The end

Today I had 2 cupcakes.  Well, not really.  Today I ate the icing off 2 cupcakes—big difference in my world.  I love icing.  More specifically, I love Apple Annie’s icing.  I could buy a cake and just eat the icing. Oh wait, I have done that and it was good!   Anyway, back to the why I ate the icing off the cupcakes.    

I saw Dr. Lynn today for my 6 month checkup.  Which meant last week I had my 6 month mammogram which also meant I saw Dr K 2 weeks ago for my 6 month check up with him.  Since Dr K was first, I’ll start with him.  The week before I was to see him, I got a call stating my appointment needed to be moved and I was going to see a PA.  I pulled rank and said no way, I was seeing Dr K and they could move my appointment, which she did and I got to see him.  As always, it was a good visit and this time I actually had him laughing from the gut.  I told him how I had had a biopsy the last time I saw Dr Lynn and how I kept yelling ouch when she stuck me even though it did not hurt.  He knows her so he loved it.  Anyway—he said I will see you in 6 months and you are doing great.   1 down, 2 to go.

The mammogram was last week and all I will say is I was squished good. And for the first time since July 2011, I had a normal mammogram.  Of course I started laughing as we all know how that normal one turned out.  Still, it was nice to see it in writing. Fast forward to this morning when I got to see Dr Lynn.   After we do our normal how are things and catching up, she says all is good and she will see me in 6 months.   It is not until I get to checkout that I realize she has not scheduled me for a 6 month mammogram.  I questioned the nurse and she said I was back to the once a year routine.  Just like that. 

So I decided I needed to celebrate and I decided icing would do the trick.  And as I sat there looking at my cupcakes before I attacked them, I realized for the first time since it all started in December 2011, I felt normal and most importantly of all, I felt safe. 

And on that note, I am ending this blog.  I hope and pray I will never need it again, but if I do, I do.  When I first started, it was to keep people in the loop.  It then became an outlet for me, something I needed more than I ever realized.   Sometimes I read it just to remember.  Other times I read it to remind myself I did it.  To this day, I still feel it was doable, but I am beginning to realize I really did go through hell and it really was more serious than I made it out to be. 

I am humbled beyond measure that so many people joined me on my journey via this blog.  Thank you for your prayers, your thoughts and your presence.  The support, both near and far, was amazing, and, at times, overwhelming.  I am so very, very blessed.

 

I wanted a perfect ending.  Now I’ve learned the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. 

Gilda Radner

 

Ties that Bind

Mark became my cousin when my Aunt Sue married his father, my new Uncle John in 1971 (We also got Jonathan and Laurel in the deal too. Stevie came later.  He was not part of the deal, but we were stuck with him anyway).  He was one year older than me and he drove me nuts. And in all fairness, I drove him nuts too.  We enjoyed annoying one another – it was who we were.  Don’t get me wrong, we got along fine—we just liked to pick!  And I never needed him more than I did when I was diagnosed. I needed to talk to him, to get his thoughts, and for him to tell me how to do it.  But I couldn’t.  He died of lymphoma Palm Sunday, April 13, 2003 at the age of 39. 

            While he was not physically here to talk to, he left me with enough to work with and I always knew he was there.  Back when he was sick, his wife Debi would updated everyone with a newsletter called Pure Joy—based on James 1: 2-4 which is  “Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”  It became one of my favorite verses and one I have always fallen back to. 

            There are so many memories – all the Christmas mornings spent up in Owego, skating on Brick Pond, that silly Sun Fish on the lake, going through those “tunnels” from Little Laurel Lake to Big Laurel Lake, sledding onto the lake—my back still hurts just thinking about that one—the camping trip out west and so on and so on. There were happy times, there were sad times, but we were family and we go through it.  One of my favorite memories is not a fun one- but it meant so much to me—even back then.  I was at the lake house with Laurel when Dad died.  Without telling us, someone came to pick us up and take us back to the Owego house, where Aunt Sue and Uncle John told us about Dad.  However, I knew before they told us—only because Mark had given me a hug when we walked into the house.  He was 13 and I was 12 and trust me, there had to be a reason for him to hug me.  But it calmed me.

              When Mark was diagnosed, I was not too worried. I was too caught up in my own little world to worry about it.  I just prayed and assumed God would let him live—after all, he was young and had 4 young children.  Then it got worse and the realization we would lose him became clear.  And through it all, he kept his faith and he smiled—a smile that lit everything up (and all of those who knew him are smiling right now—deny it Marti!).   I never fully understood until I got cancer—then I got it.  There were many days I had questions for him and needed his guidance—and honestly, all I had to do was think back as to how he handled it and I had my answers.  And it always went back to faith and humor—something I could relate to.  When I lost my hair—I had a vision of Mark and Dad side by side laughing that I definitely was not up to their bald standards.  At least I had the wigs—they had nothing! 

            As I said before, Mark died on Palm Sunday—so fitting – and all I could think of was he was in heaven for Holy Week and he would be celebrating the Last Supper too.   From that day forward, I have never, ever been able to take communion without thinking about Mark.  Sometimes I smile, sometimes I tear up, but I always, always think of him and again, I am always overcome with this calmness. 

            Mark would be proud of Debi and the kids.  He would have loved to see his nieces and nephews and he would have loved to have just been here.  One of the last times I saw him, he was reading a Vince Flynn book—when he died, all I could think of was Mark will never know how the series ended.  Ironically, Vince Flynn died last year and never did finish that Mitch Rapp series. And I bet Mark asked him and now he knows and I have no clue.  Figures.

 Happy 50^th birthday and someday we shall pick at each other again.  

All gifts come from above

Today it hit me—every chemo, every test, every needle, every hospital stay, every time I assumed that damn radiation position, every flipping thing about my cancer hit me and for the first time ever—I thought, well crap… I could have died.  Obviously I didn't, but I could have. 

 Today, a sweet, loving woman who showed me what grace and courage was all about, lost her battle with breast cancer.   While she was originally diagnosed a few years ago and seemed to be in remission, she fell ill again this year.  She encouraged me, she gave me hints, and she knew and understood what I was going through and she was one of my heroes.  And because of her, I finally came face to face with what I went through.

It started gnawing at me this morning in church when Pastor Bill came to me before the service and told me it was serious.  I sat there thinking and well, it snowballed from there.  A series of events unfolded and by the first line of the first hymn, I had tears falling and well, I picked my stuff up and walked out.  Of course I could not leave due to that little, itty bitty annoyance of having to teach my Sunday School class, but as soon as I got to the hallway, I was feeling better… plus Jessica, the other poor soul who shares the class with me, was out that as was baby Lilly—and we all know a baby can just melt the blues away.   As always, the kids were able to keep my mind from drifting too far.   

Pastor Bill was on his way to the hospital and told me he would call me later.  I was jumpy and although I should have spent some time at work, my mind was elsewhere—so I went walking on the beach.  It was as I was walking I got the news… she was gone and it was peaceful. And I cried.  And I could not stop crying—I cried for the family, I cried for her friends, I cried for her and I cried for me.  And then, I stopped and looked out over the ocean and thought about today’s lesson in which we talked about God’s creations and how we need to take care of them.  We talked about how God knows everything—down to and including the hairs on our head (and yes, there is always one who says something about bald people—I was not disappointed) and before we left, I told them to remember that we are God’s creations too and we need to take care of others as God would want us to.  

Pastor Bill called me right about then and told me this—it was peaceful and she was covered with the quilt the quilters had made for her (she was one of them) and all I could do was smile and think wow, how awesome.  There was so much love in that quilt and she was surrounded with that love and she knew. 

Life is a gift.  And today, I realized how truly blessed I am to be here.  Humbling too as today was also the first time I asked myself why was I allowed to live (remember, I never thought I was going to die, so I never allowed myself to even go there).  I sure hope I can do whatever it is I am here to do and not screw it up royally. Then again, I can always go back to the lesson on how God always forgives.

John 14:27

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

Rest in peace Nicole and thank you.

Ultra sounds, biopsies and icing shots oh my!

And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? Luke 12:25

During the whole cancer thing, I never worried.  I had to do what I had to do and that was it. I had to get a port, I had to lose my hair, I had to get chemo, and I had to get radiation — see the trend?  Besides, I was (still am) surrounded by worriers who were (are) willing to share the joy so why not indulge them.  In April, as I was going for that first mammogram after almost 2 years-- Mom asked me if I was nervous or worried.  Nope—and I honestly meant it.  Never occurred to me there could be something wrong. 

Fast forward to Thursday, October 17 and my 9:45am appointment for what I thought was a diagnostic mammo and again, I was not nervous or worried.  Of course I left my paperwork at home and of course I opened my big mouth when she said the ultra sound tech would be with me shortly.  I just had to say, “Gee, I thought I was getting a mammogram.”  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  So the call went out to Lynnette who said Dr Lynn said go ahead and do it (of course she did—anything to inflict pain—remember this for later).  And to think I could have avoided that crap.  I will never learn, will I (shut up Heather).  All went well and I went to work.  A little flat, but doing well.  I was all set to get the results when I saw Dr Lynn the following Thursday.

I got the first letter on Monday.  It stated there was an area they would like to look at again, but not to worry as this happens quite often and is usually nothing.  I was good with it—heck, Pia (ah the memories of the nicknames) was filled with scar tissue—as was pointed out during the April mammogram.   Then came Wednesday—the second letter—the one which made me call Billy and made me hide it from Mom. Again, I was not too worried as I was more concerned with the people they had writing these things—who the hell are they and do they sit in little rooms just thinking of things to write  or are they the people next door sitting at the kitchen table with evil gleaming eyes.  Trust me, Mom did not need to see that letter.  So I called Billy and he says it is probably scar tissue, but don’t be surprised if Dr Lynn does a biopsy.  Okay—I was good with that and started to worry how and when I would be able to fit it into my schedule as I was sure she would have to bring me back to inflict that pain.  

Off I go and after dealing with the scale and the blood pressure, I waited for the good doctor.  She did not disappoint.  After catching up, she shows me the images and tells me the results of the ultra sound and why the radiologist had concerns.   She then goes into how that person (I will not say the name of the radiologist as-- well, it is memorable and let’s just leave it at that) is pushing for an MRI and that she feels the only way to get a true picture is to do a biopsy.  I say whatever you want.  She jumps up, says she will be back in 5 seconds and leaves.  She is back in 4 and the words “crap--you are doing the biopsy now” slipped out just as Lynnette walks in laughing “Liza—wondered where you were.”  I am told don’t worry, it will not be bad and she was going to numb me.  As always, she was full of crap.  She brought me to tears it hurt so much.  I think I heard an evil laugh when I told her I hated her and she liked to inflict pain and that God would punish her someday.   I took great pleasure in yelling “Ouch” as she ended the biopsy.  Still, she won as it hurt for 2 days.  Poor Pia.   I was sent on my merry little way with an “I’ll call with the results—could be tomorrow, but more than likely Monday.”   I figured I had had a really bad morning so I first stopped at Whole Foods for their cranberry tuna and a hard roll—which I had not had in a while and then figured what the heck, I wondered what type of cupcakes were on the menu at Coastal.   And as Grandpa would say “Hot Dog! “as it was chocolate peanut butter day.  And off I went.  Not only did I get a cupcake, I got this icing shot—chocolate peanut butter—which made it less than a block.  Heck, I deserved it!

It hit me on the way back to work it might not turn out the way we all expected it to.  The decision to not tell Mom was easy and I will blame that on Billy.  A handful of people knew and that was fine.  My thinking was why worry people when more than likely it would be fine.  Then that little voice said “maybe, maybe not.” Damn little voice.  So Friday came and Friday went, with no call.  I made it through the weekend, but I will admit to getting more and more nervous.   By 3:00 this afternoon I had had enough.  I called and luckily Lynnette answered the phone.  I asked if the results were in and yes they had just been sent—she pulls them up and says “bunch of medical stuff here—but here is what you need to hear—biopsy was negative for cancer.”  Whew.  Funny I did not realize how much I was worrying.  I made it one more hour at work and then figured it was time to come clean with Mom.  She handled it well and I am glad I did not tell her. However, this does not bode well for the future.  Maybe she will forget.  Yeah, I know…. Keep dreaming.  

 

 

 

           

It is what it is....

It is what it is…. me-- pretty much everyday

Way back in August, I updated about the latest in my cancer—the gift that keeps giving saga.  Here is the latest….

The lymphedema is something which will always be a part of me—just lovely.  However, it seems to be treatable (at this time—why jinx myself and say curable) and I responded very quickly to the original wrapping.  Yay me (about damn time I got something right)!  Of course—it is me—so the kicker came in the form of the compression sleeve and glove which are needed  to combat this issue.  Mine needed to be custom made and they came from Germany AND they are $400.00.  And before anyone asks, working on the insurance …time will tell.  And then I asked how long they lasted—Robert got up—made his way towards the door—said he would be right back and then said “6-7 months” as he was closing the door.  I could only shake my head.  However, it is working and I am thankful.

I have also seen Dr K since the last update and well, it is what it is.  I asked about the bone/joint issues and leg cramps and there is nothing he can do.  We talked pros and cons of the tamoxifen and the tamoxifen prevailed and I will just go on.  He kept saying how sorry he was, but he was not willing to change anything.  He then told me he was worried about the Advil etc I admitted to taking.  I had to promise not to over indulge.  He asked about sleeping and I could not lie to him… he always knows when I fudge it… so I said I was up most nights for a few hours.  Again he apologized—but I told him it was okay as I got things done.  He laughed.  I did think of telling him Candy Crush only had 5 lives and that was not good for someone who was up for few hours, but I had this feeling I would have received a really clueless look and I did not want to have to explain it to him.

Sometimes, I forget that I have had cancer.  Silly as it seems, there are times in which it is totally out of my mind.  Then it hits me.  I still have not had a really good cry, but I came close to it the other week.  There are these Pink Fire Trucks which support Breast Cancer and they had been in Jacksonville and were on their way to Wilmington.  One of them—Claudia-- has my name on it.  Last year, 2 of my Sunday School kids—Carley and Madison, signed my name on her—and yes, I shed a few tears.  Anyway, long story short—I was on my way to therapy and Heather calls to tell me they are behind me (apparently she passed me). They caught up with me a little ways down and I just watched them as the Pender County Fire Truck led the way.  I passed them and as I was almost to New Hanover County, I passed one of their fire trucks—waiting to take over.  For some reason I just started to cry.  I thought I had it under control until I saw the switch off in the rearview mirror—Pender slides over and New Hanover took over.  All I could think was my name was on Claudia and how awesome the pink engines were and how many people were involved and shit, I was a cancer survivor—who would have thought?!

One thing I have learned while going through this is the only thing that matters is you make it through  and if you look like crap or say lose your hair—who the hell cares.  There were times when I cared and there were times when I did not.  Losing my hair was not traumatic to me and I will say, I regret not getting professional pictures taken when I was bald.  I am not saying I want to go back… I am just saying it would have been nice-- strange I know, but we are talking me.  Anyway, a year ago today, September 29, 2012, I took my wig off for the last time.  Not sure which one it was, but I was at work and I told Gaye I wanted it off and she said go for it. So I did.  And in honor of this anniversary—here are the stages of what my hair went through.   And before anyone mentions it—I did not have curls before all of this-- and yes, I have answered that question a million and one times!

The day of the shearing....
The before picture....

In the process....

 

The end result….

No words on this one.. well.. wait.. of course Aunt Sue had to take a picture...

Polly modeling Scarlett…

Kaleb modeling Lizzie...

Right after the wigs came off…..

Last week....

I should have known.....

A few months ago, I was debating what to do with this blog.  I wanted to end it as I felt the time had come and it had served its purpose-- besides, I was blank when it came to the witty writing my readers had come to expect (humor me here people).  One night as I was lying in bed, I even wrote some of it (in my mind—enough said).  But alas… when I woke up the next morning, my mind was blank and I never did recover those words.  Must have been a sign as apparently, I have another one to share and I would like to point out yet again, I have not said now what or no, that will never happen. 

About 3 weeks ago, I woke up with my right hand/arm tingling and my middle finger was stuck in the outward position.  Normally I would have found this amusing, however, it was a Wednesday and since it is the summer that means Summer Reading which means kids.  The first group is the K-5 kids and the second is the Teens.  I would love to say I was more worried about the teens, but those little buggars in the younger group are smart and I had visions… and they were not pretty.  I can handle my Teen group, but my K-5 group scares me.    Back to the tingling—it was annoying as hell and my finger was still stuck.  So I jumped in the shower hoping and praying it would stop and I could go on with my day.  As I was drying my hair—yes, I am at the I can use a hair dryer stage (although it takes about 30 seconds—still—it is an accomplishment considering where I was a year ago)—anyway, I realized my right arm was swollen.  From my fingers up to my shoulder looked a little big to me—just when I was thinking I had side stepped the lymphedema issue.  I will let everyone use their own imagination on the thoughts I let slip out and it was not “oh crap”.

Lymphedema is fluid retention and swelling based upon the compromise of the lymphatic system.  And because I had about 20 lymph nodes taken out during surgery way back on January 6, 2012 (I can remember that day and I can’t remember yesterday), it seems my system is compromised.  Lovely, just lovely.  So I do the only thing I know what to do—I call Lynnette, Dr Lynn’s nurse.  I leave a message; she calls me back and says “Dr Lynn said oh crap when I told her.”   Me—as I am laughing: “There is no way on this earth that is what she said.”  Lynnette—laughing as well: “hmmmmm….”  Me: “she said oh shit – didn’t she?”  Lynnette: “Yup—along with why now.  You need to come in.”   2 weeks later, I was sitting in a familiar room while she stared at my arm.  (I did see Dr Nicholas a week before and I told him I was going to see Dr Lynn as he was going to do something and he said something like better her than me and laughed and said you have driven her nuts since day one, might as well continue.  I love my doctors!)

I left the office with instructions to call Robert, some sort of lymphedema therapy specialist—had no idea there was one—and the thought going through my mind of having to wear one of those sleeves on my arm—which I now know are called compressions sleeves—just another thing to add to my I could have gone my entire life without knowing this list.   I was able to push the appointment off 2 weeks until Summer Reading ended as I had a feeling it was not going to end well.  My arm still tingled at times and you know when you stare at something long enough, it does what you want it to do.  So in my mind, my arm was not swollen anymore.  Yeah, right.  Robert explained the therapy procedures while measuring my fingers, and all up and down my arm and then my shoulder. And I actually was able to listen and to comprehend.  Of course it was before 1pm, so I was good.  However, as he continued, I realized this therapy was really going to suck and I might have to get some Press N Seal again… oh the joy!  Because everyone does things their own way, the first part of the therapy can be as short as 2 weeks or as long as 10 weeks (anyone want to make any bets here?).  The first part is comprised of compression, movement and I think I heard the word massage.  Compression is the biggest part and ---here it comes—my arm needs to be wrapped basically 24/7.  And I am not talking a regular wrap—I am talking each finger is wrapped, the hand, the arm, the shoulder—everything is wrapped.  This is to get the fluid moving.  He said my ability to type should be okay and my writing might get messier—I did not say a word.  I think this is when I just shook my head and said what about showers—the memory of that damn Press N Seal still haunting me.  He told me I could not get it wet and gave me a few suggestions.  He did tell me I could get the early appointment and take the wrap off and take a shower as they would rewrap when I got there.  Of course the only ones I could work out the first week are in the afternoon.  Figures.

I start this next step a week from Monday.  I have to be there the first week everyday Monday- Friday and then I have to keep the silly thing on the entire weekend. Looks like every day the following week, but he wants to see how the week goes.  So much for my planning.  On the positive side… I only have to drive to Gordon Road which is on the outskirts of Wilmington and takes maybe 35 minutes—not all the way down towards the hospital.  And there is a new Dunkin Donuts in Hampstead.  And I am on this side of the ground and it could be a lot worse.  A lot worse. 

Give thanks in all circumstances!

 

 

 

 

 

With a grateful heart

Today I had the privilege to be one of the speakers for our annual Laity Sunday at church.  I will say I was set up.  When MJ asked me to talk, I held off thinking no way.  Stupid me, I then asked what was the topic.  When she smiled and said gratitude, I knew I was hosed.  I tried to avoid the inevitable by telling her I had to pray about it, but she knew and I knew I had to say yes.  (a big shout out to Lisa Brown who came up with the theme--- yes, I know and yes, someday I will get back at you—when you least expect it).

             Strangely enough, I struggled over what to say.  I was not sure which road to take and I have about 7 unfinished versions to back me up.  Pastor Bill told me to use my blogs—then he got this funny look and said, well, maybe some of the things in the blog.  I took pride in knowing he was probably worrying about what was going to come out of my mouth.  He did not have to as if I said anything I should not have, Mom would have killed me. 

Below is what I said—there were a few minor additions and I will have to say I was pretty darn proud of myself as I did not do that Jersey fast talk and I only lost my place I think 3 times.  It was a wonderful service as not only was it Laity Sunday, it was Quilt Sunday—the quilters—have now made 1032 quilts for Barium Springs Home for Children and the Serenity Garden and Columbarium was dedicated. 

So here you go!

I was 6 weeks old when I was adopted.  All I know is my biological mother was 16, from North Carolina and was sent to New Jersey to have me. I have never had the need to seek her out, but if I did, it would be to say thank you for loving me so much and to let her know I was okay and have had a wonderful life.   God placed me exactly where I was supposed to be.  When I was almost 2, we “got” Billy and the family was complete.  Up until I was 10 and Billy was 8, we had your typical childhood.  It was then Dad was diagnosed with cancer and the world as we knew it changed.  He died 2 years later and while he was gone, I still had a wonderful life.  I was surrounded by people who loved me—including my church family who were so important during Dads illness and death and I was raised with God in my life. Life was different without Dad, but it was good and Mom made it so.    3 years later, my best friend’s mother Sue  died of cancer and I remember telling Mom I was so thankful she was the one still alive as even though I missed Dad, I needed my mom.    Words I have said a million times over throughout the course of my life. I remember thanking God in my prayers for giving me my family as I saw being blood related was not always what it was all cracked up to be. 

Then my cousin Mark got cancer.  He was 2 years older than me and was 39 when he died.  He suffered.  His bible verse was James 1: 2-4—Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of you faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  He lived this to the moment he died.   He struggled, yet was at peace.  I never quite understood how he did it and then I got cancer and it all fell into place.

            I found the lump late on Monday, December 5, 2011.  I knew what it was the moment I found it and I cried.  I did and said nothing.  I checked again Tuesday night and that dang thing was still there so I cried a bit more and called Dr Jones the next morning and was in her office within 2 hours.  All the time I was like really?  Seriously?  I had just had a mammogram in July which supposedly was good—so what the heck? I had a moment of denial—but deep down I still knew.  And on December 29, I sat down with Dr Alison Lynn and she says “I do not need a biopsy to know it is cancer.”   3 things popped into my head—first—oh crap I have cancer second—I don’t have a bucket list and third—I am attached to my hair. She told me she thought it was Stage One and it looked like it had not spread so the treatment would just be radiation.  She had just confirmed what I had known for weeks and I was filled with this amazing calmness and peace—a peace that only God can give and I knew with certainty, I was going to be fine. 

      On January 6, I had a lumpectomy and I knew the moment Dr Lynn walked into recovery my life was just about to get a bit more exciting and my hair was history.  Turns out it was in the lymph nodes and it also turned out that I was Stage 3 and since I had lymph node involvement, I was looking at about 6 rounds of chemo followed by radiation.  Again I was at peace and again I knew without a doubt I was going to be fine.  But that bump in the road had just become a really large pothole. Still, there was much to be thankful for.  Stage 3 was better than Stage 4 and 4 out of 20 nodes was a whole lot better than 15 out of 20 and I had plenty of sick leave.

 In your heart you plan your life, but the Lord decides where your steps take you.   Proverbs 16:9

            I believe God is always with you and while everyone faces obstacles, trials or whatever you might call them, he also gives you the tools—or as I thought of them—nourishment-- to get through those times.  You just have to open your heart and mind and take it for what it is.   My nourishment came in many forms.  From people I never expected to be there to those who went above and beyond.  It came from my wacky sense of humor—I named everything—Portia was my port, -- then she ruptured and Pedro the pic line took over.  My wigs were Scarlett and Lizzie – you get the idea.   I also have this ability to remove myself from the moment at hand by focusing on something else—it is like I am really not there.  Strange, I know, but it has come in handy.   And more importantly, I realized – quickly I might add-- the more I let God take over, the more I let my faith grow, the better I was.  I am not sure when I first noticed the sign—it was in December, and on the right in Ogden.  Your typical church sign.  It said Be still and know I am God.  That sign stayed up until March—at which time it changed to Walk by faith….not by sight.  It changed a few more times, always speaking to me.  In August, when it changed to Yard Sale Saturday, I knew I was through the worst.

            For me, the blessings I received from my cancer far outweighed the negatives. While I never did things the easy way, everything was always, in my mind, doable.  I did 6 rounds of chemo and ended up in the hospital 4 out of those 6 times.  It drove Dr Kotz nuts.  The first time I ended up on the 10^th floor, he told me it could be 5 days.  I rolled my eyes and said no way it will be no more than 3 and he said my job is to keep you safe—something he repeated time and time again.  He also said he was going for the cure and he did not want to decrease the chemo.  Well, he did what he said; he got the cure and kept me safe, even when I threw him all those curve balls.  And I never spent more than 3 days either.  After chemo I was delighted to be cremated for 6 ½ weeks. Every day, Monday – Friday 4:30 pm standing appointment.   Someone commented on my blog that her father said radiation was a piece of cake—if that someone is sitting in this room—he lied.    I was burned from the inside out and to me it was worse than chemo.  At least with chemo I was drugged most of the time.  Still, it could have been worse. Many times I assumed the radiation position and tossed up a thank you prayer to God for being able to treat me, although it would have been better if it did not hurt as much.   

      Back to my blessings— topping the list is the people—family, friends, church family, medical staff, strangers, patrons—you name them and they were there.  I received cards, gifts and advice from friends and strangers. It was a bit overwhelming at times—but, as I had been advised to do, I embraced it.  Very, very humbling, yet I am so very thankful to be surrounded by such caring people.   It would take too long to point out everyone, but I would like to publicly say thank you to Mom as there is no way on earth I could be the caregiver she was.   Speaking of Mom—remember I found the lump the night of December 5?  That was also the night PW women met—and that was also the night when they went around the room asking for prayers and she gave a praise—she was thankful for her children’s health.  She has promised to never ever say that again.   A little late for me, but hopefully Bill will be spared.  Speaking of my brother, I would like to publically thank him as well.  As surgeon he came in quite handy at times—even if he did say—oh don’t worry, it is nothing.

       There were some people I thought would step up and they did not.  It took me a little by surprise until I realized they just did not know what to say or do.  And I got it and understood completely.  And then there were people who popped in when I never expected—and they will always be a part of my life.  And lastly, there are those who came in, helped me and drifted away— everyone had a purpose and I am so thankful for each and everyone. 

            I am thankful for all cancer has given me and honestly, I would not trade it for anything in the world.  To me the biggest negative was it affected so many people who love me and I hated that.  I hated I was a reminder to those who had walked this road before me and I hated Mom had to be a caregiver yet again. 

            I learned so much about myself and the world around me.  I learned that if I left my day planner at home, my world did not come to an end.  I learned that if I did not get to it, life still went on.  I learned to just let it go.  I learned there are much worse things than chemo, and losing my hair did not define me.  I found out chemo brain does exist and there are side effects to everything.  I learned by being positive, you could change an outlook.  I learned I was loved, cared for and special.  I learned kids get it sometimes better than adults.   I learned a card could make a day, Renee Beckers’s chicken soup cured all and wigs can be misplaced.  I learned by saying now what and no, that will never happen, was a sure sign it would happen.  I learned things I could have gone my entire life not knowing. I also learned my friends are worth their weight in gold and I hope and pray that if ever the circumstances are reversed, I can pay it back 10 fold. 

     Earlier I said I had a blog—I did the blog for 2 reasons—first to keep people up to date and second, it was a release for me.  During the past few weeks, I have read it from the beginning to my latest post.   As I was reading and remembering, it felt kind of like a dream—as if it had never happened.  But it did and I made it through.  I do wonder if I would have approached this the same way if I knew it was terminal.  I sure hope so. 

    If you are familiar with Facebook, then you know what a cover picture is. For those of you who are not familiar—when you log onto a person’s profile—there is a banner of sorts and that is the cover picture.  I have changed it once in a while, but I always go back to what is on there today.   It says there is always, always, always something to be thankful for. 

     I am so thankful to be a child of God.