is freshly post-BC. I'd never heard of her. Apparently they spoke of me to her as well, because soon I got a friend request from her on Facebook.

Now, as regular readers of my blog know, the information coming at me about my own cancer is quite enough to keep my noodle busy, and I haven't arrived at a point where I'm capable/interested in reaching out to get details about other people's cancer. I knew that the time would come when I would be capable/interested, but that time just hadn't yet arrived.

My new friend messaged me saying she was there for me whenever I needed someone to talk to. She got it. She was willing to let me make the first move, even though she had so much of value to offer me. I thanked her for offering and that was that.

In a happy coincidence I like to call a tender mercy, this woman and I happened to be at the same house at the same time to pick up our daughters from a birthday party. 

In the entryway, as I was commenting on the cute Candyland themed decorations, I was blindsided by a hug from someone I didn't recognize. Her embrace felt meaningful and, fortunately, it dawned on me who this was. As is often the case with Facebook acquaintances, you know them by some portion or combination of their names as listed next to their profile pictures. The first thing that occurred to me was a terrible mispronunciation of her last name, which I blurted gracelessly: "SCOOBS!" What a goofball.

But I spent the next 45 minutes hearing parts of this woman’s courageous story with Her-2 Positve breast cancer. She is post chemo, post mastectomy, post reconstruction, post cancer. She has been cancer free for over a year. She is about 10 years younger than I am.

I still have much to learn from this generous spirit. I look forward to further discovery with her. She’s buoyant and strong and intelligent. She makes my cancer heart flutter. She gave me a very strong recommendation for an oncologist, which I will be following up on today. But there were two more very valuable take-aways from that initial meeting that I’d like to write about here.

First, well, how do I put this? It’ll sound so odd, but it’s just so NOT now that I have what I have and am facing what I’m facing. Out with it. The woman showed me her rack! Her beautiful, abdominal fat and skin grafted, barely noticeably scarred, cancer-free, breast tissue void, nipple tatted, absolutely natural looking BOOZIES!

I realize, here, that I am a grown woman, with a fairly good grip on what is socially acceptable behavior, and I am surely testing its limits by sharing my enthusiasm for this singular encounter. But you gotta give me some leeway here. My breasts have dominated my anatomy since the fifth grade. All of my sentient life they have been a force to reckon with. This applies equally to wardrobe and conjugal considerations. In short, they are a big part of my very identity, and while I am very happy---even eager---to get rid of them for the purpose of saving my life, I have been very concerned about the effect losing them would have on my psyche.

Meeting this generous woman, who is strikingly beautiful in body and spirit, seeing that the new breastless boobage can be just as fabulous as the real deal, is BEYOND HOPEFUL for me. 

This is my new cancer buddy, Nicole Cable Scoubes (pronounced Scobes, even though to me she will probably always be the Scoobs who showed me her boobs)!

Doesn't she look amazing and powerful? I hope to have that look one day, too.

The second valuable take away from this encounter involved a conversation with her husband. He asked me solemnly, “How’s your husband?” I told him how awesome he’s been for me. I told him he’s been there by my side every step of the way and that he’s my rock. I gushed. This wise cancer husband listened, then with emphasis repeated, "But how is HE?"

He opened my eyes to some truth that is difficult. Dave IS all those things for me. He IS by my side. He IS my rock. He IS the one who laughs when I laugh and holds me when I cry. He is all those things FOR ME. But he’s going through something I’m not. His spouse---the mother of his children---has cancer. He has his own row to hoe in this journey, and I have not been considering that. My friend’s wise husband told me he was only able to get through the journey by having an outlet for his anger. He mountain bikes. Without even knowing my husband, he invited him to bike with him, and if not to bike, then to go to lunch and talk. I am SO touched by that generous wisdom, that wise generosity.

I do see that Dave is stressed. He has so much on his plate, even without my silly cancer issues. I know many of you are praying for me, and for the family. I request that you pray also for Dave, whose difficulties are rather upstaged at this time. He apparently has the strength to support me in spades, but he needs a special endowment of strength to do that plus continue to handle and succeed at the duties and desires that are his alone. He is not a man of faith, but I am certain he can be buoyed by the positive energy you send his way. It is my desire to make sure HIS needs are met at this time when mine are being so generously considered by so many.

My New Necklace
And on that note . . . I want to extend special thanks to a remarkable set of ladies. Two to three times a week, for four hour blocks at a time, I live in a room roughly 6 feet wide by 12 feet long with about 15 other females. The room is the greenroom backstage at our local theater, and the ladies are among the spectacular cast of The Sound of Music. This includes my little Sophie, who is not shy about bragging, "My mom has cancer in her boob.”

I was moved to tears yesterday by a cast member who brought me this 'Courage' necklace:

Her name is Kathryn Main. We are strangers sharing a path for a short time, yet she reached out in this way. I can’t express how meaningful it is to me. I believe she is the catalyst for my entering the fight against breast cancer.

Let me explain. So far, I have just been in the fight against MY breast cancer. In the surgeon’s office Friday there was a display of pink ribbons available for the taking, to be pinned to one’s clothes to make a statement about fighting for a cure and all that. I passed it by. As I have been looking online for supplies for my Boob Voyage party, I have seen many options that include the color pink, the iconic ribbon, and the word ‘cure.’ I have passed them by. For me this has not been about being an activist against breast cancer or an advocate for finding its cure. It’s just been about stumbling through the journey, and hoping to be a survivor on the other end. I’m still not all in, I’ll admit. I’m still stumbling and hoping. But Kathryn helped me to dip my toe in the pool, and I expect at some point I’ll be jumping in.

The Walk
And that brings me to my next amazacular announcement. When I was in elementary school, I used to kiss posters of Scott Baio and Rob Lowe. The Rob Lowe poster was at my house (actually in the playhouse, out back), but the poster of Scott Baio was at the home of one Cici Luppino. We saw John Schneider in concert together, loved each other’s cats and mothers, and essentially saw each other into young womanhood. Here we are in our hay day:

Cici’s mother is a breast cancer survivor. For seven years, Cici has participated in the Walk for the Cure, with her mother as her tribute. This year, Cici announced that she would not be walking, as she had plans to incorporate a fundraising walk into her own foundation and charitable efforts benefiting children with special needs. But she informed me recently that she will be walking for the cure this year after all, this time with me as her tribute.

It boggles my mind. Truly.

Cici must raise a minimum of $1800 just to participate. Of course, there is no upper limit to how much she can raise. I am linking (see below) the page where she tells her story and gives information on how to donate. I will be linking it again in the future as well. The money goes to cancer research and outreach programs that help women like me. Please consider donating if you are able. It is not for me that I ask it. 

It is for cancer. 

It is for the pink ribbon, the ‘cure,’ the scientists who are busy concocting new drugs like the one that will soon block my Her-2 receptors and give me a far better chance of surviving than I would have had a mere 9 years ago.

The water is looking inviting. Join me for a dip?

See Cici's walk-worn feet, read her story, and learn how to donate here.