One year ago today, 3 stupid little words changed our lives forever. You have cancer. We didn't even really know what that meant. There is no good kind of cancer, but we really didn't know what to expect. We understood that it would be tough, but like any journey, you don't really know what you are in for until you go down the path. Now is a great opportunity for me to be down and talk about how horrible the past year has been, but we were reflecting on it over the weekend. In the past year, while being sick sucks, we've done more than most people and are insanely grateful for it all. It's been hard at times, depressing at times, frustrating at times and just sad a lot. In short, it has been long. 365 days doesn't seem that long, but this past year kind of drug on. For me, the biggest challenge is to consistently watch someone you love be so sick. For Holly, less than being sick, is just how much cancer has taken from her. Time from her family, time from her friends, fun nights out, cool day trips. The little things that most of us take for granted are so dependent on her health. It just sucks. It's been a long year, but we are confident that 2008 will be better. We are confident that her health will be better than it was pre-diagnosis. We know that it will take a lot of time, but we are confident that, like so many other people, we will prevail against this.

Holly doesn't really curse. I pride myself in being able to leverage profanity like a fulcrum to emphasize my points. I can make up curse words like an artist uses mixed medium to create master pieces. Holly just stares at me with disappointment for not being more creative and using a deeper variety of less offensive words to get my point across. But lately, 'Fuck' has crept into the vernacular at the Schnaars household. As in, 'this fucking sucks'. Our kids haven't started saying it yet, but after being under the weather for a year, there really isn't a good synonym that accurately reflects the feeling. What works for you? Photo by Ted and Liz.

We haven't posted anything in a while. Part of this is due to me having a new job. I've been pretty heads down. Part of it is that I don't need the reminder. It seems like each time I turn on the radio or the television, someone has been diagnosed with cancer or has died from cancer or is somewhere in between (media should do a better job of highlight survivors, but that is a different rant). I don't want the reminder. Holly is starting to slowly, very slowly feel better, that it is easy to sometimes forget about our situation. Part of it is that we are on pins and needles about Holly's PT scan on 2/12. We, of course, can only have positive vibes, but in the back of our heads, it is hard not to think of the alternative. At this very second, Holly is walking the dog downtown to get bagels and OJ for breakfast. She is persistent in her exercise routines, hitting the gym a few times a week. She isn't running yet, but at least getting a few miles in. Yoga and light weights helping too. She is still tired, though and, periodically, the effects of chemo hit her unexpectedly. The road to recovery is a long one. We believe that we are on the right track. I guess will know after the scan. Thanks, Eric, for the plug.

I think that both Holly & I had pretty lofty expectations when she stopped taking her Xeloda. While I'm sure that we knew, in the back of our heads that it wouldn't be rosy on day one, I think that we were hoping for some miracle bounce back. That really isn't the case. I was trying to explain how chemo works to a friend recently. Fortunately, it was at a New Years Eve party so that made things easy. Let's say that chemotherapy is the equivalent of the beer that he was drinking. One beer, not so bad. Seven or eight beers, you'll really be feeling it. 10 or 12 and you're getting a tiny sliver of what is going on. Not only will you feel effects of the 12 beers when you are worshiping the porcelain god, but you'll also be feeling it for a good chunk of the next day. Holly has a chemo hangover. She seems like she is getting a negligibly better each day, but it is still hard for her. She still has, and will probably have for a long time, the side effects of the chemo. Tired, nausea, tingles, neruopathy, nasty stuff. Unlike booze, no amount of Gatorade will flush it from her system. It is one of those things, like so many other things with cancer, that fucking sucks (which has now become our favorite phrase, more on that soon).

Last night is a perfect example of what happens when I'm really tired and try to write a post. I can't come up with words, so I write things that are a bit cryptic and confusing. The long story behind that is that I bumped into a friend from high school on Flickr the other day. In catching up, of course the cancer conversation comes up. Rather than try to explain how crappy things are, I tried to explain how unbelievably supportive and selfless the cancer community is. (As an aside, we need to come up with a better name than cancer community.) It is really cool.

Thank you to everyone who reads this blog. ...to everyone that forwards it to someone that finds it helpful. ...to everyone that has helped us. ...to everyone that leaves a comment. ...to everyone that sends positive thinking. ...to everyone that has answered our questions or quelled our thinking. ...to everyone in the cancer community who has been so incredibly supportive during the past year. The overwhelming support that we've received has been incredible. Thank you.

To all readers, If you read this site via an RSS reader, you may have noticed a bunch of links in the middle of the last post that didn't really seem a.) relevant and b.) appropriate. I'm not really sure what happened. Malicious links seem to only have been put in that one post, but I apologize if you received it and found these links. I generally keep pretty secure passwords, so I don't think that it was some sort of breach via that route. I don't know enough about what is under the covers of Wordpress or Feedburner that would have generated this to know how to fix it. I've since tightened up my passwords and hope that this is a fluke one time occourance.

Being in sales & marketing, I love a good ad campaign.  Especially if it is edgy and generates a little (a lot) of controversy.  Today, in Canada (like this would really work in the US), Schick, partnering with Rethink, a breast cancer charity, launched their Booby Wall campaign.  A site that lets Canadian women upload pictures of their breasts in order to generate awareness for breast cancer. The site is part of the TLC campaign, Touch, Look, Check. 

For me, the site is a little bit Flashy (yeah, you geeks know what I mean) and, while the terms specifically call out Canadian women,  I'm not sure how they confirm that (oh, those are definitely American boobs?).

This is one of those campaigns that probably works well for breast cancer, but doesn't translate well.  Maybe for colon cancer, but I just don't see it working for testicular cancer.  That would be like a Craigslist W4M response.

Press release is here.

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Tags: boobywall, rethink, breast cancer

Happy new year. Thank you very much for all of the kind words. The pox I wrote about last time has left our house. I'm feeling better. More importantly, Holly is awake. It is almost 8:00 and Holly is awake!!! It is really nice as it hasn't happened in a while. the chemotherapy has just crushed her system and by 5 o'clock or so, she has just been spent. We celebrated the New Year by her taking the last of her Xeloda. The last week or so of treatment was really brutal. Thankfully, I was off of work so I was able to take care of the kids. Holly was literally not able to get out of bed for about 7 or 8 days. It was really no fun to watch her go through it. The good news is that we are through it. Well, almost through it. I don't suppose it is ever really over. Now it is the healing process. Over the next 6 weeks, Holly will be building back her strength. She is dying to get to the gym and to start running again. On or around February 15th, she has a PT Scan to make sure that all of the cancer is out of her system. She also will more than likely have a colonoscopy around the same time (so that week will be crappy - get it?). We also find out if she was accepted for the 2009 Colondar. Fingers crossed on that one. It has been almost a year since Holly was diagnosed. It has been a brutal year. I'm glad it is over. Here is to 2008 being better.