5.29.2018

I'm Here

I'm nearly ten years clear*

I think I'm finally used to it. ;)

(*Clean scope last week! I'll see you this time next year...)

5.11.2017

Hot Stuff, Coming Through...

Other than the whole early menopause thing coming true, things are still good on my end.


Hope you all can say the same. :)

5.02.2016

Nothing New to Report...

...which is just how we like it. :)

4.03.2015

Still Here, Still Healthy.

Until the next time. :)

8.14.2014

FUCK CANCER.

Two people that I met--one IRL, one only online--that had the same diagnosis as I and were diagnosed around the same time as myself recently died, one today, another a few weeks ago.

12.01.2013

So this happened:


That's me on the left with the visor and marathon medal hanging around my neck.

Marathon as in full marathon. 26.2. Yes, I've become that cancer survivor. But then I'm hard pressed to think of a better way to celebrate [now more than] five years being NCED (no current evidence of disease, the closest my onc will get to giving me a clean bill of health).

RAWK.

1.23.2013

Jinx-Proof

I'm overdue in letting you guys know that I'm not just here but good. Clean scopes, clean scans, and the first 5-year anniversary (of diagnosis in Nov. 2007) under my belt.

Just wanted to stop in and let you guys know that while cancer isn't the furthest thing from my mind these days, it's pretty damn close. :)

7.06.2010

Things I Want You Guys to Know

I am doing well. Really, surprisingly well. I don't think about The Troubles or The Troubles II (aka the whole waste of time known as the exercise in futility fertility) much at all, and when I do, I only break down in tears about 10% of the time.

The latest and greatest in Brigita's Busted Body is that I'm seeing a physical therapist to address relatively recent knee pain that may be a result of radiation damage to my pelvis--the knee joint's connected to the hip joint and all that. I'm hoping to get that all tuned up in order to train for a 10K that's taking place in October, as I really, truely aspire to becoming a I-Beat-Cancer-So-Now-I-Run cliché.

In the meantime, I'm taking a rowing class with a local club and am loving the prospect of joining--and racing with--their novice group once I complete the intro class.

There's other physical stuff that's still a work in progress, but I'm learning more about my triggers and becoming more proficient in working around and through other obstacles.

I think I'm finally in a place where I can exist without the cancer cloud following me around everywhere. It no longer colors every action, thought, or breath that I take. It'll be two years ago this August that I finished chemo. It's hard to believe that it's been that long since my recovery is still ongoing, but with this much perspective, I can finally appreciate just how far I've come.

So, yeah. I wanted you guys to know all of that. Because so many of you have been a huge part of my support, survival, and rebuilding team, I didn't think it was fair to leave that huge "Ohhh, I'm BARREN" meatball hanging out there without any sort of follow-up. I mean yeah, I'm still barren and still pretty heartbroken over it, but shit, I'm HERE to be heartbroken, and I should not take that too much for granted.

Okay, fuck, now I just made myself cry. But I'm smiling too. Yeah, I'm complex like that. ;)

5.13.2010

Pulling off a Bandaid or Ripping off a Scab?

More than six months later, here's the deal: I am officially barren.

After several months of talks, tests, and the requisite ramp-up hormones, my ovaries refused to play ball. My fertility doctor was even baffled by the fact that I am (was?) still having my monthlies.

While this isn't exactly news, I am still incredibly disappointed, and possibly even depressed. I desperately wanted to be the exception to the rule. I had consciously put a lot of my get-over-it-and-move-on eggs into a procreative basket. I genuinely thought that it was going to work, as shown by the vast number of people with whom I had shared the news.

Most of all, I thought that getting pregnant would give me the final word in my two and a half year screaming match with cancer. I thought it would fast track my battle for physical autonomy. I thought the birth of a child would be a rebirth for myself.

Clearly, I did way too much thinking and too much hoping and now I'm stuck back in my head, which is still attached to this achy, broken, uncooperative body. God, this blows.