Blisstree » Robin Dunn Bryant

The Eight Things I Know

Robin Dunn Bryant — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 02:36:23 +0000

My grrrlfriend, Jessica tagged me with a meme, and as one who loves taking quizzes, I couldn’t resist. Here are The 8 Things I Know:

Cancer can make people brave, fearful, extraordinary, or just plain stupid.

There are very few things that are as comforting as a phone call from a dear friend you haven’t talked to in awhile.

A dog’s love is one of the purest forms of love a person can ever know.

There are some movies that you saw in your youth that don’t hold up as you age – Caddyshack is one good example.

Nikky Finney is, hands down, one of the best poets I’ve ever read.

The family I’ve built for myself: my husband, my daughter, and our crazy animals, couldn’t be better.

No one should ever remake Marvin Gaye

Everyone should visit the Holocaust Museum at least once.

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The Eight Things I Know

Those Pesky People Again

Robin Dunn Bryant — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 04:34:55 +0000

So in my studies I’m finding that I’m not all that unusual in having people disappear after my diagnosis. I won’t go on and on about the how and whys of why this happens to people in a crisis. I won’t go into it again about how much it hurts. I think these days I’m most interested in finding the exact right words to tell these people to go away. There are two choice words I often have in mind…

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Those Pesky People Again

Say A Prayer…Please

Robin Dunn Bryant — Tue, 19 Jun 2007 22:16:00 +0000

The daughter of one of my new work friends has been going back and forth to the doctor’s for some “tests” and she got some results today that were rather disconcerting. I honestly can’t remember exactly what she said, but there was mention of abnormal cells and a biopsy. I can’t help but be worried that cancer is like the old allegory about death: when one soul dies another is immediately born. What I don’t want to have happen is for me to finish my treatments and them to get some devastating news. I found myself praying my year old prayer today, “Please God, let it just be something else.” The doctors they have so far are great, so I’m sure they will get back to her quickly to let her know the next steps. I’m just going to keep praying.

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Say A Prayer…Please

My Last Radiation Treatment Today

Robin Dunn Bryant — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 22:30:52 +0000

This morning I will go in for my last radiation treatment. Today my active treatment stops and I can stop having daily interactions with doctors. I’ve found the radiation more taxing than the chemo in a lot of ways. At least with chemo I was able to plan: there were days I was tired and days I wasn’t; if I took my medicine “on time” I didn’t get sick; I napped between noon and three and was able to function. The radiation has been much different. There are days when my breast and/or my chest aches. There are days when every time I move the fabric against my skin sends searing pain through me. And the exhaustion with the radiation is far greater than what I experienced with the chemo. Instead of needing a few days of down time, it seems like the days that I’m flat on my butt never end. The way I hear it it’ll take a good bit of time before I feel like myself again. I think I can wait for the fatigue to end, but I’ll be very excited to not have the burning pain anymore. Luckily that’ll end pretty quickly.

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My Last Radiation Treatment Today

One Year Later

Robin Dunn Bryant — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 05:25:51 +0000

I’m still adjusting to the whole idea of cancer. My diagnosis anniversary passed without any notice. I went to work like usual, I sat in a ton of meetings, I came home exhausted and just wanted to sleep. And even though I didn’t spend the entire day dwelling on it, breast cancer was a nagging thought in the back of my mind. There was a part of me that wanted some sort of celebratory day in my honor and another that very much wanted to ignore the whole thing. Even now, days later, I’m not exactly sure what it is that I want. I’ve given up the very childlike wish I had that somehow time would turn back, like some great movie flashback, and the doctor would tell us that “it was nothing.” I’m just trying to figure out what it will mean to stop being a patient and start being a survivor. I’m just trying to figure out how (or whether) these new anniversaries I’m going to accumulate are to be celebrated.

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One Year Later

Happy Father’s Day

Robin Dunn Bryant — Sat, 16 Jun 2007 23:33:52 +0000

This morning we’ll get ourselves up early (as early as we can, that is) and make brunch for my husband in celebration of Father’s Day. Talk about your rough year for him as well: leaving the comfort of the city he’d lived in for 15 years; moving across the country to a job market that is less than embracing; and watching your new wife suffer through cancer treatments. One thing that has been really beneficial for him is that he found a dojo that supports him as a teacher and another that supports him as a student. This past Friday he fought in his first MMA fight and won resoundingly by an arm bar in the second round. Through all of the stress of the past year the one thing that has kept him sane is going to work out with the guys at the dojo. Of all the things he could do to take care of himself in the very draining role of caregiver, this was by far the best thing.

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Happy Father’s Day

My DH’s New Job

Robin Dunn Bryant — Fri, 01 Jun 2007 01:48:49 +0000

Last week when my DH had his interviews he said he felt really confident about both of them. Both jobs were fulfilling the same function, but one was with a new contract and he was most excited about getting that one.

Not only did he get an offer from the folks at my site, he also was offered the job on a new project down the street. He starts on June 18th and couldn’t be happier.

It’s nice to be getting so much good news these days.

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My DH’s New Job

People Are Starting To Reappear

Robin Dunn Bryant — Wed, 30 May 2007 16:15:21 +0000

I’m not sure if somehow they’ve found me out here in cyberspace or if they’ve done a little research and figured out that at around the year mark I should be “safe” to deal with again, but a lot of the folks who immediately disappeared after my diagnosis have started contacting me again. It’s really difficult for me to open my email and have a “hey girl, what’s up?” message from someone who hadn’t responded to my emails or phone calls. It tears me up to get a voicemail from someone who turned tail and ran.

I have to say that I understand on some levels the amount of fear that cancer brings to people. And I am a person who often puts her foot in her mouth in delicate situations, so I understand part of that as well. But I’ve never been at a loss for words for a year. And I’ve never completely ducked out on someone I cared about in the midst of a crisis.

I’m the one that people know they can call to get level-headed relationship advice, I’m the one whose door is always open, I’m the one who will leave the comfort of my house on a cold and rainy night to pick you up when your car dies, and I’m the one to help you fix it the next day. Most of my friends are long-distance now. The move in the midst of a new diagnosis was emotionally excruciating and it was made harder by the fact that people I’d hoped would be there for me were gone. I knew that I wouldn’t be privy for folks coming over to watch movies or people bringing us something tasty they’d cooked up for dinner, but I didn’t expect a phone call to be too much.

It would’ve been much better for me if people had heard the word “cancer” and decided that they couldn’t fool with me anymore. It’s having these folks decide now to try to come back into my life that hurts so much.

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People Are Starting To Reappear

The Ultimate Road Trip

Robin Dunn Bryant — Wed, 30 May 2007 05:37:59 +0000

I’ve been saying that I wanted to do a century ride for about two years now and I keep getting derailed. While spending some time on Google this past weekend I ran across the Hope On Wheels site and thought “I wish they had something like that close to where I live.” Then I noticed that the contact us information said Nashville and the wheels started spinning in my head.

The thing is, I’m a good eight hours from Nashville, and that seems like a ridiculously long way to go for a breast cancer fundraiser. But my good friend Ivy lives in Nashville. She and I met when we were both host parents on a parenting site and she is hands down one of the coolest people I’ve ever met (and quite handy around the house it seems). When I found out that I had to get chemo, she shaved her head in solidarity. Of course I’ve thanked her profusely, but I sure would love to be able to give her a hug in person.

I might have to start logging some miles. The shortest distance they are offering is 29 miles. I should be able to get myself in shape for that by September…

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The Ultimate Road Trip

On: Beauty

Robin Dunn Bryant — Tue, 29 May 2007 20:18:29 +0000

It’s still a shock to see myself in the mirror some days: the very short extremely straight hair; the belly that is much rounder after a year of treatment; and the odd half-moon dent in the side of my breast. I won’t say that I turn away in horror, but there are plenty of days that I do a double take at the stranger in the mirror.

I was delighted to stumble upon Elizabeth Gray-King’s blog and this painting that she shared in one of her posts. I don’t know if I would have the balls to pose semi-topless, but I appreciate the model’s bravery.

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On: Beauty