It Was The Best of Times, It Was The Worst of Times

Yup, this quote from Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens does a pretty good job of summing up 2015 for me. (By the way, Tale of Two Cities is one book required in HS English that I did a full book report on using only the summary on the back and ready a few pages - received an A. Hmmm)

Anyway, 2015 held some wonderful moments (birth of Teddy, announcement of expectation of two more grandbabies and two wonderful times of family gatherings; Seaside Oregon this past June and Grand Junction, CO for Thanksgiving not to mention all the special visits throughout the year of kids, other family members and friends.)

But 2015 also threw some terrific challenges my way, often making me feel like I had been thrown under the bus. Failing several treatment options and watching the cancer spread was frustrating. Dealing with new medications, frustrating doctors and nurses and trying to gain back some normality in my life was quite challenging.

God has been good in the midst of all the frustrations and challenges. Positives tend to balance out if not outweigh the negatives. I have been feeling stronger, putting in more hours at work, visiting with friends for tea, getting back into Bible study and attending church more regularly. I tend to walk further each day, even in freezing cold weather. I am taking on more challenges with my job and enjoying the ability to travel again. I even do cooking and cleaning which I really never thought I would miss but I did! Life is looking good.

I read a terrific book awhile back that has helped me focus on today and quality of life versus quantity of life. I highly recommend each and everyone to read "Being Mortal" by Atul Gawande. It has really enhanced my perspective on living a full and meaningful life. You can get a full description of the book on Amazon. There is also a PBS presentation on Being Mortal, an interview with Dr. Gawande. Check it out!

I don't know what tomorrow will hold - I won't know if this new medication is holding the cancer at bay until my next scan the end of January. I do know today is better than yesterday and one day at a time is all that is required. So even though I don't know what tomorrow will hold, more importantly I know WHO holds tomorrow. I think 2016 will be a winner!

Count Your Blessings...

...name them one by one.

My husband Tim
My daughter Tori, son-in-law Christian
My son Skylar and daughter-in-law Jamie
My daughter Calista and son-in-law Brian
Grandbabies Ellie, Darius, Abigail, Teddy
My dad and step-mom
My sister and her family

The blessing of an upbringing to understand what it is to be thankful and whom to contribute those blessings to.

A medical community and medications small and large that have kept me alive to be able to celebrate my blessings another year

A church family that lends encouragement, prayers and sustenance for body as well as soul when needed.

Friends from coast to coast that rally round and cheer me on as well as cheer me up.

This is just the tip of the iceberg as November was full of reasons to be thankful. My greatest blessing was having all my kids and their little families under one roof for several days. Such a joy to see your children as adults and still enjoying life as siblings. Not on,y was our home full but hearts were full and overflowing. I am thankful that I had a week off from chemo to enjoy the pleasures of being a wife, mom and Nana.

Today, on this final day of our month of Thanksgiving as I head into the first chemo treatment of round two of this new regiment I am most thankful for a loving God that sustains me during these often brutal treatments but more importantly extends grace and mercy in any and every circumstance so that I am able to continue too marvel at life on this earth.

I pray that your month of Thankfulness created in you a grateful hear, appreciation for life today and hope for tomorrow.

"The secret to living, whoever you are, is to hold on to hope and try to have faith with an open heart" (Reba)

Failed

"Failed" is not a word in a type A's vocabulary. At least it isn't a favorable word. As a kid the notion of failing anything made me quiver. Even as an adult my competitive edge makes failing at anything a deal breaker. So to be told that my current chemo drug has failed (equating in my mind that I have failed) is rather disheartening.

Wednesday I had my three month CT scan to check on the cancer status, see if taxol was doing its job, etc etc. Today I got an early morning call stating that my doctor wanted to see me at noon. Uh oh, this can't be good. This doc is impossible to get in to. Long story short, the news wasn't good. Now it wasn't all bad and we started with that first. The cancer in the mediastinum has gotten much better, involved lymph nodes have disappeared and the original tumor is still at a small, stable size. The bad news is that the disease is definitely progressing with bony mets. I have multiple new spots along my spine and other areas. The cancer has even caused a blood clot in my groin that is worrisome and will require daily shots to control.

Yup, daily shots that I will have to learn to give to myself. Joy upon joy.

No more taxol but we aren't finished with chemo yet. There is a huge list of drugs available to continue to try. This regimen will be a new chemo once every three weeks and an intravenous bone strengthener once a month in addition to those daily shots. In the meantime my doc will collaborate with Huntsman Cancer Institute in SLC for treatment agreement and to check on possibilities of trials I might qualify for.

Doc has ordered an X-ray of my right leg to check out some pain I have been having as well as an
MRI of my spine to make certain the cancer isn't encroaching on my spinal chord. If so, radiation will be in order.

My state of mind today was less than superior. Pretty bummed actually. I had put all my hopes in getting through the taxol cycle and then having months of freedom from treatment, living a semi normal life, but those hopes have been dashed. The fight continues.

I am reminded that last month I wrote about attitude and such being a choice. So, I can choose to remain bummed, defeated and operate as a failure or I can give myself a day of "mourning" and then come back swinging. I choose the later.

A friend gave me a beautiful necklace that simply states "Love the life you live". A beautiful sentiment. Maybe more accurate would be, "Love the life you've been given", much like "Bloom where you are planted". For whatever reason, this is the life that God wants me to live and I will live it with full abandon (allowing myself a down day every now and again) and I will not be marked "failed". There is too much "loving of this living" yet to be done.

Teaser or Tester?

Have you ever been in a situation where things are marching along pretty smoothly when all of a sudden you can really no longer enjoy the march  forward and suddenly you are waiting for the other shoe to drop?  Or suddenly it dawns on you that the either you are in the middle of a teaser or a tester.  Really rather impossible to enjoy the moment for what it simply is as you begin to over analyze.

I found myself here most recently at the end of five plus fantastic days - five days proceeding one right after the other mind you with absolutely no questionable breaks in  between. This phenomenon started a week after I had been knocked down (bowled over and stomped on) by the flu. The FLU of all things. Does it not know there are enough chemicals in my body to do away with the most unsuspecting virus or bacteria?  Apparently not and it had it's way
with me. Ugh.

Anyway, recuperating from the flu (and knocking my chemo schedule for a loop giving me an off week one day before I was due - shortening cycle 2 to simply 2 sets of chemo) found me with boundless energy that morphed into five beautiful days of basic symptom free living. I was flying high!  Seriously, and soon discovered exactly why. Since the flu had dehydrated me so badly I needed to go in for hydration - two days in a row. With hydration one is is given steroids. Know nothing about steroids?  I didn't until I was reading one evening shortly there after and oh my gosh! I was on a steroid high  (about 2am) and would soon experience a steroid crash. Why had I not been warned? Yup, Wednesday presented itself with a bang and I definitely experienced the crash for about two more days. Basically one feels like you have been hit by a school bus with all the children jumping on you as they exit! Toward Saturday evening I started to perk up and even contemplated attending church - gasp!

Sunday dawns bright and early and I gingerly make my way out of bed. No pain, no nausea - wow. So we had a leisurely morning then headed out to the 11:00 am service. Tried to sneak into the back but hard to sneak when the pastor reads a prayer request stating how good it is to see me in church (love my supportive church family - they rock!  Brought a few tears to my eyes). After worship collected multiple hugs and hand shakes while I tried to turn my head away from possible germs. Headed out with a handful of handsanitizer. I really do need a large button that says "I love you- thanks for the fist bump instead of the hug".  But seriously without these people's love and prayers I would not be here today.

Anyway, after church I am up for brunch so we head off to our favorite brunch spot complete with outdoor seating - clean breathing air for the most part. What a glorious start to five days of normal living!  Not just intermittent, sporadic moments in between bouts of nausea or back pain but real, honest to goodness five gifted days.

Sure Monday follows Sunday and Monday means chemo but I was incredibly chipper. Cracking jokes with the gal accessing my port - cheering my port on to produce blood while I go through    gynmanstics to find that sweet spot the port likes and then becomes willing to produce some blood - joking with the chemo nurses who gown and double glove up to administer the poison they are dumping in my body. (Think about that!). Loaded with poison I decided to give book club a try which I have not participated in for at least four if not five months. A friend graciously drove me. Baby steps!

Then Tuesday dawns bright and early thanks to steroids I zip around the house, making plans for the day which will include some crocheting, reading, coloring (yup I have know taken up adult coloring - great stress relief!) then head out to work driving by myself. First time I have stepped back into work since the beginning of May. Didn't stay long but got a lot accomplished and from there visited with a friend going through the same journey. There is comfort in numbers!  That night I even dropped in on GriefShare - a group I started three yrs ago and had to pull back from last April but very near and dear to my heart and look forward to the day of returning full time. Needless to say I slept well Tuesday night.

Wednesday I hit the grocery store, SAM's club, and Walgreens fir some much needed shopping and leisurely trips up and down aisle. While in SAM's I began to feel my energy fade so grabbed a snack and headed home. Time to take it easy so I decided to organize the grandkids Advent gifts and readied them for wrapping. Then I colored.

Thursday I could feel a small shift in symptoms but not too much so I worked around the house for a bit doing things I haven't done in ages and then had a meeting with my pastor where it was determined because of the hot bed a church can be for germs, and I am not quite ready to retire, I have been granted the privilege of working at home as much as possible.  What a blessing though I miss people interaction. I have had small meetings at home. The rest of the afternoon was spent getting a manicure, makeup guide and massaging shampoo for my thinning hair. Heaven!  The massage NOT the thinning hair!!  That night I took Tim to dinner using a gift certificate we were blessed  with. Maybe a little over the top day.

Friday I had the privilege of meeting a dear friend for lunch - though appetite was beginning to
wane and I feared my streak was over. Went to the post office and then home for more coloring.

Laid low Sat, attended a marching band parade, leisurely working in the yard, until I spied my bike and begged for the tires to be pumped up. And then I did the ultimate. I RODE MY BIKE! Only a little over a mile and I paid later but oh the pure joy!  Later we were seen going for our nightly walk around the neighborhood  then I began to pay for my fun. Had to go to bed with heat, pain pills and Tylenol with max leg and back pain but finally slept.

Woke up Sunday ready to do church since I was feeling better. Little queasy but  it was after all Color Sunday on the Grande Mesa and we couldn't miss a drive in the mini for good measure!
So, teaser or tester. Am I being teased with bettering health or being tested to know my limits and when to say enough?  No scans are ordered yet to determine the condition of the cancer but as I like to remind mysel, prayer and scripture is a mighty force. I have been privileged to be anointed for healing, had worship brought to me and over and over reminded on a daily basis that I am loved.

The giant baskets of get well cards and thinking of you cards attests to being loved.  Yet God's Word also reminds me daily that I am loved. So teasing or testing?  I don't know but I pray I can come through both with flying colors!

And just what keeps me motivated to move on and through?  Certainly the well wishes and God's assurance but this quote from Donna Mendenhall's' "Living Not Dying With Incurable Cancer - Making Each Day Count"

 "We can get through the trying times because we have days/weekends that are times of celebration      and memory making, when the whole family comes together interspersed throughout."

    And

  "This may shock you but I believe the single most significant decision I can make on a day-to-day basis is my choice of attitude.   It is more important than my past, my education, my bankroll, my successes or failures, fame or pain, what other people think of me, or say about me, my circumstances, or my position.  The attitude I choose keeps me going or cripples my progress. When my attitudes are right, there's no barrier too high, no valley too deep".

And I might add no teaser or test too great.

Best Kind of Medicine

I have officially finished with one cycle (three weeks on, one week off) of chemo. One down and five to go. Or five more months. Seems daunting, especially knowing that as the chemo builds in my body so will the side effects. But, I also know this is a necessary evil and need to simply continue to take one week, if not one day, at a time.

This past week has been my "off" week meaning no chemo. Hurrah!  And it has been a great week. I've gotten some energy back, walked around the block, ventured out to the grocery store (with a chauffeur) twice and even a quick trip to Home Depot. It is amazing how good it felt to actually walk the aisles of the grocery store!  An activity I typically did with disdain, simply because it was a necessity, has turned into a joyful outing.  Oh the perspective that illness brings to life!  Even taking a shower all by myself was a cause for celebration. I am aware that as I begin my next chemo cycle I will be most likely be back to staying home and requiring assistance in daily tasks but having tasted an off week hopefully the three weeks on will be a bit more bearable.

And you know what really makes an illness bearable?  The presence of children and grandchildren. I have been blessed the last couple of weeks by visits from my Colorado son and his family and my Bostonian daughter and granddaughter.  Modern technology keeps me in touch with my youngest daughter and her family in Utah until they are able to visit in person. There is just something magical about family that lifts my spirits and seems so much more powerful than any drug out there. I feel as if anything is bearable and doable when I focus on family. Ellie, Darius, Abigail and Teddy are often what keeps me pushing through and forging ahead.

In addition to family I have been blessed by friends who have carved out time from their schedules to make the trip to help out as well, not to mention local friends who have made themselves available to spend time with me, bring by meals, run to the store, bring fresh veggies, check in via text, emails and cards just to let me know they care. I even was super privileged to have the worship leaders from my church come by one afternoon to lead a time of private worship. It was beautiful and inspiring. It is really impossible to adequately express thanks for these acts of kindness and love that keep me moving one day in to the next, especially during the dark times when it feels like the light will never shine again.

When I lose my focus or find myself giving in to despair or self pity I simply remember that God has provided me with not only a medical community but more importantly a community of family and friends - truly the best kind of medicine available. I am indeed blessed.

The Slippery Rope

Sometimes events in life make it just plain impossible to continue holding on.  And that people, is why God drew us in to relationship. Relationship not only with Him - the most profound relationship of eternity - but earthbound relationships as well. Human beings were designed for fellowship. That has been proven over and over to me in this bumpy cancer journey.

Just as my hands start to slide down the rope a team of friends will become my hands and hold on for me.  Just as I begin to waver in my faith the mailman will deliver a cadre of cards wishing me well and conveying the fact that I am being prayed for on a daily basis. Or a friend or family member will send me a text or email. More often than not a simple picture of a twinkly eyed grandchild will appear on my phone screen and make the day more bearable.

Recently I have begun leaving my front door unlocked so caring friends can come and go without disturbing me if necessary or to come in and chat if they see I am not resting. Other friends appear in my yard to keep my flowerbeds enjoyable for me or fill the bird feeders. Some stop by the grocery or bring me tea or smoothies. Simple things that I used to be able to do but now find taxing. Even my associate pastor on a pastoral call left my home carting away my e-cycling that I have been wanting out of my hair but lacked the energy to take care of. Little things that drive my OCD mind crazy are understood by and taken care of by friends.

Just when I start to feel sorry for poor little me and isolated in my home God sends His messenger(s) in bodily form to remind me I am never isolated. I am loved and cherished even in the dark times. He even reminds me of that fact when my tender loving cat will gently climb aboard my diseased chest and rest, purring away in contentment. I like to think the "paws of Jesus" are then being lain on me for healing.

In past posts I have tried to remain upbeat and hopeful, playing down this disease but the truth is sometimes transparency is in order, as a dear friend lovingly reminded me. I refuse to say that cancer is winning, evil never triumps in God's world, but the disease is advancing. So we switch courses and choose another tactic. The oral anti-hormonals plan stopped working, allowing the cancer to spread throughout the mediastinum area of my chest (between my lungs, wrapping around my esophagus, etc), into my spine, rib and pelvis. The good news continues to be that the soft tissues (liver, pancreas, spleen) and brain remain clear. Praise God! Yet advancing cancer means an incapacitating lifestyle. One I do not welcome. I miss driving, biking, walks, even showering without fear of increased pain.

After consulting with Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City, it has been determined, and I have agreed, that I will start chemo treatments on Monday, August third.  Yup, I always said I would never do chemo again - lesson learned - never say never!  I will be doing once a week taxol treatments for three weeks, take a week off and repeat for a total of six cycles (six months). The goal to begin with is symptom management, trying to get my chest pain, shortness of breath, vomiting, headaches, etc under control. Along with symptom management we will pray for tumor shrinkage if not complete disease obliteration. Specific prayers then in addition to symptom management is for little to no resulting side effects from the chemo as it does it's work on the cancer cells.

A friend prayed with me today asking that I be allowed to "rest in the holy hammock of Jesus". I love that imagery. When life is causing motion sickness swing restfully in His presence. I like to envision that my "holy hammock" is at least a double as a trusted friend curls up with me or my grand babies snuggle in love. I can also see those steadfast friends firmly holding the hammock ends while I sway in His Holy arms.

Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of relationships. May I NEVER take that privelege lightly or for granted. And along the way may I be given opportunities to be a holy hammock bearer for another.

The Carousel

One of the most enjoyable things in life, for me, is being able to share childhood memories with my children and now my grandchildren. The entire Brower family (minus one son-in-law) was able to gather in Seaside, OR (a favorite vacation spot for my family of origin) this month. It was so encouraging to see all three of my kids gathered together with their offspring. I like to think of this as my legacy of seven; three children and four grandchildren.

We enjoyed numerous trips to the beach, playing in the sand and jumping the waves; walks in to town along the board walk; savoring Tillamook ice cream; watching the cousins get better acquainted; taking a nine seater bike for a spin around the town; visiting neighboring coastal towns and simply enjoying one another's company.

My most enjoyable memory is introducing the grandkids to Seaside's carousel. That carousel is older than I am!! Watching the smiles on their faces as the ponies went up and down and around and around was precious. Even 3 month old Teddy got the thrill of riding the grand carousel. Little Abigail's reaction is so typical of life in general and has given me several opportunities to stop and think about the parallels of her reaction. At first she was hesitant (very much so) to go for a spin, even with mama at her side. Then she wanted to go again so Nana obliged and took her for another twirl only to have to peal her hands from the golden pole amidst tears and cries of "more, more" when the ride came to a stop. Aren''t we all like that to some degree?  Hesitant at first to dabble in that which life brings our way and then when life hands us another turn we are stubborn and refuse to loosen our grip. Shouting "no, no, no!" with tears streaming down our face as we are nudged to loosen our grip.

As I think about the past few months with my cancer challenges I shout right along with Abigail. I want to continue my easy going life with the natural patterns of round and round and round again. I don't want to face the twists and turns. I don't want to loosen my grip on the familiar. I want to enjoy my life as I always have; active and full. Yet, just like Abigail, we can't hang on to the golden pole forever. At some point we have to let go, trusting that someone greater than us, with more authority than us, has a better plan in place.

Jeremiah 29:11

My fingers are being peeled off and all I can do is trust. Trust in the potential goodness of days ahead.

Faith Trumps Fear

As I mentioned last month I had the privilege of speaking at a Women's Retreat in Oregon the beginning of this month. I spoke regarding "Faith Trumping Fear" in the ordinariness of life as well as in the trials and tribulations we face in this world. Preparing for the sessions was a great opportunity for me to try to lay aside my own fears, allowing faith to shine through. Before one can actually lay down fears you have to name those fears. I knew that I couldn't just challenging the women to name their fears; I needed to start by giving voice to my own fears. 

Many might think that my biggest fear since receiving my metastasis diagnosis might be the fear of dying. Actually, death does not grip me in fear. The process of dying might be close in the running but not so much. I quickly realized that my greatest fears are missing out on life (seeing my kids grab hold of life as adults, watching my grandchildren grow up and growing old with my husband while exploring what this world has to offer), not being needed (kids growing up!) and fear of not being known. (That last one requires a bit of an explanation that we can share sometime one on one if you'd like - I admit it isn't a pretty fear. Seems rather self centered - then most fears might be just that). 

My first two fears are at opposite ends of the spectrum,  if I do indeed want to see my children grow into independent adults then fear #2 is realized - not being needed. Yet motherhood is only one way in which a person can be needed. And quite honestly, since my own mother died 28 years ago I realize that while one can go on living without a mother there are certain things that are terribly missed when you are motherless, even as an adult. 

Once we name our fears - give voice to them - it is easier then to allow faith to trump those fears. And grabbing on to faith requires more than a one time "I believe" sort of faith. Faith that trumps fear must be visited every day, often every hour, calling upon the strength of God to allow you to move forward through the fears of your days. 

A most recent and newer fear is simply that of negative news. It seems that each time I have a test I receive more devastating news which makes faith a little tough to cling to.  This past month brought times of discouragement as a PET scan revealed advancing disease meaning the medication I was currently on had "failed" - was no longer worker. It was also discovered that I had excess fluid in the pericardium of my heart that was compromising my heart function requiring surgery. Two weeks ago I underwent a pericardium window surgery where a hole (window) was cut in the pericardium allowing that fluid to drain out. Tough operation - hard for me recovery (I am a very impatient person and can't stand being inactive but fluid around the heart also makes it tough to be active). Did it work?  Don't know. Won't know till Monday after a follow up X-ray and doc visit. Does it feel like it worked?  I haven't seen a difference. :(.  As for the advancing disease I am on a different aromatase inhibitor and will soon beging taking monthly shots for my bones while having monthly bloodwork done to check on the status of my levels. Fear of needles?  Might be a new fear!

A year ago I was told my metastasis was manageable.  Doesn't feel so manageable to me anymore but I guess we need to discuss the definition of manageable. The thing is faith is even bigger than the fear of being unmanageable. Thankfully God has placed many people in my life who are willing to have faith for me, remind me of that faith and be my "arm lifters" (Aaron and Hur held Moses arms up in battle - Exodus 17) thus allowing my fears to get an overwhelming trumping by faith. 

Cancer is big yet God is bigger. Faith Trumps Fear each and every time. Take THAT fear!!

Glorious Unfolding

Steven Curtis Chapman has a song entitled "Glorious Unfolding" that speaks about life typically not moving (unfolding) in the direction that you always thought it would.  The lyrics remind us that God's plan for us supercedes our greatest dreams.

The song begins;
Lay your head down tonight
Take a rest from the fight
Don't try to figure it out
Just listen to what I'm whispering to your heart
'Cause I know this is not
Anything like you thought
The story of your life was gonna be
And it feels like the end has started closing in on you
But it's just not true
There's so much of the story that's still yet to unfold

And this is going to be a glorious unfolding
Just you wait and see and you will be amazed
You've just got to believe the story is so far from over
So hold on to every promise God has made to us
And watch this glorious unfolding.

A year ago I was stunned to find myself back in the middle of the story of fighting cancer, having thought that story was long finished. A year later that story is still being written. On one hand it feels like a really long year. On the other hand the year has flown by with multiple doctor visits, medications, mysterious side effects, tests, tests and more tests. Some chapters of this story have been dark but God has been good and faithful to bring light to other chapters. Like being able to take care of my grandbabies, continuing to travel to visit friends and do what I love and feel called to do (I write this from Oregon where I am staying with my good friend Thelma and preparing to speak at a retreat this weekend). Each chapter of this story has been unique and the story is far from over.

Medically there have been a few set backs and new developments but I try to rest in the knowledge that God has this, too, covered. Currently I am transferring my oncology care back to Grand Junction. Not because I don't care for my current doctor in Fort Collins (she has been awesome!) but simply because the 5 plus hour drive is getting wearisome and the ability to see my doctor when I need to and coordinate with other medical personnel has become important. Plus, I'd prefer to make that drive purely to see my Ellie and Darius and their parents than the anticipation of medical care!

This weekend I am speaking to the theme, "Faith Trumps Fear", certainly not because I have this down perfectly, rather because I know what it is like to struggle with fear and waver on faith. Sometimes I feel my fear has trumped faith but then I hear a song like "Glorious Unfolding" and am reminded to simply "watch and see and we will be amazed".

We will watch and see and we will be amazed
If we just keep on believing the story is so far from over
And hold on to every promise God has made to us
We'll see the glorious unfolding

Blessings of New Life

March was a month of extreme blessings with the birth of our fourth grandchild and second grandson - Theodore Winston Budrow - my little Teddy Bear.  It was so much fun to get to hang out with his mama for 1 1/2 weeks while we waited for him to make his appearance.  Waiting is neither one of his mama's nor his nana's best traits but even prior to his first out of the womb breath (which I had the privilege of hearing - that soft first baby cry - incredible!)  he was teaching us lessons in patience.  Teddy was well worth the wait!

Patience - doesn't come easily to me.  I want what I want now.  Especially in this fight against cancer.  I want to be free of it NOW! (Okay -  maybe I'm delusional since typically stage 4 does not allow for that but I do believe in miracles and such was prayed for and over me about two weeks ago when I was anointed with oil - God is able.)  Yes, God is able but He also is the author and perfector of patience. So, as I develop patience in this battle I am trying to learn to be thankful for what I DO have and ignore or minimize what I DO NOT have.

Margaret Feinberg (author and Breast Cancer fighter/survivor) in her book, Fight Back With Joy, states, "Instead of focusing on what's been taken, find reason to offer thanks for what remains."  Simple yet profound.  Simple yet not real easy.  Simple yet entirely doable.  Rather the force behind my response of "Good days and Bad days" when asked how I am doing.  But to truly focus on what remains I need to drop the "Bad days" accounting.  So I try to highlight the good days.  "Had a terrific three day, three night run of feeling great!".  "I enjoyed a 10 mile bike ride".  "I had the energy to clean out all my flower pots and ready them for spring planting!"  "I got to snuggle my Teddy Bear and watch him sleep".  Focus on the good, the positive, that which remains. 

While driving in to work today one of my favorite artists was on the radio - Danny Gokey singing
Hope In Front Of Me.  I love this song - filled with lots of good and precious reminders.  My favorite line is "I might be down but I'm not dead".  Truly, focus on that which remains. 

Here are the lyrics in their entirety.

Lyrics for Hope in Front of Me

By Danny Gokey

I've been running through rain
That I thought would never end
Trying to make it on faith
In a struggle against the wind
I've seen the dark and the broken places
But I know in my soul
No matter how bad it gets
I'll be alright

There's hope in front of me
There's a light, I still see it
There's a hand still holding me
Even when I don't believe it
I might be down but I'm not dead
There's better days still up ahead
Even after all I've seen
There's hope in front of me

There's a place at the end of the storm
You finally find
Where the hurt and the tears and the pain
All fall behind

You open up your eyes and up ahead
There's a big sun shining
Right then and there you realize
You'll be alright

There's hope in front of me
There's a light, I still see it
There's a hand still holding me
Even when I don't believe it
I might be down but I'm not dead
There's better days still up ahead
Even after all I've seen
There's hope in front of me

There's a hope still burning
I can feel it rising through the night
And my world's still turning
I can feel your love here by my side

You're my hope
You're the light, I still see it
Your hands are holding me
Even when I don't believe it
I've got to believe
I still have hope
You are my hope

 

Yup, focus on that which remains. 

Life is after all purely a matter of perspective. 

PS - April will bring an update on the medical issues.  I am seeing a new oncologist tomorrow to get his perspective on my health as well as the newly released chemo drug that my current oncologist has suggested I try, seeing my that oncologist mid April followed by an appointment with the first oncologist I saw last year when my journey started. 

Decisions, decisions, decisions

I hate making decisions! (I just heard my mother say, "It isn't nice to say hate".  Sorry Mom). But it is the truth - especially when the outcome isn't cut and dry.

Two weeks ago I had my three month scan. No change.  Tumor continues to hold steady at 1.2 centimeters.  Not the best news but by far certainly not the worst. I was just hoping for the best possible scenario - gone.  I keep telling myself at least it hasn't grown. Gotta keep looking for the positive.

I was told that the activity in my chest has left some scar tissue that isn't reversible. That may be causing the cough and other things (not to mention a tumor in my lung though small). Doc wants me to try a medication that may help the coughing (or may not). Also she was very excited about a new drug recently released from a trial and FDA approved that she wants to put me on for the cancer - adding to my current medication.  Sounds like wonder drugs yet most drugs come with not so pleasant side effects - the one for coughing is an old drug (with some unpleasant se) and this new drug is actually a chemo drug so....requires weekly blood tests. The new drug is hard to get - my insurance requires traveling to Denver once a month to pick it up, could have a co-pay $0-5,000, and who knows how long I have to be on it. My take is with weekly blood tests and once a month traveling to Denver it just does not fit in to my life style.  Paying for a drug that could make me sick also does not fit into my life style. I have a ton of questions that need answered first. Did I mention I hate making decisions?

Until a decision is made (till I get my questions answered) I will play the role of ostrich - living daily with my head in the sand pretending that all is well. I believe that is called denial. I've heard it is a remarkable place to dwell. I will let you know!

Till then I'm enjoying continued travel, taking care of my grandbabies, waiting for grandbaby #4 and seeing what each new day holds. Just don't ask me to make any major decisions!

It Actually Felt Normal

No one really quite understands normal until they move out of the realm of normal. In my work with those who are grieving we are always talking about a "new normal". Easy to pontificate upon when you aren't the one going through the experience. Undoubtably that has been the biggest lesson learned as well as the most challenging learning curve for me these past 9 months. Yet really, what is normal?

Last week I had the distinct pleasure of experiencing "normal" for two hours!  I met a friend for tea one afternoon to simply catch up. We had a great time of connecting; sharing our holiday experiences, talking about family, pets and just about everything under the sun. A fabulous two hours. As I was driving home it dawned on me that not once, no not once!, was my health mentioned. What an exhilarating feeling. Did this mean my friend wasn't concerned? Not at all. Many times in the past nine months she has reached out, asked after me and let me know she was praying for me. What a precious gift she gave me - two hours of simply being me. I didn't have to try to explain how some days are good while others are bad. I didn't have to explain that sometimes the outside covers up what is going on inside.  Or the light of day looks different than the dark of night. I simply got to laugh and talk and laugh some more. And you know what?  My voice was strong for two solid hours!  I don't even remember coughing. I was "normal"!

Don't get me wrong. I do appreciate those who ask after my health. I continue with my standard answer of good days and bad simply because it is really hard to explain how I am outside of sharing scan and other test results but honestly I feel like the good days are beginning to outshine the bad.

In the past month I have had several more tests and doctor appts to try to figure out the night time emesis (fancy for vomit). The results?  Everything is normal! (Yup-that word again) - no tummy ulcers, tumors, hernias, no allergies or asthma. My esophagus is great, my nasal passages are wonderful. All is great yet something is still off and it may not even have to to with the cancer. I'm normal yet I'm not. (Bet I could say that about you, too!) So, the investigation continues.

My next scan and blood work is scheduled for Feb 13. In the meantime I'm going to try to embrace my new normal (once I discover what that really is) and live life to the fullest. As a matter of fact I'm heading to blizzard country tomorrow to help celebrate Abigail's first birthday.  Life can't get more normal than that!