As I'm sitting facing the oncologist at Cancer Treatment Centers of America, I am forced to come to terms with something I was hoping to avoid. Chemo. I know for most it probably seems somewhat matter of fact. A (you have cancer) + B (you need treatment) = C (chemo). If you have been following my blog, then you know that I was hoping and praying to be able to treat this without the use of chemo or radiation. Apparently this is not going to be possible.
I have a few factors that have tipped the scales....
1. Triple positive breast cancer is more aggressive
2. The younger you are, the more aggressive breast cancer is in general
3. Unsure if tumor has gotten larger or just changed shape due to biopsy
4. According to MRI, there's been no involvement of lymph nodes, etc.
5. They believe it has not spread...yet. But the nature of my tumor will unless treated, possibly quickly
And so I was confronted with the fears of my research. I guess sometimes you can know too much. Side effects, long term prognosis, recurrence. I know for most, chemo is thought of as a life saving drug. And to be sure it has saved lives, for some at a cost. But for me, it's been a fear hovering in the background. Listening to the doctor talk strategies, I begin to tear up. There are 2. One is crazy harsh, the other, less so. So, we can start with the latter and if that doesn't work, then we'll have to bring in the heavy artillery. I am somewhat aware that logic is walking out of the building at this point, but I just cannot chase it down.
So has the doctor, but instead of being annoyed she is patient. Somewhat surprised, but patient as I begin to list out my fears; congestive heart failure, chemo causing future cancers, side effects, early menopause. Fears spilling out more and more tears she hands me a box of tissues, waits, and listens. Finally all talked out, she examines me. More tears, more reassurances. She knows I'm not ready to make this decision. But instead of pushing the issue, she talks about anxiety and a change of perspective. She hugs me and leaves, giving me a few minutes to dress before the Naturopathic doctor comes in.
I excuse myself and head to the bathroom. Make it before I lose all control. Sobbing I have a quick conversation with God...
Me: Am I really supposed to have this?
God: ...
Me: Okay, Lord if this is what's next, then prevent my fear from making another decision. Prevent me from running from the very thing that any rational person can see I need to do. Prevent me from responding to the fear.
I had a much different perspective of how this went down until a few minutes ago. I didn't see the compassion the doctor showed me. I didn't recognize the care in her actions, the gentleness, the truth. Honestly, didn't notice any of that until I've been typing it. All I saw was something being forced on me that I didn't want to do. I saw nothing beneficial.
How often do we run from Truth? How often are we not able to see the benefit in a given situation?
We got to listen to our friend Ricky preach today. My plight running in the back of my mind, I sat listening. There was a specific statement that particularly resonated with me. Of course, I wish that I could remember it word for word, but I can't. (sorry Ricky) All I can remember is: God wants what's beneficial for us. (or something like that) Side note: Beneficial does not necessarily equate to what we believe would make us happy. Anyone who tries to tell you it does, isn't speaking truth.
I knew my perspective needed a shift.
I'm left with having to confess the truth...many things that occurred during my visit to Cancer Treatment Center were beneficial. The less aggressive chemo option and extended delivery, beneficial. The supplements to fend off side effects, heart problems, beneficial. All my docs; surgeon, naturopath, and dietician, beneficial. My radiation oncologist who let me pepper her with questions regarding her bout with breast cancer, beneficial. The MRI that showed no spread to lymph nodes, beneficial. Our financial advisor who informed us that the 3 days of visits would probably cost us nothing, beneficial. Free airfare for consultations, beneficial. Free meals and lodging, beneficial.
Presently being reminded about my last post, and feeling humbled. What a great reminder of how self-focused we can be when pain is applied.
Thank you Lord for a new perspective!
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Bumps in the Road
Most have them. Bumps in the road. Things that occur that change our trajectory. Some seem to have little speed bumps, others craters, others Chicago style potholes that swallow part of a car. However, there are those that seem to have an internal GPS that navigates around any little bump that may take them off course. These are the people that for years I've stared in wonderment, questioned, and generally held a secret envy. These people that skate through life, untouched, unaffected, path always clear, always one step ahead of disaster. I am not one of those people.
I am one of those people that stopped making plans, because plans for me lost all validity. Not one of my plans, not one of my dreams for my future that I envisioned as a kid or a teen came into fruition. Not one. I'm discussing this not to bring about sympathy or despair. It's simply the facts. Now, if this were a movie I'd be sitting in a dingy bar, retelling this story to an old high school friend I'd run into somewhere. I'd look downtrodden, disgruntled, and depressed. I am not one of those people.
I remember the instant that my life changed. The very instant that I dropped. It was the night that I gave up, dropped to my knees sobbing, and said a few simple phrases, "I give up. Everything I've tried to do has failed, I have no idea what to do. If you're real, then tell me what my purpose is, and I'll do it. Whatever it is." Important side note here, I was not a Christian and I did not wake up the next day with my life's manifesto in my lap. I am not one of those people.
In fact, I regularly had this one-sided discussion out loud and/or internally for about 6 months. "Show me my purpose, and I'll do it, just show me my purpose." Finally it happened. No, there wasn't a burning bush, or angels from on high, or even really cool theme music. I am not one of those people.
There was just a thought, or a sentence, voiced in my mind... it's difficult to describe. Just one simple thought/sentence. I knew it wasn't from me, but I knew it was for me. This sentence didn't tell me my purpose, it didn't tell me a plan, just an action, just a step. Move. Move from Chicago to Colorado. So I did. I apparently am one of those people.
I won't go into all the details that transpired after this one action. This post is already lengthy, however, suffice to say this one decision completely changed my life's trajectory and has taught me more, given me more, taken away more than I've ever experienced previously.
My opinion? I think we have an incorrect definition of purpose. I believe God views purpose as a very fluid idea. I don't think we do. I think we view it as our life plan, unchanging, our path, our road to travel, a destination to obtain, some big grand plan, our purpose. Which is why when bumps, craters, or detours occur we get so rattled.
It wasn't until I gave up this idea of purpose or "my path" that I began to have purpose. And I'm not talking about the Mother Theresa or the after school special kind of purpose. Mine didn't come with any big proclamations or mission statements. I'm not one of those people.
But in looking back, I can see the part I played, the delicate way He weaved paths together, created intersections, and off ramps. My purpose during that time is very clear, although at the time, I had no idea I was fulfilling any kind of purpose. I was just following directives, praying in earnest, taking action as I was led.
As I'm looking at my current path and thinking about the past the word purpose keeps coming up. I hate that I have cancer. Hate it. In fact since being diagnosed I've prayed words I haven't prayed since Colorado, "Show me the Good in this." And He has in some pretty cool ways. Now, mind you, I'm not saying that being diagnosed with cancer has been a good thing. I am not one of those people, well not yet anyway.
But I know that in looking back I'll be able to see the paths, just like before. I have no idea what purpose this disease, this cancer, will contribute to my or others lives'. But I do know that since I made that decision that fateful night all of my speed bumps, my roadblocks, my personal afflictions and tragedies have served a purpose either for myself or for someone else.
And so this will too...
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." ~Jeremiah 29: 11-13
I am one of those people that stopped making plans, because plans for me lost all validity. Not one of my plans, not one of my dreams for my future that I envisioned as a kid or a teen came into fruition. Not one. I'm discussing this not to bring about sympathy or despair. It's simply the facts. Now, if this were a movie I'd be sitting in a dingy bar, retelling this story to an old high school friend I'd run into somewhere. I'd look downtrodden, disgruntled, and depressed. I am not one of those people.
I remember the instant that my life changed. The very instant that I dropped. It was the night that I gave up, dropped to my knees sobbing, and said a few simple phrases, "I give up. Everything I've tried to do has failed, I have no idea what to do. If you're real, then tell me what my purpose is, and I'll do it. Whatever it is." Important side note here, I was not a Christian and I did not wake up the next day with my life's manifesto in my lap. I am not one of those people.
In fact, I regularly had this one-sided discussion out loud and/or internally for about 6 months. "Show me my purpose, and I'll do it, just show me my purpose." Finally it happened. No, there wasn't a burning bush, or angels from on high, or even really cool theme music. I am not one of those people.
There was just a thought, or a sentence, voiced in my mind... it's difficult to describe. Just one simple thought/sentence. I knew it wasn't from me, but I knew it was for me. This sentence didn't tell me my purpose, it didn't tell me a plan, just an action, just a step. Move. Move from Chicago to Colorado. So I did. I apparently am one of those people.
I won't go into all the details that transpired after this one action. This post is already lengthy, however, suffice to say this one decision completely changed my life's trajectory and has taught me more, given me more, taken away more than I've ever experienced previously.
My opinion? I think we have an incorrect definition of purpose. I believe God views purpose as a very fluid idea. I don't think we do. I think we view it as our life plan, unchanging, our path, our road to travel, a destination to obtain, some big grand plan, our purpose. Which is why when bumps, craters, or detours occur we get so rattled.
It wasn't until I gave up this idea of purpose or "my path" that I began to have purpose. And I'm not talking about the Mother Theresa or the after school special kind of purpose. Mine didn't come with any big proclamations or mission statements. I'm not one of those people.
But in looking back, I can see the part I played, the delicate way He weaved paths together, created intersections, and off ramps. My purpose during that time is very clear, although at the time, I had no idea I was fulfilling any kind of purpose. I was just following directives, praying in earnest, taking action as I was led.
As I'm looking at my current path and thinking about the past the word purpose keeps coming up. I hate that I have cancer. Hate it. In fact since being diagnosed I've prayed words I haven't prayed since Colorado, "Show me the Good in this." And He has in some pretty cool ways. Now, mind you, I'm not saying that being diagnosed with cancer has been a good thing. I am not one of those people, well not yet anyway.
But I know that in looking back I'll be able to see the paths, just like before. I have no idea what purpose this disease, this cancer, will contribute to my or others lives'. But I do know that since I made that decision that fateful night all of my speed bumps, my roadblocks, my personal afflictions and tragedies have served a purpose either for myself or for someone else.
And so this will too...
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." ~Jeremiah 29: 11-13
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
The Day After
So, last week I went to an oncologist appointment at the James Center. The good news? She doesn't believe that it has spread, Praise God! This is a relief, especially after finding out that the tumor is Her2 positive; meaning that it can be more aggressive.
I know many of you have asked how I am. On a daily basis, I'm usually fine. Life has been going on like normal for the most part. Sure, our daily prayers have changed a little to include something to the effect of, "Heal this cancer, Lord." Sure, my daily routine and diet has changed a little - goodbye morning cup of coffee, hello vegetarian, flaxseed/cottage cheese emulsion, no sugar, lifestyle. But other than that, not much different. Most days the fact that I have cancer is on the backburner, rather than the front.
The days that are difficult for me are the days after the doctor appointments. These have been my worse, I have cancer, days. I don't know if it's the prodding, or the discussing, or the questions; whatever it is, the day after seems to be the day when I feel the most lost, most hopeless, and most fearful. These are the days when I wait until Joe has left for work, curl up into a ball and sob. And I mean the ugly, shirt soaking, guttural sounding, crying out to God, body shaking, kind of sobs.
Last Tuesday was no different. However, during my sobbing, these thoughts flooded into my head and kept repeating. Jesus weeps for us in our grief. He sobs when we sob...
Now me not being the, I've memorized all kinds of verse and chapter in the bible individual, had to look it up today for this post. I remembered that I'd read something about it at some point, but had no idea where it would be. And if you haven't read the Bible, well, it's a pretty thick book. It's times like these where prayer and Google become my best search engines.
Finally, found it in Romans. "The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans." (Romans 8:26) And He did. He was there, letting me sob in His lap, placing His hand on my head. I have no idea how long I laid there and cried, but I felt His presence, His love, His pain for my pain.
And that was the Good in the Bad.
Thank you God, for being my comfort, my peace, and my refuge in the day after.
I know many of you have asked how I am. On a daily basis, I'm usually fine. Life has been going on like normal for the most part. Sure, our daily prayers have changed a little to include something to the effect of, "Heal this cancer, Lord." Sure, my daily routine and diet has changed a little - goodbye morning cup of coffee, hello vegetarian, flaxseed/cottage cheese emulsion, no sugar, lifestyle. But other than that, not much different. Most days the fact that I have cancer is on the backburner, rather than the front.
The days that are difficult for me are the days after the doctor appointments. These have been my worse, I have cancer, days. I don't know if it's the prodding, or the discussing, or the questions; whatever it is, the day after seems to be the day when I feel the most lost, most hopeless, and most fearful. These are the days when I wait until Joe has left for work, curl up into a ball and sob. And I mean the ugly, shirt soaking, guttural sounding, crying out to God, body shaking, kind of sobs.
Last Tuesday was no different. However, during my sobbing, these thoughts flooded into my head and kept repeating. Jesus weeps for us in our grief. He sobs when we sob...
Now me not being the, I've memorized all kinds of verse and chapter in the bible individual, had to look it up today for this post. I remembered that I'd read something about it at some point, but had no idea where it would be. And if you haven't read the Bible, well, it's a pretty thick book. It's times like these where prayer and Google become my best search engines.
Finally, found it in Romans. "The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans." (Romans 8:26) And He did. He was there, letting me sob in His lap, placing His hand on my head. I have no idea how long I laid there and cried, but I felt His presence, His love, His pain for my pain.
And that was the Good in the Bad.
Thank you God, for being my comfort, my peace, and my refuge in the day after.
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