Never in my life would I ever think that age 20 I would be reading blogs, watching videos, and talking to others about how women deal with infertility.
Just a couple weeks ago my doctors informed me that it would be a miracle if I ever had children of my own due to the mass amount of treatments that were targeted to that area of my body.
It has definitely taken me a lot of processing and conversations to allow me to fully grasp the idea that I will have to tell my future husband that kids of our own may not be a possibility.
I write this with tears in my eyes because having children is something that I have always dreamed about, and the idea of it maybe never happening is heartbreaking.
There are so many people around me that are trying to get pregnant, and it breaks my heart because there is a huge possibility that will be me someday.
Then there are so many people around me having children, whom I am unbelievably happy and excited for, but holding those babies puts a bigger want in my heart. But the one thing that blesses me about these babies is that many of them have come after years of trying. That just proves to me that God really does do thing in his own timing.
I think God has given me a heart that loves deeply and truly. Whether or not I am able to have my own children someday will not hinder my ability to become a mom.
If there is something I have learned about my own story, it's that there can be so much redemption in someone's life when they become surrounded by positive people.
I have tried to say that this news has been a lot easier since having children is not something that is in my near future, but having it be something that is constantly coming up in conversation puts it on my mind. This all just makes me think of a friend who was told that she would not be able to have her children after chemo, radiation, and a stem cell transplant... And she is now on her third. She has helped me remember that doctor's 0% could easily be God's 100%.
I don't know what the journey to motherhood will look like for me, but I am putting my trust in a God who knows my heart.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Wisdom in the Simple Pleasures
It's been a month since I found out that I was in remission. Boy, does the time fly! AND I am almost done with this semester of hell. Praise God.
It wasn't before I heard the word 'cancer' for the first time that I really knew what fear was. At that very moment, I knew my life would never be the same. I learned to read every pain, every scan, every checkup for signs my cancer had spread.
And these fears didn't end with treatment. They have persisted because the danger still does. After I finished chemo, friends and family look at me with all of my hair still and very healthy looking and assumed I was all better. I have had to remind them through gritted teeth that my oncologist wouldn't call me cured for 5 years.
The second hardest phase—after my initial diagnosis—was the minute treatment ended. The reality set in and I have to live with this the rest of my life and the safety net is gone.
Cancer has stolen my youthful confidence that "everything is going to be alright."
People think chemo is the worst part of getting cancer, and yes, losing hair, nausea, and menopausal symptoms are awful. But those physical traits pale in comparison to the mental challenge of managing fear. I would analyze every word my doctor said and obsess over what it meant when he called my cancer aggressive. I have laid awake at night wondering if the pain in my stomach was from the food I ate or if there was a tumor.
But as a cancer patient and survivor, I learned to cope with the fear by being vigilant. I go into appointments with lists of things that I think could be abnormal, but the constant vigilance is exhausting. It is draining, but it has made me tough. Over the months—and the scares and biopsies and bad scan results—I learned something else besides fear. I learned that coping with fear is a muscle, and mine has gotten stronger. I have worked it. I have exercised it. I have come to believe it. I can face another biopsy because I have done it before.
Don't get me wrong. I still get nervous waiting for test results and I still monitor my aches and pains. But I take comfort in the passage of time—every month that goes by without incident lowers the chance of recurrence—and I know I can muscle through the fear and continue to live my life.
I live my life being thankful because having cancer has shown me how precious life is and that it can be stolen away at any moment. I have earned my gratitude, and I need to enjoy it.
After having lost chunks of hair and vomiting and fearing death for months, I have become remarkably easy to please. But I have found that there is wisdom in savoring simple pleasures.
It wasn't before I heard the word 'cancer' for the first time that I really knew what fear was. At that very moment, I knew my life would never be the same. I learned to read every pain, every scan, every checkup for signs my cancer had spread.
And these fears didn't end with treatment. They have persisted because the danger still does. After I finished chemo, friends and family look at me with all of my hair still and very healthy looking and assumed I was all better. I have had to remind them through gritted teeth that my oncologist wouldn't call me cured for 5 years.
The second hardest phase—after my initial diagnosis—was the minute treatment ended. The reality set in and I have to live with this the rest of my life and the safety net is gone.
Cancer has stolen my youthful confidence that "everything is going to be alright."
People think chemo is the worst part of getting cancer, and yes, losing hair, nausea, and menopausal symptoms are awful. But those physical traits pale in comparison to the mental challenge of managing fear. I would analyze every word my doctor said and obsess over what it meant when he called my cancer aggressive. I have laid awake at night wondering if the pain in my stomach was from the food I ate or if there was a tumor.
But as a cancer patient and survivor, I learned to cope with the fear by being vigilant. I go into appointments with lists of things that I think could be abnormal, but the constant vigilance is exhausting. It is draining, but it has made me tough. Over the months—and the scares and biopsies and bad scan results—I learned something else besides fear. I learned that coping with fear is a muscle, and mine has gotten stronger. I have worked it. I have exercised it. I have come to believe it. I can face another biopsy because I have done it before.
Don't get me wrong. I still get nervous waiting for test results and I still monitor my aches and pains. But I take comfort in the passage of time—every month that goes by without incident lowers the chance of recurrence—and I know I can muscle through the fear and continue to live my life.
I live my life being thankful because having cancer has shown me how precious life is and that it can be stolen away at any moment. I have earned my gratitude, and I need to enjoy it.
After having lost chunks of hair and vomiting and fearing death for months, I have become remarkably easy to please. But I have found that there is wisdom in savoring simple pleasures.
I was walking across campus the other day, and the crisp morning breeze started blowing, and it blew my shirt against my skin in a way that made me stop and think, "This is what is means to be alive."
I've often had those realizations since my diagnosis. Sometimes when I am sitting in class watching the leaves fall outside or laying on a friends couch snuggling with a puppy, I am struck by how lucky I am to be living through such moments.
I have seen the alternative.
I know I could just as easily be in a chemo chair, fighting off an infection in a hospital bed, or facing death.
But instead I get to feel the sun and rain on my skin and hear my friend's laughter every day.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Focus on the Light
I have spent the night wrestling with children, having tickle fights, eating baked mac n cheese and dino nuggets, watching Pocahontas, reading bedtime books, and tucking them into bed.
I don't think that I can remember the last time I had the energy to do that.
I try not to think about how much I probably missed out on in the last 8 months of my life because this battle has not only changed me, but also people around me. If I could turn back in time and be faced with this situation again, I would gladly experience it ten times over, just to see what a wonderful effect it has had on me and the people around me.
Challenges like this define a person, not by what we experience, but by how we respond to that experience.
When we are faced with something that seems so much bigger than imaginable, we figure out who we really are on the inside but what we do with the experience.
I think about what was going on before I got cancer. I had just built many new friendships that were helping me realize that despite my broken past, I was whole and that my story is beautiful. I was preparing for my trip to Romania. I had been accepted into the social work program, and everything seemed right on track. I was blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
Although my life drastically changed, I am thankful to say that I had such an amazing support system that there was no way I was going to let this beat me down.
I truly believe that there is nothing that can happen to a person that can overwhelm or devastate them, unless they allow it. The secret to conquering any darkness is to always stay completely focused on the light.
People keep telling me to "fight the fight," but if you were in a dark room, it does no good to punch your way through in an attempt to "fight the dark" The only way to make the darkness go away is to, quite simply, calmly locate the light switch and flip it to the on position.
Darkness can only be replaced, it cannot be fought.
And this directly applies as to how I dealt with my own war... I don't believe that I was fighting cancer. I was replacing the abnormal cells with a healthy set.
My daily thoughts were filled with dreams of a healthy, cancer-free body. I spent all my waking moments imagining that all my cells were healthy, vibrant, alive, active, and doing the job they are supposed to do... what they were intended to do.
Today is one of the first days where I feel like that is happening.
We spent 8 months actively working on removing the cells that went haywire, through chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Then I went through the process of replacing those cells with blood transfusions and many shots.
This is the "replacing the negative with the positive" thought process that helped me heal every day.
It is a dramatic shift in perception.
I don't have horrible looking scars. I have wounds that remind me that I am courageous.
I didn't lose my hair. I chose to cut it off and give it away to someone who needs it more than me.
I didn't experience "extreme fatigue". I took much needed naps and spoiled myself with more rest than I deserved.
I am not surviving non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. I am a woman who is living each day the way it is supposed to be lived... full of life, love, joy, and laughter.
This is not the "year I battled cancer". This is the year I welcomed a fresh new healthy body.
I was not diagnosed with a terminal illness. I have been blessed with a reminder that it is important to live each day to its fullest and thank God that He made me whole again.
We can't all live life in anticipation of death. The fact is, we are all suffering from a terminal illness. We are all dying...eventually.
And just because I was diagnosed with cancer doesn't mean I know how I am going to die. A random speeding bus could hit me tomorrow. So does it make sense to live my life worrying about random buses? Absolutely not.
Nor will I live out the rest of my life worrying about my cancer.
"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10.
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Psalm 23:4.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Thankfulness and Fear
This blog has honestly been so hard to write.
I found out a week ago, that I am in remission again and every day since then I have sat down and tried to put my thoughts into words but nothing comes out. There are just so many emotions ranging from complete thankfulness to fear.
I guess I can start out by saying Praise the Lord. I could not imagine having faced these last 8 months of my life without a Savior who provides me with strength and rest. Although there has been tremendous amounts of heartache, exhaustion, pain, and discouragement, it was equally balanced by many blessings, laughter, encouragement, and growth. The Lord has provided me with people who can make me laugh through it all, but also have the ability to let me cry on their shoulder if that is what I need too.
It is Thanksgiving day, and as we went around the table sharing what we were thankful for, tears rolled down everyones cheeks. After finding out I am in remission, and hearing good news from my aunt's appointment yesterday... we are thankful for the good news that is surrounding this holiday.
As I was driving down to Eugene for Thanksgiving break, the song Praise You in this Storm by Casting Crowns. I think with this song I have always known the lyrics, but never really just listened.
"For You are who You are, no matter where I am.
And every tear I've cried, You hold in Your hand."
This is something that I have strived to fully comprehend throughout my whole battle with cancer. I truly believe that every second of every day I was held by my Heavenly Father and He caught each and every tear in His hands. But for a long time I had a really hard time believing that He would continue to hold me when all I wanted to do was angrily pound on His chest.
Yesterday as I read Jesus Calling, I think it finally struck me and made me begin to think of others who may need such truth in their life.
"I am pleased with you, My child. Allow yourself to become fully aware of My pleasure shining upon you...The Light of My Love shines on you continually, regardless of your feelings or behavior... be receptive to this unconditional Love (through) thankfulness and trust... Thank Me for everything; trust Me at all times."
This may be one of the most impacting Truths in my own life. I need to be using thankfulness and trust as pivot points in my journey at all times. These things help me readjust my course and stay in the center of His Presence.
I must continue to intentionally run straight to Jesus, even amidst my constant fear of recurrence.
It is Thanksgiving day, and as we went around the table sharing what we were thankful for, tears rolled down everyones cheeks. After finding out I am in remission, and hearing good news from my aunt's appointment yesterday... we are thankful for the good news that is surrounding this holiday.
As I was driving down to Eugene for Thanksgiving break, the song Praise You in this Storm by Casting Crowns. I think with this song I have always known the lyrics, but never really just listened.
"For You are who You are, no matter where I am.
And every tear I've cried, You hold in Your hand."
This is something that I have strived to fully comprehend throughout my whole battle with cancer. I truly believe that every second of every day I was held by my Heavenly Father and He caught each and every tear in His hands. But for a long time I had a really hard time believing that He would continue to hold me when all I wanted to do was angrily pound on His chest.
Yesterday as I read Jesus Calling, I think it finally struck me and made me begin to think of others who may need such truth in their life.
"I am pleased with you, My child. Allow yourself to become fully aware of My pleasure shining upon you...The Light of My Love shines on you continually, regardless of your feelings or behavior... be receptive to this unconditional Love (through) thankfulness and trust... Thank Me for everything; trust Me at all times."
This may be one of the most impacting Truths in my own life. I need to be using thankfulness and trust as pivot points in my journey at all times. These things help me readjust my course and stay in the center of His Presence.
I must continue to intentionally run straight to Jesus, even amidst my constant fear of recurrence.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Always Rejoice
It's the night of November 11th, and I just took my last set of chemo pills. I don't want to downplay my excitement at all because I honestly could not be more thrilled that this part is over.
Goodbye nausea.
Goodbye fatigue
Goodbye mouth sores.
Although things like the fatigue and mouth sores will not instantly disappear, I am excited for the day that I physically feel healthy again. But that is where the uncertainty comes in for me.
When will that day come?
Days? Months? Years?
I have a day full of scans tomorrow followed by days of waiting for the results. I have a feeling that those several days of waiting are going to be exhausting because they always are.
There is always the potential that it could come back, and that is where my mind starts filling with the idea that there is always a chance that I may never be able to get rid of it; a chance that I may never be healthy again.
It's a good thing that I am entrusting my life to God. I don't think that He is done with me yet, so those thoughts of uncertainty quickly become past tense.
Goodbye nausea.
Goodbye fatigue
Goodbye mouth sores.
Although things like the fatigue and mouth sores will not instantly disappear, I am excited for the day that I physically feel healthy again. But that is where the uncertainty comes in for me.
When will that day come?
Days? Months? Years?
I have a day full of scans tomorrow followed by days of waiting for the results. I have a feeling that those several days of waiting are going to be exhausting because they always are.
There is always the potential that it could come back, and that is where my mind starts filling with the idea that there is always a chance that I may never be able to get rid of it; a chance that I may never be healthy again.
It's a good thing that I am entrusting my life to God. I don't think that He is done with me yet, so those thoughts of uncertainty quickly become past tense.
I truly believe with all of my heart that I will be healthy and cancer-free someday, but if only that could happen without all of the fear of reoccurrence and the wanting of constant check-ups "just in case."
Last time I went into remission the cancer came back after 5 months, so I have a feeling that I am going to have a hard time believing that I am cancer-free until I can make it way beyond that.
I go in tomorrow to get my scans that will determine whether or not my body is free of cancer, or if I have to start the process of finding a bone marrow donor.
Obviously we all know that being told that I am cancer-free would be way better news, but I am just glad that I know the plan of action for either way that way I can prepare myself.
Although getting a bone marrow transplant is a pretty big thing, I think I have prepared myself mentally for the procedure, especially since I have so many wonderful friends that are willing to see if they are a bone marrow match.
I will find my results out midweek some time and until then, I will continue to rejoice in the Lord, for He is with me no matter what happens.
"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near." *Philippians 4:4-5
Obviously we all know that being told that I am cancer-free would be way better news, but I am just glad that I know the plan of action for either way that way I can prepare myself.
Although getting a bone marrow transplant is a pretty big thing, I think I have prepared myself mentally for the procedure, especially since I have so many wonderful friends that are willing to see if they are a bone marrow match.
I will find my results out midweek some time and until then, I will continue to rejoice in the Lord, for He is with me no matter what happens.
"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near." *Philippians 4:4-5
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Unorganized Thoughts
I have been unable to put any organization in my thoughts lately. I was so excited to be heading into my final week of chemo, but instead I just got out of the hospital for catching the flu, and that feels like it has pushed me back 10 steps.
I have five days until I get my scans that will determine whether I am cancer-free or if I will be having to get a bone marrow transplant.
I am having a hard time balancing my excitement to finally be done with chemo and my anxious thoughts about what is to come.
I can't help but wonder what will happen if I have to get a bone marrow transplant. Will I have to take an incomplete in all my classes? Is that possible? Would I have to leave school completely? Or is there any way to wait until winter break and hope that 4 weeks is a long enough recovery time.
And what if the results come the other way...
What if I do find out that I am cancer-free? What does that even mean for me? Does it mean that I get to start worrying about the cancer recurring again? Or does it mean that I can start living my life again?
A lot of thoughts are rushing in and I am not sure how to process them all. So for now all I can do is take it one day at a time.
When you reach the end of your rope,
tie a knot in it and hang on.
*Thomas Jefferson
I have five days until I get my scans that will determine whether I am cancer-free or if I will be having to get a bone marrow transplant.
I am having a hard time balancing my excitement to finally be done with chemo and my anxious thoughts about what is to come.
I can't help but wonder what will happen if I have to get a bone marrow transplant. Will I have to take an incomplete in all my classes? Is that possible? Would I have to leave school completely? Or is there any way to wait until winter break and hope that 4 weeks is a long enough recovery time.
And what if the results come the other way...
What if I do find out that I am cancer-free? What does that even mean for me? Does it mean that I get to start worrying about the cancer recurring again? Or does it mean that I can start living my life again?
A lot of thoughts are rushing in and I am not sure how to process them all. So for now all I can do is take it one day at a time.
When you reach the end of your rope,
tie a knot in it and hang on.
*Thomas Jefferson
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Laughter and Grace
The last few weeks have went by extremely quick, which in a sense has been a huge blessing because I continue to count down days until I was finished with treatment. I dreaded waking up every morning to take my chemo pills. Although I would never actually "just not take them," there were definitely days where I pretty much had to force myself.
I spent the weekend in Bend, Oregon with my staff on a retreat, and I don't think it could have come at a better time.
I started off the retreat on a pretty low note because as we were pulling up to our destination, I got a call from my Aunt Jody to tell me that she just found out that she has breast cancer. This has definitely been a big distress to our family because of how much cancer is already affecting us.
I didn't want this news to ruin my weekend though, and although it was hard to get my mind off of it, I am truly blessed to have a staff that is able to know how to laugh and have a good time.
The weekend was full of Would You Rather statements, intense board and card games, good food, just laying around, trust falls, hiking, so much laughter, and life story time.
That is the part that always gets to me. Life stories.
I hate being in a state of vulnerability, so when it comes to my sharing life story–most of which a lot people don't expect or can relate to– I get nervous and don't want to share. So when it came the time for sharing, I hesitantly agreed.
And once again, I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful staff who all genuinely want to know me.
They listened with open hearts, full of grace.
I am extremely grateful to be journeying with a staff that desires to be in deep relationship with one another.This weekend was full of fellowship and rejuvenation and because of that, my heart is so full.
When I got back to campus, I tore off the weekend's worth of links from my paper chain countdown and was pleasantly surprised at the length of it.
I celebrated this excitement by... going to the doctors? Booo... I came back from retreat and slowly starting feeling sick and ended up with 100.8 temperature and slowly declining from there. I am currently at OHSU, with an IV in my arm pumping me full of fluid, hoping that this little bug goes away quickly. The doctors also did some blood work to see where my counts are at, so we're patiently waiting on that. Thank you all for your prayers and support!
The weekend was full of Would You Rather statements, intense board and card games, good food, just laying around, trust falls, hiking, so much laughter, and life story time.
That is the part that always gets to me. Life stories.
I hate being in a state of vulnerability, so when it comes to my sharing life story–most of which a lot people don't expect or can relate to– I get nervous and don't want to share. So when it came the time for sharing, I hesitantly agreed.
And once again, I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful staff who all genuinely want to know me.
They listened with open hearts, full of grace.
I am extremely grateful to be journeying with a staff that desires to be in deep relationship with one another.This weekend was full of fellowship and rejuvenation and because of that, my heart is so full.
When I got back to campus, I tore off the weekend's worth of links from my paper chain countdown and was pleasantly surprised at the length of it.
 |
| I only have a week left of oral chemo!! |
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Relying on Him
I jokingly told a friend the other day that I wish I could just hibernate for the next three weeks, but I am starting to think that I wasn't really joking as much as I thought I was.
I say this not to be anti-social, but rather I am just in this weird funk that seems almost impossible to get out of. I spent all Saturday morning and afternoon in solitude—just me and Jesus—and I thought that that might do the trick. I thought maybe if I just dug deep into His presence, then my heart would be so full that I would feel like everything was better.
Today I feel like my cup is empty. I am so exhausted in every aspect. I feel as if my strength has been stripped away, leaving me in a very emotional state. I came back to my room after a long day of classes and couldn't do anything but cry. And there wasn't really any good reason besides feeling overwhelmed and as if my hope is slowly dwindling away. I know there is so much truth behind the statement "Well, we all have bad days" but this has been going on for almost a week now, and I am worn out.
I can only hope and pray that this nightmare will be over at the end of these next three weeks, but until then I cannot continue to allow myself to fall into the lies that the enemy has been consistently whispering in my ear.
"You are weak, and can be defeated."
"How can you believe that God is with you?"
"There is no purpose in this suffering. Give up."
"It's not worth the fight."
These are all things that I know with all of my heart are not true, but when they are persistently being fed to me... I can't help but break down; crying out to God that He makes His presence known by surrounding me with an unexplainable peace.
At this moment in time, all I can think about it how CS Lewis says it best—"Relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing had yet been done."
I pray that I can realize every morning that there is no other way to live than to rely on Him with all of my being; trusting that He is always with me, even when I don't feel it.
I say this not to be anti-social, but rather I am just in this weird funk that seems almost impossible to get out of. I spent all Saturday morning and afternoon in solitude—just me and Jesus—and I thought that that might do the trick. I thought maybe if I just dug deep into His presence, then my heart would be so full that I would feel like everything was better.
Today I feel like my cup is empty. I am so exhausted in every aspect. I feel as if my strength has been stripped away, leaving me in a very emotional state. I came back to my room after a long day of classes and couldn't do anything but cry. And there wasn't really any good reason besides feeling overwhelmed and as if my hope is slowly dwindling away. I know there is so much truth behind the statement "Well, we all have bad days" but this has been going on for almost a week now, and I am worn out.
I can only hope and pray that this nightmare will be over at the end of these next three weeks, but until then I cannot continue to allow myself to fall into the lies that the enemy has been consistently whispering in my ear.
"You are weak, and can be defeated."
"How can you believe that God is with you?"
"There is no purpose in this suffering. Give up."
"It's not worth the fight."
These are all things that I know with all of my heart are not true, but when they are persistently being fed to me... I can't help but break down; crying out to God that He makes His presence known by surrounding me with an unexplainable peace.
At this moment in time, all I can think about it how CS Lewis says it best—"Relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing had yet been done."
I pray that I can realize every morning that there is no other way to live than to rely on Him with all of my being; trusting that He is always with me, even when I don't feel it.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Three Seconds
I woke up this morning excited that I had nothing planned. I was going to lay in my bed all day and just watch TV shows on my laptop. It sounded like a perfect day to me!
I got up and sat at my desk to read my Bible for a little bit, and right then and there... it hit me. After getting a full nights rest (12 hours! Thank you Lord!) why on Earth would I want to crawl right back in bed all day and do nothing?
I was trying to think about what I could do.
Something fun. And spontaneous... away from Fox and by myself.
Of course the first thing that pops into my head is road trip.
But to where?
Cannon Beach. Enough said.
I immediately got up, got dressed, grabbed some extra clothes in case it was raining... And I was off.
This morning and afternoon spent in Cannon Beach was absolute bliss and exactly what I needed. I spent the whole drive to Cannon Beach in prayer; turning all of my worries over to the only One who can handle them all.
Then I spent time walking the beach, as well as a good chunk of time at Insomnia Coffee Company reading my Bible and journaling about something that has been challenging me lately.
How often do we strain ourselves searching for the peace that is described in Philippians?
"Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus."
I feel like I am constantly praying and searching for that peace, but do I ever just be still?
My friend challenged me by sharing this:
"I was talking to *John (forgot name) and he was telling me about how he was sitting in the chair at that game, and just in 3 seconds he sat back and watched his family and friends share drinks, laugh, smile, and talk. And just in those 3 seconds, he was overwhelmed by peace."
I wonder how many times I have missed my 3 seconds, or how many times I get mad because it's not longer than that.
Today was different though.
As I stood at the waters edge, staring out into the vastness of the ocean, I felt a peace like I never have before.
Lord, I want to thank you for my '3 seconds' today and I want to pray that I continue to be still long enough to experience it more often.
I got up and sat at my desk to read my Bible for a little bit, and right then and there... it hit me. After getting a full nights rest (12 hours! Thank you Lord!) why on Earth would I want to crawl right back in bed all day and do nothing?
I was trying to think about what I could do.
Something fun. And spontaneous... away from Fox and by myself.
Of course the first thing that pops into my head is road trip.
But to where?
Cannon Beach. Enough said.
I immediately got up, got dressed, grabbed some extra clothes in case it was raining... And I was off.
This morning and afternoon spent in Cannon Beach was absolute bliss and exactly what I needed. I spent the whole drive to Cannon Beach in prayer; turning all of my worries over to the only One who can handle them all.
Then I spent time walking the beach, as well as a good chunk of time at Insomnia Coffee Company reading my Bible and journaling about something that has been challenging me lately.
How often do we strain ourselves searching for the peace that is described in Philippians?
"Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus."
I feel like I am constantly praying and searching for that peace, but do I ever just be still?
My friend challenged me by sharing this:
"I was talking to *John (forgot name) and he was telling me about how he was sitting in the chair at that game, and just in 3 seconds he sat back and watched his family and friends share drinks, laugh, smile, and talk. And just in those 3 seconds, he was overwhelmed by peace."
I wonder how many times I have missed my 3 seconds, or how many times I get mad because it's not longer than that.
Today was different though.
As I stood at the waters edge, staring out into the vastness of the ocean, I felt a peace like I never have before.
Lord, I want to thank you for my '3 seconds' today and I want to pray that I continue to be still long enough to experience it more often.
 |
| Blissful Day. |
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Prayerful Tears
If you told me a year ago—I mean heck—if you even told me the day before I was diagnosed that I was going to battle cancer at 20 years old, I would have never believed you.
Cancer is one of those things you obviously know happens, but never believe will happen to you.
Having cancer has taught me a lot, but the learning has been painful, isolating, discouraging.... heartbreaking.
People call me brave and strong; inspirational and courageous. And generally speaking, I always have a hard time believing these compliments. I am just simply trying my best to live a normal life in the face of great adversity.
I am not trying to undermine these encouraging compliments that many of you have given me because honestly your words of affirmation are what get me through most days. People tell me what they're praying for some days—for example:
"I pray that the peace that passes understanding will be with you today. God moves even when we don't feel Him and His spirit is laying heavy on you today." or "Praying that you feel the hand of God today but also praying that for those times you can't feel it, that you would cling to the knowledge you have in the Lord."... These things are very appreciated and needed.
Something else I hear all the time is that people don't believe that they would be like me in this situation; they seem to not believe that they would adhere to their faith. And in all honesty, I didn't think that I would have the strength that I do either, but this is just a clear example that God does give you strength when you need it.
I have cried more in just the last couple days than I have throughout my whole cancer battle thus far. I don't know why, but I am having such a hard time. I find myself constantly wishing that this wasn't the road I had to be on; wishing that there is some way to go back in time and somehow not get cancer. I have a doctors appointment tomorrow that is going tell me whether I will be needing a bone marrow transplant, and find myself already preparing for the procedure because I expect the worst. I mean, I already have one of my best friends who wants to donate bone barrow for me if she is a match.
I am constantly praying for those around me, but as soon as it comes to having a conversation with God about myself–I choke up. I don't know what to say. I try so hard to believe that prayer is powerful enough to move the hand of God, but I can't help but wonder why it hasn't done so yet.
"Tears are prayers too. They travel to God when we can't speak."
I believe that God has a plan for me beyond my cancer, but until then, I need to be okay that my prayers may only consist of tears. And in the midst of crying, I will turn my focus towards Him, and maybe for just a second I can bask in His holiness while the worldly woes vanish around me.
Cancer is one of those things you obviously know happens, but never believe will happen to you.
Having cancer has taught me a lot, but the learning has been painful, isolating, discouraging.... heartbreaking.
People call me brave and strong; inspirational and courageous. And generally speaking, I always have a hard time believing these compliments. I am just simply trying my best to live a normal life in the face of great adversity.
I am not trying to undermine these encouraging compliments that many of you have given me because honestly your words of affirmation are what get me through most days. People tell me what they're praying for some days—for example:
"I pray that the peace that passes understanding will be with you today. God moves even when we don't feel Him and His spirit is laying heavy on you today." or "Praying that you feel the hand of God today but also praying that for those times you can't feel it, that you would cling to the knowledge you have in the Lord."... These things are very appreciated and needed.
Something else I hear all the time is that people don't believe that they would be like me in this situation; they seem to not believe that they would adhere to their faith. And in all honesty, I didn't think that I would have the strength that I do either, but this is just a clear example that God does give you strength when you need it.
I have cried more in just the last couple days than I have throughout my whole cancer battle thus far. I don't know why, but I am having such a hard time. I find myself constantly wishing that this wasn't the road I had to be on; wishing that there is some way to go back in time and somehow not get cancer. I have a doctors appointment tomorrow that is going tell me whether I will be needing a bone marrow transplant, and find myself already preparing for the procedure because I expect the worst. I mean, I already have one of my best friends who wants to donate bone barrow for me if she is a match.
I am constantly praying for those around me, but as soon as it comes to having a conversation with God about myself–I choke up. I don't know what to say. I try so hard to believe that prayer is powerful enough to move the hand of God, but I can't help but wonder why it hasn't done so yet.
"Tears are prayers too. They travel to God when we can't speak."
I believe that God has a plan for me beyond my cancer, but until then, I need to be okay that my prayers may only consist of tears. And in the midst of crying, I will turn my focus towards Him, and maybe for just a second I can bask in His holiness while the worldly woes vanish around me.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
It Is Well
It has been a very draining week. I have spent countless hours in the hospital between surgery, physical therapy, radiation, more biopsies, and getting ready for chemo that starts tomorrow. It is difficult to continuously be crushed by the power of cancer and the looming threat of spreading and relapse.
How do I find any kind of comfort in this?
I find myself constantly frustrated that the end is always just out of reach, but today I was reminded that it is a choice each and every single day to choose how I look at the situation I am in . Of course I need to make sure I am honest about my feelings, but what if even on the hardest of days I chose to always seek out the comfort of Christ?
As suffering has overtaken my heart, filled my mind with fear, and has turned my life upside down—I must choose to turn to Christ for comfort and peace. He is the only genuine hope we can cling to in such dark and sorrow filled moment.
William Cowper said in a poem, "Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face." I am certain that God has hidden His smiling face behind this bitter providence in my life. It's just hard because the only thing I continue to see is the looming clouds of darkness. I have found that the comforting words of friends and the peace of God that passes all understanding are what is capable of bringing true hope in the midst of this all.
Today in church we sang It Is Well with My Soul, then after the service a sweet friend of mine came up to me and said, "Is it well with your soul? I was thinking about you during that song!"
I didn't know what to say. It is, but it isn't. I came home and immediately listened to the song again.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, 'It is well with my soul.'
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, Let this blest assurance control, That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
And, Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, The clouds be rolled back as a scroll, The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend, 'Even so,' it is well with my soul.
Chorus: It is well with my soul, It is well, it is well with my soul
How can I find hope and comfort in the midst of suffering? I can run to Jesus and find absolute hope and comfort in the death of Jesus Christ. Jesus' death has completely defeated my suffering. Hope doesn't exist in the world, but it does exist in Christ.
So even now, in the midst of my suffering; in the midst of the unknown, heartache, frustration and fear...
It is well with my soul.
How do I find any kind of comfort in this?
I find myself constantly frustrated that the end is always just out of reach, but today I was reminded that it is a choice each and every single day to choose how I look at the situation I am in . Of course I need to make sure I am honest about my feelings, but what if even on the hardest of days I chose to always seek out the comfort of Christ?
As suffering has overtaken my heart, filled my mind with fear, and has turned my life upside down—I must choose to turn to Christ for comfort and peace. He is the only genuine hope we can cling to in such dark and sorrow filled moment.
William Cowper said in a poem, "Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face." I am certain that God has hidden His smiling face behind this bitter providence in my life. It's just hard because the only thing I continue to see is the looming clouds of darkness. I have found that the comforting words of friends and the peace of God that passes all understanding are what is capable of bringing true hope in the midst of this all.
Today in church we sang It Is Well with My Soul, then after the service a sweet friend of mine came up to me and said, "Is it well with your soul? I was thinking about you during that song!"
I didn't know what to say. It is, but it isn't. I came home and immediately listened to the song again.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, 'It is well with my soul.'
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, Let this blest assurance control, That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
And, Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, The clouds be rolled back as a scroll, The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend, 'Even so,' it is well with my soul.
Chorus: It is well with my soul, It is well, it is well with my soul
How can I find hope and comfort in the midst of suffering? I can run to Jesus and find absolute hope and comfort in the death of Jesus Christ. Jesus' death has completely defeated my suffering. Hope doesn't exist in the world, but it does exist in Christ.
So even now, in the midst of my suffering; in the midst of the unknown, heartache, frustration and fear...
It is well with my soul.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Just Out Of Reach
Today I have spent a lot of time in tears; tears of frustration.
Complete remission has been just within arms reach several times in the last 6 1/2 months, but each time the door gets slammed right in my face.
While sitting at my doctors appointment today, my doctor walked in with a little folder and informed me that my biopsy results are in.
My eyes got big, almost gleaming in a sense, because I believed that today was going to be the day that I would be declared cancer-free.
But my doctor had a different look in his eye.
A look of despair; of sorrow... The look of bad news.
Everything he started explaining to me made no sense at all. And I mean that literally. I think this was honestly the first time that I was completely confused at what the results showed.
The best explanation I received was this:
"The cells in the removed lymph nodes and the cells in the newly enlarged lymph nodes are all acting and spreading as if they are cancerous, but they show no physical characteristics (such as shape, genetic mutations, etc.) that would indicate cancer."
All I heard from all of this is that I have to go through 4 weeks of oral chemo starting on Monday to kill off these abnormal cells.
Once again, I am left making a 28-link paper chain; hoping that this would be the last one I have to make for this cancer battle.
BATTLE [bat-tle/batl/]: Fight or struggle tenaciously to achieve or resist something.
SOLDIER [sol-jer]: Someone who fights FOR you.
These are words that have constantly been used these last 6 1/2 months. I am suited up for battle, and I am so thankful to have so many soldiers in my corner.
"Everybody has a home team: It's the people you call when you get a flat tire or when something terrible happens. It's the people who, near or far, know everything that's wrong with you and love you anyways. These are the ones who tell you their secrets, who get themselves a glass of water without asking when they're at your house. These are the people who cry when you cry. These are your people, your middle-of-the-night, no-matter-what people."
*Shauna Niequist; Bittersweet.
I have these kind of people in my life. I have a home team. My support system seems infinite and because of that-I am incredibly blessed. This whole thing is a constant reminder that we are ALL intimately loved by the God who has infinite resources, that come in the form of these amazing people, these helping hands...adding strength and courage to any fight.
I swear, without them, I would not have made it this far.
They are there for my sad days with endless solace and support and on the blessed victorious days, with tearful cheers.
This is proof that He is always consistent and steadfast; always providing.
There isn't any amount of darkness that even one small candle can't brighten and in that, faith and hope are rising. Right. Now.
God is still good;
Even when my world has been shaken over and over again.
Complete remission has been just within arms reach several times in the last 6 1/2 months, but each time the door gets slammed right in my face.
While sitting at my doctors appointment today, my doctor walked in with a little folder and informed me that my biopsy results are in.
My eyes got big, almost gleaming in a sense, because I believed that today was going to be the day that I would be declared cancer-free.
But my doctor had a different look in his eye.
A look of despair; of sorrow... The look of bad news.
Everything he started explaining to me made no sense at all. And I mean that literally. I think this was honestly the first time that I was completely confused at what the results showed.
The best explanation I received was this:
"The cells in the removed lymph nodes and the cells in the newly enlarged lymph nodes are all acting and spreading as if they are cancerous, but they show no physical characteristics (such as shape, genetic mutations, etc.) that would indicate cancer."
All I heard from all of this is that I have to go through 4 weeks of oral chemo starting on Monday to kill off these abnormal cells.
Once again, I am left making a 28-link paper chain; hoping that this would be the last one I have to make for this cancer battle.
BATTLE [bat-tle/batl/]: Fight or struggle tenaciously to achieve or resist something.
SOLDIER [sol-jer]: Someone who fights FOR you.
These are words that have constantly been used these last 6 1/2 months. I am suited up for battle, and I am so thankful to have so many soldiers in my corner.
"Everybody has a home team: It's the people you call when you get a flat tire or when something terrible happens. It's the people who, near or far, know everything that's wrong with you and love you anyways. These are the ones who tell you their secrets, who get themselves a glass of water without asking when they're at your house. These are the people who cry when you cry. These are your people, your middle-of-the-night, no-matter-what people."
*Shauna Niequist; Bittersweet.
I have these kind of people in my life. I have a home team. My support system seems infinite and because of that-I am incredibly blessed. This whole thing is a constant reminder that we are ALL intimately loved by the God who has infinite resources, that come in the form of these amazing people, these helping hands...adding strength and courage to any fight.
I swear, without them, I would not have made it this far.
They are there for my sad days with endless solace and support and on the blessed victorious days, with tearful cheers.
This is proof that He is always consistent and steadfast; always providing.
There isn't any amount of darkness that even one small candle can't brighten and in that, faith and hope are rising. Right. Now.
God is still good;
Even when my world has been shaken over and over again.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Progress in Steps
As most of you know, I have been going through physical therapy these last couple days. During surgery, in order to get to the cancerous lymph nodes in my groin, they had to cut through my muscle and nerves in my upper thigh. Leaving me unable to walk very far without a lot of pain.
I was really disappointed after my first physical therapy appointment, but then again I think I let myself down because I had such high expectations for recovery. I was upset that during my first appointment I didn't improve my walking distance at all. If anything, I felt like I was walking less because we did so many stretches that make me ridiculously sore. It's honestly so crazy how much pain there is just while walking from a muscle in your upper thigh being cut through.
But thank God I have friends who hold me accountable about having high expectations. I had a friend who gave me a reality check by making sure that I realized it was only 5 days ago that they cut into my leg. I mean, even then I really wanted to get up and moving soon.
I told my PT that I had the goal of being back at Fox within a week, he said that with where I am now that that might be stretching it. I say Challenge Accepted.
Day two started with a lot of stretches. And if I had any say in it, I would have been done after the first one. The stretching that he does hurts way worse than the actual walking.
In fact, it hurt so much that I kicked my physical therapist in the face!
Okay, I didn't do it on purpose, but it's fun to make it sound that way. He did some stretch where put my leg up, bent my knee, and then pushed down. And somehow from that my instant reflex was to kick my leg up, which happened to also be where his face was located. Of course I felt bad, but he just laughed it off and said that it has happened before.
This whole physical therapy thing was concerning me because he was doing all of these stretches, but never actually working on my walking. I had been there two days and we did 45 minutes of stretching each time. I mean, couldn't I do that at home?
When I walked into day three, my physical therapist wasn't anywhere in site like normal. The assistant told me to take a seat over on the stretching table and that he would be right now.
Then from around the corner my physical therapist walked in...
With a face mask on!
I started busting up laughing. He took it off and said he just enjoyed giving me a hard time. We began stretching again and I asked if this was going to another 45 minutes of stretching or was I actually going to work on walking with him.
He looked at me an sort of chuckled. He said, "Well you know how to walk don't know? Why would we need to work on that?"
Which I guess makes complete sense, but I know how to stretch too!
Then he told me that once again, he was joking with me and that we will start walking distance tomorrow!
So here I am after day three of physical therapy, still believing that I will be back at Fox by next week. I am working hard to make that happen. I do my stretches at home, and I scale the hallways in order to get more pressure applied to my leg so if anything I can get used to the pain.
"If you are persistent long enough, even though the journey is physically hard and often tiresome, you may reach a place of beauty and splendor beyond comprehension."
I am having to constantly remind myself that progress is progress, no matter how small. And I need to understand that sometimes I have to accept the little steps before I can receive the bigger outcome.
I was really disappointed after my first physical therapy appointment, but then again I think I let myself down because I had such high expectations for recovery. I was upset that during my first appointment I didn't improve my walking distance at all. If anything, I felt like I was walking less because we did so many stretches that make me ridiculously sore. It's honestly so crazy how much pain there is just while walking from a muscle in your upper thigh being cut through.
But thank God I have friends who hold me accountable about having high expectations. I had a friend who gave me a reality check by making sure that I realized it was only 5 days ago that they cut into my leg. I mean, even then I really wanted to get up and moving soon.
I told my PT that I had the goal of being back at Fox within a week, he said that with where I am now that that might be stretching it. I say Challenge Accepted.
Day two started with a lot of stretches. And if I had any say in it, I would have been done after the first one. The stretching that he does hurts way worse than the actual walking.
In fact, it hurt so much that I kicked my physical therapist in the face!
Okay, I didn't do it on purpose, but it's fun to make it sound that way. He did some stretch where put my leg up, bent my knee, and then pushed down. And somehow from that my instant reflex was to kick my leg up, which happened to also be where his face was located. Of course I felt bad, but he just laughed it off and said that it has happened before.
This whole physical therapy thing was concerning me because he was doing all of these stretches, but never actually working on my walking. I had been there two days and we did 45 minutes of stretching each time. I mean, couldn't I do that at home?
When I walked into day three, my physical therapist wasn't anywhere in site like normal. The assistant told me to take a seat over on the stretching table and that he would be right now.
Then from around the corner my physical therapist walked in...
With a face mask on!
I started busting up laughing. He took it off and said he just enjoyed giving me a hard time. We began stretching again and I asked if this was going to another 45 minutes of stretching or was I actually going to work on walking with him.
He looked at me an sort of chuckled. He said, "Well you know how to walk don't know? Why would we need to work on that?"
Which I guess makes complete sense, but I know how to stretch too!
Then he told me that once again, he was joking with me and that we will start walking distance tomorrow!
So here I am after day three of physical therapy, still believing that I will be back at Fox by next week. I am working hard to make that happen. I do my stretches at home, and I scale the hallways in order to get more pressure applied to my leg so if anything I can get used to the pain.
"If you are persistent long enough, even though the journey is physically hard and often tiresome, you may reach a place of beauty and splendor beyond comprehension."
I am having to constantly remind myself that progress is progress, no matter how small. And I need to understand that sometimes I have to accept the little steps before I can receive the bigger outcome.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Living 'Palms Up'
"I used to think clenched fists would help me fight better, but now I know they made me weaker."
This is the opening statement to a chapter in Bob Goff's book Love Does.
Bob Goff talks about how most people could get angry at a grapefruit when ours fists are clenched and that seems to be how we think we'll get the most out of life.
But how can we take the image of a clenched fist most commonly used for fighting and parallel it to using a clenched fist for anything good?
It made me think about how often I approach life with a clenched fist. Have I had a clenched fist during my whole cancer battle? Have I assumed that in order to keep fighting, I need to punch my way through the tough things?
By having my fists clenched, I think it prevents me from receiving blessing.
We can't live life with clenched fists... Jesus calls us to live life with Palms Up.
"Something about the hardwiring God gave each of us links the position of our bodies and position of our hearts."
Are my fists clenched and is my heart closed? What would life look like if I lived with my palms up and my heart open? Would it be harder for me to get defensive or frustrated?
Living palms up means you are hiding nothing, and don't look at life as a way to "gain or lose." Palms up means you are strong enough to be vulnerable, even with your enemies. Even when you have been extremely hurt. Jesus was palms up, always.
"When people ask me what it looks like to follow Jesus, I usually say that following Him looks like dealing with all of the issues everyone else does—disappointments, tremendous joy, uncertainty, the whole bit—and having your mind change all the time as you learn how Jesus would've dealt with things."
It makes me wonder...
How would Jesus handle having cancer?
This is the opening statement to a chapter in Bob Goff's book Love Does.
Bob Goff talks about how most people could get angry at a grapefruit when ours fists are clenched and that seems to be how we think we'll get the most out of life.
But how can we take the image of a clenched fist most commonly used for fighting and parallel it to using a clenched fist for anything good?
It made me think about how often I approach life with a clenched fist. Have I had a clenched fist during my whole cancer battle? Have I assumed that in order to keep fighting, I need to punch my way through the tough things?
By having my fists clenched, I think it prevents me from receiving blessing.
We can't live life with clenched fists... Jesus calls us to live life with Palms Up.
"Something about the hardwiring God gave each of us links the position of our bodies and position of our hearts."
Are my fists clenched and is my heart closed? What would life look like if I lived with my palms up and my heart open? Would it be harder for me to get defensive or frustrated?
Living palms up means you are hiding nothing, and don't look at life as a way to "gain or lose." Palms up means you are strong enough to be vulnerable, even with your enemies. Even when you have been extremely hurt. Jesus was palms up, always.
"When people ask me what it looks like to follow Jesus, I usually say that following Him looks like dealing with all of the issues everyone else does—disappointments, tremendous joy, uncertainty, the whole bit—and having your mind change all the time as you learn how Jesus would've dealt with things."
It makes me wonder...
How would Jesus handle having cancer?
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The Waiting Game
I hate waiting.
I have to wait to hear my results.
I have to wait to go back to Fox.
I have to wait before I can take a bath (which I desperately want to do!)
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Yes, I have a positive attitude through most of this, but I also don't put my angers and frustrations on facebook. That is what my blog is for.
Today I posted "Hi ho, hi ho, it's back to the doctors I go (insert whistling here)." Which almost makes it seem as if I didn't have a problem going to the doctors.
But in reality, my aunt had to literally drag me out of bed. I woke up this morning and somehow forgot about my leg and swung quickly out of bed and obviously put way too much pressure on that leg because I collapsed to the ground in tears. The movement that I did wasn't any different than any normal person would do, but my leg isn't ready for that yet.
After this happened, I got back in bed and told myself that I was not even going to try. I got really stubborn and decided that maybe if I just stopped trying to walk on it and just stayed in bed all week then maybe by next week it would be completely fine to walk on.
We all know that this would not work, as my leg would probably stiffen and my muscle wouldn't heal right, but I am just sick of taking baby steps. I am still trying to find the milestones that I can celebrate, but it's been 2 days since I walked the distance of the hallway at the hospital and I have not been able to walk that far again.
I think I was just so eager to get out of the hospital, that I was so determined to do whatever it took.
Going into the surgery I knew that there was going to be pain involved, and a recovery time. I guess I just underestimated how much "recovery" there would be. I didn't know that I would have to pretty much treat my leg as if they just did knee surgery and learn to walk all over again. They cut through my upper thigh muscles and nerves to remove lymph nodes. Who knew that I wouldn't be able to walk because of that?
I told many people before surgery that I wish there was a way to have surgery, but not have to deal with recovery. I think I wished that now more than ever.
After my aunt drug me out bed, she worked with me on walking out to the car by myself. I made it about a fourth of the way there and wanted to sit down on the ground.
The image I had in my head was a little kid laying on their belly, kicking their arms and legs, screaming and crying.
If only that was appropriate for a 20-year-old to do...
I have to wait to hear my results.
I have to wait to go back to Fox.
I have to wait before I can take a bath (which I desperately want to do!)
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Yes, I have a positive attitude through most of this, but I also don't put my angers and frustrations on facebook. That is what my blog is for.
Today I posted "Hi ho, hi ho, it's back to the doctors I go (insert whistling here)." Which almost makes it seem as if I didn't have a problem going to the doctors.
But in reality, my aunt had to literally drag me out of bed. I woke up this morning and somehow forgot about my leg and swung quickly out of bed and obviously put way too much pressure on that leg because I collapsed to the ground in tears. The movement that I did wasn't any different than any normal person would do, but my leg isn't ready for that yet.
After this happened, I got back in bed and told myself that I was not even going to try. I got really stubborn and decided that maybe if I just stopped trying to walk on it and just stayed in bed all week then maybe by next week it would be completely fine to walk on.
We all know that this would not work, as my leg would probably stiffen and my muscle wouldn't heal right, but I am just sick of taking baby steps. I am still trying to find the milestones that I can celebrate, but it's been 2 days since I walked the distance of the hallway at the hospital and I have not been able to walk that far again.
I think I was just so eager to get out of the hospital, that I was so determined to do whatever it took.
Going into the surgery I knew that there was going to be pain involved, and a recovery time. I guess I just underestimated how much "recovery" there would be. I didn't know that I would have to pretty much treat my leg as if they just did knee surgery and learn to walk all over again. They cut through my upper thigh muscles and nerves to remove lymph nodes. Who knew that I wouldn't be able to walk because of that?
I told many people before surgery that I wish there was a way to have surgery, but not have to deal with recovery. I think I wished that now more than ever.
After my aunt drug me out bed, she worked with me on walking out to the car by myself. I made it about a fourth of the way there and wanted to sit down on the ground.
The image I had in my head was a little kid laying on their belly, kicking their arms and legs, screaming and crying.
If only that was appropriate for a 20-year-old to do...
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Milestones
This recovery time is going to be all about milestones for me. It is extremely hard to be held up in bed so much.
I was laying in bed from 10am on Friday until 10am on Sunday.
A whole 48 hours!
If you know me at all, you know that this does not rest well with me. I had to eat gross hospital food (except my first meal after surgery), I couldn't even use an actual bathroom, I still haven't been able to shower since Friday morning, and it hurts to move most of the time.
This morning when I woke up the doctors realized that it had been 24 hours and my fluid bag only had 19mL in it, meaning they were able to remove the tubes from my leg.
After they removed the tube, they bandaged up my leg and said that the physical therapist would be in in about an hour or so to see if I could walk. This brought a huge smile to my face! I think I looked at the clock every minute during that hour hoping that she would be coming in early.
When she walked in the door, I was ready to jump out of bed but little did I realize-my body was definitely not ready to do that.
As soon as I stood up, I was in so much pain that I wanted to lay back down. She continued to inform me that I needed to take some steps. I took about 5 steps and then got back in bed.
This was really frustrating to me. I guess I just had such high expectations for my recovery that I just wished that I wasn't going to be held up for so long.
I was then told that if I could walk down to the end of the hallway without excruciating pain, then I could go home.
Challenge accepted.
I worked hard every other hour to take a couple more steps each time, and the second before last time I realized that it was going to take about 15 steps to get to the end of the hallway. (technically 30 steps because I am counting steps by just my right leg).
So around 4pm I got up out of my bed knowing that this was going to be the time I made it to the end. I started walking and about 3/4 of the way there, my leg was super tired. I never realized how much you use your upper thigh when walking, but I was determined to make it.
When I reached the end of the hallway, I collapsed on the ground in exhaustion and my physical therapist started clapping. This boosted my spirits a whole lot. I haven't started making my trek home yet, but I am pretty sure we are leaving within the next couple of hours. I don't know what my next milestone will be, but I am excited to find the joy in it.
Every single milestone, whether big or small, is a chance to find joy in this hard journey. And a chance to give glory to our Heavenly Father who is in control of every detail in this season of my life.
"Joy is the settled assurance that God is in control of all details of my life, the quiet confidence that ultimately everything is going to be all right, and the determined choice to praise God in all things."
I truly believe that in this time of familiar, but unknown territory that by clinging onto God's presence does not show any special strength on my part, but rather that God does provide strength when you need it most.
I was laying in bed from 10am on Friday until 10am on Sunday.
A whole 48 hours!
If you know me at all, you know that this does not rest well with me. I had to eat gross hospital food (except my first meal after surgery), I couldn't even use an actual bathroom, I still haven't been able to shower since Friday morning, and it hurts to move most of the time.
This morning when I woke up the doctors realized that it had been 24 hours and my fluid bag only had 19mL in it, meaning they were able to remove the tubes from my leg.
After they removed the tube, they bandaged up my leg and said that the physical therapist would be in in about an hour or so to see if I could walk. This brought a huge smile to my face! I think I looked at the clock every minute during that hour hoping that she would be coming in early.
When she walked in the door, I was ready to jump out of bed but little did I realize-my body was definitely not ready to do that.
As soon as I stood up, I was in so much pain that I wanted to lay back down. She continued to inform me that I needed to take some steps. I took about 5 steps and then got back in bed.
This was really frustrating to me. I guess I just had such high expectations for my recovery that I just wished that I wasn't going to be held up for so long.
I was then told that if I could walk down to the end of the hallway without excruciating pain, then I could go home.
Challenge accepted.
I worked hard every other hour to take a couple more steps each time, and the second before last time I realized that it was going to take about 15 steps to get to the end of the hallway. (technically 30 steps because I am counting steps by just my right leg).
So around 4pm I got up out of my bed knowing that this was going to be the time I made it to the end. I started walking and about 3/4 of the way there, my leg was super tired. I never realized how much you use your upper thigh when walking, but I was determined to make it.
When I reached the end of the hallway, I collapsed on the ground in exhaustion and my physical therapist started clapping. This boosted my spirits a whole lot. I haven't started making my trek home yet, but I am pretty sure we are leaving within the next couple of hours. I don't know what my next milestone will be, but I am excited to find the joy in it.
Every single milestone, whether big or small, is a chance to find joy in this hard journey. And a chance to give glory to our Heavenly Father who is in control of every detail in this season of my life.
"Joy is the settled assurance that God is in control of all details of my life, the quiet confidence that ultimately everything is going to be all right, and the determined choice to praise God in all things."
I truly believe that in this time of familiar, but unknown territory that by clinging onto God's presence does not show any special strength on my part, but rather that God does provide strength when you need it most.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
His Light Shines
Before the surgery, I knew that there was a possibility of having to wait awhile before I heard the results from the biopsies they will be doing. But today I found out that it is going to close to 2 weeks, if not more before I find out my next plan of treatment is.
If the lymph nodes that they removed from my armpit show any sign of cancer, then that means I have stage 3 lymphoma and will be needing to start chemotherapy again as soon as possible. If they don't show cancer, then they will do a scan to make sure that there aren't any other swollen lymph nodes and then do a couple radiations and then I would be declared in complete remission. So these are obviously 2 opposite sides of the spectrum that we are looking at.
I had a meltdown this morning thinking about the things that could potentially lie ahead. I don't want to have to start going through chemo again. I don't want to have to suit up for battle once again and have to endure through the intense pain that I felt before. I can only pray that God will intercede on my behalf; that He would make this cancer be gone from my body. Does healing count when it is only temporary? I know that He has plans for me beyond my cancer, but when will that be?
After spending all this time questioning the Lord and what the purpose in having to go through this once again was, I picked up Jesus Calling.
And again, the Lord is so faithful.
October 6th.
Be willing to follow wherever I lead. Follow Me wholeheartedly, with glad anticipation quickening your pace. Though you don't know what lies ahead, I know; and that is enough! Some of My richest blessings are just around the bend: out of sight, but nonetheless very real. To receive these gifts, you much walk by faith–not by sight. This doesn't mean closing your eyes to what is all around you. It means subordinating the visible world to the invisible Shepherd of your soul.
Sometimes I lead you up a high mountain with only My hand to support you. The higher you climb, the more spectacular the view becomes; also, the more keenly you sense your separation from the world with all its problems. This frees you to experience exuberantly the joyous reality of My Presence. Give yourself fully to these Glory-moments, awash in dazzling Light. I will eventually lead you down the mountain, back in community with others. Let My Light continue to shine within you as you walk among people again.
2 Corinthians 5:7
For we live by faith, not by sight.
Psalm 96:6
Splendor and majesty are before him; strength and glory are in his sanctuary.
Because the Lord knows what lies ahead, then I am choosing to have faith that I am going to be okay. I will continue to let His light shine through this suffering as I walk among other people.
Friday, October 5, 2012
He is Faithful
I lay here 45 minutes before my surgery reminded of God's faithfulness in my life. The doctors are finally done poking me with needles, and then I received a text from a friend saying they read Jesus Calling today and thought of me. I then remembered that I had Jesus Calling in my backpack. This devotional book is a 365 day devotion, so it has each date written at the top.
Today: October 5th.
Remember that Joy is not dependent on your circumstances. Come of the world's most miserable people are those whose circumstances seem most enviable. People who reach the top of the ladder career-wise are often surprised to find emptiness awaiting them. True Joy is a by-product of living in My Presence. Therefore you can experience it in palaces, in prisons...anywhere.
Do not judge a day as devoid of Joy just because it contains difficulties. Instead, concentrate on staying in communication with Me. Many of the problems that clamor for your attention will resolve themselves. Other matters you must deal with, but I will help you with them. If you make problem-solving secondary to the goal of living close to Me, you can find Joy even in your most difficult days.
Habakkuk 3:17-19
Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deeer,
he enables me to treat on the heights.
1 Chronicles 16:27
Splendor and majesty are before him;
strength and joy are in his dwelling place.
I was just given a ten minute warning to head into the actually surgery room to finish final preparations. I know it seems crazy that I am blogging right before going under, but I wanted you to be able to rejoice in His faithfulness with me.
God works in incredible ways!
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Joy as Strength
Packing was really easy this morning. Normally when I am coming home I have to think about all the things I am planning on doing and what I should wear for that.
Church clothes.
Coffee date clothes.
Hang out clothes.
Sleepover clothes.
And so many other things.
This time it was simple... After surgery clothes was all that I needed. Which completely consisted of basketball shorts, running shorts, sweats, and a lot of cut-off shirts as well as oversize t-shirts.
Tomorrow is the big day. The incisions that they will be doing are on my upper leg/groin area and then one on my side by my armpit. Very awkward places! Which explains the clothes that I packed. I need loose fitting, comfortable clothing that will not bother my incisions.
I ended up saving packing for the last minute because I really did not want to do it. I did not want to face the reality that I was leaving Fox and heading back to Washington for an extended period of time. I mean, I feel like I just got back to school!
I have been wanting so much to sit down and write the last couple of weeks because there is so much emotion surrounding the fact that the cancer came back, but I just couldn't do it.
I couldn't, and still can't, find the words to say.
I want to be able to say that I am doing great, or that this is a lot easier the second time around. Which in a sense, yes–it is. But cancer is cancer no matter how many times you have it.
Something that I have come to know realize though is that God is still good no matter how many times I get cancer.
Yes, there are days where I don't feel like getting up.
Yes, there are days when I feel like God is distant.
Yes, there are days that I wish things were different.
But I am still clinging to the fact that He has never left my side. I don't believe that God had cancer in His plan for me, but I do believe that He can bring some kind of purpose to it since He has chosen not to intercede yet.
I have been surprised at how many people have told me that they are inspired by my continued trust in the Lord despite the challenges I have been facing. But I think I am only surprised at that because what else would I do in a time like this?
If I turned my back on the Lord whenever I had a hard season in my life, I don't think I would ever be in relationship with Him.
Yes, obviously cancer sucks–a whole lot–but I can't help but trust that even amidst my fear, frustration, anxiety, shock, etc—God is ready to use this for His Kingdom.
"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:4-7.
I am choosing to rejoice in the Lord by letting His joy be my strength through this.
Church clothes.
Coffee date clothes.
Hang out clothes.
Sleepover clothes.
And so many other things.
This time it was simple... After surgery clothes was all that I needed. Which completely consisted of basketball shorts, running shorts, sweats, and a lot of cut-off shirts as well as oversize t-shirts.
Tomorrow is the big day. The incisions that they will be doing are on my upper leg/groin area and then one on my side by my armpit. Very awkward places! Which explains the clothes that I packed. I need loose fitting, comfortable clothing that will not bother my incisions.
I ended up saving packing for the last minute because I really did not want to do it. I did not want to face the reality that I was leaving Fox and heading back to Washington for an extended period of time. I mean, I feel like I just got back to school!
I have been wanting so much to sit down and write the last couple of weeks because there is so much emotion surrounding the fact that the cancer came back, but I just couldn't do it.
I couldn't, and still can't, find the words to say.
I want to be able to say that I am doing great, or that this is a lot easier the second time around. Which in a sense, yes–it is. But cancer is cancer no matter how many times you have it.
Something that I have come to know realize though is that God is still good no matter how many times I get cancer.
Yes, there are days where I don't feel like getting up.
Yes, there are days when I feel like God is distant.
Yes, there are days that I wish things were different.
But I am still clinging to the fact that He has never left my side. I don't believe that God had cancer in His plan for me, but I do believe that He can bring some kind of purpose to it since He has chosen not to intercede yet.
I have been surprised at how many people have told me that they are inspired by my continued trust in the Lord despite the challenges I have been facing. But I think I am only surprised at that because what else would I do in a time like this?
If I turned my back on the Lord whenever I had a hard season in my life, I don't think I would ever be in relationship with Him.
Yes, obviously cancer sucks–a whole lot–but I can't help but trust that even amidst my fear, frustration, anxiety, shock, etc—God is ready to use this for His Kingdom.
"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:4-7.
I am choosing to rejoice in the Lord by letting His joy be my strength through this.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Let Me Be
I spent my evening in the Penn lobby, sobbing over a TV show.
Yes, you read that right. A TV show.
But if you know me at all, I cry about everything when it comes to movies, TV shows, and even sometimes commercials.
Tonight my TV show of choice was Parenthood. This week was episode two of the 3rd season. The premiere last week set this season to be a very emotional one.
All within the last 3 minutes of the show (with no words, but sad music) one of the main characters (who will be known as *Janet for those who watch the show and haven't seen it yet) had a doctors appointment, had a mammogram, got the results, positive for breast cancer, and then cried in her husbands arms to end the episode.
Now I bet it doesn't sound ridiculous that I was crying, right?
I remember when I very first heard the word cancer come from the doctor's mouth. My mind completely left the room and I felt like my mind was spinning, and that is how it portrayed *Janet when she found out.
So the episode I watched tonight consisted of her having appointments, scheduling surgery, meeting a fellow cancer patient, and lots of crying. Which in turn led to me crying a lot.
But the thing about this episode I really appreciated was the amount of reality that this show portrayed.
The moments in the doctor's offices, the moments waiting for treatment surrounded by people like you, the moments in which you don't know what to do but cry... Those are real, genuine emotions.
*Janet went to a doctors appointment in which she was told that she would have to be getting her Sentinel lymph nodes removed along with get a lumpectomy to make sure that the cancer was not in her lymphatic system...all doctor language that screams loud and clear to me.
She then started seeing a counselor and finally scheduled her surgery with the doctor that they were second guessing.
At the end of the episode it shows *Janet is sitting on her bed and calls her husband over. She says, "I'm scared" and his instant reaction was, "Oh hon, it's okay to be scared" and she sternly replies
"No, stop.
I need you to let me be scared.
I need you to stop always telling me that it's okay and that everything is going to be alright because right now, I don't feel like it is going to be alright. And I'm scared and you need to allow me to feel that."
I cannot express to you how much truth was said in that statement.
I have been so fortunate to have people in my life that are encouraging me to feel exactly how I feel, and express that. And they allow me to do that without sugar-coating it.
Most people don't counteract my feelings with any positive remarks or saying "Well everything will be okay."
Because honestly, I am with *Janet in the sense that I don't know if everything will be okay. I am scared. I have surgery in a little over a week and there is so much unknown that makes me nervous. I have completely shoved my face in my studies in order to push my emotions to the back, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I have not balanced that with giving any space for myself to be honest with others.
I am tired and I am scared; even when I have a smile on my face.
Yes, you read that right. A TV show.
But if you know me at all, I cry about everything when it comes to movies, TV shows, and even sometimes commercials.
Tonight my TV show of choice was Parenthood. This week was episode two of the 3rd season. The premiere last week set this season to be a very emotional one.
All within the last 3 minutes of the show (with no words, but sad music) one of the main characters (who will be known as *Janet for those who watch the show and haven't seen it yet) had a doctors appointment, had a mammogram, got the results, positive for breast cancer, and then cried in her husbands arms to end the episode.
Now I bet it doesn't sound ridiculous that I was crying, right?
I remember when I very first heard the word cancer come from the doctor's mouth. My mind completely left the room and I felt like my mind was spinning, and that is how it portrayed *Janet when she found out.
So the episode I watched tonight consisted of her having appointments, scheduling surgery, meeting a fellow cancer patient, and lots of crying. Which in turn led to me crying a lot.
But the thing about this episode I really appreciated was the amount of reality that this show portrayed.
The moments in the doctor's offices, the moments waiting for treatment surrounded by people like you, the moments in which you don't know what to do but cry... Those are real, genuine emotions.
*Janet went to a doctors appointment in which she was told that she would have to be getting her Sentinel lymph nodes removed along with get a lumpectomy to make sure that the cancer was not in her lymphatic system...all doctor language that screams loud and clear to me.
She then started seeing a counselor and finally scheduled her surgery with the doctor that they were second guessing.
At the end of the episode it shows *Janet is sitting on her bed and calls her husband over. She says, "I'm scared" and his instant reaction was, "Oh hon, it's okay to be scared" and she sternly replies
"No, stop.
I need you to let me be scared.
I need you to stop always telling me that it's okay and that everything is going to be alright because right now, I don't feel like it is going to be alright. And I'm scared and you need to allow me to feel that."
I cannot express to you how much truth was said in that statement.
I have been so fortunate to have people in my life that are encouraging me to feel exactly how I feel, and express that. And they allow me to do that without sugar-coating it.
Most people don't counteract my feelings with any positive remarks or saying "Well everything will be okay."
Because honestly, I am with *Janet in the sense that I don't know if everything will be okay. I am scared. I have surgery in a little over a week and there is so much unknown that makes me nervous. I have completely shoved my face in my studies in order to push my emotions to the back, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I have not balanced that with giving any space for myself to be honest with others.
I am tired and I am scared; even when I have a smile on my face.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Unknown Road
Recurrence.
It's every cancer patient's worst nightmare.
Something that I truly believed would never be the case for me...
But as of 2 days ago, I was proved wrong.
I sit here in tears after having just torn down my paper chain countdown out of frustration. The end seemed so near. I just celebrated 4 months (partial) remission last weekend and here I am fighting once again with the unknown of it all...
Gripping tightly to His presence.
Drawing close to His nearness.
Believing that He is still good.
I think one thing that makes this just a tad bit easier is that I have been here before.
I know what it feels like to be this scared.
I know what it feels like to just want to scream.
I keep getting told over and over that I am strong, but why don't I feel that way? Why is it that I feel like I used all my strength last time around? I feel like I have been stripped of all hope.
But maybe when that hope is gone, that is the place where I can experience a hope that is greater and more present; stronger and more sure. That is the hope I need to cling to.
The hope of His love. The promise of His goodness and coming justice sustaining even in the midst of this unbelievable trial. Hoping for good outcomes does not compare to the hope of Him and His love and goodness prevailing through all outcomes.
I can only hope and pray that He is glorified in and through all of this, even when I feel distant.
I need to believe in myself, and that no matter how long the road may be, I will continue to stand because HE is so much stronger than this road.
No matter how twisted it is.
No matter how muddy it is.
No matter how dark it is.
He walked the road first, and He is with me in this.
It's every cancer patient's worst nightmare.
Something that I truly believed would never be the case for me...
But as of 2 days ago, I was proved wrong.
I sit here in tears after having just torn down my paper chain countdown out of frustration. The end seemed so near. I just celebrated 4 months (partial) remission last weekend and here I am fighting once again with the unknown of it all...
Gripping tightly to His presence.
Drawing close to His nearness.
Believing that He is still good.
I think one thing that makes this just a tad bit easier is that I have been here before.
I know what it feels like to be this scared.
I know what it feels like to just want to scream.
I keep getting told over and over that I am strong, but why don't I feel that way? Why is it that I feel like I used all my strength last time around? I feel like I have been stripped of all hope.
But maybe when that hope is gone, that is the place where I can experience a hope that is greater and more present; stronger and more sure. That is the hope I need to cling to.
The hope of His love. The promise of His goodness and coming justice sustaining even in the midst of this unbelievable trial. Hoping for good outcomes does not compare to the hope of Him and His love and goodness prevailing through all outcomes.
I can only hope and pray that He is glorified in and through all of this, even when I feel distant.
I need to believe in myself, and that no matter how long the road may be, I will continue to stand because HE is so much stronger than this road.
No matter how twisted it is.
No matter how muddy it is.
No matter how dark it is.
He walked the road first, and He is with me in this.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Making a Difference
Something that I have challenged myself to do lately is to continuously seek out opportunities to do intentional acts of kindness. I think sometimes we fail to realize how much the little things really matter.
My love language is Words of Affirmation, give and receive (although physical touch is in a close second), so to me something as simple as an encouraging text, a card, or a "you're awesome!" can brighten my whole day.
I have 2 boxes on my dresser that are full of cards that I have received over the years. One of my boxes is all of my things from my cancer journey and the other box is everything else. I think I started saving them once I got into high school.
This all started when I heard about Make-a-Difference Monday my senior year of high school. I would intentionally go to the Starbucks drive thru so that I could pay for the person behind me. This was always my favorite act of kindness because of the anonymous factor coming from both sides, but that was quite expensive. So when I stopped doing that coming into college, I feel like my acts of kindness just stopped.
I am changing that this year though. I am constantly looking for people I can bless in some way. Whether I know them really well or not, I want people know that there are people who care and willing to be of encouragement.
I have sent flowers anonymously to a friend that has been so supportive in this hard season of my life. I sent a gift card to someone who I have never met, but have been incredibly inspired by because she is going through a tough battle herself. I saw someone that I don't know but know her name, crying in the quad the other day, and sent her an anonymous card in campus mail to let her know that she is loved. Last night I was extremely exhausted, but I stay up an extra hour writing out 12 different cards to people I think are awesome.
I do these things not because I want recognition of any sort, but because I want others to know that they are valued, cared for, and loved. I do these things because I am a firm believer that even the smallest act of kindness can completely change the way someones day is going.
I am writing this post because I want to challenge you to make a difference, too.
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."
My love language is Words of Affirmation, give and receive (although physical touch is in a close second), so to me something as simple as an encouraging text, a card, or a "you're awesome!" can brighten my whole day.
I have 2 boxes on my dresser that are full of cards that I have received over the years. One of my boxes is all of my things from my cancer journey and the other box is everything else. I think I started saving them once I got into high school.
This all started when I heard about Make-a-Difference Monday my senior year of high school. I would intentionally go to the Starbucks drive thru so that I could pay for the person behind me. This was always my favorite act of kindness because of the anonymous factor coming from both sides, but that was quite expensive. So when I stopped doing that coming into college, I feel like my acts of kindness just stopped.
I am changing that this year though. I am constantly looking for people I can bless in some way. Whether I know them really well or not, I want people know that there are people who care and willing to be of encouragement.
I have sent flowers anonymously to a friend that has been so supportive in this hard season of my life. I sent a gift card to someone who I have never met, but have been incredibly inspired by because she is going through a tough battle herself. I saw someone that I don't know but know her name, crying in the quad the other day, and sent her an anonymous card in campus mail to let her know that she is loved. Last night I was extremely exhausted, but I stay up an extra hour writing out 12 different cards to people I think are awesome.
I do these things not because I want recognition of any sort, but because I want others to know that they are valued, cared for, and loved. I do these things because I am a firm believer that even the smallest act of kindness can completely change the way someones day is going.
I am writing this post because I want to challenge you to make a difference, too.
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
The Invitation
It was 6:17am in the morning that my phone alarm started going off.
My first thought was how I needed to change my alarm tone. So annoying.
My next thought was processing out in my head how much time each thing I needed to do this morning would take, just in case there was a possibility that I could stay in bed for at least 10 more minutes.
Then I realized the whole time I sat there processing that out was my 10 extra minutes.
I grumpily rolled out of bed. I felt like I just fell asleep!
Luckily I showered the night before or else I would be running super late.
I got dressed, threw my hair back, and was ready to start the day.
Still feeling half asleep, I stumbled out to my car to head to work.
If only I had not laid in bed those extra 10 minutes, I could have had time to get coffee before work!
After work, I went and sat at a coffee shop. I have been all about getting some "me" time to start each day. I sat there for 2 hours reading the book Love Does by Bob Goff (if you haven't read it, here is where I am telling you that it is a must!)
Every chapter is a story within Bob's life that exemplifies how secretly incredible life can be when you allow yourself to step into the spontaneity of God's leading in your life.
You start to understand that the love of God expressed through Jesus is so much more than a warm, fuzzy feeling towards us. The love of God does so much–it saves, it restores, it renews, it hopes, it perseveres. Only because of the love of God are we able to live and love the same way.
Reading this book has challenged me to look at the small things in a whole new light; each thing has the potential for loving in a way that does something meaningful, lasting, and significant.
My newest challenge has been realizing that sometimes there are things that I don't need an invitation to.
For example, living life fully.
Maybe that is an invitation that we all turn down too often; that I turn down too often.
Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own routine that I turn down Jesus' invitation to participate. I need to start having things matter to me enough that I can just stop thinking about them, and do something about it.
What if I were to look at my annoying alarm clock every morning as an invitation? An invitation to "live a life of complete engagement, a life of whimsy, a life where love does."
Monday, September 10, 2012
Finding the Balance
I'm in a funk... Well, at least that's what it feels like.
Between being an RA, having 17 credits, working, starting my internship, and still having to make the commute to Portland for doctors appointments at least once a week... I have had a hard time finding "me" time in the crazy season of life.
I feel like I have been going through the motions, pushing any situation to the back that I fear could make me become overwhelmed or emotional.
I find it all too often that I come to the level of breakdowns because I don't start talking about things until they reach a boiling point. And it's definitely not because I don't have people that are willing to listen to me because that is far from true. I am so blessed with an abundance of people who are journeying alongside of me.
But sometimes I get this stubborn mentality that I want to try and figure things out on my own first before bringing it to the table.
Can I really call it a funk if I am doing it to myself though?
Or is there more to this whole "funk" thing than I think there is?
Sometimes I feel like I have been positive about this whole cancer thing for too long now. I have always had the attitude that if I can joke about it all the time, then I will make it through just fine.
It has been awhile since I have been real about my feelings. Maybe that is what is building up?
Cancer sucks.
It really, really does.
I don't think there are enough cuss words in the world to describe how much I hate having to go through this. And now that I am on the final stretch of treatments, I get more antsy about reaching the end.
Only 8 more weeks left.
43 days until my last radiation appointment.
I had scans this morning to see how the remaining tumor is responding to treatment, so I am (im)patiently waiting for my doctor to call me and share my results.
Is it bad that I always expect the worst?
I can't help but assume that he is going to call me with bad news; news that the cancer has spread or that surgery is probably the only option.
Now don't get me wrong... I still want to be able to laugh and/or make jokes pertaining to what I am dealing with in my life. I mean, I compared myself to Harry Potter yesterday.
Yes, you read that right... I compared myself to Harry Potter.
In the books and movies, people always refer to Voldemort as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." And in comparing myself to him, I feel like that is how people treat the word cancer. People hate the word cancer, so they avoid saying it.
People has referred to it as my "illness" or my "situation" and so many other indirect terms without actually naming it.
So yes, I am like Harry Potter. Unafraid to name my enemy. I will refer to it as cancer and not be afraid of that.
When I was first diagnosed my doctor wrote this quote down for me...
"Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it."
I just need to find a healthy balance between being positive and being real with my emotions.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Hard Reality
"What is something that a friend would know about you, but an acquaintance or someone you are just meeting wouldn't?"
We were asked to split into groups and talk about this question in class the other day as a "get-to-know-eachother" kind of question.
Everyone was really struggling to find an answer, but this question was so easy for me.
When it got to be my turn in the circle to share, I hesitated and tried to think up of something other than the answer I already had in my head.
This journey of cancer is a life experience that has the potential to speak wonders into the lives of others, but why do I cling so tightly to it? Why do I hold myself back from sharing?
What I have found though is that it all boils down to me feeling like it's so hard that no one here at Fox can REALLY relate! That no one really knows what I'm having to go through firsthand.
So I think a challenge to myself is to be able to discern when it is appropriate to share and when it's not. And also the ability to wake up everyday knowing that I am safe and loved.
And know that God is getting ready to bless me in a way that only He can.
We were asked to split into groups and talk about this question in class the other day as a "get-to-know-eachother" kind of question.
Everyone was really struggling to find an answer, but this question was so easy for me.
When it got to be my turn in the circle to share, I hesitated and tried to think up of something other than the answer I already had in my head.
My answer seemed simple to me: I have cancer.
Unless you know who I am or have heard my story, you would probably never guess that I have cancer based on my appearance.
I lost chunks of hair, which was my biggest fear, but praise the Lord that they were easily covered up. My skin was somewhat pale. But when I was going through chemo, I lost 20 pounds. That was probably the most physical attribute of mine that was visibly different.
So honestly it has been hard being at college. It is hard walking around with hundreds of people who don't know this huge thing is going on in my life. But at the same time, I never want to be labeled as "the girl who has cancer," so there is so much fear in sharing it.
It's a tricky situation because this life experience of mine has obviously deeply impacted me but I feel like it always seems to be an awkward situation when I tell someone that I am battling cancer still... Like it's "too soon" or something.
This journey of cancer is a life experience that has the potential to speak wonders into the lives of others, but why do I cling so tightly to it? Why do I hold myself back from sharing?
What I have found though is that it all boils down to me feeling like it's so hard that no one here at Fox can REALLY relate! That no one really knows what I'm having to go through firsthand.
So I think a challenge to myself is to be able to discern when it is appropriate to share and when it's not. And also the ability to wake up everyday knowing that I am safe and loved.
And know that God is getting ready to bless me in a way that only He can.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
The Kid Who Stole My Story
The title of this blog first started out as a joke with a friend, but then I began to realize that I had a lot more emotions stemming from this whole situation than I had realized.
As I had once slightly mentioned in a previous blog, I had heard about someone who lied about having cancer.
Not only did this person "have cancer", but his dad was in prison for most of his life (and so was mine).
At first I was jokingly saying, "He and I are basically twins!"
Then my friend said, "Well except for the whole lying part!"
She then came to the brilliant conclusion...
He stole your story!
Obviously, he didn't really steal it seeing how we have never actually met, but it's fun to say.
When I very first heard about this all, my first reaction was instant confusion. I mean... Why would someone lie about cancer?
Then I came to this point where I felt sorry for him because there must be some reasoning behind why this happened.
Now I just find myself constantly frustrated.
He used a serious illness as a way to benefit himself. Whether he was doing it for the sake of having attention or whether he was doing it for any other reason, I just have such a hard time comprehending it. I don't think that he meant to offend or hurt anyone, but why did he go so far with it? Or why was cancer something he wanted to add to his story?
There are people who have to actually live with cancer and deal with the absolutely shitty-ness of it all. It is not fun. All through my time doing treatments Hell on Earth is the only way that I could describe it.
I mean, yes. A lot of fruit has come from my journey with cancer. I have learned so much. But the amount of suffering and grief that it caused within my friends, family, and myself was nothing that I would ever want to go through again. There are hardships that I face day in and day out. Cancer is not a way to get "benefits."
Cancer is an unwanted battle.
I had a hard time sleeping the other night because I couldn't stop thinking about how I wish I could have met him. I don't think, by any means, that I could have flat out called him out on it, but I would like to think that I could have helped people see that things didn't match up.
I've had several conversations over the last couple of weeks about the grief, anger, sadness, etc. that this has caused around the community. My prayers go out to all of those affected because I would imagine that the emotions coming from this all are deep.
I have had a lot of crap happen throughout my short 20 years of life so far. Things that have become part of my story. A story of redemption. A story that I have come to know is beautiful with all of the trash that's happened.
It just makes me wonder if he is just not confident in how valuable his story is. His real story. Not having a father is a tough battle, and I understand that completely. That alone in itself is a journey that is hard to get through, no matter the circumstances.
I have a feeling that this Kid Who Stole My Story will be consuming a lot of my thoughts for awhile. He is in my prayers.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Untitled
I got the chance to sit outside in the sun on the quad with one of my residents yesterday and it really got my mind spinning.
After sharing her story with me, she was very persistent in wanting to know mine. I started from the beginning, explaining to her the places in which I can see God was completely woven into my life even before I knew Him.
She was amazed at my ability to tell my story with fluidity, and also with so much hope about the direction in which I see my life going.
She then said the thing I could not disagree more with about her own story.
"Gosh, my life is so boring!"
I had the instant reaction to correct her and assure her that no one's life is boring, but instead I just simply asked her what she meant by that.
She went on to explain how she wishes that she would have something "big" happen to her so she could bring glory to God through that.
I proceeded to tell her that her testimony is a story that brings glory to God in so many aspects. Being a faithful follower of Christ is not easy. She chose to take the harder path.
Then she went on to tell me about her aunt that was diagnosed with Munchowsen (spelling?) Syndrome. She told me about how her aunt would make herself sick or injured in order to get sympathy and attention. Or she would tell people that she was sick, but what started out as a little white lie has become reality to her.
Why am I hearing about this so much lately?
Why are things like serious illnesses being made up?
Treatments are hell and if back in April I were given the choice to have cancer or not (without knowing what purposeful things have happened through my battle), there is no way I would have wanted this for myself. I have spent countless hours sitting in a hospital room getting poked and prodded with various medical instruments followed by countless hours of throwing up and sleeping because my body was so weak.
Although I became instantly upset when hearing this news, my heart also broke for the person who made this up. For some reason, this person was in a place of discontentment and felt as if saying they had this "illness" would fill some kind of void. I just wish I could tell them that they are loved, and that they should always be grateful for the story they have because people would kill to trade places with them.
And not only does my heart ache for this person, but also everyone that poured their heart out to this person. I am constantly praying for all of the people affected by this little white lie that escalated into something huge.
Praying for a spirit of understanding and peace through this hard situation.
After sharing her story with me, she was very persistent in wanting to know mine. I started from the beginning, explaining to her the places in which I can see God was completely woven into my life even before I knew Him.
Each and every thing that I have gone through has shaped me in to who I am today.
They have created friendships, and destroyed some.
They have made memories, good and bad.
They have caused tremendous pain, but also overwhelming joy.
She then said the thing I could not disagree more with about her own story.
"Gosh, my life is so boring!"
I had the instant reaction to correct her and assure her that no one's life is boring, but instead I just simply asked her what she meant by that.
She went on to explain how she wishes that she would have something "big" happen to her so she could bring glory to God through that.
I proceeded to tell her that her testimony is a story that brings glory to God in so many aspects. Being a faithful follower of Christ is not easy. She chose to take the harder path.
Then she went on to tell me about her aunt that was diagnosed with Munchowsen (spelling?) Syndrome. She told me about how her aunt would make herself sick or injured in order to get sympathy and attention. Or she would tell people that she was sick, but what started out as a little white lie has become reality to her.
Why am I hearing about this so much lately?
Why are things like serious illnesses being made up?
Treatments are hell and if back in April I were given the choice to have cancer or not (without knowing what purposeful things have happened through my battle), there is no way I would have wanted this for myself. I have spent countless hours sitting in a hospital room getting poked and prodded with various medical instruments followed by countless hours of throwing up and sleeping because my body was so weak.
Although I became instantly upset when hearing this news, my heart also broke for the person who made this up. For some reason, this person was in a place of discontentment and felt as if saying they had this "illness" would fill some kind of void. I just wish I could tell them that they are loved, and that they should always be grateful for the story they have because people would kill to trade places with them.
And not only does my heart ache for this person, but also everyone that poured their heart out to this person. I am constantly praying for all of the people affected by this little white lie that escalated into something huge.
Praying for a spirit of understanding and peace through this hard situation.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Worth
When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I felt like
my world had turned upside down. I felt like I was having a
shift in my identity.
Who am I now?
All of sudden I was having to change how I was
living in order to fit treatments in to my schedule. I had to leave school at
the end of the year to get surgery and start chemotherapy. I had to miss out on
fun things because I was so sick from treatment that I could barely leave the
bathroom. All of my conversations were suddenly always surrounding this new
thing in my life.
Was this new thing in my life, this disease, going
to define me?
Was my new identity going to be a "cancer
patient?"
Something I have learned over these past 5 months
is that I cannot let the circumstances of my life change what my identity is.
My identity is set in Christ.
I am His Beloved.
No matter what happens to me, that never
changes. Cancer should not define who I am. My past should not define who
I am. My job should not define who I am.
I am a person of worth.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Perpetual Sensitivity
Think about a time when something happened, and then you started seeing it happen everywhere.
Like when you read a book by a new author, but then you start seeing their name everywhere because you recognize it. Or when you buy a new car, and then start realizing that a ton of people have the same car.
Once you become sensitized to something, your mind changes the way it filters your impressions, and lets the information you are sensitized to through your filters much more often. So it seems like suddenly it is appearing all the time.
Cancer is one of those things.
You know that cancer is affecting people everywhere all the time, but you never notice it as often until it hits close to home.
Ever since I was diagnosed with cancer in April, I feel like I see it everywhere. People telling me about someone they know diagnosed, or asking for me to pray for them. Seeing it on facebook, or heading it second/third hand.
It breaks my heart.
I think about the long agonizing hours of chemo and being sick. The huge needles, constant images, and blood work. The fatigue, soreness, and what seems like never-ending treatments.
Nobody should have to go through this.
Tonight my heart is aching. I have heard of yet another friend diagnosed with cancer.
So tonight I am praying on behalf of everyone who is having to fight through this battle. Praying for those who have to actually find the inner strength to endure through the miserable treatments and praying for those who are having to sit on the sidelines with their heart-breaking wishing they could somehow take the pain away from the one they love fighting this battle.
Cancer sucks.
Cancer sucks.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Safe Place
Just a couple months ago, a friend prayed over me that I would soon enter into a "safe harbor" in my life.
I pray every morning that this would be the day that I would enter in to a year of being content. I pray that I would not have to face yet another trial pushed in my path. And sometimes... I can't find the words to say because the longing I have for a safe place leaves my heart aching.
My heart longs for a period of time where I don't have to think about my health, money, family problems, etc.
My heart longs for peace and strength.
My heart longs to know that things will be okay.
People always say, "Sometimes the wrong choices bring you to the right places." This has been true in my life. There are things that have happened to me and choices that I have made that have brought me to where I am now. And I love George Fox University.
I love the people.
I love the campus.
I love the community.
I have been back in Newberg for a couple days now and there is just something about this place that makes me feel.... alive. I have been hanging out with friends, enjoying the sunshine and coffee. Going grocery shopping and making fabulous lunch.
It's funny because these are all things that I do back home, but it doesn't feel the same.
And today something clicked...
I pray every morning that this would be the day that I would enter in to a year of being content. I pray that I would not have to face yet another trial pushed in my path. And sometimes... I can't find the words to say because the longing I have for a safe place leaves my heart aching.
My heart longs for a period of time where I don't have to think about my health, money, family problems, etc.
My heart longs for peace and strength.
My heart longs to know that things will be okay.
People always say, "Sometimes the wrong choices bring you to the right places." This has been true in my life. There are things that have happened to me and choices that I have made that have brought me to where I am now. And I love George Fox University.
I love the people.
I love the campus.
I love the community.
I have been back in Newberg for a couple days now and there is just something about this place that makes me feel.... alive. I have been hanging out with friends, enjoying the sunshine and coffee. Going grocery shopping and making fabulous lunch.
It's funny because these are all things that I do back home, but it doesn't feel the same.
And today something clicked...
Is George Fox what God has always envisioned as my safe place?
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Making a Choice
My friend showed me this quote the other day, so I decided to make it in to this little picture that is now my desktop on my computer.
After having scans yesterday, I found out that I will be having to do 16 weeks of radiation injections. So that means that I will have to be going to the doctors once a week even during school.
When I heard the news, all I could think was:
"Okay... Deep Breath....... I can do this."
Telling the doctor that I do not want to continue treatment, and deciding to give up would probably be an easy thing to do... But I am so glad that my mindset is not like that.
And honestly if I didn't have the support group that I do, my choices would probably be the completely opposite.
During this battle with cancer, it would be really easy to make it all about me. But when I was diagnosed, I think I was more worried about how it was going to affect the people around me.
I didn't want people to change how they acted around me.
I didn't want people to always be worried about me.
I just wanted to try and maintain normal relationships with my friends.
There were a couple people that I wanted to ask, "Well how are YOU dealing with all of this?"
I don't think I can even find the words to say to explain how thankful and blessed and grateful I am for the friends I have been given.
So to the friends that have been there for me through this all; encouraging me, listening to me, supporting me, and making me laugh. THANK YOU! You have all blessed my life in more ways than you probably think.
And because I have people that would be heartbroken if I chose to stop treatments for my selfish reasons of now hating hospital visits and just wanting to stop the pain....
I am choosing to fight like hell.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
I Am a Cancer Patient.
I am a cancer patient,
a friend, a daughter, a sister, and a follower of Christ.
I have future goals and a past filled with memories.
Sometimes, I wonder who would be hurt if I was gone,
Sometimes, I am certain I will live forever.
I am a cancer patient,
a survivor, an inspiration, and an advocate.
I have endured medical procedures and treatments
and felt exposed to total strangers in whose hands I lay my future.
I have moments of complete confusion
and moments of total understanding,
nights of restless sleep and days of doubt and rage.
I am a cancer patient,
skilled at disguising my illness with laughs and smiles,
but do not be fooled—I am afraid.
I am a cancer patient,
viewed with pity and awe and a certain misunderstanding
by those who have not shared my journey.
I enjoy peaceful moments amidst the uncertainty.
I am a cancer patient,
a product of challenge.
I am thankful for the side effects that have helped me become
a better friend, daughter, sister, and follower of Christ.
I am blessed to live life large.
a friend, a daughter, a sister, and a follower of Christ.
I have future goals and a past filled with memories.
Sometimes, I wonder who would be hurt if I was gone,
Sometimes, I am certain I will live forever.
I am a cancer patient,
a survivor, an inspiration, and an advocate.
I have endured medical procedures and treatments
and felt exposed to total strangers in whose hands I lay my future.
I have moments of complete confusion
and moments of total understanding,
nights of restless sleep and days of doubt and rage.
I am a cancer patient,
skilled at disguising my illness with laughs and smiles,
but do not be fooled—I am afraid.
I am a cancer patient,
viewed with pity and awe and a certain misunderstanding
by those who have not shared my journey.
I enjoy peaceful moments amidst the uncertainty.
I am a cancer patient,
a product of challenge.
I am thankful for the side effects that have helped me become
a better friend, daughter, sister, and follower of Christ.
I am blessed to live life large.
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