HEALTH

One year ago today, at about this exact time in the late afternoon, I received the call that I had invasive ductal carcinoma. 

Amy Rathbun Bowman

the thunder outside reminds me how big our God is.

Like ·  · 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.

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}