One Year and More Results

As of yesterday, I have lived knowing I have cancer for one year.  In some ways, it feels like that year has been 10 years long, and in other ways, it feels like I got diagnosed just yesterday.  I spent my morning yesterday reading my blog entries from beginning to end.  I have never ever gone back to read a single one of them before yesterday.  After I publish, I never go back, I always just look forward and don't want to reminise.  But yesterday, I felt compelled to go back a reread all of it.  It was actually a great reminder to see where we were, where we've come, and all that we have conquered.  It was good for me to go back and see how much my body has been through in one year and how much my heart and spirit have grown.  It was good to go back and see how sick I was in comparison to how good I feel right now.  It was good to remember some of the hard days and how much stronger we are because of them.

After reminiscing, it was time to face another blow yesterday afternoon.  We got to mark our one year date with another oncology appointment, ironically I was put in the room I was diagnosed in - this is the first time I have been in that room since that day.  I had my PET scan last week, and yesterday we got results.  Unfortunately, it was more bad news with a bit of good news.  The bad news is the cancer has spread to my aortic lymph nodes (these are just above my cervix).  The fact that it has metastasized means it is not stopping, it is not giving in, it is continuing to grow.  It is still relatively small and contained to a central location in my body, but it is spreading.  Our small slice of good news is that the primary tumor has shrunk slightly and the area of cancerous lymph nodes prior to surgery appears to be clear.   It's also good that it has not metastasized to other parts of my body.  But none the less, it has spread.  So now what?  We've been asking ourselves this for the past 24 hours and have not come to any conclusions yet.  There are hundreds of questions that we do not have answers for.  Did the cancer spread before my surgery and more importantly before I started my new drugs/supplements?  No one on earth knows.  Did my primary tumor shrink because of my new drugs/supplements?  No one knows.  Would my cancer have spread more if I hadn't changed my diet?  No one knows.  My doctors offered another round of chemo to attack the cancer that is still in me.  They have assured me that it won't cure me, but it could stabilize the cancer for a period of time.  But I also know I will be sick on chemo.  However, it is a different kind, and I would only have it administered once every 21 days instead of every week.  I felt absolutely no pressure to start this immediately.  My team of doctors and nurses know I'm feeling great right now, and they have left the decision to do chemo or not, up to me.  I can start whenever I choose, if I choose.  The other option is to continue with what I've been doing (dietary changes/supplements) and give this a bit more time to work.  When I was in the hospital, I knew for sure I did not want to do chemo.  I have surprised myself by seriously considering starting again in the last 12 hours.  I feel that if I do chemo while the cancer is still small, I may have a better chance at getting it stabalized.  But in the same breath, I feel really good right now.  Maybe it's worth giving my current plan a few more months.  I know this is my decision, and there is no right or wrong answer.  So I've decided to be contimplative for the next week or so, and I'm hoping that at some point I'll know for sure what I'm supposed to do.  I continue to believe that God is the only one that really knows what has gone on in my body and the time frame of each occurrence, and He will give me wisdom for how to move forward.  So that covers the physical facts of where cancer is in my body to date.

Emotionally, we are sad.  We are frustrated, but not completely devastated.  Yes we had hoped for good news, and only good news.  But it's not the worst news.  Yes it's sad to be reminded that in some ways the cancer is growing and winning, but slowly.  Slowly means more time for me....more time to love my girls, love my husband and invest into all the people I love around me.  It was a reminder AGAIN that everyday of health is such a precious gift.  I'm carrying on, doing things I love (writing, teaching, reading, cooking) and carrying on with plans.  I was looking forward to speaking at a Women's event in November and these results will not change that.  I have lots to say right now to anyone who wants to listen, and it somehow gives this last year some validity - to think I could influence women to make good life/spiritual choices through the lessons I have learned.  Our hope remains in God, and in His ultimate plan for me and our family.  The results from yesterday don't change the plans He has for me.  Yes, I wonder why He has chosen another hard phase for me, but I will move forward in His love and by His grace.  Please don't be afraid to call, e-mail, text or talk to us.  We may be a bit sad over this round of news for a little while, but it is your love and support that helps us move forward.  Living normal life is what helps us cope.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving!  It's always been one of my favourite holidays, usually because it was my first long weekend off since the school year started.  This year is so different.  It's a holiday of reminiscing.....a year ago I was at the beginning of my journey.  I sat around our Thanksgiving table wondering what the week would hold.  My biopsy surgery took place the week after Thanksgiving last year.  What a year!!  We have been through so much.  The "we" in this sentence is a lot of people.  I often forget that, although it is me at the centre, my journey has been travelled by so many, many have been affected, many have been changed.  The "we" that I have particularly thought about this weekend is our families.  In my mind, each family member plays an important role for me.  Darryl's family (his parents and sisters) are my cheering section.  They are full of encouragement constantly.  All of them remind me often that my words matter, and they spread my words to "their people".  There are clumps of people who pray for me and cheer me on (who I don't even know) because of them.  They also help out with anything I need help with:  jobs around the house, shopping, anything.  I know I can depend on them for anything.  They pray for me more than I know, they send messages, give gifts and make phone calls just when I need them.  My parents are the ones who check on me (often - thankfully).  My mom calls most days, and she can read my mood through my voice on the phone.  She knows the instant she sees me what kind of day it is based on my body language.  She comes over to spend time with me on weeks when I'm low, just because I need someone.   I'm still my dad's little girl in many ways - his heart breaks to see me sick, but he believes I will be well with no uncertainty.  He feels good when he knows I'm feeling good.  My parents also help with so many practical needs and would drop anything to be help me with whatever I need.  One of the relationships I am particularly thankful for this Thanksgiving is my brother.  A year ago we were not close.  Even though I only have one sibling, I think we would both agree, that we let life take us away from each other.  We were always at different stages in life (we are 5 years apart), so we let our different calls in life keep us busy and uninvolved in each others' lives.  Now he is not just a brother, he's one of my best friends and a part of my medical team.  He is a doctor, and his advice and opinions are invaluable to me.  He is the one who holds some of my deepest, darkest secrets that needed to be said, but never repeated (when I was in the hospital).  He is very involved in my life now, along with his family.  His wife is also one of my dearest friends who has been there for me countless times.  I am so thankful for this.  And then there's Darryl.  He is so intertwined in my life that he can practically say, "I have cervical cancer" and he's never even had a cervix!  I am the face to my cancer, but his struggle and fight are just as fierce as mine.  In fact, sometimes I feel like his has been harder.  I can talk about my fear of death, and my fear of becoming more sick.  He cannot talk to me about his fears of my death or his fear of watching me get sick.  He has to be strong for me all the time.  I cannot even find words to tell you how amazingly he has supported me through this past year.  We have both sat in waiting rooms wondering if the other would get through a huge surgery.  We have sat by each others hospital beds hand-in-hand crying tears of joy and tears of sorrow.  He has loved me through weight loss, hair loss (I did actually loose a lot of hair - I just had a lot to lose), emotional roller coasters, and countless Dr appointments.  And through all of it, he continues to tell me he loves me and that he loves that God chose me to be his wife.  We both agree that we would rather go through all of this together than through none of it apart from each other.  I often marvel at the fact that I am married to one of the best people in this world!  I am so blessed!!   He is also a huge part of this blog.  I've encouraged him to write, but he hasn't shown interest yet, but he is the editor.  Nothing gets published without him reading, rereading and polishing what I have written.  This Thanksgiving I have thought so much about how thankful I am for him.   Of course I am thankful for my girls.  They are what keep me normal - everyday.  Even on low days, when the girls come home, I feel normal again.  They bring joy to each day and they demand so much from me that they keep me feeling normal.  And then there are all my amazing friends that love me like a sister - you all know who you are.  You are also a part of my family, and you have carried me along this journey in different ways:  listening to me vent, encouraging me (with daily texts), crying with me, making me laugh and just being there for me.  You are the ones that make me feel normal when I'm with you, but I know you are there if/when I need to cry, or talk, or sort through my thoughts.  This Thanksgiving I'm thankful for all of these people that play different, but very important, roles in my life.  I value all of you more now than I did a year ago.  You are all precious gifts to me.

This week WE are facing another bump in the cancer journey:  it's scan week.  I wasn't going to publish this, but I feel like I have been brutally honest through this journey, and I refuse to pretend everything is ok when it's not.   Please don't ask me about my results if you see me.  I won't get them until the end of next week, and I will share them when I am ready to share them.  I will decide when that is.  This week life is stressful for all of the "we's" in my life.  We wonder what will be found and pray for what won't be found.  This time around I am trying so hard to just give it to God.  He will let whatever He wants show on those scan results.  I refuse to let cancer take away my joy, take away my peace, and take away my faith.  I will try my best to believe that the future is fiction and the results are just one piece in the puzzle of my life not the final say (whatever they show).  I will cling to the promise that God gets the final say.  1 Peter 4:8-11 "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 one 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!" (The Message)

Talking, Teaching, Tingling, and a Tribute

I have had a crazy couple of weeks.  First was my chance to speak.  Darryl had the opportunity to share our story a few months ago at a men's breakfast in our church.  Since then I've thought a lot about if that is something I would like to do, could do, and what would I say.  In some ways it feels like I have so much to say, too much to say; and yet so much as been said here with all of you.   Writing words is in my comfort zone - my release, but speaking is so different.  I met with my pastor on Friday.  He's more than a pastor; he's a great friend as well.  He visits/checks in with me every so often, so I thought it was one of those get togethers, which it was.  But after a great discussion about our upcoming Sunday service, we cooperatively decided it was a good Sunday for me to share some of my thoughts.  We did it interview style, and I basically shared my thoughts about the gains and losses of living and dying.  (Phillipians 1 was the scriptures we were studying).  It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, and one of the easiest at the same time.  The thought of going in front of hundreds of people to talk about dying seemed ridiculous in my head (and my pastor's), but in my heart it felt completely right and the words came easily.  I knew God had planned this for me, and the words came straight from Him and out my mouth.  I know my interview has spread like wildfire over Facebook.  Social media has changed our world.  I thought I was speaking in church on Sunday, now hundreds are listening to my voice who don't even know me.  I do pray that everyone who hears it is blessed by it in some way.  I'm fine with it being spread; it's just so interesting to me how communication works and has changed.  The only sad part was that my mom heard it on Facebook before I had even told her I had done it - sorry mom.

Another huge highlight for me is that I'm going to start teaching again!  I got the perfect job:  I'll teach one afternoon a month at Voyageur School.  Five years ago I was trained to be a Roots of Empathy facilitator.  Roots of Empathy is a program developed by Mary Gordon; it is structured around watching a baby,  from the community, grow over the course of a year.  The baby visits the classroom once a month and through observations and discussions, we talk about feelings and care for the baby.  This is transferred into deeper more caring relationships for the participating students.  It really is a fascinating program that I love teaching.  I am so excited to be able to do it.  The guidance counsellor at Voyageur School is a dear friend.  She called me a few weeks ago asking me to be a facilitator at her school because she needed to run one more program and had no one to do it.  She knows me well, and I think she's doing it more for my benefit then hers - thank you.  Furthermore, I'll be teaching with an amazing teacher, who has been one of my many supporters this year.  I'm so excited to be in her classroom.  I taught at Voyageur for 5 years, so it feels like going home.  The whole staff has embraced me with tons of support this year (notes, e-mails, meals, nights out).  So it's great to be back, even if in a small way.  I went in to do some planning this week; it felt so good to talk like a professional.  It's been so long, and I wasn't sure if it would all come back (I still feel like I have chemo brain somedays).  But once I started it came back to me right away.  Hopefully the same will happen when I'm actually in with the students.  We start our first lessons on Oct. 9.  I can't wait!

I continue to feel really good, but unfortunately my feet have gone numb/tingly.   We spent today trying to figure it out.  I was once again amazed at the care I receive.  I called my nurse this morning to tell her about my feet at 9 am.  By 10:30 I was at the hospital having blood drawn.  By 12:30 pm I was told all my blood levels were normal.  So, based on my symptoms or lack there of, we're pretty sure the new medication I'm on is causing it.  I'm trying another supplement to counteract the buzzing in my feet.  Hopefully it stops in the next few weeks.  I am so thankful for a team of doctors and nurses that know me well and get things done quickly to help me try to find peace of mind - which I rarely have, at least not completely.  But there are versions of it.

I can't end my writing today without mentioning Michael.  He is my cousin.  We were both diagnosed with cancer (at similar times), we were both told we were terminal.  We were not close in age (he was 10 years younger then me), we lived in different provinces, but through the few e-mails that we shared, we understood each other.  Michael was (and continues to be)  an inspiration to me and thousands of others - he made his journey on earth count.  He went to Heaven this week.  He was dearly treasured and will be dearly missed.  And yet we know that now he is in a place "that is better by far".  My prayers are with his family, who will feel a huge emptiness and loss for a long time.  I pray that the hole that is left in their life will be filled with peace.