Fit to Print Volume 25 Issue 2 June 2016 | Page 6

M e m b e r Pe r s p e c t i v e by Jeannie Rocchio The End of the World Surviving and Thriving After The Worst MRIs, CT scans, lots and lots of blood work. All of this has to be done before you can have surgery.... what kind of surgery? I wasn't even sure yet. I found a wonderful surgeon who assured me that he was going to be able to do breast conservation surgery. I was able to have a lumpectomy. They caught it early. Thank God! I was going to have surgery and shortly after that, 7 weeks of radiation therapy. I was scared. With every test, every blood draw came with a wait for a Rebounding: Cor and Jeannie Rocchio I t was December 21, 2012, the last day of the Mayan calendar; the end of the world as we know it, so the Mayans said. Well, it was, for a moment the end of the world as I knew it. It was the day I was diagnosed with breast cancer... at 43. I got the call, as many before me did and many after me will. I’m here to tell you, it doesn't have to be the end of the world as you know it. Of course, the call was devastating. I actually dropped the phone and hit the floor. Thankfully, my husband was there to pick me up and carry me through one of the hardest things I would ever have to go through. We heard the news and processed it. Now comes the hard part, telling people. Telling your mom and dad is not easy. Telling your children, even harder, their poor little confused and scared faces. Reminding them not to post it on Facebook. I’m not even kidding; I did have to say that. Then comes telling your friends. Trying to tell them all not to worry. You almost find yourself comforting them. “Really, I’ll be okay, don't worry about me, I’ve got this." I finally get my head around this and truly think, I've got this, now there is work to be done. There are tests to be had, 6 I was diagnosed with breast cancer...at 43. I got the call, as many before me did and many after me will. I’m here to tell you, it doesn't have to be the end of the world as you know it. result. Did it spread, is a lumpectomy still going to be what I need? Every time I woke up I thought, is today the day it spread? My surgery was scheduled for January 21. I had my tests and prepared for my surgery, all the while, thinking, I’m going to be just fine. I carried on like usual. I got up and went to the gym. I met my girls there and they supported me and made me feel better every day. If I wasn’t feelin’ it on a particular day, the text would come through: “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” and I went. Thanks, Marie! The day finally came. We got up early and off to the hospital we went. So far, so good. There’s a lot of prep work to do before this type of surgery. It’s a really snowy day in January, 2013 so everyone is late. The roads are awful. The radiologist has to be there along Summer 2016 FIT to Print with everyone else, and she’s late too. I’m off to a late start. We finally get rolling, and it's off to pre-op I go. It’s finally time to head up to the operating room. We were waiting for so long I started to think of other things, like how hungry I was. But now it’s time, and I’m scared. My husband can only take me so far. He held my hand up until the operating room doors, then had to let go. A wonderful nurse who I’d come to know held my hand until I fell asleep. I woke up in recovery. Great news: it did not spread to my lymph nodes. Radiation will still be the protocol. Positive thinking all the way, I’ll do this no sweat…Well, lots of sweat, actually. It’s exhausting. In the beginning, I’m a champ. I made my daily radiation appt at 10:30 so I could go to the gym first. I missed my gym buddies. I had to be out for six weeks to heal. In those six weeks I would have never made it without my friends and family. My parents Maintenance “Man”: Cathy Peacockcame up to take care of my kids while I couldn't. We were all overwhelmed by the kindness of everyone around us. Night after night, dinner arrived courtesy of the best people I know and love. For the first week, I rock radiation, I workout, I go to my treatment, I'm good. Week 2...still good. Week 3, I have to admit, I’m getting tired. Week 4, I need to nap, and I can’t believe it, me, a nap? No way! Now, I come home each day and sleep. By the next week I actually need to set an alarm to be sure I’m up for my youngest son’s bus. Did I mention that I have a son with Autism who needs constant attention? Yes, really! My other boys are older and very helpful, but that little one is a handful. I’m in the home stretch, then finally it’s over. It takes a little while to bounce back. Then one day you realize that you didn’t need to take it slow or need a nap, and you feel your energy coming back.. One day, you finally feel like yourself again. I can get back to the gym. I’d been going to "fitness" for a few years and had been a little nervous abut getting into the "big room" with all of the people who looked like they knew what they were doing. Then my gym buddy, Marie, talked Debbie and me into trying it out. Well, I thought radiation was exhausting! I had been going to that gym for years, why was I so beat up from it? It was a new workout, that was why. continued on page 26