All's Quiet on the Boobburgh Front

All's Quiet on the Boobburgh Front

By Kathy Reschini Sweeney

After months of anxiety and days of panic, my mind is quiet today.  A quiet brain is not common for my people, so I thought I would write about it in case this happens to someone else.

Friday was one of those days that will remain fresh - like the days my children were born and the day Armstong walked on the moon.  I can still remember details of those days decades later.

Once I got the fantastic news (Hallelujah) and finished making phone calls (including one to the wonderful William at the Square Cafe, who can make a party on three hours notice - love them) I collapsed into napland.

But not before I took of my 'compression bra' (may I just say that the odessey of finding the 'sports bra' that everyone recommended turned into a complete side show of its own, probably because round people like me don't actually do the sports thing).   The steristrips are still there, and I can still see stitches, but I took a good hard look and said, right into the mirror: "Fuck you, Cancer.  Not in my house."  Then I started a victory dance which was stupid because it hurt the entire right upper quadrant of my body, so I settled for flipping cancer the bird and giving it every obscene Italian hand gesture I could remember. I also made some up, but that is another blog.

Then the tangible joy began as the doorbell started to ring.  Most of my dearest friends - and even my brother Joe and his new wife Ree - came to toast and rejoice.  The celebration was truly complete when a couple of my Golden Girls made the snowy drive from Indiana to surprise me!  Everyone from our Chevra was here - and Dr. (okay not officially but soon) Yael even called from Isreal.  At one sterling moment in time, women from all phases of my life were gathered around the dining room table, laughing.  If not for the cancer (henceforth referred to herein as the GFYC) I would not have that memory to treasure.

The whole day was like that.  My family had me on so many prayer lists that I got a call from a college sorority sister in New Jersey to see if I was the Kathy Sweeney they were praying for in the Camden Diocese!  They were all an absoute rock- with one-liners.  I knew, but didn't, y'know - KNOW- how powerful that is until the GFYC, which is odd.  Because I thought I already knew that.

Some people - at this stage and at other stages in their own battle with cancer (oops GFYC) will tell you that the cancer was worth the lessons learned, or that it gave them a new outlook on life.  I am happy for them.

But I can only speak for myself.  Cancer sucks.  Surgery sucks. Losing a piece of you sucks.  Being afraid is a great, giant suck.  Facing mortality at the tender age of 51 is suckage at its worst. See, it even degrades the vocabulary!

Last night, we watched "Return of the King" - one of my favorite movies of all time.  The ultimate triumph of good over evil, with no hedging on the high cost or the grief.  Plus, it has Eowyn, Shieldmaiden of the Rohirrim, which is going to be my new alias if I ever need one.  It was a fitting way to end this section of my journey.

Today, my brain is peaceful.  Snow is lighting falling and everthing outside is still covered in that beautiful white of a new snow.  My family is quiet and happy in our warm house.  My extended family and friends are safe and healthy.   

Life is good in Boobburgh.

How is your life today?

 

 

Comments

[William]

"Return of the King" is okay, but my "getting home" movie was TOMBSTONE. There's a reason for that.

Stroke protocol calls for a list of words to be read off a list which one has to repeat to the doctor, in order for him to gauge cognitive response, facial movements, etc. One of the words was 'huckleberry'. I grinned as best I could at the moment, and yelled "TOMBSTONE!" The doctor paused, then got it, and grinned back. One of the nurses got it, and giggled.

That was the moment I knew *I* was still intact. A little slower, maybe, but still around. SO.... me being me, the first thing I did the night I got home was find the DVD of TOMBSTONE, and watched it.

For all the TLC'rs here, a friend tested my memory by asking "Who played James Bond after Sean Connery?" I instantly replied, "Nobody!" We both laughed long and loud....:)

So happy to hear that you've delivered a *MAJOR* bitchslap to the Big C, Kathy. All of us knew, if anyone could, it would be you, and you didn't disappoint...:)

[Kathy Reschini Sweeney]

Good one, William.

NOTE: Arrgghh. So sorry about the typos. I simply cannot get Typepad to accept changes. I hate that.

[Katie Grindle Marquez]

I am elated that you are FREE- and also excited by the fact that I have connected with another family member via FACEBOOK. I love your blogs, and look forward to your comedy throughout. I work for a Prosthetics and Orthotics Lab in Central PA. We do the post masectomy prosthesis (which thankfully you do not need), but the compression bras look a bit uncomfortable-especially for the larger sizes-which I am-take care Kathy and you are wonderful!
Katie

[debbie]

God blesses us in the most unexpected ways. Prayers for continued good news and good health for you and yours, Kathy.

[Diana in STL]

So glad you are doing well. I really do believe that positive thoughts and prayers make a difference. It may not always be the way we think it will but it does.

I'm happy my niece is recovering from bypass surgery (5) especially since there were complications a few weeks later.

[Annette Dashofy]

I love the quiet, meditative time after a major upheaval. Bask in it, Kathy.

And, William, I love TOMBSTONE, too. Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday is the BEST.

[Karen in Ohio]

Love the idea of bitch-slapping GFYC, Kathy. If anyone coulda done it, that would be you, Rebecca.

William, now I have to watch Tombstone, too. High fives, all around, for our own TLC health triumphs. Elaine was a good role model for you both, clearly. :-)

[Maryann Mercer]

Bitch-slaps are great things! And you certainly did it. I carried the good news with me like a mantra all day Friday and yesterday...it's amazing how it kept things (like rudeness and stupidity) in perspective as I walked the aisles at B&N. I now have this mental picture of a shield-bearing "K" charging into a rather stricken ringwraith "C". You go Eowyn! Wish I could have partied with you...but I did put some beer in the soup I'm making for tonight!

[Storyteller Mary]

Here's to quiet days! Love you, you strong amazing woman . . . hugs!

[Elaine A. Judge]

Enjoy the quiet and peace. Yes, cancer does make you more aware of things and especially the "now."

After radiation treatments, I remember having lunch at the restaurant in the Latrobe airport. It overlooks a beautiful field and then the St. Vincent campus. It had rained and it was early Spring and when the rain stopped, a beautiful DOUBLE rainbow appeared. I got up from my chair and stood by the window watching the sight and waiting until every color diminished. Some older woman walked by and said, "What are you looking at honey?" I said, "A double rainbow." She never even stopped to look for a minute and then said, "There will always be another one to watch--I have to go now." I thought maybe she was late for her flight or just didn't want to take the time to stop. Let's watch all the rainbows and everything else out there that is calling to us.

[Karen in Ohio]

How sad, to think a double rainbow isn't occasion enough to stop and marvel at its beauty.

Let's all promise to take the time to appreciate such amazing moments. Despite that woman's certainty that there would "always" be another one, there is no such guarantee in life.

[gaylin in Vancouver]

A quiet day to enjoy is a gift. I am so happy that they got all the cancer and you have the gift of many more years. Healthy, happy and peaceful.

As they said in the 70's, Keep on Truckin'.

[Meghan Weaver]

So glad you posted. I was getting anxious. I was about to call Lainie. GFYC!

[lil Gluckstern]

It is good to have a quiet day, when all is well, and people are in order and NO Cancer!

[Debby]

....catching up on all of your news. When it is said that laughter is the best medicine, they aren't kidding!

My Friday was quiet in a different way...selection for federal grand jury duty. Sigh. I am alternate #7. To cheer me up, my niece and I went to our walmart for the release of Breaking Dawn and won a bunch of prizes (thanks to my being able to project my voice. LOL!).

Saturday was my quiet day to read and relax.

[kris]

The quiet that comes from a mind at peace is the best kind of quiet. I am so very very glad you have been given this gift. If it were up to me I would have picked another way for you to receive it :-) but it's still a wonderful gift indeed.