Purpose in the Pain

Nausea from treatment had been hitting me pretty hard lately, so when I got really sick the other night, it didn't really seem like a big deal.

Then I woke up the next morning with a weirdly tight chest and it hurt to take deep breaths, but last time this happened it was because I had a cold (which I have now too), and I was throwing up a lot. So I just figured it was because of that.

Side note: If you ever have a hard time breathing, don't be stubborn or assume anything like me. Go to the doctors.

Then the following morning when I took a shower and that made it harder to breath and I got dizzy, I knew something was not right.

When I got to ER they instantly started poking and prodding me with needles and swabs. Then what seemed like hours later, I was left waiting for results with an IV and an oxygen breathing thing.

The results came back as an infection that had spread into my lungs.
*switch antibiotics hooked up to iv*
*shot in the arm*

Okay. Not Bad. Treatable.

Then they found some blood clotting in my lungs.
*insert another IV here*
*two shots in the stomach*

Again. Not too bad. Treatable. 

I sat there for the next 8 hours with two IVs and my oxygen breathing thing, unable to fully lay down because that hurt my chest and made it hard to breath.

Then around 7pm the doctors decided that I was going to be on a 2 hour wait and watch period before I could go home so they could make sure that my breathing was better, and that my temperature was back to normal.

All of a sudden I was getting really hot. My chest started to have sharp pains. It was hard to breath. The machine hooked up to me started beeping.

Then all I remember next was waking up several hours later.

My doctors explained that I went into septic shock because my picc line was infected and it had gotten into my bloodstream (something I have had my doctors test before because I had a visible rash, but they came back negative).

Then they began to explain how most people with this bad of an infection do not make it out of septic shock without any worse problems, or even alive.

"You are quite the fighter, young missy" is what they kept saying to me over and over.

I walk away from this experience not prideful of my strength, but humbled by the knowledge that the Lord is not done with me yet.

With all of the pain and nausea from treatments, I am reminded daily that this is not our Home, and have even thought about the fact that Home could be so accessible to me if I ever decided to discontinue treatments (just so you know: I have never intended to stop treatments, and would never do that).

When I see Christ in Heaven, I want to cross the finish line with no short cuts. Standing fully unashamed, knowing that I have endured all for His name sake.

I have been doing a study with a friend through Philippians, and for Paul, departing this life was easier and preferable. He knew that death was not defeat, but rather a graduation to glory. But he resolved that God would keep him aline since it was better for the church's sake that he live on to help them grow.

I believe that my life, even a life with pain that leaves me tears and scary incidents that leave me unconscious, can bring glory to God and growth to His bride.

I have a purpose. A great one. And in sickness and in health, I can live that purpose out:

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself." Luke 10:27.

Scattered Emotions

Treatment this time around has been extremely rough, leaving me with an intolerable amount of throbbing pain throughout my whole body most days.

I have been pretty high functioning but the sad reality is that it is only because the pain is becoming normal for me. Sometimes I even forget how much I am hurting until someone asks me about it, which is not necessarily a good thing.

I get so used to the pain throughout the day, my body tends to completely shut down at night; which means I have many nights spent in tears because of agonizing pain.

My mentality this time around is so different because pain really gets to my head. My last treatments left me nauseated, which meant I couldn't eat a whole lot. These treatments leave me feeling trapped and helpless. I would take nausea over pain any day.

Something else I have realized this time around is that I, the patient, am just the tip of the iceberg. I have become more aware of the many people my diagnosis has affected in ways big and small. Not only is everyone around me facing the impact of the disease and the disruption of daily life, but also the strain of emotional support.

Cancer really takes its toll, and it's cumulative. It's not just a giant shock on the day of diagnosis, but a daily fight against the side effects of treatment and emotional stability. There are some days that are easier than others, but then there are days when I want nothing more than to just give up.

I don't mean for this to be another blog about how hard this has been, but this is the part of the storm that I am in. Yes, it helps to have honest conversation with people. Yes, it helps to laugh. Yes, it helps to be distracted. But at the end of the day, I still have cancer.

So many people ask if there is anything they can do for me or if there is anything I need and I wish more than anything I had an answer. I am just as clueless as you all as to what will help me.

I got an assignment the other day that had the question, "If you were to die within the next year, what would your obituary say?

This really threw me into an emotional roller coaster because I had already been thinking about the idea of cancer and dying (in a completely non-morbid sense).

What if cancer is what eventually ends up killing me? 

This thought has crossed my mind more than it should, and what a scary thought it is. I would like to assure you that I am choosing not to live my life in fear though.

I would also like to make it clear to everyone that I am not dying, and I don't have that mindset at all. But the reality is that we aren't guaranteed anything in life, so I can only hope and pray that remission is in my near future.

All I can do now is continue to find strength in the roots that I have set deep in Christ, and through the people I allow to love me through this.

We can do hard things.
We can face diagnosis.
We can withstand the anxiety.  
We can manage the treatment.
We may not want to do it
But we can.

#effcancermovement2013

I just wanted to let you guys know about something that my friend, Rachel Morell, surprised me with yesterday! Sidenote: On top of doing screen-printing, she also has awesome photography businesses, Fawn and Feather and Jonathan David Photography that you should check out!!

But anyways! Yesterday as I was sitting at a coffee shop I suddenly got tagged in a facebook post saying that Rachel was selling Eff Cancer shirts, but she only had 20 so they were basically on a first come, first serve.

I don't think we realized how big of a support you guys would be on this surprise endeavor, so we decided to go widespread with it! After posting something on facebook, within a couple hours we already had about 30 more shirt orders!

So now we are officially opening up the order to anyone and are selling "Eff Cancer #suckitcancer #seriously" t-shirts for $20 each!!

Here is the design we are using!! 

And the next best thing is.... There are color options!!!!

Let me clarify the colors for you. In order starting from the top left:
Purple with white.
Maroon with white.
Pink with white.
Turquoise with white.
Salmon with turquoise.
Fuchsia with turquoise.
Lime with white.

And then the best thing after that is... We are willing to mail you shirts if you don't live here! All that we ask is that you add $5. As soon as we receive your payment, we will mail you the shirt!

All that being said, we are finalizing this next order soon-ish so if you want a shirt—let me know! 

What I need to know is the color and size that you want, and if you don't live near here, I will get you the information as to where to send the money!!

Thank you to everyone who has already supported me in this rapid moving little fundraiser, and I look forward to hearing from you!

By the way, all of the profit is going towards helping me pay for treatments/medical bills/gas to appointments, etc... So it is very much appreciated!!! :) 

A Groaning Hallelujah

People in passing ask how I'm doing. I know that most of them actually want to know, but most of them would not be ready for me to break down or only say cuss words.

So instead of trying to figure out who could... I simply say with a smile, "I am doing well. How about you?!"

But if you want me to be honest... I am not doing well.

I feel.... Unhappy. Heartbroken. Afraid.

Time and time again I question why God has allowed this to happen in my life. Why has my cancer relapsed 3 times? Why have I had to have 4 surgeries in a year? Why can't this just go away? Am I not learning what You want me to learn?

It's unfair. I don't know why I am having to continue walking this path. It doesn't make sense at all, and no amount of preaching will change that or completely ease my pain. But what I do know is that by hiding my emotions and filling my void with unhealthy avenues will only hurt me more in the long run. Not allowing myself the freedom to feel what I am feeling will only restrict the blessings that God has in store for me on this journey.

I am not saying all of this so that you will shower me with encouragement in hopes that it will pick up my spirits, and I am not saying this because the encouragement you have provided already is not working. I am saying this because I believe that prayer is powerful, and I can honestly feel it moving. I am saying this because your encouragement has already done wonders for me and that it keeps me going on most days.

I am blessed to be surrounded by the ministry of presence.

Even when I build walls to keep people out, I have people in my life that are willing to break down those walls just so that they can sit in the darkness with me. No words needed.

Sometimes I just need to talk. Cry. Laugh. Cuss. Scream. And it is all of you that have given me the space to do that.

I have had so many wise friends journeying right alongside of me, giving me words that seem like a little shot of hope and peace.

"I have come to believe that the faith part of this whole thing is believing that God is good even when it feels like that might not be true and the whole coping part of this whole process is to find joy along the way."

I have started a gratitude journal. Every day I am writing down 5-10, simple or meaningful, significant or random, things that I am thankful for. Here's a peek into some of them from the last 3 days:

• My nephew's giggles.
• A car that gets me from point A to point B.
• My turtle pillow pet.
• Honest conversations with friends.
• A comfortable pillow and blanket to curl up on the couch with to end the day.
• Honeycrisp apples. 
• Sitting on the floor with a sweet friend in a safe place.
• Laughter.

I am choosing to find joy in the small things, but also allowing myself the freedom to lament. I want to be honest with God and I want to be honest with all of you.

"Lamentation when we are hurting...this is how we grieve...this is how we feel. We bleed, we cry, we hurt, we seek—bewildered, we grit our teeth...and we end in a groaning Hallelujah."

So here I am. Grieving, crying, hurting, but seeking His truth with a groaning Hallelujah.

Praising God, for He does not silence our limit.

A Fearful Milestone

Finding out on November 15th that I was in complete remission was probably one of the most exhilarating days of my life. 

In exactly a week I will be able to declare that I am in 4 months remission! I wake up every morning and the first thing I do is thank God for this new breath of life that He has given me. I have been given an understanding of God's constancy through life's inconsistency that helps me appreciate and utilize the time He does give me.

I have spent most of the last year literally fighting for my life, and I realize more than ever that I cannot take any moment for granted. 

Every blessing.

Every hardship.

Every emotion.

They are all real, and they are all life-giving. So if this is true, I cannot dispel this huge knot in my stomach that happens every time I think about being 4 months in remission.

This upcoming appointment has left me with bounds of anxiety; anxiety that has even brought me to tears at times.

On September 19th, four days after celebrating my 4 month remission mark the first time, I had my scans that informed me that the cancer had returned.

I am not saying that I think these scans are going to be bad, but there is so much fear that comes with this milestone. 

I don't think I have the right words to say other than I am putting all of my anxiety, fears, and emotions into the hands of a God that I know loves me.