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...

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

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:

Part III: Walk with me...

Going through the chemotherapy treatments provided me with more downtime than I have ever experienced in my life. Prior to cancer, I was always running full speed ahead. In fact, I thrive in that environment. I find peace when I can control certain aspects of my life. I usually plan my schedule so that I can maximize my time; whether it be a weekend day or the hours between getting off work and my head hitting the pillow.

This past January I was able to take a hard look at my life. What were my priorities?  How was I allotting my time to be spent? If I had an extra few hours unplanned in my day, what did I decide to fill it with?

It seems all my life, my time with my God has been a bit like a river. There are eb and flow moments where the rhythm feels natural.  And then there are moments where I feel like the river is rushing so fast I am barely keeping up. Other times I feel like the water is dried up or I am suck in an eddie with lackluster purpose. Shifting between these phases usually has more to do with my schedule and priorities. When less of me is demanded, I find it easier to devote that time to God. When more is demanded of me, it falls by the wayside. Never entirely, but enough to feel noticeable.

This is what I know to be true. The times in my life where I have felt the call, "walk with me" and obeyed, are among the most rich.

This past winter I was at this crossroads where I felt like God was calling me to walk with Him. No excuses. Simply asking me to put my faith in Him and trust that He had the entire situation in control. Talk about humbling and terrifying at the same time. I felt the pull to know who God is, understand his character more. The passage I have studied that reveals God's character (straight from his own mouth) is in Exodus 34:6-7. God is compassionate, gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, loving and forgiving and just. This is what I needed to know. Who is my God? What defines his character? How does knowing his character influence my own character?

And so I walked with my God. Dug in and learned more about my character. Learned more about what it meant to be me; my truest self. And God was faithful; he walked with me through it all.

Part II: Silence
Part I: Pull Over

"Crossroads"... my house in Portland

Part II: Silence

What does one do when time stands still? The silence of the moment is deafening. The high pitched ringing in my ears was so real. Everything around me in that moment had stopped. Life hanging in the balance. And with every move made, an accompanying fear of shifting the balance in the wrong direction.

"Walk with me". A sweet command echoed in the silence.

As the days went by and tests were completed and the diagnosis had been made, I was forced to stop and listen. I remember one day specifically, looking into the mirror right after I shaved my head and knowing I was going to be alright, but it was going to take some time.

Time. It's a funny thing. You come to believe time is yours to own; to do with it as you wish. But in reality, the clock is ticking on everyone. Time is but a gift we have been given and what we choose to do with it determines a lot of things. In the mirror, in that moment, I did not want this process to take time. I wanted a quick fix so that I could return to my life. But looking in the mirror, with my hair falling out and my eyes sinking, I knew I needed to listen.

"Walk with me. Trust in me"

I dont want to walk with you! I dont want to walk at all. What I want is my life to be exactly how it used to be. Trusting is not really my strong suit, especially putting all my trust in something I cant see or touch. But in the silence, I hear it loud and clear:

"The road will be here when we are ready to get back on it. But for now, we are going to stay right here and work some things out. Things are going to be different for a while and you're going to learn to trust me. To learn on me, and at times, allowing me to do the walking for you. I need you to be still and listen. I need you to embrace the silence that is all around us. I need you to trust me."

Silence was unheard of in my life. Always some noise in the background. Now I was realizing the background noise was distracting me from hearing God's voice. He was commanding me to be still and listen. Embrace the silence and walk with him.

If you missed it- Part I: Pull Over

The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still ~Exodus 14:14

Montana

Part I: Pull Over

I have been asked a lot lately, "what perspective did you gain from going through all of this?" and though it is an appropriate question for inquiring minds, it is not a 5 minute or even 20 minute answer. For those of you who have been following me throughout the journey, you've heard me talk about some of the many facets to this question. Likely in bits and pieces at coffee shops, my living room couch or over a meal. My goal in the next couple of weeks is to write out what I have been learning about humanity. Spell out some of what God is doing in my life. To identify, in a coherent manner, what aspects of going through the circus to beat this terrible disease can be seen as good; the ultimate sanctifying good. When a person goes through a life/death situation, there is a inevitable pull to be introspective at times. Which is good. At least it can be good. And in this case I truly believe it was good.

What do bad things happen to good people? Age old question I assume. Ironically it wasnt really a question I asked through this whole process. And I think that has everything to do with my world view.

I have been likening my experience to an analogy of driving down a road. The road, in this case, is life. The car would be the space in which I exist on the road (life). If we are going to be honest, the last twenty eight years of my life have been fairly blessed. By situations, circumstances, people (friends, family, the like), career and anything else you want to throw in there. Every curveball or challenge that has been thrown my way, I have sought to be a better person, a more empathetic adult and hopefully contribute to society in a more productive manner. Each situation seemingly preparing me for the next. The road has been relatively uncomplicated; with anticipated mountains and valleys, bends and curves.

There I was, driving my car down the road of life when a warning sign came on in my car causing me to pull over. There I sat, waiting for the next move. Get back on the road continuing as things were? But my car was at a dead stop. And that's when I felt an encouraging voice say "Dont be afraid. We are going to hang out here for a while, you and me. It's been a while since I have had your full attention. Dont worry, this is not a forever thing- soon enough you will be back on that road again". The tone of voice was gentle.  As if saying, "we have some catching up to do".

My immediate thoughts were, "I dont have time for this. I am really busy. It is Christmas and my family is here. I have to work several times between now and the new year. People are counting on me... Did I mention, I really dont have time for this"

And thats where the story begins. Me and my God sitting in the front seat of my car, watching other cars pass by as if nothing was out of the ordinary. It soon became apparent there had been many attempts to get my attention. And though this was drastic, it soon become obvious it was both temporary and necessary.

Memories

I have been thinking a lot about memories lately. At the beginning of the year I decided I would start a new instagram account to document 1 picture per day in the year of 2014. It has occurred to me several times that if there is not a written account of what happened or a picture, the likelihood that I will remember what happened decreases. So far, 2014 has been dominated by cancer and cancer-like things (tests, hospital stays, surgery, chemo, etc). But I truly believe the second half of the year will be filled with new memories. Memories of activities that resemble my "old" life. And that I am very much looking forward to...

Recently I have found myself watching my screensaver on my computer for hours (it cycles through my iPhotos). I love looking at places I have visited, friends I have met in several locations across this country, memories from graduate school and college. There are so many times I find myself laughing at a memory because I completely forgot about it until I saw the image. And I realized something else; I am completely blessed by this life.

I truly have the best family. A family that is 100% available for any need. I have the best friends. Friends from all walks of this life that have passed through, some even staying a while. I have gotten to see much of this vast country because of trips to see these lovely friends. I have seen quite a few other countries; making memories with loved ones in each. I have had opportunities to attend concerts, sporting events, and festivals.

I say all of this as an opportunity for perspective. I know lately my life has completely been dominated by dealing with this medical battle. I also know it wont always be like this. I know there will come a time where I can look back and talk about this part of my story. Remember it, give it the respect it deserves and move on. It is not my identity. At some point in the near future I will be able to say, I am a survivor.

I decided to include some pictures from this last weekend with my friends. It was incredibly special that they took time from their busy lives to come out and visit. I have been so supported through this whole journey by so many. Thank you all!

Fears

I am in the thick of the Divergent series (please dont judge, but my little chemo brain cannot handle the other books on my "to read" list) and a common thread throughout the first book is facing your fears. Everyone has fears of a variety of magnitudes. So while reading this book, I kept wondering what my own personal fears are and how do they play out in my life day to day?

My Fears:

• Death; my own personal death or those close to me
• Injury that would prevent me from working and I would have to depend on others
• "the unknown"
• Making a wrong decision that has large implications on my life
• Failure of any magnitude 
• Not saving enough money now for later and having to rely on others
• Snakes, clowns, feet, bugs that bite humans, etc

Fears are so interesting to me. Some of them are completely irrational and I am fully aware of that on a cognitive level, for example: clowns, snakes, feet, etc. But then there are the BIG fears, the kind that start with a capital "F". Those are the fears that "disrupt" life as we know it. I used to think cancer would be atop that list. It still might be. I am unsure.

Stepping up to face a fear is scary. Terrifying really. Not something we volunteer for on a regular basis. Facing fears requires bravery and strength. But if not pushed, why would one face a fear? My biggest fear I am facing right now is death; or at least the idea of death. It exists all around us, sometimes more intimately than others.

The thing is, in this broken world, we were not made to live forever. We are completely 100% affected by our environment, decisions we make socially and things that happen to us. Facing the idea of death is scary because we have our own specific plan for how this life is supposed to go. Death any earlier than 87 seems unnatural.

I was told once that the phrase "do not be afraid" is written 365 times in the Bible. Coincident (or not) that our modern calendar has 365 days in it. A daily reminder to not live in fear. I respect fear wholeheartedly. Fears obviously exist for a reason. But I would argue, at least in my life, when I give fear a little too much respect or space in my thoughts, it becomes disproportionate to the rest of my life. It starts to dominate my thoughts and produces anxiety.

So I am stepping out in saying I am going to give my fears the respect they deserve and evaluate each one. Because each of them produces an emotional response of either a past memory or a conceived situation produced by my brain. Some of them have driven me to do productive things in my life (which I would argue is ultimately good). Others have left me paralyzed thinking of the possibility of them. It would be interesting to me to know what others fear. And if others find they have a mix of rational and irrational fears. Something to ponder....

Accepting help

This whole cancer situation has taught me a lot about how to accept help. If you know me, you know that I am highly independent. My parents would probably say I was born that way. I dont remember a lot about my early childhood, but what I do remember is I possessed a strong-will from the start; or at least I have been told that ;)

That strong-will has gotten me many places. I firmly believe it helped propel me forward in academics. It athletics. In fighting for my place in this crazy upturned world. I know there is this innate sense of self-worth interwoven with accomplishments as a result of being independent. A drive that has always alluded to there being something more to achieve, earn and work towards.

I guess what I am saying is this: being highly independent and driven has been an absolutely blessing when it comes to achieving things, but has been hard when needing to accept help. This happened when I went through the set backs with my knee surgeries in graduate school. And now I am faced with it again.

Turns out, this cancer situation is allowing more time to learn some life lessons. Its okay to need help. Its okay to accept help when it is offered. In fact, it is somewhat therapeutic to allow others to help you; both for them and for me.  And I am thankful for the help. I know I could not get through this without the help of many. Namely, my mom. She spent over a month in Portland helping me both physically with tasks and emotionally with support. My friends who have taken days off work to spend with me. My coworkers who have supplied meals and small gifts that warm the soul. My extended network of friends who have sent cards, letters, blankets, hats, food, etc. I could not do this without you.

The rub is the gray area of that time when I feel I dont need as much help. The times I am building back up, gaining strength and can do more for myself. Those moments are the times that are incredibly hard to allow space to receive help. I am not good at that. I want to be independent. I want to do things for myself (if I can). I want to be me. And "me" is this highly independent, self-suffiecent person who actually gets enjoyment and if I am honest, a bit of my self-worth from what I can do for myself.

So this is an area of self-development for me. I am working on accepting help where I need it, but being true to myself when I know I can do something on my own. Its a humbling place to be.