Kay, so, technically, I'm not really supposed to say, "I'm in remission," or "I'm a survivor" for like five more years. But here's the deal: the scans after my mastectomy showed no more cancer, anywhere else in my body. And, just to be safe, we kicked my body's butt with chemo, radiation, and now herceptin. I asked my I.F. oncologist, "So when can I say, 'I'm in remission'?" And he said, "You can say it now! As far as the scans go, you are in remission. You are cancer free."
I'm taking him at his word.
So my mom decided to throw me a Cancer-Free Parteeee. I suppose we could have called it, "The One Year Down and Hopefully We're Good Party," but that's not nearly as catchy, eh?
And leave it to my mom to figure out the coolest thing we could do - a tea party at a historic house in Idaho Falls! Apparently this business, where this lady has tea parties at her house, has been around since 1998. I wish I had heard about it sooner! It is so very, very cool. My mom throws the BEST parties. I really think she should be an event planner. For now, she is content to be Number One Mom and Grandma.
Mom decided to throw it when all my sisters were going to be around, but also in conjunction with my 20-year class reunion, because many of my old classmates are still in touch with me and really reached out to me when I was getting my diagnosis and going through chemo and all. We were only allowed strictly 20 people - no more - at the venue, so we did our very best to try to include everyone. I'm sure we missed someone, and that makes me feel badly. Please, don't be mad. Or, if you're mad, direct your anger at my mom. Haha! Just kidddddding....
When we arrived, the lady would choose hats for us that kind of coordinated with our outfits. Or you could pick your own. She had them all hanging on the walls. A lot of ladies brought their own hats to wear. My mom's was absolutely perfectly matched with her outfit:
Then we all settled down to have tea. The lady told us something really fascinating about the gloves that women would wear back at the turn of the century and earlier. When it came time to have tea, they would take the gloves off and lay them on the table. If a woman was married, the fingers of the gloves pointed toward the center of the table. If she was single and looking, one glove's fingers dangled from the edge of the table, with the other pointing toward the center of the table. If she was single and NOT looking, she laid them sideways, with the fingers pointing toward her plate. Fascinating, no?
And then we were left to mingle while we ate what I can best describe as Little Foods. There were several courses of little foods. My favorite were the British-style scones with freshly whipped cream dolloped on top. Oh baby. I could have eaten fifty of those things. Lex took the following picture, I believe.
The house is arranged such that there were two tables, one in each adjacent room, and that made me sad, because I wish we could have all been at one table. I wanted to talk with and hang out with every single person there! Maybe we should have done it like speed-dating. Ding! And the next darling friend to chat with. Haha! I get major FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), and I didn't want anything fun happening at the other table when I wasn't there, dang it! Apparently I missed the stand-up routine of Natott and Lextello:
My good friend/best-neighbor-ever/visiting teachee, Casady, was sur ma table, aussi:
All of these people were so good to me during some of my darkest times, and I was tickled to have them there with me.
After we had all eaten, the lady had us pass around this star thing and make a wish for me (me, me, me, me!), a wish for themselves, and a wish for someone else they know. Some people chose to keep their wishes private. Some people made really nice wishes for me; I was trying not to get choked up. Since I was the guest of honor, I got to make two wishes for myself and one for someone else. So I wished that 1) I'll never, ever, ever have cancer again, of any type, 2) That my lymphedema will go away, and 3) That my father-in-law will recover from his cancer treatment and live the rest of his life out in health and happiness. (Love you, Greg!)
Let's get to some more pictures. I love this one of my sesstras:
But seriously. Lady who wants to look like a cat:
Out front with the sisters, and mama, and the auntie:
Nicole, you look a bit like Carmen Sandiego in that hat. I like it. Jenny's hat was completely, perfectly matched to her dress. It was kismet.
We decided to take one in the true spirit of the turn of the century, with very serious faces, indeed.
Thanks, Ma Mere, for throwing me such a fabulous party. And thanks, ladies, for being there for me. I love each of you so much.