A Little Magic

When we tried to schedule my muga, there was nothing open all week at St. Joe's.  The Med was closed.  I really needed that test to be done before the end of this year, so it was on my 2017 deductible.  I've already reapplied for the prescription assistance program that I was on this year for next year, which means that my first dose of treatment could be covered, thus reducing the amount we have to pay out-of-pocket for our 2018 deductible.  If I'm not able to get the test done, I'm not able to take the drug, which means my deductible would end up paying for the test and not saving me money.

However, there is a magician at Dr. Fleener's office.  Jennifer was able--against all odds--to find me a time for my scan this week!  She's a miracle worker!!!

I didn't have much time to worry about it, as the boys are all so, so sick.  So sick that they slept through opening Christmas presents!

With a little magic---and a smile and a wink---I was able to convince the nurse to let us see all three boys at the same time....at the last minute.  They all have the same thing...why not just swab them all at the same time?

We were a sad story, waiting for the doctor and results.  Turns out, we have walking pneumonia, and thankfully, were able to pick up meds STAT.  The pedi mentioned that I might want to call my doctor and let her know what was going on with the boys, in case I also needed to be medicated.  By that time, the Cancer Clinic was already closed, so I had to leave a message with the answering service.

I head over to the pharmacy to wait for the boys' drugs.  Right as I pulled into the parking lot, Dr. Fleener called, having received my message.  After I explained the situation, she agreed to call in a prescription for me, also.
"What pharmacy?"
"Walgreens of Fitch."
"I'm actually SHOPPING at Walgreens on Fitch right now?"
"REALLY?!?  I'm in the parking lot!"
"Come in, and I'll walk back to the pharmacy and 'call in' a prescription for you!"


She's seriously the coolest.  How many doctors would do that?  LOVE HER.

I'm telling you.....between scheduling working out, people in our corner, and a little magic, we're just gonna make it through 2017!

Dr. Fleener, Zomeda, Zoladex

It’s the day after Christmas, and all through my house, everyone’s coughing—the sickness won’t get out. 

I’m off to the doctor, my year-end report. 

Infusion for bone, and a new 3-month shot. 

My ECHO and heart took a downturn this time,

But human error could occur-I still may be fine. 

A MUGA is ordered for a second check-

I’ve met my deductible, so what-the-heck?

Those results will compare with the ones from before to determine the treatments—less or more?

My CT results show no evidence of new disease,

But the spine’s T7 and T8 still have compressive deformities. 

MRI-no evidence of intracranial metastases,

Just some chronic white matter changes, most likely accelerated from radiation therapy. 

On this, Dr. Fleener has a low level of concern. 

The next MRI would be one from which to learn. 

As I reflect on the year and all we’ve gone through,

I’m humbled at blessings and miracles, too. 

May 2017 go down without another fight. 

Happy new year, and may cancer stay out of sight!

H&P #32

My last treatment of 2017 is in the books!  The start of this year brought cancer back, again, but we fought and prayed, and I'm still here....IN REMISSION!  My hair is growing back, and it looks like I'm going to push past that six to twelve months of expected life.  I keep waiting for reality to close in, to hear bad news again, to face the fight once more.  However, we are about to celebrate a new year...an EVEN year.  That has to be good news!

I'm entering the new year with one word:

FAITH

Merry Christmas and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

CT Scan, MRI, ECHO

After enjoying another *delicious* vanilla shake, I spent today in scans. Something about the brain was weighing heavy on me, and dr. F put in orders for STAT reports.

I was sooooooo relieved when her office called to tell me the good news that there are no Metsin my brain!!  I’m still cancer free there!!  (Still waiting on other reports.)

The CT went well, since they could access my port. The MRI was a little more rough, but I’ll take that in exchange for good news. 


It was especially worrisome, after the wreck I had late Saturday night. I was driving in rainy weather. Around a curve, my car started to skid and then locked up. I continued to slide off the road and into a ditch and some trees. Thanks to my overworked, underpaid guardian angels, I walked away without even a scratch or sore muscle. The car? Not so much. 

I sit here, kicking cancer with the kicks my dear friend, Michele, found me for mathematical power!!!  Love times infinity. ❤️

I just cannot give enough thanks for prayers and miracles from heaven!! 

H&P #31 + Appointment with Julie + Mourning a Loss

When I was sixteen, halfway through my junior year of high school, my family and I moved to a new house in a new neighborhood, in the same town.  By that time, my group of friends was pretty established, and I was grateful that I didn't have to change high schools, as there was only one in our city at that time.  We did, however, switch church congregations, attending one right in our neighborhood.  This gave me an opportunity to get to know and make friends with people in the youth group, especially an amazing group of girls.  I wish I would've become even closer friends with these girls, but I was busy working and traveling and left for college a little over a year later.  (This was also before social media, so it wasn't until many years later that we connected again.)

In 2013, when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I got a Facebook message from some of these women.  (It had been 15 years since I'd seen any of them, so it feels weird to call them 'girls.')  One of our mutual friends was also fighting breast cancer, and she also lived in Texas!  I reached out to this fellow survivor and was able to get some advice/answers to questions.  She was on a similar journey as mine, only further down the path than I was.  She even offered to send me the wig she never wore, it being too hot in the Texas summer for her.

We exchanged Christmas cards and kept in touch, but casually.

In 2015, when cancer returned to my bones, she reached out to me for my new address.  By the time a box came in the mail from her, I'd forgotten that she'd even asked for it.  Inside, was a book: Sadaku and the Thousand Paper Cranes, along with a box of 1,000 small paper cranes she had folded in my honor, for a miracle for me.  My entire soul was warmed by this simple, yet powerful gift.  I cried, touched by the time taken from a fellow survivor, one whose heart was kind and loving, one who knew the journey and knew that even though she couldn't do much, hopefully the little she could do was more than enough.  It was!

We kept in touch and followed each other’s progress, scans, and status.  She moved away from Texas, her health intact, and I celebrated with her on her scans with NED (no evidence of disease).  When cancer came back to my brain this year, she commiserated with me on the suckage of cancer.  When I was back in remission—again—she rejoiced, and I knew her prayers had added to the thousands of others to bring about a miracle for my family.

In September, my heart ached when I heard that cancer had come back in her bones.  I hated that she had to start another fight, but knew that cancer was up against a super woman, and told her as much.  I didn’t ask a lot of questions—What’s your treatment plan?  Will you have radiation and chemo?, etc. because she wasn't one to like attention on herself, preferring more to give to others.   I knew I couldn't do much, but did what I could:  had high hopes that she’d conquer and prayed for her and her family.

Then, mid-November, I read a post about her having a port placed, needing to dye her hair and take family pictures before she started chemo and it fell out.  I remembered the exact feeling, all too well.  I saw her post about loving Christmas cards and knew I needed to get going on our own family pictures so I could send her one.

Last night, as I was finally catching up on social media, I saw that my friend had passed away.

And I missed it.  I missed my chance to tell her how much her love and time had meant to me—how much hope it had given me for my future.  I missed sending her another Christmas card.  Between Thanksgiving prep, the boys being out of school, movies, Christmas decorating, and other activities for the week, I had missed knowing that my friend was truly sick.  I had no idea Hospice was called, no idea her time was short, no idea she was gone until after she was gone.

I was sad that I hadn’t truly reached out when her cancer returned, as she had when mine did.  I hated that I underestimated cancer, never imagining it would take her, especially so quickly.  It shocked me that she hadn’t even made it to the two weeks when her hair would fall out.  I had simply assumed that she would soon be in remission, again, just like I had.  I also realized just how amazing and miraculous my story is, how blessed I have been, how lucky I am to still be here.

I wasn't able to tell her before, but I believe life continues beyond the grave, so I'll say it to her now:


Dear Friend:
You have given me hope and strength.  Your humor and honesty on life has inspired me.  Your faith, talents, and endurance have helped drive me forward.  Thank you for pushing me on the path of this journey.  I hate that you’re no longer here to fight, but so grateful that you no longer need to suffer or feel pain.  I have faith that God has a plan.  Our plans are different, but that’s okay.  I pray for your family to have peace and be able to feel of your love and your mothering from the other side.

Love,
Your cancer sister, Mel

RIP, Natalie.  You are loved and missed.

H&P #30...HALLOWEEN!

I love Halloween!

It just so happened that my treatment fell on October 31st, so I used it as an excuse to dress up in my pink princess power suit.  The sight of me brought smiles to some, eye contact avoidance with others, and the comment, "You must be a FUN person!"







I like to think I am a pretty fun person, even when I'm not dressing up for a holiday.  I try to be positive and friendly.  I try to serve others and give back.  I've felt that it's important to stand out and stand up, using my journey through cancer to inspire hope.  This month, I lost a bit of wind from my sails, though.  I sadly found out that some people think my faith isn't inclusive to supporting all women facing a cancer battle and that my story isn't compelling enough because it's not a "happy ending," that my future is unknown.  

I felt pretty defeated after learning these opinions.  Beside my family, my biggest reason for keeping up the fight is to support and inspire others through their similar cancer journey, or though any challenge they might face.  I kept going over and over in my mind why these people couldn't or wouldn't see that.  I kept challenging these opinions, just in my own head.

 "True, I could die of cancer.  But, that doesn't mean my story isn't inspiring!  No one makes it out of this life alive.  We all have a terminal illness.  It's called 'mortality.'  The inspiring part is what you do with the time you're given and how you face the storms and learn to dance in the middle of them!  I fight with faith, perhaps not the same faith that every person does, but finding faith and hope and love in something is what the fight is all about.  Perhaps my story could inspire others to find their own faith."

I questioned if I should give up and quit putting myself out there, stop sharing my faith and hope for the future, no matter how long it may be.  The comments stung.  I took them too personally.  I wanted to fix it, to fight back and defend myself, to make them see.


Soon, I was shown that I just needed to turn the other cheek.  Trying to debate these opinions would get me no where and would sever friendships more than it would satisfy my pride.  However, I don't want anyone to ever feel that they aren't good enough, or that their story doesn't matter, the way I felt for several days this month.


In case no one has tole you:

You are loved and known.  You have a part to play in this world.  There will times when certain people don't believe in you, don't agree with your positions, or don't fully support you.  Those are people who don't quite understand.  Those people are not your tribe.  Find your tribe, and allow them to fight fiercely, right along with you.   With your warriors on your side, it's so much easier to break through the self doubt and hold on to hope.  You always have someone in your corner, so keep on keepin' on.  You are good enough!      





Still kicking cancer's butt!

H&P 29, Appt. with Fleener, 3-month Shot #1

Happy Breast Cancer Awareness Month!  Dr. Fleener wondered if I was a person who celebrated or hated October for that reason.  I celebrate it!  

So much so, that I put a pink glaze in my hair and showed up for treatment in pink, head to toe!  

In my appointment, we basically discussed the change in my Zoladex shots, from once a month to every 3 months.  Side effects could be more pronounced in the first month, but taper down in the next two.  Or, it could not affect my body at all.  We will have to wait and see.   

I have been thinking about miracles lately.  Just last Friday I talked to the my sons about the mini miracle that happened, thanks in part, from their constant prayers for my health.  On Wednesday, I woke up with a sore throat.  Throughout the day, I started to cough and feel worse.  Thursday was worse.  I ended up in bed for most of the day, eating soup, drinking fluids, and pumping up on vitamin C.

For the last few years, about 3 times a year, I get a cough/cold that doesn't quit.  I cough so loudly and deeply at night that I keep Stephen up unless I sleep in another room.  Plus, with my immune system as weak as it is, it usually takes weeks to overcome.  Miraculously, I woke up on Friday feeling well.  No tired aches, and even the cough was gone!

When I think about how little time I might have because of cancer, I worry that my sons may not believe in miracles and answers to their prayers if I'm not healed.  How much more important it is for me to explain to them the miracles of healing that I receive, such as what happened last week.  This amazing blessing could have only happened as an answer to prayer.  When the cough and sore throat began, I just knew I'd be facing weeks of sickness, but it cleared up in 2 days.

Then, this weekend I heard a quote that backed up my thoughts on the gratitude for even small miracles.

The Lord is in the small details of our lives…God’s miracles remind you that He is close, saying, “I am right here."  Think of those times, some daily, when the Lord has acted in your life—and then acted again. Treasure [those] moments...(Ronald A. Rasband).

Finding the daily miracles, the "tender mercies" from above is one way to see the good in hard times. I've tried hard to train myself to be more positive, especially since my terminal cancer tries to suck all of the light out of life.  God does remind me daily, however, that He is close and that he knows me and my family and our needs.  All we need to do is start to recognize them and give thanks for those blessings.  I can only hope that counting these miracles as they happen will help my kids to remember how much God loves our family, even though the big miracle might never come.

That I've made it this far is a miracle.  (I've passed the 6 months from February's 6 months to a year to live.) I know further miracles lie ahead, and look forward to recognizing them.

H&P #28

Living in Seasons


I've heard about different "seasons of life."  This phrase usually refers to a persons' age/life events at various times through mortality.  For me, this phrase has taken on more of a literal meaning, as I have started actually thinking about my life in seasons: those 3-month chunks I have in between happy scan results and the next time I have to be scanned again, when I don't have to think about cancer.

After such great news about cancer-free scans and still being in remission, a great sense of relief comes over me.  I get to take a deep breath and not worry about cancer for a season, hoping that the next 3 months will continue with similar answers.

This hope is why I can go on today with a smile, even while the threat of the next cancer season is always looming.  {Winter is coming....}
I try to remember this advice in all the hard things, as our nation and our world seem to be swept up in various natural disasters and attacks of hate.

"Never lose hope. Storms make people stronger and never last forever.”

                                                              ― Roy T. Bennett

I have hope for today, and the day after that, and for as many days as I'm allowed to stay, knowing that all our days here are only temporary.  I have learned quite well to look for the good in each day, even if it's just that I've been given one more day with those I love.  

“They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.” 

― Tom Bodett

I am blessed to have many "someone's" to love, much still to do, and the hope for more time.  Who knows how many more seasons I have, but I never want to stop hoping for more.  

“Hope is the thing with feathers 

That perches in the soul 

And sings the tune without the words 

And never stops at all.” 

― Emily Dickinson 

Look who got to visit me today!

Continuing to give cancer the boot---with pretty, pink suede shoes!!

*updates on treatment:  

since the Zoladex shot doesn't seem to be doing its job of putting me into full menopause--I started a full period a day after the last one--I'm moving to only having shots once every 3 months, instead of monthly.  Perhaps my body doesn't want to be told what it will do OR when.  (Not surprised, at all.)  

Shot #6 (Right Side) PET Scan, MRI

I read a 300 page novel yesterday.  

I hadn't planned on it, but I had so much *free* time while I waited for medical procedures.  

First, I have my fifth shot.  This one didn't hurt at all!  

Next, I waited to have my port accessed for the PET scan.  

Then, I waited for the radioactive juice to flow through me and had another PET Scan.  

The technicians weren't allowed to remove the port needle, so I went back to my chemo nurses for that.  

Had a little cat nap during the PET.

I was able to get away from the hospital for some lunch, having fasted since the night before for the PET.   Then, I returned to the hospital and waited, and waited, and waited.  FINALLY, 40 minutes late, it was my turn for an MRI.  Without contrast went well.  Then, we had to wait to have my port accessed AGAIN for the scan with contrast.  FINALLY, the tests and procedures for the day were complete, and Ryan was only ten minutes late to his first day of gymnastics, where I watched and waited and finished reading the last 4 chapters.    

The Girls are Four!

Four years ago, I was opening birthday presents in the hospital and waiting to be released after my mastectomy and reconstruction.   This is what I looked like my first day home:

Four years later, the scars are almost completely faded.  

The nipple area before was patched with skin from my abdomen and later formed into a new nipple, completed with areola tattoos.  

The tattoos have faded a bit, so I'm thinking of having them touched up again, but these girls have come a long way!  

Happy 4th!

H&P #27 + Dr. Visit

My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we'll change the world.

        Jack Layton                                      .

There have been days of terrible news over the last few weeks.  The world seems to be so full of hate, darkness, and destruction.  The thought of the society in which my children are growing makes me sad and a little worried.  We do strive to teach our children (and pray over them) to be kind to everyone, to be positive leaders, and to stand up for what's right, but these qualities seem to be less and less prominent in society.  It's getting harder and harder to have hope in the future. 

However, I cannot allow myself to worry for my sons' futures.  I need hope and optimism for my own future WITH them, so I have come to see the changes that come about when we take one day at a time, give gratitude for even small miracles, and blot out fear for future days.  I have no idea how long I will be able to stay on earth, but I don't want to waste any of those moments angry, full of hate, or lost in despair.  

We do change the world by beginning with our own thoughts and deeds toward ourselves and other people.  It sometimes must start with a personal change of heart and/or behaviors--whether to be more loving and kind, driving out fear, and learning to see the glass half full.  Add in a little courage, and we truly make the world a better place, even if just for ourselves and our own families.

Cancer has taught me to try to be less critical of others, as everyone has their own 'hard.'  I have turned into an optimist out of necessity; what good is the fighting if you don't have hope in surviving?  As I have honestly shared my highs and lows throughout this journey, it's been in an effort to help others, to touch hearts, and to build hopes.  I have LOVED hearing from people all over the country (and a few in other parts of the world) who have been touched through my thoughts and experiences.  It's one simple way I've been able to fulfill my own mission on earth, as well as change the world one heart at a time.           

KICKING CANCER TO THE CURB + mermaid leggings, an early bday present from my sister!!!!!

Head Collection

From the beginning of this cancer journey, one of the more fun parts has been the wigs.  I've enjoyed naming each one and using my baldness as a way to get to try out different looks through each new hair style and color.

My sister once asked if it's anything like the movie "Return to Oz," and Princes Mombi.  (For those not familiar with this one, I'm shocked how often movies of the 80's has provided scenes of pure terror for its children.  I'd almost forgotten about this one!)





I guess it can be a little like that, choosing a girl for the day.  Hopefully, it's not nearly as creepy, minus the Powder of Life!

Book Sale!!!!

For a limited time only!!!

My book is now on sale at Amazon for only

$3.45!!!

The link is on the side of my blog.

Anyone who buys the book and leaves a (positive, hopefully) review, COMMENT, and I'll donate money to a local cancer support group!

If you already own the book, why not buy a few for gifts?  

Can you really get much under $5.00 these days?  

Host a book club.  The possibilities go on and on.  

Plus, I am happy to sign your book--if you're not local, we can work something out! 

Happy Reading!!!  

Shot #5--Left Side

This month's shot was just an in and out appointment.  The boys even came along for the "fun."  Another one done and back to enjoying the last few weeks of summer.

Kicking Cancer to the Curb, one week at a time!  

H&P #26

Someone recently told me she loved my wigs.

"How many do you have?," she asked.   

"Several, in many colors."  

"You don't have a bright red one."  

"Oh, but I do!"

Ariel just spends a lot of time under the sea.  

(I realized there haven't been pictures of me in every wig, 

so treatment day was time to change that!) 

I heard a quote this week that has me thinking:

“There are only two ways to live your life.  One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is.” (It's attributed to Albert Einstein, but the interwebs aren't all in agreement on that fact.)

One thing cancer has taught me is to look for the good in everyday.  I am NOT a naturally-born optimist, so this was obviously a lesson I needed.  However, over the last four years on this journey, I have been transformed in more ways than one.   One of the biggest changes I've noticed is my every day outlook.  I try to see the blessings, the tender mercies, the many miracles that have added up to my ability to beat cancer and to dance IN the rain--not just when (or if) the rainbow appears.

And then I realized:

This quote isn't always about the moment.  There are plenty of moments when we don't like where we are or what's happening to us and the only focus that makes sense is to wish things would change---not the good things that are going on at the same time.  I don't like cancer, and I don't think it's a miracle, but miracles haven't ceased in my life.  There have been plenty of days that I am not happy to carry the cancer cloud, but the sky is not all dark.  I will not mislead and act as if my life is sunshine and chocolate all the time, or that I believe that EVERYTHING is a miracle.  The quote is to describe life over the long run.   Do I look for the blessings and the light?  Can I be grateful during difficulties and notice the thousands of tiny miracles that happen, even while life is at its worse?  Do I TRY to do so, even if I don't always succeed?  Then, I am (trying) to live my life "as though everything is [a miracle.]"

It's only through a chain of thousands of miracles that any of us are even here, born healthy.  Then, we leave the hospital, and the fun begins.  I think back to all the times when I actually witnessed that my life has been saved; I can only begin to imagine the total amount of blessings that have been poured out in order for me to have learned all I've learned and accomplished all I've done.  Miracles.

Every so often, huge arrows point out the exact moment something miraculous occurs.  Other than those specific moments of light, it's up to me to open my eyes and see.  It's crucial that I learn to place the spotlight on all that I have and to show my gratitude for blessings that pour out every single day.

Numerous studies have found that gratitude leads to a happier and healthier life, two things I need, especially now.  So, as I strive to live as though everything is a miracle, worthy of my gratitude, I can train my brain and body to feel even more happy through tough times and to be more healthy through them.  Win-Win.

It's not an easy task or something done once and never again.  It's a practice in humility and in training my eyes, mind, and heart to turn to God.  

  

 Continuing to kick cancer to the curb, one step at a time.

It's much easier with help! (Evan at church.)  

Strike Out Cancer

Last night, our local baseball team had their annual Strike Out Cancer night.  I didn't get to go last year because we were out of town, but the stars aligned this year!



I'm sad this isn't advertised better in the community.  It would be fun to get a bunch of Pink Alliance ladies out here, too.

After the bottom of the 4th inning, they invited cancer survivors and their families and friends to do a walk around the bases, in honor of either yourself or your loved one.  During the walk, they announced the names of survivors.

Finally, we released balloons in the many cancer colors for the honorees.  

Another cool thing:  All the Boobers! had their names on the jerseys that were auctioned off!



It was a pleasant, cloudy July evening, where we could support our fellow survivors and hope for a cure.

Goble that Cancer + Hair + Shoes!!!

My doctor appointment interfered with a swim party, so I left early, letting the boys swim, headed to Dr. G, and went straight back to the pool.  

Things seem to be going well.  My MRI looks good from the radiation oncologist's POV, too.  Dr. G checked my breathing, reflexes, and strength.  He didn't know about my bone infarction, but after I explained, he mentioned what a crazy year it's been for me!  

My only question was if Dr. F should schedule my MRI's, or if he wanted his office to do that.  We discussed it would probably be better for Fleener's office to schedule, so that my other tests could be organized the best.  

As the doctor who told me my hair probably wouldn't grow back, he also noticed that, indeed, it IS GROWING BACK!!!  I shaved it all off a few weeks ago.  It started in slowly....

...and then it kept on growing!  It's all nice and gray, but it's growing!  

Oh, yeah.  Big news:  I wore heels to church for the first time since my bone infarction.  It's a red-letter day!!!  

H&P #25

I'm changing things up and having treatment on a Thursday.  (My regular schedule for next week would've put me needing treatment while on vacation.  I had a visit with Dr. Fleener first thing.  She again smiled while discussing the results of my latest MRI--it still looks great!  We talked about my vision issues, which have-thankfully-not been too much of a problem since our last appointment.  

"Maybe I'm just getting old and need some reading glasses!" I said.

"You're not old!" was her response.  

I'll see her again in a few weeks to revisit the pill, as long as my body starts to cooperate!

I met a few new patients in the chemo chair today.  The husband of a woman who was getting her first treatment told me, "Just getting to talk to you and hear your story is such a comfort to us.  Thank you for that."

The COMFORT stood out to me, for in my scripture reading a few weeks ago, I came across a verse that stood out to me like it never before had:

For the Lord God shall COMFORT Zion, 

he will COMFORT all her waste places; 

and he will make her wilderness like Eden, 

and her desert like the garden of the Lord.  

JOY and GLADNESS shall be found therein,

thanksgiving and the voice of MELODY.

                                                           2 Nephi 8:3

Obviously, the "Melody" caught my attention, as if He was speaking straight to me.  I was also touched by the testimony that God comforts us in our "waste places."  Whether that be in sickness, hardship, trials, or temptations.  He doesn't take all the bad out of our lives, but comforts us while we are in our wilderness. He can provide enough comfort that walking through our deserts can seem like a plentiful garden.  God offers protection or help to weather the storm, by strengthening our souls and through people He brings into our lives or even through prayers and kindness of strangers. 

Beyond just the comfort to make it through hard times, we can actually have joy and gladness if we strive to find it.  There is always a reason for thanksgiving, even if it might seem small to others.  Honestly, I'm not one of those people who is truly GLAD for cancer.  I wish it didn't have to define my life.  There might be lessons I've learned through the experience that could have been difficult to learn other ways, but even that doesn't make me happy that I have cancer.  I do have gratitude for remission and in the little things.  I can give thanks to God for each day I have to spend with my family.  And, I have felt joy and gladness over more days than I can count.  It's not as if I dance around, smiling and singing, without a care in the world,  all day, every day.  God's comfort has allowed me to see sunshine in the storm and seek out and find the many blessings I have.  That has helped to notice joy and gladness through the pain.  

Although it looks as if I'll never "beat" cancer in this life, there is still hope.  I hope I'll be healthy enough to raise my boys for many years.  I hope I can be a support to others.  I hope for the strength to accomplish daily tasks.  I hope that I can endure whatever challenges come my way.  Hope opens the way for joy, and everyone deserves to feel it.  

(You heard it from the voice of Melodee.)