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!