Secretly On the Side of Hope

When I was in high school I had a secret admirer. 

To this day I don't know who he was. The only reason that I ever knew he existed was because at one point he sent me a red rose. 

Attached to it was a note.

I don't remember it exactly. 

But it said something like:

I am trapped between fear and hope. 

But secretly I am on the side of hope. 

I had not thought of that in years. 

In fact, I don't even know if I ever told my husband about it. (He obviously knows now :-) 

But as I was preparing for this mornings results, that line popped into my head.

Secretly I am on the side of hope. 

I know what is at stake today. 

I know all too well. 

Yet, secretly I am on the side of hope. 

Hope of a long and prosperous life. 

One of health, free from this dreadful disease. 

Hope that God will give me the gift of more time.

Time to live out my dreams. 

Yes, secretly I am on the side of hope. 

I am grateful for this hope.

As I cannot imagine my life without it. 

The emptiness 

The despair. 

So, I will cling to this hope today and always. 

As it is a precious gift. 

My Latest Scan Documented: [The Uncut Version]

I have one last post that I wanted to make tonight before tomorrow.
I know once I get the news tomorrow I won't want to share this one.
One, I will either be too excited about my news to think backwards.
Or, two, I will be coping with other things.
Definitely praying for the first option.

But anyway... carrying on.

I mentioned in my last post that I documented my last scan.
So, here you go.
Just in case you ever want to know what one of these is like.
Of course you don't - but here it is anyway.

First, I shared the registration fiasco.
But once I got to the radiology dept. things moved pretty quickly.
Probably because it was 4:45pm and those people wanted to go home.
I don't blame them.

Anyway, I get there and my person calls me back.
Except it is not my normal person.
That threw me off right there.
Julie.
That's her name.
She has done all of my scans here locally.
We have been through a lot together.
She was the one who did the scan when I was diagnosed.
She was expecting then.
Then later on when they did the scan that showed the cancer wasn't completely gone.
Yep, she was there.
Finally, the one that showed I was clear.
Again, Julie was at the wheel.

I don't know Julie.
Other than when she does my scans.
But it is strange.
You just get used to a person and it just kind of throws you off when someone else does it.

The new guy, Daniel, was just as capable.
But I still missed Julie.

It's like the guy who does my pulmonary stuff.
That guy gets so excited about those pulmonary tests.
And thank goodness he does because there is not much there to get excited about and you need all of the encouragement you can get.
He is good at what he does.
And I am used to him.

Back to Julie.
If any of you at the hospital know who I am talking about - tell her she was missed.

On to the scan...
The first thing you have to do is change into your gown.
Thank goodness I get to keep my pants on.
Otherwise it would be even more awkward.

Me.
Looking super happy to have my scan.

    

Me. Again. Waiting in my gown in the hallway for the world to see. Or at least whoever walks down that hallway. Better than last time. There were about 20 guys waiting for some sort of testing for some sort of job. Awesome. Nothing like walking down the hall trying to hold your gown closed in the back. Awk.Ward. 

But there were pretty flowers in the waiting room.
That was nice.

And yes. I had to take pictures of them.
A little side note here.
My grandpa's favorite flower was the sunflower.
He passed away the day before my birthday 10 years ago.
From cancer.

I was also born in the sunflower state.

Perhaps these were a sign.
A sign of love.
A sign of peace.
A sign of hope.

I can only hope.

    
Me. Again. Laying in the scan thing. Super comfortable as you can tell. And this is my view. You have to pay a lot of money to get a view like that.

At least where I get my PET scans they have leaf impression things in the roof. Those are interesting for about the first 2 minutes at least.

When the scan starts a man's voice comes on and says, "Don't breath and don't swallow."
Somehow he always times this for when I have just exhaled and I have the shear desire to breath and swallow.
Why is it that when someone tells you NOT to do something it just makes you want to do it that s much more?
And then there is just the whole desire to breathe thing.

Oh, and one last thing. Don't wear bobby pins in your hair.
Had to pull about 20 of those bad boys out of my hair before we could begin.



This is the lovely machine that makes me feel yucky.

Two injections of iodine.
(That is also the stuff that makes you feel like you are peeing your pants - just in case you missed that post.)

Then I am done.

Pretty exciting huh.

Well, I am off to bed to get some sleep.
Hopefully you enjoyed this latest lesson in cancer 101.


Blessings.

[the room] - where my world changed forever

While I was at my scan last week I thought it would be interesting to document some of it.
I had never done that before.
I don't know why.
Probably because that was not what I was focusing on at the time.

Why this time was different - I don't know.

However, as I started to take some pictures some things hit me.
Namely, a flood of memories of 2.2.2011.
The day I was diagnosed.

This is the room where we received the news of my diagnosis.

I sat in that very chair that you can see through the door there. 

I will never forget those words.

We think you have lymphoma.

5 words.

19 months and 2 days later I can still hear the doctor saying them as if they just happened yesterday. 

I had not noticed this room before during my other scans.

I guess it was one of those things where I just kept my head down and did what I needed to do. 

This time was different. 

It was strange.

And hard.

Like I had to face some of these things to truly move on. 

Healing. 

Wow.

Just when you think your "good" you realize how far you are from really being "good". 

(Pretty sure I just opened myself up to a flood of comments there. Please, just be kind.) 

Thanks for hanging in there with me and my weird photos and blog posts. 

No one has turned me in yet - so I must still be okay. 

Things are looking up yet! 

:-) 

(Yes, I typically do use sarcasm to mask and deflect my inner most feelings. That's for all my counselor friends out there. You know who you are. :-) 

time.

If you have been reading along you will know that in less than 24 hours we receive some big news.
I have been doing a lot off processing.
A lot of coping.
A lot of praying.

But I have been trying my best not to make that my sole focus.
So, I ask my self questions.
Like, if this was the last day before I find out I have to go back into treatment - how do I want to spend it?
Or, how would I want to remember this day by?
It really puts things in perspective for me and forces me into a different mode.
One of living.
Not one of fear.

So, yesterday we spent a little time in Ouray.
We watched the fish.
Played on the playground.
Walked the streets.
Ate yummy food.
Ate ice cream.
Had great company.

It was wonderful.
Yes, win, lose, or draw, I can look back on that day with no regrets.
Because we simply had time.
Time with each other.
Time with friends.
Time doing something fun.
Time making memories.

Honestly, I could not ask for more.

So, I wanted to share some of the memories we made.
Enjoy as we enjoyed.

   

  

More to come....

[13]

13.
It seems so much bigger than 12.
Another milestone.
Another bitter/sweet moment.

My oldest boy turned 13 this last month.
And although I am a little late with this post.
I still wanted to take a minute to reflect on my boy young man.

He is just a sweet kid.
We are so blessed.

He is smart.
Funny.
He loves God.
And just loves life.

I cannot imagine my life without him.
And boy, has he been through some stuff.

When he was born he couldn't breath on his own.
It took them 6 hours to get a breathing tube in him.
During that time he stopped breathing countless times.
Each time he would fight back in order to stay in this world.
For that, I am beyond words grateful.

He was little.
Only 5 pounds 15 ounces.
But his strength was indescribable.
To this day.
13 years later.
I am still left in awe.

He has shown me so much about myself.
About being a mom.
About being strong.
How you keep fighting.
No matter what.

He has had 6 surgeries.
A trach for the first 14 months of his life.
Countless doctors appointments.
Therapy of every kind.
He has been misdiagnosed 5 different times.
Yet, he presses on.
No matter what.
And if you look at him now you would never guess that he has had to endure so much.
He is just so solid.

Until now I have never really talked about this openly.
Not because I am ashamed.
I am actually the opposite.
Not because it was hard.
It was hard but God did so much through it.
But because I never wanted it to define who he was.
Not as a boy and not as the man he is growing into.
I never wanted people to expect any less of him because they knew he had some challenges in the beginning.
I wanted that God given internal strength to shine through no matter what.
And it does.




I will never forget the day he was born.
After taking hours to stabilize him they took him to another hospital that had a NICU.
I had to stay behind.
It was one of the hardest nights of my life.
I just wanted to hold my boy and I couldn't.

It was about 11pm.
His doctor called from the NICU.
He told me that he was stabilized and doing okay.
But that is when he said it.
He said, "This boy is going to be a smart one."
He said he could see it in his eyes.
How right that man was.

He is brilliant.
Wise beyond his years.
And he truly loves to learn.

I am so excited to see how God uses him.
Right now he thinks he may want to be a historian.
A professor somewhere perhaps.
Perhaps a biblical historian.

Whatever he does.
I know he is going to be amazing.
Because he already is amazing.
Each day I thank the Lord for him.
And celebrate these bitter/sweet moments.

Each day he is one step closer to heading out on his own to truly embrace what God has for him.
For that I am so excited.
I am so excited for him.
But I know it will be hard when he is not under the same roof.
It is all just bitter/sweet.

For today I will cherish.
As I know tomorrow will come sooner than I want it to.
And then tomorrow I will rejoice.
For I know I was deliberate in the way I cherished today.

September: {Hodgkin's Lymphoma Awareness Month}

September.

It means many things to our family. 

The birthday month of our littlest boy.

Other special birthdays of family members and friends.

An anniversary month for my grandparents.

But it also means that it is the Hodgkin's Lymphoma Awareness Month as well.

If I could - I would forget all about this cancer.

But I can't.

And I never will.

Hodgkin's Lymphoma makes up around 1% of all cancers. 

It also has a very high survival rate.

If it is caught early. 

People constantly ask me what my first symptom was. 

For me, it was a lump in my neck. 

Right above my color bone.

But that is not the only sign or symptom.

And every situation is different.

I am happy to share my story with anyone who asks. 

For now.

I will just ask you to pray.

Not just for my family.

But for the next family that will be diagnosed and doesn't even know if yet.

Pray that God gives them that peace beyond all understanding.

That they cling to Him as the world as they know it is shattered.

Pray that God gives the doctor's and nurses the wisdom to treat them.

And that God gives them the strength to endure. 

Even though I do not know that family by name.

My heart breaks for them.

But all I can do is pray. 

 

I don't know if you remember the banner I designed last year. You can take a look at that here: September Hodgkin's Lymphoma Awareness Month 2011

I actually think I like this design even better. :-)

Please feel free to download and share. 

Spread the awareness.

Spread the love. 

Bless you all. 

Coping with Fear

I like to document the tough stuff as I am going through it.
This is not easy as it forces me to be very vulnerable.
However, I feel that this is what God wants me to do.
So, I do it.

First, I want to help others.
And it is so much easier for someone to relate to me if they are reading my words as I am going through something.
Not days or even weeks later as I am trying to remember how I was feeling.
They can say - yeah, I feel exactly the same way.
Or, that is a different perspective.
And maybe even the occasional - wow, she's crazy.
But whatever their reaction, they can see that I am coming from a very real and honest place.
And that is important to me.

Second, this helps me greatly to process what I am going through.
It forces me to look at the real issues behind whatever I am facing.
Deal with them.
Pray about them.
And.
Hopefully.
Experience healing.

Help for others.
Healing for me.
Those are good things and when you deal with cancer you need all the good things your can get.

So, the issue.
I have been dealing with fear lately.
Namely - the fear that the cancer is back.

This is a common fear I know.
Nearly every person that has battled cancer has shared the same fear at one point or another.
This fear also accompanies the fear of dying.
At least for me it does.
I don't want to speak for anyone else.

Honestly, I am just not ready to die.
Pure and simple.
That is as honest as I can be right there.
But I do realize how little control I have over that...

Anyway, I have been dealing with this fear thing.
And I wanted to share how I really cope with it.
What works for me and maybe even what doesn't.
Not sure where this is going really.

I have identified my fear as the fear of the unknown.
I don't know if the cancer is still gone or if it is back.
If it is back, will I die?
Might as well cut to the chase and be brutally honest.
Otherwise, what's the point?

Strangely, I don't fear treatment.
Treatment stinks.
In fact, if I were to ever choose a time to use stronger language that would be entirely inappropriate - this would probably be that time.
But I will refrain.
I know, such a rebel.

But I honestly can go through any treatment that is thrown at me...
As long as I live.
That is my heart right there.

I want to see my babies grow up.
I want to see them graduate.
I want to see them get married.
I want to be a grandma.
I want to have old people problems.
Whatever those are.
I want them.
I want to see my husband's hair turn gray.
I want to hold his wrinkled hand.
I want to have piles and piles of precious memories.
And when I finally get to the end of my days my family can celebrate because I lived enough.
Right now I just don't feel like I have lived enough yet.

Yes, I am crying.
So, if you are crying too then we will just cry together.

I have a few more days before I officially find out my results.
(Wednesday, for those of you who are wondering.)

So, I have a choice.
I can spend those days consumed by fear, crying non-stop.
Thinking of the "what-if's" and "unknowns".
Isolating myself from the world - and maybe even my family.

But, honestly, what good is that going to do?
None.

So, how do I get control of it?
Here is what I do...

For me, I focus on the known.
1.) I just had my blood work done in June and it looked good. There was no cause of concern then.
2.) We were prayerful and thoughtful about my treatment. God gave us a peace about it and I walked it out 100%.
3.) Just because I know people who are going back into treatment does not mean I will have to go back into treatment. Everyone is different. Every case is unique. Each cancer is different.
4.) The cure rate for the cancer I had is very high. Almost the best you can get when it comes to cancer.
5.) Even if the cancer is back that does not automatically mean that I am going to die. (This is a big one here.)
6.) Ultimately God is in control. Whether the cancer is still gone or it is back - God will give me the strength I need to get through it and do what I need to do. 

It is important to realize that because I am struggling with this issue does not mean that I am having a crisis in faith.
I say that because when you are standing on this end and you receive people's reactions - it feels like that is sometimes implied.
I know God's goodness.
Even today.

What this does mean is that I am human.
It does mean that I understand that God's will may be different than my will.
It means that I respect that just because I am a Christian that does not mean that my life is going to be rainbows and lollipops.
I am going to go through hard things.
Life is going to be hard sometimes.
After all, look at what Jesus endured.
Without sin.
He died for our sin.
The ultimate.
If He went through that, what makes me think that I won't have to go through hard things too.
After all, He was the son of God.

Yes, I cling to my faith.
I cling to my hope.
And God gives me the courage.

I pray for peace.
And I know I will find it.
Sometimes it just takes a little time.
And focusing on what I KNOW.

And what I know is...
That God is Good.
All the Time.

Thanks for reading.