Making a Difference


It’s official. I’m in a magazine. And it’s exciting, weird, mind-blowing, and purely awesome.

With every blog I post, and every email I receive from readers who have been touched by my story, the more I want to share it. Thanks to a great friend of mine who works at the hospital I frequent, my story has been publicized. I can’t help but feel proud and happy that my battle has not gone unnoticed. That may sound boastful, but I truly mean it without any ego. It touches my heart to know that God didn’t just get bored one day and think, “I think I’ll spice up their lives by allowing her to get cancer!” (although, sometimes it does feel like the divine version of Emeril Legasse just went “BAM” with my life’s recipe). On the contrary, He allowed this diagnosis as a way of not only helping me grow and learn new perspectives, but to help others through their life’s diagnosis’. For those who have written me with similar stories of cancer, inability to carry your own child, and the many other struggles, I want you to know that I deeply appreciate it. It encourages me to know that through my story, you are receiving hope as well. If that’s all I gain through this adventure, I am satisfied.

I want to share my journey. I know I already have and will continue to through this blog, however, I feel called to something bigger than this. The fire is burning inside of me and my passion for helping others find hope and strength in their journeys is reaching new heights. I’ve mentioned it to a few close friends and family recently, and now seems like the right time to share it with the rest of you. Truth is, I feel called to speak. At small and/or big events and one on one settings- regardless, I feel like God has given me this story for a reason. I have said that since the beginning, and I still strongly believe it. God has given me this story to share, and my job is to read the pages.

Little tid-bit: I’m frightened of public speaking. I speak in public daily and I definitely can talk a lot (my husband will nod his head in agreement while reading this). Yet, standing alone in front of a group of people with all eyes on me is slightly intimidating. Granted, I haven’t spoken in front of a large group of people since high school. And, it’s not as if I’m sharing a story I know nothing about. This speech I know. This journey I’ve walked. This book I’ve read. There is no memorizing the dates and events that happened. It’s written in my brain permanently. And lately, when I think I can’t possibly do something, I always remind myself, “Chick, you freakin’ beat cancer. Of course you can do ____!” When it comes down to it, yes I CAN share the good news with people. Yes I CAN spread hope and shine light in the darkness. Yes I CAN tell people that no matter how shitty (no better word, folks) things get, you WILL fight your hardest and you are stronger and braver than you think. At the end of the day, it’s not about public speaking. It’s about sharing hope, spreading strength, and inspiring courage. Now, that I can do.

When everything is stripped away, it’s not about me, it’s about Him.

John 15:16-17 (ESV)

“‘You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you. These things I command you, so that you will love one another.'”

Obsessing Over Hair

Tonight, instead of watching the Broncos game (shame on me), I find myself obsessing over my hair. Let’s rephrase…my lack of hair. To be honest, it started coming back a few days ago. For those who are unfamiliar with hair re-growth after chemotherapy, let me use this time to inform you. When I say “it’s growing back”, in no way do I mean, “I have a full head of hair”. I’m not even sure I can legitimately call it “hair”, as it resembles peach fuzz more or less. When hair grows back after falling out from chemo, it comes in very soft and thin. Think: newborn hair. And although mine has started coming in, which I am grateful for, it’s still so very soft and fine. I really miss having a full head of thick, beautiful, long locks.

I realize I haven’t done a detailed post about hair, and haven’t shared many (if any) pictures about my hair loss process. To give you a better idea about my journey losing, regrowing, losing again, and now regrowing my mane, I’ll need to start at the beginning. For those who love pictures: buckle up, you’re in for a full-on illustrated story.

My locks in February 2012

Prior to my chemotherapy treatments, I had been growing my hair out. It was actually the longest it has ever been in my life. Ha! Kind of funny that when it was at it’s longest, it fell out. Let’s just say, I was totally diggin’ my hair seven months ago.

Volume…Glorious! February 2012

And then, two weeks to the day of starting chemotherapy treatments, my mop began to drop…literally. To the floor, and all over my pillow, and somehow my strands even found their way into my socks. True story. Hair loss from chemo doesn’t hurt. In fact, when it first happened, it was comical. I could run my hands through my hair, and chunks of it would come out. I even asked my husband to take a turn and pull some out. He was shocked that he could literally rip a fist-full of blonde right out of my head. Hilarious! (I guess you had to be there.) Washing my hair became pointless. In the midst of shampooing, the strands that fell out would mix themselves up in the suds and “left-behinds”, and turn into a knotted, gnarly mess. Check out how much hair I would lose in the shower…

No, that’s not a joke. Hair loss from ONE shower. March 2012

People who lose their locks due to chemotherapy deal with the loss differently. Some shave it off before it begins to fall out, while others wait until they only have a few strands on their head. As for me, I waited until I could no longer deal with having hair all over everything. It became so annoying. Hair on my clothes, in the sheets, on my pillow, in the car, and on my husband. I was very ready to just get rid of it. However, strange as it may sound, I saved all of it. Well, all the strands I could find. Yes, that means I went through the sheets, pillow, and clothes on a daily basis and picked all the hair off to place them into ziploc bags. That sounds so weird, but I really did it. And just to creep you out a little more… I have four bags full of my hair in one of my dresser drawers. Check out Exhibit A-

Smallest bag o’ hair. March 2012

When I had finally had enough, my husband and I had a head-shaving party. He shaved mine, I shaved his. It was one of the most intimate parties I have ever been to. Besides our dear friend (and photographer), it was just the two of us. I was scared, excited, sad, and nervous. Scared, because shaving my head forced me to have a visual reminder every day that I was fighting cancer. Excited, because I couldn’t wait to get rid of my worthless mane. Sad, because deep inside, I really didn’t want to give up my locks. And nervous, because I had never been bald before.

Sadness and grief. March 2012

Shaving my head symbolized me taking control over my situation. I was not going to let cancer continue to take pieces away from me daily. I would grab this ruthless monster by the throat and do things on my terms. When I passed the grief and tears, I became elated. I had conquered my hair loss by taking matters into my own hands, and I would conquer cancer.

Take that, cancer. March 2012

Pretty soon, I was baldalicious. And, frankly, I didn’t mind it. Having no hair meant that many minutes were knocked off my morning regimen. No hair to blow dry, flat iron, or curl. There is a bright side! Plus, I’m sure my husband appreciated that I was spending less time in front of the mirror each day.

First time seeing myself bald. March 2012

Once I completed my first three rounds of chemo and began my radiation adventure, I was put on a different type of chemotherapy. This specific type of chemo didn’t promote hair loss, so during the six-plus weeks of my radiation/chemo regimen, I actually grew hair back. Many of my family and friends were excited for me, however, I knew it wouldn’t be there to stay. As odd as it may sound, I would have preferred to have no hair throughout the entirety of treatment, as opposed to losing it, regaining it, and losing it once more. It sucked seeing my hair grow back, only to know that it would fall out again in a matter of weeks. I did enjoy being able to run my hands through my hair again, though.

Hair regrowth during radiation. July 2012

Again, after ending radiation and beginning my last three rounds of (hair loss inducing) chemotherapy, it was time to shave my head. My husband viewed himself as a head-shaving professional at this point. And I must admit, I agreed with him.

Head shaving party #2. July 2012

Since I ended my treatment last month in August, I have been extremely excited for my hair to come back. This time, I know it’s for real. This time, I know I’ll be able to keep it and not have to give it up again. Compared to how quickly my hair grew back in May, April, and June, it seems to be coming back slower this time around. Maybe I’m wrong. I could just be overly anxious to start growing my locks again. Let’s see. I’ve gotta do some math…It took thirteen weeks for my hair to get to the length it was in the above pictures. I am currently at almost five weeks since my last treatment. Damn. I guess it’s not coming in slower, I am just overly anxious. Can you blame me, though?! Although many would still view me as bald, I know my hair is growing back. Like I said, it’s not much hair right now, more so just peach fuzz, but it still counts. This gorgeous mane has to start somewhere!

The truth is, tonight I’ve been obsessing over my do, or lack thereof. I’m tired of being bald. I’ve spent the majority of my life obsessing over my hair, making sure it was just the right style and color. Now, I’m just obsessing over the fact that there is no do. I even searched “hair growth after chemo” to get some insight as to what my various “hairstyles” will look like as my mane grows out. I’ve watched time-lapse YouTube videos of hair growth. I’ve read other women’s blogs. But, the more I obsess, the more I realize I need to be patient. Not only patient, but proud. I am cancer-free, and my lack of hair is a visual reminder of the battle I have fought to rid my body of the monster. I am proud. Very proud. Just not so patient. Shoot.

It comes down to this: I’d much rather be alive and bald, than dead with a lot of hair. I’m so ready for what He has planned for me next.

Isaiah 43:18-19 (MSG version)

“’Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? There it is! I’m making a road through the desert, rivers in the badlands.'”

Drumroll, Please…

Stephanie and Matt, February 2012

Last Friday (8/24), I went to the hospital to get a PET scan. This was my second scan of this kind, the first being exactly seven months ago. Besides being the same procedure, this one was drastically different than my first scan, which you can read about here. Why was this one different, you ask? Well you see, in January I knew I had cancer, and was receiving the imaging to determine where and how far the cancer had spread. A week ago, I received the imaging to determine if, after all my treatment, the cancer was demolished. Waiting for results is the worst part of the process. Although God has been teaching me patience throughout my entire life, specifically during this journey, I haven’t yet mastered it. Let’s just say, I am not a fan of the waiting game.

Waiting truly is the hardest part. Whether it’s waiting for results for an important exam, waiting for paperwork to go through on purchasing a home, or waiting for doctors to tell you cancer is or is not present in your body, it’s still difficult. In the stillness, your mind is more capable of wandering off onto paths you thought you blocked off. I’ve had five whole days to battle against doubt. So many thoughts have run through my head. But over these last few days, I’ve learned that my thoughts are a choice. I can either choose to let doubt flood into my brain and infect all aspects of my being, or I can look forward and keep my thoughts fixed on the end goal. My end goal is to be cancer-free. And I will be.

Sometimes it’s hard to fight those thoughts of fear and doubt, but I’ve found that I am meant to rest in God. Only in Him can I find authentic relief. I was not created to fight this alone. None of us are. He has reminded me of that greatly throughout these past five days. On Sunday, pastors from South Africa came to speak at our church. I was amazed at how God used this man to speak directly to me. The message was titled “Hold On.” And one major point that stuck out to me was: “God’s delays are not God’s denials.” I’ve actually heard that saying twice since diagnosis from two separate sources. He’s obviously wanting me to absorb it! Holding on is all we have to do when things get rough. When you think you can’t possibly keep your grip any longer, find your strength in Jesus. He will give you rest. “Blah, blah, blah,” you may be thinking, but give it a shot. I promise you won’t be disappointed. But always keep in mind, our timing is not God’s timing. Be thankful for that; His timing is never wrong.

Like I mentioned, I’ve waited since last Friday to receive my PET scan results. I can finally announce, the waiting is over. I received a call from my nurse at my Radiation Oncologist’s office a little bit ago. She happily informed me that my scan came back… drumroll, please… “clear!” Praise God! After asking her if there were any possible traces of cancer in my body, she responded with “the scan shows absolutely no evidence of malignancies anywhere.” In English, this means there is no cancer in my body. None. I can proudly say that these last six months of treatment have worked! (Cue applause, hoots and hollers, jumping up and down, and tears of joy!) I am elated.

Where do things go from here? Realistically speaking, I am nowhere near the end of this journey. Not until I reach five years of clear, cancer-free scans will I be considered “in remission.” Until then, I will continue to get pelvic exams every three months, and PET scans every three to six months. This adventure isn’t over, and like I’ve talked about before, this next part of the story might indeed be harder than the beginning; The battle of protecting my mind from doubt is on. I will be fighting against the statistics of Neuroendocrine cancer. It’s gnarly. It’s aggressive. It can come back. I will most definitely have ups and downs, good days and bad days, but I will persevere. My hope is in Jesus. And He has promised to never disappoint. I’ll say it again, with Him, I will defeat this.

I’ve been asked several times how I’m feeling now that treatment is complete. After my blood transfusion, things have been on the up and up. I’m feeling more and more like ME with every day that passes. I’ve told Matt he has his wife back, and he’s pretty stoked about that! My energy is coming back, my body is starting to cooperate with me, and I no longer wake up and think “is today a good day or a bad day?” Most days prove to be great days. I haven’t touched on it much, but I gained quite a bit of weight during chemotherapy. In fact, I was shocked when the numbers on the scale continued to increase with every treatment. It’s actually not uncommon. Truth is, after I got diagnosed and was told what treatment I would be undergoing, I literally thought, “YES! Chemo-diet! It’ll be great to lose a few pounds!” How silly and naive of me. Chemotherapy is known to shut off your metabolism. Frankly, it throws your whole body out of whack. Yes, some people lose weight. A lot of people simply lose their appetites. As for me, I definitely didn’t. Nurses say it’s a good thing, however my scale says otherwise. Since my hysterectomy, I have gained about 25-30 pounds. Yuck. With the whacked metabolism, lack of energy, and extreme body pains, I was unable to be very active. Think couch potato. However, now that I am regaining more and more energy every day, I have been able to be more active.

Many of you can understand what gaining unwanted weight feels like. It sucks. And I really don’t like the way my body looks with these extra pounds clinging on. So, I’ve told myself, “if you can fight and beat cancer, you can whip your ass into shape, girly.” Ok, so I left the girly part off… whatever, that’s not the point. Since Wednesday, (8/22) I have been extremely committed to losing this extra weight and getting back into the shape I was before diagnosis. Hopefully I’ll be in better shape than before the craziness began! My commitment means working out five days a week (typically at 5:30am, yikes), and eating very clean. Thankfully I have my husband who is my teammate and accountability partner. Many of you know I am a vegetarian and have been for the past four years. I was vegan for an entire year, but that’s a totally different story. Don’t get me started. But although I’m a vegetarian, I’m a carboholic. I love carbohydrates. This new weight loss commitment has entailed me ridding myself of most carbs. I eat tons of fruits, vegetables, and find my protein in things like eggs and nuts. I can proudly say that what I’m doing is working! I’ve lost seven pounds already. My goal is to lose twenty pounds by the time Matt and I head to California for our “cancer-free” vacation in thirty days. I’ll keep you updated on my progress, and look forward to fitting into and wearing the jeans I wore eight months ago.

Oh, by the way, if you missed it… I’M CURRENTLY CANCER-FREE!

Romans 5:3-4 (NIV)

“Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

We’ve come a LONG way! Stephanie and Matt, August 2012

Blessings Through Blood

I am smiling from ear to ear. Fact is, I have been since 8:30am. Today is the first day in a LONG time that I have had true energy. I almost forgot what it felt like. I have become so used to only being able to do one “big” thing a day; i.e.: shower, vacuum, attend church, etc. Today was different. Today, God blessed me through blood.

Thank you all for praying for my transfusion, it went very well! Although we were at the hospital for about five hours yesterday, God had his hand on the whole thing. I’ve mentioned before that God has been sending down gifts along this journey, and yesterday He sent along quite a few. My attending nurse was a true angel, a grandmotherly type, and simply amazing. And, I loved her name. She was perfect for my visit in the hospital, and Matt and I both enjoyed her dearly. She was warm, welcoming, and attentive, and she continued to refer to me as “sweetheart,” “sweetie,” “honey,” and “beautiful.”  This sweet nurse made our stay very comfortable and easy, and when receiving a transfusion for the first time, that’s exactly what you want your nurse to do. It was the best experience it could have possibly been. God weaved the whole thing together. I’m thankful that He has a tendency of doing that!

Because I’m sure many of you are wondering what the procedure for a transfusion is like, I’ll explain. It’s actually quite simple. Once I was led to an available room, I sat in a very comfortable recliner. Matt took a seat next to me, and my lovely nurse then accessed (aka: inserted the needle into) my port. She then went to retrieve the specific blood being donated to me. Once she returned, bag of wonderful red blood cells in hand, she announced that it came from Omaha, Nebraska. We weren’t even expecting to know anything about the donor of my blood, yet knowing where it came from eased some of my lingering fears. After my nurse connected me to the IV bags (both red blood cells and saline), she pushed a few buttons on an attached machine. This machine regulated how quickly the blood would be pushed through my body. I received two “units,” or simply IV bags, of red blood cells. When the first was complete, she attached the second, and it was as non-complicated as that. My job was fairly easy. Sit in the recliner and take it all in. Like I said, I was at the hospital for about five hours. Easy peasy.

Special note to the donor in Omaha: I sincerely thank you for volunteering and generously donating your blood. It helped me tremendously. And for other generous people who donate blood, thank you from those of us who so desperately need it.

Having energy is something you shouldn’t take for granted. And to be even more specific, having healthy and abundant blood cells is something to thank God for. Believe me, when your cells are low, it sucks. My reds were obviously extremely low, and the only way to improve them was to receive this transfusion. I’m extremely happy that I stopped being stubborn and just submitted to what my body was telling me. If you are ever in a position when a blood transfusion is an option or possible necessity, do it. It’s worth it. Today I got my life back. Albeit I’m not 100%, but my energy was noticeably increased. Before this transfusion, for the past couple months, I could walk up the stairs and would immediately need to sit down and rest because I was so out of breath. Red blood cells transport oxygen, and when they are lacking, so is your oxygen. Today, I woke up feeling great, so Matt and I took Scout to our favorite dog park. She about jumped out of the car in excitement over this trip… Poor thing, she hasn’t gotten out much since my energy has been so non-existent. I can proudly announce that we walked two miles while Scout played. Yes, you read that correctly… Two miles! And I survived! I haven’t walked that long since the very beginning of my treatment. And it’s definitely not for a lack of trying! I nearly cried when we were done. My energy has been confining me to our home, so being able to get out without being utterly exhausted was a huge feat. I’m so proud of myself.

We not only walked two miles, which was plenty for one day, we also went grocery shopping. I’m sure it sounds odd, but the amount of energy it takes to grocery shop is more than you’d think. And when just walking up the stairs wears you out, the last thing you want to do is walk around a grocery store for an hour. I can’t believe we did all that today. I can’t believe did that! Needless to say, this blood transfusion helped me considerably, and if ever my red cells get low again, I’ll be opting for one a lot quicker!

I look forward to continuing up this hill and can’t wait to keep getting better and better. It’s so nice to know that I don’t have any more treatment! Praise God.

P.S.- “GO BIG RED” has a whole new (and much bigger) meaning now!

Malachi 4:2 (The Message)

“‘…The sun of righteousness will dawn on those who honor my name, healing radiating from its wings. You will be bursting with energy, like colts frisky and frolicking. And you’ll tromp on the wicked. They’ll be nothing but ashes under your feet on that Day.’ God-of-the-Angel-Armies says so.”

Lasts and Firsts

I am done with cancer treatments!! I officially finished my last chemotherapy session about eight days ago, and I can’t begin to express my thankfulness that it’s finally over. As I was sitting in the recliner receiving chemo for the very last time, I realized it was six months (to the day) since my hysterectomy. Six months typically doesn’t seem like that much time, but I can tell you, these past six months have been the longest in my life. It’s amazing what a journey this truly has been and will continue to be. I can now proudly say that I went through a total of 26 chemotherapy treatments, 24 radiation procedures, and 1 radical hysterectomy. All that in half a year. Yes, I’m a badass.

I have found myself with such a variety of emotions since treatment has ended. Of course, the biggest being happiness and gratitude that treatment is complete. However, there are several other feelings that I wasn’t ready to experience. I guess I just wasn’t sure what to expect from myself. Although I was extremely excited to be done having poison invade my body, the fear of not having poison in my body plagued me, and still sometimes does. Truth is, in the midst of chemotherapy and radiation, I settled in the fact that doctors had prescribed me one of the most aggressive treatment regimens out there. In fact, chemotherapy has been constantly coursing through my body since March. And for about six weeks, laser beams were shattering my insides, as well. Oh, and not to mention, most of my internal lady parts were removed. I’ve been able to trust that even if there were microscopic cancer cells anywhere inside of me, that all of the hours of treatment I’ve received have most likely decimated them. Cancer hasn’t had a chance. My body has been undergoing a physical war for a long time, and for a while it’s job was to just make it through. Now that it has, my body’s only requirement is to recover. And, oddly enough, recovery is turning out to be a bigger battle than treatment. It’s now more of a mental game. I can allow my body to rest, but it’s increasingly difficult to turn my mind off.

People often ask, how do you do it? Besides the obvious answer being, I don’t have a choice, the prevailing response is, my faith. My faith in doctors can only go so far, and when it ends, my faith in God takes over. Yet, in some moments, my faith is small and my fear and doubts are big. Sometimes I find myself worrying about my future scans. If I have an unusual pain somewhere, I fear that the cancer has spread. What if it comes back? What if chemotherapy and radiation didn’t take care of it? What if August 8th wasn’t my very last day of treatment? These are common questions inhabiting a portion of my brain. These are thoughts that the devil is trying to convince me of. Now that I’ve battled this disease, I have to battle these thoughts. And, wow… it’s hard. I constantly remind myself of how strong I have become and that I have a shield of armor protecting me. His name is Jesus. I did my part, and He has promised to do His. He tells me to have faith, even as small as a mustard seed, and nothing will be impossible for me. Truthfully, some days all I have is the size of a mustard seed. And do you really know how small that is? A mustard seed is only one to two millimeters in diameter. That’s tiny! Yet, when that’s all I have, it’s enough.

Faith doesn’t just exist. Faith is a verb. Faith is an action. Faith is a choice. Faith is a requirement to stand up and believe in something that seems impossible. I believe that God has healed me. I have faith that He will not let cancer invade my body any longer. But, my story isn’t over. This adventure isn’t complete. Although I can rejoice that I no longer have to endure cancer treatment, I still have a battle every day.

My body hasn’t recovered as quickly as it has before. This last cycle of chemo was, by far, the hardest. My skin hurts to touch and my body aches from the inside out. I’m extremely weak, and most of my musculature has atrophied. I constantly feel dehydrated, but my stomach is always bloated. I have an ongoing dull headache. On Tuesday, I went in for a followup blood draw. Remember how my red blood cell count was extremely low last time? It’s even lower now. Although I stealthily avoided a blood transfusion these past few weeks, my body just can’t function at this point without one. So, tomorrow morning I will head to the hospital to receive the gift of someone else’s red blood cells. I feel a lot more confident about receiving a transfusion now because my doctor answered many of my questions, yet I am still nervous. Firsts are always nerve-wracking right? I will be receiving two units of red blood cells and the transfusion should take from four to six hours. Most patients who receive blood notice an immediate change and feel much better; I’m hoping for the same. Today I went in for a “type and screen” blood draw. This will ensure that the blood I receive will be compatible to my own. Please pray that I receive perfect blood tomorrow and that it will allow and promote my body to begin producing more of its own red cells. I am more than ready to start feeling better.

Many of you have asked what my life will look like from here on out. After this transfusion is out of the way, next Monday I will get my blood drawn again to check that my levels have gone up. After that, I will see my Oncologist for a physical exam every three months. In addition, I will get my blood drawn every six to eight weeks to make sure my levels are in healthy range. The nurses will also use that time to flush my port. My doctor has told me that I can have my port removed whenever I’d like, but for personal reasons, I have chosen to keep it in for at least the next six months. For the next couple years, I will receive a PET scan every three to six months. And once I reach two years free of cancer, I will then go to having a scan every six months. When I reach five years cancer-free, my doctors will then declare me in remission. Because the type of cancer that invaded my body was so aggressive and rare, my doctors say that if I can make it to two years without any recurrences, it most likely will not ever come back. As we all know, there are no guarantees in life, but oh man, I can’t wait for 2014!

Don’t fret, I will continue to write and update my blog. Hopefully, you’ll start seeing cancer fade and my life start spicing up again! Thank you all for your continued prayers and support. Like Coach George Karl says, “It takes a team!”

Matthew 17:20 (ESV)

“…For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.”

Red Counts and Blood Transfusions

I’ve promised to tell you the truth and not sugarcoat it. Well, here it is. Cancer still sucks. These past few weeks have been rough. In fact, as I write this, I have a horrible stomach-ache. It’s not your everyday, run of the mill stomach pains either. It feels as if all of the food I consumed over the last week is sitting at the base of my ribs. When it decides to travel through my digestive system, it punches every inch of intestines. My whole core aches. My mouth is sour. Gross, huh?

An ER visit, multiple infections, and dropped blood levels have all plagued me this past month. Not to mention the typical overall crappy feeling that haunts most of my days. Let me add, I really hate to complain, but I would be doing a disservice to myself and all of you if I were to act like everything was fine all the time. Every cancer journey has its share of ups and downs, it just seems that the end of my treatment road has had more potholes than smooth pavement. However, I do know it could be worse, and I have been blessed throughout even the most difficult moments. I’ve got to keep reminding myself of that.

My trip to the ER brought eye-opening results. It’s amazing what cancer treatment can do to your body. It boggles my mind that something that decimates the inside of my tissues, cells, and organs can be, at the same time, saving my life. A few weeks ago, after on-going, not ceasing, severe kidney pain, my sweet husband took me to the emergency room. Can’t we all agree that emergency rooms aren’t the most fun place to be in the hospital? I’d much rather be on the labor and delivery floor! So I digress… After a blood draw and culture, urine analysis, physical internal exam, and CT scan, it was determined that I had Hydronephrosis and a very low white blood count. (So you don’t have to leave my page to scan Wikipedia for a definition, I’ll share it with you. Hydronephrosis means essentially, fluid in and around the kidney.) In addition, my white blood count was at a staggering .42. To understand how truly low that is, I can tell you that the normal range is anywhere from 4 to 11. This obviously alerted and perplexed my nurses. My white blood count had never gotten that low throughout all of chemotherapy and radiation. I can tell you with deep sincerity, I felt like shit.

As most ER visits go, we were there most of the day. Although, like I mentioned before, through even the hardest times, God has blessed me. We were at the same hospital that I receive all of my regular treatment at, and the one at which all of my doctors practice. Therefore, my attending nurse was able to call and chat with my oncologist about my symptoms and test results. Worst case, my oncologist was just a short walk away from being by my side. For that, I’m grateful. God always works things together for my good. After many hours of chit-chat between the nurses and my oncologist, they determined that I should probably be admitted. In fact, I was able to speak to my doctor and she said they even had a room saved for me. I can’t even begin to express how much I did NOT want to stay the night at the hospital. I didn’t care if they had a suite reserved! The nurses got my point, and I can proudly say, my stubbornness won out. I was eventually discharged with the orders that I turn right around if my pain got worse and if I got a fever. Luckily, neither happened. Well, not the fever at least.

I have been pretty in-tune with my body as I have grown up. In fact, it’s saved my life. Had I not continued to press for answers and made several trips to multiple doctors, only God knows where I would be right now. Although my cancer was treated at stage three, it could have been worse. Because of my oneness and understanding of my body, I’m able to know when my blood counts get low. Some people don’t have a clue, but as my knowledge for how my body works and is affected by treatment, I can nearly pinpoint what levels are down. For instance, I can tell you that today my reds are suffering. When my whites are low, I feel like I have a bad case of the flu. Complete with body aches, skin sensitivity, and a general “sick” feeling. When my reds are low I feel like a fat kid trying to run a marathon. I’m always out of breath, and simple things like taking a shower or walking up the stairs feel like a two-hour intense cardio workout. Needless to say, I haven’t showered today. Pounding headaches are also common when my reds are lacking. Good news is, there is a benefit of learning how to be harmonic with your insides. When you know what’s wrong, you know how to better treat it. That’s unfortunately another downside of treatment. When my blood levels are down, there’s not much I can do. Treatment for low white blood cells are the self-administered shots you have heard me distastefully talk about. Luckily, they typically work great to boost my whites. However, reds are trickier. And boy, have I discovered that recently. One of the main prescriptions for low red blood cells is a blood transfusion. If you have known anyone who has been through chemotherapy, you know that transfusions are common. I’ve been blessed to not even have had a conversation with my care providers about a blood transfusion…until this week.

A week ago I had a regular follow-up blood draw. This is not uncommon. In fact, the week after every chemotherapy round, my blood gets drawn in order to watch and better regulate my levels and prevent them from getting too low. It goes without saying, that I’m at the hospital nearly every single week, if not multiple times weekly. This past blood draw, all of my levels were lower than expected. Especially my reds. Most definitely my reds. They were low enough that my nurses brought the words “blood transfusion” into the conversation. They gave me two choices, receive a transfusion in the next few days, or wait it out and see if they came up naturally. Never having a transfusion before, and being given those two options, you can probably guess what my decision was. Correct. Let’s just wait and see! After all, I’m so close to the end of treatment, and I would like to avoid a procedure like that any day. A few days later, I went back in to get another draw. My red blood count didn’t come up enough. According to my nurses, a blood transfusion was the best and only option at this point. To say I was scared would be an understatement.

To be redundant, blood transfusions are fairly common during chemotherapy treatment. They are used for a wide variety of other ailments as well. The procedure consists of transfusing a donor’s blood into the patient in order to replace and improve lost components of the patient’s blood. I like to think of it as someone else giving me their blood cells to team up with mine, and in turn help me feel better. When thinking about the procedure itself and knowing how many people need transfusions to boost their red blood cells (approximately 85 million units of blood are transfused every year), a deeper sense of gratitude has been born in me. So, if you’re on the fence about donating blood, do it. It can help people like me feel a whole lot better! Although there are many obvious and immediate benefits of receiving a transfusion, it still scared me to think about it. Never learning about them before caused many fearful thoughts to race in my head. “How do I know the blood they put in my body is not infected or diseased?”, “Is it going to hurt?”, “I don’t want someone else’s blood mixing with mine!”. And, although I trust my nurses completely, I wanted to hear my oncologists view on the procedure and called to leave her a message. You know you have a good doctor when they call you back after office hours and after a long day of surgery, to answer your questions and calm your nerves. My doctor and I talked in length all about the procedure. She not only explained that the risk of contracting any disease is less than 1%, but that it’s a fairly easy process. In fact, the hospital has an out-patient blood transfusion wing. In addition, she said that because of my age, and because my symptoms aren’t too severe, I could probably avoid having one altogether. She explained that my chemo nurses are typically quick to recommend transfusions because they understand how much better the patient feels after receiving one. It’s a good thing to have nurses who want you to feel better. I’m just thankful that my doctor believes in me and my body’s ability to recover quicker than that of someone older. Age is in my favor again! She did, however, explain that if my levels haven’t naturally risen by the time I have chemotherapy next Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, that I will need to get one. I’m fine with that, doc! Please pray with me that God drastically multiplies my red blood cell counts by Monday. I know He can do it. He is for me, not against me.

With all of this being said, I am going through an intensifying battle. My journey has only gotten harder and harder. I’d like to say it’s rare to experience this, but unfortunately chemo has proven with many, if not all patients, to be cumulative. I knew that fact going into it, but it’s a different story when you are in the midst of the storm. The end is the most difficult; for many reasons. I know my last treatment is less than a week away, and that’s so exciting, don’t get me wrong. However, the pain and discomfort is mounting and sometimes it takes everything in me to overlook my physical despair and focus on the light at the end of the tunnel. Being a Christian isn’t easy. It doesn’t guarantee a pain-free and easy life. In fact, I believe it’s harder to follow God than follow the world. It requires accountability. It requires faith. Faith itself means “complete trust or confidence in someone or something.” When I get emotionally down, which I continually fight against daily, God convicts me. Do I or do I not have faith? Taking one day at a time, today I’m choosing to say, “I do.”

Psalm 42:5-8 (The Message)

“Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul? Why are you crying the blues? Fix my eyes on God- soon I’ll be praising again. He puts a smile on my face. He’s my God. When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse everything I know of you. From Jordan depths to Hermon heights, including Mount Mizar. Chaos calls to chaos, to the tune of whitewater rapids. Your breaking surf, your thundering breakers crash and crush me. Then God promises to love me all day, sing songs all through the night! My life is God’s prayer.”

“Someday You Will Dance Light-Footed”

I’m nearing my second to last treatment, and I can’t help but to be excited. My devotional today (Jesus Calling by Sarah Young) hit such a tender chord in my heart. I’ll share it with you…

“Keep walking with Me along the path that I have chosen for you. Your desire to live close to Me is a delight to My heart. I could instantly grant you the spiritual riches you desire, but that is not My way for you. Together we will forge a pathway up the high mountain. The journey is arduous at times, and you are weak. Someday you will dance light-footed on the high peaks; but for now, your walk is often plodding and heavy. All I require of you is to take the next step, clinging to My hand for strength and direction. Though the path is difficult and the scenery dull at the moment, there are sparkling surprises just around the bend. Stay on the path I have selected for you. It is truly the path of Life.”

God has given me such grace for this journey, and I can’t help but continue to take one step at a time and look forward to the future. No, this is not the path that I, nor my husband, would have chosen for our lives. But, I often find myself celebrating that His path for us is so much greater than we could have ever imagined. Like God tells us, life is going to downright suck sometimes; It’s going to knock us down and drag us through the mud. But all He requires of us is to have faith. True, unabandoned faith. Cling to Him for strength and guidance. If we do our part, He will do His. Keep climbing the mountain, because you are not alone. He is your hiking partner and coach. When you think your legs are about to give out and when you run out of water, He will restore you and quench your thirst. And keep in mind the final goal: to be dancing “light-footed on the high peaks!” What a great visual this devotion today has given me. It’s incredibly easy to slide into the emotional and mental pit and begin thinking of the horrible things that could happen. Friends, I’m not oblivious to the facts of my diagnosis. I am fully aware that I could very well die during this battle. But that’s not what I choose to focus on. In fact, like in this message by Sarah Young, God calls me to focus on something so much greater. Greater than I am sometimes able to fathom. And, by standing in faith and continuing to turn the pages of the story God has written for me, He will reveal the surprises He has prepared for me “just around the bend”. I welcome you to believe with me that I will be fully healed here on Earth. Believe with me that one of the biggest surprises He has planned for me is life, a multiplied family, and a story to share down here. Cancer will not overcome me. God created me for more than this.

I have such a burning passion and overwhelmed heart for children. Children of my own. And for most of my life I believed that my “own” meant flesh and blood, biological, from my womb. But as I turn these pages of the story, I learn more and more that my husband and I will walk down a path we never would have imagined for ourselves. Biological children might not be our story. However, they might be with the help of a gestational carrier. Truth be told, God only gives us certain pieces to the puzzle at certain times. It’s in His timing, not ours. Be thankful for that. After all, if He gave us the entire picture, would we need Him? No. I don’t ever want to wake up and not need Jesus.

I’m sure there will come a day where we decide to publicly share all of the details in our fertility adventure, but for now I’ll share a little snip-it. Let me first give you some recent history. Frankly, my husband and I aren’t sure what path to children God has for us. And, being the planner that I am, I SO wish I knew. I’d be lying if I were to say it wasn’t hard sometimes a lot of the time. I dream of children. I refer to myself as having “baby fever”. My husband has it too, just not as bad. Let’s just say he’s got “baby sniffles”. However, his subdued feelings are simply because he is looking forward to the time he and I will share as a couple once I defeat this thing. And, I agree, we do need time for the two of us again once the treatment battle is complete. So, to continue… Knowing my heart, a few weeks ago my oncologist informed us that there are a series of tests that can determine if my ovaries are still functioning. We immediately were overjoyed that we might know sooner than expected if we still had the opportunity for IVF and a gestational carrier (more commonly known as a surrogate, but there is a difference between the two). Needless to say, she ordered the test to be performed via blood draw. About a week later, we received the results. I can’t tell you how nervous we were in waiting for the outcome. This had the potential to significantly direct our path for children. However, God wasn’t ready for us to know.

The results came back with differing answers. Part of the test showed I was post-menopausal and the other part said I could still be ovulating. Don’t worry, you aren’t the only one confused! Essentially, it’s too soon to know what my ovaries are doing or not doing right now, and my doctor informed me that I could take the tests three months after treatment is complete for a more realistic result. My initial feeling, and one that still creeps up on me, is that of disappointment. We desperately want to know what direction God wants us to travel. Truth is, we are overjoyed with both surrogacy and adoption. However, we would have loved to have a more solid answer in order for us to fully embrace one option. I like to know things, and man, did I want to know how God would gift us with kids. But again, for whatever reason, He doesn’t want us to know yet. It’s all in His timing. He’s going to reveal the next step when He feels we are ready. I just pray we are ready soon!

My purpose in sharing our most recent fertility experience is to inspire and ask you to pray with us for the “sparkling surprises” in our future. Only God knows what they are, and we continue to pray and stand in faith that children are some of those sparklers. Clearly God wants me to focus on the steps laid out before me right now. Children will be in our future, but for now I still must fight. I’m not out of the battle yet. Hallelujah that I have God right next to me in this one. I am elated when I imagine myself currently forging a pathway with God up the mountain. My heart is overjoyed as I dream of the day when I will be dancing light-footed on the high peak…

Psalm 16:11 (ESV)

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

Still Want to Help?

Hi Friends and Family!

Many of you continue to ask us if there is anything more that you can do to help us through this journey. Let me first say, we are overwhelmingly grateful that your hearts are directed toward us in such a compassionate manner. The amount of love, encouragement, support, and prayer that we are still receiving from everyone means more than we can even begin to tell you. Not only has God continued to carry us through this adventure, but you all have as well. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’m nearing the light at the end of the tunnel! The end of treatment is in sight! However, this continues to be a daily battle, and as the doctors have said, will continue to be cumulative. Some days, it sure does feel like it! Now that I’m back on to my “big” chemotherapy rounds, my energy and physical strength is going to take another big dive. I’m already dealing with fun side effects from this first round- oh boy. Still trying to keep my head up and gut it out; I’m NOT giving up…dammit. (And as much as my middle fingers are getting pretty sore, they still have some communicating to do with cancer!)

So, back to that awkward point when I ask for help… Do I have to? I’ve never done this before, and it seems quite uncomfortable. Here goes nothin’. Some of you are aware of the meal registry that my mother set up for me immediately following surgery. We got an enormous amount of responses and people who signed up. I, honestly, was amazed! However, over time and as radiation was underway, the need for meals became less pressing. The time has come again, where meals will be a great assistance to us. If you would like to help us in this way, I have attached the link to this registry below. For those who are out of town, and are wondering how to drive thousands of miles to deliver your homemade lasagna, don’t fret! There’s an easier way. Through this website, you can send gift cards to restaurants. We will receive the meal cards in the mail and be able to use them accordingly. And frankly, a night out every now and then really helps freshen our spirits!

Thank you again for all who follow my fight through cancer, and stand as warriors beside me. It truly makes this battle a lot less daunting. If you have any questions or need further direction with the Meal Baby registry, feel free to contact me at derailingmydiagnosis@gmail.com.

http://mealbaby.com/viewregistry/12093575

2 Corinthians 9:8 (ESV)

“And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work.”

Bye Bye, Lasers

I’ve been gone for some time now, huh?! I definitely have to attribute that to the awesome week off that I was able to enjoy away from treatment.

It’s official! I completed my final round of radiation on June 14th, and what a relief that was! I knew I didn’t like radiation throughout it, but now that I don’t have to go every single day, the truth is sinking in. I truly despise it! I’m very much aware that although I despise laser beams shooting the crap out of my body, I am also very grateful for it because it’s a key piece in my treatment journey. But now it’s over and I’m done talking about it for a while. Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard me rant enough about how much radiation sucks… Nothing’s changed.

Here’s a quick and summarized update about what’s happened since you last heard from me three weeks ago:

  • My husband and I celebrated our two year wedding anniversary, and it was glorious. I’m continually reminded of why I married this man, and I will always be grateful that he chose to share his life with me. He surprised me the whole night, beginning with a romantic dinner at Maggiano’s in downtown Denver. We then stopped by a private party that a wonderful friend invited us to, where we had the rare and amazing opportunity to meet Coach George Karl of the Denver Nuggets. As most of you know, he is a fellow cancer soldier and survivor and to hear him tell me personally, “Keep kickin cancer’s ass, and have fun with it” was a true blessing. Following our rendezvous with the coach, we headed over to the Garner Galleria to watch the musical “I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change!”. If you haven’t had the chance to see it yet, you should. It was hilarious, and exactly what I needed to lift my spirits and keep me in the present. Oh, how I love my husband and how thoughtful he is.
  • My youngest brother is in town, and we’ve had the opportunity to spend some much needed time together. He graduated college in May, and is enjoying his last summer of freedom before the “real world” starts. He’s also been a great help in entertaining my husband and getting him out, about, and away from all of the cancer hubbub. After all, guys will always need “guy night”. And through all of this, my husband deserves every single one he wants to have!
  • With a 10 day reprieve from treatment, we were also able to spend quality time with our best friends. We love them tremendously, and have no clue what we would do without their love, encouragement, and support. And not only have we been able to spend time with them, but with a lot of our other friends as well. I actually felt like a real person again, and not just a science experiment drudging through cancer treatments every day! Seeing our friends has helped me keep my head on straight. In addition, we’ve been able to spend time with my two nanny families. Seeing my kiddos brightens my day every single time I get to be with them. Kids will always have that effect on both Matt and I.

Now that radiation is over, a lot of you have asked where things are going now. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of this week, I finished another round of chemotherapy. These rounds are identical to my very first three. Three days on chemo and two weeks off- three days on, two weeks off- and three days on, two weeks off. I should be completely done with all of my treatment by mid August! The end is in sight! As weird as it may sound, I’m excited to be back in the regular swing of things with my sole treatment being chemotherapy now. It’s a little more predictable, and I feel slightly more prepared to handle it this time. One thing I forgot about, or rather tried to block from my mind, were the shots I used to have to give myself when my blood cell counts got too low. Well, I was reminded again after this week of treatment that Neupogen shots are a part of my reality. My white blood cells were low this week, so I was given four shots to take home and self-administer over the next four days. I detest these shots, but I do know that they help me feel better. For that, I’m grateful.

Please continue to pray for my strength through this last leg of the adventure, that side effects remain by the way-side, and that my emotions remain on top of the hill and not in the valley. This is one tough journey!

1 Peter 5:8-11 (Message Version)

“Keep a cool head. Stay alert. The Devil is poised to pounce, and would like nothing better than to catch you napping. Keep your guard up. You’re not the only ones plunged into these hard times. It’s the same with Christians all over the world. So keep a firm grip on the faith. The suffering won’t last forever. It won’t be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good. He gets the last word; yes, he does.”

Burnin’ Urine

Can someone call the whaaaambulance for me? I’m about to be a whiner.

Treatment has been so not fun lately, folks. Although, considering what I’m going through, my body has been handling all of this poison fairly well. I still have yet to throw up, however, I’ve definitely stepped into a new level of feeling like utter crap. I was so encouraged throughout the beginning half of my treatment plan because I had loads of energy, wasn’t getting sick often, and generally felt pretty good. Like I mentioned in my last post, radiation is a complete game changer. Here’s an analogy: Say you get sea-sick on boats. Radiation is like adding a torrential thunderstorm into the mix. Dealing with sea-sickness isn’t so bad, but when the boat starts rocking uncontrollably, and the rain and lightening begins, you just want to get to shore. Shore=the end of treatment. I’m so ready to get to the shore.

Before I continue, let me warn and remind you that I will be blunt sometimes. Now is one of those times. Parental discretion is advised! I’m sharing my journey right? This isn’t just rainbows all the time, friends. I’ve got to shed light on the dark clouds, too. That being said… Radiation side-effects took full hold of me about 9 days ago. In fact, all fluff aside, they kicked my ass pretty hard for a few days. I’m managing fairly well now, but those first few days were hell. I would never wish this type of pain on anyone. Without getting too graphic, (although I’m sure some of you will think this is graphic enough), it felt like I was urinating acid. Mind you, radiation’s purpose is to kill all the cells in the localized area. It’s definitely doing it’s job. They have the beams aimed at my pelvic region which includes all my lady parts, the space where my reproductive parts used to hang out, and my bladder. Let me give you a different perspective. My oncologist won’t even do an exam for a couple of months after my radiation treatments are done. She won’t even go near that area because the cells are so entirely wrecked. I don’t blame her, I wouldn’t get that close to me right now, either! Back to the bladder, in case you haven’t had enough description. Acid. Pure acid. For women (or men) who have experienced urinary tract infections, you can slightly understand the pain. There’s an upside to this type of pain, however. It only comes when urinating, and goes away until I need to empty my bladder again. Like I said, the first few days were awful. I shouldn’t admit this, but I’m being transparent here- I actually screamed a few times while using the restroom. Needless to say, my husband was pretty shocked at the extent of pain I was in! After some research, we discovered ways to ease the pain, and I’m so very grateful that they have worked thus far. In fact, I can proudly announce that I rarely experience pain while using the restroom anymore! Pray that continues! I’ve got 8 more radiation treatments. I can do this.

As a side note for those who read my blog who may have a family member going through a cancer journey of their own, or for those who are in this fight with me: Please understand my intention is not to scare, frighten, or cause anxiety for you. All of our side-effects and treatments are different. You may react completely opposite than I have. My purpose in writing this blog has been to shine light on topics that doctors simply can not share with you, as they (most likely) have not personally fought this battle. There are things we experience that no one can understand. My sharing “technique” is to be as up-front as possible. It also helps those not knowing what I’m experiencing to better pray for me. Another reason I shine light on all aspects of my journey is because it’s just that: a journey. Stories have ups and downs, and who I am to act like things are perfect all the time? I am eternally grateful for my faith in the Lord. A dear friend recently encouraged me by saying, “God has not changed in the middle of our weakness and feeling like crap. All the prayers that have been prayed for you are still producing in the Kingdom of God for you.” Praise God, that that is the TRUTH! Although, I have bad days (as you will as well), God never changes. He remains the same strong, compassionate, caring, loving friend who fights for us with all He’s got. He’s my lion bursting forth his roars against the enemy, protecting me fiercely. Take heed in that, my fellow survivors.

The whining section of this entry is over…Phew! Let’s continue on to some really great news. A wonderful friend of mine works for the hospital where I am receiving treatment. With her immense help, they have decided to follow my story on their social media sites and the main hospital website. How cool is that!? She has visited me during treatment a couple of times to interview me regarding my path thus far. Let me just say, for those who have never been interviewed on or off camera, it’s a very surreal experience. In addition, it was quite humbling for me. It’s a reminder that this story isn’t just about me. Sure, I’m the one with the cancer, but all who surround me are being affected. Even those who don’t know me are affected. I’ve said it a million times, and I’ll say it again. God gave me this story to share with others. He blessed me with this testimony and I want to tell people about it! I’m learning more and more often how many people God is touching through this chapter in my life, and I’m grateful to be His vessel. What an honor. My friend has completed the article and it went live today. I would love for y’all to check it out and share it with your friends! Below I’ve included the link to the Swedish Hospital main website and their blog where you can find my article.

http://www.swedishhospital.com/swedish-spotlight/detail.htm?id=434081&fb_source=message

http://www.besthospitaldenver.com/461457/2012/06/04/fighting-cancer-with-faith.html

PS: It’s my husband and I’s 2 year wedding anniversary tomorrow! I’m so thankful to have this man standing by me in this fight.

Psalm 71:16-18 (ESV)

“With the mighty deeds of the Lord God I will come; I will remind them of your righteousness, yours alone. O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come.”

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