Six Months

On April 18 of this year, I went into the emergency room. I had a slight headache which hadn't gone away in four weeks. There were lots of possible reasons for my headache: stress, hormonal changes, medications, etc. The incessant pain was irritating but totally tolerable. What changed on April 18 was that I vomited... and at the same time, my speech and leg strength were affected. These changes happened very quickly.

As you already know over the next two weeks, I was diagnosed with brain metastases and "floaters." My symptoms got worse through Easter weekend, my dosage of meds were increased and I was hospitalized. I had two CTs, an MRI, minor surgery, and five days of whole brain radiation. We discussed many things with my doctor including what I would want done if I had a seizure or my heart stopped. My doctor also told me that an average life expectancy for a diagnosis like mine was six months.

We were shocked and scared.

I came home from the hospital needing help to do everyday things for myself and take care of Matias. Being a strong(willed) person, I had a lot of difficulty accepting that my symptoms would stay the same or get worse and I struggled with accepting help. I felt cheated out of being a mom as I helplessly watched others care for and experience the joy of my son. I felt cheated out of being a wife as I couldn't support my husband or do simple chores.

We were encouraged by my healthcare team to do things while I still had my strength. We went to Kosova to see our family there and introduce our son to them. In hindsight, I went at my lowest physically and came back with a very heavy heart. It was great seeing family but I was physically and emotionally spent.

Six months. It didn't seem fair. I was jealous of the time others were spending with my boy. I wanted to do more physically but my body wouldn't agree. I felt like I was a burden to my husband and family. I had hope for the future but was really down about the present. I didn't question my faith but my heart was aching with questions.

I didn't feel comfortable with sharing my prognosis with everyone as I was simply trying to process everything going on inside of my own heart and head. I even avoided certain people because they reminded me of how quickly my six months were passing by.

August's CT scan changed many things. I had felt like I was getting stronger through the summer but I wasn't sure if it was just feeling better cause I was off steroids or if I was truly doing better. My CT showed that I had good reason to be feeling better -- 8 of my 9 metastases were gone "without a trace." My doctor and nurse were thrilled to give me this news.

I was able to truly celebrate my son's second birthday. We've had family pictures taken. I've climbed the Grind. These were all items that were ticked off my bucket list.

I started another cycle of chemo yesterday. Round three, cycle five (2 weeks on pills and 2 weeks off). And because I'm feeling strong enough, I'm going to try to take care of Matias "by myself" during the day. In a couple weeks, I'll hit (and surpass) the average lifespan of someone with my diagnosis. That is both monumental (for me) and incredibly sad (for the other half of the population that don't get to see six months).

I'll miss having my parents or sister here. I'll miss sleeping in & having dad take care of Matias. I'll miss mom's excited play with Matias and talking through my emotions. I'll miss my sister not knowing our "routines" and so I was challenged (in a good way) to do more. 

More than likely there will be a time when I'll be needing help again. Until then (as I've let my chauffeur and babysitters go home), I might be asking for help sometimes (I'm independent and have a little too much pride so this will be hard... but a good lesson for me to learn).

I guess the point of all of this entry was to help explain why I only recently shared my prognosis of six months... to let you know how well I'm doing today... and to ask for your continued prayer and support as we adjust life to my current ability & needs. Thanks.

Smiling and hurting