Anything But Pink: On Becoming A Cancer Survivor

© 2019 Renée Keel/Wild West Media Productions LLC

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

First Edition: November 2019

ISBN: 978-1-54-398669-3

ReneeKeel.com

Table of Contents

Cover

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Invictus

Foreword

Acknowledgements

0.5 – Ron

Part 1 - On Becoming the Target of a Cataclysm

2016-1-Breast Cancer – Day One, Ground Zero

1.5 - Ron

2-Blunt Force Trauma

2.5 – Ron

3-Research, Plan, & Organize

3.5 - Ron

4-Biopsy #3

4.5 - Ron

5-From Stage Two to Stage Three

5.5 - Ron

6-Cancer: The Emotional Price

6.5 - Ron

2017-7-The Calm Before the Storm

7.5 - Ron

8-Chemo: Devil or Angel?

8.5 Ron

Part 2-On Becoming Adaptable

9-Chemotherapy: Round One

9.5 - Ron

10-Chemotherapy: Round 1 – Day 5

11-On Becoming Vulnerable

11.5 - Ron

12-Surviving Transformation

12.5 - Ron

13-Wigs, Scarves, & Hats, Oh My!

13.5 - Ron

14-Removing Hope

14.5 - Ron

15-Letting Go of Control

15.5 - Ron

16-A Cancer Milestone

16.5 - Ron

17-The Little Surprises

17.5 – Ron

18-Facing the Fears

18.5 - Ron

19-A List of Extras

19.5 - Ron

20-Choosing a Side

20.5 - Ron

21-Nasty Neulasta

21.5 - Ron

22-On Becoming More Aware

23-Moving Beyond Chemotherapy

23.5 - Ron

24-What Cancer Has Taken Away

25-Staring Down the Demon

26-Déja Vu – All Over Again

26.5 – Ron

27-Swollen, Sore, & Sleepy

27.5 – Ron

28-Making Molehills Out of Mountains

28.5 - Ron

29-To Know or Not to Know?

29.5 – Ron

30-Relearning the Trot Before the Gallop

30.5 - Ron

31-Cancer Free is Not Cancer Over

31.5 - Ron

32-A Time for Healing

32.5 – Ron

33-Sunsets and Sunrises

34-On Becoming a Crone Overnight

34.5 - Ron

35-But Wait, There is More

35.5 - Ron

36-Giving Thanks

37-But Wait, There is More, Part Two!

38-We’ll Take a Cup O’ Kindness Yet

2018-39-A Winter of Much Contentment

40-Surgery, Again

41-Who Needs Hormones?

Part 3-On Becoming Evolved

42-Life Goes On

43-Adjusting the Viewpoint

44-Support Systems

45-On Becoming a Survivor

Afterword - Ron

Afterword - Renée

About the Authors

Renée

Ron

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Myrtle Cook and all the other brave souls who have stayed positive and strong, regardless the cost.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

–William Ernest Henley

Foreword

You bring order to my chaos, he said. Words my husband has spoken to me many times. He is the artistic and musical spirit often juggling multiple deadlines, getting ready for gigs all over the globe, and generally in a state of bedlam on any given day. I am the textbook Type A personality, analytical, pragmatic, and am typically quite grounded. Our contrasting natures serve us well and each one complements the other. It has been this way from the beginning. The opposing energies that we bring to our relationship have grown familiar and comfortable in their differences, fitting us together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. We did not anticipate the juxtaposition that would be demanded of us with such rigor beginning in the middle of a long and cold winter.

If given the foreknowledge of a cancer diagnosis in December 2016, it is safe to say that I would not have seen myself writing about the experience. That does not mean I do not enjoy writing, I do, and I am an avid reader and understand the value of books. However, a strong desire to tell my tale combined with the thought of putting pen to paper (metaphorically speaking), came as a surprise. Stress and anxiety can be tackled in diverse ways; some will put in ear buds and go to the gym and work out, some will dance until they can no longer stand, some will cry, and some will drink. Some will do all of these. When I received the diagnosis, I knew immediately that I needed to write it out. Faced with shutting down or standing up, for me the choice was blatantly obvious. When the demons are in black and white and making eye contact from the page in front of you, it is impossible to deny their existence.

Sharing with the world what was to be confronted as I experienced all that goes along with breast cancer was never in any doubt. Being married to a public figure brings with it a stage set before a large audience of spectators all around the planet. I chose transparency on a grand scale as a method of demanding from myself complete authenticity. Exposure on this level was a way of enforcing accountability for the mindset that was to accompany me each step of the way. A mindset which needed to stay the course of positivity and always see the pretty (or at least acceptable) and not dwell upon the painful uglies. Upon diagnosis, we experienced immediately inchoate feelings of sadness and kicked them out after a very brief interlude.

It has been said that it is far more important to look forward than backward, and that all endeavors should begin with a desired goal already identified at the outset. It was with this outlook that I confronted the disease. The end I envisioned did not include accepting defeat and, simply put, I chose to manifest strength and wellness. Disease invaded my physical body without permission, and I opted to mentally hand it back unopened, and not to let it inflict damage upon my emotional wellbeing, too.

The American Cancer Society projected that over 1.6 million people in the United States would be diagnosed with cancer in 2016. With around 323 million people in the country that same year, the simple math indicates that roughly one half of one percent of the United States population would receive terrible news from their doctor. This is a small number, so harboring denial that cancer will ever touch you personally is easily understood. It is easy to believe that it will never happen to you; until it does.

What follows are the thoughts and feelings as they emerged on a day-to-day basis as I traveled from diagnosis to survivor. It is delivered with a strong dose of reality and very little sugar coating. There is fear, there is pain, there is anxiety. There is not anything remotely close to giving up or throwing in the towel. Because no matter the circumstances, no matter how tough the next step will be, there is always the option of believing that a silver lining exists. There is benefit in every circumstance and on certain days it is hidden by dark and ominous clouds. Trusting it is there despite the storm is essential to remaining in a good place emotionally; it takes effort every second of the day.

Through the telling, we trust that solace and inspiration may be found in our story. Through the living, he was the rock that kept me grounded, and brought order to the chaos in my mind on a daily basis. Regularly putting thoughts and feelings on paper allowed for smaller chunks of writing to be published at a time, and this was perfect during treatment and recovery when the ability to focus also came in small doses. Some words were written on a laptop while in a comfy recliner, some from a hospital bed, some in the middle of the night when sleep was nowhere to be found, and at least one was penned during a chemotherapy infusion. I found the writing to be something I could focus on and even though the topic is all about my health crisis, the writing worked to take my mind off it for a while. There is a deeper, softer, philosophy to almost everything, and looking inward to find the intellectual aspects of any given circumstance is an effective method to create distance from the sharper edges that lurk on the surface. At the end of each chapter are one or two comments left by visitors on the public blog entries and social media sites where the posts were shared.

This journey was not traveled alone. Some chapters include an addendum written by my husband. It is the he said to my she said and allows the reader insight to the experience through the eyes of the caregiver. He walked this path, too, and his perspective is incredibly important to anyone who finds themselves in the position of looking after one with a potentially terminal illness. His ability to maintain a staunch façade and hide any emotional turmoil from me on an empathic level was simply incredible.

We both did a lot of research into the right things to say and do for each other, and the only constant we found was a scarcity of information written for or by husbands with wives dealing with breast cancer. The role of caregiver in this experience is not insignificant and is potentially just as traumatic. Sitting bedside to your partner and watching her undergo such drastic and harsh treatments is not easy by any stretch of the imagination, and the spouse is just as much a victim of the diagnosis as the patient.

Our story of cancer patient and caregiver is not unique. It was shared by approximately 3.2 million others in the United Stated during 2016. However, it is ours, and by way of this book, it also belongs to anyone who may benefit from the content herein. When originally published, the blog was viewed in more than 40 countries, and it is our heartfelt desire that we can reach and possibly help many more people facing the same diagnosis by having our story available in book format.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I must thank Sanford Health for saving my life. I hold my medical dream team near and dear to my heart. Dr. Paula Denevan, Dr. Heather Karu, Dr. Christopher Sumey, Dr. Steve McGraw, CNP Colleen Schmidt, and all the support staff – I owe them my life. There has not been a single moment that I have felt less than cared for nor one that I doubted the willingness of each of them to work their hardest to make me well and send me back home to the man I love. Each Sanford employee I interacted with was friendly, went out of their way to make me feel safe, comfortable, and well educated. There is no way to ever convey my gratitude.

Copies of the book will be made available and donated to the Sanford Hospital for distribution by the nurse navigators to newly diagnosed cancer patients. The willingness of the navigators to walk this path over and over again providing wisdom and support for the shell-shocked is invaluable and cannot be appreciated enough. They helped me more than they will ever know.

Photos mentioned herein were taken by yours truly with the exceptions being the photo of Ron and I on the last page (a cell phone shot taken backstage at Hot Harley Nights in Sioux Falls) and both cover images. The front cover image was shot by Kelly Kirkpatrick who provided her services as a gift to me, and somehow, thank you does not seem to be enough of a repayment to her. She captured the raw grit I was living right after all my hair had fallen out and I was midway through chemotherapy treatments. Her patience with me and willingness to give her permission to use her image in this book are commendable; she has a natural talent behind the camera, and I will be forever grateful to her for capturing an image that reveals my spirit in spite of my sickness.

The photo of Ron and I on the back cover was taken by Dave Stabley while we were in New Mexico filming a music video several years ago. Dave is a master behind the camera and in post processing. You can see his amazing talent at stabley.smugmug.com. He produced our favorite image of us together, the image seen on the back cover, and a large printed canvas of it sits atop the mantle in our home. Thank you, Dave, for your generosity and continued friendship.

I regularly included photos with my posts when they appeared originally online and have included a few in this version of my story. The images should be seen in color to be truly appreciated, though, so I have created a gallery online and the photos mentioned herein, and a few that are not, can be seen at www.ReneeKeel.com. I have included some additional backstory and philosophical musings for some of the photos; I feel that a good photo not only makes you feel, it also makes you think.

Lastly, I will be the first to say that all you need to get through the really tough times can be found within, however without the shoulder, support, caretaking, and love from my husband, this ordeal would have been exponentially tougher. Knowing that I was safe, no matter what each day brought to us, allowed me to find peace a bit easier as I laid my head down each night, and as I opened my eyes each morning. My love for you, Ron, knows no bounds, nor will it ever be adequately defined in mere words.

I love you, but only for forever.

0.5 – Ron

This is the story of a truly inspiring human being coming face to face with a dark and unforgiving nemesis, as she faced a frightening challenge with amazing grace, beauty and strength. I’ve learned a lot being in love with her, and it’s made me a better man than I ever could have been without her. She’s taught me that being positive is a choice, and I’m sure reading her eloquent account of this dirty fight will, in some way, have the same effect on some of you.

Part 1

On Becoming the Target of a Cataclysm

2016

1

Breast Cancer – Day One, Ground Zero

Today was Monday. A Monday with teeth. Nobody really likes Mondays, even if their Monday falls on a different day. This is a universally accepted disdain. However, Mondays can challenge us, and seek ways to break us down, make us long for the weekend past. Some will persevere, some will go home and drink. Some Mondays require us to do both. This was one of those Mondays for me.

Cutting through all the small talk – it is still a Monday after all – this afternoon I was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. What does that mean? It means I have cancer in my right breast and have had it long enough for the cancer to work its way through the breast duct walls and into the breast tissue. How far has it spread? How big are the cancerous areas (I have two)? I’m not sure, but those are questions I will certainly ask the surgeon I am meeting later this week.

This has been a difficult day for me and for my husband, Ron. He was working his radio shift on the air when I had my follow up with my doctor and got the test results, so I heard the diagnosis alone. My immediate response to hearing the words you have cancer was to compartmentalize and begin making a mental list of questions to ask and areas to research. Data Girl took over my brain and sheltered my heart. Quantifying even the smallest part of what the diagnosis meant was important to me and was my way of coping and staying positive. I anticipated the crushing emotions descending upon my head and my heart and crippling me with overwhelming despair. I even expected to hear a slamming sound, as if a door was being violently shut somewhere inside my mind. However, none of this happened. I never have been a shrinking violet and becoming one now would only be to my detriment. Besides, I knew that the toughest part of my day was still to come.

I stopped by Ron’s work and asked him if he would like to go to our favorite place to eat for an early dinner when he got off the air. He enthusiastically agreed. As I drove to the restaurant, I played different scenarios out in my head and wondered which one would be the best or easiest one for him to hear. I opted to let him know in the same manner I was told; direct and to the point. When he arrived at the restaurant, I was already at the table sipping on a margarita – rocks and salt, please – preparing myself for his reaction. He sat down and before he could say a word, I told him the drink was delicious and he should think about having one, too. He ordered the same and then immediately asked me how my appointment went.

I came right out and told him, I have breast cancer. His immediate response was in direct opposition to mine – he was as attached emotionally, maybe even more so, as I was unattached. His entire frame just seemed to crumple a bit. He reached for my hand and with evident distress began asking all the questions I had already asked of the doctor or had mentally added to my research list. I explained everything as well as I could, and told him, We got this. I knew that I had to jump out in front of the fear and anxiety of the unknown and establish my foothold in positivity. The earlier you plant, the stronger the root.

As long as he