Road Warrior Blog

19 December 2007

Passion versus compulsion: my journey

Posted by Deborah Pieri under: Deborah Pieri .

OK, I have to apologize ahead of time for writing a book here. I’ve been working on this all week. I was reading your thoughts on running, and compulsion versus passion Bob. It led me to ponder my own running history and journey. I started running 10 years ago because I was trying to keep my blood pressure down and to be healthy. I can’t say that I liked it at first. I ran with a group from the old West Y, and I would be thinking. . . “When will this be over?” But as the months went by, I found myself craving my daily run. If I missed a run. . . especially a long run on the weekend, I would panic. I’m still that way about the long run. I tend to push myself through a long run regardless of how I feel (except for last weekend when I simply couldn’t stop coughing!)

The whole question of compulsion or passion leads me to share a bit about my cancer experience in 2005. Thanksgiving time of 2004, I was teaching school full time, teaching fitness classes at the Y and for GR Parks and Rec. I was also finishing my Master’s degree in Reading and Language Arts. I had been working on it for almost 7 years. I was just finishing my thesis . . . . a tremendous amount of work and stress, when my husband discovered a small lump under my right breast. He was concerned, but I just thought, I’ll deal with this when I hand in my thesis. I had this sick, sinking feeling that it was something bad, but I didn’t know what. I turned in my thesis, I walked at graduation to receive my degree, but the great joy and relief that I thought I would feel at this huge accomplishment eluded me. My husband and I went out to dinner after the ceremony. He held my hands and I saw fear in his eyes. I made the appointment. I could tell by my doctor’s reaction that something was wrong. She tried to make light of it, so I wouldn’t worry. She wanted a mammogram and ultrasound. The mammagram was perfect, the ultrasound clearly showed a suspicious mass that they immediately biopsied. I waited anxiously for the results. I told my children and my parents nothing, not wanting to upset them.

When my doctor called me at school to tell me that I had cancer, I remember feeling numb, but strangely calm. Oh my God, I have cancer I thought. Am I going to die? I’m only 48 years old. My students were in music class. I sat at my desk and listened as she explained the grade of the tumor, the surgeon she wanted me to see, the oncologist, etc. Finally she asked if I was OK. What do you say? Sure I’m fine.  I called my husband, Tim who was working only a few blocks away. He said he’d be there at lunch. He walked into school 30 minutes later, and we held each other and cried. We thought there must be some kind of mistake. I was very healthy. I ran 5-6 days a week, taught pilates, weight training, and other classes, had a good diet, and practiced yoga. I took vitamin and mineral supplements. I had given birth to six children and breastfed them all. I had no family history of breast cancer. I had no risk factors. This was all wrong. What I’ve learned since then is that breast cancer is very random. Most women have no risk factors when they are diagnosed. Very scary.

That day as I drove home from school my youngest son, Joe sat beside me in the car. He knew something was wrong and asked me why I was so quiet. I told him what was going on. He was 12 years old. Tears rolled down his face as we drove along. When we arrived home, the rest of my children were there waiting except for my oldest son, Nick who lives in Boston and Luke who was still working. Word had spread quickly. Everyone was tearful when I walked in. I sat down and explained what I knew. My daughters were crying, everyone was so upset when all of a sudden my son, Luke walked in with the most adorable puppy in the whole world. He walked up to me and gently set her in my lap, and said, “This is Willowbee, Mama. She’s for you.” The entire mood changed. One look at Willowbee and everybody was petting her and saying how cute she was. Our dog , Libby had died 4 months before this. Having this lovely little creature to focus on had taken away the sadness and made us all laugh. I told the kids that I had no intention of going anywhere, that I was strong and tough and that I would fight the cancer with every ounce of my being.

I stopped tried to figure it out. I prayed for strength and courage. I ran and ran and ran. When I ran, I praying and a peace would come over me. I felt strong and healthy with sweat pouring off me when I entered the house. It was February.  In my mind I was still going to run the Riverbank Run. Cancer would not stop me I decided. My first surgery was February 15th. I had a lumpectomy and a sentinal lymph node biopsy. My surgeon was terrific. He came to check on me after surgery. I groggily asked him when I could run. He smiled and told me he wanted me to rest and take it easy for 2 to 4 weeks. But I think he understood how important running was to my recovery though because he told me I could run when I felt strong enough.  

When my husband drove me home that night, I walked into the house, picked up the stability ball, placing it behind my back against the wall. I did a set of squats in order to win a $20 bet with our friend Patrick. I had told him that this cancer thing was not going to disrupt my routine and that I would even exercise when I got home from surgery. I was feeling no pain if you know what I mean. I made Tim call Patrick right away to confirm that I had won the bet. He didn’t believe me at first. I continued to do squats everyday, determined to keep my legs strong for running.

I was sore but so happy to hit the road again. The lumpectomy was fine, but the lymph node biopsy gave me trouble. It was painful and swollen and hurt like mad when I ran. I tried to hold my arm tight to my side so it wouldn’t hurt so much.

When I went back to my doctor, my pathology report showed that my doctor did not get the clean edge that he had hoped for. . . he had missed 2mm on the pectoral muscle. I needed another surgery. This surgery was in March. It was a much quicker recovery. I decided to fly out to Boston the first week of April during Spring break to hang out with my son Nick. In my mind it was a last big celebration before chemo which really frightened me. The week in Boston was awesome. I ran everyday through the arboretum and through the streets of Boston. I felt strong as I ran the hills. I was so happy to be alive! Nick and I drove up the coast, sat in little fishing villages, eating clam chowder and talking. I cried. Nick listened and encouraged me to stay strong. His love and care for me were overwhelming.

I returned to Grand Rapids ready to face chemo. My long run was up to 13 miles and I still thought I could do the riverbank, but my first round of chemo the first week of May dashed all my hopes. I had had another surgery to have a port put in for the chemo. My first chemo was a bit scary, but I had a ton of papers to correct and I sat there eating popsicles and correcting papers as the poison slowly dripped into my body. I tried to pretend that the drugs were some kind of great healer and that I would be fine. Positive attitude is everything I told myself. The next day I went back to Lack’s Cancer Center for a shot to boost my white blood cells. The weekend came and I could barely move I was so drained. A week later I went in for blood work. This was the Friday before the race. I had decided I couldn’t do the 25 K but figured I could lumber through the 5 K and at least still be a part of it. Late that afternoon my nurse called and said my white cell count was virtually wiped out. She said I had no immune system. . . that I needed to avoid crowds, do nothing strenuous, that I could not go to my niece’s graduation party that night. I hung up the phone and cried. No race. . . no people. . . .I was quaranteed for the weekend. I felt pretty sorry for myself.

But by the following week I was recovering and feeling stronger. I could run again. It was slow and labored, but I felt powerful just doing it. By the time I went back for my next round of chemo, I almost felt normal, running 3 or 4 days a week. Then the cycle would start again. 6 rounds of chemo. By the sixth round, my body was definitely saying “enough.” Tim and I would head out for a run with Willowbee. We’d run two blocks and I’d be gasping and have to walk a minute or two, then we’d start up again. It was so frustrating for me. I remember wondering if I would ever be the same again. Tim kept pointing out improvements that I was making every time we ran. At that time, Tim had hair past his shoulders. I loved his beautiful long hair. When my hair fell out he wanted to shave his head too, but I wouldn’t let him. I often thought how comical we must have appeared running down the street. . . the tall handsome man with the long flowing hair and the bald woman with her Chicago Marathon baseball cap on.

I finished chemo in August of 2005 and then began 33 radiation treatments. I went everyday after school for just over 6 weeks. I would lie there quietly thinking about all that radiation bombarding the tumor site. The technicians hid behind thick walls. I lay there totally exposed to this monster of a machine propelling God knows what kind of force through my body. During this time I ran my first post cancer race.. . . .the Race for the Cure in September. I won 3rd place in the survivors category, running 27 something in the 5K. I was thrilled. 4 of my kids and my husband also ran. It meant so much to me!

Radiation is subtle. . . it sucks your strength away. I found myself really struggling to run during radiation. I forced myself to run. . . it was painful. . . it was difficult.. . . I was exhausted. Finally one day Tim and I were running on a crisp cool Saturday. We had put in about 4 miles, when suddenly I felt my wings. My feet felt lighter and my pace sped up. Tim said, “She’s back! Baby you’ve got your rhythm back!” We ran 8 miles that day. I was fairly floating when we arrived home.

Passion or compulsion. Running has been both for me. I have definitely been obsessed by running. I am much more balanced now. I love to run, but I know when I need to back off and give my body time to heal. I’ve struggled the last three weeks with this awful virus. It has kept me from joining my fellow road warriors as much as I’d like to, but I feel like the cough is finally breaking up. I ran 3 miles on the track last night and was as happy as can be! Then dripping sweat, I walked downstairs to teach my Tuesday evening pilates class. The runners in my class all knew I had just run.  Runners can tell. Running can be such a healing, uplifting  experience. At least that’s how I see it. It carried me through my cancer journey. I am much slower post-cancer, but I also feel wiser in many ways. Life is a precious gift. Each day is a blessing. I am so happy to be here. . . to be 51 years old, a survivor, a road warrior, a runner, a lover of life, and someone who is very blessed to be loved by amazing children, a wonderful husband, and a very supportive group of family and friends. God has truly been very good to me!

Deb

P.S. Didn’t mean to write a book. . . .should have done chapters!

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