Happy Birthday to ME!

Happy Birthday to me! Happy birthday indeed… 34 is going to be an amazing year.


Why? Well, to start 34 will be the year I am finished with all this cancer stuff (for the most part), I will have beaten cancer and I will be what ‘they’ consider a ‘cancer survivor’.


CANCER SURVIVOR. Weird, it still hasn’t set in.


But, that’s pretty cool.


It’s also another year where I get to see my children continue to thrive into fantastic little mini humans. Everyday they surprise me, and everyday they get so much bigger and older! Time moves fast my friends, so fast.


34 is the year my business and career will really begin to blossom into what I’ve always envisioned. I’ve always seen myself on stage, speaking to large groups of people in the hopes I can inspire them to live healthier and more positive lives. It’s starting, and I know it’s just the  beginning.


Plus I’ll go back to work! I’m going to begin teaching bootcamp this summer, personal training, building my nutrition franchise – the whole nine yards. I can’t wait, and it’s going to be fun.


What else? Oh yes – fun. Fun in general. 34 is going to be a year filled with the best times with my friends, family, vacations, play dates, parties, events… you name it, I’m doing it and it’s going to be FUN! Life is meant to be fun.


Oh, and my hair has started to grow back… WIN.


Birthdays are something to celebrate because we are ultimately celebrating life itself. They’re a gift, and we need to appreciate them every single year. I’ve never been more aware of how much we need to appreciate them.


So, happy birthday to me!

Lindsy Vs. Chemo

For those of you who have been following my blog, and this whole journey – you will have noticed that I’ve been pretty MIA lately. I went pretty quiet on social media, haven’t written a blog in over a week and haven’t been my usual busy self.


My latest treatment (number 4) really knocked the wind out of me. I know it’s because the effects are starting to add up, and it’s getting harder for my body to bounce back… but it’s still something that took me by surprise.


Immediately after the treatment I feel something that I can describe best as a certain ‘heaviness’. My body feels heavy, my eyes feel heavy, I can really feel my heartbeat in my chest and I am just generally moving slowly. My eyes were so dry it was hard to keep them open, and the constant dehydration is a battle.


During the first three days after treatment I’m given oral medication to take at home, and once that is done – I go through a new phase of effects. The nausea was constant, the fatigue made normally easy tasks difficult, and I slept a lot.


I also have to take shots every day, for seven days, after each treatment. The shots aren’t a huge deal, and they’re very important because they’re what helps my immune system battle normal everyday things like colds/flus/virus/etc. by increasing my white blood cell count. These shots cause some major body aches (the doctors call it bone ache because it actually makes your bone marrow ache), and that is what I’ve struggled with the most.


I’ve been dealing with some other little things like peeling fingertips, tingling in my hands and feet, food aversions, mouth sores, and a lasting burning sensation in my throat caused by a growing list of food and drinks.


Guys, I still have my eyelashes and eyebrows though – so I feel like a winner! Seriously.


Honestly, I’m sure reading that all feels like a lot. And although it’s been pretty crappy, I know it means the medication is doing what it needs to do – save my life. Am I right?


Yeah, I said that.


Shit just got real friends. Again. Because it’s the truth.


My next treatment is in a few days and the cycle starts all over again, and I’m not looking forward to it, obviously. Especially since they’re giving me four new drugs for the remaining four treatments, and I’ve been warned they’re going to be even less pleasant than the first four.




You have to do what it takes, whatever it takes, and that’s just what I am going to do.


What’s all the buzz about?

Well, it’s official. I have no hair. So what kind of tone do I want to set in this specific blog post? Is there even any way I can set a tone after the shock factor most of you experienced after you just saw that big picture of me?


Maybe it’s that I have no hair and who cares. Or that I’m hurting every time I look in the mirror? Maybe it’s that I can totally rock the cue ball look and might even like my hair this short… Probably not, let me think…


The mixed feelings are real.


No hair means the chemo is working. It means it’s targeting all those aggressive fast growing cells and and if I can see it, and I can feel it, then it’s happening. PRO.


No hair means I can feel every single draft of cold air that ever exists. CON.


No hair means I get to experiment with some pretty stellar wig game. PRO.


Wigs are fucking annoying. CON.


No hair means my get-ready routine has been drastically reduced. PRO.


Until I need to really focus on makeup once my eyelashes and eyebrows disappear. CON.


My kids think it’s funny. PRO.


Kingsley thinks I look like a boy. And she really wants me to stay a girl soooo…  CON. And funny.


My eyes really stand out. PRO.


Unless they’re tired eyes, sigh… CON.


Who even knew there could be this many PROS? I was really focused on the CONS just before it happened, because I had no idea how it would look, how I would feel or how others would feel. I didn’t want to look like a cancer patient… and now I do, which means that now everyone knows.


PRO – I now know that when my hair starts to grow back, I’ve already tried all of the different lengths and they looked pretty ok on me. And, my hair will be growing back stronger and healthier then ever in just a few short months. It’ll be here in no time… at least that’s what I keep telling myself.


High FIVE!

The kids are alright

“What do you tell the kids?” This is a question many people are curious about, and here is my take. Early on it was a pretty easy decision for my husband and I that we would not hide anything that was happening to me. Medical things and health issues can happen to everyone, and we didn’t want them to be scared of hospitals, scared of getting sick, or scared if someone they love get sick. I’ve always been a firm believer that they need to know that these things happen, and when they do, we are here for them, people are there for us and we live in a place where we get excellent care.


Everyone may not agree with this approach, but I will tell you that the confidence in our decisions with our children grows everyday. I think it can be easy to not give them enough credit in their ability to understand what is happening around them.


Of course, we give them age appropriate versions of what’s happening, and our top priority is to make sure they have no fear, and feel comfortable knowing they’re still our top priority and maintaining a stable environment for them trumps everything.


Kingsley is 4 years old, and she is empathetic, caring, loving, and we watch her compute what’s going on as it’s happening every single day. I love hearing what she has to say, answering her questions and watching her process everything in her own way.


Hunter, is 2 ½, and he is the most loving, caring little boy – and provides all the comic relief necessary. He is so young, but seems to grasp most concepts, and isn’t phased by it at all. They’re both happy, secure and don’t realize that what is going on with me is much different then what’s happening outside their world!


They knew from the start that I had something in my chest that needed to be fixed. We told them that my body made extra cells, and they had to be removed. We obviously down played the nitty gritty details of the  surgery, and told them what they needed to know – like that I would be in the hospital for a couple of days, and after I went home I wouldn’t be able to do all the things I normally do for a little while.


(Below, we got a lot of flowers after surgery – Kingsley LOVED that! Plus, a couple pics from one of their short hospital visits.)



So, that is where we left it at first. We didn’t use the ‘C’ word, mostly because I was worried they’d hear it somewhere else, in a scarier context. We decided we’d wait on the final details of my treatment before making any more calls.


Once it was confirmed that I’d be doing chemotherapy, we decided to look into how to approach the situation the best way possible, because we knew we’d have to give them more details. All the professionals and resources were telling us that we needed to be more up front and honest with them, including using the ‘C’ word.


We waited until my PICC line was inserted into my arm, because it was a great way to lead the discussion – a look what I have – guess what it’s for – kind of situation. We told them I was going to start getting special medicine, because after they removed the cells in my operation, we had to make sure no cells were left in my body (Kingsley learns about cells in school – and she LOVES learning these kinds of terms). We explained how the PICC line is how they give me medicine, and that the medicine might make me feel unwell sometimes, but it is going to be make me all better, and nothing is really going to change.


They weren’t really interested haha – like it wasn’t a big deal. We approached the name, told them this was called Breast Cancer – again, they didn’t really care at all, which is good in my opinion, what’s the big deal MOM?!


Finally, we told them my hair was going to change, and eventually fall out. This took a little longer for Kingsley to compute, Hunter was literally already off playing and didn’t give a shit haha. So I said ‘Kingsley – my hair is going to look like dad’s hair!” – she burst into laughter, thought it was the best thing she ever heard and that was that. Aside from all the ‘funny’ jokes she was making – she’s a comedian just like her mama 😉


We made light of it all, one of my favourite tactics in life – and honestly, as things happen both kids have been amazing. I know they’re ok, we check in all the time, and our decision to be as up front as we were seems to have been the best one, for our family.