That damn race

She did it! She did it! She did it!

Janis did it: she ran that whole damn race! In her snazzy new Minuzos she zigged and zagged with her friend Ann, who drove from Madison to run with her, to complete the 3.2 mile course through the neighborhood around the Mall of America (I know, I didn't know there was one there either). It was a cold morning and the wind was unrelenting, certainly not ideal conditions for a first race (of many??!), but she did it anyway. She did it because she could. I am so proud of her!

We had a lovely contingency at the event: Billy and his friend completed the run, Amy, Mom and I walked the outdoor route and Ann's Mom did the indoor route (rather more sensible on such a cold day). In total, the number of pre-registered participants for the day was 40,000. Amazing.

My friend Maria and her sister walked as they do each year in honor of their Mom. Some walked with a list of names pinned to their backs of women they were walking in support of; others walked in memory of a loved one. There were groups of people dressed in matching outfits and carring placards to show support or to keep a memory alive.

If you're a cancer survivor you're given a special pink shirt and pink hat to wear. With each year of survival you get another pink ribbon to add to the hat. There were a number of women whose hat brims were full of ribbons, something very hopeful to see.

It was, however, overwhelming to see how many women had died. There were a number of family groups who were wearing t-shirts printed up with a photo of their loved one on the back. So while walking the route you're faced with the pictures of those who haven't survived. Young and old, moms and grandmas, sisters, friends- there they weren't. Since then that's been very much on my mind.


The weekend was a very full one indeed. It started with the six month post-surgery check-up at the Mayo on Thursday and Friday, our a cappella group's spring concert on Saturday, the walk on Sunday morning and the final spring concert on Sunday afternoon.

On that Thursday I had the first mammogram since the diagnosis last year. It felt a little like the first date after a bad date: the hopes for the current experience are colored by the last. 'Pleeeease, let him dress appropriately' or in this case 'please let it not hurt'. Thankfully, this was mostly true.

Whenever it's possible I ask to see the images. I'm right in the room when they're collecting them for goodness sake and it's very interesting to be able to see one's insides. During the mammogram I was reminded that there were seven metal clips left in the breast. Not to worry, I've been assured that it is medical grade metal and won't set off the alarm system at the airport.

The breast MRI was scheduled for Friday at 6:30am which is really quite early in the day for any activity. The Mayo doesn't even open until 6:30am so there were many other patients waiting to be let in. It was like we were at a theme park anxiously awaiting the gates to open and, when they finally did, we rushed in to be the first in line at our favorite rides.

One woman ran to the bank of elevators as if, when she arrived up at the appointment desk, she'd be denied access for being late. I can assure you I did not run.

The MRI emanates some very loud noises. For those of you who haven't had the opportunity to experience it there's a low, constant background sound much like the hum of a bagpipe, some intermittent click-click-clicking and a higher whirring sound that even with ear plugs is hard to tune out. In spite of all that and the IV for injecting the contrast I was able to take a little nap. Clearly I'm getting acclimated to the world of medical testing. Well, that and the test was at 6:30am...

It was during the breast MRI last year that the enlarged nodes under the arm were identified. This time around there was a spot that needed further analysis. After the 9:45am appointment with Dr. P an ultrasound was scheduled. The images there still could not conclusively say whether the spot was scar tissue or something more annoying so a fine needle aspiration was ordered.

They were apologetic for having to do the additional testing so soon after the surgery but my motto has been and continues to be 'do what you need to do'. They called by the end of the day to say the preliminary tests- and now the final report confirms- that it was scar tissue.

Through the extra tests and the wait for the results I focused on remaining calm and used the meditation techniques I learned last year to focus on my breathing and the moment at hand: right now everything is fine. If there's something that needs to be dealt with I'll do it.

There were a few times that my head ran away with thoughts of the cancer, returned, and what that would mean: surgery, recuperation, more chemo, a worse prognosis. But again I would calm myself by focusing on my breath, on the moment. I was proud of myself for staying present.

At the time I didn't realize how exhausting it was to quell the fear and to remain focused. By the end of the day I was wiped out. I had planned to be back at work that afternoon to check in on a large project we were doing but with the extra tests we didn't get back into town until after 5pm and I think I just went to bed.

Aside from being quite busy with work and regular life, as regular as it can be now, I've been rather exhausted emotionally which is why I haven't posted anything in quite a while. I feel as if I'm balancing two worlds in my hands- the regular world and the changed one- and it's taking everything in me to do it.

As ever, thank you so much to all of you for your continued support. Please know that your thoughts and good wishes are a welcomed treat. A special thank you to all my families: to Kathy & Vic and Shirley & Jim for their lovely cards, to Ro & Jo for their spontaneity, to Char and Mary for lifting me up, to Mark & Shirley for their team effort of consistent calls and strong support.

Much love and peace,
Karen