P.S

Ok, so I lied. I thought my previous post would be my last. But I decided I just had to write once more after I had one of the most amazing days of my life.

The Mother's Day Classic at The Domain in Sydney was amazing. There was a sea of pink and a spirit that was so strong. Hope flooded the atmosphere. It's incredible what a group of committed, like-minded people can do.

My family and friends met and lined up for the race with other supporters and survivors. And we walked. For me, for lives lost and lives saved. For future. For hope. For love. For a cause that touches far too many people.

I got chills. I smiled and laughed. And I cried.

Family members hugged me. Nik held my hand the entire event. Janette, my beautiful friend handed me my finishing medal at the end. People told me they were proud of me. And a complete stranger, a Bay Babe, watched Nik and I pin our tribute cards up on the tribute wall and cried. She stopped me and hugged me and told me I was special. I sobbed with her.

I loved every second of it. I'll be back next year, and the one after and each one for eternity. Until then, enjoy today's pictures.

Oh, and the picnic was perfect!

With love, hugs and thanks.

Sim

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Pic listing, from top to bottom

Jeff and Joan

Me with my race medal

Nik putting his tribute card on the tribute wall

Me putting my tribute card on the tribute wall

Nik's and my tribute calls hanging on the wall

Mum, me and dad

Janette and I

Jess, me and Clarissa

Nik and me from behind, wearing our tribute cards

Nik and I at the start of the race

See ya

It's with slight sadness and excitement that I write my last blog in the lead up to the Mother's Day Classic event. With the event on this Sunday, it's time to finish here.

I'm really excited about the race and can't believe I am a part of something so amazing. I'm looking forward to the buzz and cloud of pink on the day, and also proud to be walking in the event with Nik, my family and friends by my side.

But I'm also a little sad. I've enjoyed sharing my story with you here. Sometimes I find it hard to talk about things, but I don't have any problems writing. I've loved your support and reading your comments. It's been fun and added much sunshine to my life.

This isn't the last you'll see of me. I've been writing a journal since the day I found the lump. I write to help me heal and I also write with the intention of publishing a book about my experience, with 50% of the proceeds going to breast cancer research. So, keep an eye out in a bookstore near you - hopefully you'll see my book on the shelves in the next year!

With love, hugs and thanks.
Sim

Breast cancer club

I'm part of an exclusive club. The breast cancer club. Granted, not one I would've ever thought about joining, but one life signed me up for anyway.

The thing about this club is that every member knows another member upon sight, even if they haven't met before.

It's a knowing smile or a nod walking down the street, sitting in the waiting room at the doctors, curling up in the chemo chairs or passing each other walking in and out of the radiation centre.

Women who have been a member of this club are very good at spotting other members. Newer members like myself are a little slower identifying more experienced members. How do I know? Last week at the supermarket I was pushing a crazy trolley down the freezer aisle. A lady that I guessed to be in her 50s said to me, "It'll be alright." I just smiled back, in my own little world, until she said, "I've been through it too. Twice." Then it clicked. We stopped and had a chat. She's been in the clear for about five years now. Always like to hear that.

Although the breast cancer club isn't one that women are rushing out to join, it's one that members everywhere have embraced, and are lucky to have the love, support and experience of one another.

Picnic details

Are you ready for the Mother's Day Classic? There's only a couple of weeks left before we'll all be pounding the pavement for a pretty important cause. And of course, working up an appetite for our picnic afterwards!

So here's what is happening: bring your friends, family and food to Ramsgate Beach Park, opposite Ramsgate Coles. There's some shops where you can get supplies if need be. We're aiming to meet up around 1pm. We'll all have our phones. And we'll be decked out in Mother's Day Classic race clothing - so you can't miss us. Then we'll sit around and enjoy the rest of the afternoon in good company. I promise to bring some tasty baked goods to share. If it rains, all bets are off.

See you there!

Getting microwaved

For the last two nights I've been microwaved, or nuked, or zapped. Or if you want to use the technical term, undergoing radiation therapy. Treatment will continue for the next month or so.

It's a pretty weird experience. After the ray nurses set me up on the funny bed with my arm in the air, draw on me with texta, line my tattoos up, they leave and a big, heavy door shuts behind them. It's suddenly very quiet and lonely. And then some warning bells sound and an invisible beam zaps me. I can't feel it or tell if it is doing anything. The only reason I know it's on is because there's a whirring noise. In truth, it seems a little space age - the machine and the whole laser concept. But hey, if it works, I'm all for it.

There is a really nice touch to the treatment room that makes me smile. There's murals painted on the walls and ceiling. So when you're lying there, all alone, at least there's pretty pictures to look at.

Like all cancer stuff, it isn't fun, but the small touches like the paintings and the kindness of the nurses make it bearable. Plus the fact that Nik has rewarded me with a Freddo Frog for being brave after each zapping isn't to bad either!

Silver lining

Not many people would believe that there's a silver lining when it comes to things like cancer. But there is. In fact, I think there are many, many layers of nice, shiny lining.

Perhaps the most pertinent silver lining is being able to reassess my life. Nothing like a shock to the system like cancer to put things in perspective and teach me to focus on the important things.

I've mentioned it before, and I'll say it again. One of these layers is the abundance of love and support I've received.

Another is all the amazing and beautiful people I've met, who I wouldn't have if I wasn't diagnosed.

Being asked to blog for the Mother's Day Classic was yet another. I felt really special that the crew at the Classic wanted me to write about my experience during the lead up to the event.

Yesterday, another silver lining was unearthed. While sitting at chemo, my oncologist came to visit. I wasn't expecting her and was surprised when she came to my chair, as there's many of her other patients who have chemo the same day as me. She is holding a symposium on women and cancer later in the year and wanted a patient to be part of her panel. She thought of me. Me! I said yes in a heartbeat. I feel incredibly honoured.

Cancer, like life, does have its ups and downs. And good things do come from bad. There is always a silver lining - you've just got to keep your eyes (and heart) open.

The long reach of cancer

How many people do you know that have or have had cancer? In my immediate family, there are three. My dad and father-in-law both had melanoma. My mum had cancer in her eye. Include me and there are four of us.

Cast that net a little further to my extended family and the number increases by another four. My gramps had it and sadly died from it, Nik’s grandfather had it, and two aunties on Nik’s side had breast cancer it, but only one of them survived it.

Spread that a touch further to friends and family friends and the number jumps again. Suddenly, there’s another 10 people, including five more women with breast cancer.

That’s 18 people in my life. Far too many. And that’s just the people who have had it. Cancer changes the life of people around the patients too.

114,000 new cases of cancer are diagnosed in Australia each year. That’s 312 people a day.

Once again, far too many.

It just goes to show how important cancer research is, how crucial research funds are, and how vital a support network is. So sign up or support someone in the 2010 Mother's Day Classic and help do your bit.