Sun and Storms

The sun is out today!

Many people complain about spring weather.  Where I live, winter is cold and summer is hot.  Spring and fall are when the weather varies the most.  I like variety.  I enjoy a cold, snowy day that gives me an excuse to sit by the fire with my coffee.  I look forward to a sunny spring day when I can be outside working in the garden or going for a walk.  The scorching days of summer give me an excuse to play in the water.  The rainy days of spring give me time to do spring cleaning while I wait for the sun to return.

Yesterday was an extremely windy and rainy day that made today's sun a welcome sight.  The wind and rain beat on the buildings like a madman trying to get inside.  No one was safe from it's grasp.  I appreciate the sun more when it has been gone for awhile.

It has been discovered that the sun, vitamin D, is something that helps MS symptoms.  I tend to feel a little better when the sun is shining or when I spend some time in the sun.  On the first days of spring, when the sun begins to warm everything up I always feel like a flower soaking up it's heat and energy.

I know everyone prefers the sun and the good weather, but if it is always here, we begin to take it for granted. If we didn't survive some storms in between the sunny days, we would begin to take those beautiful days for granted.  If all we had was storms, we would begin to lose hope.

Next time you want to complain about the weather remember that it will soon change.  The special thing about weather is that it is always changing.  Each day brings something new.  Some days offer bigger changes than others, but it is a change, nonetheless.

Without the clouds and rain keeping us in the dark for a bit, we may take the sun for granted and forget what a treat it is to enjoy it's gift.

Pink Story: Friends Help Healing

October 19, 2012

“. . . But you, O Lord are a shield about me; You are my glory, the one who holds my head high . . . I lay down and slept, yet I woke up in safety, for the Lord was watching over me.  I am not afraid of ten thousand enemies who surround me on every side.”

Psalm 3:3, 5

I am protected.

Finally, by the 3rd week in October I was beginning to feel better.  I was still very weak from lack of activity and coughing off and on.  I celebrated sleeping 10 hours straight on October 20th.  It was the first time I had slept through the night in over 4 weeks.  I had an evening with friends to look forward to.  We went to a BSU game.  We also went for some dinner afterward.  I was looking forward to a day with friends.  They are very busy people so I appreciated them putting aside some time for us.  When you are always fighting to feel better, a day with friends can make you believe you might actually be getting better.  I don’t remember spending a lot of time talking about me, which was good.  We just visited, watched a good game and enjoyed being together. I can’t tell you who Boise State played.  I know they won and it was the first time they wore all black uniforms.  The most important part of the day was being with friends.

Smile

I saw a long list of pictures of a friend the yesterday.  Her smile was intoxicating.  The pictures were simple, natural pictures, but they were full of joy.  All the images I've seen of her lately radiate with her joy.

I'm wondering how often the rest of us feel that joy, let alone radiate it.  What makes her smile so big?  What makes her bounce with energy when she walks?  I see her smile and I can feel her joy contagiously trying to get me.

What gives you joy?  What is the thing that makes you radiate that joy to others?  If you can't think of it, why?  Does your family bring you joy?  Does your job bring you joy?

Perhaps the better question is what do you bring joy to?  Who do you share your joy with?

I'm not sure, but I'm guessing that joy is a choice.  We get to choose if we are joyful, if we have peace and contentment.  We get to choose how to think about our lives and our situations.  If we choose joy in the midst of all of life, who will be the recipient of our joyful smile?  Who's day will be made because our joy is so evident that a picture cannot disguise or contain it?

Pink Story: Genetic Test

I finally went in for my genetic test.  I have never had anything like this done before so I had no idea what to expect.  I went by myself because Jason couldn’t take the day off.  It felt like I waited a lot.  I would go to one person, they would take my information and have me wait. The next person would come, then leave, then the next.  Finally, I got to wait in a little room.  Then  I waited for the lady who would take my blood.  Then I could go home and wait for the results.

I had to get genetic testing because I am a 35 year old who should not have breast cancer, my maternal grandmother had breast cancer twice, my great-grandmother had breast cancer and my paternal grandmother had breast cancer.  Even though my mom hadn’t had it, there were enough people in my genetic line to warrant a test.  Everybody has cancer cells.  All a cancer cell is is a cell that is messed up.  Typically when cells begin to degenerate a person’s body fights and kills those cells and all is well.  There is a special gene that fights these.  For breast cancer it is called the BRCA gene.  You want this gene.  When they conduct a genetic test they are looking to see if the gene is missing.  If it is, a person will just keep getting cancer.  If a person is missing this gene they have an 85% risk of getting cancer.

The nice lady who was in the room I got to wait in walked me through all the statistics.  I have a 15% chance of not having the cancer fighting gene.  I have a 15% chance of needing to remove my ovaries and breasts (If the gene is absent, ovarian cancer is extremely likely as well as breast cancer).  But, I have an 85% chance of testing negative.  I have an 85% chance that this cancer is just some fluke thing and it can easily be wiped out.  I have to wait 2 weeks for the results.  In the meantime I am a tree, in the meantime I will hold the 85% chance, remember that statistic and remember that I am in bloom, my leaves shall not fall and my Daddy charts my path.  I have nothing to worry about.

Friends and Bubbles

Friends are precious gems.

I don't get to see most of my precious friends all the time.  When I see them, it is like no time has gone by. I'm thankful for friends that are ever present in my life even if they are not always present.  I think about them often.  I wonder how they are.  I think about how we should get together again, yet I know if we don't see each other right away our relationship will not be affected.

These are the friends that leave a little bit of themselves behind whenever we are together and take a little bit of us with them.  That must be why when we see each other again, we don't notice the time that has passed.

When I think of these friends, I lift up a prayer for them and wish them well.  

Imagine if we could see all the prayers and well-wishes that go up as a result of our thoughts.  What if they were bubbles?  We would see millions of bubbles floating through the atmosphere each day and we would all be encouraged and know that we are loved and cared about and thought about by someone who is a dear friend.  Once we see those thoughtful bubbles, we send up a few of our own.

Next time your dear friend that you haven't seen in a while comes to mind, send up some thoughtful bubbles and perhaps a phone call or message to let them know you care about them.  You'll make their day and the bubbles will keep flying.

Pink Story: A Fruitful Tree

As I waited for news of my genetics test and upcoming surgery, my eyes were not on myself.

“But they delight in the law of the Lord, meditating on it day and night.  They are trees planted along the riverbank, bearing fruit each season.  Their leaves never wither, and they prosper in all they do.  for the Lord watches over the path of the godly.”  

Psalm 1:2-3, 6

Years ago, when I was in high school, I went to a church camp.  I don’t remember when or where.  I only remember what the pastor said.  He preached on Psalm 1.  As he read it he accented the word delight and held it out like he was singing a song.  He talked about being a tree by the river and being faithful, and faithful, and faithful, and faithful and finally being fruitful because it was now the season for fruit.  He talked about being successful in everything we do because the Lord watches over us.  He painted a much better picture than I just did because he was changing his voice all over the place, standing on his chair and accentuating all the important words.  In all my years of going to church and listening to sermons, his is the only one I remember.  I get excited when I hear the words of those verses because they touched me at the time so much and today they still bring comfort.  

My Daddy watches over me and cares for me like no other.  I am planted securely and will always be in bloom.  I am strong because of Him and will not lose my leaves.  All those things may sound funny since I am not a leafy tree planted permanently by a stream, but think about it differently.  Someone who knows and loves me sees me all the time.  He knows what I am going through, he knows my fears, he knows my joys.  He knows what will comfort me and he is the only one with me all the time.  If I feel like I can’t hear Him, I open the Bible and read His words until they speak to me.  He has set me where I am, wherever that may be.  He has given me deep roots in my life and roots in who He is in me so that I will not fall down and no wind or storm can knock me down. He has given me leaves of beauty and potential fruit that won’t wither and die.  Even if I feel naked or weak or feeble, my leaves are a sign of the strength and life I still have.  I can stand firmly by this stream and take it.  I can take whatever comes against me because, ultimately, I am not my own.  I did not make myself strong and I do not have to remain strong.  I am because He is in me.  That all may sound strange.  All I know is that I am not strong enough to take on cancer so every success I have is only because I trust the Father who made me and gives me strength to simply stand each day.

Take Care of You

How often do you listen to yourself?  How often do you give yourself permission to take care of yourself?

There are no rules or expectations except the ones we put on ourselves.  I challenge you to sit back and think about what you do and why you do it.  Think about each action you take, is it because it is expected or is it because it is best for you?

When my girls were little I thought my house always had to be clean and that I always needed to be doing perfect "mom" things.  I was hard on myself for watching television when the bathrooms were dirty.  I was tired and worn out from chasing little girls and making sure they were fed and well taken care of, yet I still didn't think I was doing enough.  I continued this pattern for the first 16 years of my marriage.  I worked then worked more.  I would get tired, then make myself get up and do the adult responsibilities that were waiting, whether I had the energy to do them or not.

Once I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2012 I began listening to myself and paying attention to what my body needed rather than what I thought I should do.  I didn't figure it out right away.  I began figuring it out. Each day I got a little better at it.  I thought I was getting back to my normal self when I got my MS diagnosis.  I had to start over again.  I had to pay attention to the limitations of my body anew.  Two years later, I still work on it.  I still deal with daily decisions that I must make about what I do.  Do I meet the expectations I have made for myself or that I think others have made for me or do I do what I know is best for me and ignore the silent judgement that I feel from those watching?

Daily, I make decisions that are good for me.  I look around at the world and what everyone else is doing.  Then I look at myself and do what is healthiest for me and best for me.  I ignore the unwritten rules.  I ignore the silent expectations.  I do what is healthiest for me.

Slow down and make decisions that are healthy for you rather than what you think others are expecting of you.  It is a process.  It won't happen overnight, but at some point in the day, you did something that you believed was expected.  Next time, do what is best instead.

Pink Story: Remember

Even though my pneumonia diagnosis should have kept me down a few more days I ventured off to school Monday morning after only 4 days of rest.  Due to the difficulty in preparing for a sub and my desire to busy my mind, it was simply easier to go.

This season is a mental battle more than anything else.  There are still questions waiting to be answered and uncertainties about the future.  My faith is strong during this time not because I have power to believe, but because I have power to remember.  I remember all that my Father has done for me.  He has blessed me with a wonderful husband, two special daughters, a nice home, a wonderful job, a family and friends that care for me.  I remember all the ways He has rescued me.  There were so many times in the early years of our marriage that there wasn’t money for food or gas.  We always paid our bills then worked with whatever was left. Most months there was $20 after the bills were paid for food, gas and any other expenses that might surprise us.  Yet, every month we never went hungry.  Our cars didn’t break down and our clothes lasted even after we no longer liked them.   I remember all the times He has fulfilled His word.  His word says that He loves me.  He shows me every day in the little thoughtful things that I know are only Him loving me, phone calls, special moments, and saving me from car accidents.  My entire life is a picture of how my Father has been there through thick and thin.  I am not strong enough to withstand any hard time.  I am not good enough to deserve any good time.  I attribute my every breath to Him and to how faithful He has been throughout my life.  My life is all the evidence I need to know I can count on Him like no other because He has never let me down.  I remember.  I believe and trust because He has proven trustworthy.

Quit

Why do people persevere and refuse to quit when times are tough?  When the list is long and never ending, what makes people keep moving?  What helps them get out of bed knowing that the list will still be long when they return to bed?  What makes them serve and help others?  What makes them kind and generous when they feel overwhelmed and beat down?

I've witnessed some of this perseverance recently.  I've witnessed generosity and kindness from people who had a horrible day.  I've been the recipient of caring and understanding from people who were tired and sad. I've been the benefactor of thoughtfulness and kindness from the weary.  I feel blessed to witness this amazing character.

Why do I keep moving?  Why do I continue to do what I'm supposed to among exhaustion and weariness. I'm tired of doing the right thing, but I keep doing it.  I'm tired of being responsible, but I continue checking tasks off my list.  I'm ready to have a moment when there is nothing I have to do waiting for me.  I'm ready for a moment where the tasks are not waiting for me around the corner.

Thankfully, in the meantime, I will persevere.  I will keep moving even when I don't want to.  I don't know why or how, but I will keep moving.

Pink Story: Wolf

On the front of my next journal was a image of a Yellowstone Wolf.  On this particular day, the wolf inspired me.  Here are my thoughts:

I

The wolf on the front of this book inspires me.  I choose to believe its a female.  Her intense gaze is saying “I am confident, I know where I’m going, you will not get in my way.”  There is nothing that can take her down.  She is aware of her surroundings and conquers them.  Nothing surprises her, nothing changes her determination or her purpose.  

As I venture down this path I desire to be like this wolf.  I will remain in my pack, keep my confidence, keep my purpose and conquer this enemy that is trying to take me down.

Whole Soul

Find the thing that makes your soul whole. Find the task, the hobby or the career that inspires you and defines you. Find the path that reveals your true self.

My youngest daughter is creative beyond measure and finds peace and joy in creating new things. Some of those creations are crafts, some are paintings or drawings. She is at peace and happy when using her creative imagination.

We all need to find that special thing that brings us joy at all times and embrace it. We need to protect it and not let anyone steal our joy because they don't understand.

Be you, be all of you and celebrate your individuality especially if it is unfamiliar to everyone else.

Pink Story: Wonder

October 14, 2012

I don’t wonder why

I wonder who

I am not exempt from this

Who will my life touch?

Who will I bless in this walk?

I don’t wonder if

I wonder how

I know my Daddy heals my diseases

What will that healing look like?

What will it feel like?

I don’t wonder when

I wonder how long

I know this will end one day

How long will it really last?

How much of my life will it try to steal?

I wonder. . .

Will I break? or

Will I stand strong?

Will I make it? or

Will I be victorious?

Will I conquer my mind? or

Will I be a slave to it?

Will I survive? or

Will I shine?

I want to stand strong

I long to be victorious

I strive to conquer my mind

I pray to shine

Family

Everyone has a family.  Some families make us feel more like ourselves than anyone else.  Some families make us feel like strangers wondering where we came from.  Wherever your family belongs on the spectrum, they are still a part of you.

If we take the word "family" away and imagine groups of people instead, the picture becomes more clear. Everyone has a group of people or a person that makes them feel small and worthless.  There is a person that used to know them and treats them the same as they did in days past.  They don't allow any room for growth. There is a person who pretends to know all about you, but doesn't listen or "hear" a word you say.

On the inverse, there is also a group of people or a person who makes you feel like the most amazing version of yourself.  They make you feel successful and happy.  They assure you when you struggle, encourage you when you are down, and love you no matter what.  They know you yet always want to know more.  They don't want to change you, they simply want to be with you.

Everyone knows people that belong in both groups.  Be ever so thankful if the second group involves members of you biological family.  If your family is not in the second group, its ok.  You are still loved and adored by someone.

Pink Story: Faith

My husband and my daughters go to a different school than me.  Their situation was more open.  The girls talked about my cancer with their friends.  Their teachers knew.  My husband talked about it.  It is much simpler to say my wife or my mom has cancer than to say “I” have cancer.  I thought about this fact a lot.  I don’t know why it was such a struggle for me, but it was.  I would see someone I hadn’t seen in a long time.  They would ask how I was and I would say, “fine.”  In my head I would tell myself that they didn’t really want to know.  They were just being polite.  If I answered honestly, suddenly the moment would be awkward and it would feel like I was trying to get sympathy.  I actually told people that it was ok to share about me with each other because I didn’t want to do it.  My husband's school began raising money for us.  They sold pink bracelets and sold pizza for lunch. It was really great of them but a little surreal.  I never imagined I’d be that person.  I’m the person they are having fundraisers for.  I’m the person efforts are devoted to.  They had a pink day where students could wear pink if they paid $1.  The money went to us.  Don’t get me wrong, it was an enormous blessing.  Just as the bills started piling in, the blessings came and kept away the stress, but oh so surreal.  I felt undeserving of this good will, but oh so thankful at the same time.  

I know my Daddy didn’t give me this cancer.  I know He will heal me completely.  I know He is with me and I can rest in Him and trust Him and lean on Him.

Today the weight of it all is heavy.  The duties I have before me are too many.  I am tired and weary.  Today is a more difficult day than the others.  

Perhaps I am carrying too much of this.  Daddy, show me how to let it go.  Show me how to lean on you when my mind tries to take it all in.  show me how to take one step at a time.  

Thank you for being with me and loving me.

That was my journal entry on October 13th, four days after I wrote that I was at peace.  That is my journey.  Some days I was up and okay, some days I felt crushed, but at the end of each day I knew that my Daddy had me and that He would carry me through it all no matter what was going to happen and no matter what kind of day it was.

Persistence

Continuing on when things are tough and it all seems to be pushing against you is persistence.

Persistence is one of my favorite qualities.  I always try to encourage my students to be persistent.  It isn't the fastest or the smartest or the most talented who wins in the end, it is the most persistent.  They kept moving when everything started to hurt.  They kept working when it didn't seem that there was an answer.  They kept trying when it seemed they would never succeed.

The persistent know what it feels like to overcome.  They know that when the worst happens, they will make it in the end.  Persistent people experience the worst of life just as much as other people.  They experience failure, defeat, loss, pain, short-comings and weariness, but they keep going even if only one baby step at a time.  All that experience is simply another reminder that this current set back is only a set back and in the end they will succeed.

In the end they will persist and finish the race and be satisfied.

Pink Story: Sharing Tough News

Its overwhelming to talk to people about all of this and keep them updated.  Its confusing to tell them the "what ifs."  Looking back, I probably didn’t need to tell people every detail.  I could have simply told them the next step or where I was currently.  I would explain to people who asked that they would need to do a genetic test, the results of that would determine what type of surgery I would need.  The results of the test on the cancer after surgery would determine whether I needed radiation or both, radiation and chemotherapy.  There was too much "if this. . . then that,  if that . . . then this."  I think people got overwhelmed when I explained all of it.  The people who weren’t good listeners got confused and thought I was going to the extreme.  

One person, in particular, would regularly talk to other people who had had breast cancer then they would come back to me and say, “so and so didn’t have to do that,” or “so and so said you should be fine if you do this.”  They never heard me explain what was happening and what my doctor recommended. According to them, the friend of theirs, who was a stranger to me, knew more than anybody I was talking to.  Fortunately, that only happened with that one person.  Unfortunately, that one person was close enough that those conversations couldn’t be avoided.  

I was torn, I wanted people to know what was going on so they understood why I might act a little funny, but I also didn’t want to bring anything up.  I didn’t mind talking about things, but I didn’t want to begin the conversation and I would only answer people’s questions.  I didn’t offer up information unless they asked.  I guess that was my way of checking to see if they really wanted to know.  There is no worse feeling than sharing something important and finding out the person you are speaking to didn’t hear a word you said.  I didn’t offer up the information lightly.  The teachers I worked with knew.  I didn’t tell parents or students.  How do you say that?  How do you announce to a room of 3rd graders or even to their parents, "I have cancer?"  Perhaps someone else could.  Most of the families in my class heard about it from others at this point.  Later, they would be told, but not by me.

Change

We all experience change.  Sometimes its that little weather change that drives us back inside to grab the warmer coat or the umbrella.  Sometimes its a seasonal change that causes us to change our patterns or routines for a time, we can't go outside as often as we like or we have a class we need to finish over a few months.  Then there are the long term changes.  These changes cover processes.  Sometimes these processes are leading to larger changes.  My master's class is taking 3 years.  It's leading me to a new level of knowledge and possibly future options.  There are those familiar seasons that children go through as we mark their growth stages.  We can't avoid change.  The only thing we can do is learn to flow with it.

Over my 20 years of marriage, big changes in my husband's and my life have come as a result of discomfort. We knew it was time to move on to something else when we didn't fit anymore.  There wasn't anything wrong with us or with anyone around us, it was just time to move on.

One of my favorite examples came after serving tables at a local restaurant for over 3 1/2 years.  The last few months, I was tired of being treated so poorly.  I was almost 32 and had a 4 year old and a 7 year old. Many nights, the money I made in tips was going to pay the power bill, get some needed groceries or put gas in the car.  I would go to work needing $100 just to make ends meet.  I would walk out the door with $20 and have to decide which things I wouldn't pay for.  I know that I was probably slightly anxious on those days.  Perhaps the people I served sensed it and thought I was being rude.  I wanted to scream at the people who didn't understand that I worked for tips.  I got paid $3.35 an hour.  My wage was dependent on them. I would do my very best, be positive and cheery even though I was terribly shy.  I would try to engage those that wanted to be engaged and leave those alone that wanted to be left alone.  I couldn't always tell which was which.

After 3 years, I started losing my patience for the job.  I was frustrated with diners.  I was tired.  I was tired of being treated like nothing because I served food.  I was tired of being treated like an outcast because of my job.  They didn't know I was a mom with responsibilities and a Bachelor's degree.  I was choosing to do this job instead of teaching so that I could be with my kids.  I got tired of sacrificing my dignity.  The three years prior to this time, I enjoyed my job.  I loved serving and seeing people and it brought me joy.  At the 3 year mark it stopped.

I spoke with a friend about it.  She said I had "lost the grace" for it.  For 3 years, I was given the grace to handle one of the most difficult jobs.  It is emotionally and physically taxing with little financial reward.  You are completely depending on others to graciously support your financial needs.  I didn't have the grace for it anymore.  It was time to move on.  Just a few weeks later, I got a teaching job 5 weeks after the school year started.  The timing was amazing.  Everything changed.  We found a preschool for my youngest.  My oldest went to the school I was teaching at and my husband was ready to stay home.  Shortly after all this, my husband found a new job too.

I didn't think I was ready to go back to teaching and I wouldn't have pursued it unless things got uncomfortable.  When things did get uncomfortable, a way was made for me to change direction.

Thinking back, most major life changing moments, the ones I never dreamed would be a part of my life, happened because the situation wasn't working anymore.  I wasn't appreciated, challenged or didn't have the grace for it anymore.  It was time to move on.

I need to remember that difficulties could be a moment for me to grow as a person or for me to move on to something new.  Either way, I will be better and I will be ok.  I've been through it before and I will make it through it again.  Who knows what amazing things await me on the other side of this difficulty.

Pink Story: Surgeon Visit

On October 11th I went to see the surgeon.  I was excited that I would finally know the next step.  I sat in the surgeon’s office, and before he could tell me what he saw on the MRI he heard the cough I’ve had for the last 2 weeks.  He was going to say that there was a spot on my lung, but then when he heard my hack, he figured I probably had pneumonia.  As shocking as it may sound, I was relieved.  I had been sick since my biopsy on September 26th.  I just thought I couldn’t shake this cold. I had been trying to function as if all was well, when in reality, I was walking around with pneumonia.  I was so relieved that I willingly went home and laid on the couch all weekend.  I was really sick, no sense in trying to muscle through.  I wouldn’t get better if I kept doing what I had been doing.  It was time to rest and get better.

In addition to discovering why I had been hacking up fur balls for the past 2 weeks, the surgeon explained that the biopsied area was ductal carcinoma in situ which means that biologically it can’t spread.  They will remove it and do radiation in case there is more hiding in other ducts.

The doctor informed me there were some other unknowns that needed to be found out.  There is a spot near the spot that showed up on the MRI.  They will remove it, but they won’t know what it is until after the surgery.  If it turns out to be an invasive cancer, I may need chemotherapy.

Because of my age they want to do genetic testing to see if I have the gene that keeps my body from fighting off these bad cells.  If the test comes back negative then all will stay the same.  If it comes back positive my chances of getting cancer again are 80% so they will suggest a bilateral mastectomy.  Those were the facts.  

My prayers following that appointment were that the other spot was non-invasive and that the genetic test would come back negative.  My husband called me his hero.  I felt honored and humbled.  I didn’t feel like I was doing much.  

More Sickness

I spent the weekend caring for my sick family and the cold decided to come after me next.  I tried to keep it away, but it came and got me anyway.

I've talked with others who keep trying to ignore their sickness and go through their days as if nothing is wrong.  It isn't a good idea.  It is a good idea to stop, rest and let your body heal.  I have a lot of other things I need to do and would rather be doing, but sometimes it's time to rest.  Sometimes it's time to slow down and recover.  The world won't end.  In fact, it will keep moving without you.

I did realize that I am good at my job.  Even when I am sick, aching all over with a sore throat and weak, I am still better at my job than some people when they are healthy.

I'm thankful for all the help and support that is surrounding me.  My family is blessed to be so well taken care of when we are down.

Pink Story: Peaceful

Sunday my mom and I kept working.  We made the girls’ costumes.  We sewed the mane on the soon-to-be lion and sewed the round bear ears into pinched lion ears. We sewed straw into the legs of the overalls, sleeves and hat of the scarecrow costume.   We used a hanger and some brown material and made a perfect tail for the lion.  When we were finished we had two wonderful costumes ready for trick-or-treating 25 days early.  I’ve never been that early for Halloween.  Thank goodness my mom is so handy.  We kept working and put together my new closet that evening.  What an eventful and busy weekend.  My mom left the next morning.  I was so thankful she had come and so thankful she stayed as long as she did.

When my mom revealed her heart to me, it helped me to see that the people around me watching me are grieving more than I am.  I suppose its because I have something to do.  I have action I can take.  I have steps to take.  They have to watch and wonder.  At this point the statement, “I have cancer” is not real.  It is difficult to say and even more difficult to believe.  Its about as real as “I am married” the day after the wedding.  Things don’t necessarily feel different, but you think they should.

As the next week came and went I felt peaceful.  At least, that is what my journal said.  I knew I needed to have surgery.  I knew I would be meeting with the surgeon soon.  I knew he would tell me what would happen next.  I didn’t know much more than that so the not knowing made me feel peaceful.  I don’t think I was a peaceful as I told myself during that time.  I remember the heavy burden I carried.  I remember there was a lot of not knowing.  I remember, in a sense, holding my breath for fear that if I relaxed everything would burst.  

But that is not what my journal says.  My journal says, “I’m not scared right now, but I think its because I can’t see.  I’m thankful for this peaceful time when I can process all that’s going on.”  Wow! Its difficult to imagine I felt that way, but I wrote those words many days in a row.  I had time to think about what was happening and reflect and that made me feel peaceful.  I’m thankful I wrote that down or I wouldn’t have believed it.

Sick Sucks

Two members of my family were really sick today.  I'm thankful I know what they want.

They want to lay on the couch and watch TV without anyone making them feel guilty.  They don't want to be aware of all their aches and pains.  They want to fall asleep, if possible.  They want to eat, but don't have the energy to make any food on their own.  They want to be cozy and warm, but not too warm.  They want it to be okay with everyone else that they don't feel well.  They don't want to feel pressure to get better sooner than their bodies will let them because then they feel badly for being sick, and they start trying not to burden others instead of just resting and letting their bodies heal.

It's ok to be sick.  It's ok to not feel well.  It's ok to let others take care of you for a bit.
Rest, it will pass and the next day will be much better.

Pink Story: My Mom

My mom had been waiting for me during this procedure.  I took off my comfy scrubs and went out to join her.  I described the experience as weird.  It doesn't always feel like the medical community takes into account what they are doing to a person.  They are looking for ways to see you and fix you, how it feels and looks to the patient is irrelevant.  Its like we don’t even exist.  We are objects rather than people.  Its good that even though the new fangled machines treat us like objects, the people who run them still know how to treat us like people and make us feel at ease when we don’t.  No one goes in for an MRI for the fun of it.  A person gets an MRI because something is wrong.  A good technician realizes that and puts that person at ease.  I appreciate that about the two ladies in charge of my MRI on this day.

My mom and I were ready for a late breakfast.  My mom had a Starbucks card that my grandma had given her so Grandma bought us some breakfast sandwiches and some coffee.  My mom had never had those sandwiches before.  We had a little bit of shopping to do before going home so we drove towards town to a local thrift store for some finishing touches on Halloween costumes for the girls.

Every year my girls’ school has theme Halloween parties.  The students dress us as a character from a book they are reading together as a school.  This year it was Wizard of Oz.  My youngest decided to be the lion.  She had a bear costume from last year that we could turn into a lion costume.  My oldest daughter decided to be the scarecrow.  Fortunately, I had remembered to tell my mom about these things before she came.  If we need something, she usually has it.  Over the years my mom has collected a number of items that she thinks she might be able to use.  She can make anything out of anything.  She has a gift for the creative.  She can see treasure in trash and potential in the over-used.  We know where my youngest collector gets it.  Her gift was an asset growing up with little money.  She is often making gifts and practical items for everyone.  She could start her own craft store with all the supplies she has.  I appreciate that about her and am thankful for her resourcefulness.  Some people don’t understand.  I grew up with her gifts, they are some of what makes her my mom.  She had material for a mane and tail for the lion.  She had straw and patches for the scarecrow.  I had the overalls.  We just needed a hat and a shirt to finish the scarecrow costume.  We found both at the thrift store.  It cost just a few dollars.  Since we were there I looked at some other clothes.  I found 2 wonderful skirts for school.  I love buying things at the thrift store.  I don’t have to love them because they are so cheap and there are many more styles to choose from than at the other stores.  

I had 3 large bins full of material and books that needed a home in my new office.  I wanted a closet so my mom and I went to Home Depot and found a utility closet that was all white.  It had two large doors and shelving inside.  I had seen something like it at someone else’s house and thought it would be perfect for my room.  I had some money and my mom gave me my birthday money so I could get it.  

While we were out my mom purchased a CD she had been wanting.  She played a song for me on the way home that spoke words for her that she was having trouble speaking.  The song essentially said, “I will love you through it.”  I can’t take it away, I can’t make it better, I can’t fix it, but I will love you through it.  She was saying that to me.  It was the first glimpse I had of what this was doing to her.  I wasn’t thinking about what it would be like to have a young daughter get breast cancer and have to watch her go through it.  She had just traveled this path with my grandma the year before.  She never dreamed she would watch me go through it.  She couldn’t do anything, only be there.  She had to imagine what I was going through.  She had to watch me be tired and in pain.  She had to hear how I kept going to work and didn’t tell people what was going on.  She had to wonder how I was getting up in the morning.  She had to wonder if I would be ok.  This is not something a parent imagines having to go through.  Yet here she was.  She did good.  She just loved me.  That’s all anyone can do when the person you love is embarking on a difficult journey.  You can’t take the journey for them and you can rarely make it easier, but you can love them through it.  I am ever thankful for my mom.  

I Work for My Health

My health is a priority.  If I don't do everything I can to remain healthy, I feel miserable.

Let me explain, I avoid gluten.  It causes my stomach to tie up in knots that make me curl in a fetal position in pain.  I eat balanced meals.  I can't skip meals or my energy wanes like the tide preparing for a tsunami.  If I eat the wrong things, I act like a car with the wrong type of gas.

I must get enough sleep.  When allowed, my body wants to sleep 9 hours.  It didn't used to need that much sleep, I used to sleep 7 hours easily and naturally.  If I consistently get less than 7 hours, I start to feel parts of my body giving out on me.  Not only can lack of sleep cause me to get sick, but it keeps me from functioning fully.

I must exercise.  I don't want to exercise.  I never wake up and get excited about pushing my body to the limits.  I never get excited about any sort of work out, but I obediently go to the gym (we call it a box).  If I go, I do the work.  If I go, I will do things that make my body stronger and more capable.  If I go, I will do things I never imagined I would do, but if I stay home, I will sit.  I will rest, I will become unhealthy.

My health is like a kitten sitting on a teeter totter over an active volcano.  The slightest error or imbalance and nothing works and everything hurts.

I'm still learning how to make decisions for my health and ignore the people that think I'm silly for putting my health above what they think I should do.

Imagine a world where everyone put their health first.  Imagine a world where we put each other's health first.  We wouldn't force people to work crazy hours or to have such a long list of things to do that it can't be accomplished in a reasonable amount of time.  We wouldn't expect people to check emails or phones every few minutes.  We would encourage people to take care of themselves and to take care of their families.

Until we encourage each other to do these things, we should remember to do what we can to take care of ourselves.  We should put our own health, our own sanity above the distractions that try to suck us into their craziness.

It's ok to take care of you.

Pink Story: First MRI

The next day, Saturday, October 6th, I had an MRI scheduled.  They wanted to scan and make sure there wasn’t something else that the mammogram had missed and they wanted to check the location again.  I had never had an MRI before and, again, I had no idea what to expect.  My mom went with me while my husband and girls stayed home.  I checked in at the hospital where the MRI station was.  They walked me back to another area where I checked in again.  They showed me down the hall and into an area where I would change.  I wore scrubs for the first time.  I would have loved to take those home.  They were the most comfortable clothes I have ever worn.  They showed me to a small room filled with medical supplies.  I sat in a chair in my awesome scrubs and waited for another person.  She came in and gave me an IV that they would use to inject me with dye later.  I had some cough drops with me to reduce my incessant coughing so I sucked on them and let my eyes wander around the room.  There were different sized needles, gloves, plastic bins with labels, and much more.  I usually use these waiting sessions to check my vision.  I try to read small things from across the room to see if I still have amazing vision.  Unfortunately, my phonics skills are impeccably good from teaching young children that I can figure out a word from only a few letters, so I’m not really testing my vision.  I’m testing my ability to decode words in a sentence.  I still do it, its an interesting way to pass the time.  I was very tired and would have loved to lie down and go to sleep.  It felt like I waited in that room forever.  When they finally finished with the person ahead of me, they rescued me from my boredom.

It was my turn.  They took me to a large room where I took my shoes off.  They showed me to the bed of the machine where I would lay on my stomach with my head in a concave support similar to what they have on massage tables although I knew this wouldn’t be as nice as that.  When I opened my eyes there was a reflecting glass in front of me so I could see the technicians in the other room through the window.  My breasts were nestled into concave grooves so that they could get a good picture.  The ladies explained that I would hear a humming noise from the MRI machine and a ticking noise.  I needed to lie very still and breathe normally.  Don’t forget, I have been sick. My lack of voice had resulted in the hacking cough that often concludes my illnesses.  I had to lie there for 45 minutes and not cough.  Fortunately, I was on my stomach, if I had been on my back it would have been a much more difficult task.  The lady informed me that if I move during the session, everything would be ruined and I would have to come back another day to do it again.  Now that I was thoroughly terrified of ruining the test, I was sure to not cough.  

The ladies left me to hide behind the safety of the thick door and the window while I lay on my stomach waiting for the machine to start.  Fortunately, this bed wasn’t as uncomfortable as the biopsy table.  The bed slid back into the MRI machine.  I’ve heard horror stories about MRIs and how people feel claustrophobic.  I might have had that sense if I could have seen.  My eyes could only see the little window below my eyes so the knowledge of how much space was above my head was not for me to know.  The machine made its noise.  I had earplugs in so I don’t really know how loud it was.  I laid very still.  I didn’t cough.  The machine worked its magic for about 30 minutes.  I laid still and didn’t cough.  Every once in a while there was a pause as the machine adjusted and the technician told me I could cough if I needed to.  It was nice to know there were breaks, but I did ok.    It finally came time for the dye.  They began injecting the dye into my body through the IV.  The machine spent another 15 minutes taking pictures.  The machine watched the dye move through me.  Then it was over.  The bed moved out from the machine.  The technician came to help me get up.  I sat on the bed for a second to regain my balance.  During the different photography sessions the ladies would come in to adjust something.  I got very familiar with their shoes.  I could see the ladies talking behind the glass. They could have been talking small talk or talking about me.  I didn’t know.  I didn’t feel well and all these new experiences were not what I thought I would be doing this fall. It never mattered to me that many people go through these things.  I hadn’t gone through them before and I hadn’t planned on going through them either.  

Road

I often compared my journey through breast cancer like being forced onto a road I didn't plan on taking and traveling through a town I never wanted to visit.

Life is a road.  We can't always choose our path.  We are often forced on and off roads throughout our lives. What will we choose to do about these roads?  Will we constantly look in the rear view mirror wishing for what is past?  Will we be continuously looking around the corner, scared for what is next?  Will we be sad about where we are and quit while the world passes us by?

I never would have chosen the roads I have traveled, but I have made the best of them.  I have checked out the scenery, learned from my mistakes and let the journey be.  I haven't fought it, though at times I've wondered how I can keep going.  It is a journey.  The more I might complain, the longer it will be.  I might as well settle in and let life wash over me.

Today I am tired, but I'll keep walking down this road knowing that the tired will go away and something great will always make it's way to me.

Pink Story: Pink Room Too

Friday morning with my mom was a treasure.  My husband and my girls went to school while my mom and I had the day to spend together.  I still wasn’t feeling that great, but I was determined to enjoy my mom.  In the morning, we sat and had coffee together.  We visited about the recent events.  I thought her timing for her trip had been perfect.  She planned this trip over a month ago.  It was just lucky timing that it fell the weekend after my diagnosis.  My mom brought a few items she had been working on with her.  She had re-finished an old dresser that my grandma purchased over 60 years ago and painted it my youngest daughter's favorite turquoise/sea blue.  Unfortunately, in order to get the dresser into her room we would have to clean it, not the dresser, the room.  My daughter is a wonderful, full of energy and life, but she saves everything just in case she might need it.  She treasures every piece of trash as future art.  My mom understood, she does the same thing.  With all that treasure, we were going to have to dig to find the floor.  We spent at least 3 hours cleaning her room, hanging up clothes, throwing away 5 garbage bags of trash and preparing it for her new dresser.  I still didn’t feel well, so I gave about 30% and did all the sitting jobs.  She also brought a mirror for my oldest daughter.  She had painted the wood frame pink.  We rearranged a few items on her walls so we could hang it.

She brought me a desk she had re-finished for my office/sewing room downstairs.  When we had our basement finished, we intended to use the two rooms down there as rooms for our hobby things.  My husband would get one and I would get one.  It was a dream come true, a room for my sewing and a place to do bills and write without cluttering up the rest of the house, but I had no furniture in it.  My mom brought me a desk chair, a desk, some pictures she painted, a cork board and a lamp.  Everything was pink and sage green.  The chair has a light pink cushion with dragonflies with sage green wings and dark pink ladybugs on it.  All things I love.  I love dragon flies.  I’m not sure why.  I think its their name and their beauty.  Its like they are trying to be a butterfly with their pretty colors, but there are ferocious like a dragon, yet ordinary like a fly.  I know none of these things are scientific about a dragonfly, but its how I think of them.  The cork board and pictures were both bright pink.  Looking at my room now after a year has gone by and I have added a few more items, it is the pinkest room I have ever had.  It is not little girl pink, it is quite adult.  I have bright colors mixed in, but most things have a pink hue to them.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but now it is full of breast cancer reminders.  They are not bad, simply reminders of a season.

"Fine"

Why do we answer "fine" so often when asked how we are?  Why does the person who asked let us answer with such a nondescript response?

Fine doesn't mean anything.  Fine is the equivalent to "I'll give you an answer, but I don't really want to tell you how I am."  When I answer that I'm fine, I think, "I'm not really fine, but I don't know that you want to hear how I really am so this will do."

What do we do?  How do we become real with others and let them be real with us?  How do we set ourselves aside and care deeply about another's day?

I don't know the answer to those questions, but I have some thoughts.

 What would happen if we asked our neighbor how they were then heard their answer and didn't let them answer "fine."  Perhaps we could ask them to tell us more, they might believe we care and we wouldn't simply pass each other by pretending to be fine.

How many "fine" days could we improve by pausing just a bit?

Pink Story: Secret

In case I forgot to tell you, I was sick.  It started the day after the biopsy and, until the day I got the news, I thought I was getting better.  October 2nd came and with it a 13 hour day.  Seven of those hours would be spent teaching.  Four of the hours would be spent talking to parents.  Within the first hour of parent conversations I was losing my voice.  Historically, when I start losing my voice it is a sign of improvement.  Its like the last straw.  I didn’t think anything of it.  I conferenced with the parents of 28 students.  I told them the good and bad of their child's academics.  I smiled, I gave advice.  I never let them know that I just found out I had cancer.  I didn’t give them a hint, I didn’t even act like anything was wrong.  You may think this is amazing.  You may think that you would have been screaming it from the rooftops.  I’m not so sure.  It is not that simple to give people that news.  It feels really personal and it feels like you might become one of those downer people.  An old friend sees you and smiles.  They say, “Hi, how are you?” with their great to see you face.  For a moment you want to say,  “I’m good, I have breast cancer.”  Then you hear what that will sound like.  In your mind you see their face fall into a frown, you see that in your honesty you have put a huge damper on their day and essentially placed duct tape over their mouth.  They will probably ignore you the rest of the day, feel sorry for you and make you feel more alone than if you had kept your secret.  So, you keep your secret, at least that is what I did. I rarely told people with whom I didn’t already have an amazing daily relationship with what was going on.  It was the first time in my life I wished the gossip tree was working better.  People weren’t talking about me and they were forcing me to talk about myself.  I failed them.  I kept my secret.  I kept teaching as if nothing was wrong.  I would smile and greet people as if it was still the beginning of September before all of this began. I finished two 13 hour days of teaching and conferences while holding my breath, straining my voice, and keeping my secret.  Thursday night came.  The last conference went home and so did I.  

Thankfully, my mom drove in on Thursday night.  We were both tired from our long days: my conferences, her drive.  We went to bed at decent hours looking forward to our weekend together. Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Here was someone from whom I didn't have to keep my secret.

Play

A few months after my final radiation treatment, I took my daughters back to the town where I grew up to visit my family.  We got into town too early to meet up with family.  We were on spring break, but they were still at work.  We went to a nearby park full of green grass dotted with tall old trees that two people could hid behind.  Even though my radiation had been complete for over a month, I still felt the effects of those treatments and still felt weak and tired much of the time.

At the park, I put on my tennis shoes and played tag and hide-and-go-seek with my girls.  At the time they were 8 and 11 years old.  We laughed, ran, tagged each other, hid behind old trees and fell on the ground enjoying the spring day. Today, my girls still remember that day.  They played their mom. 

One day last fall I played a different version of tag with my students.  They were thrilled to see their teacher running and trying to tag other students.  I became very cool that day.

Today, I went out to recess with my students again and ended up playing a little soccer.  I'm not very good, but I can kick the ball far.  They were impressed.  They squealed, "You are the coolest teacher!"

My girls and my students enjoyed and still remember those days because I, as an adult, played with them.  I put aside all those horrible adult things that they see grown-ups doing: giving orders, correcting, being serious, being still . . . and I ran and played.  I didn't play because I was really good and wanted to show off. I played to have fun and to make mistakes just like them.

It is a great stress reliever to play.  Being outside or taking a walk are all great things, but play is different. Chasing a ball, running from whoever is "it," hiding in a corner knowing they'll never find you are some of the best and most memorable times in my life.

Play doesn't cost any money or require you to be in a special place.  The only thing it costs is your time, but it will pay you back with joy and peace and moments that no one can take from you.  

Pink Story: Not Real

I walked into the house with a heaviness. I had to tell my husband what Jill, my advocate, had said.  I’m so glad I wrote it all down.  Telling him was more like sharing notes from a meeting than giving him the information I was actually giving him.  

I was okay.  It definitely didn’t seem real.  This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me.  I am very healthy.  Of all of my family, I am the one without the health issues.  I always mark “no” on the long list of medical problems they ask about on the forms.  I never have questions or concerns for the doctor.  I knew my amazing health wouldn’t last forever, but I didn’t expect it to change at 35. It was surreal.  

I would tell people that this information came as a shock.  One person actually pointed out it would be a shock no matter when it happened.  She didn’t understand.  I figured at 60-something I might have an issue or two.  Nothing was supposed to happen at 35.  I am a doctor’s dream, this didn’t fit.  Even now, 4 years later, I am still extremely healthy except for the two boxes I have to check.

Sometimes, during these days after my diagnosis, I would wonder if there was a conspiracy.  Did the doctors really see what they said they saw?  Maybe they were just making all this up to support their businesses.  In the early days I was okay.  In the early days I moved forward like a determined horse leading his carriage.  My master was kind enough to put blinders on so I only had to see what was in front of me.  The carriage I was pulling was heavy because it carried 4 people that belonged on Biggest Loser (they weren’t real people, just representing the weight I carried).  The only thing I could do was focus on my next step.  I knew I might have a day when I broke and wanted to fling those people out of the carriage and let them walk on their own, God knows they needed the exercise.  I knew I wouldn’t do that to them, but I might want to.  Today was not that day.  Today I was okay.  Today I would put one foot in front of the other and finish the journey.

Today

After I talked about the "What if" world, I was thinking about why I flee so fast from that place like bees are chasing me and I'm covered with honey.

My chances of getting breast cancer again are statistically high and get higher every year.  My grandma got her first breast cancer diagnosis at 62 and her second at 84.  I have no idea when my brain will betray me and I will have another relapse.  I'm only 40, I have plenty of years left for these things to try to come after me again.  If I visited the "What if" world, I would be a wreck.

Instead, I enjoy my achievements and my moments.

I enjoy the fact that I can do my job and I'm good at it. Even on my bad days, I'm better than some on their good days.  I celebrate my ability to move.  I can run, lift weights and move myself wherever I need to go. The stairs don't stop me, the long hike doesn't stop me. My husband and I went hiking in Ireland.  I saw others around us get weary after a short trek up the hill; we were at the end of our 3 hour hike and still weren't worn out.  We finally had to quit because we were hungry, not weary.  I'm finishing my master's degree.  I'm still a good mom and wife, probably better than I used to be because I have a healthy perspective.

I am capable of just about anything right now.  My health doesn't stop me. I go slower sometimes, but a little slow moving is probably good for everyone.  One day my health may stop me from doing what I want, and visiting that thought is terrifying.  I have no power over the future, but I have power over today.  I can choose to live and be and grow today.  When I make those choices, I will have no regrets if tomorrow brings sad surprises.