New Year....FINALLY! (H&P#33)

So.....2018 has come in fighting.

My first treatment of the year was scheduled for January 9, but my new insurance made that impossible.  My first treatment was then scheduled for January 16, but the weather shut down the state of Texas.  Today, I finally got in.

Things have a weird way of working out, though.  As I sit in the chair, I can't help thinking that FIVE YEARS AGO, (tomorrow), I sat in another chair, hearing the words,

"You have cancer,"

the words that would change life as I knew it.


At the time, five years down the road seemed different than it is now.  Back then, I thought I would be celebrating much more, celebrating that I'd made it to the first big milestone, that cancer wouldn't be darkening my door again.

No.  Five years doesn't feel like what I thought it would.


Don't get me wrong.  I am BEYOND grateful to be here, healthy, making memories with my family and friends.  I am blessed with amazing health care professionals who truly do care.  But, somedays I feel like I was promised something I never got.

Five years ago, I was told that "this is going to be the worst year of your life, but you're strong, and you'll make it, and you'll be able to put cancer behind you."  It was the worst year of my life, and I am strong.  That part is true.  However, what I thought 'making it' and 'putting cancer behind me' would look like didn't turn out exactly as planned.  It IS five years later, I'm still here, and we are still keepin' on keepin' on.

In the spirit of thriving, I'm striving to focus on JOY this year.  I've found it challenging to be joyful when dealing with the difficulties of coordinating new health insurance for the year.  I've also had the unpleasantness of dealing with ANOTHER car accident and being verbally abused by my fellow man....a real winner of a fellow man.  I've had to practice what I preach about telling the truth and claiming responsibility for your actions, turning the other cheek, among other things.

All that not-fun stuff tends to try to get in the way of joy.  It's also not easy to push the unknowns of cancer to the side and seek joy despite the challenges.  However, I did not battle through the pains and heartache of the last five years to let the frustrations of life stamp out my joy.  I am meant to have JOY.  Maybe not all day, everyday, but EVERY DAY!  I will continue to seek joy with my people, the ones who love me and allow me to love them.  I will continue to make memories of the time I've been given.  And, I will continue to recognize even the smallest miracles that come into my life.

Joy is out there, and I deserve to have it.

A Little Magic

When we tried to schedule my muga, there was nothing open all week at St. Joe's.  The Med was closed.  I really needed that test to be done before the end of this year, so it was on my 2017 deductible.  I've already reapplied for the prescription assistance program that I was on this year for next year, which means that my first dose of treatment could be covered, thus reducing the amount we have to pay out-of-pocket for our 2018 deductible.  If I'm not able to get the test done, I'm not able to take the drug, which means my deductible would end up paying for the test and not saving me money.

However, there is a magician at Dr. Fleener's office.  Jennifer was able--against all odds--to find me a time for my scan this week!  She's a miracle worker!!!

I didn't have much time to worry about it, as the boys are all so, so sick.  So sick that they slept through opening Christmas presents!

With a little magic---and a smile and a wink---I was able to convince the nurse to let us see all three boys at the same time....at the last minute.  They all have the same thing...why not just swab them all at the same time?

We were a sad story, waiting for the doctor and results.  Turns out, we have walking pneumonia, and thankfully, were able to pick up meds STAT.  The pedi mentioned that I might want to call my doctor and let her know what was going on with the boys, in case I also needed to be medicated.  By that time, the Cancer Clinic was already closed, so I had to leave a message with the answering service.

I head over to the pharmacy to wait for the boys' drugs.  Right as I pulled into the parking lot, Dr. Fleener called, having received my message.  After I explained the situation, she agreed to call in a prescription for me, also.
"What pharmacy?"
"Walgreens of Fitch."
"I'm actually SHOPPING at Walgreens on Fitch right now?"
"REALLY?!?  I'm in the parking lot!"
"Come in, and I'll walk back to the pharmacy and 'call in' a prescription for you!"


She's seriously the coolest.  How many doctors would do that?  LOVE HER.

I'm telling you.....between scheduling working out, people in our corner, and a little magic, we're just gonna make it through 2017!

Dr. Fleener, Zomeda, Zoladex

It?s the day after Christmas, and all through my house, everyone?s coughing?the sickness won?t get out. 

I?m off to the doctor, my year-end report. 

Infusion for bone, and a new 3-month shot. 

My ECHO and heart took a downturn this time,

But human error could occur-I still may be fine. 

A MUGA is ordered for a second check-

I?ve met my deductible, so what-the-heck?

Those results will compare with the ones from before to determine the treatments?less or more?

My CT results show no evidence of new disease,

But the spine?s T7 and T8 still have compressive deformities. 

MRI-no evidence of intracranial metastases,

Just some chronic white matter changes, most likely accelerated from radiation therapy. 

On this, Dr. Fleener has a low level of concern. 

The next MRI would be one from which to learn. 

As I reflect on the year and all we?ve gone through,

I?m humbled at blessings and miracles, too. 

May 2017 go down without another fight. 

Happy new year, and may cancer stay out of sight!

H&P #32

My last treatment of 2017 is in the books!  The start of this year brought cancer back, again, but we fought and prayed, and I'm still here....IN REMISSION!  My hair is growing back, and it looks like I'm going to push past that six to twelve months of expected life.  I keep waiting for reality to close in, to hear bad news again, to face the fight once more.  However, we are about to celebrate a new year...an EVEN year.  That has to be good news!

I'm entering the new year with one word:

FAITH

Merry Christmas and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

CT Scan, MRI, ECHO

After enjoying another *delicious* vanilla shake, I spent today in scans. Something about the brain was weighing heavy on me, and dr. F put in orders for STAT reports.

I was sooooooo relieved when her office called to tell me the good news that there are no Metsin my brain!!  I?m still cancer free there!!  (Still waiting on other reports.)

The CT went well, since they could access my port. The MRI was a little more rough, but I?ll take that in exchange for good news. 


It was especially worrisome, after the wreck I had late Saturday night. I was driving in rainy weather. Around a curve, my car started to skid and then locked up. I continued to slide off the road and into a ditch and some trees. Thanks to my overworked, underpaid guardian angels, I walked away without even a scratch or sore muscle. The car? Not so much. 

I sit here, kicking cancer with the kicks my dear friend, Michele, found me for mathematical power!!!  Love times infinity. ??

I just cannot give enough thanks for prayers and miracles from heaven!! 

H&P #31 + Appointment with Julie + Mourning a Loss

When I was sixteen, halfway through my junior year of high school, my family and I moved to a new house in a new neighborhood, in the same town.  By that time, my group of friends was pretty established, and I was grateful that I didn't have to change high schools, as there was only one in our city at that time.  We did, however, switch church congregations, attending one right in our neighborhood.  This gave me an opportunity to get to know and make friends with people in the youth group, especially an amazing group of girls.  I wish I would've become even closer friends with these girls, but I was busy working and traveling and left for college a little over a year later.  (This was also before social media, so it wasn't until many years later that we connected again.)

In 2013, when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I got a Facebook message from some of these women.  (It had been 15 years since I'd seen any of them, so it feels weird to call them 'girls.')  One of our mutual friends was also fighting breast cancer, and she also lived in Texas!  I reached out to this fellow survivor and was able to get some advice/answers to questions.  She was on a similar journey as mine, only further down the path than I was.  She even offered to send me the wig she never wore, it being too hot in the Texas summer for her.

We exchanged Christmas cards and kept in touch, but casually.

In 2015, when cancer returned to my bones, she reached out to me for my new address.  By the time a box came in the mail from her, I'd forgotten that she'd even asked for it.  Inside, was a book: Sadaku and the Thousand Paper Cranes, along with a box of 1,000 small paper cranes she had folded in my honor, for a miracle for me.  My entire soul was warmed by this simple, yet powerful gift.  I cried, touched by the time taken from a fellow survivor, one whose heart was kind and loving, one who knew the journey and knew that even though she couldn't do much, hopefully the little she could do was more than enough.  It was!

We kept in touch and followed each other?s progress, scans, and status.  She moved away from Texas, her health intact, and I celebrated with her on her scans with NED (no evidence of disease).  When cancer came back to my brain this year, she commiserated with me on the suckage of cancer.  When I was back in remission?again?she rejoiced, and I knew her prayers had added to the thousands of others to bring about a miracle for my family.

In September, my heart ached when I heard that cancer had come back in her bones.  I hated that she had to start another fight, but knew that cancer was up against a super woman, and told her as much.  I didn?t ask a lot of questions?What?s your treatment plan?  Will you have radiation and chemo?, etc. because she wasn't one to like attention on herself, preferring more to give to others.   I knew I couldn't do much, but did what I could:  had high hopes that she?d conquer and prayed for her and her family.

Then, mid-November, I read a post about her having a port placed, needing to dye her hair and take family pictures before she started chemo and it fell out.  I remembered the exact feeling, all too well.  I saw her post about loving Christmas cards and knew I needed to get going on our own family pictures so I could send her one.

Last night, as I was finally catching up on social media, I saw that my friend had passed away.

And I missed it.  I missed my chance to tell her how much her love and time had meant to me?how much hope it had given me for my future.  I missed sending her another Christmas card.  Between Thanksgiving prep, the boys being out of school, movies, Christmas decorating, and other activities for the week, I had missed knowing that my friend was truly sick.  I had no idea Hospice was called, no idea her time was short, no idea she was gone until after she was gone.

I was sad that I hadn?t truly reached out when her cancer returned, as she had when mine did.  I hated that I underestimated cancer, never imagining it would take her, especially so quickly.  It shocked me that she hadn?t even made it to the two weeks when her hair would fall out.  I had simply assumed that she would soon be in remission, again, just like I had.  I also realized just how amazing and miraculous my story is, how blessed I have been, how lucky I am to still be here.

I wasn't able to tell her before, but I believe life continues beyond the grave, so I'll say it to her now:


Dear Friend:
You have given me hope and strength.  Your humor and honesty on life has inspired me.  Your faith, talents, and endurance have helped drive me forward.  Thank you for pushing me on the path of this journey.  I hate that you?re no longer here to fight, but so grateful that you no longer need to suffer or feel pain.  I have faith that God has a plan.  Our plans are different, but that?s okay.  I pray for your family to have peace and be able to feel of your love and your mothering from the other side.

Love,
Your cancer sister, Mel

RIP, Natalie.  You are loved and missed.

H&P #30...HALLOWEEN!

I love Halloween!

It just so happened that my treatment fell on October 31st, so I used it as an excuse to dress up in my pink princess power suit.  The sight of me brought smiles to some, eye contact avoidance with others, and the comment, "You must be a FUN person!"







I like to think I am a pretty fun person, even when I'm not dressing up for a holiday.  I try to be positive and friendly.  I try to serve others and give back.  I've felt that it's important to stand out and stand up, using my journey through cancer to inspire hope.  This month, I lost a bit of wind from my sails, though.  I sadly found out that some people think my faith isn't inclusive to supporting all women facing a cancer battle and that my story isn't compelling enough because it's not a "happy ending," that my future is unknown.  

I felt pretty defeated after learning these opinions.  Beside my family, my biggest reason for keeping up the fight is to support and inspire others through their similar cancer journey, or though any challenge they might face.  I kept going over and over in my mind why these people couldn't or wouldn't see that.  I kept challenging these opinions, just in my own head.

 "True, I could die of cancer.  But, that doesn't mean my story isn't inspiring!  No one makes it out of this life alive.  We all have a terminal illness.  It's called 'mortality.'  The inspiring part is what you do with the time you're given and how you face the storms and learn to dance in the middle of them!  I fight with faith, perhaps not the same faith that every person does, but finding faith and hope and love in something is what the fight is all about.  Perhaps my story could inspire others to find their own faith."

I questioned if I should give up and quit putting myself out there, stop sharing my faith and hope for the future, no matter how long it may be.  The comments stung.  I took them too personally.  I wanted to fix it, to fight back and defend myself, to make them see.


Soon, I was shown that I just needed to turn the other cheek.  Trying to debate these opinions would get me no where and would sever friendships more than it would satisfy my pride.  However, I don't want anyone to ever feel that they aren't good enough, or that their story doesn't matter, the way I felt for several days this month.


In case no one has tole you:

You are loved and known.  You have a part to play in this world.  There will times when certain people don't believe in you, don't agree with your positions, or don't fully support you.  Those are people who don't quite understand.  Those people are not your tribe.  Find your tribe, and allow them to fight fiercely, right along with you.   With your warriors on your side, it's so much easier to break through the self doubt and hold on to hope.  You always have someone in your corner, so keep on keepin' on.  You are good enough!      





Still kicking cancer's butt!