I'm feeling a little bit bad for myself today. I'm feeling even more bad for the people in my life that are being affected by this whole cancer thing and never ever should have to deal with it.
Danny and I were supposed to go up to Michigan in late July with his family for a week and enjoy swimming and tanning and laughing and such at their lake house. Literally, the house is probably 8 steps from the water. And I simply adore his family. I would choose to hang out with his mom and dad in any sort of situation and look so forward to time together. This would have been a week where time stood still and we would amuse ourselves with games and stories and silliness and smiles. I know, it probably wouldn't have been that perfect, but still. Now, instead of being up in Michigan, I'll be in the middle of chemotherapy. Not only does this ruin summer vacation for me, but now my husband and his family have cancelled too so that they can stay with me while I'm sleeping and throwing up and acting like an ugly miserable person. Not a fair trade-off.
So Danny comes up with this great idea for us to take just a couple of days away before I start chemo so that we can have some sort of summer vacation while I'm still up for it. Plus, it will be awesome to have something to look forward to. So we find some dates that might work and we decide on Gatlinburg. We both have only been there once briefly, so we thought it would be awesome to see all of the touristy stuff and then just chill in the hot tub at night. I get this list together of all of these places I've been wanting to visit for a while now and then Danny reminds me that I probably won't be able to climb up a rock wall or go through a ropes course. Remember babe, you're on crutches. I still don't see myself like that. I'm frustrated that I can't do what I should be able to do in Gatlinburg.
And then there is my brother's wedding. He is getting married to one of my favorite people in September. Again, in the middle of chemo. We already have our plane tickets and our hotel rooms and our hearts set on going. But what if it lands on days 7-10 after a treatment? That's time period where I am most vulnerable to get sick and definitely can't climb on a plane with a million other people. What if it's right after a treatment when I'm completely hit-by-a-truck worn out and it would be beyond my strength to travel across the country and dance all night? I'm hoping that my doctor is flexible and by that point in my chemo I'll be able to postpone a treatment if requested, but I just don't know. It breaks my heart to think of going to the wedding and have people taking care of me when we should all be totally focused on Jeff and Laura. I can't even imagine not being at the wedding at all.
Yea, cancer's really cramping my style. Tomorrow I'll remember that I really have it easy and I should be incredibly thankful and let it just roll off my back. But today, I'm pissed.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
The hardest thing you'll ever go through
Now that the shock of having cancer has kind of worn off and we've continued living life, I've had a lot of time to think about how this will impact us long term. Our doctors and others that have beaten cancer have told us that this will be the hardest thing we will ever face. It's made me begin to think about other times in my life that have been particularly difficult. I find myself comparing how miserable I was then to how miserable this could potentially be. I know, sounds like a blast. But I've realized some stuff about myself and I suspect, about a lot of people. Physical pain sucks, but it's the emotional stuff that comes to mind when I think of trials. Not that cancer doesn't have an incredibly real emotional aspect, but it's the physical pain I'm really not looking forward to. When I think of things that have been really tough for me to do, I think of things like being in the Navy for 4 years and not losing my mind. Breaking out of co-dependent relationships. Confronting people I love with truth that they won't love to hear.
I think it's almost easier to have cancer. Cancer makes our choice pretty one-sided. Either you do the hard thing, go through treatment, feel sick, and live or do nothing and die. Pretty much everyone wants to live, so they do what they don't want to do because they must. Emotional things should be that cut and dry, but they aren't. When things are hard emotionally, sometimes the right decision isn't easy to see. Sometimes the right decision is easy to see, but you don't want to see it. Sometimes it's easier to not make a decision and hope things will change and get better, even though in your heart of hearts you know they won't. Most of the time, not making a decision won't lead to your sure death, so there isn't any urgency. And most people will settle in a miserable existance, even if just for a little while, to avoid a potentially sad and/or volatile situation. But will you really live if you don't choose to do those hard things? Won't you "die" when you lose yourself when consumed by trying to appease someone else, like you would in a co-dependent relationship? Won't you constantly live with regret if you aren't brave enough to confront others with truth about yourself? Won't you become a shell of who you were meant to be if you continue to stay in a place or in a job or with a person that doesn't breath life into you? Be courageous! Take action! Stick with it! Give yourself time to heal. One day you'll look around and realize it was worth it. Do what I don't have the choice to do or not do.
I have made difficult decisions and followed them through. I have upset people and broken hearts (including my own) and survived seasons of depression. By choosing some of these hard things and healing after them, I've been given a better life, a fuller life, a life worth living. Cancer is something I didn't choose, but I know it's something I will choose to act against. I can do this. I pray that my cancer gives others the courage to take action when it's necessary, even when it seems too difficult.
For some reason, it's been hard to find the words to express what I'm feeling tonight. I hope that the message isn't messed up by my sentences.
I think it's almost easier to have cancer. Cancer makes our choice pretty one-sided. Either you do the hard thing, go through treatment, feel sick, and live or do nothing and die. Pretty much everyone wants to live, so they do what they don't want to do because they must. Emotional things should be that cut and dry, but they aren't. When things are hard emotionally, sometimes the right decision isn't easy to see. Sometimes the right decision is easy to see, but you don't want to see it. Sometimes it's easier to not make a decision and hope things will change and get better, even though in your heart of hearts you know they won't. Most of the time, not making a decision won't lead to your sure death, so there isn't any urgency. And most people will settle in a miserable existance, even if just for a little while, to avoid a potentially sad and/or volatile situation. But will you really live if you don't choose to do those hard things? Won't you "die" when you lose yourself when consumed by trying to appease someone else, like you would in a co-dependent relationship? Won't you constantly live with regret if you aren't brave enough to confront others with truth about yourself? Won't you become a shell of who you were meant to be if you continue to stay in a place or in a job or with a person that doesn't breath life into you? Be courageous! Take action! Stick with it! Give yourself time to heal. One day you'll look around and realize it was worth it. Do what I don't have the choice to do or not do.
I have made difficult decisions and followed them through. I have upset people and broken hearts (including my own) and survived seasons of depression. By choosing some of these hard things and healing after them, I've been given a better life, a fuller life, a life worth living. Cancer is something I didn't choose, but I know it's something I will choose to act against. I can do this. I pray that my cancer gives others the courage to take action when it's necessary, even when it seems too difficult.
For some reason, it's been hard to find the words to express what I'm feeling tonight. I hope that the message isn't messed up by my sentences.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Sweet words
Todau was a great day! I slept almost through the night (hallelujah!!), had lunch with a dear friend and her super cute baby girl, got my radiation treatment (easy peasy), and spent the rest of the day cleaning up, taking a nap, and watching shows. My leg is definitely feeling a little better every day. There was even about a half hour this morning when I actually forgot that I had a leg problem! Of course it pretty much sucked when I remembered I have cancer, but those 30 minutes were glorious. A glimpse of what life will be when all of this is over.
My wonderful, incredibly encouraging, and bursting with love mother-in-law is doing some sort of mysterious project for me and asked if I could send her some verses that I love. I have a ton, but I was gravitating more toward the healing/response to illness verses, I can't imagine why. This was the list I came up with:
Psalm 51:10-12
Create in me a pure heart, O God, and RENEW A STEADFAST SPIRIT WITHIN ME. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and GRANT ME A WILLING SPIRIT, TO SUSTAIN ME.
Psalm 30:11-12
You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
Jeremiah 31:34
I have loved you with and everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness. I WILL BUILD YOU UP AGAIN.
1 Peter 5:10
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you STRONG, FIRM, and STEADFAST.
1 Corinthians 7:17 (message)
And don't be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God's place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there. *this is one of my all-time favorites*
Just taking the time to look for these were a blessing to me. I was wondering if any of you had verses that might be encouraging that you cold send my way. Or for my beautiful and thoughtful friends that think the Bible's kind of silly, any words of wisdom or quotes that may bring me up a notch on a difficult day. One request, please omit Romans 8:28, it's a little pet peeve of ours. Thanks :)
My wonderful, incredibly encouraging, and bursting with love mother-in-law is doing some sort of mysterious project for me and asked if I could send her some verses that I love. I have a ton, but I was gravitating more toward the healing/response to illness verses, I can't imagine why. This was the list I came up with:
Psalm 51:10-12
Create in me a pure heart, O God, and RENEW A STEADFAST SPIRIT WITHIN ME. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and GRANT ME A WILLING SPIRIT, TO SUSTAIN ME.
Psalm 30:11-12
You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
Jeremiah 31:34
I have loved you with and everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness. I WILL BUILD YOU UP AGAIN.
1 Peter 5:10
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you STRONG, FIRM, and STEADFAST.
1 Corinthians 7:17 (message)
And don't be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God's place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there. *this is one of my all-time favorites*
Just taking the time to look for these were a blessing to me. I was wondering if any of you had verses that might be encouraging that you cold send my way. Or for my beautiful and thoughtful friends that think the Bible's kind of silly, any words of wisdom or quotes that may bring me up a notch on a difficult day. One request, please omit Romans 8:28, it's a little pet peeve of ours. Thanks :)
Thursday, April 26, 2012
My first radiation experience
Today I had my first serious radiation treatment. It did not go as smoothly as planned. Yesterday when I went in they asked me if I had had a pregnancy test lately. I had gotten one done before my port was put in, just a week ago. They said that would be fine and got all of the information to verify it. They called me this morning at 11 (keep in mind my appointment is at 1:15pm and it takes me 45 minutes to drive there) to let me know that the pregnancy test didn't count because it wasn't a blood test and that I can not get my treatment today without getting a new one done. They said I could pick up an order at the office for a "legit" pregnancy test. So I get there as fast as I can to pick up the order. The nurse tells me that I can get the test done anywhere but they likely won't get the test results back in time for my treatment today or tomorrow. What!? I'm mad because I had from last friday to this wednesday to take care of anything they needed me to take care of, but no one mentioned this pregnancy test to me until yesterday. I try to make one serious objection to the nurse before I burst into tears (I'm miserable under pressure). All I want is my leg to stop hurting. And now she's telling me that I have to wait 5 more days before we can start making it better. Some days, it's just too much for me to deal with gracefully. Thankfully the tears softened her heart a bit and she called around the hospital to get me a pregnancy test done and faxed back to her only 10 minutes later than my originally scheduled appointment. By the grace of God, I got my radiation today. It was really quick and easy. Of course they drew on me more so now my mid leg is mostly black permanent marker, but I don't care at all. I'm just so thankful to finally be on that long road to relief and recovery.
Btw, last night I was driving home from work and realized I remembered that really awkward story I wrote out yesterday COMPLETELY WRONG. Which of course makes it even more hilarious to me. What really happened was I told everyone that we should yell victoriously for the picture. I was thinking people would shout "yeas!" and "all rights!" and assume victorious stances. Well everyone else heard me say to yell "victoriously" so in the picture people are either forming the word "victoriously?" or looking confused. There you go, the record's been set straight. What really matters about that day was that my team won anyway. I found the video they made of the day and it's hilarious. At 6:52 you can see the story I told in action. Such a thrill.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7BbHkA4924
Also, here is the victorious team! I'm on the right with the fire in my eye.
Btw, last night I was driving home from work and realized I remembered that really awkward story I wrote out yesterday COMPLETELY WRONG. Which of course makes it even more hilarious to me. What really happened was I told everyone that we should yell victoriously for the picture. I was thinking people would shout "yeas!" and "all rights!" and assume victorious stances. Well everyone else heard me say to yell "victoriously" so in the picture people are either forming the word "victoriously?" or looking confused. There you go, the record's been set straight. What really matters about that day was that my team won anyway. I found the video they made of the day and it's hilarious. At 6:52 you can see the story I told in action. Such a thrill.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7BbHkA4924
Also, here is the victorious team! I'm on the right with the fire in my eye.
Ok, enough of that. It was just a really great day :) Anyways, talk to you tomorrow!
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
More and more robotic...
Today I had my first mini blast of radiation to prep for my "for real" blast tomorrow. It was super easy. I feel like my leg already feels a tiny bit better, although I'm sure it's all in my head. Whatever it is, I'll take it. To help me continue looking more and more like a robot, this was drawn on me:
Not the cutest picture ever taken, but this blog is supposed to be real, right? If you look closely you can see a little red mark under and to the right of my knee cap - that was where they dug through my leg layers and punched into the bone to get the biopsy that first detected lymphoma. Creepy. Surprisingly doesn't look that bad now.
Radiation is so crazy specific, which I'm thankful for. They have those little nasty tumors lined up perfectly so that the lasers can kill them without mercy. When I'm laying on the machine I want to make little shooting noises in my head and imagine the tumors crying out pathetically "We're sorry! Boooohoooooo!" Take that losers!
Last night I finally got some decent sleep! Danny set me up in the guest room - he even gave me the fluffly white down comforter that he loves to sleep under AND took the cats. Heaven. I slept from midnight to 6am solid! YIPPEE! I feel like a whole new woman! It probably had to do with the 3 Ibuprofens, 2 Lor-tabs, and 1 nausea pill that I took, but I don't even care. I woke up at 6 to take another Lor-tab and nausea pill, which gave me another couple hours. It was great. And our guest bed is AMAZINGLY comfortable! You should definitely come and try it out sometime. :)
In other awesome news, I got this incredible package yesterday which had like 100 little pieces of paper thrown inside. On each piece of paper were written the words "Kick cancer's ass!" It must have taken forever to do, but gosh did we love it! It's exciting to be part of some great impending accomplishment. And kicking cancer's ass would be a great accomplishment in my book. So that's the goal. Thank you so much to all of you guys out there who have rallied behind me and spurred me on to believe that facing this is not only possible, but a great adventure wherein I turn out to be the hero! Well, I guess God is pretty much the hero but you know what I mean. That reminds me of this time I was an intern at a Young Life camp and we had a full day of fun, Amazing Race style. Well my team won, no big deal, and at the end we had this awesome group picture on the top of a mountain. And I thought it would be awesome for everyone to say "victorious!!" instead of "cheese" for the shot. There was some miscommunication and the picture pretty much has everyone looking confused except for me - I'm standing on a bench, looking at the sky, pumping my fists in the air, sporting an incredibly triumphant smile. Well, maybe you had to be there, but it was funny. Best day ever. (Can anyone who was there attest to this being a funny memory?)
Well, since no one probably understood my last little aside, this seems like a pretty pathetic ending to the post for today. But there's always tomorrow. VICTORIOUS!!!
Radiation is so crazy specific, which I'm thankful for. They have those little nasty tumors lined up perfectly so that the lasers can kill them without mercy. When I'm laying on the machine I want to make little shooting noises in my head and imagine the tumors crying out pathetically "We're sorry! Boooohoooooo!" Take that losers!
Last night I finally got some decent sleep! Danny set me up in the guest room - he even gave me the fluffly white down comforter that he loves to sleep under AND took the cats. Heaven. I slept from midnight to 6am solid! YIPPEE! I feel like a whole new woman! It probably had to do with the 3 Ibuprofens, 2 Lor-tabs, and 1 nausea pill that I took, but I don't even care. I woke up at 6 to take another Lor-tab and nausea pill, which gave me another couple hours. It was great. And our guest bed is AMAZINGLY comfortable! You should definitely come and try it out sometime. :)
In other awesome news, I got this incredible package yesterday which had like 100 little pieces of paper thrown inside. On each piece of paper were written the words "Kick cancer's ass!" It must have taken forever to do, but gosh did we love it! It's exciting to be part of some great impending accomplishment. And kicking cancer's ass would be a great accomplishment in my book. So that's the goal. Thank you so much to all of you guys out there who have rallied behind me and spurred me on to believe that facing this is not only possible, but a great adventure wherein I turn out to be the hero! Well, I guess God is pretty much the hero but you know what I mean. That reminds me of this time I was an intern at a Young Life camp and we had a full day of fun, Amazing Race style. Well my team won, no big deal, and at the end we had this awesome group picture on the top of a mountain. And I thought it would be awesome for everyone to say "victorious!!" instead of "cheese" for the shot. There was some miscommunication and the picture pretty much has everyone looking confused except for me - I'm standing on a bench, looking at the sky, pumping my fists in the air, sporting an incredibly triumphant smile. Well, maybe you had to be there, but it was funny. Best day ever. (Can anyone who was there attest to this being a funny memory?)
Well, since no one probably understood my last little aside, this seems like a pretty pathetic ending to the post for today. But there's always tomorrow. VICTORIOUS!!!
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Gifts of beauty
I have been getting number of incredible gifts in the mail from friends and family lately - I'm such a lucky girl. It's like the best birthday ever! Beautiful scarfs and deeply enriching books and delicious food items and letters with all sorts of encouragement. But I think today I have gotten one of the most precious gifts I've received to date. There is a woman that works with me that I don't know very well. She's in another department and keeps to herself often. Today I got a large gift bag from her with a gorgeous lavender knitted something inside. This is what the note said:
"'He will shield you with His wings. He will shelter you with His feathers. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.' Psalm 91:4
I made this for you. As I knitted it, I have prayed for you. As God heard my prayers for you, he transformed the simple yarn I was knitting into a prayer shawl, interwoven with pleas for healing for the one whose needs are being lifted up to Him.The shawl is a symbol of a covering of prayers for individuals who have need of God's healing grace. This one was also held and prayed over by members of my church so that when you wrap your prayer shawl around you, you are surrounding yourself with God's love and the prayers of His people. Know that you are covered in prayer!"
It brought tears to my eyes. That a woman I barely know would take the time to make this, much less pray over it and give it to me. I am humbled and undeserving.
It is strange to be getting all of these gifts. I still don't feel like I have cancer. Yea, my leg hurts and it's difficult to sleep, but that's nothing new. It really doesn't feel like anything that warrents this incredible influx of beautiful things into my home. But I know that will change. I know at some point I will undeniably feel like I have cancer so I just have to be thankful for my health today and thankful for all of you that have sent things, knowing that I will need that love and encouragement to sustain me over the next year.
Since we're talking about love and encouragement, I'm going to bore you for a second and brag about my husband. Because he's amazing. This year has been hard for me - I moved to a new place to be with him and left my church and friends behind. I had to find a job, which proved to be more difficult than I ever thought it would and then learn how to perform well in that job, which was also a challenge. Danny changed his whole future plans over the past year and began down a new and exciting adventure. We both had never married before and just learning to be with someone all of the time and have your lives so closely knit together is hard to do. And then I got cancer, haha. But all in all, I am so lucky. Last night I came home from work around 11:30pm. He met me at my car when I pulled up to help carry in all my stuff so I could use my crutches. Then he started a bath for me and made us tea. I got to soak in the bath and he sat in the bathroom with me so we could talk about our days together. Then we headed to bed, but about 10 minutes after laying there I realized I wouldn't be able to sleep well because of my leg. He got up, made up the couch for me, turned on the heater, and moved my medicine/food/water to the table. And the crazy part is, last night wasn't special. He does things like this all of the time. Simply because he loves me. Also because I'm a crippled cancer patient, but more because he loves me. I'm so lucky to have ended up with him, lucky to be able to see how wonderful he is, lucky to come home to him every night. I know, gag me with a spoon. I just want so much to continue to look at all of the many many bright spots in my life while enduring cancer. Cancer is not going to steal my joy. There are just too many wonderful things that surround me on a daily basis. Like my husband. And my new prayer shawl. And a million others.
"'He will shield you with His wings. He will shelter you with His feathers. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.' Psalm 91:4
I made this for you. As I knitted it, I have prayed for you. As God heard my prayers for you, he transformed the simple yarn I was knitting into a prayer shawl, interwoven with pleas for healing for the one whose needs are being lifted up to Him.The shawl is a symbol of a covering of prayers for individuals who have need of God's healing grace. This one was also held and prayed over by members of my church so that when you wrap your prayer shawl around you, you are surrounding yourself with God's love and the prayers of His people. Know that you are covered in prayer!"
It brought tears to my eyes. That a woman I barely know would take the time to make this, much less pray over it and give it to me. I am humbled and undeserving.
It is strange to be getting all of these gifts. I still don't feel like I have cancer. Yea, my leg hurts and it's difficult to sleep, but that's nothing new. It really doesn't feel like anything that warrents this incredible influx of beautiful things into my home. But I know that will change. I know at some point I will undeniably feel like I have cancer so I just have to be thankful for my health today and thankful for all of you that have sent things, knowing that I will need that love and encouragement to sustain me over the next year.
Since we're talking about love and encouragement, I'm going to bore you for a second and brag about my husband. Because he's amazing. This year has been hard for me - I moved to a new place to be with him and left my church and friends behind. I had to find a job, which proved to be more difficult than I ever thought it would and then learn how to perform well in that job, which was also a challenge. Danny changed his whole future plans over the past year and began down a new and exciting adventure. We both had never married before and just learning to be with someone all of the time and have your lives so closely knit together is hard to do. And then I got cancer, haha. But all in all, I am so lucky. Last night I came home from work around 11:30pm. He met me at my car when I pulled up to help carry in all my stuff so I could use my crutches. Then he started a bath for me and made us tea. I got to soak in the bath and he sat in the bathroom with me so we could talk about our days together. Then we headed to bed, but about 10 minutes after laying there I realized I wouldn't be able to sleep well because of my leg. He got up, made up the couch for me, turned on the heater, and moved my medicine/food/water to the table. And the crazy part is, last night wasn't special. He does things like this all of the time. Simply because he loves me. Also because I'm a crippled cancer patient, but more because he loves me. I'm so lucky to have ended up with him, lucky to be able to see how wonderful he is, lucky to come home to him every night. I know, gag me with a spoon. I just want so much to continue to look at all of the many many bright spots in my life while enduring cancer. Cancer is not going to steal my joy. There are just too many wonderful things that surround me on a daily basis. Like my husband. And my new prayer shawl. And a million others.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Cancer is NOT my identity
I think one of my biggest struggles since I've known about having cancer is worrying that it will become who I am to people. I really like appearing strong, independent, and in control - actually, I think most people do. I hate the idea of becoming this victim, someone who can't take care of herself, someone that needs to rely on others to do simple tasks, someone who has cancer. I have already had to surrender my "manager" title at work because I can't carry things or be particularly helpful while on crutches. So I sit in the back answering phones, which I am incredibly thankful for, but I'm frustrated that I can't do more. That my body is limiting me, even though I have the knowledge and aptitude and desire to get out there and "really" contribute.
I poke fun at my husband for being the crutch nazi, but he really doesn't have a choice. Even though I know I'm not supposed to put any weight on my leg and I'll likely pay for it later, I try to get by without them, especially at home. I don't want to have to ask him to get me water or do my laundry. I want to do it myself. I'm ridiculously stubborn. My husband should get a large trophy for simply remaining in my presence for so many hours a day.
When I first found out, my brother and soon to be sister in law (I love you Jeffy and Laura!!!) sent me a ton of helpful and sensitive books on cancer, chock full of useful information. When I opened the first one, I threw it on the floor in a rage. I don't want books on cancer! I want books on making stuffed animals and pretty paint colors and how to be a leader and Downton Abbey and really anything other than cancer. People with cancer read books about cancer and I wasn't ready to be one of those people. Heck, I'm still not ready. It's like buying books for school - you would never in a million years own a copy of the Organic Chemistry textbook if you didn't have to take the class to graduate. I just don't want to identify with cancer so closely, so intimately. Getting the port in has been sucky. I now have something implanted under my skin (Danny calls me his little Cylon) that undeniably screams CANCER. Losing my hair will be another big tip-off. Although it may help those out who currently see me on crutches and unabashedly ask "Did you twist your ankle honey?" No sir, I have cancer in my leg. I bet now you feel dumb.
Anyway, the point of the story is, I don't want cancer to become my identity. I don't want people to look at me and think "poor girl with cancer". And then I stumbled upon a call to worship I wrote for my church near the end of last year and it somehow, perfectly, answered all of my doubts. Here it is:
"I believe God is my identity.
I was fat when I was young. Through 4th, 5th, and 6th grade, I was the big nerdy girl who always sat in the corner alone. Even when I got older, joined some sports, lost the baby weight, and made friends, I often still saw myself as this kind of pathetic, majorly awkward outsider. It kept me bound up in the lie that I would never be accepted and convinced me that I had to be fake to get others to like me.
I grew older and found other things to identify with. As soon as I could charm a guy into dating me, I did, and I could finally call myself a girlfriend. Being a girlfriend meant that I was valued, I was sexy, and I mattered to someone. It made me happy and confident; it also made me clingy and fearful all of the time. What if he broke up with me? What if he found out what I was really like? If I wasn’t a girlfriend, who was I?
I didn’t always identify with negative images. I went to Vanderbilt University and found out that being smart was actually a good thing. I jumped at the chance to start telling people I was now an intellect. This label told others that I had something to contribute and I finally felt like I belonged. But pride crept in and I became a bully trying to prove to others that I was right and they were wrong.
After Vanderbilt, I joined the Navy and the identity was easy to define. I was an American, an Officer, a true patriot. I knew that if nothing else, I was serving my country; I was doing my duty. I was strong and proud. I was doing something that so many others respected. But I was lonely, exhausted, and not myself.
Standing here today I can tell you that I am no longer obese or view myself as pathetic. All of those boyfriends in high school and college were losers. I no longer attend Vanderbilt and very few people know or care about my IQ. And I don’t get to wear a Navy uniform anymore. In fact, all of those things that were once my identity have passed away. All of those things that made me feel worthy, purposeful, and accepted no longer apply. But one has remained - Christ.
Ephesians 1:11 says It’s in Christ we find out who we are and what we are living for. Galatians 3:27 that all of us who are baptized into Christ have clothed ourselves with Christ. 2 Corinthians 5:15 says He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.
I am a woman, a daughter, a sister, and a wife. I am a veteran, a Yankie, and a college graduate. I have been both the victim and the criminal. I have two tattoos and I’m 28 years old. I am unemployed, incredibly organized, and come from a split family. I’m a member of Big Spring Church of Christ.
But these things DO NOT define me.
I belong to Christ. I am Abraham’s seed. I am an heir to the kingdom. I am light in this dark world. I am free. I can approach the throne of the Most High with confidence. I have been chosen. I am a disciple of Christ. This is my identity. And THROUGH Christ we can be all things to all people."
I could write another section in there now. I would be about that time in my life when I got cancer and I felt sick and my hair fell out. And everything about my appearance would confirm that I was a victim of a horrible disease. When all of the people I loved the most would think of me under the umbrella of cancer. But this will NOT define me and it will NOT have the last word. My God is bigger than cancer and He is the only thing I will choose to identify with. I pray you will help me seek out a healthy balance between dealing with cancer in a real way and finding peace in my Lord, no matter what the cancer does.
I poke fun at my husband for being the crutch nazi, but he really doesn't have a choice. Even though I know I'm not supposed to put any weight on my leg and I'll likely pay for it later, I try to get by without them, especially at home. I don't want to have to ask him to get me water or do my laundry. I want to do it myself. I'm ridiculously stubborn. My husband should get a large trophy for simply remaining in my presence for so many hours a day.
When I first found out, my brother and soon to be sister in law (I love you Jeffy and Laura!!!) sent me a ton of helpful and sensitive books on cancer, chock full of useful information. When I opened the first one, I threw it on the floor in a rage. I don't want books on cancer! I want books on making stuffed animals and pretty paint colors and how to be a leader and Downton Abbey and really anything other than cancer. People with cancer read books about cancer and I wasn't ready to be one of those people. Heck, I'm still not ready. It's like buying books for school - you would never in a million years own a copy of the Organic Chemistry textbook if you didn't have to take the class to graduate. I just don't want to identify with cancer so closely, so intimately. Getting the port in has been sucky. I now have something implanted under my skin (Danny calls me his little Cylon) that undeniably screams CANCER. Losing my hair will be another big tip-off. Although it may help those out who currently see me on crutches and unabashedly ask "Did you twist your ankle honey?" No sir, I have cancer in my leg. I bet now you feel dumb.
Anyway, the point of the story is, I don't want cancer to become my identity. I don't want people to look at me and think "poor girl with cancer". And then I stumbled upon a call to worship I wrote for my church near the end of last year and it somehow, perfectly, answered all of my doubts. Here it is:
"I believe God is my identity.
I was fat when I was young. Through 4th, 5th, and 6th grade, I was the big nerdy girl who always sat in the corner alone. Even when I got older, joined some sports, lost the baby weight, and made friends, I often still saw myself as this kind of pathetic, majorly awkward outsider. It kept me bound up in the lie that I would never be accepted and convinced me that I had to be fake to get others to like me.
I grew older and found other things to identify with. As soon as I could charm a guy into dating me, I did, and I could finally call myself a girlfriend. Being a girlfriend meant that I was valued, I was sexy, and I mattered to someone. It made me happy and confident; it also made me clingy and fearful all of the time. What if he broke up with me? What if he found out what I was really like? If I wasn’t a girlfriend, who was I?
I didn’t always identify with negative images. I went to Vanderbilt University and found out that being smart was actually a good thing. I jumped at the chance to start telling people I was now an intellect. This label told others that I had something to contribute and I finally felt like I belonged. But pride crept in and I became a bully trying to prove to others that I was right and they were wrong.
After Vanderbilt, I joined the Navy and the identity was easy to define. I was an American, an Officer, a true patriot. I knew that if nothing else, I was serving my country; I was doing my duty. I was strong and proud. I was doing something that so many others respected. But I was lonely, exhausted, and not myself.
Standing here today I can tell you that I am no longer obese or view myself as pathetic. All of those boyfriends in high school and college were losers. I no longer attend Vanderbilt and very few people know or care about my IQ. And I don’t get to wear a Navy uniform anymore. In fact, all of those things that were once my identity have passed away. All of those things that made me feel worthy, purposeful, and accepted no longer apply. But one has remained - Christ.
Ephesians 1:11 says It’s in Christ we find out who we are and what we are living for. Galatians 3:27 that all of us who are baptized into Christ have clothed ourselves with Christ. 2 Corinthians 5:15 says He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.
I am a woman, a daughter, a sister, and a wife. I am a veteran, a Yankie, and a college graduate. I have been both the victim and the criminal. I have two tattoos and I’m 28 years old. I am unemployed, incredibly organized, and come from a split family. I’m a member of Big Spring Church of Christ.
But these things DO NOT define me.
I belong to Christ. I am Abraham’s seed. I am an heir to the kingdom. I am light in this dark world. I am free. I can approach the throne of the Most High with confidence. I have been chosen. I am a disciple of Christ. This is my identity. And THROUGH Christ we can be all things to all people."
I could write another section in there now. I would be about that time in my life when I got cancer and I felt sick and my hair fell out. And everything about my appearance would confirm that I was a victim of a horrible disease. When all of the people I loved the most would think of me under the umbrella of cancer. But this will NOT define me and it will NOT have the last word. My God is bigger than cancer and He is the only thing I will choose to identify with. I pray you will help me seek out a healthy balance between dealing with cancer in a real way and finding peace in my Lord, no matter what the cancer does.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
My Ellen show request!
Today I have been a total loser. I've done almost absolutely nothing. Seriously. Slept on and off all night, got up with Danny at around 10, ate half of some pancakes that our incredible friends Jim and Scott dropped off for us (if you don't have friends that drop by on Saturday mornings with plates of pancakes, you NEED to get some), and went back to sleep on the couch until 3pm. I don't know what the heck's wrong with me. Oh right, I have cancer. The most effort I've exerted since that time was moving my desk like 3ft so that I could watch hulu easier from the couch, pulled myself out of the bathtub (even though i already took a shower this morning), and mixed and baked a cinnamon bread loaf so that I could eat it. Wow, my accomplishments are astounding. BUT I did put in time to write to Ellen (YAY!!!!) I'll be on hot stand-by for her phone call, which I'm sure will come in at any moment. What to wear, what to wear... Here is what I wrote to her. Tell me if you think it sounds pathetic enough:
Hi! Danny and I were married just one year ago on April 16th after a whirlwind 8 month romance. I'm 29 and he's 26. Since he is a full time student and I just started a new job after looking in our area for 4 months, money wasn't abundant when we started our life together. We were making ends meet by following a strict budget (which included a much anticipated $30/month for date night!) I was having knee pain a few months into my new job, but since I finally got health insurance we weren't very worried about it. After months of pain, many appointments, doctors, and tests, I was diagnosed with lymphoma. I have a large tumor in my tibia and femur. No one saw it coming. I can't do my job on crutches or while enduring the months of chemo ahead of me. My company is incredible and accomodating, but there is only so much they can do since I have only been there for 6 months. We are nervous about impending medical bills, a way to keep our house clean enough so I won't get more sick, and just simple things like groceries once I stop working as frequently. Our story is at http://teamyencich.blogspot.com/. It includes our list of why it's cool to have cancer and details how much it has affected our life in just a short period. I'm fun and cute and my husband is a stud! You should toally have us on. Thank you!
I also sent in this picture, which I think is my favorite of us:
Hi! Danny and I were married just one year ago on April 16th after a whirlwind 8 month romance. I'm 29 and he's 26. Since he is a full time student and I just started a new job after looking in our area for 4 months, money wasn't abundant when we started our life together. We were making ends meet by following a strict budget (which included a much anticipated $30/month for date night!) I was having knee pain a few months into my new job, but since I finally got health insurance we weren't very worried about it. After months of pain, many appointments, doctors, and tests, I was diagnosed with lymphoma. I have a large tumor in my tibia and femur. No one saw it coming. I can't do my job on crutches or while enduring the months of chemo ahead of me. My company is incredible and accomodating, but there is only so much they can do since I have only been there for 6 months. We are nervous about impending medical bills, a way to keep our house clean enough so I won't get more sick, and just simple things like groceries once I stop working as frequently. Our story is at http://teamyencich.blogspot.com/. It includes our list of why it's cool to have cancer and details how much it has affected our life in just a short period. I'm fun and cute and my husband is a stud! You should toally have us on. Thank you!
I also sent in this picture, which I think is my favorite of us:
It was taken right after we decided to start dating, way back in August of 2010. Of course, it was also only the third time we had ever laid eyes on each other, but some things are just easy. That choice was. If you look close, you can see my Canoo in between us named Sharkey - one of my favorite friends that stayed with me from Asheville.
Well, we'll see about Ellen. I actually have a busy week coming up - church tomorrow morning, and then work tomorrow night and every night after through Wednesday. SO thankful for work. Marriott is an incredible company to work for and my fellow associates are a joy to see every day. We really are like a family and I am so blessed to be there. The pancake men mentioned above - one of them works with me. I have been met with kindness and generousity and support at every turn since this whole cancer thing started. I think I can add that to my list of amazing reasons to get cancer. I've never felt so loved in my life.
Friday, April 20, 2012
A long night :(
One of the worst parts about having a tumor in your leg bone is that it's pretty painful when your walking on it and at night time. Thankfully I've mostly stopped walking on it (see Danny, I said mostly - my husband is the crutch nazi), but sure enough every 24 hours I hit night time again. Back before we knew it was a tumor in my leg causing the pain, there was about a 3 week period when I would get home from work around 1-2am (my leg would be killing me), I would attempt to go to sleep (because I was exhausted), but I couldn't (b/c my leg would be killing me), so I would get up, sit on the couch, watch Felicity episodes (as to not completely waste my time) from maybe 4am - 6 or 7 or 8am, fall asleep on the couch once the medicine kicked in and the ache subsided, get woken up by the kitties who wanted to play, get angry at kitties and cuss them under my breath, get back into bed with husband just before he has to get up and start his day, sleep a few hours and then get up for work. And if any of you out there know me, you know that when I don't get good sleep I get weepy. Fast. I was like a walking physical and emotional trainwreck for weeks upon weeks on end and it was miserable. Coming up on the third week we found out that I had a tumor in my leg and with it, more appropriate medicine. I have been managing it since then, but last night I had a little Felicity reprise (except I unfortunately finished all four seasons of that show and have moved on to re-watching The Office). I no longer can keep my leg pain in check with Ibuprofen. Which sucks. The lor-tab makes me loopy and weird and sporatically really hot. But I'll adjust, because I have to and I'm sick of not sleeping next to my husband (I'm equally sick of sleeping with/under the cats).
All of that to say that I was a little weepy today. Danny can tell when I'm having a bad morning because he says I put on my "muppet" face, which evidentally isn't very attractive. Even though we got this incredible new kitty litter palace for the cats called the CatGenie (seriously check this thing out - it's like a robot) from my mom and Danny put the whole thing together AND did the dishes (bc I'm a puddle of uselessness), I still was in a poopy mood going to my radiation appointment. Not like driving to the radiation oncology department on your not-so-local hospital is typically the bright spot in anyone's day. The team there was really nice and went through the general info required for radiation. My treatment will be 20 sessions long and each session will last about 15 minutes. They will be shooting 3600 somethings into my leg to try and shrink the tumor, which is actually a pretty low dosage I'm told compared to a lot of the other cancers and other body locations they treat. I shouldn't expect to experience any side effects really except for maybe a slight sunburn on my knee and stiffness in the joint. I'm jazzed actually. It would be SO great not to have this pain in my leg anymore. Lymphoma is supposed to respond very well to radiation, so I'm hoping to be more mobile again sometime soon! I have a follow-up appointment on Wednesday and then we will actually start the treatments on Thursday.
In other news, I've decided to try to get so popular on my cancer that Ellen will have to have me on her show. Not that we have cable and get to watch her show on a regular basis, but from what I've seen, I love. And she would totally go for this - cute, muppet-faced girl with an exceptionally witty disposition, newly married to a total hunk, has random leg bone cancer but makes it fun for everyone! Let's see what we can do people!
You guys are awesome. Sending extra special love to JULIE LAFLEUR, whose birth I am celebrating today. Maybe sometime I'll write about my not so adventurous adventures in the Navy, where I had the great fortune of meeting Julie. She made me life bearable and even sprinkled in some pockets of joy over that last year, which I will be forever indebted to her for. Everyone shout out a "huzzah!!" to honor Julie and the great impact she has had on so many lives.
All of that to say that I was a little weepy today. Danny can tell when I'm having a bad morning because he says I put on my "muppet" face, which evidentally isn't very attractive. Even though we got this incredible new kitty litter palace for the cats called the CatGenie (seriously check this thing out - it's like a robot) from my mom and Danny put the whole thing together AND did the dishes (bc I'm a puddle of uselessness), I still was in a poopy mood going to my radiation appointment. Not like driving to the radiation oncology department on your not-so-local hospital is typically the bright spot in anyone's day. The team there was really nice and went through the general info required for radiation. My treatment will be 20 sessions long and each session will last about 15 minutes. They will be shooting 3600 somethings into my leg to try and shrink the tumor, which is actually a pretty low dosage I'm told compared to a lot of the other cancers and other body locations they treat. I shouldn't expect to experience any side effects really except for maybe a slight sunburn on my knee and stiffness in the joint. I'm jazzed actually. It would be SO great not to have this pain in my leg anymore. Lymphoma is supposed to respond very well to radiation, so I'm hoping to be more mobile again sometime soon! I have a follow-up appointment on Wednesday and then we will actually start the treatments on Thursday.
In other news, I've decided to try to get so popular on my cancer that Ellen will have to have me on her show. Not that we have cable and get to watch her show on a regular basis, but from what I've seen, I love. And she would totally go for this - cute, muppet-faced girl with an exceptionally witty disposition, newly married to a total hunk, has random leg bone cancer but makes it fun for everyone! Let's see what we can do people!
You guys are awesome. Sending extra special love to JULIE LAFLEUR, whose birth I am celebrating today. Maybe sometime I'll write about my not so adventurous adventures in the Navy, where I had the great fortune of meeting Julie. She made me life bearable and even sprinkled in some pockets of joy over that last year, which I will be forever indebted to her for. Everyone shout out a "huzzah!!" to honor Julie and the great impact she has had on so many lives.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Good news!
Danny and I celebrated today with subs from Jimmy Johns because I don't have as much cancer as I maybe could have had! YAAAAY!! A lot of our questions were answered today and we are both just so thankful. The bone marrow biopsy they performed came back negative for lymphoma (yay!!) and the PETscan showed only positive for cancer in my initial tibia tumor and a smaller tumor in my lower femur (yay!!) The PETscan did light up a little bit in one spot in my neck and one spot in my back, but the radiologist believes those spots were just reactive and NOT indicative of cancer (yay!!). That makes my lyphoma stage 2 (yay!!!)
What does this mean? Well, it doesn't really change any of my treatment BUT it does mean I can get radiation for my leg tumors now instead of later and hopefully get some sweet sweet relief from the ever expanding internally bone crushing pain I now feel constantly. Yayy!! Our doctor is awesome and called from his cell phone in our appointment room to get me a radiation oncologist appointment tomorrow. So I will start that then, at 2pm. Our doc is estimating that it will take 15 sessions, 1 a day, 5 days a week, to kick those tumors in the groin. At the end of that I can still expect a nice, cleansing chemo "wash", but at least I can put it off for another 3 weeks.
Speaking of cancer, my mom and I have started making a list of why it's cool to have cancer. Read some of these and don't try to tell me you're not jealous!
1. Awesome excuse to have a kicky new hairstyle for the summer
2. Don't have to shave my legs all summer long - heck yeah I'll be rocking skirts!
3. I'm not allowed to sift or clean or go anywhere near the kitty litter (boo hoo)
4. Once I hit menopause mid summerish, I won't have to worry about PMS, cramping, or other nasties. EVER AGAIN.
5. I have the perfect excuse to sit around all afternoon in front of the tv and watch girlie movies
Obviously the list isn't exhaustive, but I'll continue to add to it as little unexpected fun gifts pop out of this otherwise horror movie type lifestyle. Thank you guys for reading and for keeping up and for loving us so well. Radiation tomorrow is an answer to prayer, prayers that you all have lifted up when we had nothing to offer God beyond our bewilderment and frustration. Thank you for standing in the gap for us. I pray that we can honor you and honor Him in how we walk this out.
What does this mean? Well, it doesn't really change any of my treatment BUT it does mean I can get radiation for my leg tumors now instead of later and hopefully get some sweet sweet relief from the ever expanding internally bone crushing pain I now feel constantly. Yayy!! Our doctor is awesome and called from his cell phone in our appointment room to get me a radiation oncologist appointment tomorrow. So I will start that then, at 2pm. Our doc is estimating that it will take 15 sessions, 1 a day, 5 days a week, to kick those tumors in the groin. At the end of that I can still expect a nice, cleansing chemo "wash", but at least I can put it off for another 3 weeks.
Speaking of cancer, my mom and I have started making a list of why it's cool to have cancer. Read some of these and don't try to tell me you're not jealous!
1. Awesome excuse to have a kicky new hairstyle for the summer
2. Don't have to shave my legs all summer long - heck yeah I'll be rocking skirts!
3. I'm not allowed to sift or clean or go anywhere near the kitty litter (boo hoo)
4. Once I hit menopause mid summerish, I won't have to worry about PMS, cramping, or other nasties. EVER AGAIN.
5. I have the perfect excuse to sit around all afternoon in front of the tv and watch girlie movies
Obviously the list isn't exhaustive, but I'll continue to add to it as little unexpected fun gifts pop out of this otherwise horror movie type lifestyle. Thank you guys for reading and for keeping up and for loving us so well. Radiation tomorrow is an answer to prayer, prayers that you all have lifted up when we had nothing to offer God beyond our bewilderment and frustration. Thank you for standing in the gap for us. I pray that we can honor you and honor Him in how we walk this out.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
The port
Ok, so Tuesday morning I got my port installed. We had to be there at 6am (because evidentally the port wasn't punishment enough). Thank goodness Danny has a lot of schoolwork and stuudying to do all of the time because he has to spend hours upon hours waiting for me in doctor's offices. Anyway, the procedure went well - it only took about a half hour and then another half hour for me to wake up from the anesthesia. I felt a little bit out of it, but not as bad as when they biopsied my leg. Then Danny and I had to drive down the street to another office so that they could x-ray my chest and make sure everything was in the right place. Of course, everything is made more difficult because I can't put weight on my leg and I feel sick from the anesthesia, so Danny is trying to manuever me in a wheelchair to the right spot while I hold my crutches and my vomit back. But in the end we got everything done (a huge thank you to the kind receptionist who took pity on me and gave me some sprite and a cool moist towel to put on my neck).
Once home, I slept. For ever. The medicine they gave me for pain is Hydrocodone or "Lor-tab" (that's the cool street name). I tried taking them in the past, but they made me feel more sick, so then they prescribed this other medicine for nausea to take before I take the pain meds. It's all very confusing. Danny says that he thinks I'm allergic to feeling better. Both of these meds make me drowsy, so I literally would sleep for 3 hours, go to the bathroom, get something little to eat, take the first med, wait 15 mins, take the second med, and repeat. Around 8pm I got up and took a little leg bath (can't get the port wet yet) and that was wonderful. BATHS ARE AMAZING AND SOLVE ALMOST ALL PROBLEMS. I've continued pretty much on my strict sleep schedule up until now. I switched over to Ibuprofen, my med of choice, so that I can work tomorrow and not feel stupid sleepy. I also have the big cancer appointment tomorrow at 9:15 to discuss what exactly I have, where it is, what stage it is, what the treatment will be, and when it will start. We are all holding our breath to see what he will say. I'm personally praying that he is completely bewildered and doesn't find anything and we can give up a shout of praise to God and go back to our real life. Sadly I don't think that's going to happen - not because He can't but because I think we've started down a path that I don't think will be cut short.
I hope all of this medical mumbo jumbo isn't too boring. I thought it would be interesting to look back at and see when I thought this little pain medicine made me sick - how cute. I'm going to try and upload a pic on here of the port. They covered it with a heart shaped gauze and you can see it bleeding through, so I have a bleeding heart haha. It doesn't hurt too bad, mostly like if you worked out your pecs really hard and the next day they are super sore. Anyway, stay well and I'll talk again soon!
Once home, I slept. For ever. The medicine they gave me for pain is Hydrocodone or "Lor-tab" (that's the cool street name). I tried taking them in the past, but they made me feel more sick, so then they prescribed this other medicine for nausea to take before I take the pain meds. It's all very confusing. Danny says that he thinks I'm allergic to feeling better. Both of these meds make me drowsy, so I literally would sleep for 3 hours, go to the bathroom, get something little to eat, take the first med, wait 15 mins, take the second med, and repeat. Around 8pm I got up and took a little leg bath (can't get the port wet yet) and that was wonderful. BATHS ARE AMAZING AND SOLVE ALMOST ALL PROBLEMS. I've continued pretty much on my strict sleep schedule up until now. I switched over to Ibuprofen, my med of choice, so that I can work tomorrow and not feel stupid sleepy. I also have the big cancer appointment tomorrow at 9:15 to discuss what exactly I have, where it is, what stage it is, what the treatment will be, and when it will start. We are all holding our breath to see what he will say. I'm personally praying that he is completely bewildered and doesn't find anything and we can give up a shout of praise to God and go back to our real life. Sadly I don't think that's going to happen - not because He can't but because I think we've started down a path that I don't think will be cut short.
I hope all of this medical mumbo jumbo isn't too boring. I thought it would be interesting to look back at and see when I thought this little pain medicine made me sick - how cute. I'm going to try and upload a pic on here of the port. They covered it with a heart shaped gauze and you can see it bleeding through, so I have a bleeding heart haha. It doesn't hurt too bad, mostly like if you worked out your pecs really hard and the next day they are super sore. Anyway, stay well and I'll talk again soon!
Monday, April 16, 2012
Happy One Year Anniversary!
Last year, around this time, I was looking super hot in a wedding dress and Danny was the finest looking fellow I had ever seen. I really can't believe it's already been a year of marriage. At some point I will sit down and write how Danny and I met and make you jealous over our sweeping 8 month romance, but for right now I will have to leave you in anticipation. When we met, I was living in Asheville. I love Asheville and since Danny and I weren't sure when I would up for a big trip again, we spent the day there yesterday to celebrate. We started the day at Breakthrough Church. I was a member there for 2 1/2 years and miss my family there tremendously. Getting to see everyone and singing out my worship was so powerful and meant so much to me. Church is so awesome because it gives you a community of people that love you as you are (even when you are completely sucky like me). It's also awesome because it's a place I come face to face with God. For me, when I'm singing and listening to the message, God is inescapable. I can't continue to live life pretending that He isn't important to me or my life. And that everything else, cancer included, just isn't as important. I am so thankful for perspective. Whether I beat this like a champ or I have a really hard time, it's not what really matters. I know that sounds crazy, but it's what I really believe and find solace in.
We ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant (Papas and Beer - where we went on our first date), visited with some of our most favorite people, and wrapped things up at the Chocolate Lounge. We were planning to stay for dinner and whatever other adventures we found, but we were both exhausted. Instead of talking about silly and exciting things, we mostly discussed cancer and it's impact on our life. When we got home, Danny said "I wanted our anniversary to be so wonderful but no matter how far I drove, I couldn't get away from the cancer." It broke my heart. I hate that there is something inside of me that is so toxic and that affects so many people in such a negative way. I can't believe this is just the beginning and it already has changed so much. I love my husband more than anything - I couldn't go through this without him.
I had the echocardiogram today. It was a simple ultrasound of my heart. It made me a little sad that the only ultrasound I will ever get will be because of my cancer and not because I'm pregnant. But as my fortune cookie aptly stated earlier in the week "Don't cry over spilt milk." Tomorrow I'm getting my port in and I'm a little nervous. Hopefully, it's not too bad. I'll let you guys know.
We ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant (Papas and Beer - where we went on our first date), visited with some of our most favorite people, and wrapped things up at the Chocolate Lounge. We were planning to stay for dinner and whatever other adventures we found, but we were both exhausted. Instead of talking about silly and exciting things, we mostly discussed cancer and it's impact on our life. When we got home, Danny said "I wanted our anniversary to be so wonderful but no matter how far I drove, I couldn't get away from the cancer." It broke my heart. I hate that there is something inside of me that is so toxic and that affects so many people in such a negative way. I can't believe this is just the beginning and it already has changed so much. I love my husband more than anything - I couldn't go through this without him.
I had the echocardiogram today. It was a simple ultrasound of my heart. It made me a little sad that the only ultrasound I will ever get will be because of my cancer and not because I'm pregnant. But as my fortune cookie aptly stated earlier in the week "Don't cry over spilt milk." Tomorrow I'm getting my port in and I'm a little nervous. Hopefully, it's not too bad. I'll let you guys know.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Team Naomi vs. Lymphoma - Update #2
This seems like the longest week ever. I can't believe it was only last Friday we found out I had cancer. A lot has happened since then. On Tuesday I got a bone marrow biopsy, which wasn't the most pleasant experience I've ever had. I would say it's somewhere between getting stepped on by a horse and getting pepper sprayed. One of the worst parts was this horrible "medicine" they put in your vein to make you a little loopy that feels like a dragon is breathing liquid fire through your arm. No worries, I survived. We will hear the results of that test, as well as results from the PETscan I did yesterday, next Thursday the 19th. That should also be the day when they tell us whether I have other little nasty cancer spots throughout my body, what my stage is, and what our plan of attack will be.
On Thursday, my mom and I went to Chemo Education (which we affectionately called "poison class"). My mom is amazing, by the way. Danny was accepted to present a paper he had written and researched at a conference in Illinois this weekend, which he had been totally jazzed about for months. He wouldn't have felt good about going if my mom hadn't just dropped everything, got in the car, drove 7 hours, and stayed with me. He really didn't feel good about going anyway because he's the most incredible husband on the planet and wanted to be with me (because I'm super cute), but we finally coerced him to go, which I'm glad for. Anyway, I digress. Poison class. Yea, those couple hours were a downer. Here are some "super cool" facts about my impending treatment:
1. I will be on a regimen known as RCHOP. Describing these 5 drugs and their side effects sound like they're actually a list of powers of an incredibly menacing fictional villian, not what I will willingly be shooting into my veins. One is actually referred to as "the red devil". Awesome.
2. I will be getting chemo every 3 weeks. The first round should take about 8 hours and then the subsequent ones will be more like 5. Depending on what they find on the tests and how I respond to treatment, I will get 6-8 rounds. I will also likely get radiation (which I still don't know anything about) to help shrink the really annoying tumor in my tibia.
3. I will start losing my hair a week after the first round of chemo. I'll probably just buzz cut it the day before I start. If I look ugly, just focus on the beautiful jade earrings my incredible mother-in-law sent me. I'll be wearing them every day I can because they make me happy.
4. Chemo will likely cause my body to start menopause about a month after my first treatment, with hot flashes and all. That means I probably won't ever get the chance to be pregnant. Thankfully Danny and I have already had a heart for fostering and adopting, but it's still a little bit crazy to not have that option anymore.
5. After getting a dose of chemo, I can expect to be down and out for 3-5 days. I'll feel a little better and then feel bad again from day 7-10. That's when my white blood cell count should be the lowest and I'm not supposed to see anyone, touch anything, etc. so I don't get sick. Of course that's all relative - I'm pretty sure I'll already feel sick. But anyway. Then the rest of the time I should be slowly getting back to myself until the next round. I'll go in every week for blood tests.
6. Our house has to be sparkling clean. I know, I'm laughing too. This has never been my or Danny's forte. One of the many ways we will have to adjust.
At the end of poison class, we walked into the chemo room. Again, depressing. I seem to be the youngest patient they have, by far. Even though it's sad that I have cancer and I'm young, it's really a gift because my body is so much stronger. I'm really healthy as a horse beyond all of this cancer mess.
I have an echocardiogram on Monday and my port is going in on Tuesday. I didn't even know what a port was until last Monday. If you are like I was, a port is this smallish circular piece attached to a tube that gets put under my skin over my heart. They use it to dump the chemo through and it's easier on your body than pushing it through an arm/hand vein. Then Wednesday off (yippee!) and another appointment with the oncologist on Thursday.
I am so incredibly thankful for all of you that have offered encouraging words, emails, texts, notes, and time. I am overwhelmed by the support I have and count myself incredibly lucky. Obviously Danny and I haven't had much time to process all of this and virtually no time to process this with just us, so please forgive us if we haven't replied to you or called you back. It doesn't mean that we aren't thankful or that we don't care - it's just been difficult to find the words to say. It's hard for me to even say "I have cancer" out loud. It's just unreal. I feel like people expect me to cry or be angry. Sometimes I'm both of those things, but mostly, right now, I'm numb. Not because I'm avoiding it, but just because it's so sudden, so strange. I don't feel like this is my life. But it is, and I will move forward and do what I'm told needs to be done, even though chemo sounds like hell and my husband is devastated and my mom is heart broken and I don't know what to feel.
We will continue to update you as we go.
On Thursday, my mom and I went to Chemo Education (which we affectionately called "poison class"). My mom is amazing, by the way. Danny was accepted to present a paper he had written and researched at a conference in Illinois this weekend, which he had been totally jazzed about for months. He wouldn't have felt good about going if my mom hadn't just dropped everything, got in the car, drove 7 hours, and stayed with me. He really didn't feel good about going anyway because he's the most incredible husband on the planet and wanted to be with me (because I'm super cute), but we finally coerced him to go, which I'm glad for. Anyway, I digress. Poison class. Yea, those couple hours were a downer. Here are some "super cool" facts about my impending treatment:
1. I will be on a regimen known as RCHOP. Describing these 5 drugs and their side effects sound like they're actually a list of powers of an incredibly menacing fictional villian, not what I will willingly be shooting into my veins. One is actually referred to as "the red devil". Awesome.
2. I will be getting chemo every 3 weeks. The first round should take about 8 hours and then the subsequent ones will be more like 5. Depending on what they find on the tests and how I respond to treatment, I will get 6-8 rounds. I will also likely get radiation (which I still don't know anything about) to help shrink the really annoying tumor in my tibia.
3. I will start losing my hair a week after the first round of chemo. I'll probably just buzz cut it the day before I start. If I look ugly, just focus on the beautiful jade earrings my incredible mother-in-law sent me. I'll be wearing them every day I can because they make me happy.
4. Chemo will likely cause my body to start menopause about a month after my first treatment, with hot flashes and all. That means I probably won't ever get the chance to be pregnant. Thankfully Danny and I have already had a heart for fostering and adopting, but it's still a little bit crazy to not have that option anymore.
5. After getting a dose of chemo, I can expect to be down and out for 3-5 days. I'll feel a little better and then feel bad again from day 7-10. That's when my white blood cell count should be the lowest and I'm not supposed to see anyone, touch anything, etc. so I don't get sick. Of course that's all relative - I'm pretty sure I'll already feel sick. But anyway. Then the rest of the time I should be slowly getting back to myself until the next round. I'll go in every week for blood tests.
6. Our house has to be sparkling clean. I know, I'm laughing too. This has never been my or Danny's forte. One of the many ways we will have to adjust.
At the end of poison class, we walked into the chemo room. Again, depressing. I seem to be the youngest patient they have, by far. Even though it's sad that I have cancer and I'm young, it's really a gift because my body is so much stronger. I'm really healthy as a horse beyond all of this cancer mess.
I have an echocardiogram on Monday and my port is going in on Tuesday. I didn't even know what a port was until last Monday. If you are like I was, a port is this smallish circular piece attached to a tube that gets put under my skin over my heart. They use it to dump the chemo through and it's easier on your body than pushing it through an arm/hand vein. Then Wednesday off (yippee!) and another appointment with the oncologist on Thursday.
I am so incredibly thankful for all of you that have offered encouraging words, emails, texts, notes, and time. I am overwhelmed by the support I have and count myself incredibly lucky. Obviously Danny and I haven't had much time to process all of this and virtually no time to process this with just us, so please forgive us if we haven't replied to you or called you back. It doesn't mean that we aren't thankful or that we don't care - it's just been difficult to find the words to say. It's hard for me to even say "I have cancer" out loud. It's just unreal. I feel like people expect me to cry or be angry. Sometimes I'm both of those things, but mostly, right now, I'm numb. Not because I'm avoiding it, but just because it's so sudden, so strange. I don't feel like this is my life. But it is, and I will move forward and do what I'm told needs to be done, even though chemo sounds like hell and my husband is devastated and my mom is heart broken and I don't know what to feel.
We will continue to update you as we go.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Team Naomi vs. Lymphoma - Update #1
Written by my adoring and wonderful husband Danny:
Friends and family,
Today marked the beginning of our fight against Naomi's cancer. We met with the oncologist, who began outlining his plans to cure Naomi. At this point, what we know:
- There is a tumor in Naomi's tibia, and it is Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma
- We have a bilateral (meaning two-site) bone marrow biopsy tomorrow to see if the lymphoma is elsewhere in the marrow
- A PET-Scan sometime (to see if the lymphoma is elsewhere in the body)
- We will have a port placed next Tuesday (4/17) which will be used for Naomi's chemotherapy
- We are expecting six months of aggressive chemotherapy, because the oncologist is not just aiming for comfort or life extension, but FOR A CURE. Naomi's cancer has a 80-90% treatability rate, and within those who respond to chemo there is a 60% cure rate. The Dr. said that is good in a fight against cancer. We also learned that this form of lymphoma is VERY responsive to chemo and radiation. So we are going to kick its ass (sorry, church friends, for the language...but that is what we are going to do).
What we do NOT know, unfortunately, is the stage of the cancer. We *WILL* know that in the coming week or two, after all these tests, biopsies, and scans.
There may be more but honestly, it's been a long day so I'm kind of useless for anything except taking a nap. The important thing is that we are moving forward: we know where we are headed, and we are moving in that direction. It feels good to no longer be sitting in that in-between period of knowing Naomi has cancer, but not knowing where to go next. It feels good to be picking up momentum and moving in the direction of the cure.
For anyone who has called, texted, emailed, and/or visited - we thank you and love you. Keep praying and hoping with and for us. It's going to be a long, hard fight...but we know we are not alone.
Grace, peace and strong coffee,
Danny & Naomi
Friends and family,
Today marked the beginning of our fight against Naomi's cancer. We met with the oncologist, who began outlining his plans to cure Naomi. At this point, what we know:
- There is a tumor in Naomi's tibia, and it is Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma
- We have a bilateral (meaning two-site) bone marrow biopsy tomorrow to see if the lymphoma is elsewhere in the marrow
- A PET-Scan sometime (to see if the lymphoma is elsewhere in the body)
- We will have a port placed next Tuesday (4/17) which will be used for Naomi's chemotherapy
- We are expecting six months of aggressive chemotherapy, because the oncologist is not just aiming for comfort or life extension, but FOR A CURE. Naomi's cancer has a 80-90% treatability rate, and within those who respond to chemo there is a 60% cure rate. The Dr. said that is good in a fight against cancer. We also learned that this form of lymphoma is VERY responsive to chemo and radiation. So we are going to kick its ass (sorry, church friends, for the language...but that is what we are going to do).
What we do NOT know, unfortunately, is the stage of the cancer. We *WILL* know that in the coming week or two, after all these tests, biopsies, and scans.
There may be more but honestly, it's been a long day so I'm kind of useless for anything except taking a nap. The important thing is that we are moving forward: we know where we are headed, and we are moving in that direction. It feels good to no longer be sitting in that in-between period of knowing Naomi has cancer, but not knowing where to go next. It feels good to be picking up momentum and moving in the direction of the cure.
For anyone who has called, texted, emailed, and/or visited - we thank you and love you. Keep praying and hoping with and for us. It's going to be a long, hard fight...but we know we are not alone.
Grace, peace and strong coffee,
Danny & Naomi
Friday, April 6, 2012
The "C" word and the first time we used it.
Friends - This morning I found out that I have cancer. Diffuse large B-cell lymphoma to be exact. This has been the problem with my leg all along. To catch those up who don't know what's going on, my knee started hurting around Thanksgiving of last year. It hurt for about a week and then got better. This happened again in mid-December. That time, I went to urgent care. They gave me some medicine and sent me on my way. At the beginning of January, the pain came back and this time it stayed. I went back to the doctor, they gave me a steriod shot (thinking it was some sort of inflammation) and referred me to an orthopedic doctor. There they thought my knee cap was out of line and causing things to rub together the wrong way. I got a brace and new shoes and more medicine, but by the beginning of March the pain was even more debilitating. This time Danny and I decided to do everything we could to figure out exactly what was wrong. We got an MRI which showed a large tumor in my tibia bone, just below my knee. The bone scan, CT scan, and biopsy happened in quick succession last week and today we got the news. No one saw it coming.
What we know - the tumor, when biopsy-ed, what very hard which I guess means the majority of it is already dead. Evidently it grew so quickly that it ran out of blood to "feast" on. It is completely inside my bone, originating in the marrow. I will likely go through chemotherapy, although we don't know when it will start or how long it will last. We have an appointment with an oncologist on Monday.
We are terrified and sad. Just 10 days shy of our one year anniversary, Danny and I never thought this would be something we would have to go through together, much less this soon. I am currently on crutches until further notice, which means I can't do my job. They have been incredibly accommodating at work and moved me to answering phones in the back, but we don't know how long I will be able to work/keep my medical benefits. It's frustrating and overwhelming.
We have an incredible family that is a huge support to us. Our church and our friends in the area have already responded with love and time and financial support. I am so so thankful to have Danny, who continually covers me with love and patience and kindness. Without him, I don't know what I would do. I didn't want to write this to make your day sad or bring more worry into your life. I just wanted to tell you what is happening and ask you to pray, if that's the sort of thing you do. We can't bear this burden alone.
I love you all and thank you for being a beautiful blessing in my life. Naomi
What we know - the tumor, when biopsy-ed, what very hard which I guess means the majority of it is already dead. Evidently it grew so quickly that it ran out of blood to "feast" on. It is completely inside my bone, originating in the marrow. I will likely go through chemotherapy, although we don't know when it will start or how long it will last. We have an appointment with an oncologist on Monday.
We are terrified and sad. Just 10 days shy of our one year anniversary, Danny and I never thought this would be something we would have to go through together, much less this soon. I am currently on crutches until further notice, which means I can't do my job. They have been incredibly accommodating at work and moved me to answering phones in the back, but we don't know how long I will be able to work/keep my medical benefits. It's frustrating and overwhelming.
We have an incredible family that is a huge support to us. Our church and our friends in the area have already responded with love and time and financial support. I am so so thankful to have Danny, who continually covers me with love and patience and kindness. Without him, I don't know what I would do. I didn't want to write this to make your day sad or bring more worry into your life. I just wanted to tell you what is happening and ask you to pray, if that's the sort of thing you do. We can't bear this burden alone.
I love you all and thank you for being a beautiful blessing in my life. Naomi
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