Longing For Health, But Thankful.

Well, we've come to the end of another year. 52 weeks of life, love, celebrations, and tears. 365 days of waking and sleeping, praying and hoping, living joyfully and struggling to make sense, all wrapped up in one 12-month package called 2013.

This last year has left me longing for good health again.

I can't wait for the day I get the call that my scans show no sign of cancer. And then on that same day getting to share the news with my loved ones. I can't wait for the happy tears, the hugs, the celebrating...

But this longing leaves me speechless and in tears for many reasons. One of the reasons being that I have come to the realization that my healing may not occur here on Earth. The realization that the call I previously talked about may be to inform my loved ones that I have gone to see Jesus.

When I look at that picture, I see all joy for me as I get to approach the gates of Heaven and give a run and jump hug into the arms of Jesus (at least that's how I picture it), but then I see a mixture of joy and sadness for those left behind.

While I continue to be more aware that cancer is what could easily take my life some day, I am also more aware that death is not the worst thing that can happen to me. It's actually quite the opposite. I mean, who wouldn't want to do a run and jump hug with Jesus?

Yet, the only thing that truly ties everything together right now is the simple statement, "I am thankful to be alive."

I woke up this morning, wiped the drool off my face, rolled over to an upright position and put my feet on the floor, and the first thing I did was thank God for another day. I thanked Him for sparing me from life-threatening hospital visits twice in the last 6 months. (#effpneumonia)

I can't help but continue to compare my experiences with Paul when he was in prison. He started longing for Jesus and the graduation to glory, yet God spared his life because it was better for the church's sake that he live and help them grow. (Philippians)

So instead of longing for Jesus, I have learned to embrace Him in the present. I have resolved that my work here is not done and I continue to face every day finding wisdom in the simple pleasures.

As I stood in the shower this morning with the hot water pressing into my bald head, I closed my eyes as the steam enveloped around me, and it made me think, "This is what it means to be alive."

I have those realizations often since having cancer. Sometimes when I am watching the rain, snow, or leaves fall outside or when I am curled up on the couch watching hours of Ellen Degeneres, I am struck by how lucky I am to be living through such moments. I am lucky that I get to feel the sun and rain on my skin and hear my friend's laughter every day.

And because of the things that God continues to press into my heart, even the moments of sitting in a chemo chair or fighting off infections in a hospital bed, are moments that I am proud to call myself a suffering servant.

Hi, My Name Is...

Haley. 22 years old. College Student. Christian. Woman. Daughter. Sister. Friend. This is who I was before my diagnosis. And, as I'm learning, this is who I still am.

9 months before first cancer diagnosis.
June 2011

Cancer does a lot to a person. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Any degree of trauma, battle, life experience... these events change and mold us. Fighting against this disease is tough. Cancer has forever changed me. And now I'm on a path to rediscovering myself amidst fighting this disease.

Today, as I was going through my typical routine and getting ready for the day, I looked in the mirror. Surgery scars. Bald head. No eyebrows. Bags under my eyes. A noticeable amount of pounds lighter. I simply asked myself, "Who are you now?"

I am still Haley.

Pre-cancer, I was athletic, determined, fun, adventurous, and care-free. I enjoyed being a college student and athlete. I loved to cook, bake, and have friends over. I exercised. I was excited for the future. I dreamt about being the first college graduate in my family, and eventually getting married and starting a family (no timeline on that one!) Cancer was the furthest thing from my mind.

In my battle against this disease, I have began to identify as a cancer patient. I have identified as a soldier in the throes of a civil war, and fighting, quite literally, for my life. And in the midst of combat, I lost sight of who I was before the war began. I don't suspect that's uncommon. As someone fighting for their life, we tend not to focus on things such as what's on the dinner menu for the week, or what movie we'll see next, let alone complex questions of self identity. Warrior. Soldier. Fighter. Survivor. That's who I am. And again, I'm learning, that's who I will always be.

I find myself pondering more and more if I am the same woman before cancer as I am now? Do I still enjoy the same things? When I look into the mirror 20 months since original diagnosis, I notice someone different. Not only am I physically different, but I, Haley, am different. I am not who I once was. I have been molded by the fire. I have been broken, reshaped, and sculpted, and have the scars to prove it. Coming to terms with this thought scared me at first. Because if i am different, who am I now then? My name is the same. My face shows similarity from before, with an added tired appearance. But do I really know me?

As of this moment, I cannot confidently say I know all of who I am. But I'm beginning to understand that's alright. Life events change us. And if we don't change with the seasons, we might get buried in the past. Evolving, changing, and progressing into the future is healthy. As I am rediscovering myself, I know for certain that my foundation remains. My soul is untouched. I am still Haley: College Student. Christian. Woman. Daughter. Sister. Friend. But because of this season of torrential downpours, I am now more than that. I am more sensitive, aware, and compassionate. I am more braver and stronger than I ever thought I could be. A new passion for sharing my story and helping others has been birthed inside of me. As I continue to battle through the fog and haze of the battlefield, I find that I still love to cook and bake. I am still determined, adventurous, and fun. I still enjoy spending time with friends.

If it weren't for this diagnosis, I would not live the way I am living today. I am living boldly and courageously. I am soaking up every moment, no matter how big or small. I value and appreciate my friends and family more than I ever had before, for they all have still faithfully stood beside me when they could have easily jumped onto the next train. My gratitude towards my One, True God is greater and far more vast than it was many, many months again. I woke up today with breath in my lungs and for that I am immensely thankful.

Though I'm sure there will be moments where I have to recheck myself and shake my own hand in introduction, I can undoubtedly count on the identity I have in Christ. He has filled me with a spirit of love, power, and wisdom. I am His daughter and He is my friend. Through Him, I can do all things. Through Him, I have hope and a future. If my identity lies in the Lord my God, I will never be lost. So during these times of rediscovery, I cling to the knowledge that I am His creation and that my identity can always be found in Him.

When His Light Shines Through

I came to a coffee shop this morning to get some homework done, yet here I am...blogging. I think it's about time that I write something on here anyways.

It has been just over a week since I found out that I need more chemotherapy than originally planned, plus adding another kind, and then hearing the news that at the end of these 16 rounds–it still might not be enough, which is where a bone marrow transplant would be in the talks again.

How do you plan for life beyond cancer when the journey just keeps getting longer and longer? How do I trust Him that this won't be the one road I walk on the rest of my life?

I feel like I am stuck in this little room with a window. This window feels like it is stopping me from planning ahead. It is stopping me from thinking that there is even a life to plan for beyond this all.

Most days, the sun is shining through the window, but many days a thick fog rolls in and blocks the sun and blocks my view of life outside of cancer.

This fog represents my days of questions and doubts.
This fog represents my pain and discomfort.
This fog represents my confusion.

The question, "Why?" is asked more throughout my day than any other question, but I need to remember His answer to that question is probably something beyond my earthly comprehension; that I can't smell the color nine.

I can't expect Him to answer...in fact I can't expect Him to do anything. I can't put my hope in any kind of answered or unanswered prayer. My hope has to be put in Jesus Christ; that He was, He is, He will always be.

My hope has to be put in the fact that the fog isn't going to last long before the sun start shining through the thick darkness. HE is going to shine through.

He is near in the shouts and sorrow and pain. His promise is still true. I have made you. I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you (Isaiah 46:4). 

So regardless of my questions and doubts. My pain and discomfort. My confusion. He is the answer. He is the hope. He is everything.

I need to grasp tight to this truth when the fog rolls in because it is a chance to know Him in the suffering. He has forever changed me, and I need to celebrate that.

Celebrate the depth the question "why?" has created in my faith.
Celebrate the times when the sun shines through the fog.
Celebrate Him and how He has never left my side and never will.

There is a life beyond the window....there is a life beyond cancer.

I Finally Miss It...

Although the ongoing joke is that #baldissexy and the list of why 'bald is better' continues to grow...it hasn't been until recently that I realized how much I miss my hair.

I mean, sure...there are SO many things that I love about not having hair. And I am completely serious about that. I don't miss my hair shedding on everything, especially my clothes. I love the extra time I get to sleep because I know my showers are quick, and I don't have to factor in the time it takes to do my hair. I find the feeling of the water pressure in the shower on my bald head to be like therapy. Plus... it is so much easier throwing on a hat!

But the thing that has most triggered my want for hair was getting ready for a wedding this last weekend. People were using curling irons all around me. Trying to figure out if they wanted to wear their hair up or down. Bobby pins, hair spray, braids, hair ties, hair dryers.

All of these things make me miss the feeling of femininity. I miss having to make the decision of curly or straight. I miss running my fingers through my hair in the shower. I miss braids and bobby pins and hair dryers.

And all of these things make me want this cancer journey to be over that much sooner. It has been almost 19 months since I was originally diagnosed, yet it feels like 5 years.

I don't even remember what it feels like to not have cancer anymore.

People ask me how I am feeling, and I almost always respond pretty good or fine. But that is because the constant nausea and extreme fatigue have become normal to me. If I am not feeling those things, I feel like something is wrong.

Healthy feels like lightyears away.

I am heading into round 8 of chemo this week, and more than anything... I wish it were my last. As of now, we have chemo planned out until December 6th (10th round), but I have scans in a couple weeks that will determine if the minimum 10 rounds is going to be enough. I pray and plead to God that it is.

And if it isn't...the only thing I can do is keep getting out of bed, keep choosing joy, and keep trusting God...

All while continuing to wake up and throw on a hat.

Cancer and College: It's hard work!

Staying in college while battling cancer is hard work.

We are only coming up on the 4th week, and I have already had many times that I felt like I was in way over my head, but then I also couldn't imagine not having work to keep my mind off things.

I am currently only taking 12 credits (four classes) and am not at a social work internship placement this semester. Which means I have 3 classes on Tu/Th and don't have classes on Mondays or Fridays, with only 1 night class on Wednesday

I do have some advice for fellow George Fox-ers though... Please don't tell me that you are jealous of my schedule. I know that you have not meant that statement in any demeaning way, but you do realize the reason my schedule is set up like that is because I have have cancer, right?

Sure, I have less classes than you.
Sure, I have less homework than you.
But I have a lot less more energy and time to do it than you.

I sit at the hospital every other Friday for anywhere from 5-10 hours doing chemotherapy, which is followed by 3-5 days of being unable to eat anything or get out of bed or off the couch.

This isn't directed at any one person because I have heard it many, many times from several different people. I know that no one's intentions are in the wrong place, but that is probably one thing I have had a hard time hearing...

I would gladly trade someone for their 16 credits, internship, and job for 12 credits and cancer. Any takers? ;)

Well now that I have that off my chest...

As you all know, we have set up our Etsy store and that has been taking off well! And most recently, we have started an EFF Cancer Movement facebook page! Now that has REALLY blown up! It has been just barely over 24 hours and we only need a little less than 150 more likes to reach a thousand!

I honestly could not be more blessed by the support of all of you in making this movement continue to spread! The money from these shirts are going straight to helping subsidize the medicals bills that I have  piling up, and has made things a lot easier for me!

I have had a lot of hard days lately with just being exhausted and wanting this all to be over. I have been battling cancer for quite some time now, and it really does start to take a toll on me emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

I had someone the other day message me asking how I can still believe in a God that gave me cancer.

I know that God is not the one who gave me cancer because the God that I know cares for me and loves me. He weeps alongside of me, and holds my hand while I walk through this.

I continue to trust in Him and refuse to worry for He is my Strength and my Song. Because He is my Strength, He empowers me to handle every task as it comes. Because He is my Song, He gives me joy as I work alongside Him.

I know that He has a vision for my life, whether that is here on this Earth or in Heaven. He wants me safe and held, and I trust that His plan for my life is much greater than I could ever imagine.

So today, as I sit here still unsure of what this journey holds for me, I put my trust in Jesus, and promise to always give Him glory. Because this story of mine is not a testament of my own strength. It is a story that testifies God's strength given to those who need it and ask.