Just plain weird.

My journey is unique. It's complex. It's hopeful, but it's just plain weird! I think I have little to complain about because I had a very kind & humble, skilled doctor looking over me. She wasn't afraid to ask for help when she knew she needed it for my best outcome. I believe that someone was watching over me. The fact that other skilled surgeons were available & came to her aid (or my aid) at just the right time simply blows my mind! Because I believe that all good things come from above, I thank God for aligning my stars.

The surgery began on time. Going in, everything looked good. I'd had bleeding. My sonogram showed a thickening of the lining of the uterus. My D&C was clean. My pre op tests were good (labs & EKG). My labs the morning of the surgery were good. I had my usual amount of anxiety, but I just figured that was normal. My biggest concern being, "What if she (my doctor) finds cancer? I could never have imagined what she found, & I'm not sure that sharing it is or isn't TMI? I don't even know how to word that question clearly. So... here goes. I'm going to be straight with you. If you want to judge me for TMI, I understand.

I am still traumatized by what the doctor found. It was the severest form of endometriosis that exists. My organs had all meshed together & fallen into my pelvis. I had a frozen pelvis. My organs could not be differentiated one from the other. The doctor is trained on a a Robot. If you google Robotic, you will see a machine that looks like it just walked out of a Star Wars movie.

As the doctor operated, she was not anywhere near my body. Rather, she was sitting at a screen with a joy stick commanding the little tools to meticulously cut the endometriosis out of me. By the grace of God, the Oncology OB GYN (also trained on a Robot) was nearby & able to assist. The 2 doctors worked side by side to cut pieces of frozen endometriosis from my pelvic area. As time went on, the General Surgeon was called in. Another surprise! My rectum had grown into my uterus.

The General Surgeon said it was too complicated for her so a Colorectal Doctor who also was trained on a Robot came to the good doctor's aid on my behalf. He dissected my colon, removed it from the uterus, & sewed it back together. "What the Heck?" I'm like, "Did this really just happen?" I also had a colonoscopy during all of this. Btw... my bladder is good. That got a look too.

I think I must have had 4 or so surgeries in one unexpected sitting. Waking up was hard for me. It took about 4 hours. Once I was placed in a room, I became so nauseated I couldn't move for the next 4 hours. In all I have been through, I have never known suffering like that. I hope I never have to face 1 minute like those 4 hours ever again!

I am now home. My prayer is that I won't get an infection. My pain level is just discomfort, not really even pain. Pottying is a little unnerving, but I believe that will resolve itself in time. If I have to have surgery again (which I may), I will be afraid. Severe Endometriosis has 7 tell tale symptoms. In all of my 56 years, I have never experienced 1 symptom. Apparently, my case was silent. As I recover, I expect some level of pain. I have had little to none. Just discomfort & trouble getting up out of my chair. Hopefully, my pathology will come back cancer free. I must give a shout out to Doctor Cameron, the other doctors who so kindly stepped in, all of my praying, caring friends, & the Good Lord Above for aligning my stars.

Tomorrow...

Tomorrow is my surgery. If you follow me on FB, you may already know that. I have debated on whether to write this blog or not. Why not? It's personal. It's private. I make myself vulnerable & entrust those who read this blog with not judging me for writing it. Why write? Because I try to live as transparently as possible without sharing information that isn't mine to share & without sharing information that would be hurtful to my loved ones. It's a fine line at times. Lastly, why write it? Because it's part of my story. Its part of what fuels my passion for Team Sweet Potatas, & I believe sharing it may somehow help another soul.

So... it's almost 24 hours before my surgery. My nerves have begun to unravel a bit. Still, I think I am doing pretty good for me. What's to fear? This surgery isn't so much about cancer as it is about the lasting effects of cancer treatment. Reality: cancer is always a concern, especially if you are a cancer survivor. Fact: God is bigger than whatever I am told when I awake. He already knows what I will hear. It will be no surprise to Him. As I was praying yesterday in church, I felt as tho' He reassured me that all will be okay. I will hold that close to my heart. He gives me strength.

In my younger years, my prayers were more like begging God that everything would be okay. As I have matured in my faith, I pray more that I will know God's presence, & I thank God that He will be with me whatever I am told. As the Anesthesiologist puts me out tomorrow morning, I will rest in Him. I expect to awake calmly & hear my news. Was the surgery done in the least invasive way as possible? Did the Dr see anything of concern? When will all of my pathology reports be available? What should I expect with my recovery (depending on how the Dr performed the surgery)?

I have prepared myself for this surgery as best I can. It is my choice, but given what I might experience if I don't do it, I have peace that I have made the best decision for my circumstances. I have stocked up on things you stock up on before surgery. I have entrusted my emotions to the Good Lord Above. Those darn emotions can get our of hand. For me, this journey isn't so much about the physical & medical aspects, it's about dealing with my emotions: fear, joy, grief, sadness, brokenness, surrender... It's about how the medical/physical aspects impact my emotions. It's a journey that for me & many other people who suffer from cancer or other illness is unending. It's about how it impacts my family, changes me, & changes my relationships. I think that's the best way for me to say it. I would appreciate input from other Survivors & people who suffer from disease. Is it the same for you?

Suffering...

This morning I checked into Facebook, and I was immediately reminded of my faithful friends who suffer, & of those who suffered but remained faithful to the end... Jenny, Elizabeth, Brenda, Bilinda, Amy, and now Mary. I spend much of my quiet time with the Lord praying for the loved ones of those who suffer & for the suffering. My journey is a journey barraged with others who share my journey. At times, I am overcome with grief for those for whom I pray. I am sure others can relate & are in a similar place.

I cannot take a moment of life for granted for myself or for anyone. Sometimes I know my own grief is too much for my loved ones to bear.  I get that so I don't always share what's troubling me. I take my sadness up with the Lord, & I believe He is where I find my peace. I believe there is a special place in Heaven for those who remain faithful in the Lord even as they suffer. I believe that place is eternal. I know our life on this earth is temporary, & I believe that Heaven is that place of "no more suffering, no more tears." I hold fast to that truth, & it brings me joy to contemplate eternity for those whose hope is in the Lord. 

Some of my thoughts may be foreign to those who read this blog. They may be rejected by some & others may respond, "to each his own." Some may say I am a fool while others may think I have gone off the deep end with my faith. Some will struggle with the inability to reconcile suffering with a loving God.  I accept the opinions of others. I embrace hearing them & respectfully discussing them.  I have a lump in my throat when a life is lost too soon or taken without warning. In all honesty, I question God when such sorrows are so immense. I don't pretend to have the answers, & I can only share how I navigate life.

If you are reading this blog, & my words seem foreign to you, I have something on my heart to share... Some of you who suffer may not understand what a relationship with the Lord looks like. Again, I can only share my story. As a small child I sang "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so." I believed this. It was simple. I was small. This little belief in a young heart grew as I grew & became the foundation for my life. I don't always get it right, but I try to be Christlike. I try to love others as myself. I try to love God with all of my heart, mind, soul, & strength. Sometimes I fail, & the remorse is not something I relish. It hurts.

What I most lovingly want you to know is that I turn to Christ when I am hurting, when I struggle, when I am confused, when I feel "let-down,", lonely or alone, when I have wronged another, when I need affirmation, assurance, wholeness, or when my heart breaks for myself or for another. I don't say this to "shove my faith down your throat" but rather as food for thought if you are suffering without the Lord. God is bigger than our hurt, our anger, bitterness, confusion, misunderstanding, resentment, emotional wounds, unhealthy bodies, etc. If we sincerely turn to Him, I believe we can find peace. We may not get the healing we hope for, the answer we are looking for, but our prayers are not in vain. We can find a peace that transcends our troubles, our broken hearts, our understanding, our sick bodies. It doesn't make sense. It just is what is. Trusting in Him is how I survive this world. 

As I write this blog, 10 women come to mind who have relentless metastatic cancer. Their journeys have hope, but their suffering, their fear, their emotional pain, their sick bodies, their physical pain, the toll taken on their loved ones, their treatments, their strength, their courage is unimaginable. Putting your hope in the Lord doesn't mean you'll be miraculously healed (although I believe that sometimes happens). It means you'll have the presence of our Heavenly Father in your life, Christ in your heart, & the Holy Spirit intervening in your life for good. I believe there is peace for you which transcends all understanding. If you have questions, concerns, doubts, etc, I'd love to try to find comfort for you in your suffering. Suffering without the Lord isn't something I can imagine. I want peace for you. 

What could have been...

Today something new to me happened. I got a glimpse of life without me. Not to be morbid, but today could have been my funeral. The fact that it wouldn't have been cancer that took me Home kinda of surprises me. I didn't expect to die in a car accident. As most of you know, I & an elderly man collided on Monday. He came barreling through the intersection making a left turn at top speed. There I was, traveling up University Street at 40 mph. I was lost deep in my thoughts. As I entered the intersection to cross it, there he was... an elderly man turning left right. in. front. of. me! My foot went for the break but only tapped it. Before I knew it, I heard a loud bang. I felt this deep force impact my heart. My car was whirling around, & then bam! It stopped. Smoke was coming from somewhere. I could smell burning. I must get out of this car. Little did I know, it was just the gunpowder from my deployed airbags. My car never did catch fire. It never exploded.

A man came from nowhere & asked me if I needed anything. As far as I knew, I was okay. Yes, I seemed okay. But wait a minute, what about the man that hit me? His head was bleeding (a lot). I grabbed my cane & made my way through the thick bumpy grass to him. "Are you okay?" Why yes, his head was spurting blood in 2 places, but he thought he was okay too. His head left an imprint in his windshield. I was worried about him, so worried about this sweet man. I was in shock, but I was still able to call my husband, talk to the paramedics, worry about this man, & refuse an ambulance. It was all so strange. It seemed horrible, yet I seemed okay?

My husband arrived. He had a 20 minute drive or more. By the time he got to me, I was teary. I was in shock. The policeman questioned me, & he upset me. It wasn't my fault. Why was he condescending? I had just been through Hell. Why would he say that to me? I couldn't make sense of this, & it really bothered me. I'm tender hearted, & I don't understand when people aren't nice. I know... I need to get my head out of the sand. It's not good to expect people to be nice to you just because you have a tender heart. Get real!

3 days have passed. My hand is broken. I have a chemical burn the size of a lemon on my arm. It has part of the bow tie Chevy emblem emblazoned in the skin. What the Heck! How did that even happen? I was a hot mess! My chest... it hurts to laugh. It hurts to take a deep breath, to cough, to move certain ways. My underarm on that side is sore too. Of course, it's from the seatbelt. The seatbelt snapped in place & kept me in place. The 2 things that hurt me were the 2 things that protected me, the airbags & the seatbelt. The Chevy emblem came from the steering wheel. When the airbag popped out, it burned my arm, & the emblem on the steering wheel branded it. Wow!

As we inspected my totaled car this morning & collected a few remaining items, I did some detective work. There, in the junkyard, I pieced a few things together, like the Chevy emblem on my arm. It made sense now. The seatbelt which held me in place is no longer engaged. The front end of the car took the beating for me. The Appraiser said the car did her job. She saved me. I stood there in the junkyard with my collection of odds & ends, a few toys, a pair of shoes, a scraper, a package of baby wipes... I realized that today could have been my funeral.

                                                   

"I just want it to be over!"

Recently, I was visiting with a newly diagnosed Breast Cancer patient who was looking forward to getting "it" all behind her. Part of the reason we connected was so I could help her manage her expectations. It's such a tender time being newly diagnosed. Everybody's case is so unique, but it's safe to say, if the patient is having surgery & chemo, she will have some long-lasting effects. Suffice it to say, when a newly diagnosed patient has the expectation of reaching the finish line (which is always the case), I have to think of the gentlest way to try to get her to frame a different "picture."

It's hard for a Survivor to wrap her head around the fact that this atrocity is not going to end. As a Survivor, she sets her eye on the end date, usually about a year (depending on the regiment prescribed for her case). Whatever the specifics, she may be bracing herself for surgery, chemo, & radiation (not necessarily in that order). She fixes her eye on that last treatment, & says, "I can do this; I will do this. For my family, my children, my spouse, myself... I will do this."

As I sit visiting with her, I know where her head is because I remember the most tender moments of my life. The early days of this diagnosis qualify. I don't want to traumatize her anymore than she already is, but I also don't want her to be mislead. My cousin who is so dear to me is also a Survivor. We reconnected after a lifetime (almost) through our Breast Cancer journeys. She was less than one year out, & I was about 4 years out. I remember how she kept saying, "I thought this would be over. I was so clueless until this happened to me. I just never knew."

I try to look the new Survivor in the eye with all the compassion I have for her (which is pretty much all of me) & quietly suggest that she might want to reframe her picture. I explain that as much as we want this journey to end, perhaps a safer or healthier way to picture "it," is to try to embrace it. I remember when my counselor suggested I look for the gifts along the way. I came home that day & wrote a blog that went something like this..."Can you believe it? My counselor told me to look for the gifts on this journey. What the Heck!"

Well... I'm 6 years down the road now. I look back & easily get a lump in my throat. I look at new Survivors, & my heart is heavy. My road continues. The journey does not end, not the fear, not the unknown, not the longterm effects... I am forever changed both on the outside & on the inside. The surprises keep coming, & I keep accepting them. I have no other choice. I surrender, but I hang on for dear life (sometimes by a thread). Some people get it. Some don't. My relationships are deeply impacted. I am sorry for those who have to hear my story over & over & over. BUT, I do believe the best advice I was ever given was to look for the gifts along the way. The treasures are many & the depth of those treasures are the trade-off for this journey.

It's not OK for you!

So... today it happened. I walked into Susan G. Komen Memorial Affiliate, & there it was! I had to wait to see it because I had to attend to a few other things first. There was Katie. There was Jeanette, and of course, Linda, & Jordan.  I didn't see Gail. I had to hug each one of them. I had to thank each one of them for their prayers, their words of encouragement, & for caring for me. I haven't been there for a while, & as I walked thru the doors, it felt like home. Home Sweet Home.

Unless you've had a reason to walk thru these doors in the shoes of a Survivor, you might not understand what this place means to me.  It's a refuge. It has an atmosphere that welcomes the Survivor, & says, "I am here for you." When I think of the story of Susan G. Komen & why & how this organization was founded, I understand the meaning of leaving a legacy. There is a saying that "A legacy is not something you leave for people. It's something you leave in people."

Over the last 6 years, I have thought about the legacy I hope to leave. The women I mentioned above... Katie, Jeanette, Linda, Jordan, & Gail. They & a few others are leaving a legacy. Not only are they carrying on the legacy of Susan G. Komen, they are doing it with their own touch (each of them). The older I get, the more thankful I am for compassion & understanding. When I walk thru these doors, I see pink (my favorite color). I see these women working so hard on my behalf. One of them (the youngest) is a Survivor. They all have a heart for the Survivor.

Because of them, I am alive. They represent HOPE. They know so much about this awful disease, & they give their lives to that one day it will be eradicated. I don't know why they care so much. Yes, they earn a salary, but I believe they give far more than they take. Yes, they have to live, to put food on their tables, & support families. Many volunteer to help, but these women; they never stop. I think when they awake in the middle of the night, they ponder what they can do to find this much needed cure. Why do they care so much?

When I donate my own $ to this cause, I know that it is well used. When I ask friends to donate, I believe in this cure. It is just around the corner. I want it so bad! I want it for my daughters, for my grand daughters, for my cousin, for my fellow Survivors, for my friends, for the people who will come after me. You see, people who never knew me went before me. They tried to find a cure for me, & they didn't even know me. I don't know who the next Survivor will be. Will it be someone I love?

Lump in throat. I cannot bear the thoughts of this. It's worse than my own cancer returning. I have walked this journey for 6 years. If you know me deeply, you know what it's done to me. I have embraced this journey. Even tho' it's currently wreaking havoc in my life, I still embrace it. It's okay for me, but "NO, it's not OK for you!" I finally got to it. My Pink Shirt! I can't even begin to explain what this Pink Shirt means to me. No words for that!

in the quiet

As the day winds down, dusk comes, & the dust settles. My heart begins to quiet as it continues to process the news of the day. I now have a date for my procedures. It is a month away, & I have to be okay with that. It's complicated as it always is for everyone. Nothing is simple in the world of medicine. I have been doing this for 6 years now. It's time I "let go" of the things I cannot control. We don't always get our way in life, & I believe it's important to be a good sport.

So I will wait, & I will apply the things I have learned that make the wait a bit easier. I will keep busy, pray, refocus, focus, listen to uplifting music, live in the moment... I will enjoy my grand babies & plainly do the best I can. It isn't the procedures that bother me. I will be put out. It's waiting for the results that gets me every time. I wish medicine could alleviate the anxiety of waiting, but I will not bank my hopes on that.

As for the procedures. I'll be honest. I don't want them. Many women have said, "Oh, I've had that. It isn't bad."  I'd like to believe them. I do, but we each have our own story, our own baggage, & who knows what the impact will be on me? Will cancer be found? Will lymph nodes be involved? If the answer to either of those questions is yes, what will I do? How will I respond? What am I willing to endure?

There's 2 sides to every health issue, the emotional side & the medical side. Both have a great impact on one's overall well being. There are 2 sides to every doctor, their knowledge, & their bedside manner. Both impact the overall well being of the patient. It's so much to process, so much to think about, so much to put on the back burner & live life to the full regardless of the answers to those questions. And, I suppose there are 2 sides to every patient, the side others see & the side that's tucked away in the quiet of the heart...

It's the place a friend or loved one sees only if invited. I believe it's sacred. It's the innermost part of a human, perhaps it's the soul. The way the soul responds is everything. It determines what the person gives to others, what she shares, perhaps her eternity.  It determines the well being of the person in spite of  her circumstances. It allows the person to say, "It is well with my soul. It is well."

That's its personality.

You've heard of MBC. I'm guessing that unless you have Metastatic Breast Cancer or love someone who does, you may not really know what it's about. As the current commercial says, "It's relentless." I have watched this relentless disease take the lives of a few close friends, & the lives of a few friends I can only wish I knew better. It's too late.

I must pay tribute to a few... Jenny, Elizabeth, Brenda, Bilinda, Amy. Some of these women were young & had young children. Some were in my age range with grown children & perhaps grand children. I have 2 friends now with metastatic breast cancer. I admire both of them so much. I believe they both have teenagers. One of them defines positivity & the other, fierceness. I believe it takes both of these qualities to survive MBC.

There seems to be similar threads to each breast cancer journey. Each person's story is unique, but as God has blessed me to know these remarkable women, I have picked up on some signs which make my heart sink, signs which make me know that the odds are not so good or just took a sudden dive. It's hard to understand. Life is hard. When the breast cancer cloud rests over your family's head, things are never quite the same, especially if it becomes metastatic.

So what is metastatic? Metastatic means the breast cancer has metastasized. It has gone to another part of the body & taken up residence with the desire to multiply & grow. That's its personality. By this time, it's usually aggressive, relentless. So where does this insidious disease land once it leaves the breast? The most common sites are brain, blood, bones, & liver. However, it's been known to show up in other places too.

All of the amazing women mentioned above fought to the end. They tried chemo after chemo until the list was exhausted. Then, they became candidates for experimental drugs. They never gave up. They fought for the love of their families. They hung on for one more day, day after day. Their quality of life was deeply impacted, but for one more day with their beloved family, they hung on. As I remember each of them, I could be more specific because it seems each of them transitioned into the Heavenly realm in their own way, yet in similar fashion. I am going to stop here out of respect for each of them & because it's too painful for me to recount.

Susan G. Komen has a goal to decrease MBC by 50%. If you donate to this cause (my cause), your contribution will go toward research, toward helping local Survivors receive much needed screening & care, & other things too. You can look on the website & get the specifics. From my point of view, research is what will save lives. Science is on the brink of much in this department, but the answer still has not been found. Yet, we get closer & closer. What will it take to eradicate Breast Cancer?

It will take success in treating remarkable women like Jenny, Elizabeth, Brenda, Bilinda, & Amy... With each success, we will be one step closer. Each time someone donates to my team, I get a bit excited. My heart begins to race. My eyes well up a little bit. I thank God. It warms my heart because I know that person cares about me & about my cause. It's a simple way to bless another person, yet it means more than you could know unless you too are a Survivor or love a Survivor.

She cries...

Yesterday, I cried. It's okay to cry. I believe crying is healing. It was a hard day, not because I received terrible news. I didn't. It's just that my reserves are low from an accumulation of health issues, & what the doctor said I needed was too much to hear (at that moment). It was another act of surrender for me, & I knew that was my only choice. There were no options. This is the order of how we proceed. For my good, we cannot skip a step. I'm impatient at my best. At that moment, all I heard was more waiting. I just want to be done. I don't want my mind to be consumed with this another day. Too bad for me. Surrender.

I believe that an important component of the breast cancer journey is surrender. We talk so much about the fight. "Fight like a Girl!" Yeah, before the tornado, I had a pink ball cap I loved to wear. It said, "Fight like a Girl." Back then, it was about fight. "Never give up! Kick cancer in the butt!" You know... this whole attitude is prevalent amongst cancer survivors & their cheer leaders. Truth is, that's not who I am. I am strong (most days). Most days, I would like to kick cancer from here to Texas. But truly, I'm much more about surrender than fight.

If you think about it, fighting takes much more out of our bodies than surrender. Yes, most everyone wants the cancer patient to fight. It seems the natural, admirable thing to do. It seems right. You've been dealt this hand, now fight. Boss that cancer back, & tell it where to go! Yes, I think we who walk this journey have all felt that way. It's not that I too don't feel that way; it's just that I walk this life in relationship with my Lord & Savior. It isn't that I think He doesn't want me to fight. I believe in gratitude, & I am grateful for every day; yes, even the bad ones.

However, I think my Lord offers me another way. It isn't giving up. It isn't lack of gratitude for each breath I am given. No. It's an acknowledgment of what is within my power to change & what is not. It isn't about resentment toward cancer or hating it. It's about a relationship with the Lord that gives me strength for each day. It means I don't have to be strong. I can be weak. I can cry. I can process my news, & I don't have to like it. I can be angry or bitter for a while, but in time, I simmer down. I place myself back in God's hands, knowing He has the whole picture. I don't. I rest in Him. I am conscious. I am alive. But I don't have to fight. I don't have to resent, to hate, or even be strong. I can simply just be. I can rest in Him, knowing that whatever comes my way, He (at the very least) allowed it.

This doesn't make me mad at Him. No. I believe my life is my story, my calling. I hear God saying that I am to live my life to the full (whatever that means for me). I am to trust in Him. I do. It's okay to be filled with fear, to cry, to have a complete meltdown. It's okay to hate cancer, but I have a choice. My choice is to see the gifts along the way. I promise you, the treasures you find on this journey, & the stuff you pull out of yourself, they are more than you could ever expect. They are brilliant surprises that give you strength for the next thing. They are the gifts you hold on to. They teach you how to take your next step. They give you a deep sense of what matters & what doesn't. They are where I meet God, & I thank Him for my journey, because without this journey, I would never know Him the way I do.

It's incomplete, but I must share...

Dear Friends (those who care, those who pray, & those who share encouraging words),

I am writing this blog as a letter to you because it is very personal to me as is my gratitude for each of you. I don't have a final answer to my health problems, but because you care, I want you to know what I know. My purpose in writing this blog has always been to increase awareness in others so that they may not be caught off guard if they end up on a journey similar to mine, called LIFE. Of course, you can never prepare yourself for certain types of news (good or bad) or for how you will handle these unpreparable situations in life.

I have good news to share that came in a very round-a-bout way. I won't get into the specifics, but I am thankful God works in mysterious ways. I think it is safe to say at this point that NO CANCER was found. For this I am eternally grateful. I can handle what's next in this department even tho' I don't yet know what that is.  It may take some time to get an answer. You know how doctor's offices work. I admit that I am an impatient person. I like answers. I like to know what's ahead of me so I can prepare my heart & mind. Sad for me & for others out there who are wired like me, but that is NOT how the world works (especially the medical world). There is no way around it. Waiting is hard for many. Some of us are better at this than others. If "practice made perfect," I'd be much better at it!

My oldest daughter pointed out to me when I shared my last blog that I should share the details of what I'm going thru so that others may know & be aware. She thinks that many women would not know to call the doctor if "this" happened to them. For that reason, I have chosen to share. Suffice it to say, sharing the specifics is not within my comfort realm, but I feel lead to do so. It's simple. One day I was having a really good day, spending time with family & grandkids, out & about, enjoying life. When I got home, I noticed (when I went to the bathroom) that I had some spotting. Immediately, my inner alarm sounded. I knew this wasn't good, but I didn't think it merited what followed in the days ahead...

The next step was a pelvic ultrasound. A uterine biopsy followed that. News just came yesterday that no cancer was found. I am so grateful for that news alone & for the person who was willing to give me my results. Being able to breathe that sigh of relief was nothing I would ever take for granted. Plain & simple, I am grateful. The next step may be nothing. It could mean a change in medication, a procedure, or surgery. These options do not induce fear in my soul. I know I can get thru them, & I will. The thoughts of cancer shook me pretty badly. It didn't rattle my faith. I am not afraid of dying. It just took the wind out of my sails. Of course, I began to imagine leaving my grandchildren & how they would be impacted by my passing. My counselor says this is a human response, actually quite normal. Other Survivors have been kind enough to share this path with me. I know the outcome of that, & that scares me for my loved ones. Not that they can't do life without me, I just want to be here to pour into them & share life with them. I believe that is all in God's timing, not mine.

In closing, I can NEVER adequately express the meaning of your kindness in my life. It puts the wind back in my sails. It fills my heart with warmth. It lifts my spirit & assures me that I am not alone. It takes my breath away (but in a good way)! Heartfelt love too all of you. Please know I love to pray for you too!

Love, Susie

She waits...

It happened almost a few weeks ago. Suddenly a new symptom. Do I call my doctor? Maybe it's nothing. I don't know what to do. Is it cancer? Has it come back? Maybe I'm jumping the gun. I don't want to get ahead of myself. One step at a time. I call the doctor. I go for a test. I get a biopsy. Now I'm waiting. The results will take 1-2 weeks. What's next?

If you are a cancer survivor, these thoughts may have crossed your mind. After all, if it happened once, it can happen again. To all survivors, I ask, "How do we wait?" Do we google? We don't have enough knowledge to understand what we read, but the temptation! Everybody does it. Doctors expect it.

Keeping busy? That helps. If I keep busy, my mind stays occupied. If I live in the moment, I'm NOT robbed of my joy. I focus on the present, not the future. If I look into the eyes of my pets, I feel better. If I take a moment to talk to them & pet them, I feel better. If I listen to my grandchildren, I can't help but laugh. If one of them hugs me, kisses my cheek, or calls my name, it's like magic. I can even forget my troubles. When I interact with them, they are all I see. They capture me, all of me.

What do I do when anxiety rolls in (without my permission)? I try to refocus. I've gotten better at this. I've had practice. It helps. It's become a habit. I have a choice. I don't have to live in the fear of my future. I can think about other things. I have a respit.

I have family. I have daughters, cousins, & friends. They care about me. They are here for me. It's okay to share my fears with them. They can take it. I don't have to be strong. They know me. They don't judge me for my frailties. They listen, they pray, they bear my burdens with me. They make me feel better. They are my escape. I love them. I need them. I lean on them. I pray for them.

I must ask myself, "What can I control?" The answer, nothing. This is out of my control. I cannot control the outcome. I did nothing to bring this on myself, & if I did, it's water under the bridge. It doesn't matter now. No, now the only thing within my power is how I wait. Again, I do have a choice. I have chosen to put myself in the Lord's hands. I trust Him. He has the whole picture. I don't.  I trust that whatever befalls me. He is with me. I pray. I know that His presence is my everything. With Him, I am okay even if I am not okay. He is with me.

I cry twice as hard.

This morning I pour out my broken heart for the loss of yet another beautiful soul in this world. She was a tough one. Many times on her FB page, her friends refer to her as their "Badass" friend, girl, chic... When I first met her 6 years ago, I immediately sensed that she had a larger-than-life personality. Now, I mourn because I missed out on knowing her better. After reading the almost endless comments from all who knew & loved her, I am certain I should have been a part of her tribe (as she called it). There's so much I admired about her spirit. She was a one-of-a-kind kick-cancer-in-the-rear kind of girl.

She wasn't supposed to leave us so soon. I have said this before, but I would be remiss if I didn't say it again. The CURE didn't come soon enough for her. She needed it. Her children needed her to have it! Her husband needed it! Her parents even needed it. Why oh why do we NOT have a CURE? How many more women will die from BC before our long awaited CURE is found? How many more young children will lose their mamas? How many more spouses will become widowed? How many parents will say an untimely good-bye to their daughters, the beloved mama of their grandchildren? Since Christmas, this is the 4th woman I've known to lose her life to to BC. In just the last 3 weeks, this is the 3rd mama with young children to die.

Two years ago we were told there was a cure just around the bend. We've heard on the news that with the genome typing of cancers, we are getting closer & closer. Yes, the DNA of certain cancerous tumors can be typed. Then, the proper chemo given, & that cancer can be stopped DEAD in its tracks. RESEARCH is getting closer, so let's pour $ into RESEARCH & get this figured out. It's NOT ROCKET SCIENCE! More dollars to RESEARCH ='s LIVE'S SAVED! It will mean less suffering, fewer young children losing their mamas, fewer spouses becoming widowed too early on in their marriages, & a decrease in the # of parents who have to bear this unimaginable burden of saying good-bye to their daughters.

When cancer takes a kind soul, a compassionate soul, a spunky feisty soul, one with a heart of determination, one far too young, one which leaves young children without a mama, I think I cry twice as hard. Amy was all of these things. She had a magnetic personality, light-up-the-room kind of spirit. She included everybody in her tribe. She knew each day that her life was a gift, & she lived each day accordingly. "Dear God, Please comfort her grieving family. The emotional toll of this disease is too much for any family (for any patient) to bear. I pray that you will take this cup from us, & take it soon. I pray that I don't have to write another blog pouring out my heart & saying yet again, 'The CURE didn't come soon enough' for one more beloved friend." Amen.

PLEASE GIVE to make RESEARCH happen.

It would never be the same...

This particular week began on Sunday night, August 14, 2011 at bedtime. It turned out to be perhaps the most emotionally intense week of my life. We had just gotten in bed, the 2 of us & our beloved Black Lab, Dolly. My husband put his arm around me & said, What the heck?" I said, "What?" in a panicked voice. He told me he felt a lump. I jumped out of bed complete with electrical currents running through my body. I was quite sure it was a seam in my pajama pocket so why was I so scared? I soon realized my pajamas had no pocket. I realized I had a lump. Next I tried to convince the 2 of us that it was probably a benign cyst like our daughter had just a year earlier.

I laid my head on my pillow & felt horrified. I resolved to call the doctor in the morning. I got in with the PA. She suggested I just keep an eye on it. It felt like it was floating & was probably hormonal. I was relieved (for a moment), but that panic stricken feeling quickly returned. I told the PA I preferred to get a mammogram for my own peace of mind. Thank God I did! Just a month sooner we had been on a cruise having the time of our married life. Little did I know that those days were over. We were about to enter the most stressful years of our marriage. Just for the record, 7 months earlier, I had a mammogram that was clean.

That Monday morning as I headed to the diagnostic center, I prayed. I called my husband, & he met me there. I called my friend & asked her to pray for me. She thought I sounded shaken, so she headed there too. Meanwhile, I was by myself receiving news that would turn my world upside down. My husband was not allowed back with me. My friend arrived, & being a female, she was allowed to join me. My husband waited alone in the waiting area. The nurse went to comfort him & suggested he take me wherever I wanted to go on the way home. I was having a lump biopsy & a lymph node biopsy. I was so scared.

With each day of that week, a new word was heard. I felt as if I were hearing a foreign language. With each day, a new fear was founded. By the end of that painful & frightening week, I knew my lump was the size of a walnut. It had uneven margins. It was Her2Nu positive, Estrogen positive, & aggressive. It was Inductal Carcinoma. It was invasive. If we did nothing, I would soon lose my life. Chemo, surgery, & radiation would be necessary. I felt like throwing up. My husband had a pained look on his face which I had never seen before but would become his common expression throughout the years that followed. I knew I was in over my head, & I was in trouble. I became very vulnerable & overwhelmed. My life had changed. It would never be the same.

Common Threads

                                                      THE  SURVIVOR

survivor's guilt
Guilt
FEAR
numb
confused
broken
stunned
PTSD
heavy heart
cloud
brain fog
loss of security
gratitude
stress
new me
old me
not me
divorce
separate
break up
become stronger
closer than ever
neuropathy
tired
weary
depressed
anxious
nauseated
queazy
overwhelmed
sad
ANXIOUS
antidepressants
anxiety
isolated
alone
lonely
bald
thin
over weight
under weight
loss of appetite
light headed
unable to think
unable to read
unable to focus
insomnia
can't stay awake
fatigue
worried
can't sleep
can't shut mind off
joyful
laughter
thankful
blessed
pink
DOCTORS
MEDICINE
chemo
chemo brain
steroids
massage
side effects
symptoms
therapists
counseling
hurt
changed relationship
sick
dread
nervous
shaved
hats
wigs
tattoos
reconstruction
surgeons
fat graphs
mastectomy
liposuction
stitches
blood counts
Labs
tumor marker
scared
FAITH
support group
echocardiograms
X-rays
MRI's
PET scans
lopsided
not symmetrical
implants
expanders
flaps
skin graphs
lumpectomies
radiation
Red Devil
Tamoxifen
damaged skin
lymph nodes
metastatic
brain
liver
lungs
blood
biopsy
sleeve
lymphedema
angry
bitter
weeping
dysfunctional
determination
strong
BEAUTIFUL
grace
dignity
blame
diet
nutrition
changed
self-evaluation
self-blame
blistered skin
red skin
pain
pain meds
raw skin
shrunken skin
prosthetic
bra
braless
brittle nails
google
perseverance
bedside manor
insurance
bills
mutation
social worker
breast navigator
mammogram
sonogram
biopsy
case worker
thinning hair
prayer
new friends
bonds
melt downs
Hospice
death
will
Survivor
HOPE
Research
axillary dissection
sentinel lymph node
incision
breast sparing
nipple sparing
tweaking
DONE!
not done
remission?
prognosis
diagnosis
reoccurrence
rate of reoccurence
percent of reoccurrence
borders
margins
CURE
palpable
LUMP
itching
inflammation
Infection
rejection
PORT
CT Scan
low counts
susceptible
let down
loss of friendship
self breast exam
misunderstood
misunderstand
suicidal thoughts
new friends
surrender
fight
cry
BrCa
hereditary
children
sisters
mothers
genetics
invasive
stage
type
"What did I do wrong?"
"How could I have prevented my cancer?"
"What caused this?"
Will "it" come back?
"What will I do if..."
"Why me?"
"Why not me?"
new normal
no where near normal
not normal
family chemistry
uncertainties
The Race
forlorn
betrayed forgotten
loved
supported
cared for
nurtured
MANAGE
Radiation
changes
explaining
INTIMACY ISSUES
FRIENDS that UNDERSTAND
Insignificance
Bracca Carrier

Queen "B"

This evening, for the first time in a long time, I am writing a blog. This particular blog is for a sweet friend (gone to soon). I know some of you are thinking, "Here we go again!" Some of you are so sick of breast cancer awareness, you don't want to be aware! Some of you are so sick from breast cancer, you want to scream your disgust from a mountaintop! You've been robbed of much, & truth is, when will it end?

2 years ago, @ a Race for The Cure, a speaker told my friend that we were less than 5 years away from a cure. I took that little tidbit of information, & I've held on to it for dear life! Could we be that close to a cure, to a world without breast cancer, or is that something we can only imagine?

The Cure didn't come fast enough for my sweet friend, Bilinda Jean Kelly. I believe she went to the ER this past Christmas Eve. She had plans to begin yet another chemo, but she was fast becoming too ill to withstand the treatment. Instead of a new chemo, she went home, & Hospice became the answer to her family's prayers. She did not make it to ring in the New Year.

Her suffering came to an abrupt end after a 4 year journey filled with uncertainties, tears, fear, sadness, & an incredible amount of joy in spite of her circumstances. You see, she was loved beyond measure by her beloved husband & her adoring daughter. I know their hearts still ache with grief, but peace can reign in their hearts for 2 reasons. #1. They loved her well. #2 She had a faith that held up while the rivers of trouble kept flowing. Time after time, she received hopeless news. Time after time, her family loved her through their sorrows. She never gave up. In the end, she had no choice. It was time. Her # was called.

I wonder how many more #'s will be called before we have our Cure? Will my # be called? Will my family have to grieve for me? Will I miss out on my precious grandchildren?  Will I grieve because I know my days are numbered? I am not afraid to ask these questions. I am not afraid to die. I am afraid to leave my family & my little ones with aching grieving hearts because The Cure didn't come soon enough. We are close. Perhaps Team Sweet Potatas will be enough. Perhaps this year, the Race for The Cure will push the bar, & the Cure will come. Wouldn't you like to be a part of that!