H&P #17 + appt. with Fleener

Seventeen.  

Seventeen treatments in 2016 + more in 2017.  That's almost perfect for a treatment once every three weeks.  

Today I met with Dr. Fleener.  She asked how things are going.  The phrase "praise Jesus" was offered more than once in response to my answers, that things are going well, mostly status quo.  No diarrhea, no extreme exhaustion, nothing out of the ordinary to report.  

"How's the rash?" she asked.  

"It's gone," I answered.

"Gone?"  

"Yes! Do you want to see?"

"Wow.  All I can see are the scars marking where the rash once was.  Praise Jesus!  Have you been putting cream on it?"

"NO. The only thing I've done differently is take vitamins for skin, hair, and nails, and my skin cleared up."

"Those do have Vitamin E.  As long as it keeps working, I say just keep taking it!  You are my poster-child patient!  I tell people I have a patient who's been on this Herceptin/Perjeta regimen for awhile, and she just keeps going along, doing well.  I'm going to write a book about you someday!!"

I won't come back until January 17th and will make an appointment for my ECHO and PET then, hopefully having met my deductible by then and worked out payments by then.  

The 17th.  of 2017. 

That number keeps jumping out at me.  I usually love celebrating the new year, thinking on the past year's goals and making resolutions for the year ahead.  This year, cancer is making that difficult.

Although 2016 has not been the best year in social events and new stories, it's been a good year for our family.  I've been in remission for the entire year!  We've traveled more and further than perhaps any other year.  My first book was published.  Stephen is the healthiest he's been in a decade.  We've had much joy and happiness.  And, cancer was hardly a blip on the screen.  

But, we're coming up on 2017, another odd-numbered year.  

Perhaps it's a superstitious thing, but the odd years haven't had the best record when it comes to cancer:

2013--1st diagnosis + treatments, surgeries

2014--beat cancer

2015--2nd diagnosis + treatments

2016--in remission

2017--?

As scared as I might be of cancer's return, especially in the next odd-numbered year, all that comes back to mind is:

FEAR NOT.

Fear not, for God is with me.

Fear not, believe only. (see Luke 8:50)

And, the words to a hymn:

Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,

For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.

I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,

Upheld by my righteous, upheld by my righteous,

Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand. 

(see "How Firm a Foundation")

No matter what 2017 brings, I need not fear.  God knows me and will bless me, in every condition, with His eternal, unchangeable love.  

With that testimony, I can move forward with the knowledge that 2017 will be a good year, one in which I can continue stomping out cancer.  

H& P #16

Today, as I work toward a goal to Light the World, I was asked to ponder on and share a favorite scripture.  The first one that came to mind was one that has been a favorite since my high school days.  

And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them. (Ether 12:27)

I began to love this verse even more through a study and discussion in one of my years of seminary.  The teacher knew that most of the students, including myself, were familiar with this passage.  However, he wondered if anyone knew that back story that prompted this response from above.  We skimmed back a few verses and learned.  A prophet lists many great things that were done by faith.  He marvels at the miracles and blessings that come from God.  Then, he worries that the things he writes will not be received because he is not talented at writing.  He fears the mocking of others.

It was the next part that hit home:

And thou hast made us that we could write but little, because of the awkwardness of our hands.  (Ether 12:25).

All of my life I had been mocked because of the birth defect that caused my own hands to have "awkwardness."  There were many tasks made more challenging because of this weakness.  I had often complained in a similar way. 

However, God's answer is simple.  Everyone on earth has weakness.  God blesses us with talents, but he also allows for our individual weak areas.  When life is difficult or a task seems insurmountable, all He asks is that we turn to Him in faith.  When we recognize that we are weak and ask for God's help, it is then we He can make us strong.   

In different seasons of life, we describe the weakness and awkwardness of our experiences, perhaps something like this:

• "God, you've made it that I can sleep but little, because of the newness of my baby."
• "God, I feel that I can teach but little, because of the difficulty of my students."
• "My ability to make it through the day is but little, because of length of each hour.  
• "God, I only feel like surviving but little, because of the length of my battle."

In those low moments, humility is the answer.  Faith is a big part of it, too.  No matter what the awkwardness may be, there is help from on high to overcome, to develop, to become strong enough to endure.  And, when you begin to see that strength, the ways in which the Lord is blessing you and making your "weak things become strong," that is when you see the miracles of life-both the large and the small.  

One such miracle I've notice in my life, (Beside the headaches finally going away!), is one I see in the mirror everyday.  Early on in the treatment of cancer this time around, I began to have a terrible skin reaction.  The doctors and nurses all believed it was an allergic reaction or a side effect from one, or more of, my drugs.  Then, when I completed the hard chemo, we'd hoped the rash would go away, too.  No such luck--they were here to stay and often became worse: large, red, itchy, and sometimes even with whiteheads.  Thankfully, they were mostly contained to my torso, rarely popping up on legs, arms, or face.  Here's a refresher from July 2nd:

I have not changed my drug list.  I continue to receive the same cancer treatments that were causing this unfortunate side effect.  However, the reaction has not been bad in the last few months.  If fact, it's starting to heal!  

(You can still see the traces of my mastectomy and the drain exit points.) 

Whether it's my body building up resistance, the new hair, skin, & nails vitamins I started taking, or God simply helping me to be strong enough to overcome, I'm so grateful for this relief!  My skin, as you can see, is not completely back to normal, but God is slowly and steadily, in a million different ways, making weak things become strong through countless miracles.  

Melodee Cooper is a Texan by birth, a Texas Aggie by choice, the wife of a fellow Aggie because “he loves her more,” and a mother of three boys by a combination of time, modern science, and divine intervention. She has taught both 5th and 6th grade math and science, and is now able to be a stay-at-home mom, an author, an amateur decorator, a crafter, a blogger, and a holiday enthusiast. She is battling Stage 4 cancer while remaining optimistic and grateful for the blessings in her life. Melodee is the co-author of "Suffering & Surviving: Finding Sunshine in the Storm," and hopes to lift others through sharing her experiences and faith.

H&P 15, appt. with Dr. Fleener

I have hesitated to record this on my blog because I didn't want anyone (other than me) to have to carry worry on their shoulders.  However, maybe it's better to get it out there now instead of letting it hit everyone out of nowhere in case it turns into something.  

For almost 3 weeks, I've had headaches that won't completely go away.  In the early stages, Dr. Pepper would help.  In the last 3-4 days, it's gotten much worse, especially when I'm driving or when coming up from picking something off the floor.   It feels like an intense pressure starting on the back of my head and moving up through to the front.  It's like feeling completely lightheaded, but also having a wave of pain.  Headaches with lots of pressure can be scary with stage 4 cancer.  

I talked to Dr. Fleener about it and was instantly reminded why I love her so much.  She just gets it.  She said that she would happily send me for a brain MRI, even if it's just for peace of mind.  However, the symptoms I explained did not put her on high alert for cancer.  It's much more likely that the pressure is related to an infection that I have (most likely laryngitis or sinusitis) than to a tumor.  She prescribed some antibiotics for me to take and monitor the headache over the weekend.  By Monday, if I'm still concerned, she asked me to call and schedule an MRI.  "By no means are you to go through the Thanksgiving holiday worrying about this!," she insisted.  

So, there's that.  

Sadly, it's always lurking in the back of my mind (no pun intended)...this idea, the question of when and where cancer is going to come back.  

Most days, I truly try to live in the moment, to enjoy something, anything, every day.  I strive to take the highs and the lows in stride without worrying too much about what will or will not come the next day.  I'm not saying I've stopped planning for the future.  We still do plenty of that, for what's the point of life if you don't have something to work toward, goals to reach, and an exciting plan as motivation?  

I refuse to let the dark cloud of cancer shade my joy.  Uncertainty and fear will not keep me from experiencing, learning, and seeking the sunshine.  Cancer might come back quickly, or I might live much longer than anyone could expect.  No matter what happens, I will continue to look for the bright spots, giving thanks unto God for all He has blessed me with.  

One of my favorite quotes, one that I display each November in celebration of Thanksgiving tells just why gratitude is so important: 

Every day I need heaven's help.  I need God's love and I need to allow myself to feel that love, even in the difficult moments.  

Life is good even when it's hard, and I will keep on fighting, with heaven helping me move onward.  

These boots are made for kicking cancer to the curb!!

Post-Surgery

After my MRI results showed a meniscus tear and loose cartilage on my left knee, it was FINALLY time for surgery.  This knee has been bothering me with pain--off and on---for years now.  Every time I think I'm going to have it looked at, I get sucked into fighting cancer again.  Not this time.  We were going to do something about it!  

Thankfully, Dr. V. had a cancelectomy on Friday morning, the first case of the day.  Stephen counseled me to get the first case of the day, as that is the ONLY one guaranteed to start on time.  I didn't want to be one of the afternoon cases and go hours and hours without anything to eat or drink.  It also worked out that, but some amazing coincidence, that Stephen was off on Friday.  Also, his brother came into town and SAVED us by getting up with our boys and getting them off to school.  This way, Stephen was able to drive me and stay at the hospital for updates. 

Since I'd already pre-registered, I was back in my room before Stephen parked the car.  I had time to change and watch a little tv while we waited.  The nurse came in and BY ANOTHER AMAZING MIRACLE, she ACTUALLY LISTENED when I told her that I'm a hard stick.  And, what do you know?  She nailed the I.V.!!!  This is truly the greatest blessing of the day.  I HATE I.V.s.  Hate them. Usually, I tell the nurse that I'm a hard stick.  He or she then feels my veins and says something like, "this one is great.  I can get it."  I remind him or her that I AM A HARD STICK, but they don't believe me and go ahead....without numbing medicine....and, what do you know?  MISSES.   For every single procedure I have ever had done that required and I.V., the average is me having 2-3 needle sticks before an I.V. gets started correctly.  But, this nurse listened.  She explained that she's learned the hard way to listen.  Now, she stays away from those "teaser veins," as she calls them, the ones that feel like they're great, but are just teasing you.  She used numbing medicine and got the IV in on the first try....WITHOUT ANY READJUSTMENTS!!!!  And, I didn't feel a thing!  This was an answer to prayers, so thank you to all who prayed for this procedure!  Good came from it before the hard part got started!!!

Anesthesia came in....handpicked by Stephen....we rolled back, I moved over the to OR table....and things went black until I was not wanting to wake up from my amazing nap.  

Dr. V. came to talk to Stephen and gave him this pictures of my knee.  The top left picture is from my medial side.  It looks good.  The other pictures show the meniscus tear, as well as some red/pink on the bones.  This is the bad part.  "She's been dealing with this a long time, hasn't she?," Dr. V asked Stephen.  (He's another example of my high pain tolerance NOT always being a good thing.  Should've taken care of this sooner.)  "This is basically bone on bone, so she's going to need cortisone shots.  When those don't work, a knee replacement."  What I've learned from this?  DO NOT PUT OFF going to the doctor!!!  Perhaps if I had taken care of this before hand, I could've saved more of my knee.  

Physical Therapy then came in to instruct me on using the crutches to walk and go up and down stairs.  They also explained and practiced 6 different exercises that I need to do 2-3 times each day.  It's also important to keep in elevated and iced to keep the swelling down.  

After that, we were home before 11:00, and I was able to rest for most of the afternoon!

I'm hopeful that I'll recover well and have some relief from the pain.  Time will tell, but for now I'm grateful that the surgery went smoothly and for the prayers and great care from all the doctors, nurses, and techs who assisted in this procedure and helped make my experience a good one!

Shipwreck Grill Fundraiser

Twelve hours of fun/work.

Amazing opportunity.

Incredible community Support.

Pink Warriors.

So grateful and honored.  

So many local businesses were in a giving mood.  We ended up with TEN packages to give away at the raffle!!!  (I wish I would've thought ahead of time about having someone there to sell tickets while I was eating or mingling.)  I was also able to use the raffle money to sponsor our local support group in the virtual 5K we are doing, as well as to help with our float for the local Christmas parade.

I loved pulling out some of the pink decor I've collected over the year--the pink pumpkin my Pink Warriors made for me last year, the art I won at last year's Pink Alliance luncheon....so fun!

I was able to give out lots of paper cranes and tell the story of Sadako, while passing on wishes of love and hope!

My picture is in this Beyond Boobs! 2017 calendar!  We sold some at the event.  

At each of the tables, we put these thank-yous, along with a little background on the story.  

I was so glad so many of our friends and co-workers were able to come join us for a fun day.  

With all the generous donations from the 20% of the profits of the restaurant's sales as well as those from our gofundme account, we were almost able to raise enough for our deductible and co-insurance for 2017!!!  Thank you!  Thank you!!!

H&P #14 + Flu Shot

This week has been busy, busy, busy!  My fundraiser at Shipwreck Grill was so much fun and exhausting; I feel like it's taken me a whole week to recover.  Thank you, thank you to everyone who came and who was there in spirit.  We are so grateful for the love and generosity of all of you.  (More pictures to come!)  

This is my second treatment in the month of October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  At this time of year, more people are aware of breast cancer, and therefore more willing to give to the cause, in a similar way that people tend to be more giving and humble during the month of December, thanks to the spirit of Christmas.  Today is the second day this month that someone has donated lunch to the whole clinic, including patients!  It was sandwiches the first time, and today we're having pizza and fruit.  Someone just said, in response to this donation, "See, having cancer's not always bad!"

I'm having knee surgery on Friday!  This knee has been bothering me off and on for over two years, so I'm excited for the possibilities of having some elimination of once that's healed.  At the preregistration yesterday, the nurse couldn't believe I haven't done something about this problem before now.  As I've explained to several people, "Cancer trumps lots of other things."  That's I am ABLE to have surgery on my knee is a blessing--it means that's the most bothersome health issue in my life right now.  

In other news, my hair is growing and almost long enough for a "real" cut.  In playing around with different styles, I even tried some bangs.  I laughed at myself the minute I saw this look in the mirror, for it reminded me of an image from my childhood.  It's as if I just met my long-lost twin sister at a summer camp and had her cut my hair short like hers in order to fool our parents and pull the switch on them!  

That's more like it:  

It's hard to believe we are almost through October.  We're going to turn around and be celebrating a new year! That means I'm coming up on 1 year of NEV. (No evidence of disease.)  Part of me wants to shout that from the rooftops, and part of me is waiting for lightning to strike again.  I've been having some headaches this week, pretty bad headaches that I can feel in the back of my head and in my sinuses.  They go away, and they could just be attributed to hunger, stress, or lack of sleep, but that little, questioning voice inside wonders....is cancer back?  These are some of the little things I now deal with---every pain and ache, is that cancer?  I try to not focus on that line of thinking, but it's not always easy.  

For now, I just keep on putting one foot in front of the other and have faith that things will work out--no matter how they work out--and that God will keep taking care of me and my family.  

MRI Results

Instead of having an "old soul," I'm beginning to think I'm a young soul in an old body.  

My left knee has been bothering me for a couple of years.  I planned on finally having it looked at last year after Stephen healed from his surgery.  However, cancer overshadowed those plans.  

I had a steroid shot in it earlier in the year that actually helped, but has worn off.  Now, the pain has gotten so annoying that another shot isn't going to help....it was time to see a doctor to see about fixing it and not just trying to cover it up.  

I had an MRI on my left knee on Wednesday.  Yesterday, I got the results:

there were pieces of cartilage "floating around" in there.

And, oh yeah:

ARTHRITIS.  

See?  Old Body.

This body keeps getting cancer and now is starting to be bothered with arthritis.  (I also have it in my hips.)

So.....I'll be having arthroscopic surgery on my knee next Friday to clean out the cartilage that probably broke off from some type of little injury and could now be getting caught underneath the joint and causing pain.  There will be two small incisions in my knee: one for a camera and one for the tools.  The incisions won't be the cause of pain; they won't even be large enough to need stitches or staples.  The pain of the surgery will be on the inside, from all the digging around to clear out the cartilage.  

I'll be on crutches for 24-48 hours, not able to drive for a few days, and will need about 6 weeks of recovery, with some physical therapy.  

It's always something.      

H&P #13

Breast Cancer Awareness Month has started off with a bang.

Between being nominated as a recipient of a local fundraiser, hearing my book should be coming out this month, attending the Surviving and Thriving luncheon, and now back at treatment, the month already feels much longer than 4 days.  

Last year, I was invited to attend Pink Alliance's luncheon as a guest of a physician friend who owns a local free-standing ER.  As big donors, the ER had their own table in a prime location.  My second cancer diagnosis was still fresh, so much so that I was called on stage as the survivor with the newest diagnosis.  This year, I was barely able to get tickets, as the even was sold out so quickly, and I had been placed on a waiting list.  I was able to secure tickets for myself and some fellow Boobers! I was surprised when all the breast cancer survivors were asked to stand that less that half of the packed room stood up from their chairs.  Then, when the same invitation for the newest survivors to remain standing was made to this year's crowd, my memories from last year immediately flooded back.  It seems like a lifetime ago, yet still so fresh. 

The biggest piece of advice I took from the inspirational speaker, Texan Kendra Scott, was about failure and hardships.  WE HAVE TO HAVE THEM.  All the failures and struggles of her life have actually been bridges that have prepared her for being ready for what comes next.  She lost her step-father to brain cancer, her first business (The Hat Box--hats for cancer patients and more)  went under, she started peddling jewelry in a tea box, also while carrying her newborn son, was told that a major fashion brand could never come out of Texas, has lost close friends to breast cancer.....all of these have prepared her and pushed her into what she has been able to accomplish so far.  She has an amazing philanthropic philosophy and is doing an amazing program for breast cancer this month.  20% of her sales of specific jewelry will be donated to Breast Cancer Research Foundation, AND a second piece of jewelry will be donated to a breast cancer patient.  She will even be sending hand written notes of love and encouragement to those patients.  (We got to write some at the luncheon!)  Go to her website, HERE, to find out more!  She's spreading the mantras: Hope Matters and "You do good."  (The 3-word phrase her late step-father was able to speak after brain surgery in response to her opening her hat store.)  We can all "do good" with what we have been given.

Who knows how long any of us has here on earth.  I know that time is best spent trying to make a difference in the lives of those around us.  Find the things that you are passionate about and talented in and find a way to "do good."

Treasure the Chests

An awesome local couple, owners of two restaurants in our community, do something quite special for Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  Every Tuesday in October, they hold a fundraiser at each of their restaurants for one recipient, and I WAS CHOSEN AS ONE!!!

My day will be Tuesday, October 18th, at the Shipwreck Grill.  A portion of their total sales for both lunch and dinner will be donated to our family.  I am so touched and grateful for this opportunity, and hope to be able to give back in my own small way.  I'm trying to get together a basket of items to auction off, the proceeds going back to my breast cancer support group!

Another way to help, Shipwreck Grill will be selling these t-shirts, by CC Creations, for $15...the proceeds being donated to Pink Alliance.

I could not be more honored for their opportunity and hope to see lots of loved ones, as well as make some new friends on October 18th!

Don't forget your annual check-ups, as well as self-exams.  My prayer is that one day soon we will not have to worry about this awful disease.  Until then, "Treasure the Chests," and check or get checked often!



**If you are not able to come eat lunch or dinner that day. Go on another Tuesday in October, or consider donating to our family HERE.

H&P #12, Meeting with Fleener

I started out my day today by meeting with Dr. Fleener.  She seemed happy that my PET was "looking great" and that I'm still in remission!  My echo also was also in normal range.  We still can't figure out how to stop the rash/psuedo-acne reaction to chemo, but I found out it's not just me; there's another patient that is also dealing with this, so we are guinea pigs of how to fix it.  It's *so fun* being a subject of a scientific experiment.  

I expressed some concern over weight gain.  

What can I do?  

What could be causing this? 

 Is this a side-effect of all the drugs I'm on?  

Dr. Fleener, bless her, hadn't noticed my weight gain, but when she looked back in my records, she was like, "Whoa!  You've gained 30 lbs. in a year!!!"  Well, *fun for me,* my body's hormones are all out of whack (see below), and that could be contributing to it.  Another possibility, after chemo, my metabolism has probably gone WAY DOWN, like almost non-existent, so just changing my diet won't be enough.  I have to really start exercising in a way that will get my heart rate up enough to help jumpstart my metabolism.  In addition, I still can only eat about 1200 calories a day.  I'm also having my thyroid tested, just in case, as I'm "getting to the age" where that could become a problem.  Dr. Fleener said that she's not going to push me or worry too much about my weight, but "to have the best effect on my body for the future," it's a good idea for me to try to lose as much as possible.  I love her!  

(I went to the OB/GYN yesterday to try to see what's going on with my body.  My cycle is completely out of whack, as in I bleed fairly heavily ALL.THE.TIME.  Dr. J guessed that this is happening because I'm still ovulating, but have gone through chemo and took Tamoxifen, which started to put me into early menopause, but now my body is trying to swing back but can't because my hormones are not balanced.   She said that they usually don't have to worry about this because women who have stage 4 cancer are usually old enough to be done with menopause.  Again, *fun for me!  She did an exam, then sent me for a vaginal ultrasound, to make sure there are no polyps or other problems that could be causing this problem.  Then, she took a sample---OUCH!  It felt like she was swabbing out my entire uterine lining BEFORE she got the sample!  In fact, I sat up afterwards and was immediately light-headed and had to lie back down.  Now, we wait for results.  If they are all negative, we will talk about doing an IUD to try to regulate me.  Let's hope because the cycle is supposed to be about 28 days, not bleeding for 28 days out of every month!)

Then, when I walked back to sign in for treatment, I heard, "Melodee!" and turned around to a huge surprise!  Some of my fellow Boobers! came to surprise me and hang out while I had treatment!!!  How sweet!!!  They also brought muffins and berries and several other snacks! I have missed the last few meetings, so it was nice to get to catch up!!! (Grace, Chris, & Me.....Christy showed up later, and I forgot to take another picture!!!)

-

With the recent commemoration of the 15th anniversary of 9/11, I have seen many inspiring and uplifting quotes.  One that stuck with me was about humankind being above all other creatures for our ability to have compassion and caring for other people, even those we do not know.  We have the natural desire to help others and make a difference, to relate to others, even though our own experiences may vary.  

How true this is with trials.  We all experience different struggles.  Even those who have similar experiences (breast cancer for one) will go through them differently.  Although our individual hardships vary, we all learn universal values, such as faith, patience, compassion, strength, etc., through trials.  In recognizing these values that are strengthened by different tests of life, we begin to feel closer and more unified with each other.  We can relate to our fellow man, but no one can know EXACTLY what hard times were like FOR YOU, as they can only feel how they've felt.  However, learning to have compassion and to mourn with those who mourn makes us better people.  

I'm so grateful that these ladies came by to buoy me up and share and commiserate with me today.  It's so comforting knowing that people understand the ups and downs of this experience and that they are always there to support me in the journey.  The strength from friendships as well as the prayers from loved ones both near and far goes so far in helping me keep on keepin' on.  

Cancer sucks, no matter how you look at it.  But, I consider myself lucky to have been given an opportunity to share the journey, to be an example of faith and perseverance, and to hopefully help others in overcoming and thriving during their own storms!  I have also been given a reason to not take any day or any moment for granted, to recognize the miracles in every day, and to live life to the fullest.  

Kicking cancer, one treatment at a time!  

PET Results

Just got off the phone.


"No evidence of viable disease."



HOORAY!


I can relax for another 3-4 months.

PET Scan and ECHO #3

Today  I had my nine-month scans.  

Last time around was difficult, as I was focused on all that could go wrong and what I would most likely face with another diagnosis.  Stephen ran into Dr. Fleener that day and mentioned my anxiety.  She assured him that they would do everything they needed to do and she would make sure they called as soon as they received the reports.  

Flash forward to this time around.  I didn't have nearly the same difficulties with my emotions.  (Perhaps I'd cried all my tears for the month already.)  I was surprised with some beautiful flowers from my mom and dad, which just made my day that much brighter!

Surprisingly enough, Stephen ran into Dr. Fleener AGAIN!  I'm taking it as a small "tender mercy" that lets me know that I am watched over and cared for, that all the prayers for comfort offered by friends, family, and even those who hardly know me are heard.  

By now, I've mostly figured this scan thing out.  I try to get them both on the same day, so I get it all over with and receive the reports the same day.  I check in early, so the chemo nurses can access my port, and I don't have to experience the pain of IVs.  (Hey, if I've got this port for the rest of my life, I might as well us it to my advantage!  Also, I thought it was funny how the techs in the PET weren't "trained" on how to remove my port needle, so I had to go back to my chemo nurses to have it taken out!)  I remember to bring a book or magazine to read, as I have to sit  for 45 minutes to an hour to let that radioactive isotope "sugar water" infiltrate my body.   Don't forget to wear comfy, warm clothes, as it's freezing in that room and I have to hold my arms above my head for the scan.  Also, there's no point in wearing jewelry only to have to remove it before lying down on the bed of the machine.  Next time, I'll just try to get an earlier appointment.  The earlier I finish the scan, the earlier I can actually eat more than protein and green, leafy veggies + water.  Fruit was calling my name!!!

Someone with the early appointment was 30 minutes late, which pushed my schedule off.  I originally had over an hour between scans to eat lunch, but had to rush with less than 30 minutes by the time I was done.  Yes, I was a few minutes late to check into my ECHO, but it worked out perfectly, as they were also running behind.  I had the same tech for this ECHO as my last one, so he remembered my case and was very kind.

The scans are over for another 3-4 months.  Now, we wait for results.

H&P # 11 + Iron

A few times in the past week, I've been told by friends that they admire me for how I deal with cancer, I inspire them to do better, or I do such a great job of living in the moment and being happy through hard times.  I try, I really do, but I have also promised not to sugar coat this journey,  to be real.

Instead of lots of easy, care-free days in the past week, many times, I've looked a lot more like this:  

It's hard to be happy all the time.  It's hard not to cry.  It's so much easier to allow doubt and frustrations and sadness to creep in, letting emotions spill into tears.  In the last few days, I've cried.  A LOT.  

It could be my meds being off, but it's also school starting, kids growing, Facebook reminding me of baby pictures from four years ago, before cancer was on the radar.  It's seeing old friends and watching their children play with mine, even though they've all grown two years older since we've moved.  It's missing people who aren't in my life now as much as they once were.  Nostalgia brings both tears of joy and sadness, when I remember times past, and wish for that simplicity, that blissful ignorance before cancer, before children, before marriage, before I knew how hard "hard" could be, bound by the choking truth that life, for me, will never be carefree.  It's both pleasure and sadness from fond memories, and fear of not having enough years to make as many more as I feel entitled to.  Pressure that fills up my chest and throat when I try not to lose it at time flying by, not knowing how many more "first days of school" I'll be around for, or how few more my boys will actually want me to take their pictures or walk them into their classes.  It's guilt over all the things--am I doing too much, doing not enough, being to hard/too soft, not saying the right things in fear of saying too many things?  It's feeling all the feels at once and still not understanding what, exactly, I'm feeling or why.  

Yes, there have been many reasons for tears, but they don't stay forever.  I'm angry that I have to deal with cancer.  The hard things are never fun, and much of it doesn't feel fair.  However, I am blessed.  I have more good, happy things, more reasons to smile, and more comforts than many people who have ever lived could ever hope for.  Each night when we share our "bests" and "worsts" from the day, I'm still able to find something wonderful, something that made me smile, something that adds to my happiness.  And, I'm reminded that my happiness is found in the sum of all the things in all the days, not just the number of tears in one day.      

And maybe that's the point in all of this: that we can be happy even during the darkest times.  Even through trials, annoyances, questioning, contention, wars, destruction, fear, toil, danger, and all the bad and hard to be found in the world, it may be said that "never was there a happier time among the people." (Alma 50:23).  Life is hard; it tests you to your limits, but there is always something to make  you smile. 

Stephen and I were talking last night about hardships and happiness.  "You can't base happiness on whether or not things are going well," he reminded me.  "You keep on going, remembering that there will always be hard things.  It will probably be after you're gone that I'll speak up even more."  I responded, "Yeah, and people will come right back and say, 'how'd that work out for you?'" (Meaning, how can he be happy?  He did all the things he thought were right and good, and his wife still got cancer and died.)  Without missing one second, he shot right back, "I'll tell them, 'It worked out amazingly. In the 20 [or however many] short years I had with my wife, I had so much joy and so much happiness, more than many people ever get.  And, I'll continue to have more, looking forward to the day I see her again." 

Then my tears meant something.  I think that might have been the most amazing thing he had ever said.  He is right there by my side, completely understanding that he might have to stand alone, much sooner that he is entitled, but even knowing that, he wouldn't choose anyone else, and he's already preparing to love me beyond anything cancer could try to steal away.  Yes, those were tears of happiness, tears of understanding pure love.    

So, even though there have been lots and lots of tears, I keep on going.   Treatments, side effects, fighting, and the unknown.  Surely, even cancer can't steal happiness if I never let it.  

Guess who came to treatment with me today?

I dropped the ball and didn't remember that he doesn't start preschool until next week.  Then, I figured it might be fun to bring him along, so he can see what goes on when I go to the doctor!  He's a hit.  

Today I'm getting iron, in addition to my regularly scheduled treatment of Herceptin and Perjeta.  When he saw that dark substance in the bad, he asked, "what's that?"  When I told him, "Iron," he responded with a look of shock.  "What?  Iron is real?  Is it going to your heart?  Why do you need it?  It's going to make you strong."  After it had finished dripping, he kept asking, "Are you strong now, Mom?  Let me see your muscles!"   

Now I've had my iron, so I'm strong.....and happy.......yet, still reserving the right to cry and feel for the hard parts of all of this.   

Bucket List

I've had a few articles published lately, and I'm on my way to the next step.  That's right,  I have officially signed and sent a contract for A BOOK!  I've been working on this for most of the year, and it's finally feeling real.  

The book will be about suffering and surviving, overcoming challenges, and what can be learned through tough times.  It features my story, in two parts, along with the stories of several others, combined with commentary on the silver linings found during suffering. 

The initial comments from the publisher are quite positive:

"This is a book everyone should read as literally every family has been touched by this horrible disease.  I really enjoyed the Christian references discussing possible reasons and strength, understanding and perseverance.  This is an incredibly well written book." 

That's not a bad first review!  I'm working with another published author, with an "in," so I'm hoping that helps move things along.  Even so, it will still be months before anything is in print.  Stay tuned!  I will post updates as I know them.  I'm hoping to spread the word, and maybe even pay for my treatments for the next year from the sales!    

I thought for sure if I ever published a book, it would be in the realm of education, but it turns out I have plenty to teach through sharing my experiences with cancer.   It feels great to be knocking down the bucket list!  

H&P #10 + Meeting with Dr. F

Nothing like flying home from vacation and waking up the next morning for cancer treatments!  It was a rough week earlier, as I had some kind of bug, which caused diarrhea, vomiting, and major fatigue.  That was before I came home!  I barely had time to get adjusted to being home before I turned around to drop the boys off and head to the clinic.  By now, I've built up a bit of an immunity to Benadryl, but I succumbed to the tired feeling and slept the entire time I had treatment this week.  (That's why I'm a few days late on writing about it!)

I met with Dr. Fleener this time.  I don't always have a specific appointment with her; I just walk back to the treatment area.  She only needs to see me for specific concerns, or when it's time for more scans. (PET and an ECHO. )  We scheduled both for the first week of September, when all the boys are back in school.  I'm hopeful these will both just be routine, as there does not seem to be any symptoms causing a great deal of concern.  Still, I hate having to hold my breath every three-to-four months, hoping and praying that this is not the time it comes back.  I don't have to start another fight so soon.

For now, I live my life and pause every three weeks for maintenance treatment.  

The hardest part of all of this is just not knowing when cancer is coming back, feeling as if I'm living on a volcano, waiting for it to erupt.  As hard as I try not to, with each major life event, I wonder in the back of my head if it's the last time I'll experience that event.  Is this the last family picture I'll be in?  Is this my last summer vacation?  How many more birthdays or anniversaries or holidays will I make?  Will I have enough time to make enough memories that even my youngest will have great memories of me?  

A few weeks ago, I had one of those moments, when all the emotions of just how much of life I'll be missing out on overtook me.  I try not to dwell on the possibility of dying young, leaving my young family without a wife and a mom, but on that day those thoughts creeped in.  I was driving alone; I don't even remember where.  I just know that I was alone.  I was not necessarily pondering on anything in particular, when some sad thought popped in my head.  Even though I don't remember exactly what, it was probably about a baptism, or wedding, or grand baby I might never see.  

"It's not fair!" my inner voice screamed.  "These are thoughts I shouldn't even need to worry about having!  I don't want to worry about not being there to see so many important things in my kids' lives!"

"You'll see them." another voice whispered back.   

At this point, this answer was as if God was speaking straight to my heart.  

"Even if you're not here, you'll be there." (Meaning, I'll be able to be there for the big--and little--moments, even when I'm not present on earth.  I'll get to see them.)

I had to pull the car over to wipe the tears from my eyes. 

"But, they won't have me here.  I may get to witness those important days as an angel guiding over them, but I can't hold them when they cry, or be here on earth to care for them."

"It will be okay."

"But, how can it be okay?  If I'm not there,  it's not okay?  I can take comfort in being able to be with them in spirit, but it's not fair for them to grow up without a mother!"

"It will be okay."

The tears stopped.  As if some part of me finally accepted it all....REALLY accepted it, that no matter how this all turns out, it really will be okay.      

I don't know how it will all be okay, but it will be okay.  That does not mean it won't be hard, or there won't be things that we all miss out on, or that we wouldn't want life to work out differently in a perfect world.  But, in ways that I can't completely plan out, God will make up the difference.    

So, even though I'm not always happy about cancer or treatments or not being able to do all the things I want to do, it will be okay.  And, when I can accept that whatever happens will be okay, I begin to see that my "okay" is actually quite a lot to be grateful for.

One Year Mark

I remember it all:  The call to come in for results...the thought that Dr. O could just give the papers to Stephen at work; it was a pain for me to get childcare and go all the way to his office to be told the scans found hairline fractures....the urgency in which I was fit into the obviously busy schedule....not going into the normal exam room....Dr. O joining me much quicker than before.  I was prepared to hear ideas of how we would be able to get my pain under control.

"The scans revealed hairline fractures in your back, but they also found something more concerning."  (The awful pit in my stomach and the tears and fears overtaking my emotions and spilling out my eyes.)
"There are metastatic lesions in your spine and other bones."
 (Knowing what it meant, but hoping it wasn't the "C" word.)  "What does this mean?"
"Cancer is back."

 I sent a "call me ASAP" text to Stephen; he called within seconds.  (I never have emergencies.)
I explained that I was at Dr. O's office, getting results.
"I was just at work with him.  Why couldn't he tell me then?"
"My cancer is back."

The world slowed down almost to a stop, as if both of us were fighting for the last breath left on earth.

"I'll be right there."
                                                                 ***********

I still don't believe that Cancer is now my life.  When the darkness fell the first time, I was told, "This will be the worst year of your life, but you'll beat it.  You'll get back to living.  You're a fighter."

I fought.  I beat it.

It came back.

Now, cancer is just part of me.   I'm a survivor, but I'm now faced with a lifetime of fighting.  I will continue to beat cancer every day of my life.  Some days are easy, others are less than perfect, and some I just want to sleep through and wake up from what must be a terrible nightmare.  But, every day that I wake up with good health is a day I continue to fight.  

There are stories of heroes in history that inspire us to reach beyond what we once thought possible.  In some ways, my own little world of fighting cancer has been able to reach out to others. I have found great purpose in this trial.  Cancer is terrible;  I don't wish it on anyone, but I have seen how my example of surviving the storm has given light to others.  My story is your story.  Where I discuss cancer, you can fill in your own cross to carry.  Where I see the light in the darkness, you might learn to seek your own silver linings.

One year ago today, my world changed forever.  I will never have freedom from cancer, but I choose to not be in bondage to the disease.  My fight includes bringing courage and gratitude into a world full of doubt and frustration.  If I can help free others from the burden of their own battles, I will have won.  The difficulty of carrying the weight of cancer on my shoulders becomes lighter as I see how I am strengthened to withstand.  I have hope that cancer won't win, as I only allow it to bring me down when I give up faith and refuse to see the blessings in each moment of every day.