tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32088831343305073922024-02-22T05:07:35.081-08:00MotheringBoysKatherine Asbery has had several titles throughout life but the one she most loves is Mom. She has a master's degree in clinical psychology but love to coach people with their health journeys. She and her husband are the lucky parents to three terrific boys and a blessing daughter that joined us through domestic adoption. She is an author, business owner, breast cancer survivor, health coach, and champion of the underdog.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-90339780451731494752019-08-13T14:48:00.000-07:002019-08-13T14:48:07.562-07:00Back in the groveIts been years since I've picked up the pen to journal. Years since I have stopped life in order to re-catagorize my own. But that stops now. Now, I am getting back to basics. The kids are slowly returning to school this week so it's time to simplify. How do you do that? What do you do to refocus and de-clutter your space?<br />
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This week I am focusing on centering. I'm taking moments of the day to sit in the quiet, and regroup. Diffuse some essential oils. Take a walk outside and take in my surroundings. It triggers my mommy guilt to take time for me, but I'm going to push through it. All around me are the scents of Harmony, Warrior, and Focus. Seeping into my soul to help me. If you need some help picking out some essential oil scents to bring into your life, let me know!<br />
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So stay tuned.....<br />
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MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-560157407992827902016-10-16T09:37:00.003-07:002016-10-16T09:37:40.032-07:00Today is the day!<br />
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Today I hit the three year cancer free mark. I feel like this day is the beginning of my "hump" year headed towards the 5 year mark which increases my survival rate. Survival rate.......I like to call it the Living rate. I had cancer, I live with the fact it could return any day. That is not always a comfortable place to live. But truly, it's not much different than living after losing a spouse or a child. You continue on, but every day there are reminders that sock you in the gut.<br />
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I've been trying to embrace my cancer-ness. To reach out. To be available. To be a shoulder or a phone call. To guide. And then to step back and watch that warrior race forward on their own. But then, I've had good roll models in this journey who have done the same for me. A sister/brotherhood that we find ourselves in. Thankfully, never alone.<br />
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This year for my anniversary, Alexes, Dave and I are walking in the Making Strides American Cancer Society walk next weekend. I'm looking more at the fundraiser CURE which is focused more on finding a cure for metastic cancer. Something I never want to have.<br />
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The biggest difference I feel this year is just that, the ability to feel. I had cancer. I have fake boobs. I take medication that makes me gain weight. But I feel. I'm alive. I've had three more years with my family and friends. It is part of my life, but not my entire life. At times, thoughts rear their ugly head but for the most part, I live. And for that movement, I'm grateful.<br />
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For years I felt like I was drowning in cancer. I felt I would never be the same. I felt disappointed that my body was not what it used to be. That my mind was off. That I had to take medications that felt like poison to my body. Today, I feel more at peace. Yes, I had breast cancer, but it never had me. And that feels amazing!<br />
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Today I look at my almost 17 year old, my 14 year old, my newly 10 year old, and my 4 year old and I think of the ways cancer has changed them. They know I had cancer. But the littles were not effected. They were too, well, little. But my big boys, they get it. They understand that cancer kills people. They have watched their grandfather go through colon cancer recently. They have stared cancer in the face of a loved one. Their compassion has no end. I like to think my cancer journey taught them a little about the focus of life. But then again, they are teens and their focus is mostly self centered. :)<br />
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I'm grateful God wasn't finished with me yet. I'm grateful that He was there to help me walk in grace. I'm grateful for my friends and family who never left my side. I'm grateful for the new friends Cancer has brought into my life. I'm grateful to bring awareness to self exams and mammograms. I'm grateful to be strength when others need it. I'm.just.grateful. For one more year with my kids. More time with my husband. Memories with my family. More wrinkles, more laughs, more days running kids here and there.....<br />
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Yes, this is my hump year. Not because things will go downhill from this day forward, but because they will go upward. As I hear my friends say they are 17 years, 10 years, 6 years, 5 years cancer free, I want that to be me. Moving on! Upward!!!<br />
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MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-20360643988087321712016-08-12T21:09:00.001-07:002016-08-13T06:09:44.014-07:00MiraclesDo you believe in miracles? I mean the huge, God given ones that are only allowed every once in a while but are so life altering that you can't help but pay attention? I do. I believe in them. I believe that God still performs miracles today. I believe that our lives are still important to Him. I believe he still walks with us on Earth and guides us to his heavenly home. Why? Because I have seen them. Repetitively. I see God's work in my life almost daily. Not in the little mundane things, but in huge, life altering things. Let me explain.<br />
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I prayed to God for a man who would love me unconditionally. A man who would see my potential, help me grow, and always be there when I fall. I met Dave. Our lives have been like a wave upon the sea. Sometimes powerful, sometimes weak. Sometimes out of control in the storm, other times, predictable. But he is the man for me. He completes me. I cannot live without him. Ok, so I could if I had to. But I don't WANT to. He is the ying to my yang. We have walked many paths through our relationship to get us to where we are. I do not want to be without him. Ever.<br />
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Our boys....my pregnancies you have heard about. horrible. Scary. Early births, stuck babies......I'm a disgrace to the human population in giving birth. If I had lived in the early years, my babies would have all died, and me with them. What a wonderful thought (NOT!). But every day, my children are walking miracles.<br />
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Our daughter. I don't even need to explain the multiple ways this little girl is a miracle. From the way she came into our lives, to the little girl she is growing to be. She is my dream come true. And she knows it.<br />
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Finding my cancer was a miracle. For the years I had put off having a mammogram. And then to have one, finding this minuscule cancer that was removed two weeks later. Lord, continue to help me walk in your Grace with this journey. I still meet people almost weekly, if not daily, that I can connect to. Look at me. I had cancer. i'm here. I'm present. I'm still living. And by the grace of God, I'm seeing my children meet milestones I was fearful I wouldn't see almost three years ago.<br />
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But my true miracle story comes from eight and a half weeks ago. What happens in two and a half months? A lot. Let me tell you. Oh, wait, I am. :) Two and a half months ago I thought my husband had pancreatic cancer. For those of you who don't know what pancreatic cancer is, think of the most horrible thoughts of your mind, and that is it. It's a death sentence. Most people do not survive for long. When pancreatic cancer is found, it is usually too late. Within months, that person is gone. Forever. Dead. I looked at my husband and our hopes and dreams and saw them slowly be ripped from me.<br />
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But never fear! I've been here before. I've had an abruption. I've almost lost three children. I almost lost an adopted child. I could have lost my life. I would.not.lose.my.husband.<br />
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What do you do when things in your life get hairy? I pray. A lot. For everyone, for myself, for those hurting.......so I prayed. I prayed that my husband was spared this journey. That there was another explanation. That he would be healthy to continue to do his gift from God......<br />
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Because you see, my husband is a physician that uses his God given gift to help. He doesn't care about insurance. He doesn't care about politics or policies. He cares about patient care and the health of his patients. He is interested in their lives, their children. He is a physician like you hardly see in todays world. He bucks bureaucracy and their ways. He stands up for what is right, what is not right now. He makes enemies that will try to tie him down, change his principals and sway his belief of what is right. But he remains firm, even when others try to take him down. We cannot lose him. So many people would lose fabulous care if he were gone. Life altering care. Life saving care. Life giving care. This cannot be. It must be a mistake.<br />
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Two weeks after his probable diagnosis of 70-50% pancreatic cancer we have an endoscopic ultrasound with biopsy. The results are mixed. They are still not sure he has cancer, but there may be something else. What? Asymptomatic pancreatitis? IPMN? What is going on? We are scheduled for another MRI weeks later. We go. Inconclusive. What is this mass? What IS it? what does this mean to our family? To his patients? To my husband?<br />
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We are scheduled for another biopsy but decide at the prompting of a good friend and other doctors to go to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. Let's find an answer. Because we can no longer live like part of us is dying every day. We have plans. We have things we want to do before we die. And cancer is no longer a part of our plan. I pray.<br />
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My friends pray.<br />
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My family prays.<br />
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A few select people are allowed into our inner circle. They pray.<br />
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This week we went to Mayo. People who are really sick go to the Mayo Clinic, right? People who can't find answers elsewhere?? Clasping hands like it was us against the world we maneuvered from appointment to appointment. My life line was in a group message to my family. My heart in my throat. But through it all, I hear God clearly. It is well.....with my soul. It is well.......<br />
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We go from appointment to appointment. Going through the motions. watching how a major medical operation runs and wanting to bring those ways back to our little town, to our clinic. Worrying about a mass that could mean death, but trusting God that all is well. It is well....with my soul...It is well...<br />
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Truly. Trusting. I remember being on the floor next to our dresser praying to God about my own cancer. Through the fear came the words... You will be fine. Trust me. Walk in Grace......And I tried. Now, I hear Him again. It is well....with my soul........I know that God has his hand on my husband and all I have to do is believe, trust, and pray. And so I do.<br />
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Seven appointments in two days. The Mayo Clinic runs like a well oiled machine. With super happy employees. Who are helpful and caring and smile with their eyes. I've spoken with patients in the hallway, I've talked with an Aunt who's niece was diagnosed with breast cancer. I talked with a man with Celiacs. I smile at everyone I pass. Because, well, it is well with my soul. God promised. I believe.<br />
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Dave has a 3x1cm mass in the head of his pancreas. If it is cancer or IPMN, we are looking at a whipple procedure. It is no joke. It is weeks, if not a month of recoup time. It is neither of us in the office. It is pain. It is watching our children go through their parents have a major medical issue once again. Money lost, family time lost, health lost. It will take him a year or longer to get back to where he is now. I know, it has taken me years to get back the strength I lost. And I'm still not where I was in 2013. I know this road. It's not good. But we will do it. We will walk it, run it, whatever. We will make it, together.<br />
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He gets his bloodwork. We meet with a PA. He has an MRI and more blood work. we are prepared for his procedure. One that will let us know what we are dealing with for sure. The dr walks in the room early the next morning. Layered shirts and wrinkled khakis. Bright, squeaking running shoes. Short hair, glasses, and a hesitant smile. But he listens. He jokes. He asks if we know the results of the MRI from the day before. We do not. He breaks the news to us.<br />
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NOTHING. There is no mass. No bundle of anything. There is NO mass at all. It is GONE. GONE. Do you hear it?? It is well...with my soul...Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.<br />
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Gone. This mass that could have taken my husband's life. Is.Gone. Do you realize what this means?? Besides joking with him about sucking it up, my heart breaks in thanksgiving. My husband is healthy! He is not dying! I will be able to annoying him for decades to come! But wait...........<br />
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For real? I admit. I hesitated. I asked questions. I asked about contraindications. How does this happen? How does one come to rule out cancer and then be told the mass is GONE?? We agree to proceed with the procedure. Do another endoscopic ultra sound. Tell us what you see.<br />
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Hours go by. All I feel is peace. I text friends. Prayers have been answered. My husband has been healed. There is no cancer. I want to call the 7 year survivor of pancreatic cancer who purposefully pulled us to the side at last nights restaurant. A man who saw my survivor shirt and he wore a hat and we were instantly family. They leave a piece of themselves with us. He was not to survive a year at their 30th wedding anniversary. That night, they were celebrating their 37th anniversary. God sends people into our paths. We just have to be open to receive them.<br />
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The procedure is over. Before my husband comes out of anesthesia, he is helping our nurse who is having fertility issues. He's discussing a route and testing she and her husband should take. She is actively taking notes. Listening to his guidance. I am in awe. If I have ever doubted that he has a gift from God, it is put to rest. This man was made to be a physician. To help. To heal. To guide. Our nurse beams with hope renewed. My heart soars. Our doctor comes in to review Dave's case. There is no mass. He does not have cancer. There is no IPMN. This is, well, nothing. Anything that was there has been reabsorbed into his body. He has been healed by our greatest physician's hand. God has healed my husband.<br />
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Follow up in 3-6 months. Wow.......<br />
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So when people waver. Is there a God? Where are his miracles? I want them to see my family. To see me. To see my boys. To see my daughter. But mostly, now, to see my husband. Where there once could have been cancer, there was nothing.<br />
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NOTHING.<br />
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So for now, we sit with a hat that says Pancreatic Cancer Survivor, given to us from our new 7 year survivor friend. And we revel in the fact that God STILL preforms miracles. Look for them. They happen. And when in doubt, know all is well........<br />
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<li class="first" style="list-style-type: none; margin-top: 0px;">When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,<br />When sorrows like sea billows roll;<br />Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,<br />It is well, it is well with my soul.<ul style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<li class="refrain" style="list-style-type: none; margin-left: 20px; margin-top: 1em;"><span class="refrain" style="font-style: italic;">Refrain:</span><br />It is well with my soul,<br />It is well, it is well with my soul.</li>
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<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-top: 1em;">Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,<br />Let this blest assurance control,<br />That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,<br />And hath shed His own blood for my soul.</li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-top: 1em;">My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—<br />My sin, not in part but the whole,<br />Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,<br />Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!</li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-top: 1em;">For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:<br />If Jordan above me shall roll,<br />No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life<br />Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.</li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-top: 1em;">But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,<br />The sky, not the grave, is our goal;<br />Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!<br />Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!</li>
<li style="list-style-type: none; margin-top: 1em;">And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,<br />The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;<br />The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,<br />Even so, it is well with my soul.</li>
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Be well my friends. Know that God walks among you. He hears you. Keep praying. And let me know what I can do for you as well. For now, i'm going to bask in the sunshine of our Lord's love. </div>
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MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-47366768211814850322015-09-19T19:11:00.001-07:002015-09-19T19:11:13.106-07:00TransparencyI think on my life and I feel like I have been mostly an open book. People see my struggles. With raising all boys, with adoption, with cancer. And then this week a friend has had two suicides in her close family life. And with them, a plea. To talk to our kids about suicide. To let them know that life is not an end all. That it ebbs and flows within weeks, months, years. So, I sat down with my two older boys to talk to them about life, stress, and suicide.<br />
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Right now, my boys are not under stress. So this discussion was open, raw, and with disbelief. I remember a time in my life when it was such. Who would allow someone else, or something else to have so much control over them? Who would think of losing their own life over someone else? Over a temporary situation. I can vividly remember thinking of those people as weak. Wondering why they don't walk away, find someone to talk about, or realize their worth. Until I was in such a situation.<br />
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I talked to my boys in simple terms about a young girl who loved a young boy. Who thought the moon and sun rose on him. And how he grew to not feel the same way. How he threw other girls into my face. How he told me I was worthless. How he broke my heart, shredded it, and threw it away. And how I reacted as a young girl. How I understood how someone could not walk away from someone who hurt them. Physically, emotionally, socially......how I cried out to friends and how many came to my aid. How at times, I felt the only way to escape the embarrassment was to end my life. How I learned that suicide is a long term fix for a temporary problem. As I fought my way out of that way of life with the aid of my family and friends, I realized how easy it is to fall under the spell of someone else. How a strong minded, willed, and independent girl had fallen prey. It was an ugly journey. I can assure you of that. My family and close friends will as well. But it is one, I luckily survived. And became stronger because of it.<br />
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Everyone has a story with them. A story that tells of who they are and how they came to be. Some stories they wish would disappear, like this one. But as it is, this story shaped my life more than I expected. From it, I grew stronger. From it, I knew how to do marital and couples therapy with a spouse that was being abused. Due to it, I was compassionate, understanding, and could deal with men and women who could not simply "leave" relationships behind. And I knew how to talk to my boys. About how life throws you curves and you learn to field them.<br />
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As I shared, my boys had a hard time seeing this young girl in the woman I have become. My boys have seen a mother who shares hardship and joy. Who apologies. Who loves. Who holds their hands through hard times, stands up for them, and teaches them to stand for others. But one who never gives up. So to tell them of my younger self, my feelings, and my fears, allowed them to see a part of me they had never witnessed; yet are old enough to recognize. With telling my boys of my own shortcomings as a child, by telling them of my feelings and actions, and those of my courageous friends, they could see and feel how suicide hits close to home. And it made an impact. For now, my boys know they are protected by their father and I. That we will move mountains to see them safe. All is right in their worlds. I pray it will always be so.<br />
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For now, I am praying for my friend's family. For the friends of her children who lost a classmate. For her family who lost a loved one. Because I know, how easily, it could have been me. Or maybe you.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-82856244989009925682015-07-29T14:17:00.001-07:002015-07-29T14:18:03.909-07:00closing ranksI'm left wondering a lot lately. What is our world coming to? What kind of place am I raising my children in? Where are the lines we draw for our family and how do we deal with those that would cross them? Is it wrong that I want to pull back? To question if people are truly friends or if they have an ulterior motive. How can I ensure my four children grow up with a good work ethic, strong morals, compassion for others, and a belief in Christ?<br />
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The things I thought made the world go round seem shaken. I've spent my adult life caring for others. Giving to people who needed. My husband has been the same. But now, we find ourselves given out. Can that happen? Can you put so much of your own life on hold to fill the need of others that you simply forget you have a life to live as well? It appears you can. So, how does one regroup?<br />
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We bought a house in the country. The sounds at night remind me of my childhood. I feel a sense of peace when I pull in the driveway or sit on the back deck. We are secluded. Responsible to each other. A helpful family unit. Even through the logistics of moving three miles from our last house, we have come full circle. Back to our roots.<br />
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It is here I realize I am tired of living my life in a fish bowl. Of having friends only on the periphery of life. And of giving with no return. As selfish as that sounds. So, for now I am regrouping with my main players. Enjoying my husband and our kids. And putting out feelers for those friends who will stand by me. Because we all know my life is not for the faint of heart!MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-8433072621669176442014-11-16T13:06:00.002-08:002014-11-16T13:06:34.943-08:00Be Mindful<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92suRGzVtAnLfaOxAqjjc8U80tRRwDExmXXSOUlQzJcD6cK3LoECNvsuZZ4Kic-IROq8vciPs8DZDH5lZojBCe7by56XZsnEheLdH_EMdf-fTFBSsFwJZxoFimaLAfdfKXrUswrTok-o/s1600/IMG_9826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92suRGzVtAnLfaOxAqjjc8U80tRRwDExmXXSOUlQzJcD6cK3LoECNvsuZZ4Kic-IROq8vciPs8DZDH5lZojBCe7by56XZsnEheLdH_EMdf-fTFBSsFwJZxoFimaLAfdfKXrUswrTok-o/s1600/IMG_9826.jpg" height="113" width="320" /></a>I sit here in the silence watching the snow fall. It allows my mind to wander to journeys behind me and those to come. The roads that each of us travel to get to where we are. And then to evaluate where we are and is it where we wanted to be? Or somewhere quite different? On my mind is an upcoming surgery, a classmate who lost his wife to breast cancer, a friend who just gave birth, another friend trying to find his footing even a year after losing his daughter and grandson, a friend struggling through divorce, health issues, new jobs..........it all becomes mumbo jumbo in my mind. I don't spend a lot of time thinking of how I can change the world. Dave does that. Big ticket items. Huge ideas that would impact worlds. He is a larger thinker than I. I feel small and insignificant compared to the thought process of my husband. How he can make things better for millions of people. How he can change things for scores of humans.......I'm more on a small scale. And have always felt a little less than because of it. Because my thinking is more based on the small group of people in my circle. Those who I know are hurting, or celebrating, or I'd like to get to know better. I'm trying to learn my gifts that God has given me to use. What are they? How shall He use me? What shall I lean towards as the seasons change in my life.<br />
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I have stood for many things. I have fought for many things. I have defended many a person as well. But I've also said hurtful things. Done the wrong thing. And been less than I could of because I would not listen. I'm human. I learn more about life every day. But I am also forgiven. Not to continue to do the wrong things, but because of them, God forgives me and I move forward. To make new mistakes. :)<br />
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Today I wonder why me? Why was I chosen to live when someone else was not. Why am I on my fourth breast surgery while someone else is on their 13th or more. Why did my implants not become infected? Why did my nodes not have cancer? Why did I just need tamoxifen for 10 years and no chemo or radiation? Yes, I lost both of my breasts, but I feel like I GAINED so much more. How can that be? How can I be a support to women going through cancer when I feel that it has been one of the blessings of my life?!?!?<br />
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A blessing? Really? Have I lost my mind? No. Before cancer I was continuing on about my life in a self centered way. I went to church, yes. I have always been a believer and a strong religious person. But I wasn't seeing life around me fully. Not that I take ever moment morbidly now, but I enjoy moments more. For example, today, at church, there was a young couple with their tiny little boy sitting in front of me. He was small, only about 4-6 weeks old and so handsome with a head full of hair and big boy clothes on. His little momma loved on him. Rocked him, fed him, kissed on him....his grandma reached over from a person away and stroked his hair and his hand. His Daddy held his Mommy's hand through communion. You could tell she was exhausted. And the Dad, he kept searching her eyes to see what he could do. The Grandma held him but he became fussy so she handed him back to his Mommy where he breathed a sigh of relief and went to sleep. She rocked him in her arms throughout the service. Even though you could see in her shoulders she was tired. She never let on. After the service, I simply hugged her, a stranger, and told her I thought she was an amazing Mother. To continue on. She was blessed with this tiny little person she loved more than life itself, and it showed. She was simply amazing. Doing what any other mother would do? Possibly, but she did it with Grace. And as I prayed over her small family, I knew God has his eye on her and she will be just fine.<br />
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Just like me. Just like God has always had his eye on me. Through scary moments when it seemed I would fall from a cliff side, to dancing in the rain, God's plan has always been beautiful. Through the heartbreak and trials are blessings and heart filled rewards. Through reaching out to others, become friendships that seal. Through illness comes an understanding of others. A time to show strength, grace, and God's love as you walk.<br />
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I hope I always do that. Whether it be through gender disappointment, raising boys, <br />
adopting, a working mom, a physicians wife, a cancer survivor, or anything else that comes my way, I hope I always show a humbleness to walk with God. Or be carried. Whichever. I hope I'm always mindful of those who came before, and are watching as they follow.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-25443922688592313592014-09-30T04:56:00.002-07:002014-09-30T04:56:34.513-07:00On This DayOn this day a year ago (it was a Monday), I walked into the Radiology Dept of Good Samaritan Hospital to have a needle biopsy of the mass near my chest wall. Dr. Ryan Willis and I chatted about our children, sports, and anything else that came across our minds. The ultrasound lady was the same from Friday so she knew exactly where my mass was. Holding my hand was the patient advocate, Linda, who would become a rock for me.<br />
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Thanks to a family history of metabolizing meds quickly, I was given the full amount of pain meds allowed. But even it wore off towards the end of my procedure. In tears from the pain, it was finally over. I was sent next door with a titanium ball now in my chest to have a mammogram to check on it's placement. Only the machine was broken. I was scheduled to go back in the afternoon.<br />
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That afternoon as I had a follow up mammogram, my incision spot burst open and bled on the mammogram screens. I had a major fall apart which scared the girl doing the mammogram. As she dashed from the room, blood oozed down my chest to my stomach. I sat partially unclothed and cried. By the time she came back, with Dr. Willis in tow, I had pulled myself sort of together again. Lesson for the day? Mammograms with a barely closed incision hurt badly. Thankfully, I will never have to do that again.<br />
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One week later, at the plastic surgeons office, the bruising from that procedure remained. When I see pictures of myself before my mastectomy, two weeks later, it is still there. I jokingly told my surgeon to follow the bruises to know the right side to remove.<br />
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At this point, on that day, I was still unsure of where this road was headed. Where I was headed. I put my trust in God and moved forward.<br />
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Now, it seems like a life time ago. And at times, like it all happened to someone else. How life just goes on. And it does. And no amount of worrying was going to change the outcome, on this day.<br />
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What have I learned? That I can talk to three people as I lay partially naked in a room with a huge needle in my breast. That I can step away from myself, as a stranger is applying pressure to said wound and ask her about herself. To find out that she, too, had had a needle biopsy. And is a breast cancer survivor. Through our tears she admitted that no one had ever asked her about herself at this point in their journey. I'm thankful I did. She is one of my heroes, although she may never know. I learned I could trust deeper, depend on others, and move gingerly through the day as if nothing happened. I learned God has me in His hand and when I walk the walk He has placed in front of me, I have the best guide of all.<br />
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On this day, I am once again thankful for this journey and the people it has brought into my life.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-58110404523028127442014-09-27T20:41:00.001-07:002014-09-27T20:41:33.074-07:00Another step...Have you ever looked back at your life and wondered about the roads you were on and how you ended up in a totally different place? Are you happy with that different spot? Do you look back and see where you could have gone totally wrong and yet you landed here?? I think of that often when I think about what a single minded teen I was. Things were either black, or they were white. There was no grey area and that was my downfall. Because a lot of life falls in that grey area. But I just didn't get it. If you asked me a question, be prepared for the brutal truth because I had no idea how to be diplomatic. Thankfully, as years have passed, I have learned that skill (mildly). I know I hurt many feelings due to my own insensitivity and it makes me cringe.<br />
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Through life events, I've learned that everyone feels they must have an opinion. Sometimes those opinions are hurtful, almost always, they are not even asked for. I've received so many comments about having all boys. And then about adopting a daughter, and now about breast cancer. Each situation has been different. I would get defensive with the comments about boys, whether it was specific or a general comment. I would rally to defend my boys and others. Then I was protective of Elliana. I still am. "Oh, she's the one you adopted..." What? And you felt you had to say that WHY? She is our daughter. She has been in my arms since she came from the womb. I breast fed her, cared for her, went to great lengths to solve an allergy issue for her. She is ours in every sense of the word. But then, on the other side, I like to educate people on the birth order differences, and about adoption. My journey with breast cancer has been different. I don't mind the comments. Or the questions. I love being there to support others, to help guide them, to be a place to start when they are newly on the road.<br />
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So where does that leave me? Looking back. I often feel I can't move forward without looking backward. To truly appreciate what I have been given in this life. A patient told me this week that she feels that once you live your life to the potential God set for you; when you have done what he placed you here to do and are using the gifts He gave you, then he snatches you back to Him. That made me think....maybe I don't want to use up all my Godliness yet. ;) I'd like to stick around for awhile longer. I'm kinda thankful I'm not perfect. HA!<br />
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This week I am reliving my cancer diagnosis days of a year ago. And looking back, I see what a blessing having cancer was for me. The ups and downs and twists and turns of this past year have strengthened my faith, increased my connection with family and friends, taught me to reach out in my community more, and reminded me that prayer is the best gift of all. It's almost like I have been rejuvenated in life and am looking at things so much clearer now. I pray I continue to walk in grace.<br />
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In a few weeks I will be joining three dear friends as we do a 3 day 60 mile walk for SGK. Each of these friends have a connection in my life that I have due to decisions that were made in my journey. Lisa and I have been friends since 1996 when I moved to North Carolina. She helped me plan my wedding, looked forward to the birth of my first child, we got piercings together on a girls weekend trip......I have a quilt rack hanging in my house that her dad made for me. I have Christmas ornaments on my tree that we hang every year that she bought for us. She was my saving grace when I moved far away from my family for the first time. Dawn and I have had a connection since 2012 when we met through our adoption agency. We've been there for each other through the trials and tribulations of adoption, her father's passing, my cancer diagnosis....she has been my sounding board. The person who texts out of the blue to make sure you are ok. The voice on the other end of the phone. A meet up in DC where we felt like we had been friends for eons. A soul sister in life. Alexes and I knew each other on the periphery of life. But once the idea of a walk was brought up, she jumped on board with both feet. She has showed up at my house for no reason other than the fact she knew I was having a hard time. She has dealt with my mood swings, my ranting and raving, and my tears. She is my voice of reason. She is ready to do anything we come up with and gives herself 100%. She makes me smile and my heart sing. I am a lucky woman with these three friends. I cannot wait to have this life altering experience with them. We also hope to see our friend Amanda at the walk since it was all her original idea!!!<br />
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One year. Another step forward. Another journey after cancer. I wonder what is in store for me next!! Whatever it is, I hope God helps me to continue to walk in grace.......MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-82926596237099507392014-09-14T17:22:00.001-07:002014-09-15T04:57:26.569-07:00Out of the blueI went in for a regular mammogram. Me, a mom of 4 kids ages from 13 to 18 months. I have no family history. No reason to fear. Other than fibrous cysts, there has been no reason for concern. Small breasted, healthy weight, exercise like crazy, moderation in everything in life, breast fed four babies.......no reason to be concerned. Until there is. At age 37, my mammogram was clear. At 42, it was not. I was brought in for another look. An ultrasound, another mammogram. And then a biopsy. I had breast cancer. Me. Who meets NO risks. Other than the stars aligned and here I was. This was last year. Last year. One year ago I went in for a routine mammogram. Which turned out to be anything but routine.<br />
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In a few weeks I will relive the days that led to my diagnosis. The biopsy, the waiting, the call, the dr appt, the scans. Nothing that anyone wants to endure, but things we remotely run through when it is expected of us. Appointments I went to without question. Demoralizing, dehumanizing, yet uplifting and prayerful along the way.<br />
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I remember someone telling me this journey would be at least a year. And they were right. One year ago I thought I was completely healthy. Normal every day things irritated me. I was frustrated by tiny things that mean nothing in the wide scheme of things. I was not fully involved in my own life. I was worn out, spent, and emotionally through.<br />
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Today, a year later, after a cancer diagnosis and surgeries and a pernicious anemia diagnosis, I find myself light years away. I am MORE involved in life. MORE involved in my marriage, in my children's lives, in my family, with my friends, with my community. We are not promised tomorrow, but we are given today. I have learned to live each day to it's fullest.<br />
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Do I ever get frustrated? Yes. Do I ever feel exhausted? yes. Are my feelings ever hurt by others? Yes. I have learned so much this year. I am SO thankful for my cancer. For this is what I have learned Cancer cannot do: It cannot steal my joy. It cannot take what I have to offer others. Cancer cannot stop teaching me life lessons. It has taught me to love deeper. Forgive immediately, cry freely, and to offer encouragement when it's needed. Cancer has taught me that every day is a gift. Every experience is to be met head on with JOY not with sadness. With each step my children make, I am smiling like a fool. Thankful to be in their memories and to be there every step of the way for as long as God allows. I no longer fear the end. I am a child of God and I will see him one day. Whether it is sooner or later, I have no idea, but I will live each day with no regrets. Do you do the same?<br />
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Cancer does not need to steal your happiness. It does not need to steal your friends or your life. I have seen friends fight huge battles and come out the other end further along in life than they were before. I want to do that. I want to continue to walk in grace. I want to be the face of God in my journey. I had breast cancer. I had both of my breasts removed. But I can come to the alter and pray for you, no matter what is going on in your life, because I am protected by my one true God. I will walk with you, no matter what your journey is. Because I have faced death and won. I have looked into my children's eyes and lived their whole lives with them, even though I take day by day. Lessons learned and passed on.<br />
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Sometimes life hits us like that, out of the blue. When we are normally going through things and something extraordinary hits us. For me, it was cancer. It made me rethink my life. My marriage, my boys, adopting the child of my dreams, my expectations, my bucket list. And I'm thankful that I sit here fulfilled. Although there are minute things I may have changed, each lesson has brought me to where I am. And I'm thankful for the journey. And I will continue to face life, out of the blue.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-82569829267046166722014-09-04T09:06:00.000-07:002014-09-04T09:06:38.585-07:00A Fear TamedWhat are you afraid of? Losing someone you love? Having a terminal disease? Never having the quality of life you had before? Never having a child in your life? Some fears are bigger than others. Some are fears that stop us in our tracks. When I think of losing one of my children, I can feel my throat close as I start to gasp for breath. But other fears are able to be overcome. They may not be enjoyable, but you can do them. Riding a horse, zip lining, eating escargot.....<br />
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Since my cancer diagnosis eleven months ago, I have been afraid that I will never be able to exercise like I had been. I would never do cross fit again. I would never again flip a tire, do chin ups, do push ups, lift weights. With the node removal, my arm is at risk for lymphedema. The swelling of my arm that had the cancer and the nodes removed. It is a serious condition and one I look for even though I am at a relatively low risk. As I have walked and begun running again these past few months, I have ached to get back into the gym. To see what my body can do now. To push myself beyond where I am. Which is stagnant. And I don't want to be here. I want to be where I was. Before breast cancer entered my life and I lost both of my breasts.<br />
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But fear has stopped me. The fear of ripping my mesh (which I did) and having to have another surgery (which I did). But mostly it's the fear that I can't do the things I want to do. That I now have limitations that I didn't place upon myself. So I just walked at the gym. Ran a little. Did small weights. Jumped rope.... But my heart called out to the dead lift bar. To push ups. To chin ups. OH, how my heart called out to chin ups!! I longingly watched others do them and lamented that I would never be able to do that again. I was sad.<br />
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Then, I talked to another breast cancer survivor. One who did cross fit through her journey before cancer and did not want to give it up. I did a Skype call with her and laid all my fears on the line. She was amazing. She, too, felt like I do. She, too, was afraid. But she did it anyway! So armed with tips from her and exercises to do, I hit the gym.<br />
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Today, I did chin ups and pull ups. With my foot on a green elastic band to help with the weight of my body. I did 37 of them. I am not as strong as I once was. But that is ok. I'm also learning I'm not limited. I did dead lifts, and push ups off the bar. And wall throws and kettle bells and lap pull downs and sit ups and obliques.....I did it all! Not at high reps or weights, but going through the motions. I did them without pain. Or ripping. Or trepidation.<br />
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Facing things we are afraid of is never easy. But staying afraid is not easy either. And staying the same is not an option for a full life. So go out! Meet those fears head on. And when you do, let me know about it!!MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-38256034073966186612014-07-10T06:18:00.001-07:002014-07-10T06:18:04.597-07:00The Calm After the StormA quiet sense of peace envelopes over me. A smile plays at the corner of my lips. Yes, there is pain. And drains to empty. And a sore arm, along with with unattractive velcro bra that a mere nine months ago brought me to tears. But today, today as I empty my sole drain and stare at my scars, I am calm. I am not thinking of what I have lost, but what I have gained by taking my health into my own hands.<br />
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"I could never do that! You are so brave." I have heard so many times. Truthfully, I am not brave. I was scared to pieces. I prayed often hoping I was making the right decision. First to have one breast removed, and then, with no reason other than the scary chatter in my head, to have the second one gone. It is not bravery, it's survival. Every time I looked at an old lady, a part of my heart would squeeze. Would I get to be like that old lady? Would I ever wear the polyester, elastic waisted pants and sensible shoes? Would my hair ever turn completely grey as Grandchildren clamored for my attention? I was so afraid my chances had been removed. So, I chose to have my second breast removed. And now, when I look at those old ladies holding hands with their husbands of 40 plus years, I feel happiness.<br />
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Nine months ago, I blindly walked in Faith that God would heal me. I trusted His steps as He carried me. Today, I do the same thing, only I see two sets of footprints. My Lord always is with me, but today, I walk WITH him instead of Him carrying me. And I love the companionship.<br />
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As I told my breast surgeon about the chatter in my head, I was still so unsure I was making the right decision. As I told her of my fears, through my tears, she kindly smiled at me. And suggested the prophylactic mastectomy. It was a decision I knew I had been leading up to when I changed my implant surgery in December. At that time, I was fearful if I had the lift my plastics dr wanted to do done, that I could never have a nipple sparing mastectomy done in the future. So he only augmented and off we went. Until the implant fell through the mesh, and the voices got louder in my head. I knew moving forward to having my second breast removed was the only thing that would stop the chatter.<br />
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But little did I know that it would also calm my soul. Little did I know that it would bring a smile to my face. And relief. I truly feel like a breast cancer survivor now. Instead of waiting for the other shoe to fall. Will the cancer come back somewhere else? I don't know. But I do know that it will NOT come back in my other breast. Because it does not exist. I have eliminated my chances of a second breast cancer. And I hope I have increased my chances of never having any type of cancer again.<br />
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I find myself looking at my children differently as well. Like I'm here for the long haul, instead of being fearful and trying to soak up every little daily thing. I'm excited for their new adventures; high school, theater, 2nd grade, preschool......because I will be there to see it all. The doom and gloom is gone.<br />
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Could I be knocked backward??? Sure. I know that I am still at risk. And the medicine I take every day has it's side effects. But this peace that surrounds me is priceless. I had cancer. I had my breasts removed and reconstructed. And now, I am ready to live my life again. Fully. Without fear. Finally.<br />
<br />MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-57807314722972030032014-06-17T18:58:00.001-07:002014-06-17T18:58:38.931-07:00RuminationsI'm staring at two weeks. Two weeks until my next mastectomy. Two weeks until I do this all over again. The surgery, the pain, the drains, the removal, the healing. Why am I doing this? Voluntarily? UGH.....<br />
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I stand in front of the mirror and I look at myself trying to see if there is a way around having this surgery again. If there is a way around removing both of my breasts that will have implants with skin covering them. A way to wrap my head around the fact that I had cancer. And lost both of my breasts. Due to my own choices. Not that I chose to have cancer. But that I chose to have my breasts removed. Both of them. Who does that?<br />
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And then I remind myself. People who want the chatter in their head to stop make this decision. People who want to increase their chances of living make this decision<br />
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. People who realize intellectually that breasts are not what makes a person. Even if emotionally they feel they are being judged.<br />
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This is not an easy decision. I'm imposing on a ton of people to have a mastectomy this time. Last time it was my parents. Who are medically not in a place to care for me this time. So it is left to our sitter. My husband. My sister. My friends. People who have their own busy lives but are willing to take a moment out to help me. I am humbled all over again. I am inconvienencing my patients who will have to go a month without guidance. I feel horrible about that. I will feel every stumbling block they feel and take responsibility for them. Who leaves their patients for a MONTH? Sigh...... And my children. Who's summer will be filled with other people taking them to camp, swimming, to dance class, to the cabin.....when it should be me. It should be ME.<br />
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But in the middle of the wallowing in self pity, I am reminded that I asked to walk in Grace. That I asked for this journey to make an impact on others. That I asked for this testimony to lean on God and to trust His weaving. So, I am trying to do that. To lean back. To let go. To accept the fact that my real breasts tried to kill me and yet I could make decisions to save myself. So that with God's will, I could watch my children grow, marry, and have kids of their own. That I could hold my baby niece and tell her amazing stories from her Dad's youth. Every time I see an elderly woman, I pray that one day, that will be me.<br />
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So for two more weeks I'll waddle around in thoughts that won't leave my head. Looking at my mismatched breasts that feel cold to the touch. And I'll remind myself I'm still one of the lucky ones. I'm a survivor.<br />
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<br />MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-3134688446794422492014-06-09T05:53:00.002-07:002014-06-09T05:56:17.067-07:00You Never Know.......Who goes on vacation and ends up on the local news? This family!! Some of the crazy hair brained schemes of our lives have never gotten us so much attention. But this one act of last minute decision making (Thanks, Dave, for pushing us all to go!) got us much more than we bargained for.<br />
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We go to South Dakota because my Dad is a history buff. He loves Custer, the battles, the Indians, the forts, anything that is related to that time period, he is so into it. I've bought him so many books through the years, we could have our own library. This is my Dad's thing. And through him, ours. Every 4-5 years we have been going to South Dakota with my parents. As young children, and now as adults. Most people go to the beach. We climb mountains. Most people lay in the sand. We bring home huge granite rocks. It's just how it has always been.<br />
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In 2005 we did our first Volkswalk up Crazy Horse Monument. On a few days of the year you can walk through the woods and up the monument to the flung out arm. It's a 10K. Mostly uphill. That first time, it was so cold, we had to buy sweatshirts before we started! With Kadin by our side, my dad, brother, husband, and I walked up to the top and took in the breathtaking view. In 2010 we took Cullen as well. This year we were going to take Liam, Elliana, my brother's wife and their baby. But due to the cold weather and the rain, the girls stayed home with Johnna who was gracious enough to remain behind so the babies weren't exposed to the horrible weather.<br />
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Who wants to climb a mountain in 45 degree weather? In the rain? No one. But Dave said we came all this way to do it for my Dad, so we headed out.<br />
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See, my Dad couldn't be here this time. With surgery on his carotid artery less than 2 weeks past, he was not able to come. So we walked for him. This time, my sister, her son, Dave, all three of our boys, my brother, and I did the walk. A first for Lisa, Jacob, and Liam. Did I mention it was cold? And RAINING?? And this is a hike through the woods and up a mountain? We are crazy!<br />
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At the first checkpoint there was a guy with a camera. Just a guy. With a tripod and a camera. Now, I admit, I've been to Disney wayyyy too much. I thought this guy was snapping pictures of people to commemorate their walk. So we get our checkpoint cards signed and I move over to see if he will take our picture. A family photo! How awesome! So, he does it. And then I realize......he is not there to take pictures!! We walk up to him and he is actually an anchorman from a TV station in Rapid City. He is there to film the Volkswalk and to look for a human interest story. We become his story.<br />
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He asks if he can follow us up the monument and we say YES! So now we are a group of nine. We learn his name is David Johnson. He's been in Rapid City for 3 months. He would like to do International News. He lived in California. He has a small apartment and likes the warmer weather over the cold we are in. We are here to tell our story but we are blessed more by this man who came into our lives unaware. He films us through the walk, the mud, the other people, and we chat.<br />
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We tell him about our hard year. My beast cancer. My brothers shattered arm. My mom's hospitalization and near death episode. My dad's surgery and struggles since......how we are all here. Smiling, laughing, joking, and helping each other up this huge monument for our Dad. Dave chats with David about all kinds of things. We have a new sibling and he is really nice. :)<br />
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At the top, we face time with Mom and Dad. Because of the rain, the arm is not filled with people so we can wander around as we want. Showing Dad the view, letting him see if more cracks have come upon the face of Crazy Horse in the past 4 years. Letting them talk with their grandsons. It was the next best thing to having them with us. To see his face and to tell him, we did it. For you.<br />
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It was the yuckiest of days. One where you would rather stay in the cabin. But thanks to my husband's foresight, we braved the elements and had one of the best days ever. You never know when a day that seems so dismal will be one of your biggest blessings.<br />
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http://www.kotatv.com/story/25724718/volksmarch-special-for-one-family-from-illinoisMotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-91181414684622708142014-05-13T11:33:00.000-07:002014-05-13T11:33:31.860-07:00RemindersI'll remind you all again that I am a born and raised Presbyterian. We do not go to the alter. I've been one time for myself. The day Elliana was born. But I have found myself drawn to those steps several times when friends go forward. For health of spouses, dealing with addiction, pain of miscarriage or anything else. This past Sunday I went for a dear friend who's son was recently diagnosed with diabetes. It has rocked their world. Yes, there are worse things, but this was a game changer for them. I adore this friend. She always has a smile. She is always helpful, welcoming, her hugs are like coming home. Her son is like my own. My heart was broken because hers was. As I went forward to pray, my husband followed me.<br />
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Little did I know that it would become a blessing for me.<br />
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I realize I am open with my struggles and my walk. My 6 month follow up appointment with the breast surgeon is on Friday. Dave and I will have to ask her some difficult questions. But the sermon was on Living in Fear and I have basically made up my mind on what will occur to my left breast. But while down at the steps, praying for my friend and her son, a new friend began praying over ME.<br />
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Knowing my road is twisting, she prayed for peace. For guidance. For God's hand in what decision I made. For my complete healing (I hope she meant my mind too!). That I have four children and a loving husband that I needed to be here for. That I had a ton of living left to do. For God to watch over me, protect us, and to let me know in my heart that He is there.<br />
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As my friend and her family left, I felt God surround this new friend, others, and my husband, and I knew I could no longer live in fear. I cannot stop the chatter in my head. I had breast cancer. It may come back. It may come in the other breast or somewhere else. But my story has been written!! By a glorious and loving God! Why was I afraid? Why did I think I needed to make Earthly decisions when He had already written the upper story of my life???<br />
<br />
So, thanks to the spoken aloud prayers of a new friend, I know what I will do. If the surgeon does not recommend doing a mastectomy on my left side, I will let my plastic surgeon do the lift he wanted to do to begin with. And I will live with the knowledge that my breasts will be matching for as long as I live. Or if my cancer comes back, until then.<br />
<br />
But really, as much as God has done for me? How dare I not trust him??? How dare I live in fear of what is to come?? I will not. I greet it with open arms. God is my provider. He is all we need. He will blend my lower story with His upper story and it will be beautiful. I only need to do my part.<br />
<br />
To walk in Faith.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-80110885500921346672014-05-04T07:45:00.002-07:002014-05-04T07:45:54.072-07:00"Hold the hand."Scared cries wake me from a light sleep and I lay and listen to see if they will settle and stop, or continue and I will need to get up. The house is quiet all except the whimpers that come across a baby monitor on the dresser. As the cries turn into shouts for me, I get up and go to our little girl. A bad dream. A scary moment in time. She wants held and to be "rockey." I comply. As I hold her small body close and she clutches me around the neck, we rock. Slowly she drifts off to sleep again, breathing deep, her clenched arms loosen.<br />
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It reminds me of how so many times I have had to let go in life and just be held. That I try so hard to be in control but in reality, I am not. My house gets dirty, my schedule gets messed up, my kids get sick, things don't turn out right.....but through it all, I am held. There is a Casting Crowns song that says in it something about when it feels like your life is falling apart, the pieces are really just falling in place. Cullen said this song reminds him of me. How I try to be so strong for everyone, yet in the end, I allow God to hold me close. My eleven year old is watching and learning how to lean on Christ through rough times. My heart is full.<br />
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In the darkest of the night I am always reminded of the journey of how I got to where I am. Times when on my knees I called out to God to direct me. Times when I did not wait around to listen, and other times when no answer came right away. Yet, there was always a path I was on that lead me following Him. With this small child's heart beating next to mine, I find myself in a prayerful state for those around me. For my family, for friends with stage 4 cancer, for friends newly diagnosed, for friends adopting, or finalizing, for friends going through painful relationships or infertility, for friends with new babies, or pregnant, for friends who's children have medical concerns or learning issues, for friends who have life long issues that never seem to go away. For myself.<br />
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In a few weeks I will meet with my breast surgeon again. We will run the six month follow up tests and make sure I am ok. That cancer has not popped up anywhere else, or in the other breast. I feel confident that my right side is ok. That unless micro organisms are in my chest wall, that the breast cancer is gone, along with the breast and nodes on that side. But I am worried about the left side. The side that sags because my implant bottomed out. The side that constantly hurts because it's misshapen. I have a decision to talk to my surgeon about. Do I keep this breast or have it removed as well. So I can stop the chatter in my head. Dave and I have talked extensively about it. In my gut I know I made the right decision to remove only one when I did, but in my head, I wish I had done them both. So we will see. The thoughts of having another mastectomy swirl in my head as I rock my baby back and forth. I'm ready for my breasts and cancer to no longer be in the forefront of my mind. I'm ready to do what needs to be done, and move on. But right now, I'm nervous, worried, and scared about what the decision holds.<br />
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As I lay my sweet daughter back into her crib, she stirs. I lean over the side and pat her making comforting noises that I have whispered to all of my children. To let them know I am there. I am watching over them. They are safe. As I lift my hand away from her warm body, she looks up at me, her arm shooting up in the air, "Hold the hand, Momma? While I sleep?" I eagerly reach down and grasp the small hand of the child of my heart and I am reminded again, I have always been held by God's arms. That He has always been close to hold my hand when I needed him. That is the greatest gift of all.<br />
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Hold the hand, Heavenly Father, hold the hand.............<br />
<br />
<cite class="_pd" style="background-color: white; color: #04622b; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-style: normal; line-height: 16px; white-space: nowrap;">www.youtube.com/watch?v=50lu1j2r53I</cite><span style="background-color: white; color: grey; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px; white-space: nowrap;"></span>MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-37369572207356109082014-04-14T17:09:00.001-07:002014-04-14T17:09:40.943-07:00A Curve in the PathI see my mother in the veins in my hands. And reflected in my brown eyes. And sometimes in the set of my mouth when I want my own way. I hear my mother's voice in my head often in the things that I say and the warnings that I hear in my head. She is the person I turn to almost first when things happen in my life. After Dave, I let my mom know what is going on. Mom, I'm getting married! Mom, we're pregnant! Mom, we're moving! Mom, I have cancer........ She is one of my best and dearest friends. She has known me through my worst and loved me in spite of it. She has accepted my quirks and my ways of dealing with things and adjusted how she responds to me. She listens to my dreams and fears, and shares her own. I am thankful to have her in my life, and to share such a relationship with her. Because of her I learned I could do anything I set my mind to. I could work and be a mother. I could learn new things and always had a safe place to land when needed.<br />
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So what do you do when that safe coven is threatened? When the health of your parents become precarious, you are thrown back to being a child. Suddenly, although you are grown, you are not ready to be fully grown. Yet, you already are. But you think ahead to the things you do automatically. Calling your Dad to let him know you made it home after a trip. Calling your mom on long car drives to just pass the time. Texting funny things you see and think about through the day. Little mundane things. Things that you will dearly miss in your every day life when they are gone. Forever.<br />
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I'm not ready. I admit it. I'm not ready to die myself, and I 'm not ready to let go of any other family member or close friend. Not my husband or children. Not my dad or my sister or my brother. Not anyone in their families. And especially not my mom. I.Am.Not.Ready. But I know God has a higher plan. My mom has been sick since 1994. I've had 20 years with her that I may not have had. And I have not taken one thing for granted. Twenty years is a long time to battle with breathing problems and a multitude of other health issues. She is a strong woman. She is determined to live her life as she wants to. And to leave a legacy. I always thought I was more like my Dad, but I think I got some good stuff from my mom too.<br />
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Now I wonder about the curve ball. That bend in the road I wasn't expecting. With another surgery in my horizon and knowing I will weather this one alone, it's scary. But I think I have a little bit of my Momma in me. I will have it. I will endure. And I will move on. And through it all. I will be "fine" like she always is.<br />
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My mom is my hero. One of the most amazing women I know. One of the strongest individuals that ever walked this Earth. She is compassionate, sarcastic, sees the best in everyone, eager to laugh and try new things, loyal and loving. I hope I can be half the woman she is. I love you, Mom.<br />
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MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-11187259430026772402014-04-06T20:15:00.000-07:002014-04-06T20:15:12.306-07:00Do you ever find the need for quiet time? Time to just sit and exist without having to listen to the chatter of others, the drone of the TV or anything. I'm having a night like that. Where I wish I could sit outside (but I'd freeze to death), listening to the crickets chirp and the frogs croak from the pond in my parents back yard. Mentally, I'm putting myself there. Even though they have no working internet on their back porch, live in the boon docks....but you get the picture. I'm feeling the need to reground myself. To refocus. Only the people I need to refocus on are buzzing around me and I really just want the quiet time without their voices messing up my memory of childhood.<br />
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Parenting is hard work. Some days I feel like I have it all together, other days, I'm barely hanging on. Today has been just a regular day. Nothing bad. The big boys had their piano recital and it's always fun to go and listen to the kids and see the progress they have made. Another milestone we've reached together. I'm proud of them for sticking to piano even when they didn't want to. And I kinda laugh that it's my kids that take piano lessons when I was so hyperactive I couldn't sit on the bench to get through lessons at all. My sister was the piano player in our family and her kids don't play instruments at all. Ironic. :) But her girls do sing and dance. My boys are very musical and I love to share that part of my life with them. Kadin plays the piano and the saxophone. Cullen plays the piano, the trumpet, and the guitar. Liam wants to learn the drums and within a year will start the piano. We promised Elliana's birth mom that she would be exposed to the piano as well. I love to hear our home filled with music that they are creating. It reminds me of nature's song.<br />
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The big boys and Dave went to see God's Not Dead tonight. When Cullen got home, he wanted to tell me all about it. One part of it was someone being diagnosed with cancer. Being asked how they keep hope after having such a horrible diagnosis. And that makes me think of the people I know fighting stage 3 and stage 4 cancer. How they want to hear the words I have heard. "Cancer free" but their road is long, painful, and unfair. I feel guilty thinking how reoccurrence hangs over my head when I didn't really do the time for the disease anyway. Yes, I lost a breast. And it's stressful. And I worry. And I'm on medications. But these wonderful children and adults I know and love are dealing with so much more. I pray for their healing. For balance to be restored. For the reason that they are on this journey to be revealed to them so they know they do not walk alone. How do you keep hope? Because you trust that God has a plan. And since God lives on the inside, He can't help but shine through to the outside as well. But they all weigh heavy on my heart and soul.<br />
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So, I'm needing some quiet time. Away from it all. A time to contemplate and be thankful and to just exist. For in a few hours I will have to jump back in to the craziness of a new week. But for now, I'm feeling the breeze from the country air blow against my cheek, as the bull frogs croak their magical son that lulled me to sleep every night. With the security light shining brightly into my bedroom window, I listen closely to the sounds of the night. As the crickets sing a sweet song that makes you feel safe because they only stop if danger is near. But as long as they sing, all is right in the world. May they always continue to sing.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-57438989763447765642014-04-02T18:41:00.001-07:002014-04-02T18:41:14.743-07:00Six months ago.....Six months ago, on a day much like this one, a Wednesday to be exact, my life came to an abrupt stop. When I heard the words 'breast cancer' I wasn't sure what would come next. It seems unbelievable that it has been only six months since that day. Other times, it feels like a lifetime ago.<br />
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It makes me think of other things that throw our lives for a loop. Illness, job loss, death..... I've been ruminating about these things for several days. Thinking about how each of us have a struggle. Each of us have had bad news delivered in a small room, in a doctor's chair. Through mine, I've been thankful that I have a voice, and that I am willing to use it. So that other women and men do not have to walk this road alone.<br />
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Which also reminds me that April is Child Abuse Prevention month and how passionate I was about children and their safety when I worked in community mental health. It's also Autism Awareness month. Which reminds me of all of the hard work I did in changing programs in Ky and NC for children with this diagnosis. I had a voice. I used it.<br />
<br />
But today, a friends 5 year old daughter made me stop and think. So many times we talk about what we cannot do. What doesn't work right in our lives. What doesn't look good on our bodies. What exercises we can't do. How far we can't run. What we can't eat. When we should really focus on what we CAN do. And a small, red headed, spirited little girl had the best words in regards to her older brother. "Let's not talk about what he can't do. Let's look at what he CAN do." Because truly, this little 7 year old boy has moved mountains. He CAN do so much. And learns more and more every day. And with his sister beside him, there is nothing he CANNOT do.<br />
<br />
So in honor of this sweet 5 year old, I'm changing my mind set. I'm focusing on the things I can do. I can speak up for children who are being mistreated. I can support my friends who are dealing with an Autism diagnosis, or living with one. I can talk about mammograms and their life saving benefits. I can talk about raising boys and adoption. I can talk about so many things, sharing how God works in my life, and in those around me. And thankfully, how He works in the children around us.<br />
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I have a voice and will use it. Will you? Will you speak up and share your struggles so others know? So others feel less alone? I realize that this venue is not for everyone. There are people that are very private (obviously I am not one of them!). I respect that. But I am going to focus on what I can do, in a world full of can nots. And be thankful for a voice that allows me to share, and to be there.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-6137877132260062932014-02-16T06:27:00.001-08:002014-02-16T06:27:16.501-08:00Stay Positive!"How do you stay so positive? How do you reconcile the fact that you did nothing wrong, yet you had a cancer that if you hadn't caught early, it could have killed you. How do you go on? If it had happened to me, I would be sitting at home, depressed, unable to go on. How do you do it within yourself?"<br />
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Those words were asked of me last night at a United Way get together and they made me stop and think. Because honestly, I don't feel like I have been always upbeat and positive. I've cried, I've complained. I've stared at my old chest and now my new one many times and lamented what has come to be. I've changed my diet, changed it back, and then settled in to a moderation. I've taken meds that make me want to barf, and then meds to counter my craziness that make me want to barf, and through it all just moved forward.<br />
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Why? Because what else is there to do? I've been sad and scared for myself. I've cried over the old woman I may not become. I've broken into a sweat thinking I won't be there at my younger two kids weddings, or at any of them. I've feverishly written in their journals all of my hopes and dreams for them so they know if I were to pass on. But living, day in and day out, it happens.<br />
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My faith has been huge for me as well. I know God has a purpose. For everything that happens in our lives. People to touch, stories to hear…..they all entwine together and I look for those strands daily. If one person learns from my life, is touched by my story, finds strength for themselves, then this journey is doing what it was meant to do. Such as all walks in my life. I simply asked to walk in Grace.<br />
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I also know that I got off easy. Four months ago tomorrow I lost my right breast. And lymph nodes. And woke up cancer free. I have friends battling through so much more. I never forget that fact.<br />
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In eight months, at my one year anniversary, 5 friends and I will do our first Susan G. Komen 3 Day walk in Atlanta. 60 miles in 3 days. I've always wanted to do one, and now, as a survivor, I will. The impact of that is not lost on me. As we raise money, tell our stories, work together, and think about how we can do a few things long term, I am reminded of our basic needs. Food, water, shelter, others……and I know in my heart maybe that is how I make it through. I know I am not alone.<br />
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From Cullen's best friend's mom handing me a lapel angel silently, to my family being here, to the meals, to the cards, to the calls, emails, notes, through the support as we fundraise for this amazing walk, the hugs, the smiles, the other survivors who's strength I rely on….I have not been alone one step of the way. And it's hard to feel negative when you feel the love. So much love. And support. And prayers. And stories of hope. And peace. For God has me in his hands and even though I know not what will happen next, for now, I am here.<br />
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So I guess for me, there was no other option I considered than to stay positive, stay faithful, lean on others, ask for prayers, and to move forward. To make most days count. To exist in the here and now. To show that yes, this horrible ordeal happened to me (even though some days I can scarcely believe it!) but I came out the other side. And so can you. Because I will love you, support you, and hold your hand through it. And I bring along a slew of people who are holding my hand as well.<br />
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And in that fact, I find Grace.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-10836734858810627952014-01-14T14:52:00.001-08:002014-01-14T14:52:37.276-08:00Peace.Oh Lord, if my feet are meant to be on this path, then lead me. If I am meant to pause, help me find peace in the moment......<br />
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Peace in the moment. Peace. Today I had my follow up with the plastics dr. Dr. Terry McKatyn. He is a gem among men. A little quirky but not overbearing. And he listens. He did not do the lift surgery he wanted to two weeks ago. I chickened out. In order for him to do the lift, he would have had to cut around my nipple to move things up. Which would have compromised my blood flow. Which means IF I got cancer in my left breast. And IF it weren't close to the skin or in the nipple, THEN I couldn't have a nipple sparing, skin saving mastectomy like I had on the right. And I so want that surgery again if it comes down to it. So he just augmented. So the breast is off. The nipple is off, the size is off. But it was my choice. And I know why I made it. So we agreed. I see him in three months to double check things. And then when I am a 5 year survivor, I'll let him do the lift. ;) Deal.<br />
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I suddenly have a new lease on life. As if this surgery and these results were hanging over my head like an anvil ready to fall. But three months ago, I stood in this kitchen, on this computer, with cancer in my right breast. Two days later I had a mastectomy that removed it. Today I stand here cancer free. For now? Maybe. Forever? Maybe. But right at THIS moment, I am cancer free. I had cancer. Now, I do not. And I am going to live for that.<br />
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I am going to take my friend Crystal's advice and I am going to proceed with joy. That each milestone I DO make, I can mark them off the list. Eighth grade night. CHECK. First grade. CHECK. Potty Training a girl. Soon. But I will be here for many of them. I am a survivor. And a fighter. And I will move forward with positive thoughts. Because with those, my emotional well being will heal, and my physical strength will return.<br />
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For the past 2 days I have walked my 10,000 steps. Those steps that came so easily just a few months ago, are a struggle now. My body hurts, I'm tired. The medicine makes my joints ache. But I move on. Forward. To get those steps in. To get back my strength from before. To recapture ME for a time. I will succeed. In time.<br />
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For months I have floundered. How can I counsel people at work? How can I tell them how to eat healthy, to BE healthy and reduce their risk of medical conditions and cancer when I, myself, had cancer. Will they look at me differently? Will they think I know nothing?? And then a quiet voice on the phone tells me..."Since you know more about what my journey is like, I want your opinion..." and I realize, this walk was not one I did to myself. I did nothing concrete to cause breast cancer. I eat healthy. I work out. I maintain a healthy weight. I do not smoke. I have cut way back on my alcohol intake. But I got cancer. My genes and the environment made a situation in my body that became toxic. And cancer was the result. I will continue to do what I can to remove the chances of getting cancer again. It is all I can do. And all I can advise others. But in the meantime, I've decided I will live my life as well.<br />
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Is this journey over? No. I have a huge 3 day walk to make in October with five of the most amazing women I have gotten to know. I have survivors to meet. I have fighters to pray for. I have those who have been taken to celebrate. And I have four children and a husband that need me. This story is not over by far. Only ready for another chapter.<br />
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Peace. I think I have stilled my heart enough to find it. God was there with it all along. Only I kept darting away. Be still and know that He Is. And the peace will come to you, too.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-53552100051550285252013-12-26T19:14:00.000-08:002013-12-26T19:14:07.402-08:00Speak the UnspeakableI wonder if one should consider themselves a writer when different situations arise and they think..Hmmmm...maybe I should write this down. Or maybe I'm not a writer, myself, but a blogger of musings. Things that run through my head and tend to re-run until I actually do get them down on paper (or a blog). I'm not sure. All I know is that I have not felt ok in my own skin and I have had no idea why. Well, I mean, I know WHY but it seems like it should have been getting better, not worse. And then a friend who is a cancer fighter herself described how she was feeling and that her doctor told her it was normal. Normal. Let me explain....<br />
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Since before Thanksgiving I have felt itchy in my own skin. Almost like I am anxious but have no reason to be. Things need to be planned. I need to be in control. People need to comply. I flip from that side to the exact opposite...Oh, let them do what they want. Whatever works. I don't mind. I'm like a charlatan only no one knows which way the wind blows. Especially me. And constantly, this itching inside of me. This jumpiness that will not be calmed. I can't name it. And I can't figure out why no one else sees it. I feel like I am twitching from the inside out.<br />
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As Christmas approached, it got worse. My stomach was upset, my sleep interrupted. My days were found doing who knows what, cleaning the same thing, doing the same laundry, rearranging the same toys, moving things from here to there, all the while this jumpiness was going on inside me and starting to ooze out of me. I was short tempered. Intolerant. Seriously, could people have been any more stupid? Could the check out lady take any longer? Could people not drive? I thought I was going insane. I thought all of the sudden everyone had taken an ignorance pill and I was having no more of it. Then Dave reminded me that my medicine will make me short tempered and to be aware.....I tried to pull myself back under control. Even though the words weren't coming out of my mouth, they were running through my mind.<br />
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And yet, I still feel this itchiness. This jumping inside me. This desire to curl up in a fetal position and cry, or to hit someone, hard. Twice. Maybe to a pulp. I vacillate between the two so quickly I almost can't trust my own judgement. Am I going crazy? I think I'm going crazy. I.am.crazy. Only no one seems to notice. How can they not notice? I'm about ready to jump out of my skin!<br />
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It all comes to a head on Christmas Eve Eve at church. I sit there listening to this amazing performance, holding my antsy daughter who is feeding off my ping ponging emotions and I want to cry. I realize I am afraid I am going to die. That I have been given this wonderful life with this loving man and four outstanding children and I am going to die. I finally hold in my arms one of the biggest dreams come true in my life and I am going to miss her growing up. Because.I.will.be.dead.<br />
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In my mind, I always saw myself as an old, old lady when I die. At least in my 90's. I'll have lived a full life, still be sane of mind (yeah, right) and physically able to make it to Bingo in my assisted living home. And now, I feel cheated. I feel like my life has been cut short. BAM! The door on watching my children grow up is creaking shut. High school graduation. College graduation. Car buying. Drivers licenses. Buying a dress that my future daughter in laws like. Watching my daughter walk down the isle on her Daddy's arm, seeing Grandchildren, even great Grandchildren! Gone. Most of that feels far, far away, and unobtainable. Catastrophe in my own mind? Probably, but there it is.<br />
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The healing comes not after I tell not one, but four friends that I am losing my mind. My first friend is compassionate. She knows my journey and is there for me. But this is Christmas Eve Eve.....no one has time and I've decided I'm having a break down! The next two friends flit on about their nights and who can blame them? It's freaking CHRISTMAS! My fourth friend gets my tears. She holds me tight and then she does it. She puts to words what I am feeling. "Are you afraid you are going to die?" Oh.My.Goodness! Someone said it out loud. As tears stream down my face, I acknowledge it. Yes. I am afraid my days are numbered. That my Christmas's are limited. And I think back on when we adopted Elliana and I bought everything under the sun I could for her. To make up for the 10 years I didn't have her. Maybe I was really buying things because I wouldn't be here to give them to her. My sweet friend grasps my hands and my mind is running 1000 miles an hour. She looks me straight in the face as if she can read my mind. "God did not give you that baby girl just to take you away from her. You are going to live!" Later that night, another friend texts me out of the blue those same exact words. Unsolicited. As if she can see my soul in turmoil. "Our eyes will meet at your daughter's wedding and you will know I have spoken the truth. You will watch your children grow and you will dance at their weddings." Oh be still my soul. Find peace.<br />
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I know I have no reason to feel this way. I know that as I sit here, the cancer in my right breast is gone. I sit here cancer free, as far as I know. But three months ago I was walking through life without a worry that I had cancer in the first place. So, there is that running through my mind. I also know that I have a second surgery on Monday and I am afraid when they sample my breast tissue that they will tell me it is lobular as well and I will have to have another mastectomy. I know that God will carry me through, but for awhile, I felt like a hamster in a cage just running in circles.<br />
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Which brings me to what my friend's Dr told her. That feeling like this from Thanksgiving to Christmas is normal for cancer patients. That I will feel like this on some other dates too. And special anniversaries. This crawling out of my skin itchy-jumping-twitching will come and go through the years. That most cancer patients describe it. Anxiety. Anxious. Fear that the cancer is back. Or spreading. Or out of control. Because cancer is never IN our control. And that is still a hard topic to swallow. But hearing the word "die" out loud made it less scary and now I'm employing my friend's advice. "What's the worst thing that could happen?"<br />
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Yes, I could have a reoccurrence and die. But there are other things that are worse in this world to me. I could not know God as my savior and live a lonely life with no hope for salvation. I could not have a loving husband and four caring children. I could not have a wonderful extended family that loves me. I could not have a house or friends or money in the bank or I could lose a child. There are much worse things than dying and hopefully going to live in Heaven. To not rest in peace, but to live for eternity with Jesus.<br />
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I think I'm on the back side of this crazy loop. One I did not foresee. But I guess I will travel again. Until then I will put my trust and faith back in God. I know that each trial he gives me becomes a testimony for someone else to hear. So I'm speaking loud and clear1 This road is tricky! I will sometimes falter and fall. I'm scared a lot. And angry some. And even though my breast is gone and I'm back to normal activities, Cancer is still very much a part of my life. That, and the itchy-jumping-twitching.............<br />
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Onward! Stagger stepping, but moving forward such as it is.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-7317838604848004772013-12-22T18:10:00.001-08:002013-12-22T18:10:36.997-08:00Rocking........Tonight I rocked my baby girl. That in itself is not an uncommon event. We frequently rock before bed while I sing to her or tell her stories of her tiny life. Her short life. Her 22 months that are filled with wonder and joy. She is our dream come true. We tell her so often that she is pretty that she marches down the stairs saying "Pretty Girl....Pretty Girl...." She greets strangers by saying "Hi, Baby!" And when someone hands her something she replies "Thank you, Honey." Listening to her tell me that she is going upstairs with Daddy to change her diaper and get in jammies hit me in the gut tonight. Her tiny voice coming out of her sweet tiny body with her little smiles and her joy that just doesn't stop. It brought me to tears.<br />
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Today, a friend of mine said good bye to her little girl. Her tiny girl. Her not yet three little girl. Who had brain cancer and fought a long, hard fight. And although she is lost here on Earth, she won wings with Jesus in Heaven. My heart aches for her beautiful mother. Her strong, courageous parents who have never faltered in their walk of faith. Ellie's kind mother who before Ellie was sick knit Elliana shawls, purses, hats, and hair flowers. A woman who's life I by chance came into contact with, but who's life has changed mine. I once asked God that if I were ever met with such a trial, that I could be like Carly and walk with such utter acceptance and grace of God's love of me. I'm not sure I could continue that walk if I had to say goodbye to one of my children.<br />
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Facing the passing of Ellie then reminds me of how God sent his only son to Earth. To live, and yet to die. For me. I'm selfish. I don't want to outlive my children.<br />
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Which then brings me to my own mortality. If my breast cancer comes back. If my left breast is compromised. If it metastasizes. If I leave my family too soon. I always thought I would live a long life. I'd be an old woman when I finally died. But the reality is, we never know. I don't know. No one knows.<br />
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So tonight I rocked my darling daughter. wanting to soak up every moment with her as if it were our last, but thankful that we will more than likely wake up tomorrow. Taking time to remind myself to be patient with my jumping little boy who is so excited that Christmas is in three days! Finding joy in the annoyances. And peace in the quiet. And time to say special prayers to the newest angel of God's choir. Sweet Ellie. She will always be Princess Strong.<br />
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Love those around you. Find ways to help. Reach out and offer your skills. Stop and listen when people talk. Look them in the eye. Hear their stories. Be the light in the darkness, the encouragement others need. Be gentle with yourself. Say Thank You. Count your blessings. And rock your babies to sleep every night you can.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-89712414188473946162013-12-06T15:47:00.001-08:002013-12-06T15:47:35.810-08:00Feeding through CaringTonight for dinner I fixed a meal that was left over from when I had my mastectomy. It was a lasagna that we had only eaten half of so my mom wrapped up the rest and put it in the deep freezer for later. I pulled it out without a second thought tonight to feed my family on a cold winter's night.<br />
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As I looked around at my brood eating heartily I began to think more deeply about the meal they were eating. How it had been prepared in love for me. For my family. For those who were caring for me during a dreary and sad time. But also a time of hope. A lasagna has so many layers and ingredients that go in it. Each layer has to be laid and then another layer put upon it. It is a long process, not an easy meal to make.<br />
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I remembered how every day for two weeks food showed up at my home. EVERY DAY! Without fail. Food came through my home to nourish my healing body. Women I did not even know well took it upon themselves to provide one of the most basic needs of humans. And yet it did so much more.<br />
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Through feeding my family and myself, meals meant we were being thought of, cared for, prayed over. As tears filled my eyes, I thanked God again for the special woman who made this meal for me. I asked for His blessings over all of my friends who sent food or gift cards for food. And for my friend Amy who orchestrated it all. I am reminded once again, out of the blue, of my blessings.<br />
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Never take for granted those small gestures you do for someone. Although they may not be able to thank you in the moment, each action has a reaction within them. I have always thought of myself as a giving person, but I know I have not put a lot of thought into the act of giving. Trust me, every tiny thing is appreciated. I will think more about my acts of giving.<br />
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I can never repay those women who fed me and my family, and continue to do so. But I can let them know I will never forget their kindness. Their quiet support even when I didn't know who it was bringing the meal in the seclusion of my room. I am reminded again tonight of the love that surrounded me every moment. So if you were one that fed my family, Thank You. From the bottom of my heart. I will never forget it.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-88639992045642473352013-12-05T04:34:00.002-08:002013-12-05T04:52:37.163-08:00Here Again......It's been seven weeks since my surgery. Seven weeks, yet a lifetime. Last night, I slept on my right side for the first time. It was fitful sleep, cognizant of the fact I didn't want to go too far forward and squish the non boob, but it wasn't painful and that was a first. I'm slowly losing grip on the pillow I clutch under Ariel (doesn't everyone name their body parts?) when I sleep on my left side. For the most part, she no longer feels like she is going to rip out of my skin when I lay on my side. It's been an adjustment. I hear women tell me that have augmented their breasts, that the feeling is similar. And normal. And goes away, eventually. Good to know!<br />
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This week I am supposed to go and see my plastic's doctor (again) and have my final meeting before my next surgery on the 30th. I will also get to have 3D pictures taken for the blood flow study. I'm still really excited that I am a part of that study. With it, the breast surgeons and plastic surgeons are studying which type of two incisions have the best patient satisfaction with nipple sparing, skin saving mastectomies, and if they can do certain things to support the blood flow to the skin in order for more women who are candidates, can have this procedure. There are guidelines that a patient has to meet, of course, tumor size, positioning of the tumor from skin, non smoking, and a few others. I am eternally grateful that I met the requirements and I hope this study helps bring to the forefront a procedure that other women will benefit from as well. Emotionally, it has been better for me to have my same outsides. I know other women would benefit from it as well, if it's possible.<br />
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At the time of my next surgery I will also have a sample of my healthy breast tissue tested. I am hopeful it is not full of lobular tissue like my other breast was. If it is, even though there is no tumor present, there will be and that will mean further meetings and discussions on whether I should have a mastectomy on the left side as well. Hopefully, shortly after the New Year begins, I will know what that route will look like.<br />
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I once scoffed at someone who told me this journey would take a year. That next year, in October, my life would be different. I thought, no way will this take a year! Well, I believe that healing will take around that long. Not so much my physical healing, but my emotional healing. This bout with cancer has thrown me for a loop for sure.<br />
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On the outside, I am healing. My body is becoming more used to my new normal. My energy level is increasing. In a few short months I can get back into exercising. I am able to take care of my family again. I can lift things and move furniture. I am careful to ask for help. Or to put things off if it strains Ariel too much. I feel it if I have pushed myself too far and I am heeding my body's cues for once in my life.<br />
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But on the inside, I think I'm fine.....and then something will come up and I am not fine. I will hear of someone else's diagnosis and I want to crawl into a hole. Someone will complain about something that I consider trivial and I want to slap them upside the head. I see people treating those they love hurtfully and I want to go into lecture mode. Mostly I do a lot of talking to myself. That its ok to cry. It's ok to still be in wonderment that this happened. It's ok to be in awe of God that He healed me. It's ok, well, to not be ok sometimes.<br />
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Life is the same, but it is different. I do the same things. I still get irritated at 6th grade math. I still get frustrated with my teen's behavior. Whining from my 1 year old and 7 year old still make my teeth clench. But even though I still get angry, I am quicker to calm down. Less likely to harbor a grudge. More likely to walk away, or ignore conversations I would have jumped into head first a mere 3 months ago. I am grateful for those changes. A softening of sorts. A wanting to linger with friends to soak up those last few moments of their essence to keep with me always. It's a reflective time and I am learning a lot more about myself, and those around me.<br />
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Moving onward is the only thing I know to do. Muddling through this middle ground continues. The 9 years, 11 months, and 1 week of medication I have left to take. And as I tread water here, getting ready for the next step, I wonder.....when will I feel like I have come through the other side? Or will the rest of my life feel like this middle ground??? I'm hoping that one day, before my one year mark, that thoughts surrounding my breasts, fear over new aches and pains, doctor appointments, and constant behind the scenes worry won't mar every day. Maybe then, that will be considered the other side.<br />
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Until then, Onward!<br />
<br />MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3208883134330507392.post-75937014988429274862013-11-19T09:21:00.001-08:002013-11-19T09:21:12.703-08:00Day One DownStruggling. The feeling of walking through muck that sucks at your feet and makes each step seem like a monumental effort. Hearing voices that come from far away, even when the person speaking is four feet from you. The whooshing sound in your ears that takes precedence over anything else as your heartbeat sky rockets and you begin to sweat. How do you handle this? How can you rationally react when the rug has been ripped out from under you and the world as you knew it starts swirling away. Many people do different things. Me? I write. With paper in my lap and a pen in my hand, I can calm my racing heart, steady my breath, push away the nagging voices in my head, and concentrate on the matter at hand.<br />
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It reminds me of the day I went shopping for a sweater dryer to put in our guest bathroom when Dave and I lived in Wilmington, NC. It was mid October and I was 33 weeks pregnant with our first child. While shopping at Kmart, I felt the need to go to the bathroom. What pregnant woman doesn't? Especially in the last trimester. Thinking I still had some time before I needed to REALLY go, I continued to compare the sweater driers wondering if I wanted a wooden one or metal. Suddenly it felt like I was wetting my pants. Rushing off to the bathroom in a red shirt and white shorts, it seemed like the walkway there stretched out endlessly in front of me. As the door grew further and further away the quicker I waddled, I began to have labored breathing as wetness gushed down my leg. Finally reaching my destination and sitting down, that is when I noticed the blood. Everywhere. Through my white shorts, down my legs, pooling in my shoes. Cleaning up as best as I could, in that void-less emotional place, I rushed as fast as I could from the store, into my car, and headed for the hospital where Dave was on call. Who does that? Who wouldn't go to the front desk and ask for an ambulance? Who would go in their car to drive 8 blocks to the hospital while bleeding and pregnant when then they didn't have a cell phone? On the drive behind the oldest man on the face of the earth who drove 20 miles below the speed limit, I composed a letter to our son in my head. A heartfelt note to a child I knew I was losing, failing as a parent before I ever officially became one. A prayer of sorts of protection. With the whooshing sound of my heart echoing in my ears.<br />
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Thankfully, that story ended well with a healthy child two weeks later, but the feelings of that day remain. Etched forever in my mind. A memory that still brings back the fear and helplessness. I seldom wear white pants anymore.<br />
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Yesterday, as I sat in the Oncologist's office, I felt disassociated from myself. In the waiting room, we sit, all in a row, watching Let's Make A Deal. How ironic. Let's make a deal! Would you like box number 1, 2, or 3? Each box in this waiting room contains a life threatening illness. With it, you get radiation. Or chemotherapy. Or both. Or medication you will be on for ten years as if having your boob removed isn't memory scaring enough. I want another deal! I want healthy bodies! I want cures! I want clear scans and shrinking tumors. I want no child to ever be effected by this horrible disease. I want cancer eradicated. Can someone put that in a box? If so, I vote for that one over and over!<br />
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Instead, I sit in a room. In another pink gown. At least this one has purple flowers on it. I snap chat a picture to my friends. Me. Again. In pink. In a doctor's office. Someone else gets to see my chest. Whoo Hoo!! Talking to the oncologist is fine. He's a family friend. A trusted doctor of my husband. I know him. I've been to his home. I like him. I think I know what he is going to tell me. I may not need chemotherapy. But I will need to be on a hormone blocker. I've done my research. I know which one, I know how often, I know the side effects. I am an educated breast cancer patient. And then that rug gets ripped out again.<br />
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Radiation?? What?? I thought that was off the table? I thought because I chose to have the mastectomy that radiation wasn't an option. That is one of the reasons I chose to have a mastectomy!! Now it's back on the table? It is?? WHOOSH.....Frantically I grab for my notebook. I begin tossing things out of my purse in search of the elusive pen. Heart racing, breath quickening, sounds echoing, voices fading, I need my anchor. And then, finally, notes. I am a studious patient now. Writing down everything he recommends. Refocused, fighting back the tears. I have to remain alert. I am at this appointment alone. I need to know what decisions are being made in my health (oh, Lord! How did this happen?? Radiation? I thought that door was closed! Oh, God, please help me!! Keep me focused. Let me hear him, and not react emotionally. I need to HEAR his words.)<br />
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Rationally, I understand what he is saying. My tumor was 1mm from my chest wall. They want a 3 mm margin. I did not have that. There could still be microscopic cancerous cells lingering there. Just waiting to multiply and steal my life. Reoccurrence rates are higher. I get it. But what about my already constructed breast? Can it handle radiation? I've heard the horror stories. I know what damage could be done. I'm getting quite attached to this new non boob. I have surgery scheduled in a month to have the other one match. Now radiation? That puts off the augmentation for the other side. And what if it ruins my new breast? How will I handle that?<br />
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Dave's words come back in my head. This is not about my breast. Even though I have made it be that way. My focus in on my chest. How does it feel? How does it look? How did I lose my breast? When the focus should be on the fact I had cancer. Cancer! And now, I do not. My focus should be on the disease; on what has been saved, not on what was lost. I need to focus on the fact I had cancer in my breast. I lost my breast but I saved my LIFE. I will get through this next step as well. With God's grace.<br />
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Driving away from my appointment, I have my talk with God. I cannot cry, I have to walk into Dave's office to pick up Elliana. I have to go to the pharmacy and get my tamoxifen filled. A medicine I will be on for the next 10 years. And a baby aspirin. I cannot fall apart. Not yet, if ever. I have to march on. While driving to the pharmacy I hear God speak to me as my heart races. "Have I ever led you astray?" No. "Am I still in control?" Yes. "Do you trust me?" I walk in Faith not by Sight. Yes, Lord. This journey is in your hands. I trust you. "Then know, you do not go alone." Breathing in. Breathing out. And then my plea....God, please send an angel to let me know that whichever way this path winds, I will be ok. Let me touch someone who knows where I am. Please.<br />
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It's funny how God has worked in my life. I've learned that this is one way God shows me he is there for me. When I ask for angels, each time I have, He has placed someone in my path to reassure me in my walk. I trusted that when the time was right, he would reveal someone to me. Little did I know, she waited in the pharmacy for me. When leaving to put Elliana in the car, smile in place, heart heavy, a complete stranger walks to her car, then toward me, then to her car, then back toward me. I walk around the car to get into my seat and she determinedly walks back to me. "Hi, Kathy. You don't know me but......" Yep. A 14 year breast cancer survivor who had a lumpectomy, radiation, and chemo. A mother who feared she would not see her six children grow assured me, I would see my kids to adulthood and beyond. And that although we have never met, we had friends in common and she was praying for me. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for the angel you placed in my life who gave me a strong hug with tears in her eyes and tears streamed down my own face. The crooked axis in my life righted itself again. Onward we go.<br />
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Struggles. We all have them. We all endure them. Some share, others don't, but no one is immune. I write. It helps me sort things out. Others come up to strangers, totally out of their own comfort zone, because they have been pushed by our Heavenly Father. May I always listen to that voice that prompts me to reach out to others. Whether I know them or not. Lord, let ME be that person to someone else. Let me know when my story will help them. Guide me where you need me to be.<br />
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An hour later I get a call from my breast surgeon at Siteman. She and the Radiation Oncologist there are confident I do not need radiation. They feel they were able to get good, clear margins from taking some lining of my chest muscle. They do not recommend radiation. I am free to keep my appointment to augment my left breast. They will see me in six months. They remind me to take my hormone blocker and will call Dr. Oza in the morning. All is well.<br />
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And it is. All is well. Especially with my soul. And for that, I am eternally thankful. Day one of my cancer treatment is down. Moving onward! One day at a time.MotheringBoyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17336816423458457462noreply@blogger.com0