Posts Tagged ‘treatment’

Third Time is NOT a Charm

Who ever said, “Third time’s a charm!”? What a load of crap. Okay, okay…maybe it’s just my situation. Losing my hair for the third time is so not charming. At least not to me. My husband has a different perspective, and while I understand and am grateful for his outlook, I still hate that I have to lose my locks again. In his words, “Seeing your hair fall out is a sign that the chemo is working in your body!” True, babe. Very true. Although I was liking loving my short locks, I can’t argue with my husband’s perspective. It’s true. And it’s right. And yes, I am extremely thankful that my chemotherapy treatments are doing something.

Photos courtesy my husband, right before he shaved it off. Check out how long it got!

Photos courtesy my husband, right before he shaved it off. Check out how long it got!

Rewind…Happy New Year and belated Merry Christmas! What a fabulous holiday it was. Following my first treatment, I prayed each day that I would feel good on Christmas, and lo and behold…I did; Hallelujah! Matt and I were able to fully enjoy time spent with each other and our family and friends, and cancer was not invited to any of the parties!

Last time I posted was a few days before Christmas, on my first day of this season of treatments. I was unsure what to expect with these new drugs and regimen, and was a little nervous on what side effects I would experience. Oh boy, did I experience the gamut! Before I get to the enticing details of rashes, nausea, and flu-like symptoms, let me update you on my proposed treatment schedule. This round of treatment will consist of a few different drugs. One type of chemotherapy combined with a “booster,” and a shot the following day. By “booster,” I’m referring to a drug that coincides and works well in promoting the effects of chemotherapy. In essence, it cuts off the blood vessels that cancer needs to survive. While I’m on board for that idea, I am apprehensive about the possible and rare side effects that this booster causes. “Rare” doesn’t mean much to me anymore… I have a “rare” cancer with a “rare” recurrence, and have already experienced “rare” side effects. Booya! In yo face, statistics.

I will receive chemo once every three weeks about six times. That is very different than my last schedule of three days in a row every three weeks surrounding six weeks of weekly chemo combined with daily radiation. (That was a mouthful and a LOT of treatments!) I am thankful that this regimen is so different. It allows me more time to recover and to have more good days. In fact, this first time on the new drugs, I only had one week of feeling awful, which has left me two weeks of feeling pretty great. Feeling good for two weeks is a blessing, folks.

Besides simply having to continue treatment, the biggest things I loathe are the shots I have to take after each and every chemotherapy session. These shots are similar to what I had to self-inject last time around. They help stimulate my white blood cell growth, however, they are slow-releasing. Therefore, I feel sick and gross for a longer period of time. I have developed a love/hate relationship with these injections. While they help increase my white blood cells, they really put a damper on my body and mood. I, however, am thankful that they exist, because without them I could not continue to receive chemotherapy.

Curls for days.

Curls for days. January 2013.

If you haven’t already, buckle up. Here comes some truth. And it’s not going to be sugar-coated. I mean, come on… you know me by now, right?! I felt like utter shit after my first round of this new treatment. Ugh. Horrendous. Chemo itself already makes me feel awful, but combined with this new injection, I was bed-ridden for about four days. Most people enduring cancer treatments often find it hard to describe what they feel like after each cocktail, and I am no different. My best description is this: Imagine having the worst case of the flu. Complete with fever, stomach ache, diarrhea, and constipation (believe me, it’s possible). Add to that a grueling headache that won’t go away, severe body aches, and skin sensitivity. Mix in a weird and itchy rash on the tops of your hands. And, to top it off, throw in a semi-truck running over your hips, pelvis, and lower back. All that makes for a wonderful chemo-filled sundae topped with some Neulasta sprinkles. And no, I did not get run over by a semi, I was being descriptive. My husband will argue that it’s exaggerative, but I stick to “descriptive.” Needless to say, I felt dreadful, filthy, exhausted, lousy, horrendous, and gross. And like I’ve mentioned before, when I’m not feeling great physically, it takes everything in me to stay positive mentally. That first week, I truly felt defeated. There’s no other way to say it. My dad always tells me, “You’ve got to remind yourself that it will get better. You know that by now. If you can get through this week of feeling crappy, you will eventually feel good again!” He’s right, but damn, it’s hard to accept in the midst.

The good news is, Dad is right. It does get better, and it did. I began to feel better Christmas morning, and it has continued through today. Having good days really is a blessing. I have been able to cook, clean, and take care of my husband and our home. In addition, we’ve been able to enjoy time together and with family and friends. I am thankful for every good day that God gives me. Each good day allows me to fully enjoy the life that God has breathed into my body.

As we are all familiar with, my hair falls out when I receive chemotherapy. The fact that I am receiving a different drug does not change that. In fact, this time around, my hair began to fall out sooner than expected. Usually it takes two weeks (to the day) to fall out. This time it began to fall out a day before expected. I chose to take my husband’s perspective on this one and say, “Chemo must really be working!”  Nevertheless, losing hair still sucks. For some reason I thought maybe this time would be no problem, but I was wrong. This is the third time that I have lost my hair, and again, third time is NOT a charm. It was almost harder this time than previously. Losing my hair is a visual reminder for me that I am actually fighting cancer again. When I had my new hair regrowth and was going through my first chemo session this time, I was still able to style my curls and was subconsciously fooling myself into believing, “I just go into the doctors every now and then.” Now that I am losing my hair I think, “I just go into the doctors every now and then… for chemotherapy to fight cancer.”

Check out that texture!

Check out that texture!

Frankly, I really began to love my short hair. I’ve heard many times that chemo can cause a person’s hair to grow back differently- texture, color, thickness. I can attest, this is true! Mine grew back extremely curly! Before I first lost my hair in March, it was slightly wavy. It could be straight, and would also hold a curl very well. However, it was processed (I wasn’t a natural blonde, believe it or not) and therefore most of the natural wave had been reduced. The hair that had begun to grow back since my last treatments in August was extremely thick and full of tight curls. It resembled the texture my hair was when I was a toddler, before hair color, flat irons, and blow dryers. Losing the locks that I loved was hard. Hair regrowth helped me see that I was really done with treatment, that I was cancer-free. Hair loss forces me to see that I am back in the game. While it’s easy to host a pity-party (which I’ve already done some), I am confident in beating this thing again. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’d rather be alive and bald, than dead with incredible hair. And while we’re being Positive Polly, I’ll add… I truly adore my new blonde wig. It’s the first time that I’ve felt like me in a long time. It’s nice to look in the mirror and see my hot blonde self smiling back.

Ultimately, my hair will grow back. For now, I’m going to embrace being baldalicious and kick cancer’s ass for the second time. Pretty soon, this stupid, little, annoying bug called cancer is going to run away, begging me to stop torturing it.

Joshua 1:9 (MSG)

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Wigs and Warfare

It’s me again! Stephanie is back and ready to update y’all! But before going further, let me first take a minute to applaud my incredible husband for keeping my readers informed through the entire surgery process. Doesn’t he write wonderfully? I’m pretty proud of this man who I get to call my husband. He’s a total stud. He continues to be by my side through the highs and extreme lows of this adventure…and all the while, keeping you in the loop! I’ll save all the details about him for another blog post, but for now, let me get you up to date.

My stay in the hospital was exhausting. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. It’s been about eight days since I was discharged, and I just now feel like I’m settling into the groove. I was discharged the day after Matt last posted. Like he mentioned, my medical team discovered an alarmingly low heart rate and irregular heart beat, and wanted to dig deeper. Easy enough for them…they didn’t have to undergo those insane tests. Once we changed floors and got comfortable in our new room, I was immediately hooked up to a heart rate monitor. This allowed the nurses to watch exactly what my heart was doing at all times. In addition, the following day, an Echocardiogram was ordered. This test is a Sonogram for the heart and monitors the natural rhythm to determine if my organ is functioning properly. Once that was complete, I was transported to the radiology department to receive a PET Rubidium scan and another CT scan. Long story short, I hope I never have to receive another Rubidium scan. Ever heard of a stress test? That’s exactly what it is. Except, nowadays, instead of having a patient who recently had surgery walk on a treadmill, we are placed in a PET scan bed and injected with a special medicine that acts as stress. Oh. My. Stressed is an understatement. I’m always timid to put exact details of scans, tests, and procedures on here for everyone to see, because my intentions are not to scare you. My intentions are truly just to inform. If you get scared, I’m sorry.

To be honest, once this “stress medicine” was injected, I rapidly felt my heart rate skyrocket. I tried not to panic. I took deep breaths and prayed the entire time. For about five to seven minutes, I experienced what I think most heart attack patients may experience. My chest hurt. I felt as though my heart would beat out of my eyeballs and right into my lap. I was sweating. And all I could do was pray that it would be over soon. I’m not a drama queen folks, but I can admit, I did pray… “Lord, please don’t let me die.” Yes, it was that bad. I had tears streaming from my eyes when I was placed back in the wheelchair to be taken to my room again. Once the doors opened and my husband laid eyes on his obviously distraught wife, I could see the anger begin to overflow. I could imagine exactly what was going through his head, and picture it to be something like this: “What the hell did you do to my wife? Why is she crying? I’m going to make you pay!” Once he understood that I was alright and would give him the details when we arrived back at our room, he calmed down. While he has a tendency of being over protective, I am so grateful that I have a husband who cares so deeply about my welfare.

All that to say, my test results came back fine. They did notice the irregular beat and low rate at which my heart was functioning, but it wasn’t alarming. They ordered these tests to rule out blood clots, and that’s exactly what they did. I was free of any clots, and frankly, free of all tears as well. Because I was unable to ingest any solid food or liquids the day of my tests, I was starving when I got back to my room. It was already around four o’clock, and I had nothing in my system since the previous night. All I wanted was some french toast, fresh fruit, and a big piece of cake. And, because of my sweet nurse, I got exactly that! She quickly dialed the cafeteria, and might as well had said, “You better get that food here in two minutes, or else!” Again, I am very grateful for the strong team God continues to place in this game. To add, all of my nurses during my four-day stay were amazing. God placed each and every one of them on my path, and they were each perfect for the job. I really like to form relationships with my caretakers in the hospital, and did just that. I’ve left wondering how they are doing, and look forward to possibly seeing them again someday…Under different circumstances, of course!

Currently, I am still very sore, bruised, and swollen from surgery. I have a total muffin top beginning at my scar line. My belly just hangs there, and it’s extremely unappealing. Good thing my husband loves me regardless! I am finally able to move around without excruciating pain, and am starting to function a little more typically. Matt no longer has to physically help me in and out of bed, and that is a huge victory! I visited my General Oncologist today and after checking out my scar, he was shocked at how quickly I’m healing. I’m young, fit, and strong…what can I say? I also have an army praying for a fast recovery. God’s got me on lock-down. At my appointment today, we discussed the next phase of treatment. Chemotherapy. We talked about which specific chemo drug all my doctors agree on administering, and the schedule at which I will receive it. Before posting concrete plans, I need to confirm with my Gynecologic Oncologist that this is what she would like to do. Most likely she is on the same page, and in which case, I will begin chemo next week. Again, until everything is solidified I can’t be specific as far as how often I will receive doses or how long this next phase will last. However, I am so ready to get this train rollin’! Chemo cocktails never sounded so good until right about now. The waiting and in-between is really the hardest part.

For those who have followed my story, you know that God is the One for big blessings. He hasn’t ceased dropping down those gifts from above. Some, Matt has included in his previous post, and I’d like to reiterate that God is good. Here is why:

  1. When my Gyn Oncologist/surgeon opened me up in surgery, the tumor popped right up. It was completely encased in a mucus lining, therefore it was all intact. This is not the case for some cancers. Some tumors are not circular and are rather jagged, which makes it nearly impossible to remove the entire mass.
  2. Because of its mucus lining, my surgeon was able to remove the entirety of the mass.
  3. The tumor was not connected to my colon, and therefore I did not need any form of a colostomy.
  4. The PET scan immediately following surgery showed no signs of carcinoma anywhere else in my body.
  5. My surgeon was able to create an incision at my original hysterectomy scar line. In fact, she removed my previous scar, so now I only have one scar right above my pubic area.
  6. I am still alive and breathing. God continues to bless me with more days to glorify Him. Hallelujah!

This past week I have been recovering and taking it easy. My body is beginning to function normally again, which I am grateful. We continue to have wonderful support from friends and family, and at a time like this, it’s been extremely helpful. Like I mentioned, I’m finally able to be a little more up and active, and I even felt well enough to make it to church yesterday. I’ve learned that through the storm, instead of hiding out and suffering alone, it is better to surround yourself with joyful people. The most joyous place we enjoy is our church, in the presence of God and surrounded by friends. Needless to say, my spirits were lifted greatly by being in that environment yesterday. In addition, I’ve picked out a new wig! And let me tell you, she is gorgeous! Most know that when I first began this journey, before I lost my hair, I was blonde. Not naturally, but shhh. This time, I decided to go back blonde, and I have been gifted a stunning wig of human hair. Although I’ve been loving my short curly and wavy hair that has grown, I won’t miss it so much now that I have some blonde to rock!

Back to Blonde! Stephanie wearing her new wig. (December 2012)

Back to Blonde! Stephanie wearing her new wig. (December 2012)

At the bottom of this entry, I am including a link. A link in order for you to make a choice. As you know, I don’t like to sugarcoat anything, and have always remained open and honest. However, I do understand that some of my readers have sensitive stomachs, and for that I have chosen to create a clickable link so you are able to make the choice to view this image or not. This link is graphic. This link will show you exactly what is trying to take my life. This link might frighten you. Please don’t let it. This link is to a medical picture of the cancerous tumor my surgeon removed last week. You may wonder why I have a photograph of it. I want to see what is trying to ruin me. I want to see exactly what I am fighting so hard to defeat. I need to have a visual of the enemy; The enemy that is getting kicked around, poisoned, stomped on… and ultimately defeated. I feel the need to share this with you, so that you are able to see what you are praying against. I understand if you have a sensitive stomach and can not handle a medical picture of this nature. Whether you choose to view my tumor or not, I thank you for allowing me to be transparent and share the entirety of my journey through cancer with you.

Click HERE to see a picture of the cancerous tumor. (Graphic medical image)

John 10:6-10 (MSG Version)

Jesus told this simple story, but they had no idea what he was talking about. So he tried again. ‘I’ll be explicit, then. I am the Gate for the sheep. All those others are up to no good—sheep stealers, every one of them. But the sheep didn’t listen to them. I am the Gate. Anyone who goes through me will be cared for—will freely go in and out, and find pasture. A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.'”

He Answers

Let me begin by saying that I am completely and utterly overwhelmed at the amount of support I have on my team. Thank you to those who have sent encouraging messages, comments, phone calls, and texts. Thank you to my loyal readers who have followed me from my initial diagnosis and continue to stand by me through this next journey by uplifting me in prayer. Also, a big thanks to my new followers who found me through an internet search or word of mouth. I have a whole army of prayer warriors, and I am humbled that you each care so deeply about my victory. In fact, from yesterday’s posts until now, I have had well over 2,000 views on my blog. Thank you for sharing my story and spreading the hope!

My sweet husband and I went to bed last night with a huge prayer request on our hearts. We desperately wanted to hear back from this doctor at MD Anderson, and fervently asked God that we would hear from him personally in the morning. Bright and early, my phone rang. It was a Houston number. In fact, it was the physician. I immediately answered and was able to speak directly to the doctor I so desperately needed. Long story short, he completely agreed that I need immediate surgery to remove the mass. Chemotherapy before surgery just won’t cut it. We’ve got to get this beast out of me as soon as possible. In addition, he encouraged me to remain positive and believe that with this surgery, there will be no more signs of cancer in my body, and that I will beat this. I told him, “Doc, I’ve got this…I’m very confident that I’ll beat cancer!” Not only did he confirm our beliefs for immediate action, he doesn’t find it necessary for us to travel to Houston just yet. He believes that everything my doctors are doing here, is what he himself would do there. Praise God! Now we don’t have to worry about traveling and all of the insurance hoopla! With all that being said, it’s true…God answers prayer. Not that we have ever doubted that for a second, however, while we’ve known that for most of our lives, we can’t recall such a big prayer being answered so quickly. Right when I’m not sure, God shows up. He’s right here, and while I can’t see Him, I know His hand is all over this situation.

Now that that prayer has been answered, we would like to share another one. After further speaking with my Gynecologic Oncologist, who happens to be my previous surgeon and will be this time as well, she informed me of the exact location of my tumor. It is hanging out right next to my sigmoid colon. In easier terms, it’s partying right around my lower colon/bowels. Because of its location, she won’t be able to know for a fact if it’s actually connected to that organ or not until she opens me up. There are three possibilities we are facing. One: She begins surgery and sees that the mass is not connected to my colon, and can therefore, easily remove the tumor without anything else. Two: My tumor appears to be slightly attached or embedded in my colon, in which case she would need to remove part of my colon, and perform a temporary colostomy. Temporary meaning, I would receive a colostomy until my chemotherapy was finished and as long as there is not another recurrence, she will later repair my colon. Three: The monster is too deeply attached or embedded in the colon, and she will need to remove the organ and perform a permanent colostomy. For those who are unaware of the medical procedure I’m referring to, feel free to look it up here. To be frank, while I know that a colostomy is not the end of the world, and will allow me to live a fairly normal life, I’d really prefer not to have to go down this path. Please pray and believe with us that the tumor is not attached to my colon and that my surgeon will easily be able to remove it without having to remove the organ as well. We know that God answers prayer, and are standing firm in our faith.

As I have mentioned, surgery is a priority. It needs to happen immediately, and now that all of my doctors are on the same page, we can proceed. Buckle up friends…My procedure has been scheduled for tomorrow morning. Yes…tomorrow, Friday the 29th, as in less than fifteen hours from now. We are more than okay with this, and in fact, are welcoming it. We understand that in order to ensure the best possible outcome, this mass needs to be removed. I’m ready to have this thing out of me. While we know and appreciate that many of you will want to stop by beforehand to pray with us, we politely ask that you pray from where you’re at in order to ensure that the waiting room does not overflow. Plus, if I didn’t have to be up and around before 6am, I wouldn’t. Therefore, you shouldn’t have to! Surgery will begin around 7:30am. For those out-of-state, we are on mountain time. Matt will be taking the reins and doing guest posts to update everyone on my progress. The surgery should take two hours, and I will be in recovery for a couple of hours as well. By noon, I should be in my room highly medicated for the expected pain that I will be experiencing. Is it wrong to say that I’m looking forward to that part? No, not the pain…the medicine! By Saturday I am sure I will be comfortably settled in and more than willing to have visitors. For those wanting to visit, please text myself or Matt.

To recap: Tomorrow morning I’m getting cut open. Pray that the tumor is not attached to my colon, or any other organs for that matter. Pray for wisdom and guidance for my surgical team. Pray for a smooth surgery and a speedy recovery. Pray for my dear husband, that he will feel the supernatural hand of God and that he will experience peace, calm, and assurance. And please pray for me, that God will give me strength, peace, and confidence. Neither of us are very nervous now, but it might be a different story in the morning.

For those who might be anxious about this procedure and the trial we face… know that we are confident in a complete healing. We rely on our Savior to direct our steps. He has gone before us and has prepared the way.

I’ve beat cancer once, and I’ll beat it again.

Psalm 18:32-42 (The Message)

“Is there any god like God? Are we not at bedrock? Is not this the God who armed me, then aimed me in the right direction? Now I run like a deer; I’m king of the mountain. He shows me how to fight; I can bend a bronze bow! You protect me with salvation-armor; you hold me up with a firm hand, caress me with your gentle ways. You cleared the ground under me so my footing was firm. When I chased my enemies I caught them; I didn’t let go till they were dead men. I nailed them; they were down for good; then I walked all over them. You armed me well for this fight, you smashed the upstarts. You made my enemies turn tail, and I wiped out the haters. They cried “uncle” but Uncle didn’t come; They yelled for God and got no for an answer. I ground them to dust; they gusted in the wind. I threw them out, like garbage in the gutter.”

It Won’t Win, Because I Won’t Lose

Last Tuesday, November 20th, I received a regular three-month follow-up scan. Typically I would have received a PET (full body) scan, however, our insurance is not cancer-patient friendly. Apparently, because my last PET scan in August came back clear of cancer, they deemed it unnecessary to cover any further PET scans unless a CT (localized) scan came back showing anything. Ridiculous, I know. Don’t get me started…frankly that’s beside the point.

I got a call from my Gynecologic Oncologist just two days ago, on the 26th. She immediately asked where I was, which in my heart, I knew was a bad sign. I was right. She informed me that my cancer has recurred. Dammit.

While we aren’t sure of the exact blueprints of this next treatment journey, I will give you as much information as we currently know. The mass that appeared in the CT scan is exactly the size of a softball. Yes, you read that correctly…a softball. Honestly, it’s one centimeter bigger than an adult softball. But that’s semantics. At it’s widest, it’s nearly four inches (9.8cm) in diameter. Shocking, I know. Clearly, this type of cancer is proving to be as aggressive as we were initially told. In August there were no signs of cancer, and only three months later, there is a beastly tumor the size of a softball growing inside my body. This circular mass has been located in the same general vicinity as my original golf-ball sized tumor. It is near my pelvic region, and close to my mid abdomen around my belly button.  It’s closer to my left side, and I can actually feel it.

About one month ago, I began experiencing pain in this exact location of my lower abdomen. Because the doctors usually push around my stomach when I get any check-ups, I thought I’d give it a go. I definitely didn’t expect to feel anything. But I did. I felt a hard mass. Because having already battled cancer often tends to making us survivors paranoid and hyper sensitive to any changes in our bodies, I tried to brush it off as nothing. Three weeks ago, I had a regular three-month follow-up with my doctor and informed her about this sudden change in my body. She explained that based on how our intestinal tract works, it most likely was just a back up of stool and that she couldn’t feel anything during her internal exam. In fact, my pap smear results were normal. However, the pain continued and progressed. Days went by and the mass remained. I chalked it up to being constipated. Maybe I was just more backed up than I thought.

Now that the CT results are in, we can most definitely connect the pain and hardness to this mass that has been discovered. My constipation is also a symptom. While, we don’t know exactly where this monster is thriving, my doctors believe it’s getting it’s blood supply from my bowels. That means lower intestinal tract. Hence the constipation. This beast is sucking the life out of my lower organs. And, have I mentioned how huge it is? I’m still shocked.

Where we go from here is a little up in the air right now. Surgery, radiation, and chemo are all on the table again. It’s a matter of the sequence of these treatments in determining the effectiveness. Late yesterday afternoon we met with a General Oncologist that my Gyn Oncologist recommended we see. Once we met this doctor, we immediately adored him. God has sent us another key player for our team. He is a genius when it comes to chemotherapy. He knows all the different types of drugs and their side effects. His knowledge immediately put us at ease. In addition, he treats a lot of lung cancer patients. Most lung carcinomas are similar to my Neuroendrocrine cancer. He knows his stuff. All of my doctors do, and we are so grateful for that. After explaining to us what we were dealing with, he began to talk about treatment options. Surgery first, then chemo? Chemo to shrink it and then surgery to remove it? While my current three Oncologists (Radiation Onc, Gynecologic Onc, and General Onc) are well versed, they really want the opinion of another expert.

As most know, MD Anderson is the biggest and best cancer center in America. Through word of mouth and recommendations, we have learned of a special doctor in Houston who is the lead researcher for my exact type of cancer. He is continually studying how my carcinoma works and what the most effective treatments are. Therefore, we need to get to Houston to see this expert immediately. My Oncologists here agree that I need to get out there as soon as possible… Like yesterday. However, remember the hoopla with our insurance? Again, they deem it unnecessary for me to travel outside of our basic providers to receive a consultation or treatment out-of-state. Completely asinine.  Essentially, they require that my doctors here call the authorization department of our insurance company and explain the urgency and necessity of this MD Anderson visit. Being fed up, I asked what it would cost to get an appointment without using our insurance and the receptionist answered, “$27,000.” Needless to say, we need insurance to agree to cover this out-of-state doctor’s visit. That’s a huge prayer request of ours right now.

Long story short, we need to get this ball rolling. This cancer is fast-growing and more aggressive than I ever imagined. I’m desperate to get this monster out of me. I want it gone, and I will do whatever it takes. I’ll go to Zimbabwe to receive a shot made from monkey saliva if I need to. Whatever it takes. And not to mention, this sucker hurts. We knew cancer was mean, but this is at a whole different level. My stomach throbs, and any time I touch it, it fires back… Umm, no sir. You will not win. We are going to poke, prod, cut, poison, and demolish you. Get the hell out of me.

It is imperative that I receive a PET scan in the next few days. Our team and I want to make sure it hasn’t grown anywhere else. They definitely want to check my lungs and my brain for any traces of malignancy. My team of doctors is having my case meeting today to discuss my situation and what the best course of action they believe will be. They are also going to conference call the doctor in Houston to try and see if any strings can be pulled for us to get in to see him. We could be going to Houston as early as tonight or the beginning of next week. I could also be in surgery as early as next week. And chemo might or might not start before then. Everything is dependent on my local doctors communicating with this Oncologist in Houston and getting on the same page. They understand the urgency of my situation, and are willing to do whatever it takes as well. We are all in agreement as far as getting this ball rolling as quickly and effectively as we can. We will continue to keep you updated as soon as we have a more solid plan.

Initially the news rocked us. I was deeply saddened and frustrated that we would have to go through all of this again. My husband was pissed. His anger was directed at God. “How could you allow this to happen again!?” But after a night of grieving, we woke up yesterday with a fire under our asses. My strong guardian of a husband, wrapped his arms around me and said, “It may sound weird, but I’m not scared at all.” And I feel the same. We aren’t scared because we are confident that with God on our side, we can beat this. We will beat this. I will be cancer-free again. And for more than a few weeks this time. I am determined to fight this battle and stomp on the enemy’s intentions. The enemy wants to defeat me, and there is no way we are going to let that happen. I’ve already told God that he’s going to have to drag me kicking and screaming out of this world. As incredible as Heaven sounds, I’m definitely not ready to make it my home yet. I’ve got way too many things to do on Earth. We’ve got babies to be had, memories to be made, and many more years to experience. Our faith is strong and our fire is burning. We know we are about to endure another intense and difficult battle, but there is nothing to fear. After all, “God has overcome the world.” Our victory is in Him.

Cancer will not win, because I will not lose.

Mark 4:35-40 (The Message)

“Late that day he said to them, ‘Let’s go across to the other side.’ They took him in the boat as he was. Other boats came along. A huge storm came up. Waves poured into the boat, threatening to sink it. And Jesus was in the stern, head on a pillow, sleeping! They roused him, saying, ‘Teacher, is it nothing to you that we’re going down?’ Awake now, he told the wind to pipe down and said to the sea, ‘Quiet! Settle down!’ The wind ran out of breath; the sea became smooth as glass. Jesus reprimanded the disciples: ‘Why are you such cowards? Don’t you have any faith at all?'”

Are You Beautiful?

Does the word “beautiful” define you?

Let’s talk about beauty. The hard fact is, as a woman diagnosed, it’s not uncommon to feel a sense of loss when it comes to our looks. I mean come on, when your hair starts falling out, your body is either increasing or decreasing in size, your face is expressing the enormity of stress by the monstrosity of wrinkles, and your doctor is painting on more and more scars, it’s natural to not feel attractive anymore. Not only have I struggled with not feeling beautiful through this diagnosis, but also not feeling comfortable in my own skin.

Currently, this is one of the largest topics in the world. Society is driven by physical appearance and beauty. It’s sweeping the covers of every magazine. Fashion, makeup, hair, and the perfect weight is probably on the top of every woman’s priority list. No? …Maybe it’s just me. From birth, we are trained to allow society to define our personal beauty. Our “look” must fit into the world’s ideals. Sure, some people don’t abide by the “rules”, but we all care what everyone else thinks of us.

As a woman who has valiantly fought (and beat) cancer, and has undergone a slew of cancer treatments, I can boldly say that society’s definition of what is beautiful sucks. Where are the women who are proud of who they are and what they look like, regardless of what the world tells them? Where do bald women fit in? Why must our bodies resemble that of a prepubescent twelve year old girl? With as much cancer prevalent in our world, why aren’t there more examples of what true beauty is? Why do we, as women diagnosed, feel like we must cover up our truth? Now, don’t get me wrong. Yes, I wore a wig for a lot of my baldalicious battle. Yes, I am currently working out like a crazy person trying to drop these last twenty pounds. Yes, I wore false lashes when my own grew thin. But, I am continually learning that the world should not be the one to define me.

A few months ago, while waiting for treatment one day and rockin’ my bald dome, a woman approached me and asked if I would like to speak to someone about wigs. She continued by asking if I would also like some hats to cover my head. Although I know she was well-intentioned, I couldn’t help but feel unattractive. Thoughts emerged: Why must I cover this up? Why should I hide the fact that I am fighting for my life? Why does hair matter? Am I not beautiful? Oh, and by the way lady, I already own a wig and several hats. I just chose to be me today. Is that a problem? 

Along with beauty comes self-worth. If we can downgrade the world’s voice and upgrade God’s voice, our views would drastically transform. If we can see ourselves through His eyes and not theirs, our truth can be revealed. I am learning that I should embrace my differences with pride. Sure, I have a short G.I. Jane hairstyle going on right now and it brings a lot of attention, but instead of allowing those disproving eyes to seep into my spirit, I counteract them with a smile and remind myself that I am beautiful regardless of what anyone else thinks. Just because it’s uncommon to see women without (or with much less) hair doesn’t mean it’s unattractive. Can we, as women currently baldalicious or rockin’ the buzz cut, set a new standard for the definition of beautiful? In fact, as women with or without a diagnosis, can we help other females find their value within?

We are our worst critics. True. We nitpick every fault we have and oftentimes shine light on those flaws. But we’ve got to stop seeing what we see, and instead, see what God sees. When it comes down to it, we will never be good enough for ourselves. But we are good enough for him…more than enough. God sees us without flaws; After all, He was the one to create us. We are a custom design that should be esteemed, not shamed. Hair or no hair, size fourteen or size two, blue or brown eyes, black or white skin, tall or short, it doesn’t matter. Let me repeat, it does not matter. Do we have a kind heart and gentle spirit? Do we shine light or exude darkness? Are we encouraging to one another? Are we forgiving? Do we choose to find our worth in the world or in Him? Now that’s what really matters.

So I ask again, are you beautiful?

1 Peter 3:3-4 (NIV)

“Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.”

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.”

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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