Snowmen, Puddles & Sand

I woke up Monday at 4am very unsure of how my day would go.

Bloodwork. Doctor's appointment. Pack. Vacation.

We've been wanting/needing some time away and booked tickets at the last minute.

Four hours before our flight, I was talking to my doctor & getting my bloodwork results. I'm very happy and relieved to say that my liver is doing well. It's still full of cancer but things currently are appearing to be stable. My immune system still isn't what it should be but most other things are normal.

Relief is a wonderful feeling and I'm very happy that my cancer is stable.

With that news, we headed to the airport with snow flurries... then off to Seattle where the rain was steady... and finally to Maui where it is warm, sunny & wonderfully relaxing (most of the time).

So far we've learned a few things about Matias:

- he can easily (and quickly) escape the five point harness of his new stroller

- he can crawl under the airplane seats to the row behind us (fortunately it was empty for most of the flight)

- with all of the excitement of travelling and experiencing new things, he only feels that two very short naps are needed on travel day

- when he finally falls asleep (about 10 hours into our trip), he doesn't appreciate a lady moving to the empty row behind us (there were many empty rows that she could have chosen), turning on the light and loudly eating crunchy food (that was the end if his second nap)

- long hallways are great places to set our small, energetic Matias loose

- his hair turns into simply gorgeous ringlets in Maui's rain

- he is (currently) afraid of sand and the ocean... he shrieks and clings as tightly as possible... when we eventually calmed him down enough so we could sit on the beach, he wouldn't let his feet touch the sand and sat still on my lap for the longest he's ever sat anywhere

- if I could only have sand and water on the airplane, travelling would be a breeze!

Next week I'm scheduled to have surgery... so until then I'm going to enjoy the sunshine, crashing waves, and my family.

Aloha.

Hurry Up To Wait

Hurry up to wait.

When I've been on chemo, I've been eager to be done with it. Now that I'm not on chemo, I can hear the clock ticking but I don't know when the alarm will go off. It's the anticipation of when plans will change again and I'll have to restart chemo.

For now I've been going to appointments (only 2 this week and 2 next week) and just living life. It was great to simply get together with friends and go to church this weekend. Although I still tire more easily, I feel good and have more energy.

What's next in my life? A little vacation & then surgery.

Last year many things were delayed or cancelled because of my appointments, procedures & tests. This year (as much as possible), I want to schedule my appointments around my life. I want to travel a bit. A little getaway before surgery, Kosova for my sister-in-law's wedding, a family reunion in the summer... and who knows, maybe even a trip to see a dear missionary friend.

A lesson that I'm learning is to live in the present. I can waste my time dreaming up an amazing future and live so much in the future that I have none of my dreams become a reality today. I can also live in fear of the future and what may come and become paralyzed in the present. I can just as equally be suffocated by my past successes and failures.

I want to work through whatever the future will bring as it comes into my life. I will work toward healing the hurts of my past and celebrating where I've come from. I will also continue to dream (although my dreams may be for next month rather than in 10 years).

And yet I still end up at today. 

Today, I'm alive & living fully. And although I'm waiting and preparing for things to come, I want to remain fully present & engaged in my relationships and the events of today.

As you're reminded of it, would you please pray for me and my family in our present needs? With surgery, travel, and doctors' appointments, we have a lot going on. Health and speedy recoveries. Safety on roads and flights. Accepting good or bad or mixed news from doctors. And living intentionally and purposefully in the present.

The Party

I'm eating leftovers from the party, looking at all of the flowers, cards, chocolates, toy cars, bracelets and socks that were given to us. The dishes have been washed, the food has been put away and the house has been cleaned (thanks to my husband, parents, and friends).

And now I'm sitting in my living room and just sort of taking it all in.

A year ago I was devastated. I vividly remember the ladies that prayed for me the night before my breast exam, my last time breastfeeding my boy, the looks of concern and sadness on the doctors and nurses faces throughout the day of tests and procedures, the pain of the biopsies, the tears and shock while waiting for my CT, the dread of telling my family, the "I hope you feel better soon" from my nieces and nephew, the writing of emails to my friends asking them to pray, the intense pain & feelings of bewilderment...

There are also many things I don't remember. The shock of my diagnosis and the pain medication blurred some of my thoughts and numbed some of my emotions.

A year ago at this time I was sitting in a chair getting chemo for the first time... and now I'm sitting at home still reeling but with my heart in a very different place.

For weeks (probably months actually) I've been dreaming, planning, and preparing for Valentine's Day -- one year since my cancer diagnosis.

One of my favourite parts of getting ready was making a picture/backdrop behind the food table. Since the picture hanging on the wall didn't match the party's colour scheme, something had to change! :-) And since the party was about celebrating the people in my life that have loved on me this past year, I wanted that to be the focal point.

At the center of the picture is a heart made up of numerous other hearts. The little red heart represents me and all of the other hearts represent each of you. And to put identities to those hearts, I started a list of some of the many names (God, Xhevat, Matias, my parents, my sister and her family, my in-laws, etc.). As the list got longer and longer, your names were added to a growing number of people in our lives... family, friends, acquaintances & strangers. 

I cannot imagine going through this past year without your outpouring of love and support and prayers. We have felt the effects your prayers. We've eaten the meals you've prepared. We've been blessed by generous babysitters and chauffeurs. We've received your words and gifts of encouragement. We've lived, laughed, cried and loved.

Thank you.

In spite of everything that has happened I can say it's been a good year. And I can definitely say that this Valentine's Day was better than last year.

There are many overwhelming emotions swirling around in my heart today. I can easily get caught up in how overwhelming everything has been but for now, I'm going to enjoy today and smell the roses (and tulips). I will continue to celebrate the life and love that has been given to me. 

Thank you for this past year and I hope and pray for many more to come.

Family Photos by Wendy Delamont Lees rof Ciao Bella Photography

Lists

Lately I've had strange compulsions to make lists. Being organized is definitely not something that my husband would accuse me of being. I'm learning that with chemo brain, the only way for me to get even slightly organized & remember things is to write them down. I have started many lists... now all that I have to remember is to accomplish the things on the list.

Here is one of my lists.

Things To Do While NOT On Chemo

- celebrate!

- cancel some appointments & add new ones

- baseline bloodwork, CT, etc.

- resume oral medication & start a new one (by the way, to start my new med I gave myself the biggest needle I've ever given anyone... I was pretty proud of myself!)

- go for a massage

- regrow an immune system

- regrow my finger nails

- regain my strength (some days I have lots of energy and other days I just feel tired)

- next step of breast reconstruction

- see the dentist (one of my least favourite things to do)

- have a big party

- regrow my some hair (hopefully this time it will grow long enough that I'll need a real hair cut... I haven't had one of those since January of 2012; also curious as to what colour and texture it's gonna be... last time it grew in a light brown & straight)

- surgery (hopefully in March)

- travel a bit... or maybe a lot (see family, go somewhere warm, relax)

- finish reading a book

- write down the story of my life for my boy

- deal with my daily fear/anxiety of how long until chemo restarts

- love more deeply, enjoy time together, create memories, hug & kiss more (when appropriate)

- learn, trust, celebrate & live life fully today

He refused to colour on white paper and instead would only colour on his mama's list... oh well... it's a loved on list... plus he's helped me cross of many things on my list :-)

Homesick

During the night when all is dark, many of the distractions of life are quieted. It is there that the fears, struggles, doubts and disbeliefs are awakened and I am left to wrestle with them until either my mind is exhausted or my heart finds peace.

This is what was on my mind a couple nights ago.

Just after my cancer diagnosis my sister gave me a sticky note with a name and number on it. It was of a friend of hers (and young mother) who had been diagnosed with breast cancer. At the beginning of my journey, her friend had offered to be a listening ear and support to me and had given us some good resources. Earlier this month this friend found out her cancer had spread. And just a few days ago my sister let me know that her friend had passed away.

Processing the loss, my sister posted this message on Facebook:

"I had a dream once that the rapture was happening. There were trumpets and people were literally being lifted upwards. My heart was pounding in anticipation and it was by far the best dream I'd ever had! Then I woke up. Disappointed.

After hearing of a friend's passing today (leaving behind a husband and three young boys), I find myself longing for the rapture - for Heaven. My dad described it well. He was in a melancholic mood and I asked what was wrong. He said he was 'homesick for Heaven'. It took me a while to understand how you can be homesick for a place you've never been. But I get it now. I too am homesick for the Place where everything will be right. Some think there can't be a God because of cancer and pain. I think God hates the cancer and pain as much as we do. He too longs for the perfection He planned and although He has ultimate control, He is letting us try it our way a bit longer.

I am thankful for SO many things in life, but today, I'm homesick for Heaven."

My heart is aching for this family. For three boys who are going to bed and waking up in the morning without being kissed and hugged by their mom. For a husband trying to cope with losing his best friend and overwhelmed at the thoughts of the future but yet trying to hold it together for his boys. And then there are parents, family and friends who are reeling at how life changed from celebration to mourning in the blink of an eye.

And then I look at my life right now. I'm doing well and celebrating that I'm alive. And I'm aware of how fragile life is and how quickly things can change. I try and remind myself of this when I'm hugging my boy who has woken up for the fourth time in the night... when I don't feel like making lunch for my husband... when my heart has trouble focusing when listening to my friends' hearts.

Amidst the joy of knowing that I'm doing well today is the very present awareness of the grief and sorrow and loss that many around me are experiencing. It almost feels selfish to feel joy... but yet to live in mourning feels disrespectful to the the good things in my life (and the Giver). 

Why have I been given the gift of having my cancer respond to treatment? Why has my body not been affected too adversely by side effects? Why has chemo left me feeling better rather than worse? And then my mind also sometimes asks the question why did I ever have to have cancer in the first place? And why wasn't it found earlier?

I have asked each of these questions and don't believe I've received an answer to any of them. And while my mind and heart could dwell on answers I haven't received, what I do know is that I have been given much.

And when faced with life and death, I choose to be overwhelmed with God's intangible gifts of peace, faith and trust. Like my sister and dad have shared, I long for Heaven... for perfection... where illness and mourning have no place... where all that I need to do is bask in the presence of my Creator and repeatedly tell Him what He means to me.

But today I'm living in a broken world, my body is full of cancer and there is a family that is grieving the loss of their wife & mother... so until that precious day when I get to taste perfection, I desire to be fully present in and grateful for each moment of today.