Here

I’ve known her since I was six years old, and she was three. We’ve been friends since we met. It was really by default — our parents were best friends; our siblings were the same age and shared a mutual disdain for us, so we became quick comrades. Our parents gave us the same toys to play with (like dolls and prestidigitation (not magic!) sets) and enrolled us in similar extra curricular activities (like dance classes). For about three years — until our family moved to Florida — we were inseparable.

She and I went to Italy together when I was 22 — a trip we will never forget — and she was in my wedding a year later. Now we’re practically related; my sister married her brother. As with many adult friendships, ours has not included frequent visits over the years I’ve been married, but we’ve been there for each other during the important milestones in life.

During my first fight with breast cancer, my sweet friend sent me care packages from Sephora — if you’ve been following my blog long enough, she’s the friend who sent me eye shadows and mascara and lipstick and masks and nail polish — gifts that allowed me the distraction of doing my makeup and dressing up my face and making me feel feminine during my battle.

When my friend’s mom got sick she helped care for her over four long years while her mother continued to deteriorate. Her mother became a shadow of her former self and it was heart-breaking to watch her go from such a lively and vivacious person to one who barely spoke or smiled. I can only imagine how difficult it was for her family to watch it first-hand.

This friend is a self-acknowledged introvert. We don’t speak about feelings or emotions — she keeps those parts of her deep inside her mind. But she has shown me her feelings and emotions through her actions — from being the ideal bridesmaid (smile and do what the bridezilla says) to sending me Sephora care packages to most recently coming to visit me.

If you remember, I’d met with a surgeon in September who was going to perform a DIEP FLAP reconstructive surgery for me. I encourage you to Google it if you want details of the surgery, but the short version is that the surgeon takes the fat from your abdomen and forms breasts out of it. Long-term results are great, but the recovery is intense and difficult. I was scheduled to have the surgery around Thanksgiving, so my sister was going to stay with me immediately after, and my dear friend was going to follow behind to continue to aid me in my recovery.

The fact that I got sick again and that the surgery was cancelled did not mean that she could not still visit, so she went forward with her plans to come see me anyway. She arrived last Sunday.

I have a confession: I was nervous about her visit. I have not had anyone other than my immediate family around me during my chemo “aftermath” — that is the time after chemo when I crash, sleeping almost constantly while experiencing flu-like symptoms. I wasn’t sure what to do with my friend when I got like this. And she would be here for the entire time I would feel this way.

What I forgot is that my friend — being an introvert — likes the quiet. She also had experience with caring for someone who was ill. I had nothing to be worried about. She didn’t seem to mind at all.

She left this morning, and I’ve been thinking about her visit ever since. Initially I was concerned over whether or not she enjoyed her stay — she can be a little difficult to read. But as I thought more about it I realized that all indications pointed to a successful visit.

We bonded over Pitch Perfect and binge-watched some shows on Netflix that we really enjoyed. She seemed to enjoy the companionable silence as we each read on our tablets. We laughed together — a lot. She loved our dogs and seems to have decided she’ll look for one of her own to adopt. She hugged me tightly when we said goodbye at the airport.

With this friend, I discovered, I just have to pay attention. Watch her face while she’s watching a movie or petting my dogs. Listen when she speaks. Recognize that silence isn’t always a bad thing. And give thought to what her kind gestures really mean. Doing that made this image pop into my head.

4742-ME6

I love this illustration. It’s so matter-of-fact. There is no elaborate explanation or ceremony. No big presentation. Just the word “here” as she hands over her heart. That is my friend and I’m so grateful to be a recipient.

xoxo

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End of an Era

I’m usually the one with all the words. This time, Mama wanted them to share this news. She’s done it beautifully, so I will leave it to her:

We’ve loved these days…

Many of you, our dear customers and friends, know that the younger partner in our mother daughter partnership was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015. Some of you know that the cancer has returned. Unfortunately, Allegra will be in treatment for quite a while and the treatment is no picnic.

The older partner in this arrangement wants to be able to drop everything at a moment’s notice to be available for Allegra. All of the mothers who read this will understand. It is for this reason that we have decided to close our shop, Joli Home Accents.

To paraphrase an old Billy Joel song, we’ve loved these days. We have loved being a part of our charming Bay Street shopping district. We have loved our fellow business owners. We have especially loved you, our customers. You have made Joli a joy to own and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Joli’s last day of operation in 2017 will be Saturday December 23. We will reopen for a five day clearance sale in January. Please check our Facebook page and Eat Sleep Play Beaufort for dates and further information.

Again we want to thank you all for your loyalty and patronage. It has been a privilege and “We’ve loved these days”.

Cheryl and Allegra, The Shopgirls

Good Day, Sunshine

I got the results of my biopsy today. For those of you just tuning in, I have been having some pain in my groin and it was determined that the lymph nodes there were swollen and enlarged. It appeared that the cancer had spread to them; however to make sure, I got a biopsy of the nodes.

They’re NOT cancerous!

Can you believe it?! Everyone was happily surprised (cue the above song in my head). It had really seemed as though the biopsy was a formality and that they must be cancerous, but they’re not!

So what does this mean?

A few things:

  1. The cancer has not spread. I already have the mass in my pancreas and significant lymph node involvement. These have responded dramatically to the chemotherapy. If the lymph nodes in my groin had turned out to be cancer, then the chemo drug I’m on wouldn’t have worked as well as we thought, and we would have to worry about continuous spreading of the disease.
  2. I don’t have to alter or add anything to my chemotherapy regimen. Since they’re not cancer, it means that my chemo drug IS working as well as we want it to, and I don’t need to change a thing about my routine. Adding another chemotherapy drug could have meant additional side effects like losing my hair, lower blood counts, more pain, etc.
  3. I get to stay in my chemo routine. I mentioned this above, but to explain in more detail, we chemo patients learn our routines once we get into a chemo regimen. We learn what days are good, what days are bad, and what side effects to expect. If a new chemo drug is added, it’s like starting over again. We have new good and bad days to adjust to and new side effects to learn and to navigate. Being able to stay in my current routine is much easier on me.
  4. Going forward, I will continue the Gemzar (chemo drug) schedule — three weeks on, one week off. Scans (PET and CT) will be every three months. This will continue until a) the Gemzar stops working, or b) the Gemzar becomes toxic to my body. The end date of this chemo cannot be predicted; we just watch and see what happens.
  5. As far as what caused the lymph nodes to be painful and swollen, we don’t know. And quite honestly, we don’t care because it’s NOT CANCER.

But God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear, but along with the temptation he will also make the way out so that you may be able to endure it.

1 Corinthians 10:13 (NWT)

I am so grateful that God knows our limitations and provides us with what we need to endure different trials. I’m so thankful for this news. It feels like someone just added more time to my timer — took one big spin backwards on the dial.

This is the most optimistic I’ve felt since my re-diagnosis. It’s the first time I’ve breathed a sigh of relief, that I’ve thought of my expiration date as possibly being years away instead of months away. Researching and planning our big trip in June fills me with excitement instead of trepidation.

Today is a Good Day, Sunshine.

xoxo