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Cancer Journey

Cancer Journey/ HEALTH

A Health Update

I wanted to let you all know that I wrote a new post at my Caring Bridge site.
  
It is a post that contains lots of female anatomy talk (I almost said “female anatomy parts” I bet THAT would have gotten a few clicks, huh?) so I will give you the choice to click over instead of posting the whole thing here! 😉
Cancer Journey/ HEALTH/ Spiritual

Reflecting On Cancer

One year ago today, at about this exact time in the late afternoon, I received the call that I had invasive ductal carcinoma. 
Breast cancer.  
I find myself reflecting on all that has transpired this past year.  I can’t believe it has only been a year, as a whole lot of life was lived in one year.  There is much that has happened that I wish had not, but there is A WHOLE LOT MORE that has happened that I would not trade for the world.  I can’t even begin to tell you how much love has been showered upon me through words and actions.  I also can’t even begin to tell you how close God has been to me throughout the year.  He held me, never left nor will leave me, and is just an amazing, amazing God!
Here is a bit of what I have written about that day one year ago:
________________
Diagnosis

It all started with a lump.
A soft, small ½ inch round thickening.
I never dreamed I would eventually be told that the thickening was actually a 6 centimeter malignant tumor.

We were celebrating Christmas, 2009, I bring 3 sisters in front of a bathroom mirror and discreetly show them what I had been keeping a puzzled eye on for months.  They too, are puzzled, as we all stare with furrowed brows at this lump thickening of mine.  I go to the doctor.  She sends me for an ultrasound.  I am told it is normal tissue, and I that have some fluid filled cysts, nothing to worry about. 

But I still worry, I stand in front of mirror many evenings, while brushing my teeth, looking with eyebrows still furrowed.  I examine. Is it changing?  Am I imagining?  I am a bit unsettled.

It is May. I make the decision to go back to the doctor.  She points me to a surgeon, just in case. This surgeon is the “best in town”  She is one who deals with breast lumps daily and has for years.  She quickly looks, quickly feels.  She scoots her chair up to mine, looks me square in the eyes and says “I know what I am feeling and it is not cancer.  

SHE IS SO CONFIDENT!
I name her Dr. Confident.

She tells me to go home and quit worrying.  I sigh relief. 
BUT
My hero husband does not.  He presses, for  now he is puzzled.  He is out of place in this room, the first time he has ever come to such an appointment with me–it is even during a workday. 
Why did he come?
Because of his love and God’s plan.

Husband asks “can we at least have an ultrasound to compare to the last?”

Surgeon sighs, hastily scribbles out a consent for an ultrasound and says “If you must, so you quit worrying…but I know what I am feeling and I am  sure it is nothing”  I leave confident, because she was confident.
The order for ultrasound sits, gets buried under paper. 
I become buried in summer fun with my 3 girls—they are a 10, 9 and 7.

It is now the end of August.
I start having pain under my left rib, in the spleen area.
They want to ultrasound.
I think, “Oh, I should go dig out my other ultrasound order, the one for breast. I’ll hit two birds with one stone”  Might as well.

My spleen looked perfectly normal  BUT
My breast is now puzzling the professionals
They do a biopsy.
The procedure is incredibly painful, a searing pain that shook my core, and an experience that made me shake for over an hour later.
Why wouldn’t the anesthetic work?
Why couldn’t they get me numb? 
We now know it was because vascular areas do not numb well.
Tumors are hungry and greedy, which makes them very vascular.
We didn’t know this then, but I wonder if my kind nurse did…

I wait for 3 days.
The call comes on a Tuesday late afternoon. 
August 31.

I am in my bedroom.
My home is full of rowdy kids, mine and neighbors.
The nurse says, “will you please hold for Dr. Confident”

My heart is pounding.  I am sitting on the edge of my bed.
Elevator music in one ear, the sound of my children playing downstairs in the other.
There are more sounds, the sound of my heart pounding, and of thoughts swirling.
“Why didn’t the nurse just tell me?”  “Oh, no. It is the end of the workday.  Dr.’s save the hard calls for the end of the work day “

Dr. Confident comes on the phone, voice low and serious.
“Amy, I’m sorry to have to tell you that you have Invasive Ductal Carcinoma”
Silence… but then my breath gets louder and faster.
“Do you understand what I am saying?”  “That means you have breast cancer”

I find myself in my closet, phone still attached to my ear.  I am having to concentrate on my breath, I say the word “Ok” three times.  It is the only thing I can think of to say.  My knees feel weird.  Is this what they mean by “weak in the knees?”

She wants to see me.
I then get angry and find my words. I tell her no.
I remind her that she named herself Dr. Confident.
I remind her that hero husband had to ask for an ultrasound.
I have not spoken to her since, but I do think I have forgiven.
I pray my story has changed her name to “Dr. Humbled” for her future patients sake.
I send kids home. I call husband. He tells me later that his knees, too, had buckled.
He comes home.  We look into each others eyes, fear reflecting fear. 
His hug never felt so good.
I am so sad for this good, good, husband, sad that I am the cause of his fear reflecting eyes.

Kids go to Bible Club for 3 hours.
We spend that time making many phone calls to those who love us.
I stutter out the words “I have breast cancer” with each call.  The experience of hearing my voice say those words aloud, knowing they cause fear and pain in those I love was not one I would get used to very quickly.  Every time I say it,  I have to force it out. It sounds so harsh.  It makes me cringe.

There is a thunderstorm that night.
I listen to the thunder, and a song with this verse as a chorus
(Isaiah 43:2)” When you pass through the water I will be with you.  When you pass through the flames you will not be burned-do not fear”

It is the first of many, many times our God would comfort me with song and His Word.  He has been with me, so near, so sweet and dear. 

Despite His words to me, fear had me in its grip that night.
I tried to sleep.
I would drift off, and would wake, dry heaving. 
Fear was wreaking havoc on my body.
I tired of waking to the heaves..  so I get up.
I find myself sorting.  I sort recipes.  I think about how they will outlive me.
I throw out  recipes that are full of sugar.  I don’t want to leave junk for my girls.
I think of the junk, the baggage that I have left, will leave.  I beg God for more time to make it all right.  To turn junk into treasure.  I can’t stop thinking of dying.  I feel crazy.  Husband wakes to comfort me.  He tells me I have to shut down the thoughts.  I agree, and for a moment feel less crazy.

How does one do this?
How does one fight fear of death, while facing death?
How do I open my clenched fists and allow “no’s” to become open hands that say “come what may?”

 Answered prayer started happening the very next morning.

I wake up to the harsh reality that I had dumped Dr. Now Humbled and am left in need. God moves mountains for me and shows me a beautiful chain of events within hours that was only by His doing.  God maneuvers, and by 10:00 am I have an Oncologist. Not just any Oncologist, but one who is and has been everything I need….
______________________  

I will stop there. 🙂
Facebook has a new feature where they show your status from the years before in the sidebar.  I got chills and tears when I read mine from a year ago, written in the evening, after an emotional evening of phone calls.  I vividly remember writing it, I was starring at my computer screen while in a daze, but then was shaken to the present by loud thunder.  That thunderstorm spurred this status:

the thunder outside reminds me how big our God is.

 ·  · August 31, 2010 at 8:20pm

It also reminded me of a song that we sing at church. I immediately looked up and watched this video at least 3 times in a row.  This song is a favorite and one to this day God uses to remind me of who He is.

15
Cancer Journey/ HEALTH/ Spiritual

I Hate Cancer

It’s 4:00 a.m. & I can’t sleep.
This is new to me.  Sleep never eludes me, it has always just come.
 I realize what a blessing this is.

Fall is coming.
I find myself in a funk.
This, too, is new to me.
Usually come fall I find renewed energy in the routine that it brings.

I remember spring.  The spring in my step.  Why am I falling back this fall?
I am falling back instead of springing ahead.
I hate the discouragement this realization brings.

“Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? {Psalm 43:5a}

Why am I so downcast?
Why the discouragement?
What to do about it?

I need to sort it out, so I write.

My diagnosis 1- year anniversary is coming up–August 31.
I should celebrate that I am here.  Instead, I mourn what was.
The ‘ongoing-ness’ of this reality is something I need to accept.

I pictured being done with it all by fall, actually, by summer!
Instead, the treatment brings on complications that keep me visiting doctors on a much too- regular basis.
Cysts, keloids, insane hormone levels. 
Implants that won’t stay put, requiring another slicing into this already so scarred body of mine.

I hate cancer.

Decisions need to be made.  I grasp for wisdom.  I search for answers.
I find few, for I am in a “special” category.
Very few studies are done on women my age.  Premenopausal.
There is much unknown.
Doctors give me homework to read up on, to help our decisions.
This research forces my eyes to face the stark statistics of my “Stage 3, 6 cm. tumor, with lymph node involvement” cancer.

50/50.

I have a 50/50 chance I will be alive in 10 years.  I did find a statistic that said 60/40.  I liked that one better.

I am 34.

Some days I feel so young, in my 20’s.  These days, I feel old. This past year has aged me, I feel like an old soul.

I want to live into my 80’s!
I want grandchildren.
I want wrinkles & crows feet & sagging & cellulite!

Despite wanting cellulite-ha- I need to exercise.
All summer I said, “come fall I will exercise.  I must, for it cuts chance of recurrence”

I take an hour walk, but then have to recover the next day.
A 2 hour nap in the morning and a 2 hour nap in the late afternoon.
The fatigue is incredible, all from a simple walk!
The only thing that brings on this type of fatigue for me is exercise, but I am told it is the best treatment for fatigue.

I do simple pilates for strength and the same day my arm wakes me up, aching in the night.
Will exercise bring on lymphedema?
I dig out my granny compression sleeve, my pout goes even deeper as I put it on.
Its tightness squeezes the motivation right out of me.

And then, there is the subject of money.
I hesitate to talk about it so publicly, it feels tacky.
Yet, it was a talk about money that caused the rest of my dominoes to fall, sending this crushing discouragement.

He gently tells me, “Our monthly expenses are so much higher now due to your health issues.  We need to find areas to cut”

We search the monthly budget numbers and start cutting, my anger at cancer growing with each snip.
I cry.  I feel guilty.  I feel bad that my tears make him feel bad.

Youngest daughters piano lessons–snip.
A date night a month-snip.
Family tradition outings.  My most loved coming up, the pumpkin patch–snip.
The idea of a gym membership for me–snip.
Our dream of Disney before the kids get too old for it–snip

Even as I write this I feel ashamed.
It is all so shallow.

We have shelter, a beautiful home.
We have health insurance–a luxury.  So many in my boat don’t.
We have food and water.  I think of mothers in Africa this very minute walking miles with limp children in search of a drink.  Could you imagine?

I know these things.  Yet I am still frustrated.
I think the emotions come from knowing its my needs, due to this dumb disease, that is causing all the trimming.

I hate cancer.

Fall also brings a much anticipated cancer support group, meeting 3 hours a week for 3 months!
It starts September 1st.
It is put on by St. Elizabeth Hospital, my home away from home.

I am excited.  I know a few of the women that will be attending, and I know of others and their stories.
Excited, but apprehensive. I  know this group will bring me into an intimate friendship with those whom I could lose.

Am I brave enough?

Some are living through what is my worst nightmare.  Reccurence.
I’ve read their stories, their story started as mine.
Stage 3, large tumor, lymph node involvement.
The treatment was exactly mine.
And now, a few years later, they are a Stage 5, cancer spreading to bones, to lungs.
Will that, too, be my story?
My heart breaks for them in reading their stories.
I marvel at the strength and joy I see in these women.
Despite the statistics they face daily, they smile at me.

A reminder that I need to find mine.

I don’t want to fall this fall.
I want to thrive, survive and live fully!!

I know what to do to get out of this fall funk,
I  know I will, for “He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it.” {Philippians 1:6}

I know it is a matter of processing, (thank you for allowing me) and then a “throwing off everything that hinders and entangles, and running with perseverance the race marked out for me.” {Hebrews 12:1}

All the while, “being still and knowing that He is God” {Psalm 46:10}, and “remembering His good works of the past” {Psalm 77:11} and of now.  I must list the gifts, exchanging my negative, falling thoughts for steady, thankful truth.

And when it is all I can do, I know that I have a safe place to lean hard into, even fall into, this fall.
He is my Hope, so I will.

“Why are you downcast, O my soul?  Why so disturbed?  I will put my hope in God!  I will praise Him again, my Savior and my God!” {Psalm 43:5}

20
Cancer Journey/ HEALTH

A “TMI” Health Update

 

Health update:

I have spent a lot of time at the Dr.’s office this summer.  Lots of blood tests and pelvic ultrasounds, and many hours discussing the best way to go for my “special case.” We have been sorting through my cycles and why I am forming ovarian cysts each month.  The cysts are uncomfortable and literally, a pain in my… “side”:)

~Side note…of all the treatments and tests I have gone through this last year, who would have “thunk” that pelvic ultrasounds would be some of my most dreaded!!  I have a tilted uterus, so lucky me has to drink at least 64 ounces instead of the normal 32 ounces of water, so they can see my ovaries on the scan.  I work so hard to get the timing just so, but of course, they are usually running late.  Then I get to lay down and have them push with the ultrasound scanner, on my very- 64- ounces- full bladder! Absolute torture!!!  I have had 3 in 3 months, and my girls love hearing how dreadful it is…they think it is so funny. They are waiting to hear a story of mommy wetting herself in the waiting room…I have a dreaded feeling it may happen someday…

These dumb cysts are a side effect from Tamoxifen, the hormonal treatment that is taken for 5 years.  We have spent the last 3 months making sure the cysts are not cancer and are not growing at an alarming rate.  Praise God, they are not.

We have also been keeping an eye on my hormone levels.  This past week I learned that due to the Tamoxifen/ovarian cyst issues, my hormone levels (estradiol and progesterone) are sky high.  I have the hormone levels of a woman in her second trimester of pregnancy!!

 

My doctor thinks these high levels are what is causing my extreme fatigue at times (it could be long term effects of chemo and radiation, too).  I have been very discouraged this week with my fatigue levels.  I hate spending daytime sleeping…

The kicker is that my cancer is fed by hormones, so to have high levels running through my body is not good.  At all.

My gynecologist is very, very against sending me into menopause by surgically removing my ovaries.  This is something I too, want to avoid.

We are praying for wisdom and direction.  I will be talking to my Oncologist about going off 5-year Tamoxifen (which is causing cysts and my hormone levels to skyrocket) and going on a Luteinizing hormone releasing hormone (LHRH) blocker.  Basically, it will suppress my hormone levels, but when I stop taking them years down the road, I will still have ovarian function.

Hmmm...other health news…

I have an implant that is slowly sliding down, it is about an inch “off.”  I am not happy with it.  This means another surgery.  I’ve tried whispering softly to it to behave and stay put…it didn’t work.

My daughter asked if it will slip all the way down to my belly button:) which I think may have spurred on a bad dream last night –my implant slipped all the way down to my ovarian cyst, caused the cyst rupture, and I was rushed back to the hospital.  Oh, yes…it was so realistic…. I felt that baby slide ALLLL the way down to my hip! EEEYYY! I woke up in a bad mood very annoyed at my boob.

Haven’t you missed my TMI (too-much-information) updates???:P

Hey…really. I held back.  I could have told you about all the side effects of having the hormone levels of a pregnant lady!!!!

 

SaveSave

5
Cancer Journey/ FAMILY/ HEALTH/ Love/ Marriage

Happy Anniversary, Husband!

Happy Anniversary to my amazing husband of 15 years!  
We have had quite a year, and our commitment to each other is stronger than ever.  I am so thankful to God for the gift of my husband!


{a video of our last year}
*If video gets “stuck” click on “youtube” at bottom right to watch it on YouTube
——————————-
“Cause we bear the light of the son of man

So there’s nothing left to fear
So I’ll walk with you in the shadow lands
Till the shadows disappear
Cause he promised not to leave us
And his promises are true
So in the face of all this chaos baby
I can dance with you” 
–Dancing In The Minefields, Andrew Petersen


I love that I get to keep on dancing with you, Todd.
Happy Anniversary, Baby.
————————————-

{A video of our years together that I made last year. I’ve had so many hair-do’s and a few don’ts!!}

15
Cancer Journey/ HEALTH/ Spiritual

Health Update-A Lump & A Biopsy


The past two days have been a whirlwind.  I will tell you about them, probably in way more detail than you care to know about, but it is therapeutic to write about it.  Thanks for contributing to my therapy-again:)

___________________________

Just when it starts getting “boring” around here, I FIND A LUMP.


Under my arm.  A lymph node.  
It felt very familiar, just like the one that was positive.

I found it Tuesday night, I was home alone.  Todd and the kids were at Bible Club.  I’m laying around, watching American Idol.  For some reason, I decide to check under my arm for lumps, as I have been advised to do–just not too often.  It had been awhile.

When my fingers rolled over an almond-sized lump, I froze, and a pit in my stomach formed instantly.  I couldn’t believe it.  I looked up and said “No, God.  Please no.”  

Things were just starting to feel normal.  My hair is getting long.  My body feels strong.  My emotions leveling out.  I was getting my groove back–proof? That very day I got honked at by a convertible full of college age boys!:)  Usually that would annoy me, but this time it brought a satisfied grin to my face and I thought, “uh-huh, proof I am not sick and bald anymore! They must like my newly grown eyelashes!” 🙂

I kept feeling the lump.  “Am I really feeling what I am feeling?” I started to cry.  I felt alone.  I wanted my husband.

When he got home, I told him. The word “no” escaped quickly and forcefully from his lips, the volume of his voice louder than normal.  His face fell, his eyes deepened into concern for me. We sat and stared at each other,as thunder rolled outside.  It was too “de-ja-vu”, too familiar, this pit in my stomach, our eyes finding comfort in the others, the storm outside and in.  It was just like the first time I told him of this crushing cancer news.  When life as we knew it, came crashing, along with the thunder that night in August.

I woke up the next morning, tears rolled before eyes opened.
I didn’t want to face the day. I wanted the lump to go away.  Maybe it did overnight.  I feel, and it announced it’s reality, and brought back the pit in my stomach, along with nausea.  I tell my husband I don’t want to get up.  He said, “I know.”  We both wiped my face and I willed myself up to greet my 3 blessings, do their hair, make their lunches.  They bounce around their morning routine in ignorant bliss.

They leave for school at 8:50.  I wait until 9:00 to make the call, it is when the doctor’s office opens.

They cannot get me in until Thursday at 3. Waiting even one day seemed like an eternity.  I hear His quiet voice, “I will be with you”

I am upset.  Tears come so easily.  I call a few of my loves, but stop because it makes me cry, which makes them cry.  My mom hears my tears and says, “I will be right there.”

As I wait, I get pen and paper and listen.  I say, “God, I want to hear you”  I write down what comes to mind.  It settles me, dries up the flow of tears.

My mom arrives at my door with a hug and ingredients to make Sloppy Joes.  She arrives in time to go to my plastic surgeon appointment with me, to remove some stubborn suture knots.

Dr. Hinze notices my deflated-ness right away.  He asks the reason. He is sad to hear it. He cares deeply for me, and expresses it each time I come, in a beautiful and professional way.  He makes me laugh and charms my mom.  He removed my sutures and the momentary pain distracts me from my thoughts. His nurse reassures, says to let them know if there is anything they can do, call them anytime.  

I walk out of that office with my chin up, held up by Dr. Hinze and his nurse and my mom.  Their care makes such a difference, I wonder if they know the power of that care?

My mom and I do lunch.  I am feeling happy, at peace, no tears.  I know my text to family and the prayers it bring contributes to this.

We come home.  I am overwhelmed by the mess of my house.  My cleaning help comes on Thursday, but the mess has to be picked up so she CAN clean.  I express to my mom I need help.  She starts in on my kitchen, and her Sloppy Joes.  I tackle the other rooms, surprised by my energy and motivation.  Thankful.

Wednesday night I am at peace, happy and thankful.  I enjoy dinner and my family.  God is good!

Today I wake up, my 3:00 appointment changed to 8:00 a.m.  God’s perfect timing.  He knows the desires of my heart — that my kids don’t have to see me go through procedures, or be shuffled everywhere, all the time while I am gone.  He moved my appointment time, He did this to make time for the biopsy to be done TODAY, instead of next week when my kids are out of school.  You have heard me say this many times. He is with me every step of the way. He has proved this to me over and over and over.  He is good.

My mom and her man shows up at my early morning appointment, despite the hour drive.  She walks in and my heart instantly feels full and thankful.  

Doctor Midathada is in India until mid-June.  I see a nurse practitioner instead.  I am greeted by name by the familiar faces at Nebraska Hematology and Oncology, all happy to see me again, but with a look of concern of why I am there.  

I change into the familiar, bleach-scented gown, and wait.  The nurse practitioner immediately feels what I do.  She says, wait here while I find a Doctor.  I feel disappointed, I wanted her to say, “Oh that? That is just scar tissue.”  No such luck.

An unfamiliar doctor comes in, all businesslike but very capable.  He reviews and familiarizes himself with my case within 5 minutes, very thoroughly.  I was impressed.  He feels the lump.  He talks about what a biopsy entails.  He said depending on what type of patient I am, we could sit on it and see if it gets bigger, or get it biopsied so we can just know.  He seemed pleased when I told him I am not a “wait and see” kinda girl anymore.  That got me in too much trouble, I have learned to be aggressive, cancer’s aggressiveness gives me no choice.  I now meet it head on. Bring on the biopsy!

The nurse comes in and said “can you believe I can get you in for the procedure today?” I smiled and thought “yes, God does these things for me.”

As my mom walks me out, I feel a tinge of nervousness.
My last punch biopsy was a horrible experience, because I was not numb enough.  It was the worse pain I have ever experienced, and after this year, and a kidney stone in the past, I know pain.

I had plans to spend the day with my Carma.  We originally planned a trip to Nebraska City Lied Lodge, to spend the day with the sun, our journals and Bibles.  A day of quiet to prepare us for a loud, fun summer full of kids!!  My joke is that I am never planning a trip again. Every time I do, it gets interrupted by cancer’s drama.  I couldn’t believe it was happening again, this has happened at least 5 times in the last 9 months!!  

Carma spent this beautiful, sunny day, sitting in a cold, dark, ultrasound room with me.  I loved being with her, she is always calming and strong.  I know she will fight for me to receive the best care, not that she ever has to at St. Elizabeth…I have been very happy there.  My nightmare biopsy experience was at another hospital.

We walked into St. Elizabeth, and stopped quickly to hug and visit my neighbor and oncology nurse, Jay.  I’ve said it before and I will say it again, HE IS THE BEST.  He is a steady comfort to me, he has made it clear that if I ever need him, he is there.  Literally, right next door.

I got checked in.  
I got another plastic bracelet with my name and birthday to add to my collection.
I got a great idea–I may make an art piece with them when all is said and done.

I was called and taken back to the room, Carma and a few butterflies in my stomach accompanied me.

My technician was sweet and calming.
As I put on another bleach-scented gown, I hear my Carma going to bat for me about the importance of the area getting plenty of lidocaine 🙂 

The Doctor took some time to get to know my story.  He reassured me that I would be numb. I liked him right away.

The node kept playing hide and seek with us.  It showed up so distinct, then would dart away.  Doctor had to chase it around with his long, steel punch instrument, I felt some discomfort, but no pain until the last 2 punches.  Every time he took a punch, the loud click on the instrument made me want to shudder, due to the memories it brought back. I felt like squirming away from him and running for the door, but my job was to stay completely still, so I did, except for the quiver in my stomach. Carma was at my feet and held me in prayer, asking God to hurry up and get it over with.  The last 2 were painful, but nothing compared to the first time.  The first time I shook for over an hour from the trauma of it all.  This one was so much easier! I was drinking a Carmelicious within 10 minutes-I justified the cost and sugar, I thought I “deserved” it after the last 2 days.  Yes, sometimes I pull the cancer card:)

I am now home, typing with an icepack under my arm.  It stings and is sore, but I am so happy it is done. Did I say that God is good?:)  He is.

We will have test results by Monday or Tuesday.
I have no idea what we will do if it is positive.  There will be options to choose from. Surgery and Radiation being some of them.  Honestly, if it is positive, I am contemplating taking all my records to M.D. Anderson, the best of the best cancer care hospital in the U.S. and having their experts advise me.  

One thing the doctor said to me what “Amy, if this is positive, it is not like it is cancer showing up in your liver or bones, which would be a more complicated thing.  This is in an area where we already know there was cancer at one time, so even though it is a nuisance, we deal with it, and don’t expect it to affect the outcome of what we hope your survival time to be. 
 This calmed me and made some sense, but, measurable cancer in my body is not something I want and feels a bit more than just a “nuisance.” At the same time,  I get how many things there are to praise God for, so many things that could be, that are not. I hold on to these things, and will list them out for you all soon, to share with you just how GOOD God has been to me:)

Love to you all.  MUCH, much, love.





22
Cancer Journey/ HEALTH/ Spiritual

The Healing

My hair measures 2 inches, it is
short
spiky
sassy
stubborn.
Very fitting, I’d say.

My 2 week old incisions are small pink lines, its amazing how the body insists on healing.

The bump of my port–gone!
The large lump of lobular carcinoma–gone!
The lumps and bumps of swollen and cancerous lymph nodes–gone!!

I’ve gained a few lumps, the two on my chest I consider a gift—thank-you-very-much, Cancer!
In a few weeks, they will form 2 bumps on lumps.  🙂 Finishing touches.

The few lumps on my ovaries? I could do without, but we will figure that out as we go.

I sit and read a stack of medical records, and I am in awe.
My body has been invaded so many times.
Pokes and prods.
Scopes, scans and scalpel.
Every time it insists on healing.

Pathologists, Radiologist, Oncologist, Radiation Oncologist, Dosimetrist, Radiation Therapist, Physical Therapist, Lab Technitions, General Surgeon, Plastic Surgeon, Gynecologist, Primary Care Doctor, Cancer Nurse Navigator, Survivorship Navigator, Genetic Counselor, Oncology Nurse.

Over the last 9 months, I have learned their names.
They are the key players in my healing, used by the Healer.

They poke,
touch,
scan,
tattoo,
palpatate,
remove my insides,
replace my insides,
put me to sleep,
wake me up,
lay me down,
sit me up,
they look at me with eyes serious
they look at me with eyes encouraging.

I read the notes they have written about this body of mine.
I see their signed names on my papers and I feel a gratitude that is overwhelming.

They speak words that scare,
They speak words that give hope

“Keep healing.  Watch for bumps and lumps.”

With these words I am sent on my way, in search of a new normal.

I’ve started this search already, and have learned that it does not have to be a frantic one.
I’ve learned this as my heart has been healing, too.

My heart feels healed in this moment,
whole and held,
cupped gently
and protected by heavenly hands.

It brings a calm reassurance, a peace.
It allows for the slow and the still, it is a restful confidence.
A deep satisfaction.
I am held, and always will be.

Even through recent scans and test- result waiting,
I felt the steady hold, gently pressing the peace and calm.

This is heart healing.
This is the healing.
I, am healing.

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