Chemo #1 - Let the Healing Continue!

Dear all my friends,

I walked in the door from a perfect dinner out, carrying a pair of boxing gloves, a gift from two outrageously gracious and dynamite cancer survivors, and their two strong, compassionate and loving caregiver husbands. Because this is a fight that will be WON!

I LOVE IT!

I've gotten a postcard from a friend visiting Vietnam, that tells of their custom of breaking the rear view mirrors on a motorcycle, because you don't want to see the past that is behind you, you MOVE ON...

We had movie night for my birthday, with Mack, Tray, Corey, and T coordinating to bring in a pizza, eat popcorn and chocolate, and watch a movie on DVD (Up in the Air.)  I've gotten a stack of Johnny Depp movies in the mail (evidently Mike has a cousin who swears this brings any women out of a blue day.)

Your cards (one from Prague) and e-mails are the best. I keep them in my willow basket, and read them when I need them. I ADORE the orchids, each blossom is someone looking at me with smiles. A book of quotes (HA! Who guessed I liked quotes!) Dr. Love's Breast Book (I understand that is her real name.) An assortment of cheeses and crackers, a pillow to cuddle at chemo, a candle of fresh scent. A journal that asks you, what gave you comfort and joy today. Phone calls and visits, especially with cancer survivors. I love to see your energy and positiveness. And voice messages and texts from all friends, offering to do anything, and that you are on my side. You all are so cool!

I'm getting ready for Chemo #1 tomorrow, Tuesday, at 1:45 PM. Exercise this morning, brief staff meeting at the baseball office, lunch full of me asking two friends who know from experience all the details I wanted to hear, acupuncture, prayer for healing and thanking for healing, that which we see and that which we will see, got a pedicure, then dinner out. And drinking water, water, water...

Some thoughts follow, and if you are bored by now, just stop. That's fine, I'll never know!

Thought number 1: You know, the phrase "God doesn't ever give you more than you can handle" isn't totally correct. I think it should read, "God doesn't ever give you more than HE can handle, through you." . Makes so much more sense to me. Have to keep in close touch with Him, which is the verse He gave me in the parking lot of the Radiologist's office two months ago - Be still and know that I am GOD... Psalm 46.

Thought number 2: Mike and I thank you so much for your prayers, for me, and for him. Mike as you all know finished treatment for lymphoma the day before my biopsy. He is doing great. So while you are praying for my continued healing, could you add Mike too. Healing together, a two-for-one special!

Thought number 3: If you want some suggestions for prayer, here some are:

- thank Jesus for all his promises of healing, and that He fulfills His promises, that is just what He does

- ask Jesus to continue to heal my body completely of cancer. and Mike's too. thank Him for the healing we see and the healing we will be seeing

- that Jesus help me to be consistently concrete in believing I am healed. (I think of Hebrews' Faith is the substance of things hoped for. Help my faith increase and grow stronger. )

- ask that the chemo Tuesday scurry around and zap up every cell that shouldn't be there. As Jesus' blood has washed away all our stains (that was D's thought, I like it)

- Ask that Jesus protect the healthy cells. And the nausea be minimal if at all.

- may I see any side effect as proof I am in the process of healing

- May Jesus guide the nurses and doctors hands so all the procedures do what they should, and they make correct decisions

- May I feel God's presence as I sit getting chemo, that His loving arms will be holding me, and I will lay back and know He is totally in control and I am safe

- May Mike's and my every word and action be witnesses to the peace that passes all understanding, We will not be afraid, for through Jesus we are more than conquerors.

- That if we experience any fear, we lift it up to Jesus, and He will take it away and replace it with His presence

- May we thank Jesus in this, Praise Him in this Storm (from Casting Crowns not my phrase, but its a good one)

- May we accept joy and comfort from those around us

I am trying my hardest to stay upbeat. I do feel pretty upbeat. A little afraid, which I think is normal. If I weren't a little afraid I would think I were totally devoid of a brain. Overall, I am not feeling much, which is even better. Still numb to the dimensions of the tasks ahead. I will take it as it comes.

Thank you for your prayers.

LOVE YA, sara

Be still, and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10

Happy Birthday

My birthday.
Fifty three.
I have never minded getting older. And this year, getting older seems like a really neat thing.

Went out to dinner with friends we double-dated with in college, who live here now. Thirty three years of Scrabble and Champagne and I still love it.

I thought I knew so much then, when I was twenty, thirty, forty.
I really didn't.

I'm figuring on my seventieth birthday, I'll look back and say, wow at age fifty three I thought I knew everything.

Waiting. Waiting.  Waiting.

Life is pretty good. Pretty, pretty good!

Port is in

Port is in. More of a surgery than I thought it would be. Still nausea after surgery, but I get nauseous easily. Same hospital they did the lumpectomy in, I know the routine now.

Dr. R is the doctor we all pray that we get. She is calm, and knows what she is doing. You get the feeling that the most important thing in the world to her is that you are healed. Answers questions calmly, and then moves on to the surgery. The anesthesiologist was good too, can't remember his name. Again, exuded compassion efficiently.

I had a "really great" vein in the underside of my right arm, just above my elbow. That's where the port is, under the skin. It feeds into a thin tube that travels the vein up to my vena cava. This lets the nurse hook up my chemo into the rubber disk near my elbow (it is under the skin so they still need to punch through the skin), so the chemo doesn't ruin my vein. Lets the chemo get diluted by blood as soon as it enters my body. Good idea. Keep as much of me healthy as possible.

This location though really is bothersome. As I swing my arms, it touches the side of my body. Long sleeve shirts bother it. Just annoying. But now it is swollen and tender. I am told it will get to where I don't know it is there.

I'm waiting....

We are not Quitters

Hello all my dear, dear friends.

Someone said this ride would be a roller coaster, and it is already! Quite an adventure...

I have gained such confidence, strength and joy from each of you. The words, hugs, e-mails, lunches, cards, Words with Friends, and dinners are priceless. Just priceless.

I am just soaking in all your kindnesses. You know, so many folks we see each day have a fragile corner of their heart, which sometimes they share and sometimes they don't. We each have the opportunity to encourage and spread joy and show kindness and be a small part of their healing. So my lesson I have learned, treat everyone as precious and immortal.

 C.S. Lewis says in his book, The Weight of Glory, that there are no "ordinary people." We are all immortal, our souls will live on forever. There are things that have a time limit like nations, machines, books, art. But people, the part of us that is unseen, our souls, will never die. We are either "immortal horrors or everlasting splendors."  Makes you look at time with friends differently, doesn't it?

I just have to attach the photo of the wig. This place was FANTASTIC... Ritzy Rags on 17-92 just north of Marks St. It is where both transvestites and chemo patients, among others, go for gorgeous wigs. You don't have to curl it, cut it.... and lets face it, you never experience a  bad hair day.

Also, I have found an acupuncturist at Still Waters Healing in Maitland (thank you D and L) who is phenomenal. My left arm can be totally raised above my head now (they took out nodes in that armpit area)... so well that I could serve normally this morning playing tennis.

The medical schedule - I am getting a port put in my right arm in six days, Tuesday June 22.  Chemo starts a week later on June 29.  I have focused the past week on building up strength and endurance. Went to the dentist. Trying to exercise lots, add more fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds to my diet. And for some reason I have been cooking up a storm. Loving it.

This weekend Mike and I are going to the beach for a celebration of... well... everything.

I know I have messed up the phenomenal meal schedule B set up, and I am sorry. We didn't know chemo would be a reality. I have cut and pasted the schedule below. You can sign up on the website or just e-mail me if you can't get the website to work. These are soooo appreciated. We will add August and September once we see that the chemo is on schedule.

 That's all the news for now.

Sending hugs to you all, sara

 "whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it'" (Isaiah 30:21)

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Some Responses:

Mike to Sara

6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
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B to Sara
Hi Sara,
I just got your e-mail today. I was released from Physical Therapy this past Saturday after over two weeks in the hospital. I just can't tell you how glad I was to get out of there.

I appreciate everyone who kept me in their prayers. I definitely experienced something that was nothing short of a miracle after being transferred to rehab. The pain in my side was like someone held a red hot poker there each time I tried to sit or stand. The pain was so great it was hard not to yell out. The next day I tried to catch up on sleep just to have the Physical Therapist come in and ask me to stand to see what she had to work with. I tried to put her off, but she insisted. I was not looking forward to standing with that pain again, but worked my way to a sitting position and then a standing position. There was NO pain. I walked across the room and back twice and I can't tell you how that happened. I was scared to death that the next time I stood it would return, but I believe God was with me and stayed with me.

I believe in the power of prayer and I will keep you in my prayers each time I think of you, each day. One thing I believe about both of us - WE ARE NOT QUITTERS!! My best wishes and prayers are with you.

40 days of wandering

A day with L doing whatever I wanted - we went to the Millenia Mall, bought some short sleeved button down tops so I will be cool in the summer. It was so much fun, the time flew by, we talked and ate lunch. What a hoot.

Here’s one e-mail I just sent to a friend who's just moved:

We all need sometimes to feel sad by ourselves.

Change is never easy.

I am allowing myself five percent of the time to be sad and in the dumps and why me, the other ninety-five percent it is:  I CAN DO THIS, GOD IS THE BEST... Maybe J is having one of those days, so I pray for him to come out the other side and feel comfort of your presence and his new surroundings.

I bought myself a small white and white bracelet today. That will be my salute to all people who have something breaking their heart in a big or small way every day, which includes all of us... I am usually not drawn to things like this, but it came to me walking by the store window.

You know, you get so much support and encouragement going through breast cancer treatment, which I TRULY TRULY appreciate, but I want to tell people, everyone needs to be encouragement because everyone has something they are battling.

Off to cook dinner. Yes, trying to be healthier. THREE vegetables tonight...

Day 39 - the diagnosis

I can’t believe it has been thirty-nine days. On one hand, feels like only a few. On the other hand, those days before knowing I have cancer seem so far in the past that they were lived by a different person. Who was she?

I had a lumpectomy, and every doctor was certain certain certain there would be no nodes involved but they wanted to do the sentinel node biopsy anyway just to make sure. The sentinel node had a cancer spot, so they took out ten more nodes. Right away I am told, Do not ever let anyone take your blood pressure on the left arm, Do not ever let anyone take blood from the left arm, Do not ever let anyone put an IV in your left arm. Why? Lymphedema, which is swelling. Don't want it. okay...

The lump i HAD was small (0.9 CM) but mighty (invasive, moderately differentiated, grade 2 tumor). So I am in Stage IIA of Invasive Ductal Cell Carcinoma by all accounts.

Now, why was every doctor certain it hadn't spread? Were they being kind to me so I wouldn't worry ahead of time? I am okay with that. They still did what they needed to do to see. I'm okay with not flooding me with fear.

As for Prognostic Markers, I am E and P positive, HER normal, so I will go on hormone depleting drug after all the treatments. I will have four to six sessions of chemotherapy three weeks apart to zap any cancer cells that broke off and started a new country. And then six to seven weeks of radiation to zap anything the surgery didn’t get or that was starting in the breasts.

It seems to me like a lot of women with Stage 0 or 1 get double mastectomies. The surgeon and oncologist both agreed one hundred percent that a lumpectomy was the way to go.  I questioned them both several times. They were sure, sure sure.  But then, that was when they were certain it hadn’t spread to a lymph node. See how doubt can creep in there…. The five year cure rate has gone from ninety-eight percent to eighty-seven percent.. still good odds. I see me in the eighty-seven percent, I really do.

I know I am to be learning lessons. Or maybe just building character. I have to make sense of all this. There just has to be a reason, or at least some benefit. Because I know the next months will be tough. Give me a reason.  Some thoughts:

1. I will increase my self esteem. I am a high ego, low self worth person. Maybe that will bump up. I have a large amount of confidence in my abilities. But I see myself as not being that important, not that lovable. I just do.

2. So many people are sending me cards, calling me, doing kind things. They are so compassionate that I have breast cancer. Well, every single person in the world has something breaking their hearts right this very second. And some of us people have huge battles we face internally or externally, but you just can't put a cute tag on them. We need to be compassionate and loving with everyone. Everyone needs to know they are precious.

3. I am not superwoman, the superwoman cape is now hung up and I am NOT taking it back down.

4. My husband is an angel. He is great at keeping the atmosphere light and never making me feel like I am a burden even when he has to clean out the surgery drain junk or redo my dressing or not have any food in the refrigerator because I haven’t shopped for two weeks.

5. Life goes on without me. The baseball league goes on without my micro managing. And the house seems to be chugging along with out me running the show.

6. I can let things be NOT PERFECT and it is okay. One of my favorite quotes was by Christie Brinkley- life doesn’t have to be perfect to be perfect. That’s true.

7. Some people are so sad I have breast cancer, that I end up telling THEM it will be all right.

8. Its okay to not answer the telephone whenever it rings, if you are napping.

9. Don’t complain, don’t think you have it bad. I complained two months ago - why does this or that have to be so difficult. Well, I would love to be back there two months ago with THOSE problems..

I tried to start planning how I would get together with all my friends, weekly meetings and we will laugh and talk, etc. NO NO NO… I will get the support I need, when I need it. I just need to let it happen. I don’t need to plan everything. God will provide.

Who is there to support Mike? I remember so well how really really tough it was to be the caregiver at some moments when Mike first was diagnosed with lymphoma sixteen years ago… everyone taking care of all his needs, and I was exhausted, scared I wasn't doing enough for him, trying to keep life semi-normal for our two kids … I don’t want him to ever get that way. I want him to feel his cup is filled up and overflowing with kindness and love and support from friends. He just finished his last phototherapy for Cutaneous T-cell Lymphoma last week. So we are healing together.

I planned to write every day in this journal. Well, I’m six for thirty nine? See, I'm learning that Life doesn't have to be perfect to be perfect. Thank you Jesus!

They days just pass by. I have been throwing myself into getting everything settled in the house, with Mike's Dad and my Dad.  Want to free up time for me to focus on me this summer. Who knows how I will be feeling?

Mike and I are watching one episode of Seinfeld every night right before bed. Laughter is the best medicine. I am finding the episodes very calming. Distracting for twenty five minutes, and so funny.

The surgery, there were some angels. B who came to the hospital right after and went out and found just the sleeping garments I needed, because no one told me I would be sleeping in different stuff than normal! And J who came up the day of surgery and ate lunch with Mike and Corey. And J who joined in at the hospital and at lunch. A Godsend, as the surgery was supposed to be an hour and it was two and a half hours…

I’m pouring in the anti oxidants, fruit and veggies and supplements. Exercising every day. I will be in the best shape ever before the first chemo starts… Well, the best shape for me that is...