I’ve been a total slacker with my blog. Life can be a real punk sometimes.
I had the mammogram and ultrasound but no biopsy. I met with the surgeon and she reviewed everything. Her opinion was that I’m A-Ok. She literally told me to go home and celebrate that I’m still NED. OH, and by the way…no mastectomy for me either. She still feels it’s an unnecessary surgery but that if I have more symptoms to come back immediately and we’ll talk again.
**Insert Screaming Here**
Honestly, the way I feel right now, I’m not even sure I want to see another Oncologist ever again. I’m very seriously considering just packing up all the ‘cancer baggage’ and tossing it in the river and going about my business. When the cancer comes back (because metastatic disease always comes back) I’ll just let nature take it’s course and go quietly into the night. I’m very comfortable with that plan. I’m at peace with it.
So, last week I took a self imposed ‘time out’ with Facebook and deactivated my account. Boy was that dumb. My blog page is now unseeable. Welcome to my wonderful luck. I’ll figure it out but it sure is frustrating. If you happen to be a follower of my blog page on Facebook, hang with me. I’ll be back.
This past Friday I boarded the Amtrax for NYC. My soul sister, Melissa McAllister, we were meeting in the Big Apple to attend a workshop hosted by Jennifer Pastiloff. ‘Being Human, You Are Enough’. It was guaranteed to be an experience like no other. And it was.
We stayed in the area of Central Park West, within walking distance of Columbus Circle. It was a fantastic location. I about cried when i saw fireflies in Central Park.
Our hotel on the other hand, was…well…the outside terrace where you could sit and chill suring the and then turned into a chic bar in the evening was nice. The rooms left a lot to be desired. The hallway was creepy. Very Stephen King.
The bathroom was made for toddlers and the sleeping area was barely big enough for the bed we both crashed in. Unfortunately, double beds would have cost an extra $85/night. Thanks Priceline. Asshole.
Saturday was our workshop. Melissa and I were both so excited. It was very surreal. It was held at Pure Yoga. Very cool place. We arrived early and got a place up front. I mean this was like seeing your favorite artist in concert. Being up front was mandatory.
We were told to bring a journal to write in. Melissa was kind enough to bring them for us. We brought our phones in with us because, well, selfies of course. Duh. When Jenn finally walked in I think I was holding my breath. She has this energy about her. It’s something you can almost see floating around her.
As Jennifer began talking I started freaking out. This was going to be way out of my comfort zone. We began by writing something we wished for in or for our life on a sticky note and then we posted the note on the wall in front of us. Then we were told to grab a note off the wall. Any note..except not ours. The note we took we would look at each day and put positive energy out into the universe for the person that note belonged to. That’s cool. Someone would be thinking about my hope and hoping the same for me.
We had many exercises that involved writing in our journal and then reading out loud what we wrote so others could bare witness. It was difficult for us to read what was written. Many of people cried when they began reading. The coolest part was when Jenn added music to the yoga we did. It was loud, in your face music that raised the energy level to highs unknown.
I didn’t share my writings until the end. We were to finish the sentence: “I (full name) award myself a medal for….” It could be one thing or as many as we could fit in. I was beyond uncomfortable knowing I’d have to read what I wrote out loud. I was pretty happy with the thought that I could have squeeked by. When it was my turn I thought I could do it without tears. Nope. Not even close. It all bubbled up to the surface and by the time I finished, I had the snot bubbles like Jenn promised we’d have. It was ugly crying in all its embarrassing glory. And I owned it. I received a nice round of loud applause.
Sunday consisted of sightseeing around the West Village, eating a slice with cold hard cider and tattoos to remember this weekend and life changing experience.
We finished the evening with a delicious dinner at the Red Cork. We had good wine, shared small plates and had great conversation.
I leave you with what I shared at the workshop:
“I Susan Rahn, give myself a medal for being a fucking outstanding Mother and raising an even more amazing Son. I also give myself a medal for not allowing my cancer to swallow me whole and for using my voice and bitchiness to educate others; for standing my ground when others try to smack me down and shut me up. I also give myself a medal for just being myself”