Hi all, hope you are well.

I just returned from eight straight days of managing an annual meeting with three or four separate events daily and four or five hours sleep nightly.  It's a ton of work, but well worth it to see everyone enjoying themselves and getting a lot of actual work done as an organization.

I have to admit it was an eye-opener as well.  I've always loved life and appreciated all the little moments.  I also knew that having had bc gave me new insight into appreciating the finer aspects of life.  But I didn't realize how fully I had embraced that until last Sunday. 

As breakfast for about a 100 members began, we had low music in the background and a couple of mascots mingling through the croud.  One of those mascots was a dog.  (Human male inside big canine costume.)  Mostly he waved and shook hands with people.  Me, I step up and take his hands and we flowed into a soft waltz together.

Yes, I was in a full business suit, appropriate pumps, etc., and I was waltzing with a dog on at a Sunday morning educational session.  Some of the members (alas, mostly male) looked and smiled.  Some just looked.  I know they were thinking too much hard work had finally gotten to me.

Later that night, at the Chairman's function (roaring 20's formal theme, 200 people), the mansion character staff demonstrated the "charleston".  When they asked for volunteers I was first.  I did okay.  I didn't fall or stumble.  Even if I had it wouldn't have mattered.  I danced, I laughed, I had a good time even though I was working my watoosi off.

A woman I highly respect came up to me and said she had reached a conclusion.  Her observation was that women who have faced bc have a particular beauty about them.  I just smiled and told her I knew what it was.  We've learned to let go.  I let go of the inhibitors that would keep me from dancing with a dog or doing the Charleston with the actors.  I embraced the dance rather than became embarrassed by it.

Would I have done that pre-bc?  Probably.  I love to dance and enjoy the moment.  But I might have been a bit self-conscious about it at the same time.  Embarrassed that I enjoyed dancing....

Now, LOOK AT ME!!!!!!  WHHEEEEE - I'm dancing.

That said, I am still a survivor not too far out from my treatments and that kind of workload is taxing.  Thankfully I have all the beautful and caring women on this website who will understand when I say-

my armpit is lymphed out from the work and flying,

my feet are swollen and hurt from all the walking,

my scar tissue is irritated,

my muscles refuse to stop cramping,

my mouth is still dry,

my eyes are tired (We won't mention the bags under them)

my fingertips are tingly

my hotflashes are in full bloom,

And yes, I will dance to the elevator music as I head home early for a much needed and well deserved nap.