Awareness

It's breast cancer awareness month.

Does anyone else think it's hugely ironic that I just wrote that sentence?

It's probably no surprise that I am a bit bemused when Safeway checkers ask me if I want to "round up" for breast cancer research. I feel a strong urge to say two completely conflicting statements: 1) "Yes, make my contribution $1,000. That's nothing if that's all that's needed to spare anyone else this crap." and 2) "No thanks. I feel like I have already donated my vanity and fearlessness toward my own health. I think I'm good."

I keep thinking: Please - I don't want to be any more "aware." I want to be back in la-la land, when I didn't know how to pronounce adriamycin, or know precisely what it feels like to lose finger and toenails in whole sets. Or being ignorant of what it's like to get obsessed every couple of weeks about a recurrence of breast cancer and squander two hours reading worst-case scenario stuff on the internet.

Yes. I think I've had enough awareness. And I didn't even have to pray for "humility" or "patience" to get it!

Yet, I also realize that if this process wasn't happening (I still think of it in the active tense and probably always will), I wouldn't have had the extreme blessing of seeing God's daily provision, up close and personal. I did not use to be a person prone to a lot of emotion - I'm still not - but there have been many times where tears of thankfulness have soaked my cheeks in salty wet. I am in awe at how God has cared for us so perfectly this year in ways that I could not have guessed.

"And the very hairs on your head are all numbered."  Matthew 10:30

A dear friend sent me this Bible verse a few weeks ago as sweet encouragement. Because surprise! I have ditched the head coverings. It was probably a little too early (I got a few gaping stares from kids the first couple of weeks and even a couple of "What happened to your hair?"), but today my neighbor told me: "Wow! Your hair is finally long enough so it looks like a haircut someone would actually get!"

Thanks. I think.

It has also been almost six weeks since ditching my boobs. I was wondering how I would feel about not having anything up front since I knew early on that I did not want reconstruction (More surgeries? No thank you). Besides unthinkingly still reaching for a bra each day, I am pleased to report that I view their absence as a glorious thing. A few days ago I found myself whispering in the shower, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." I thank God that the cancer was caught early, allowing me the ability to have a surgery that increases my chances and hope for a life with no cancer.

When am I done with cancer?

It has been almost a month since my bilateral mastectomy, and I revel daily in a life that includes healing fingernails, increased upper body mobility and visible eyelashes and eyebrows. Wonderfully missing are weekly blood draws and all that great chemo stuff.

My next doctor appointments are at the end of this month. I will be seeing my surgeon so she can check my post-mastectomy mobility; currently, I am still working on fully extending my arms upward. The surgical drains were removed shortly after my last blog post. They had malfunctioned a bit, so I had to go in for three office visits to get fluid aspirated from my chest. Thankfully that process is done!

Earlier this week on a crisp, sunny autumn afternoon, the girls and I went to the playground after school. Kate was headed up a grassy hill when she turned and asked, "Mom - when are you done with breast cancer?"

I told her that I was all done with my chemo treatments and surgery - so that meant we were finished with it. What she was really wondering, it turned out, was when my hair was going to look like it did pre-chemo. I told her: About a year.

However, I felt like I had just told my little girl a lie. When she asked when I would be done with cancer, a clear voice whispered in my head, "Never."

I wondered: Had I heard the voice of discouragement or reality? Because of this breast cancer, it has turned my "normal" life upside down. Although I am "cancer free" at this point, I have made some daily lifestyle changes to give me the best chance of keeping that junk gone. I strongly believe that God has an ongoing purpose for this cancer. If it's His desire, I will walk that road of treatment and physical havoc again but I desperately hope not.

Hear my cry, Lord: I pray that I am done with cancer and You would allow me to live a life that doesn't include it again. I trust You and have peace that You have got this covered no matter what.

My heart prays that prayer often and I take comfort knowing that fretting is futile, anyways.

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34

However, my faith in God also doesn't mean that I am eating Ho-Hos and hanging out on the couch well into the wee hours of the morning. I've made some changes to help keep me physically strong.

The first is regular exercise - real make-time-for-it exercise (not let's-take-a-walk-to-the-mailbox-and-call-it-good kind of stuff). In preparation for my surgery last month, I was walking several miles each week. I relished in the resulting increased stamina! Once I am healed up, I plan to resume those terrific walks.

My diet is also a lot different. My pre-cancer noshing was pretty doggone good ... if you only counted dinner. I was notorious for eating toast for breakfast and then drinking coffee for the rest of the day. Now I eat oatmeal with fruit every morning and have an actual lunch.

The third big change is adequate rest at night. I was also infamous for dropping into bed at midnight so I could have my post-kid quiet time.

These are healthy changes and I make them with gladness. I wish that they didn't remind me daily that I am fighting against a recurrence of cancer, but on the other hand, I am alive and our family is looking ahead with hope. Powerful blessings indeed.