Posts Tagged ‘treatment’

18
May
2012

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.”

27
Feb
2012

Emotional Deflation

Another day in the life of a chemo patient here, friends. I got a blood draw today, and the results came back good! It’s a great day over here when any results are positive ones.

Now you know I can’t just be super happy and cheery all of the time, don’t you? Here’s the hard facts. I got some news today that traveled differently through my system than it had before. I say it like that, because I was given this news back when I was rediagnosed with neuro-endocrine cancer, however, it didn’t register completely then. Mind you, when someone tells you that you have a way worse scenario, one that is “hard to cure” and “resistant to treatment”, most other things fly right by your senses.

Today, as I was rescheduling another blood draw, getting filled up on prescriptions, and asking questions about this annoying stomach queasiness that’s been haunting me in the mornings, I learned the true extent of my treatment. This isn’t going to be as short of a journey as I thought it would be. Well, truth be told, I never thought it would be “short”, per se. But I wasn’t expecting this to be a 6 month process just to get to remission. That’s what it’s going to be. At least 6 months… if I remain healthy and don’t have any set-backs during that period. Because it was hard for me to even comprehend what my next 6 months will look like without a visual, I will generously supply you with one.

Again, below is a schedule of what my treatment will look like, as long as I remain healthy. Of course, this could change as the time goes on. Praying for miracles, though!

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

6 Weeks Radiation with Chemo 1/week

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks off

The End of Treatment!

Doesn’t that just look like a hell-of-a-road? Ugh, I can’t tell you how deflated I was when I heard the news in depth. When I heard that treatment wouldn’t even be complete until July 30, as long as I remain healthy, it was a punch to the gut. 6 months?! I don’t want to go through this that long! God is teaching me perseverance, patience, and endurance. Why give me an easy struggle? Is there even such a thing? He’s making me work for the finish line, and for that, I’m surprisingly grateful. I can’t imagine what better qualities I will have by the fall.

God’s still with me on this one. One incredibly obvious way can be noted through my lack of projectiles. He has held me firmly in His grip, and has not allowed any sickness (besides the minor queasiness) to enter my body. Hallelujah. The nurses told me to expect vomiting last Friday through this Wednesday, and I am here to happily report, I haven’t thrown up once! My God is still a BIG God. He is here with me. He is listening to me. He is cheering for me. He will heal me. He is for me. WOW. As easy as it would be to fall flat, and question where God is through all of this, I am only drawn closer to Him. I feel His presence stronger than I ever have, and for that I can’t begin to express my gratitude. Feeling His presence is overwhelming, and it’s simple to receive. Just ask. I promise.

Romans 8:31-39 (The Message Version)

“So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture: 

   They kill us in cold blood because they hate you. 
   We’re sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.

None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.”

23
Feb
2012

Chemo Cocktails

I had another good couple of days, friends! Reason to celebrate! Today I had my second day of chemotherapy, and it went well. Before my chemo treatments, I truly had no idea what to expect, but now I’m much relieved. However, I know that rougher days are to come. For now though, I live in the present. I rejoice in the good days. I laugh when something is funny. I cry when I need to. And I hug everyone. I’ve learned that’s the only way I can be nowadays. Living in the now. Not worrying about what scary days might be ahead of me. Living in this day, not tomorrow.

I, myself, always wondered what chemo was like. Does it hurt? Can you feel it? Do you get sick immediately? Does it make you tired? Now, that I am experiencing it, I can share my knowledge! I will answer these questions with the statement “so far” before them, because frankly, these answers might change the deeper I get into treatment. Chemo does not hurt, nor can I feel it. Even though, they hook up all of these bags of liquid poison to my body, I truly can’t tell the difference. Well, that might be a little white lie, because now that I’m writing this, I remember that when my IV is filled with Benedryl or Zofran, I do feel a little cross-eyed and slightly loopy. But those two meds are given in the beginning of my sessions for anti-nausea purposes, and they wear off fairly quickly. I, praise the Lord, have not gotten sick. This morning I woke up with a small quiver in my stomach, but I can attribute that to not having eaten much. I hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet, folks! Once I did, I assure you, the quiver went away. The main side effect that I’m experience from these chemotherapy sessions are the exhaustion. I feel wiped out all of the time. I feel like I can never get enough sleep. It’s almost as if, instead of pumping fluids into me, they are sucking out all of my energy. By the time my sessions are complete, I just want to take a nap. If only it was that simple… These past 2 days, I haven’t been able to shut my mind off. No matter how tired I am, I seem to stay awake and find things to do. I know I need to quit that, and just give into the sleep. My white blood cells need a break, after all. They are fighting awfully hard.

Chemo sessions are cleansing. Wow, that’s weird to even admit. I know that by the end of them, I will be over it and ready to move on, but for now it’s the truth. The room in which I get these treatments is positive. The other women who ingest these cocktails beside me are positive. And the nurses are extremely positive. When I enter, I am greeted with smiles. Always. Every patients’ chemo schedules are different, so within these past couple of days, I have not been met by the same patients. The nurses however, remain the same. I can honestly say, I love them. I adore my nurses. They are so happy, exuberant, calming, and positive. I’m sure they have their own life troubles going on behind the scenes, but they always put them aside to take care of us. I will also say that I love my fellow cancer fighters. These women are all so strong, and there is an air of encouragement, that I drench myself in when I am in their presence. Our treatment room is a decent size, filled with about 8 recliners. Typically, it’s me and 5-6 other women receiving treatment at the same time. We all have different mixtures of medicinal poison, but no matter the drink, we refer to them as our cocktails. The first time I heard one of the women say that, I was shocked, but dang, isn’t it the truth!? And such a fun way to spin the current circumstance!

Tomorrow will be my last day of this 3 day stint of chemotherapy. That’s very exciting! Just one more step to recovery. Each step, no matter how difficult or different than the previous, is totally worth it. I have cancer, and I will do whatever it takes to fight this damn thing. Let’s just get it out, no matter how painful or tiring the process may be. I will succeed. Cancer will not.

Romans 12:12

“Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.”

18
Feb
2012

Port Procedure

Today has been the first day since diagnosis that I have felt like an actual human! Sounds odd I’m sure, but with the amounts of tests and doctors’ visits I’ve had, lately I’d more accurately describe myself as an experiment. Not to mention undergoing invasive surgery and a minor surgery within a week of each other. Life has been so busy and chaotic physically and emotionally, so getting a day where I wake up feeling wonderful and rejuvenated is a welcomed change! I felt so great today, that my mom and I even went around town to do some shopping. We came home empty-handed, but the excursion itself was such a treat for me.

Not only is a day like today a treat, but considering its only a day after my port placement procedure, it’s a true blessing. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned since diagnosis has been that plans can no longer be “set in stone”.  You just can’t do it. Well, let me rephrase: the only definite planning that my life contains now is planning for treatment. It’s number one. But as far as planning anything even as minor as running to the grocery store or the bank, it’s now up in the air. Scheduling events is even more of a challenge. My days have recently consisted of resting, taking medication, speaking with doctors over the phone or in person at appointments, chatting with my out-of-state family via phone and FaceTime, and spending time with my mom, step-dad, pup, and most of all, my adored husband. Therefore, scheduling hangouts with our closest friends has proven an extreme challenge. My body gets tired at all the wrong moments, my pain kicks in right when I think I’m feeling good, and just when I think I’m getting settled into the current nest of immediate cancer news, more updates appear. This, however, will not be forever. Today has proven that. I will not always be stuck at home. I will not always be sick. I will not always be tired. I will not always be in pain. I will not. I refuse. That’s not how I’m going to live my life. It’s an oxymoron in itself: living life tired? Doesn’t sound like really living to me. It’s not only a good lesson to those of us affected with cancer, but also to everyone, no matter the circumstance.

As most know, I was at the hospital again yesterday. The occasion this time was to receive my port. It’s actually referred to as a “power port”, and that in itself makes me feel powerful. Assuming most of you are like me (pre-diagnosis), cancer terms are not in your vocabulary. So, let me explain. I was given a pamphlet that informs me all about my port, so I will be quoting directly from it. “Your Bard PowerPort device is a small device (about the size of a quarter) used to carry medicine into the bloodstream. It has one or two small basins that are sealed with a soft silicone top, called a septum. The port is placed under the skin on your chest or arm. The port connects to a small, soft tube called a catheter. The catheter is placed inside one of the large central veins that take blood to your heart. When a special needle is put into the septum, it creates ‘access’ to your bloodstream. Medicine and fluids can be given through the needle and blood samples can be withdrawn.” I’ve included a couple of pictures, to better illustrate my device. In case you are wondering, yes my port is purple. It’s actually more of a fuchsia purple in person, but regardless. Those who know me, know that girly is my thing. If I’m having a device implanted in my skin, it better be a girly color.
The procedure itself was only 8 minutes long. That was shocking to me. 8 minutes to implant a device under my skin? Seems a little rushed, don’t you think Doc? (Apparently, that’s why I’m a patient and not a doctor…) I checked into the hospital at 11am, and was not allowed any food past midnight. I, however, could take my prescribed medicine and drink water up until check-in. No big deal right? Wrong. My last dose of pain meds was at 8am the morning of my procedure. Check in was at 11am and the surgery didn’t begin until 2pm. That’s more than 6 hours since my last dose. That’s 3 hours past my scheduled dose, therefore, I was in the most pain I had been in since my hysterectomy. It was excruciating. By the time I was hooked up to my IV, wheeled into the operating room, and told to shimmy onto the operating table I was nearly in tears. I’ve been on a very scheduled pain management regimen, so I hadn’t had much time to experience the depth of pain that my hysterectomy surgery was causing me. This lack of medicinal intervention quickly put the pain on the forefront of my mind.

Once I got onto the operating table, and the nurses prepped me for surgery, my lovely pain management nurse asked me if I had ever had a margarita. Why, yes I’ve had a margarita, Nurse! Why would you ask me such a question before I am to be cut open; interesting conversation starter, don’t you think? She soon informed me that she would be giving me the equivalent of 2 margaritas through my IV. Oh, joy! This is going to be fun. I was given what is called “conscious sedation”, which means I am awake and alert throughout the entirety of the procedure. This frightened me greatly before surgery, but 2 margaritas in, I was fine with it. They placed what appeared to me like a small blue tarp over my face, and I was told to look to my left. They inserted a numbing injection to my right collarbone area, which took effect pretty quickly. Then my doctor walked in, whom I met in pre-op, and he quickly began the implantation. Not only did he start the procedure, but he also started up conversation with me. What a nice guy. Just another nice doctor in my cancer adventure. It’s been amazing. We talked about how long I had lived in Denver, but mostly about my immense love for my husband. How we met. How long we had been together. How I knew by our second date that I wanted to marry him. Friends, I deeply adore my husband. This wasn’t just the margaritas talking. He is my best friend, my encourager, my lover, my rock, my support, my personal comedian, my teammate, and my heart. Pretty soon, I was interrupted and told that I was done. My surgery was complete. What? Dang, that was quick!

This surgery did not hurt at all. It wasn’t even uncomfortable. Thus far, this has been one of the easiest things I have undergone since diagnosis. I merely felt pressure in the area in which my doctor was pushing my port and catheter under my skin. What a relief! Praise God for allowing some of these procedures to be easy! What I’m realizing, the deeper and deeper I get into treatment, is that the peace and grace of God is all I need. Not to say that I don’t get nervous, anxious, and afraid before all treatments (that’s my flesh, folks), but my spirit is continually drenched in the calm of Jesus. He has gone before me on this one. Just like everything before. He has always been here for me, and He will never leave me. He has my back. He has scouted the road ahead to make sure I can handle it. And, even though at times I don’t think I can, with God all things are possible. I will conquer this battle. But, ultimately it’s not just me. It’s Him. He is ever-working through me to fight this enemy. He will succeed. He has promised me that. Hallelujah.

Exodus 14:14 (NIV)

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

15
Feb
2012

Things Happen So Quickly

Right when I feel like I’m settling into the current circumstances, things change. In fact, it’s been the pattern. With every doctors appointment I attend, I leave cradling worse news. I was not looking forward to my appointment with my oncologist yesterday. My husband and parents were trying to encourage me to continue seeing the positive side, but I just felt I wouldn’t come home with good news.

My feeling was right.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I appreciate my oncologist’s personality. She is straight and to the point, but not harsh. She is compassionate, but not overly emotional. My husband and mom accompanied me into her office, and we all sat down. My doctor began by saying they have further identified the actual type of cancer cells I have.  Below I will list the straight facts of what I’ve learned. I’m extremely exhausted today, so I won’t be able to put as much emotion into my writing, like I typically do. Maybe, once I’m up and energized, I will add my response. Point is, this is crappy news. It changes the whole ball game. It’s like going onto the baseball field expecting to play the Astros (no offense) and finding out you’ll be playing the Yankees. It’s still a game, but you practiced and were prepared for playing against one specific team. Suddenly, a new team shows up and you’re left thinking… Dammit, this truly is going to be a battle. The difference is, God is still by my side and will fight hard on my front line. I am more and more thankful for Him everyday.

Here are the facts:

  1. The results of the biopsies came back and show that the other lymph nodes have not yet been affected by the cancer. This is good news. This means that the doctor removed the cancerous cervix and lymph node, and no other area is showing positive for cancer. Praise God.
  2. Because of the biopsies, they were further able to identify my specific type of cancer cells. Originally I was diagnosed with squamous cell cancer. There are 2 very common cancer types, one being squamous cell carcinoma, and the other being adenocarcinoma. Typically those are the most common cancers seen. However, there are a bunch of other little random and very rare types. Neuroendocrine cancer is an extremely rare type. That’s what I’ve been re-diagnosed with.
  3. Neuroendocrine cancer is an SOB cancer. This monstrous cancer is far worse and meaner than the 2 most common types. My doctor informed me that neuroendocrine cancer is very difficult to cure, and is extremely resistant to treatment.

Because my cancer is hard to cure and resists treatment, we have to get the treatment ball rolling a LOT quicker than we had planned. I start chemo next Wednesday (2/22). My port is being surgically placed under my skin this Friday (2/17). This first round of chemo will be for 3 straight days. Wednesday I will receive 5-6 hours of chemo, and both Thursday and Friday I will receive 3-4 hours of treatment.

After my 3 days of chemo, I will get a 2 week break to rest. Then my radiation/chemo program begins. It’s the same as I stated before. For 5 1/2 weeks, I’ll go in 5 days a week (M-F) to receive radiation. Once a week during that time, I will receive a shot of chemo.

Once the radiation/chemo program is complete, I will have another 2 weeks off from treatment. Then I will begin my next set of chemo rounds. 3 days in a row. Similar to the first time. After this sandwich effect of treatment is complete, they will reassess me, and see what we need to do from then on.

Here are some personal thoughts that I dwell on. I will definitely lose all of my hair within a month. I’m actually not too frightened by this. I’m thankful for a pretty face, and nice skin. And even more thankful that I’m a makeup artist and can make even a bald woman look hot. My husband’s an artist and we’ve already talked about some artwork he could draw on my head… Ya know, like a baseball, football helmet, or field of flowers. Just comedic ideas, friends. I also know that I’m going to be very sick and weak pretty soon. I won’t be able to do much of anything. That’s a bummer. Being as independent as I am, this will be a huge adjustment. I am going to have to completely rely on my husband and family for any needs I might have. But it’s a good thing I’ve got a stellar husband and incredible family to help me with this!

Like I said before, today is a day full of exhaustion. I really need to rest. My incision pain is bad and my intestines have remembered how to work, so I’ve got a little stomach ache. My apologies for not being as fun as I typically am in my entires. But I’ll be back to posting soon. Just need to lay down and catch up on my ZZZ’s. Thank you all for your understanding, support, prayers, and encouragement. You all rock.

2 Chronicles 20:15-17 (Message Version)

“He said, ‘Attention everyone- all of you from out of town, all you from Jerusalem, and you King Jehosaphat-God’s word: Don’t be afraid; don’t pay any mind to this vandal horde. This is God’s war, not yours. Tomorrow you’ll go after them; see, they’re already on their way up the slopes of Ziz; you’ll meet them at the end of the ravine near the wilderness of Jeruel. You won’t have to lift a hand in this battle; just stand firm, Judah and Jerusalem, and watch God’s saving work for you take shape. Don’t be afraid, don’t waver. March out boldly tomorrow-God is with you.'”

08
Feb
2012

Surgery Day: Update #1

Hello everyone,

This is Matt, Stephanie’s husband, and as I type this, Stephanie is in the operating room. I must start by saying that we are so encouraged and thankful for the support and prayers that we have received. To know that we have such a strong group of prayer warriors is such a comfort and from the bottom of our hearts, we thank each and every one of you.

Stephanie and I arrived here at the hospital around 10:00 this morning, leading a caravan of her parents and her grandparents. It seemed to take no time at all before they called her back to get her all prepped. Half an hour later, I found myself at her bedside in pre-op, and she was as beautiful as ever, even in her hospital gown. I prayed for her and left to the waiting area to find a group of friends and family gathered together. Space in pre-op was limited, so everyone went back in pairs to see her. I was the first and the last to see her, and although I was anxious, it was the best relief to see her in good spirits, glowing, and full of faith.

Before they kicked me out of the pre-op area, we were joined briefly by Stephanie’s oncologist, who would be performing the operation. It was a comfort to see her too because she displayed great confidence and assured me that she’d “take care of my girl.” She took the time to have her picture taken with Steph beforehand and soon Stephanie was entrusted to the care of the doctors.

After returning to the waiting area, those of us who were staying prayed. A good half hour was taken to lift my wife in prayer. Prayers of thanksgiving, healing, faith, hope and love were abundant and the Spirit of God filled the air. It was powerful.

So now, we wait. We wait for a little white phone to ring. I will post another update once we hear more news. Thank you again for your faith and prayers, it means the world to us.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (Message Version)
“Be cheerful no matter what; pray all the time; thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live.”

04
Feb
2012

Surgery 411

Good evening friends! Just wanted to let y’all know more about my surgery this coming week.

My radical hysterectomy is scheduled for Wednesday 2/8 at 12:30pm. I will be checking in at the hospital around 10:30am. You are welcome to come by and pray with us beforehand. The more prayer, encouragement, love, and support we can get would be wonderful! I spoke with my Anesthesiologist yesterday, and he informed me that surgery should take 2-3 hours, and then I’ll be in recovery for 2 more hours. Most likely, due to the invasive nature of this type of procedure, I’ll probably be pretty out of it once I’m settled into my room. I’ll be on high doses of pain meds (hallelujah!), so I know I won’t be up for much conversation. I will however, be staying at the hospital for about 3 days, so there might be more time to visit with me then. Matt will keep you updated through my blog regarding how surgery goes and how I’m doing. I know many of you want to help in some way, and  I need you to know that that is so meaningful to both Matt and I. My mom is setting up a schedule for those who want to make us meals or help out in other ways once I’m back home. If you’d like to send cards, letters, care packages, etc, please feel free! The kind words and comments that you all have shared on this blog, have been extremely uplifting. It makes me full of joy when I read your encouraging thoughts and prayers. Keep them coming!

I must say, the closer it gets, the more nervous I become. After all, I’ve only had my wisdom teeth removed. I’ve never even had braces! No broken bones. No stitches. This experience is going to be brand new to me. In just a matter of days, I’ll be knocked out, cut open, organs removed, and put back together. I’ll wake up with a nice incision on my lower belly. I’m praying it’s not very large. I can guarantee that I’ll be very thankful for the pain meds, because I know I’ll be very sore.

Do any of you ever think how weird this whole thing is? I have that thought every single day. This entire situation is so weird. I have cancer. Not only that, but I have stage 3 cancer. I have to receive all 3 types of treatment: surgery, radiation, and chemo. My Radiologist just informed me the other day that if the treatments don’t work, this will be a fatal disease. Thanks, Doc…I figured as much. Weird! Crazy! Unexpected! All of the above. Never would I have imagined that I would go through something like this. In fact, my husband and I have had conversations about rewinding back to our wedding day. Who would’ve thought that not even 2 years later, I would be diagnosed with cancer. Surely not us.

I’ve had some ups and downs in this journey thus far, and I know there will be many more to come. My faith, fortunately, has not wavered. God is the great physician, and for that I’m immensely blessed. He’s here with me now, will be with me during surgery and the many radiation and chemo treatments, and will cross the finish line of remission right beside me.

If you need further information, such as our address, or the hospital information, feel free to contact me!

Deuteronomy 31:6 (Message Version)

“Be strong. Take courage. Don’t be intimidated. Don’t give them second thought because God, your God, is striding ahead of you. He’s right there with you. He won’t let you down; He won’t leave you.”

02
Feb
2012

PET Scan Results

Yesterday (2/1), I was invited to a wonderful luncheon that my husband’s company hosts. They are a missions organization, and send missionaries all over the world. Once a year, all of the missionaries come back to Colorado and have a week-long conference. I was lucky enough to be invited to enjoy a wonderful lunch, and hear incredible testimonies and stories from people who work all over the world.

I arrived at about noon, and within 10 minutes my phone began ringing. I used to never answer calls in which I didn’t recognize the number, however, that’s just one more thing that has changed. I’ve gotten pretty acclimated to stopping whatever I’m doing and answering my phone for any and everyone at this point, because I never know if it’s one of my doctors calling. Well this time it was.

My Oncologist was on the other end, and told me that my PET scan results were back. Remember I had to ingest all of those fun liquids prior to my test? Well, the scan was taken to determine if there were any more cancer cells in my body. They scanned me from head to toe. Results showed that my cancer has indeed spread. Not very far, but still. It has started to attack one of my lymph nodes.

This means, I will be visiting my Radiologist today to get further explanation as to what needs to happen now. My Oncologist and Radiologist need to determine if I’ll need radiation before or after surgery. She didn’t explain too much over the phone, so I’ll have to wait and find out what this all means in a couple of hours. I did learn from the receptionist who made my appointment, that first I’ll meet with the nurse to go over medical history, and then I’ll watch a movie about radiation. Great, a movie date for the man and me. Once we have been knowledged on radiation, we will then meet with the Radiologist. I suppose he’ll fill me in on what we have to do now.

I did mention to ask, if indeed I would need radiation, if I would lose my hair. She said that the type of radiation they would be using will not cause hair loss. Another gift!

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (Message Version)

“So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.”

01
Feb
2012

D-Day

D-Day for us means Diagnosis Day. When I woke up that morning, my first thought was, “Today is the 25th, and I just turned 25 this month.” It may not seem important to you, but those two “25’s” will forever help me remember this date.

To say this Wednesday began like any other is a lie. I was beyond nervous! My husband was with me, per my doctor’s request. Luckily, I’m blessed to have a partner who is the calm in my storms. He was holding my hand and encouraging me throughout our entire 17 hour (not really) wait in the waiting room. My nurse then came in and directed us to an exam room. After another seemingly 10 hours, my gynecologist finally arrived. Thank goodness she has the perfect combination of emotion and reality in her demeanor. If she hadn’t this meeting could have gone far different.

After sitting down, she gave it to me straight. With sadness in her eyes, she announced that I have cervical cancer. Although, I had imagined that idea in my head, I never could have been fully prepared to hear those words. Once it set in, my initial reaction was, “Well, now we finally have an answer!” Needless to say, my doctor was a little shocked at my response to this life-altering news. I asked if I could give her a hug. She said, “Of course! I wanted to right when I came in, but didn’t want to freak you out!”. Oh, Doc… a hug won’t freak me out! I dramatically thanked her for being such a blessing in our lives and for being the one and only doctor willing to go a little further and investigate something suspicious. She was and is my personal detective.

I then began to explain why my reaction was relief in hearing this news. Never thought you’d hear someone who just got diagnosed with cancer be relieved, did you?! Well, my relief stems from this ongoing unknown battle. I finally found out what I was fighting! When you know everything about your opponent, its weaknesses, strengths, favorite hang-outs, morals, and fighting tactics, you can better defeat it. Oh wait, did I say morals? Cancer doesn’t have any. It fights dirty. Which means, I have to fight dirtier. Now I finally know what to do. Now I am able to pick up my armor and weapons. I felt like I had been fighting a war with only my hands.

Once our hugging session was complete, my doctor further went on to explain to me the technicalities of the situation. I was staged at 1b2 originally. That’s right in between 1 and 2. There are 5 stages, so being in between the lowest was another relief. From what she could tell, the cancer is only on my cervix. My tumor is 4cm…about the size of a golf ball.

There are 3 options for treatment.

  1. Surgery
  2. Radiation
  3. Chemotherapy

She highly recommended surgery. After asking what that would entail, I almost immediately regretted the question. I will have to have what’s called a “radical hysterectomy”. For those who don’t know what that is (I wish I still didn’t know), it’s a procedure in which the surgeon removes the entire uterus, cervix included, the surrounding walls, and the top part of the inside of my vagina. Luckily, the cancer hasn’t affected my ovaries, so we can keep those. Hooray. However, you kinda need a uterus to carry a baby. So, without one, I will never be able to be pregnant. For those who know me, this is a HUGE blow. I’ve spent my whole life desperately wanting children. Not only am I a stylist, but I’m also a nanny, and therefore my adoration of kids is obvious. Never in a million years, would I think me being pregnant would be compromised. We’ve imagined having children with disabilities, miscarriages, twins, but never the deleted option of pregnancy. Oh, well. Like I said, seemingly sarcastic above, hooray that we get to keep my ovaries. Seriously, HOORAY! Ovaries are what produce eggs. Eggs combined with sperm create babies. Babies only need A womb to live in for the first 9 months. Add this all together, and you get the option of surrogacy. Praise God for women out there who give their wombs as a gift to those of us who can’t carry our own.

Due to the option of surrogacy, my gynecologist further went on to explain that we will need to see a fertility doctor. I also need to meet with an oncologist- aka: cancer doctor. Thankfully, she knows a lot of great doctors in the area, and referred me to the best. And I mean, the best. You’ll find out in my upcoming entries, how great my team of doctors truly is. Not only will I be blessed with top-notch doctors, but God slipped another blessing into the mix. In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) is extremely expensive. However, the most expensive part of the process are the meds they have to put you on. Guess what? The Lance Armstrong Foundation (Fertile Hope) will be covering the costs for ALL of my fertility meds. How in the world do I qualify for that?! Well apparently, Lance Armstrong, because he fought cancer, started Fertile Hope for people affected by cancer who are unable to have children the traditional way. Thank you, God, for healing Lance Armstrong of cancer, so he can help us have children! He definitely thinks ahead. God always covers all the bases. My next step from this point will be to meet with my oncologist. I look forward to finding out more about this defeatable beast inside of me.

I am reminded that God has gone before me. Hallelujah.

Deuteronomy 30:8

“God is striding ahead of you. He’s right there with you. He won’t let you down; He won’t leave you. Don’t be intimidated. Don’t worry.”

01
Feb
2012

“Bring Your Husband”

On Tuesday 1/24, the day after my colposcopy, I received a call from my Gynecologist’s nurse. I’ll never forget that phone conversation. She simply stated that instead of having my follow-up appointment on Monday, at my doctor’s request I needed to come in tomorrow (Wednesday the 25th). If only she had said to just come in tomorrow… however, she added, “and why don’t you bring your husband with you, so we can talk about treatment.”

Wow.

Here were my thoughts:

  1. My doctor wants me to come in tomorrow instead of Monday? This is obviously urgent.
  2. I can’t go by myself, she wants Matt to come with me. Why? So he can pick me up off the ground, once I hear the news?
  3. This won’t be a fun conversation. Treatment is in my future.

I received that call at 4:30pm, and after informing Matt, we immediately went to my mom and step-dad’s house to process the news. I’m a “worst-case scenario” kind of girl. I let my mind quickly jump to the worst of cases in any and every situation. My thinking behind this is, it’s a way to protect myself from being shocked. And, once I know what the worst case could be, I can dream up a solution.

We soon began the discussion and brainstorms of what could possibly be the diagnosis. Cancer? Ectopic pregnancy? Ginormous fibroid? Although, I did let the idea of cancer enter my mind, I wasn’t ready to figure out a solution for that particular case. If it were to be a fibroid, that would be fine. Solution- surgery to remove it…no biggie.

I now believe that the reason I wasn’t ready to brainstorm solutions for a cancer diagnosis was because God only wanted me to see one thing at a time.

Matthew 6:34 (Message Version)

“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”

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