Survivor Writing Class

This past fall, I participated in a writing class that was put on by the AYA (adolescence and young adult) organization of Knight Cancer Institute at OHSU. Obviously, I have a passion for writing and wrote as a way to catalog my thoughts as I went through my own cancer journey. The class was fantastic and just a really cool way to write about different aspects of my experience. I have been more and more encouraged lately to share my story on a larger platform; I just don't quite know what that will be or what it will look like. Stay tuned.

Anyway, I thought it might be cool to include some of my writings in this space. The class is set up in a way that a prompt is delivered and we all have a set amount of time to write. It could be 7-8 minutes or as long as 20 minutes. As soon as the time is up, we go around the room and read what we have written. At first, I was incredibly intimidated by the format because I was not used to reading "unedited" work. Actually, I haven't really read much of what I have written out loud to anyone. It has been really cool to be a part of this group of survivors (mostly women) and hear their experience and how it is similar and differs from my own.

It hard to believe it's been a year. One crazy year since my invincibility was challenged.  And here I am, still standing. I am crazy blessed by God's faithfulness this past year and look forward to the road I am privileged to keep walking. I am trying to dream big for this upcoming year and per usual find a balance of trying to control situations and allow them to unfold naturally. This journey is just beginning.

Sneak peak of what is to come with including pieces created in the writing class:

(originally written Sept 25th, 2014)

Thirty Minutes

From the very beginning, I set a goal. Walk at least 30 minutes every day, regardless of how crappy I felt. Most days this was no problem. But I remember this one day in particular where the struggle was real. My mom had left to run much needed errands and my house was empty. The walk was up to me. I felt nauseous and weak, questioning all I had learned about the benefits of exercise for oncology patients. "I could break it up" I told myself, "maybe a couple 10 minute jaunts?" As I bundled up to brave the winter chill (you know, that deep bone cold you get in the pacific northwest), I questioned myself again.

 "Go half the distance you want to go total", I told myself.

I locked the door and headed down my walk way. Goal: end of my block. The spitting of rain it my face as I rounded the corner. "Ugh- round four of chemo is a bitch", I muttered aloud under my breath. My legs are heavy and not listening to me. Left foot, right foot. my hips ache and my back is screaming. "Just make it to the end of this block and you can go back". I know it will make me feel better, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I round the corner and keep walking. I know I am my own worst enemy here. I picture my warm blanket draped over the arm of my couch awaiting my return.

"Just a few blocks more. Make it to the pink house and you can turn back", I whisper under my breath. This is fatigue. Okay- I see you for what you are and I surrender.

I keep walking wishing I had called someone to follow me, to document this incredible feat. That's silly, who cares. Just keep going.  The only thing standing in my way is one more block. it is unreal and maybe its just my mind playing tricks on me, but I start feeling better. I think I could even take one more trip around the block. As I turn the corner, I see Jenn. She has come to check on me and asks if I need a walking partner.

"Yes! And can you please take a picture for me?"
"Sure why?"
"I need to document the time I listened to the physical therapist inside of me rather than the cancer patient. As much as I didn't want to walk today, I needed it. Needed it today more than any other".

So I struck my pose and we kept walking. Kept walking until my timer reached 30 minutes.

Hope

There is hope. Always. Even in the darkest of times...

2014 was quite the year for me. Most of you know the story; the chapter that was written from Christmas day 2013 until November 20th 2014. I am aware it is arbitrary to put dates on such a chapter, but for now, those seem most appropriate. The change in me over those 11 months cannot be quantified. In fact, it would be accurate to say that right now, I am closer to the person I have always wanted to be, than ever before. And for that, I am truly thankful.

While in Montana over the Christmas holiday, I got a tattoo that I felt represented this past year and the chapter in my life it is meant to represent. It is one single word. Hope. Nothing fancy, no mysterious message for people to surmise its meaning. The "p" is in the shape of a teal cancer ribbon- nodding respect to ovarian cancer. It is located halfway up my forearm in an elegant font that represents the beautiful journey that ultimately saved my life. It is simple. Designed to stand alone. It in no way represents all of me, but daily reminds me that my life is meant for so much more than I ever imagined it could be.

Last year, January was full of fear. Fear of the unknown. And this year, for me, January represents hope for the future. God is faithful and never once did I consider my own mortality. Never asked the question of "why me?". Never once considered my life to be hanging in the balances. And this is not because I am superwoman or have some sort of perfect perspective on life, but truly because I believe in a God that is much bigger than death. And I put hope in a future that boasts of blessing rather than the "junk" this world offers. 

A year later, I am starting to pick up the pieces of my life that was discarded over the past year. Some of those things are not worth revisiting. Others deserve thought and contemplation, but still remain to be discarded. It is amazing how being stripped of all things, can bring spotlight to the things that matter most. I am thankful for many things, believe me, the list is long. But truly, I am most thankful for a renewed hope in what this life can be...

Lots of awareness going on around here!

Morrison Bridge lit up in Teal for Ovarian Cancer Awareness

October is officially Breast Cancer Awareness month. This year, I feel like my eyes are a little more open to all the "pink" thats floating around the media. I have always loved that the NFL wears pink throughout the month of October. I also love seeing people display ribbons or bracelets denoting themselves as survivors.

A close friend recently asked me how I am doing with things lately. I told her its been interesting...

To be part of a group of "survivors" is unique. On the one hand, it is incredible to be alive. The women (and men) I have met that belong to this group are amazing. Each story is moving. The depth of soul-searching these people have done along their journey is evident in their persona. I am thankful to know these people and hope to continue to get to know more of them.

On the other hand, its incredibly frustrating to be a part of a group that I did not choose. Most sub-groups of people that one belongs to is because they have chosen to be a part of them... college friends, coworkers, etc. I never intended to have this be a part of my story. But it is and now it is on me to decide what to do with it.

I have been blessed beyond imaginable. I guess that is part of serving a God that longs to bless his people. When I see a women in public who is bold enough to display her beautiful bald head, I find I just want to go over to her and hug her. I want to her to know she is brave. No matter where one is in their cancer journey, it is important to know they are loved and supported.

Here is my hope for these "awareness months".  Not only do I hope money is raised to find a cure for some of these horrible diseases, but also that more and more survivors' stories would be told. If you know someone who has survived cancer, encourage them to tell their story. There is power in knowing the difficulties of one's life.

Happy Sunday!

Wigless!!!!

Today was the day! The day I took off my wig at work. I have been wanting to do this for a while, but for whatever reason, have had a hard time with it. Maybe it's partly because I am uncomfortable with short hair because it's new and so drastically different. That being said, so was being bald ;) 

The other part of it was knowing I would have to endure "talk" about my hair. Possibly, even answer the question of why I cut my hair. I have never wanted it to be about me at work. Patients need to know their needs are being met and that I am not distracted by other things. 

I am sure there is also a part of me that has to re-work through the question of beauty and perception of beauty. If I have spent my whole life only seeing myself with long hair, then it's fair to say I am looking at an unfamiliar face with familiar features. I felt similarly when I embraced being bald. 

As I was leaving today, I reflected upon the day. Everyone was overly generous in how sweet their comments were. My colleagues were especially thoughtful; mentioning throughout the day how great the style looks and how it brings out the features of my face. A few patients made kind comments, which helped make me begin to feel comfortable in my own skin again. Strange to think this is another thing I have to process through as I continue along the journey.  And so, I leave you with these song lyrics by Avicli

"All this time I was finding myself

And I didn't know I was lost...

 Life's a game made for everyone and love is the prize!"

Life currently!

Wine tasting evening with Jenn

Whew! Its September already! I was working on my One A Day journal the other night and I am shocked with how fast the last few weeks have gone. Someone recently told me "when time seems to fly by it means you're truly living your life". I would like to think that is true these days.

Speaking of these days, I thought it was time for an update. I have been doing well overall! I am building up more and more energy reserve and feel like life is getting back to normal. Work is going well. I have a student that is with me fore another 6 weeks (3 weeks down) and we are starting to really get the hang of the dance that exists between clinical instructor and student. Its equal parts exciting and terrifying for me to both relinquish the control of practice and exciting to teach someone so willing to learn. I am learning a lot right along side of her and hope she continues to teach me as much as I am teaching her.

I went to my doctor today and things continue to look good! Blood counts are normal, symptoms continue to dissipate and medications are being discontinued. I will follow-up with him every two months with blood draws and have office visits every four months. He said I could get my port out whenever I would like (YAY!) and most importantly, continue living my life. He is onboard with me seeing a natropathic doctor for my stomach pain, neuropathy and dietary needs. I am thinking about starting acupuncture soon and really hope it is helpful. The list of current symptoms continues to get smaller and for that I am truly grateful.

Yesterday I got to go to Seattle with some friends to attend the season opener for the reigning Super Bowl Champions, SeaHawks! It was such a fun evening (including the win!!!) and I felt so luck to be in attendance. I am really hoping to get to go to more games this season... we will see. I got to see some of my favorite people at the game and got to spend the night at Kristen's. It is moments like this, I feel truly blessed!

Lately I have been talking with more women who are diagnosed with cancer and are going through a similar battle as I did. I am daily reminded how lucky I was to have caught my cancer early and how incredible my doctors and support team was through the entire journey. Often I feel like I am awaking from a bad dream; feeling groggy with the memories of what I endured. Other days it feels like it all just happened and I am ripping open an old wound. What is crazy to me, is once the chemotherapy is complete, the journey back to "normal" is just beginning. And that road is tough. Its riddled with anxiety, stress, fear, doubt and uncertainty. In my case and the majority of survivors I talk to, the road after chemotherapy is more difficulty. Support gradually fades, tasks that took a backseat begin to take priority and the nuances of daily life resume. Where there was "noise" before, soon becomes silence. And that is how this stuff typically goes. And life goes on.

I know I dont write as frequently as I did during chemo, but I will continue to use this space to process the emotions and journal the daily happenings in my life. Its been incredible to go back and read through comments people have left as well as read each post. I am thankful for this space and the liberty to be honest with the good and the difficult. Thank you all for your continued support as the journey continues.

Processing the emotional trauma of chemotherapy

Shameless selfie :)

Oh man! How is it August already? I realize I have taken a large hiatus from this corner of the internet that I call mine. That is partly because I have been trying to back on my feet and partly because I havent had a ton to write about. Things for the most part have been going well. I have my 4 month post-chemo appointment in two weeks and to be honest, I am a little nervous. Before all of this happened, I never really thought about the minor aches and pains. I have had digestive issues before, but never once did my mind jump to cancer. Now, I am afraid that each time I have some aliment that lingers longer than the average, I will think my cancer is back. 

A few weeks ago I had some abnormal abdominal pain that was nagging and wouldnt let up. I called my oncologist and he told me to come in. After several physical exams, they decided I should get scanned to rule out anything "scary". I also got my blood drawn since I was there. Long story short, everything came back negative. Blood levels are completely normal and my CTs were clean. Praise God to be healed!

But the flood of feelings sitting and waiting for scans was quite emotional.

While waiting to get my blood drawn, I sat in the chair just hoping my numbers were still low. I was just starting to feel like some small portion of my life was getting back to normal. And to be reminded, yet again, I am not in control of my health was (and is) frustrating. The smell of the saline as it penetrated my veins was suffocating. It literally made me sick to my stomach with the thought that I might not be done with this nightmare. After I gave blood, I had to go downstairs to get scanned. I was required to ingest contrast before the scans and as I waited (65 minutes), my mind raced. It was flooded with memories of sitting in the waiting room and feeling nauseated, fatigued, weak, tired and helpless. Remembering sitting for hours on end with a needle that pierced my skin, slowly dumping chemicals into my heart. Watching people come and go to visit me or other patients. The memories are crisp and fresh like they happened yesterday.

I have some work to do to process through the trauma of being a cancer survivor. Interestingly enough, a lot of my treatment, I do not remember. I truly believe it is the body's way of protecting itself. Survival mode only. Remember only what is necessary and let others take care of the rest. I am working with a counselor to process through a lot of this and its been really helpful. I grossly underestimated the impact the first four months of this year were on me. Now is the time to unpack those layers and be a whole person again. Something I am truly looking forward to again :)

Picture from when Kristen was in town a few weeks ago

Beauty

This afternoon I was walking through Barns & Noble to waste some time before meeting for dinner when someone touched my arm. I turned to look at who was on the other end of the semi-affectionate grasp and to my surprise I did not know the women. She said, "sorry to bother you, but I watched you walk in and I just have to tell you that you are beautiful and this look really works for you". I must have had the most dumbfounded look on my face because she quickly followed up with, "I am doing my best to acknowledge beauty when I see it. In a world where it is so difficult to be a woman, I think we need small reminders". She went on to tell me three years ago she went through chemotherapy for a rare blood cancer. She opened up to me in a way that was profound, intimate and altogether authentically raw. In the span of ten minutes I was moved to tears and touched so deeply by a complete stranger. 

It was a perfect reminder of how quick we are to be harsh on our outward appearance. We judge to quickly. It is impossible to know the battle a stranger is fighting and sometimes it only takes a smile to reassure someone from across the room. 

I am also reminded of how sweet honesty is. This woman was wise beyond her years and she will change lives if she continues to tell her story. It is my hope that I can be that to someone when they need it most. All it took was some courage to approach a stranger and speak honest truth. 

Did I mention she was 19 years old? 

What's your perspective on beauty and how will her story change your outward expression of it?

Freedom to live

As I enter this stage of freedom from my disease, it is so real to me that more and more people every day are being diagnosed. My heart breaks for those who receive the awful news that the pain they have been experiencing is cancer. Especially a diagnosis of ovarian cancer... "the silent killer". I am becoming more aware of how fortunate I am for surviving such a horrible disease, when many people arent so lucky. Having gone through this, I stumble across other people's stories fairly frequently; some of them end abruptly. No entries or updates past a particularly trying day. And I am left only to assume.

 

And though I am grateful for this phase of my life to be behind me, daily I am reminded of the assault on my body as random side-effects come and go. With every step I take, I am acutely aware of how strong the poison of chemotherapy was with the growing numbness in my feet. Each time I look in the mirror, my tired eyes tell the story of the battle. And yet, as more days pass from my last treatment of chemotherapy, the more freedom I feel. Freedom from disease, but also freedom from anxieties and fears I had before. 

I am forever changed. I have new scars that have stamped their unique design across my skin. It is known that scar tissue is stronger than the skin it replaced. Often, it is painful as scar tissue lays down. Breaking through scar tissue can also be painful. But some of the best healing takes place after the scar has been broken free. 

Some of the healing is slow. Physical healing takes time (I am reminded of this daily). For me, the emotional healing is just beginning. I am processing through emotions I had during chemo and in the days following. I feel blessed to have the support of my friends and family, but have decided to seek additional support in processing the past few months. I started seeing a counselor and hope to continue breaking free of past fears and anxieties with her guidance. More on that to come, I am sure. 

For now, I sit on my deck with the sun setting behind me, birds chirping in the distance and the sound of laughter coming from my neighbor's house. I am beyond grateful for the opportunity to keep living. Each morning there is a nod to God for allowing me to keep breathing. A thankful heart as I go about my day. Just as those scars remind me of the battle, my continued breathing reminds me of life. Joyous, utterly delightful life. And for that I am filled with gratitude. 

Portland International Rose Garden 

Hair growth progress

Ever since the day I found out I would lose my hair, I have been a mixed bag of emotions (read about that here). At first, I was really mad. I liked my hair. Never have I had short hair and just the thought was quite terrifying. Then, once it started falling out, I realized being completely bald was actually quite easy and saved me loads of time getting ready each morning. In America, hair is highly regarded as one of the key components of beauty. Yearly, millions of dollars is spent cutting, coloring, straightening, etc. all for what? To feel beautiful.

When I started back to work, I purchased another wig that could be worn without a hat. My mom bought me a wig early in my cancer treatments that is designed to be worn under a hat. It is so fun because it is really long and has highlights (something I have never done to my own hair). The wig I bought for work is shoulder length and looks very similar to what my natural hair looked like. The primary reason I wear a wig to work is because I can pick and chose who I tell my story to. If I go without my wig, it is very apparent I have just been through chemo, which comes with a lot of questions. I am managing anywhere from 40-60 patients on my caseload and not all of them need to know my story.

Since starting work, I have had a lot of funny moments with my wigs. The first week, I was so paranoid that it would shift significantly and my patients would notice (in my mind, I picture a child seeing someone's toupee move or fly off all together and the horror on their face). Every time I would bend forward, I would feel it move a millimeter and freak out internally. Or there were a couple of times I caught myself with having an itch and just slid my wig back and forth to get at the itch not realizing my hairline moved inches. A few times I would get on the streetcar or bus and immediately pull it off and put it in my bag not realizing people were watching the process and probably wondering "what the heck?"

The truth is, my hair is finally growing and there will be more and more times that I step out without it on. Most weekends I do not wear it. I know that I do not need to wear it to feel beautiful, but being without hair is not natural in our culture and is a red flag for additional questions. And sometimes, you want to be anonymous in a large crowd. Blend in with culture. And that is okay :)

Here is the last month of hair growth for me:

First picture taken May 6th; Last picture June 16th

And little humor for you:

Resting, an ongoing lesson for me...

Today is all about resting! In this moment, I am sitting in my chair hammock, rocking back and forth trying to figure out what to do next on this lovely 80+ degree day. My hammock is perfectly located in the front of my house, under the porch awning with options for shade and sun depending on the time of day. This weekend I spent a few hours working on maintaining my little green space and it looks fantastic (but my body is sore and I feel muscles that I long forgot about)! I feel like I am in the middle of the forrest instead of the middle of the city; another perk of my house being tucked off the street. The cool breeze that is circulating brings the fresh smell of pine and dirt. A funny combination, but perfect for transporting me back into the mountains of CO or MT.

My chair hammock is ideal for being productive on my computer or reading a book, but also stretches out to allow for a nap too :) I got it when I was in Nicaragua over 2 years ago and this was the first chance I got to put it up. I am finding more and more reasons to spend time in it :) Can you tell I am in love with the hammock?

I am still figuring out how to be content with resting. That's a funny line to write, but it really is difficult for me to slow down and rest. This weekend I spent a good deal of time reading and felt good about catching up from the week (cleaning, laundry, meal planning, etc). But there is still this very strong pull to be productive or at least be adventurous. Portland is a city that compels adventure on every corner. Literally.  In my own quant neighborhood, new restaurants, cafes, coffee shops and bars are popping up everywhere. And I want to try them all! Especially when the weather is beautiful.

This week I am supposed to be at 100% full time. I have been having a hard time adjusting to work demands, so I emailed my manager today to find out what options I have to temporarily reduce my schedule. It has been taking at least a full day (sometimes 2) to rebound from a work week, so I seems important to not return to full time just yet. I think if I could make it through July with a reduced schedule, I would be good to go. Praying it is possible, because that would make a world of a difference.

Here are some highlights from the weekend!

Home

World Cup, Jersey Boys and flowers