My November tradition is typically to post a daily "note of thanks" on Facebook, but this year I couldn't bring myself to do it. Things like, "I'm thankful for mashed potatoes" and "I'm thankful for crisp winter days" have been replaced with, "I'm thankful I'm alive to give my kids hugs and my husband smooches."
I'm thankful my spectacular five-year-old didn't have cancer in March.
I'm thankful my fingernails and hair are growing back.
I'm thankful I will never have to buy another bra. Ever. Again.
It seemed a little melodramatic, honestly, so I just abstained this month from posting anything at all.
Do you also appreciate that irony? This year, el 2012-oh, has been the year in which I have felt sucked in to the violent, overwhelming undertow of thankfulness. Yet how can I possibly express that on Facebook, especially since I have been largely absent from social media this year?
I tell people the way I know God came alongside me this year is that He daily chose ways I couldn't have guessed. When I got the news at the beginning of January that I had breast cancer, I had total peace that God would guide us through this year. Yet the people who loved us so wholly were often not the ones I would have assumed would be there - that includes faraway friends, brand-new baby friendships and people we knew but never guessed would rally around us the way they did.
Even some of the "obvious" people I expected to be there absolutely knocked my socks off with the degree of their devotion to me and my family.
Yet there were also people I just assumed would come alongside us, and they didn't. At first I felt really hurt - sometimes even angry - but then I realized something important. God often doesn't do the obvious or expected. That's what made this year such a miracle.
"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:16 - 18
I have done much rejoicing this year, and boy, have I prayed continually. I have given thanks in all circumstances - and yet I wonder: Should I be thankful for breast cancer?
Very early on in the process, I asked my husband what scared him most about my diagnosis.
"Seeing you hooked up to a bunch of wires and machines," he said simply. "That scares me."
So for my next surgery - my chemo port placement in February - I told him as I was being IV'd up: "You don't need to be here right now. I know this is hard for you to watch."
That sweet man of mine practically rolled his eyes at me. Turns out he was talking about watching me in the final stages of life. He was scared of seeing me hooked up to machines, dying. Because when you are dealing with something like cancer, that's what you think about quite a lot.
So nope. I'm not thankful for the cancer. But I am thankful for friends who I now consider family because I had cancer - for relationships God granted our little family that were deepened because we had to lean on them. I am thankful for realizing just how great "normal" feels because I went through chemo.
In recent weeks, two very dear friends have had heart scares. One texted me the day she went in to the hospital to have her heart shocked that she felt caught off guard, and wished that she had written letters to each of her kids. It made me think back to the breathlessness I felt when I stepped on the cancer train, and the terror of having my life turned upside down.
But it also makes me think about how God has been there for us, every day and in every way. And most of all this year, I'm so thankful for that.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
From the Heart
Whew.
This last week has been a blessed whirlwind. Two trips to Anchorage, bunches of kids at the house, Halloween, helping out at Belle's preschool and then Kate's class, and a last-minute multi-kid sleepover - I have loved it! It is a delight to feel capable of that kind of week and so much more like "me" again. I relish in the increased endurance; it makes me want to do a constant glee-filled jig.
The doc appointments were this week. The breast surgeon was thrilled at my range of motion - she was actually beaming! The appointment with my oncologist was less straight forward. I am currently cancer free - he even used the words "probably cured." But we know there is no cure to cancer, yes? And so my ongoing prayer is that my body will not attempt a same-song-second-verse bit elsewhere in my body, ever.
The oncologist explained that there will be no scans to check for future cancer - I will need to monitor myself for any changes that would warrant a test. Blood work isn't always reliable, he said, and scans often detect noncancerous stuff that wind up being nothing. Unnecessary biopsies cause more harm than good.
(Of course, I have read plenty of cases where brain and lung recurrences have no symptoms but I try not think about that!)
I had hoped to participate in a trial treatment with cancer research powerhouse MD Anderson in Texas. Doctors have discovered the rate of recurrence is sharply decreased in triple negative patients who take what is being called a "vaccine." But alas: My blood work is .04 off the mark to make me eligible.
The same day I received that news I got a package in the mail. Actually, my husband received a package, and I was summoned into the kitchen by three grinning faces standing near a giant bowl of water. Some terrific friends had sent us a care package containing a fun science experiment that made me squeal and the girls giggle. I marvel at God's provision, don't you? What a day to receive something sweetly silly and fun. Other care packages have arrived in recent weeks with the same razor sharp timing.
When I drove up to Anchorage for my appointments, the sky was still dark. John stayed home with Belle and I went by myself (something I wasn't capable of safely doing for chemo appointments). I began to thank God for all the ways He has provided for our family this year - physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, spiritually. I just began to sob. He has taken such terrific care of us this year, largely through beloved peeps, near strangers and everything in-between. I continue to be stunned at the miracle of this.
Kate authored a story a few nights ago: "My Mom's Breast Cancer." Her dad helped her spell some of the words:
My mom had breast cancer. She was scared.
She called the doctor.
The doctor called her in for a check-up.
She came to the doctor, the doctor told her that she was going to have surgery.
She was scared.
At the end she was sore. She had to be taken care of.
And her hair was gone to [sic].
I love mom. It is not the end.
I was scared.
Yea - she is not sick!
The only illustration was of me in a bed. I was sad that fear was so prominently featured in her story - my heart hurts at being the cause of it, even unintentionally - but I rejoice that she was writing about it. This blog has provided me with a place to wrap my head around a lot of stuff, and now here she was, writing from her heart. Is this kid her mother's daughter, or what?!
This last week has been a blessed whirlwind. Two trips to Anchorage, bunches of kids at the house, Halloween, helping out at Belle's preschool and then Kate's class, and a last-minute multi-kid sleepover - I have loved it! It is a delight to feel capable of that kind of week and so much more like "me" again. I relish in the increased endurance; it makes me want to do a constant glee-filled jig.
The doc appointments were this week. The breast surgeon was thrilled at my range of motion - she was actually beaming! The appointment with my oncologist was less straight forward. I am currently cancer free - he even used the words "probably cured." But we know there is no cure to cancer, yes? And so my ongoing prayer is that my body will not attempt a same-song-second-verse bit elsewhere in my body, ever.
The oncologist explained that there will be no scans to check for future cancer - I will need to monitor myself for any changes that would warrant a test. Blood work isn't always reliable, he said, and scans often detect noncancerous stuff that wind up being nothing. Unnecessary biopsies cause more harm than good.
(Of course, I have read plenty of cases where brain and lung recurrences have no symptoms but I try not think about that!)
I had hoped to participate in a trial treatment with cancer research powerhouse MD Anderson in Texas. Doctors have discovered the rate of recurrence is sharply decreased in triple negative patients who take what is being called a "vaccine." But alas: My blood work is .04 off the mark to make me eligible.
The same day I received that news I got a package in the mail. Actually, my husband received a package, and I was summoned into the kitchen by three grinning faces standing near a giant bowl of water. Some terrific friends had sent us a care package containing a fun science experiment that made me squeal and the girls giggle. I marvel at God's provision, don't you? What a day to receive something sweetly silly and fun. Other care packages have arrived in recent weeks with the same razor sharp timing.
When I drove up to Anchorage for my appointments, the sky was still dark. John stayed home with Belle and I went by myself (something I wasn't capable of safely doing for chemo appointments). I began to thank God for all the ways He has provided for our family this year - physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, spiritually. I just began to sob. He has taken such terrific care of us this year, largely through beloved peeps, near strangers and everything in-between. I continue to be stunned at the miracle of this.
Kate authored a story a few nights ago: "My Mom's Breast Cancer." Her dad helped her spell some of the words:
My mom had breast cancer. She was scared.
She called the doctor.
The doctor called her in for a check-up.
She came to the doctor, the doctor told her that she was going to have surgery.
She was scared.
At the end she was sore. She had to be taken care of.
And her hair was gone to [sic].
I love mom. It is not the end.
I was scared.
Yea - she is not sick!
The only illustration was of me in a bed. I was sad that fear was so prominently featured in her story - my heart hurts at being the cause of it, even unintentionally - but I rejoice that she was writing about it. This blog has provided me with a place to wrap my head around a lot of stuff, and now here she was, writing from her heart. Is this kid her mother's daughter, or what?!
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