Posts Tagged ‘Large Cell Neuro Endocrine Carcinoma’

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.”

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.”

Radiation Rewind

As of today, I have completed 10 rounds of radiation! Only 18 more to go, oh joy!

For me, radiation is very unlike chemotherapy. I honestly feel like a professional at ingesting chemo cocktails, however, I’m such a novice at receiving laser beams. I tell you what, chemo is easy compared to these radioactive beams. Because I’m sure plenty of you are wondering what radiation treatment is actually like, I’ll explain. First off, I lay on a small table-like board. No cushions, just hard surface. I’m in a huge room with 4 red laser beams aimed right at me. If I didn’t know better, I would think the world’s best snipers had it out for me. There is an extremely large machine that moves like a transformer to the several positions it’s required to. Once my radiation therapists have lined me up correctly, they walk out of the room, and within minutes I hear the machine start up. This transformer is controlled by my therapists and slowly moves around my body to certain positions. All of the lasers are aimed at my pelvic region. Treatment itself is pretty quick. I think I end up laying there for about 10 minutes, give or take a few depending on the day. My radiation sessions are super easy. I don’t feel a thing, and laying there completely still isn’t that difficult. It’s what follows treatment that I hate.

Like I’ve shared before, my body has reacted fairly well to chemotherapy. Besides the obvious of losing my hair and being more tired than usual, there hasn’t really been many side effects. I still, to this day, have not thrown up. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t had an overall queasy feeling, it just means nothing has come up. Praise God for that. Radiation has been different to my body. Because treatment is aimed at a certain area, and the lasers purpose is to annihilate a very specific and localized region, my lower stomach has been very sore. I expected this, so it wasn’t a shock, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I have never been so thankful for summer, as I am nowadays. I physically can’t wear anything with a waistband any longer, because of the pressure it puts on my stomach. It’s sore from the inside out, and feels similar to what it did immediately after my hysterectomy. Summer dresses are now my best friends. I can happily announce that my skin hasn’t gotten red or blistered. Really, the sensitivity in my stomach is what bothers me most. In addition, I’ve been more tired than I am during my 3-day chemo cycles. These laser beams are intense. Not only are they ripping my insides apart, but my body is trying hard to recover, which in turn makes me exhausted. If I could stand being still for a long period of time, I’m sure I would take more naps. Unfortunately, cancer treatment tends to make me feel lazy, and I fight it as hard as I can. In fact, call me crazy, but I just got a gym membership… My body is going to hate me.

Here’s something new: I’m growing my hair back. And I’m surprisingly not happy about it. It’s such a hassle! Plus, I know that once I’m done with this portion of treatment, I’ll head right back to the chemo drugs that promote hair loss again. So, can’t it just stay gone until I’m through?! Of course not. My hair loss has actually been completely different than what I expected throughout my journey. As you know, during this portion of my treatment, I’m receiving radiation every day (5 days a week) with a weekly dose of chemo. This specific type of chemo drug that I’m receiving now does not cause hair loss, hence why it’s all coming back. That’s something I didn’t know prior to this adventure. I thought chemo automatically equated hair loss. But, as I’m learning, that’s not the case. When I went through my first 3-day chemotherapy cycles, I did lose my head hair, but not the rest of my body hair. For example, I’ve still had to shave my legs as often as I did prior to diagnosis. What crap, huh!? A benefit of not losing all my body hair is that my eyelashes and eyebrows have hung on for most of the ride. Recently, I’ve started wearing false eyelashes because my naturals are getting quite a bit thinner. My underarm hair disappeared during my first 3 cycles, but now has returned along with the hair on my head. My arm hair has remained constant throughout. I’m proof that hair loss is not equal during cancer treatments. I’m just hoping it all gets back on the train once treatment is over. Here’s to praying and hoping for thick and fast growing hair in the fall…head hair, of course!

Can I take a quick minute to thank all my followers and supporters? Wait, I don’t need permission…this is my blog. My deepest thanks to those who continue to walk this journey with me, those who follow my story, those who support me, and those who spend hours and hours praying for my healing. Thank you for taking time out of your busy days to follow my adventure through my diagnosis. You touch my heart and impact my life tremendously, and I truly value it.

My adventure will continue for a lifetime. Cancer will only be a chapter. Although there are days where I can’t find the least bit of sunshine in the storm, I refuse to stop paddling. Cancer won’t drown me.

Psalm 5: 11-12 (ESV)

“But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may exult in you. For you bless the righteous, O Lord; you cover him with favor as with a shield.”

Baby Brother Went Bald

Today’s a big day, but let me first address this weekend. We went out of town- thumbs up! Who knew that going out of town in this midst of this journey would be so refreshing? It was very nice to get out of the environment that has now turned into the treatment zone. My husband and I flew to Oklahoma City, OK on Friday and just returned yesterday (Sunday). The reason for our travels was for the college graduation of my baby brother. He walked the stage Summa Cum Laude at Oklahoma State University on Saturday morning. I can’t even begin to explain what an honor it was to see him accomplishing such a remarkable feat. He’s the last of my brothers to graduate from OSU. In December of 2010, I had the privilege of watching my older-of-the-two brothers walk the same stage. I cried then, and I cried this weekend. The pride I have for my two younger brothers is overwhelming. In many ways, I look up to them. Not only are they towering over me in height, but their vast knowledge about, well, many things, inspires me. Although we were all raised in the same home in the same way, our views are all different, and I love learning from them. They have taught me so much, and will continue to; of that, I am sure.

Not only was this weekend special because I had the chance to spend time with my brothers, but I was also able to see my grandparents, dad, and step-mom. Spending time with family that I don’t often see rejuvenates my spirit. And all of us being together, celebrating the same occasion, makes it that much better! In addition, the location of celebration was vital. For those who don’t know, I love Stillwater. I love the Oklahoma State campus. It’s overflowing with good memories for me. It sounds like I went there myself, right? Well, I didn’t. But that, in no way, stops me from acting like I’m an alumni! My pride for that school is uncanny. I wear OSU orange as proud as the rest of them. As does my husband. We are true cowboys. In fact, I’m a little surprised when the blood taken from my port isn’t bright orange.

The biggest highlight of my weekend happened during the graduation commencement. My husband and I, along with the rest of my family, were seated and admiring the bagpipes and entrance of the soon-to-be graduates. I was made aware that my brother and his girlfriend were sitting right next to each other, so when my mom turned around and asked if I could see my brother’s girlfriend, I said yes. However, I couldn’t find my brother. Mom explained that he was walking in right behind his girlfriend. I became increasingly confused, because the guy behind her in no way looked like my brother. This kid was bald. No sooner did I realize it, when he found his seat, turned around, and took his cap off to show me. My baby brother was bald. The bald kid was my brother! Needless to say, the tears began to rush from my eyes. This was a huge surprise that everyone kept from me. I had absolutely no idea he was planning on shaving his head, let alone for his graduation. That’s a big statement, and I acknowledge it and am deeply touched by his gift to me. In addition, when his name was finally called, and once he walked across the stage to receive his diploma, as he walked down the center aisle back to his seat, he removed his cap and walked the rest of the way proudly. If you haven’t been to a graduation ceremony before, no one removes their caps during the ceremony. It’s unheard of. Until now. I found out later, that the morning of graduation, instead of doing things soon-to-be graduates do, such as ironing their gowns and meeting up with their friends, he was sitting in his apartment getting his head shaved. Wow. I wish I could put into words the impact that has had on my life. My brother blessed and honored me on his day. For that, I will always be thankful. His bald head is the best gift I have ever received from him. (Although, the Michael Kors watch last Christmas was pretty cool, too…)

This past weekend was much-needed. I feel refreshed and ready to continue on with treatment. Every now and then, getting away is good. I’ve learned that, and will use that knowledge throughout my battle. More weekend trips might occur. In fact, my husband said he wants to go to Chicago or New York sometime, so maybe that will be our next trip! We’ll see…

Hebrews 10:22-25 (MSG version)

“So let’s do it—full of belief, confident that we’re presentable inside and out. Let’s keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going. He always keeps his word. Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on, especially as we see the big Day approaching.”

Three New Tattoos

Today was a day I had been increasingly nervous for. My anxieties were running rampant up until the moment my Radiologist began speaking. The purpose of my appointment today was to make sure my Radiologist and I were on the same page as far as the next step in my treatment journey: radiation. In addition, I was to get a “simulation scan” for the doctor and team to better aim their laser beams. For those who need a quick recap of where I am in my treatment, I will gladly update you. I had my radical hysterectomy on February 8th, which I am healing wonderfully from. I am still pretty sore in my stomach, and have been experiencing pretty common side effects. You know, the usual numb right thigh, and numb section of my stomach. Ha. However, my Oncologist says that my scar looks like that of a woman who is a year out of surgery… I’m not even three months out of surgery! Looks like I’ve got some gnarly recovery soldiers in my body. I officially completed my first three rounds of chemotherapy on the 4th of this month. This feat was a huge one! The next step in my treatment will be six weeks of radiation with weekly doses of chemo. Once that phase is complete, I will then finish three more rounds of chemotherapy. By then, it should be August, and I will be done! So looking forward to that!

Now, back to today. Holy crap, was I nervous. I’ve heard of cancer survivors forever being anxious for every scan. Scans to determine if the monster has returned or remains stomped out. That’s a big deal. I didn’t quite understand their perspective until this day came closer and closer. I was scared, nervous, anxious, and stressed. My faith and trust in God remains unwavering, that’s not the issue. The issue is I’m human (believe it or not). I have human emotions, regardless of how hard I try to ignore, avoid, or pray away these feelings. Unfortunately I fall prey to the devil. I fall prey to what he wants me to believe. That’s what causes these fearful emotions. Yet in my fear, God remains. He’s holding my hand, encouraging me to take another step into the unknown. It’s as if I’m blind, and He is my seeing eye dog friend, guide, and leader. Although I can’t see the next step, He can. I am learning more and more to rely on His eyes, not my own. He’s got all the pieces to the puzzle in His hands, and He gives them to me one by one. Today He gave me another piece.

My husband and I arrived at the Radiation Oncology office and soon met with my doctor. This is the doctor that I have mentioned in previous posts whom has an affinity for being blunt. Remember the doctor who looked me straight in the eye and without any pause told me that I would most definitely die if treatment didn’t work? Yes, that one. Well, truth is, I love my doctors, each and every one of them. I have a fabulous team. They are the smartest in their fields and truly are a team who works together for the betterment of my well-being. This specific doctor, my Radiologist, has spoken facts into my life. I’ve learned that sometimes it’s good to have the cold hard facts. Sometimes it’s okay to be rid of the fluff that often envelopes the hard news. However, today I was not only nervous because every sit down meeting with my doctors have increasingly been full of negative updates, and because it was yet another new step in the journey, but also because my doctor is blunt. If there were hard facts to share, he would lay it on me. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. In my heart I believed I would receive good news. I have shared with a few of you that I believe my body is rid of cancer. I still believe this. Yet, where hope is, Satan isn’t far behind. He will constantly try to change your mind. He will constantly try to poison your hopeful thoughts. He doesn’t want us to have faith or believe in miracles. And he surely wants me to believe that cancer has creeped into another crevice of my insides. It is more important than ever for me to guard my heart from this toxic evil.

The first words out of my doctor’s mouth were that I looked great. He doesn’t seem like the guy to add flattery to the conversation, so I knew he was being genuine. So far, the meeting was going well! He continued on to tell us more good news. He confirmed that I indeed will receive six weeks of external radiation with weekly chemo doses. Great, we’re still on the same page! In addition, I don’t have to worry about ever receiving Brachytherapy, as I don’t have a cervix anymore. Brachytherapy is internal radiation and often destroys sexual function. (Hello!? My husband and I haven’t been married 2 years yet. We need many more years of that function!) I also was pleased to hear that each radiation treatment will take less than 30 minutes. I will be going to the office every day, five days a week, same time every day to receive this treatment, so not having to be there for hours on end is a blessing. After hearing much information about the side effects of radiation, I was gladly surprised to hear that my “knowledge” wasn’t necessarily the case. I shouldn’t experience skin irritation or burns. In fact, the main side effect that I will notice will be fatigue. Seriously? I’m a pro at being tired now…I’m pretty sure I can handle fatigue. I then asked him about the following scan I would get. Would it be able to reveal if there is cancer anywhere else? The specific name of the scan I received is called a “simulation scan”. He informed me that it would be concentrated on my pelvic region, and its purpose was to show my anatomy. “Ok, doc, if it’s a scan, will you be able to see if there is cancer there?” He assured me, that in his honest and expert opinion, he highly doubts there is any cancer there. He strongly believes that it was completely removed in surgery. Hallelujah! That’s what I have been feeling and believing! I went on to ask when I would receive another full body PET scan. He explained that it probably wouldn’t happen until the very end of treatment, meaning around August. As I explained that to my parents after the appointment, they both became alarmed. Shouldn’t they be making sure it’s nowhere else? Luckily, my Radiologist informed me, that again, he was very confident that if there was a tiny chance that the cancer has spread elsewhere and my earlier PET scan didn’t detect it, by now (after plenty chemo cocktails) it would be annihilated. Essentially, my Radiologist is extremely confident that my treatment (surgery, chemo, and radiation) is doing it’s job. More wonderful news: radiation is very effective with my type of cancer. Neuroendocrine cells are very sensitive to radiation. Hell yes they are! Frankly, if there were/are any miniscule amounts of cancer cells in my body, they are going to be murdered. End of story. Oh, and let me throw this in… As we were leaving his office to head to my scan, he shook our hands and with a smile said, “You look very good, and I am confident that with this treatment, you are going to do great.” Hooray!

On to the scan. Much like my PET scan, I was given contrast. Contrast is a dye that is used to illuminate any cancerous cells. After informing my nurses that I have a power port, they called a special nurse to come access it. Side note, most general nurses can not access ports because they require a different needle and application process. Today I had forgotten to apply Lidocaine cream to the top of my port. Soon you will find out why this was not good. This “special” nurse came in and accessed my port, AKA: shoved the giant “special” needle into my chest. Typically, I apply the above mentioned Lidocaine cream to numb it. Today, no cream. Today, no numbness. Today, pain. I will never again (fingers crossed) forget to apply the numbing cream. It is too important to forget. I learned the hard way. Access needles are much thicker than regular needles. After all, they need to get through the silicone at the top of the port. Ugh. Horrible pain. It feels exactly the way it sounds. A giant needle being shoved into your chest. Wonderful. And typically, with Lidocaine cream, the removal process is easy-peasy. Totally different today. When my lovely nurse removed the access needle, I swear she nearly pulled the port out of my skin. It was even more painful than insertion. If accessing my port wasn’t enough description for you, let me tell you about my new cancer treatment souvenirs…

Three new tattoos. Yes, you read correctly. Tattoo: “A permanent mark or design made on the skin by a process of pricking and ingraining an indelible pigment”. Yes, that’s what I got. Three of them, in fact. One on each hip area and one right above my pubic bone. The reason for these tattoos is so the radiation therapist can precisely pinpoint the area needing treatment. It allows the tech to line up the treatment fields quicker each session. A road map of sorts. Here me out, I’m not new to tattoos; I actually have eight already. And from my experience, tattoos hurt. Very worth it, but painful. So, here I am receiving a simulation scan, and soon told I will get tattooed. What? I asked the nurse if it feels like a real tattoo, and she too quickly said yes. Luckily these tattoos are extremely small. Folks, I’m talking the size of a freckle small. Had you freaked out a little, didn’t I? Nevertheless, they are real tattoos, and therefore hurt like a real tattoo. Let’s just add them to my visual reminders that God performs miracles!

Mark 11:22-25 (NIV)

“Have faith in God,” Jesus answered. “Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”

Family, Fundraiser, and Feelings

So much has happened! I can happily report, that lately it’s been several days of GOOD! Of course, as I’ve been thinking about writing an entry these past few days, on the day that I planned to update, my good days slowly turned south. Today was a not-so-good one. But first, let me share the great moments I’ve had. God is creating miracles in my life. Every good day is a miraculous gift from Him. Keep in mind, I have been told to expect the worst (vomiting, exhaustion, neuropathy, etc). And although I am fairly tired every day, the other symptoms have not shown themselves. Praise God! In the time that I have not updated y’all, many things have happened. Let me begin:

1. My incredibly hilarious, kind-hearted, and funtastic aunt came to visit. Our time together was a blast, filled with much laughter and conversation. She’s truly someone I can spill my guts to. Thank God for cool aunts! In addition, she helped immensely with our fundraiser, and was there making sure I was drinking enough water and constantly had sunscreen on my baldalicous dome.

2. We had our Baldalicious Bandwagon fundraiser, and the turn out was jaw-dropping! I still can not believe how many of you came to be a part of that fun day with us. And not only how many people came to support us, but how many guys shaved (and I mean with shaving cream) their heads. Seriously, it was over 20 guys from ages 4 to 57. Amazing. For those who chose to support me by rocking the same invisible hairstyle, my deepest and most heartfelt thanks. Without going into a long rant, I will try to explain how it touched my heart. Before I lost all my hair, I didn’t expect to feel alone once my hair was gone. However, it was indeed the case once the locks disappeared. Fact is, you don’t see many bald people in public. As a stylist, I do notice wigs, but women rarely rock the shiny dome. I quickly felt like the only one. Luckily, my husband went bald before me, which made my transition a lot easier. And now to see the amount of other people willing to shave their hair off, to stand next to me in this battle, was a huge visual reminder that I am not alone. I’m not the only bald person walking around. If you ever get the opportunity to show support to someone going through cancer, shaving your head is an enormous gift to give.

Not only was there immense support via head-shaving, but so many of you made generous donations. And when I say “generous”, I mean, “gargantuan generosity”. Generosity that I had no concept of, prior to this event. Generosity that continues to bring tears to my eyes. Generosity that has filled our lives with hope and has taken away some of the fears we had financially. With your help, we raised a great amount of money. Let me assure you, we have put aside this money and all of your future donations, into a special account. Your donations will help us pay our never-ending large medical bills. Yesterday, we received a huge medical bill in the mail, and initially the number brought immediate stress. However, now, because of so many of you, my stress has dissipated. Because of you, we can more easily pay these medical bills. A humongous “thank you” to all who so graciously and generously donated. You have touched us dramatically.

Overall, our Baldalicious Bandwagon fundraiser was a huge hit! I enjoyed it so much. Thankfully, I had energy, was feeling really good that day and was able to participate. I was able to meet so many new people, spend time with old friends whom I hadn’t seen in years, and see the amount of love you all have for me. The love and support were visual and apparent. I can’t express my gratitude in words.

3. We officially moved into my mom and step-dad’s basement. Although we both prided ourselves on and promised each other we would never move in with our parents after marriage…things change. We have to continually remind ourselves that it’s not because we were financially irresponsible or moochers. Yes, we do pay rent. Let’s just consider them, “room mates”. Cancer became a part of our lives. And with cancer, all of our plans have changed. This transition will allow us to save some money, and when Matt is at work, my mom will be able to help me when need be.

4. One of my awesome sisters came to visit! She was here this past Monday through yesterday, and we had a great time. Like I mentioned before, I have been having really good days, and because of this, her and I were able to spend quality time together. We had time to catch up and share about the current events in our lives. In addition, we enjoyed a day of shopping, and another day at the zoo. Both typically great activities, but with your sister, they are even better. Having out-of-town family here, makes this journey a lot easier.

5. I celebrated the completion of my 3rd round of chemotherapy! Hallelujah! I am now officially about 1/3 of the way through my treatment plan. Although a seemingly small step, if I view it correctly, it’s a big deal. Any progress is good progress! And progress, this is indeed. Until today, my days during this cycle have been really great. My days were full of energy, no nausea, and a strong body. I continue to pray that God releases his miracles upon me, and that I continue to experience his supernatural healing powers. Feel free to pray with me on that!

Now, I’ll update you to the current day. Like I mentioned in the above statements, I have felt really good in this cycle until now. Well, that’s a partial truth. Really, I’ve experienced a headache for the last 4 days non-stop, but, hey… that’s not too bad. This morning I woke up with extreme body aches and soreness, and symptoms of a bad head cold. However, I don’t believe these words fully encompass the way my body is reacting. I’ll try my best at making it a little more realistic and understandable for you. My muscles and bones ache as though someone has beaten my entire body with an aluminum bat. OR- You know when you whack your knee into something very hard, and it leaves a gigantic sore bruise for days? Imagine that sore bruise (minus the color) covering every inch of your being. Even the muscles behind my eyes hurt. Yes, that makes even looking around painful. My bones feel brittle, and my ankles actually feel as though they may break when I walk up and down the stairs. That’s what I’m experiencing today. So much so, that my husband had to literally help me out of bed this morning. Helped me out of bed to the couch, to lay right back down. And until 6:30pm, there I lay. The Rockies are playing tonight, so my husband and I came upstairs to watch the game with my step-dad, one of our “roomies”. Fingers crossed they’ll pull it out and win one. (I am so looking forward to making it to a game this season!)

Physically bad days aren’t just a physical battle… my emotions love to join in on the fun. Those two go hand in hand and, as I’m learning more and more, are very dependent on the other. For example, if I’m having a great day physically and my emotions are a wreck, so is my day. And, likewise, if I’m physically hurting, but in a good mood, my days aren’t very cheery either. So when I say I had a “good day”, you can almost guarantee my physical body and emotional spirit are hypothetically holding hands and frolicking through a field of wildflowers. Oh, how I enjoy those days. Today, not only did my body hurt, but my emotions took a dive. Not in the deep end of the pool, but deeper than I like. I found myself crying. Crying because I hate feeling like this. Crying because I have such an immense love/hate relationship for chemo. Crying because I sometimes feel like a burden on those I love, specifically my husband. Crying because I hate not being able to control my body. Crying because, dammit, this whole thing sucks. It’s okay for me to cry, though. In fact, it’s good for me to cry. Because I don’t do it very often, when I do it’s a good release. I feel cleansed after a good cry. And, God gave us tear ducts for a reason, right? Might as well put them to good use.

Some of you may think that when I have bummer days like today, that I may lose faith. But it’s actually in fact the opposite. I trust my God so much, that I know these “bad days” are just another part of His story. Yes, they suck. Yes, I wish I didn’t have to experience pain behind my eyeballs and in every inch of my body. But you know what? God is still the same God. He is still good, and always will be. He wants the best for me, and knows that I must endure this in order to learn what He is teaching me. His hands are on me. He is fighting this fight with me. Battles are hard, gritty, difficult, and engulfing. And, you know what? He didn’t place this cancer in my life, He allowed it. I fully believe that the devil went to Jesus and asked Him if he could place this speed bump in our lives. My savior said, “Yes, because I know she can do this. You can’t take her down.” God’s bets are on me. And that’s awesome to think about. God is for me. Not against me. And, when I get down, that’s all I need to think about. Although my body and emotions may fail me, my heart, spirit, and faith remain strong.

Psalm 112: 6-8 (ESV)

“For the righteous will never be moved; he will be remembered forever.  He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.  His heart is steady; he will not be afraid, until he looks in triumph on his adversaries.”

Baldalicious Bandwagon Fundraiser

It’s official! We are having a support rally and fundraiser, and it’s in a week! A lot of you have continued to show your gracious hearts and giving spirits, and I can’t express to you how thankful we are. This continues to be a journey for all of us, and to have unending support means the world to us. Below I have attached an image of our custom-made poster (courtesy of my incredible and talented designer husband), so feel free to share the good news!

At this fundraiser, we will have our specially designed “Baldalicious Bandwagon” t-shirts, derailingmydiagnosis bracelets, delicious eats, and more! In addition, we didn’t name it “Baldalicious Bandwagon” for no reason… If you or your friends feel compelled to join me in this bald journey by shaving your heads, we will have stylists to assist you in your new do! Feel free to raise support from your friends and family to go bald. For a donation of $20 or more, you will receive an awesome “Baldalicious Bandwagon” t-shirt. For a donation of $5 or more, you will receive a derailingmydiagnosis wristband. Please don’t let these numbers limit your giving; it’s a good cause, for a stellar chick!

As we are continually learning, cancer is expensive. Thankfully, God has placed His perfect timing on this situation, and we are blessed to have insurance which helps a great deal. However, the bills will continue to show up in our mailbox. Any donation is appreciated. No matter the size, we urge you to share and help us in this fight. Cancer is so many things: hideous, aggressive, expensive, mean, and uncaring. Luckily, there are so many things that cancer is not. Some of you have heard this poem, and as a cancer fighter, I have become very familiar with it. Let’s not give cancer more credit than it deserves.

“Cancer is so limited…
It cannot cripple love.
It cannot shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith.
It cannot eat away peace.
It cannot destroy confidence.
It cannot kill friendship.
It cannot shut out memories.
It cannot silence courage.
It cannot reduce eternal life.
It cannot quench the Spirit.”
-Unknown

For more information, please contact me at derailingmydiagnosis@gmail.com

Romans 12:10 (NIV)

“Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves”

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