I promise that I'm not doing this for ratings, but this latest adventure is to be continued.
I went in for my "recall" mammogram today, and the results of that led to an ultrasound study, and the results of that led to a referral for a needle biopsy sometime next week. The radiologist tried to be reassuring, and I hope she's right. She thinks it's a benign situation, but wants to be sure.
My next challenge is to schedule the needle biopsy sometime between Tuesday's brain MRI and Wednesday's jury duty summons. It'll be an interesting week. I'm very grateful for the many prayers that have been carrying me through this twist in my story.
And speaking of prayers, my aunt's PET scan concluded that her cancer has not spread, so we are enjoying a big celebration on her behalf, and using yet another opportunity to express our love to family and friends.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
No steroids this time
Last night I gave my daughter a pep talk about getting enough sleep. Em is a night owl and an early riser and a nap avoider.
We don't share DNA, but she has nonetheless managed to carry the family insomniac torch into another generation. I got it from my mom, who got it from her mom, who probably got it from her mom. Great-Grandma Mabel's parents immigrated to Chicago from Sweden, so my theory is that we sometimes go to bed late at night in the central US time zone and wake up early in the morning in the central European time zone.
Since my daughter is three-going-on-sixteen I decided to appeal to her vanity by educating her about the merits of beauty sleep yesterday evening. It worked. She went to bed on time with no appeals for more water/snacks/stories/hugs, and as of 4:30 am she is still asleep, thank goodness.
I, on the other hand, didn't follow my own counsel. I stayed up reading until 11:30 and was wide awake four hours later. After trying to fight it for a while, I decided to remind my body that if it won't sleep, it has to get out of bed and work. I made the long commute from my bedroom to my adjoining office and sat down at the computer to do some writing.
It's reminiscent of my early A.D. days, when I was on post-op steroids and doing this on a daily basis -- except back then I managed to write several magazine articles and a book. This time I'm not on steroids -- just too much on (what's left of) my mind. So I'm not as productive, and all I can churn out right now is a brief blog post.
The funny part will be reading this later in the day to see how many silly typos I made while BUI (Blogging Under Insomnia).
We don't share DNA, but she has nonetheless managed to carry the family insomniac torch into another generation. I got it from my mom, who got it from her mom, who probably got it from her mom. Great-Grandma Mabel's parents immigrated to Chicago from Sweden, so my theory is that we sometimes go to bed late at night in the central US time zone and wake up early in the morning in the central European time zone.
Since my daughter is three-going-on-sixteen I decided to appeal to her vanity by educating her about the merits of beauty sleep yesterday evening. It worked. She went to bed on time with no appeals for more water/snacks/stories/hugs, and as of 4:30 am she is still asleep, thank goodness.
I, on the other hand, didn't follow my own counsel. I stayed up reading until 11:30 and was wide awake four hours later. After trying to fight it for a while, I decided to remind my body that if it won't sleep, it has to get out of bed and work. I made the long commute from my bedroom to my adjoining office and sat down at the computer to do some writing.
It's reminiscent of my early A.D. days, when I was on post-op steroids and doing this on a daily basis -- except back then I managed to write several magazine articles and a book. This time I'm not on steroids -- just too much on (what's left of) my mind. So I'm not as productive, and all I can churn out right now is a brief blog post.
The funny part will be reading this later in the day to see how many silly typos I made while BUI (Blogging Under Insomnia).
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
The Other Raptor
The movie Jurassic Park was so scary. I remember when it first came out, and my husband and I stood in line at the movie theater with lots of parents and their small children, as though this were some kind of Barney event. As the movie progressed, there was a parade of these same parents, dragging their terrified children out of the theater. We scratched our heads and shrugged, as we were childless at the time and feeling rather smug in our ability to armchair-quarterback parenthood.
There's this one scene that has come to (what's left of) my mind lately. It's the one where the kids are trapped in the kitchen with a fierce and clever raptor who is hunting them, and they are playing this highly suspenseful cat-and-mouse game. It got to the point where I could barely stand it any longer, when another raptor came in the room. At that point, I thought this was over -- how could these kids possibly survive two raptors?
But they did.
I was telling this story to my Aunt Pat, who is having a PET scan done today to further examine some spots on her liver and lung, which may be nothing -- or which may be her cancer spreading. (She is a colorectal cancer survivor.) We'll know the results tomorrow, and hopefully she doesn't have any more raptors entering her kitchen. But even if she does, the game isn't over. It becomes another battle, and it's better to face the raptor head-on instead of having it take over without warning.
In an eerie coincidence, I got a letter in the mail today, informing me that my recent mammogram warrants further examination. I go in tomorrow, and hopefully I won't have any more raptors entering my kitchen. (I know that many recalled cases end up being nothing.) But I thought it was interesting to have talked to my aunt about the possibility of taking on another raptor and surviving. Maybe it was a way of preparing myself for the possibility.
Or maybe tomorrow will just bring us both a big sigh of relief.
(OR maybe this is how I will finally get book #2 finished...)
There's this one scene that has come to (what's left of) my mind lately. It's the one where the kids are trapped in the kitchen with a fierce and clever raptor who is hunting them, and they are playing this highly suspenseful cat-and-mouse game. It got to the point where I could barely stand it any longer, when another raptor came in the room. At that point, I thought this was over -- how could these kids possibly survive two raptors?
But they did.
I was telling this story to my Aunt Pat, who is having a PET scan done today to further examine some spots on her liver and lung, which may be nothing -- or which may be her cancer spreading. (She is a colorectal cancer survivor.) We'll know the results tomorrow, and hopefully she doesn't have any more raptors entering her kitchen. But even if she does, the game isn't over. It becomes another battle, and it's better to face the raptor head-on instead of having it take over without warning.
In an eerie coincidence, I got a letter in the mail today, informing me that my recent mammogram warrants further examination. I go in tomorrow, and hopefully I won't have any more raptors entering my kitchen. (I know that many recalled cases end up being nothing.) But I thought it was interesting to have talked to my aunt about the possibility of taking on another raptor and surviving. Maybe it was a way of preparing myself for the possibility.
Or maybe tomorrow will just bring us both a big sigh of relief.
(OR maybe this is how I will finally get book #2 finished...)
Thursday, October 02, 2008
"Normal People" Stuff
It was actually kind of fun this week, being well enough in my head to be worrying about "normal people stuff."
Like my knee. It's still not happy with me after last week's karate classes and belt test. I had more x-rays and an MRI on Tuesday, and I get to visit the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow for my verdict and sentencing. Meanwhile, I keep trying various combinations of rest, ice packs, InterX, brace, Advil, and -- when push comes to shove --crutches. And each wince of pain is a reminder that -- hey -- how many GBM survivors get to complain about knee strain from trying out scissor kicks nearly three years after diagnosis?
(By the way, it was really funny having my knee go in the MRI tube instead of my head!)
I also had my first mammogram on Tuesday, now that my "normal people" doctor is satisfied that I am not dead and therefore I am subject to routine screenings. They had to pull my chart out of the archive warehouse.
(By the way -- did you know that when you get a mammogram you get to wear a really cool cape? I think if more women knew that, they'd quit procrastinating. And now I think I have my Halloween costume figured out.)
It was just really cool to spend most of the day in doctor's offices and radiology centers, knowing that for the first time in nearly three years, none of this had anything to do with what usually has me in doctor's offices and radiology centers.
Like my knee. It's still not happy with me after last week's karate classes and belt test. I had more x-rays and an MRI on Tuesday, and I get to visit the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow for my verdict and sentencing. Meanwhile, I keep trying various combinations of rest, ice packs, InterX, brace, Advil, and -- when push comes to shove --crutches. And each wince of pain is a reminder that -- hey -- how many GBM survivors get to complain about knee strain from trying out scissor kicks nearly three years after diagnosis?
(By the way, it was really funny having my knee go in the MRI tube instead of my head!)
I also had my first mammogram on Tuesday, now that my "normal people" doctor is satisfied that I am not dead and therefore I am subject to routine screenings. They had to pull my chart out of the archive warehouse.
(By the way -- did you know that when you get a mammogram you get to wear a really cool cape? I think if more women knew that, they'd quit procrastinating. And now I think I have my Halloween costume figured out.)
It was just really cool to spend most of the day in doctor's offices and radiology centers, knowing that for the first time in nearly three years, none of this had anything to do with what usually has me in doctor's offices and radiology centers.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Earned Another Stripe
It was the most painful date night my husband and I ever had. We both had karate belt testing this evening. He started about seven months after I did, and earned his blue belt. I earned my brown stripe. My next aim is my first brown belt, and after three levels of brown I would (hopefully) earn the chance to test for my black belt.
Not only did I do this one with half a brain, but I also did it with a gimp leg. Earlier this week I was learning a brown belt form that is particularly acrobatic, and my knee was not happy with the part where I had to spring from a crouch position into a scissor kick. It's been trying to punish me ever since.
Luckily the ongoing knee pain was secondary to the thrill of the test, knowing that once again I was doing something that would have seemed impossible to me about two years ago.
Not only did I do this one with half a brain, but I also did it with a gimp leg. Earlier this week I was learning a brown belt form that is particularly acrobatic, and my knee was not happy with the part where I had to spring from a crouch position into a scissor kick. It's been trying to punish me ever since.
Luckily the ongoing knee pain was secondary to the thrill of the test, knowing that once again I was doing something that would have seemed impossible to me about two years ago.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
...and...THIRTY-THREE!
Yesterday I was able to mark thirty three months of living like I'd never lived before. In three more months I'll be considered a "long-term survivor."
My family members now refer to my condition as the "alleged" brain tumor.
Still gotta keep on my toes. Still gotta be thankful for the gift of each breath, and for the hope that each new day brings.
Still gotta live while I can.
(Don't we all?)
My family members now refer to my condition as the "alleged" brain tumor.
Still gotta keep on my toes. Still gotta be thankful for the gift of each breath, and for the hope that each new day brings.
Still gotta live while I can.
(Don't we all?)
Friday, August 29, 2008
Something in politics worth blogging about here!
"A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not why the ship is built."
- Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin, giving her remarks after being named McCain's VP pick
This was said in the context of explaining why she didn't go with the "safe and easy" way of status quo politics. But naturally, I had my cancer glasses on and appreciated the additional application to adversity in our lives and the faith that gets us through it all.
We weren't "built" here on earth to have a safe and easy ride. Not that we are supposed to go out looking for danger, but life is meant to be bumpy so that we can learn and develop our fullest potential. If we press forward with a steadfastness in Christ and a perfect brightness of hope, we can successfully navigate through this life experience.
- Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin, giving her remarks after being named McCain's VP pick
This was said in the context of explaining why she didn't go with the "safe and easy" way of status quo politics. But naturally, I had my cancer glasses on and appreciated the additional application to adversity in our lives and the faith that gets us through it all.
We weren't "built" here on earth to have a safe and easy ride. Not that we are supposed to go out looking for danger, but life is meant to be bumpy so that we can learn and develop our fullest potential. If we press forward with a steadfastness in Christ and a perfect brightness of hope, we can successfully navigate through this life experience.
Sorry for the long pause...I was on my honeymoon!
Actually, I'm still on my honeymoon...and have been for the past twenty years!
And here they are a few days later, celebrating their 20th anniversary in Hawaii!
(Photography just doesn't do it justice.)
Then we were off to Laie, to immerse ourselves in the island experience at the Polynesian Cultural Center. (It was like Epcot Center for Polynesia!)
Here we are with our tour guide, "Rock":
After a fun day and a monster feast of seafood and fruit (no pig, thank you -- gimme Omega 3's and antioxidants) and a spectacular Horizons pageant, we spent the night on the north side of Oahu, at the beautiful Turtle Bay Resort.
We spent the morning walking the beach, and then got some toes-up time with some good books on the balcony of our room:
And then we headed back to Laie to check out the BYU-Hawaii campus and thank the bookstore manager for having my book on their shelves...
...and to spend a couple of hours inside the "Taj Mahal of the Pacific": the Laie Temple, which to us is the most peaceful of all the peaceful places in Hawaii.
We headed back to Waikiki and played in the ocean. We also tried to have another toes-up moment with a book on the balcony, but this time I was sixteen floors up so it wasn't quite as relaxing. 
(Cancer hasn't cured my acrophobia yet!)
(I figured eating rice with chopsticks made for another reassuring neuro test.)
One eight-hour flight later, we were back home being greeted by a hand-made welcome sign from the kids. It was a long enough trip to enjoy some solitude, but short enough to get home just as we started to miss them.
A taste of paradise to celebrate a twenty-year down payment on forever...
Look at those cute kids at the Salt Lake Temple on August 20, 1988!
And there they are again, on August 11, 2008!
And here they are a few days later, celebrating their 20th anniversary in Hawaii!
(Twenty years...ten addresses...two kids...four beagles...and one brain tumor later.)
This hug at Hanauma Bay is courtesy of my mom, who not only gave us the trip, but also came to our house and watched the kids while we were gone.
We spent our first night as classic tourists in Waikiki. Since Texas is five hours ahead of Hawaii, we were able to wake up, walk the beach, and eat breakfast before heading up to Diamond Head to watch the sunrise.
(Photography just doesn't do it justice.) Then we were off to Laie, to immerse ourselves in the island experience at the Polynesian Cultural Center. (It was like Epcot Center for Polynesia!)
Here we are with our tour guide, "Rock":
And here I am, at a demonstration of Maori New Zealand (Aotearoa):
After a fun day and a monster feast of seafood and fruit (no pig, thank you -- gimme Omega 3's and antioxidants) and a spectacular Horizons pageant, we spent the night on the north side of Oahu, at the beautiful Turtle Bay Resort.
We spent the morning walking the beach, and then got some toes-up time with some good books on the balcony of our room:
And then we headed back to Laie to check out the BYU-Hawaii campus and thank the bookstore manager for having my book on their shelves......and to spend a couple of hours inside the "Taj Mahal of the Pacific": the Laie Temple, which to us is the most peaceful of all the peaceful places in Hawaii.
We headed back to Waikiki and played in the ocean. We also tried to have another toes-up moment with a book on the balcony, but this time I was sixteen floors up so it wasn't quite as relaxing. (Cancer hasn't cured my acrophobia yet!)So we opted for some other forms of relaxation: 1) shopping and 2) good Japanese food. My husband served his mission in Tokyo, and loved being around so many Japanese people and getting reacquainted with the language.
(I figured eating rice with chopsticks made for another reassuring neuro test.) We spent our last day checking out more sights, including Pearl Harbor and Queen Emma's Summer Palace (could not resist that one, since our daughter's name is Emma) and having the ultimate schmaltzy tourist's lunch at the Cheeseburger in Paradise restaurant. (After four days of fish and fruit, I splurged on a burger topped with a huge slab of grilled pineapple and sliced avocado.)
One eight-hour flight later, we were back home being greeted by a hand-made welcome sign from the kids. It was a long enough trip to enjoy some solitude, but short enough to get home just as we started to miss them.
A taste of paradise to celebrate a twenty-year down payment on forever...
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
...and...uh...
...uh...
THIRTY-TWO!!!!
(Lemme check now...is that right?)
(It is!!!)
Thirty-two months of survival!
Thirty-two months of miracles, one at a time!
THIRTY-TWO!!!!
(Lemme check now...is that right?)
(It is!!!)
Thirty-two months of survival!
Thirty-two months of miracles, one at a time!
One Miracle at a Time
It was amazing.
It didn't come with an asterisk.
It caused some head swelling, which didn't show up on the last MRI.
It was awesome!
It happened in Utah, at the Families Supporting Adoption National Conference. I taught three classes at the conference, and gave a small address during the general session.
I also gave a brief acceptance speech after being presented with FSA's Hall of Fame Award.
As I considered previous recipients of this award, I started hearing the old Sesame Street song about "one of these things is not like the other!"
Also, considering my steroid use following surgery and during cancer treatments, I thought it was cool to be a "hall-of-famer" with no asterisk by my name!
The conference theme was "One Miracle At a Time." It reminded me of my life, and how it has unfolded...one miracle at a time. From the miracle of each new day, to the miracle of a loving marriage and two miraculous adoptions, to the miraculous transformation of adversity into blessings, I have witnessed many miracles.
I look forward to seeing many more.
It didn't come with an asterisk.
It caused some head swelling, which didn't show up on the last MRI.
It was awesome!
It happened in Utah, at the Families Supporting Adoption National Conference. I taught three classes at the conference, and gave a small address during the general session.
I also gave a brief acceptance speech after being presented with FSA's Hall of Fame Award.
As I considered previous recipients of this award, I started hearing the old Sesame Street song about "one of these things is not like the other!"Also, considering my steroid use following surgery and during cancer treatments, I thought it was cool to be a "hall-of-famer" with no asterisk by my name!
The conference theme was "One Miracle At a Time." It reminded me of my life, and how it has unfolded...one miracle at a time. From the miracle of each new day, to the miracle of a loving marriage and two miraculous adoptions, to the miraculous transformation of adversity into blessings, I have witnessed many miracles.
I look forward to seeing many more.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
How To Endure Anything
My daughter turned three in June, which is usually amazing to people, because she looks much older. She's super-tall for her age, and she's also very articulate for a preschooler. And added upon that, her personality aged about ten more years after a recent trip to "Nana's."
Just to give you some history on the hair journey that led us to Nana's:
When Emma was a few months old we started out doing the "cocoa puffs":
Just to give you some history on the hair journey that led us to Nana's:
When Emma was a few months old we started out doing the "cocoa puffs":
And then earlier this year she graduated to "fro and headband":
Emma always looked adorable, but she was soon ready for something different in her coif. When she wore jeans and a t-shirt, people often mistook her for a very charming little boy. Store clerks were always saying, "Hey, Buddy!" Someone even mistook her for our six-year-old nephew on one occasion.
So my husband took her to see "Nana," a local hair braider/weaver in our town. The idea of sitting in the chair and letting a stranger touch her hair sent our daughter into a screaming rage. Fro and headband remained the style, and we just tried to keep her wearing skirts and pink clothes.
A few weeks ago we decided to try again. I took her into Nana's salon to see about making an appointment. Emma entered cautiously with me, remembering her previous trauma. But this time she let Nana comb out her hair as a test, so we went ahead and made an appointment for the following day.
I prepared Emma all the next day, telling her that she was going to have her hair braided, and that her hair was going to be really pretty. She appeared to be a little nervous, but when the time came she readily complied, got into the chair, and sat like a little angel for THREE HOURS while Nana sectioned off her hair into little pieces, then wove in some longer locks and braided them. It was a painstaking process, but Em did not utter one complaint, no matter how hard Nana had to tug on her hair. She did not squirm. She did not ask for a drink or a snack. She actually napped through part of the process. Nana (who has been braiding since she was a young girl herself) marveled that she had never been able to work on a three-year-old this easily before.
When Nana was finished braiding, she took sections of braids and wrapped them around a curler, then dipped them in boiling water to make little ringlet curls. I was the nervous one this time, but luckily Emma remained still and patient.
Finally the moment came to show her the end result. Beautiful, long braids with curls at the end. (For those who read Ramona the Pest as a kid will appreciate the term, "boing-boing" curls.) Emma stared into the mirror and smiled.
Knowing that Emma has been historically incapable of sitting still for five minutes, much less three hours, I found myself learning a lesson as I watched this miraculous event.
How did Emma endure three hours of sitting still and letting her hair get tugged, piece by piece, with no entertainment? Three hours is like three eternities in Three-Year-Old Land, so why wasn't there a single peep of complaint?
The answer is simple: she knew the purpose of the experience, and she was willing to endure whatever it took to achieve that end.
I know -- vanity isn't the most worthy of pursuits. But this was a (literally) cute way of illustrating the value of staying focused on the prize.
Romans 5:1-5: "Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope in the glory of God. And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also; knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope; And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us."
James 5:11:"Behold, we count them happy which endure; Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy."
Doctrine & Covenants 121:7-8: "My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over thy foes."
Monday, July 28, 2008
He Ain't Heavy (his stuff just is!)
I turned 41 on Friday. (Yay!)
I was happy when I turned 40 last year -- something not many 38-year-olds diagnosed with GBM get to do. So turning 41 was even better!
On top of that, I got everything I wanted this year. The birthday itself, of course. And good MRI's all year (so far--praise God)!
I also got my favorite shoes. Not new ones -- just my old favorites that had been hiding from me. They were gorgeous Italian shoes that were a rare find during a garage sale last year, but a common loss in our house. (I swear my epitaph will read, "She couldn't find her shoes.") It drove me nuts, constantly hunting for those shoes for months. For a while I was cruelly teased by the discovery of one shoe. It had separated from its mate, which seemed hopelessly lost. I even tried replacing them, but I could not find their equal in stores.
Then last week I dreamed that I found the other shoe. I woke up and looked under my bed (something I had done many times before) and FOUND IT!
My husband cleaned the house and treated me to three new outfits to go with my shoes. There is a special occasion coming up (I'll talk about it later) and now I have my Barbie clothes for that.
My kids gave me gifts and made me cards. My son's card was "To my speasl, speasl Mom." (His dad later taught him the right way to spell "special.") And my daughter carefully wrote "MOM" on hers -- the first word she's written on her own.
And my brother Jim drove in to town. He and his family are now officially Texas residents, living about twelve minutes from my house, and close to where Jim is setting up his dermatology practice. We spent my birthday emptying the moving truck, which was actually pretty neat. I considered it opening the big, huge present I'd been hoping for all year. (More family living close to me.) We followed that ceremony with lots of revelry, as the remaining non-Dallas-area members of my family also came up to celebrate Jim's arrival, my birthday, my nephew's birthday, my grandmother's birthday (lucky her -- she's turning 89) and some anniversaries.
On Saturday evening I saw the Osmonds wrap up their 50th anniversary tour, and as they sang "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" I thought about how light the moment was for all of us, no matter how heavy the boxes and furniture were. As I thanked my mom and my grandma for being part of the reason for my birthday, I thanked Jim for his life-saving advice nearly three years ago, which is part of the reason I've been lucky enough to have forty-one birthdays.
I was happy when I turned 40 last year -- something not many 38-year-olds diagnosed with GBM get to do. So turning 41 was even better!
On top of that, I got everything I wanted this year. The birthday itself, of course. And good MRI's all year (so far--praise God)!
I also got my favorite shoes. Not new ones -- just my old favorites that had been hiding from me. They were gorgeous Italian shoes that were a rare find during a garage sale last year, but a common loss in our house. (I swear my epitaph will read, "She couldn't find her shoes.") It drove me nuts, constantly hunting for those shoes for months. For a while I was cruelly teased by the discovery of one shoe. It had separated from its mate, which seemed hopelessly lost. I even tried replacing them, but I could not find their equal in stores.
Then last week I dreamed that I found the other shoe. I woke up and looked under my bed (something I had done many times before) and FOUND IT!
My husband cleaned the house and treated me to three new outfits to go with my shoes. There is a special occasion coming up (I'll talk about it later) and now I have my Barbie clothes for that.
My kids gave me gifts and made me cards. My son's card was "To my speasl, speasl Mom." (His dad later taught him the right way to spell "special.") And my daughter carefully wrote "MOM" on hers -- the first word she's written on her own.
And my brother Jim drove in to town. He and his family are now officially Texas residents, living about twelve minutes from my house, and close to where Jim is setting up his dermatology practice. We spent my birthday emptying the moving truck, which was actually pretty neat. I considered it opening the big, huge present I'd been hoping for all year. (More family living close to me.) We followed that ceremony with lots of revelry, as the remaining non-Dallas-area members of my family also came up to celebrate Jim's arrival, my birthday, my nephew's birthday, my grandmother's birthday (lucky her -- she's turning 89) and some anniversaries.
On Saturday evening I saw the Osmonds wrap up their 50th anniversary tour, and as they sang "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" I thought about how light the moment was for all of us, no matter how heavy the boxes and furniture were. As I thanked my mom and my grandma for being part of the reason for my birthday, I thanked Jim for his life-saving advice nearly three years ago, which is part of the reason I've been lucky enough to have forty-one birthdays.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
The Rest
The word "rest" is on (what's left of) my mind.
Maybe it's because I get to rest from monitoring for three months.
Maybe it's because my son loves to practice the piano, and is still learning about rest values.
Maybe it's because my brother Mike and I were recently discussing our family heritage of sleep deprivation.
And maybe because I was thinking of my 2ofus4now support group and a question that someone asked about why certain factors in her situation couldn't guarantee a particular outcome.
Actually, that question can apply to everyone at some point (or points) in their lives. Sometimes circumstances are predictable (like if you put your hand on the surface of a hot stove, you will feel intense heat). Sometimes, however, we are placed in situations that are very unpredictable and difficult to navigate.
I was also thinking of a recent conversation I had with a friend, who faces overwhelming challenges and heart-wrenching decisions. Sometimes decisions are easy (like, "should I put my hand on the surface of that hot stove?") and some are not -- especially when options seem to be equally good and bad.
As I pondered these conversations, I thought about faith and prayer and righteous desires...and rest. Whenever we have a problem to solve, or a question to answer, or an uncertain future to face, these elements come into play.
We consider our righteous desires. Through study and prayer and pondering with sincere hearts we can understand what things are worthy of our petition.
We put our petition before the Lord in faith that he will hear us. We breathe life into our faith through our works, pursuing with our best efforts the paths and resources that are open to us.
The rest -- well, it's the rest.
(Kind of like how today is a gift -- the "present".)
The rest is out of our hands, and so we don't have to carry it around. It is a chance to rest "the rest" in the sure knowledge that we are loved and cared for, and that we are subject to the will of the Lord, who knows us and loves us. We won't go astray if we are sincerely tring to do our best, and put our complete trust in the Shepherd. We may rest safely in that trust, knowing that even if it is through thorny ways, we will be led to a joyful end.
"Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls." (Matthew 11:29)
Maybe it's because I get to rest from monitoring for three months.
Maybe it's because my son loves to practice the piano, and is still learning about rest values.
Maybe it's because my brother Mike and I were recently discussing our family heritage of sleep deprivation.
And maybe because I was thinking of my 2ofus4now support group and a question that someone asked about why certain factors in her situation couldn't guarantee a particular outcome.
Actually, that question can apply to everyone at some point (or points) in their lives. Sometimes circumstances are predictable (like if you put your hand on the surface of a hot stove, you will feel intense heat). Sometimes, however, we are placed in situations that are very unpredictable and difficult to navigate.
I was also thinking of a recent conversation I had with a friend, who faces overwhelming challenges and heart-wrenching decisions. Sometimes decisions are easy (like, "should I put my hand on the surface of that hot stove?") and some are not -- especially when options seem to be equally good and bad.
As I pondered these conversations, I thought about faith and prayer and righteous desires...and rest. Whenever we have a problem to solve, or a question to answer, or an uncertain future to face, these elements come into play.
We consider our righteous desires. Through study and prayer and pondering with sincere hearts we can understand what things are worthy of our petition.
We put our petition before the Lord in faith that he will hear us. We breathe life into our faith through our works, pursuing with our best efforts the paths and resources that are open to us.
The rest -- well, it's the rest.
(Kind of like how today is a gift -- the "present".)
The rest is out of our hands, and so we don't have to carry it around. It is a chance to rest "the rest" in the sure knowledge that we are loved and cared for, and that we are subject to the will of the Lord, who knows us and loves us. We won't go astray if we are sincerely tring to do our best, and put our complete trust in the Shepherd. We may rest safely in that trust, knowing that even if it is through thorny ways, we will be led to a joyful end.
"Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls." (Matthew 11:29)
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Quarter Rest
Today's MRI was good! Things have remained stable long enough that my "live and look" plan has been extended to three-month intervals!
As long as I remain symptom-free, I am finished with MRI scans for the rest of this quarter. I don't go back until October 14! My son begged me to show him the "pictures" when I got home. He wrote me a note to tell me how happy he was that my pictures looked good. To punctuate it, he taped part of his favorite pencil to the note as my prize.
Recent clinical evidence of a functional brain is useful when I have half-brained moments (like when I went to karate class this evening without my belt). I also realized today that I completely forgot about July 12 being my "...and THIRTY-ONE!" monthly milestone!
(...brief moment of elation to mark that milestone...)
Speaking of half-brained moments, I heard a cute joke today about someone who named their pet zebra "Spot".
And another one about a guy who said he had CDO. "It's like OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder)", he explained, "but with the letters in alphabetical order...like they should be!"
And I also listened to someone talk about the logic behind selling suitcases at the airport. "Do they really think someone is running around with his arm full of shirts, looking to buy a suitcase?"
Those gave me a chuckle as I went into the tube. It's nice to be able to smile when you're getting your picture taken!
As long as I remain symptom-free, I am finished with MRI scans for the rest of this quarter. I don't go back until October 14! My son begged me to show him the "pictures" when I got home. He wrote me a note to tell me how happy he was that my pictures looked good. To punctuate it, he taped part of his favorite pencil to the note as my prize.
Recent clinical evidence of a functional brain is useful when I have half-brained moments (like when I went to karate class this evening without my belt). I also realized today that I completely forgot about July 12 being my "...and THIRTY-ONE!" monthly milestone!
(...brief moment of elation to mark that milestone...)
Speaking of half-brained moments, I heard a cute joke today about someone who named their pet zebra "Spot".
And another one about a guy who said he had CDO. "It's like OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder)", he explained, "but with the letters in alphabetical order...like they should be!"
And I also listened to someone talk about the logic behind selling suitcases at the airport. "Do they really think someone is running around with his arm full of shirts, looking to buy a suitcase?"
Those gave me a chuckle as I went into the tube. It's nice to be able to smile when you're getting your picture taken!
Monday, July 14, 2008
Here I go again!
(My apologies to Whitesnake)
Here I go again on my own,
Goin' through the MRI I've always known.
Thanks to prayers I know I'll never walk alone.
And with what's on my mind,
I ain't wasting no more time!
I'm just another brain in need of rescue,
Riding solo without chemotherapy,
And I'm gonna hold on
For the rest of my days,
'Cause I know what it means
To hope the doctor says the scan looks clean!
Here I go again!
JULY 15, 2008 -- MRI # 19
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Second = Best
My son's baseball team finished their season tonight with an exciting championship game...
...and took home the second place trophy.
...and took home the second place trophy.
(That's my Jake, front row, third from your right, holding his trophy high in one hand with his Gatorade in his other hand!)
This team has played together since they were four years old, and they work really well together. This season they moved into a tougher league, and they had some challenges to overcome. And despite those challenges, they managed to pull off a great season, and we have enjoyed each moment.
Despite their disappointment over not winning the championship title, they still emerged from the bullpen exuberant over a job well done. They really played their best this season, and that made it so exciting to watch. In my completely objective and unbiased opinion, they were true champions.
Best of all, I spent the season grateful time and again for the opportunity to be in the bleachers, rooting for #8 and getting a wink and a thumbs-up sign from him. Tonight was one of those moments I would never want to miss -- and I didn't!
Friday, June 27, 2008
It's not easy being green
(But it's awesome!)
I had my belt test today. I reached the rank of Gokkyu and earned my green belt!
It wasn't easy. It ended up being a private test, and a really intense workout for over an hour. Toward the end, as I was delivering a series of roundhouse elbow strikes to "Bob" (the standing punching bag) I felt something in my left shoulder go "pop" and then my hand went all tingly and I couldn't raise my arm.
I felt like Daniel-san in The Karate Kid, and I wished for Mr. Miyagi to run into the dojo and rub his hands together and fix my shoulder. But instead I was given an opportunity to defend myself with whatever was still working. I did yet another form without using my left arm, and then I had to exact my revenge on Bob with another fifty strikes, this time using only my right arm and legs. I did some punches and kicks, and then I decided to come crashing down with a full force shuto strike with the side of my right hand onto the top of Bob...
...except the top of Bob wasn't padded. (OWWWWWWW!)
So I'm blogging while I alternate icing my left shoulder and my right hand.
And as I left the studio victorious with my new green belt and matching green t-shirt, I noticed that my new sensei underestimated my normal shirt size and gave me a smaller one. But when I got home and tried it on, it fit! My exuberance over that discovery helped mitigate the intense pain of lifting my arm to try it on.
(until I'm ready for brown stripe...)
I had my belt test today. I reached the rank of Gokkyu and earned my green belt!
It wasn't easy. It ended up being a private test, and a really intense workout for over an hour. Toward the end, as I was delivering a series of roundhouse elbow strikes to "Bob" (the standing punching bag) I felt something in my left shoulder go "pop" and then my hand went all tingly and I couldn't raise my arm.
I felt like Daniel-san in The Karate Kid, and I wished for Mr. Miyagi to run into the dojo and rub his hands together and fix my shoulder. But instead I was given an opportunity to defend myself with whatever was still working. I did yet another form without using my left arm, and then I had to exact my revenge on Bob with another fifty strikes, this time using only my right arm and legs. I did some punches and kicks, and then I decided to come crashing down with a full force shuto strike with the side of my right hand onto the top of Bob...
...except the top of Bob wasn't padded. (OWWWWWWW!)
So I'm blogging while I alternate icing my left shoulder and my right hand.
And as I left the studio victorious with my new green belt and matching green t-shirt, I noticed that my new sensei underestimated my normal shirt size and gave me a smaller one. But when I got home and tried it on, it fit! My exuberance over that discovery helped mitigate the intense pain of lifting my arm to try it on.
It's not that easy being green;
Being a Gokkyu with a broken wing.
When I see my hand and shoulder turning black, or blue, or red,
Or something much more colorful like that.
It's not easy being green
It seems I can't do some very ordinary things
And people tend to pass me over 'cause I'm
Wearing the same outfit everyday
(To painful to change clothes).
But green's the color of Spring
And green meant I had balance,
And memory, and neuromuscular strength--
Like a reassuring neuro exam!
When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why, but why wonder why?
Wonder, I am green and it'll do fine; it's beautiful --
And I think it's what I want to be!
(until I'm ready for brown stripe...)
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Sunday Sermon
We had a great weekend with lots of family in town to celebrate my daughter's third birthday. They also stayed long enough to hear me speak in church today. For those of my family and friends who weren't able to be there, this is what you missed:
In Doctrine & Covenants section 122 the Lord responds to the prophet Joseph Smith, who is in Liberty Jail. After describing many awful possibilities, the Lord said: “…and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.”
When I first learned this scripture I wondered how all those terrible things could possibly “give thee experience” and “be for thy good”. Of course, at the time, I was pretty inexperienced with adversity.
Our Heavenly Father designed a great plan of happiness to bring to pass our immortality and eternal lives. And yet this plan of happiness necessarily includes opposition and adversity. When our lives take twists and turns that we don’t expect – or want – we may find ourselves longing for a more predictable and pain-free existence. Something more simple, fair, and controllable.
We must remember that in the premortal existence there was a plan presented, where everything was controlled to ensure a guaranteed outcome. But that plan, presented by Lucifer, was contrary to the will of the Father. It was rejected, and those who supported Lucifer’s plan were cast out. Our existence on this earth is evidence of our willingness to accept the Lord’s way.
The Book of Mormon records Lehi’s counsel to his son Jacob, who had experienced much affliction and sorrow. Lehi taught that in order to accomplish his purposes, the Lord’s plan required an opposition in all things. In order to bring to pass righteousness, the plan allowed for wickedness. In order for us to appreciate joy, we must also be subject to misery.
President Spencer W. Kimball explained this in more detail: “Is there not wisdom in his giving us trials that we might rise above them, responsibilities that we might achieve, work to harden our muscles, sorrows to try our souls? Are we not exposed to temptations to test our strength, sickness that we might learn patience, death that we might be immortalized and glorified?If all the sick for whom we prayed were healed, if all the righteous were protected and the wicked destroyed, the whole program of the Father would be annulled and the basic principle of the gospel, free agency, would be ended. No man would have to live by faith. If joy and peace and rewards were instantaneously given the doer of good, there could be no evil—all would do good but not because of the rightness of doing good. There would be no test of strength, no development of character, no growth of powers, no free agency, only satanic controls.”
After acknowledging the role of adversity in the Lord’s plan, Father Lehi also taught Jacob, “thou knowest the greatness of God; and he shall consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain.”
The same reassurance was given by the Lord to the persecuted saints in Missouri: “Fear not…All things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good.”
There are many scriptural examples of how this promise is fulfilled, and I’ll name only a few. The more the Israelites were afflicted by the Egyptians, the more they multiplied and grew.
When Alma’s followers were enslaved and threatened, the Lord strengthened them that they could bear up their burdens with ease and submit cheerfully to his will.
Alma the younger described his own repentance process, in which he said that there could be nothing so exquisite and bitter as was his pain and suffering over his sinful state. Yet upon receiving forgiveness he said there was nothing so exquisite and sweet as his joy. His desire from that point forward was to labor without ceasing to bring more souls unto repentance. He taught his sons to rely upon the Lord, testifying, “And I have been supported under trials and troubles of every kind, yea, and in all manner of afflictions…yea, and I do put my trust in him, and he will still deliver me.”
The apostle Paul had what he called "a thorn in the flesh". He prayed for the Lord to take that thorn from him, but instead the Lord replied: "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness". The prophet Ether received a similar response when the Lord told him, “I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
President Ezra Taft Benson explained: “It is not on the pinnacle of success and ease where men and women grow most. It is often down in the valley of heartache and disappointment and reverses where men and women grow into strong characters.”
Ardeth Greene Kapp said that: “This life experience is designed for our growth and progress. Our trials will not be more than we can handle, but they cannot be less if we are to fill the measure of our creation.” This quote always reminds me of the careful silversmith, who oversees the refining process to bring out all of the potential of the silver while protecting it from damage.
Orson F. Whitney said that, “No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility.
And Elder Neal A. Maxwell put it well by saying, “How can you and I really expect to glide naively through life, as if to say, ‘Lord, give me experience, but not grief, not sorrow, not pain, not opposition, not betrayal, and certainly not to be forsaken. Keep from me, Lord, all those experiences which made Thee what Thou art! Then, let me come and dwell with Thee and fully share Thy joy!’” He also said that “For the faithful, there is short-term tribulation but long-term joy.”
Even the Savior, who walked in perfect obedience, needed to experience adversity in order to fulfill his mission. As Alma wrote, “And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; … and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.” The Savior himself said, “In the world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” President Hunter said that if our lives and our faith are centered upon Jesus Christ and his restored gospel, nothing can ever go permanently wrong.
As the Lord consecrates our afflictions for our gain, I have pondered how I might in turn consecrate my afflictions for the Lord’s purposes, like the apostle Paul, who gloried and took pleasure in infirmities for Christ's sake.
We don’t always get to choose the circumstances in our lives, but we always get to choose what we will do about them. Viktor Frankl was a Holocaust survivor who wrote about the various reactions he witnessed among concentration camp prisoners. He describes “the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." The Book of Mormon also describes the contrasting ways that people responded to adversity. Alma 62:41: “But behold, because of the exceedingly great length of the war between the Nephites and the Lamanites many had become hardened, because of the exceedingly great length of the war; and many were softened because of their afflictions, insomuch that they did humble themselves before God, even in the depth of humility.” We choose whether to allow adversity to be destructive or constructive experiences in our lives.
Elaine Cannon said that “A person who understands that life is schooling is more likely to benefit from adversity than one who expects only happiness in life.”
President Kimball said that “Suffering can make saints of people as they learn patience, long-suffering, and self-mastery.”
Many years ago, during a difficult time in my life, I had a visiting teacher who was going through significant adversity of her own. She was a faithful visiting teacher who focused on my needs, and when she closed her visits with prayer, she always prayed that we might both “quickly learn what we need to learn” from the trials we were facing. I have always remembered and appreciated her choice to learn from adversity.
The Savior suffered all that we suffer, so that he could know how to help us. Likewise, we can choose to develop compassion and empathy for others. We can use our experiences to become instruments in the Lord’s hands, to “mourn with those that mourn” and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort.”
We can also choose to develop gratitude, because adversity reveals things that we may otherwise take for granted. As we take notice and acknowledge the blessings in our lives, and the tender mercies that sustain us through our trials, more of them are revealed to us, and we become like the servant of Elisha, whose eyes were finally opened to see the numerous chariots of fire protecting them against the enemy.
We can also choose to submit ourselves to the Lord’s will, and reap the blessings that come from trusting in him. Howard W. Hunter said that “Peace can come to an individual only by an unconditional surrender to him who is the Prince of peace and who has the power to confer peace.”
The Savior said, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth.” He also said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.” And he said, “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.”
In Proverbs we read, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways, acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
In Doctrine & Covenants section 122 the Lord responds to the prophet Joseph Smith, who is in Liberty Jail. After describing many awful possibilities, the Lord said: “…and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.”
When I first learned this scripture I wondered how all those terrible things could possibly “give thee experience” and “be for thy good”. Of course, at the time, I was pretty inexperienced with adversity.
Our Heavenly Father designed a great plan of happiness to bring to pass our immortality and eternal lives. And yet this plan of happiness necessarily includes opposition and adversity. When our lives take twists and turns that we don’t expect – or want – we may find ourselves longing for a more predictable and pain-free existence. Something more simple, fair, and controllable.
We must remember that in the premortal existence there was a plan presented, where everything was controlled to ensure a guaranteed outcome. But that plan, presented by Lucifer, was contrary to the will of the Father. It was rejected, and those who supported Lucifer’s plan were cast out. Our existence on this earth is evidence of our willingness to accept the Lord’s way.
The Book of Mormon records Lehi’s counsel to his son Jacob, who had experienced much affliction and sorrow. Lehi taught that in order to accomplish his purposes, the Lord’s plan required an opposition in all things. In order to bring to pass righteousness, the plan allowed for wickedness. In order for us to appreciate joy, we must also be subject to misery.
President Spencer W. Kimball explained this in more detail: “Is there not wisdom in his giving us trials that we might rise above them, responsibilities that we might achieve, work to harden our muscles, sorrows to try our souls? Are we not exposed to temptations to test our strength, sickness that we might learn patience, death that we might be immortalized and glorified?If all the sick for whom we prayed were healed, if all the righteous were protected and the wicked destroyed, the whole program of the Father would be annulled and the basic principle of the gospel, free agency, would be ended. No man would have to live by faith. If joy and peace and rewards were instantaneously given the doer of good, there could be no evil—all would do good but not because of the rightness of doing good. There would be no test of strength, no development of character, no growth of powers, no free agency, only satanic controls.”
After acknowledging the role of adversity in the Lord’s plan, Father Lehi also taught Jacob, “thou knowest the greatness of God; and he shall consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain.”
The same reassurance was given by the Lord to the persecuted saints in Missouri: “Fear not…All things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good.”
There are many scriptural examples of how this promise is fulfilled, and I’ll name only a few. The more the Israelites were afflicted by the Egyptians, the more they multiplied and grew.
When Alma’s followers were enslaved and threatened, the Lord strengthened them that they could bear up their burdens with ease and submit cheerfully to his will.
Alma the younger described his own repentance process, in which he said that there could be nothing so exquisite and bitter as was his pain and suffering over his sinful state. Yet upon receiving forgiveness he said there was nothing so exquisite and sweet as his joy. His desire from that point forward was to labor without ceasing to bring more souls unto repentance. He taught his sons to rely upon the Lord, testifying, “And I have been supported under trials and troubles of every kind, yea, and in all manner of afflictions…yea, and I do put my trust in him, and he will still deliver me.”
The apostle Paul had what he called "a thorn in the flesh". He prayed for the Lord to take that thorn from him, but instead the Lord replied: "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness". The prophet Ether received a similar response when the Lord told him, “I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
President Ezra Taft Benson explained: “It is not on the pinnacle of success and ease where men and women grow most. It is often down in the valley of heartache and disappointment and reverses where men and women grow into strong characters.”
Ardeth Greene Kapp said that: “This life experience is designed for our growth and progress. Our trials will not be more than we can handle, but they cannot be less if we are to fill the measure of our creation.” This quote always reminds me of the careful silversmith, who oversees the refining process to bring out all of the potential of the silver while protecting it from damage.
Orson F. Whitney said that, “No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility.
And Elder Neal A. Maxwell put it well by saying, “How can you and I really expect to glide naively through life, as if to say, ‘Lord, give me experience, but not grief, not sorrow, not pain, not opposition, not betrayal, and certainly not to be forsaken. Keep from me, Lord, all those experiences which made Thee what Thou art! Then, let me come and dwell with Thee and fully share Thy joy!’” He also said that “For the faithful, there is short-term tribulation but long-term joy.”
Even the Savior, who walked in perfect obedience, needed to experience adversity in order to fulfill his mission. As Alma wrote, “And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; … and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.” The Savior himself said, “In the world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” President Hunter said that if our lives and our faith are centered upon Jesus Christ and his restored gospel, nothing can ever go permanently wrong.
As the Lord consecrates our afflictions for our gain, I have pondered how I might in turn consecrate my afflictions for the Lord’s purposes, like the apostle Paul, who gloried and took pleasure in infirmities for Christ's sake.
We don’t always get to choose the circumstances in our lives, but we always get to choose what we will do about them. Viktor Frankl was a Holocaust survivor who wrote about the various reactions he witnessed among concentration camp prisoners. He describes “the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." The Book of Mormon also describes the contrasting ways that people responded to adversity. Alma 62:41: “But behold, because of the exceedingly great length of the war between the Nephites and the Lamanites many had become hardened, because of the exceedingly great length of the war; and many were softened because of their afflictions, insomuch that they did humble themselves before God, even in the depth of humility.” We choose whether to allow adversity to be destructive or constructive experiences in our lives.
Elaine Cannon said that “A person who understands that life is schooling is more likely to benefit from adversity than one who expects only happiness in life.”
President Kimball said that “Suffering can make saints of people as they learn patience, long-suffering, and self-mastery.”
Many years ago, during a difficult time in my life, I had a visiting teacher who was going through significant adversity of her own. She was a faithful visiting teacher who focused on my needs, and when she closed her visits with prayer, she always prayed that we might both “quickly learn what we need to learn” from the trials we were facing. I have always remembered and appreciated her choice to learn from adversity.
The Savior suffered all that we suffer, so that he could know how to help us. Likewise, we can choose to develop compassion and empathy for others. We can use our experiences to become instruments in the Lord’s hands, to “mourn with those that mourn” and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort.”
We can also choose to develop gratitude, because adversity reveals things that we may otherwise take for granted. As we take notice and acknowledge the blessings in our lives, and the tender mercies that sustain us through our trials, more of them are revealed to us, and we become like the servant of Elisha, whose eyes were finally opened to see the numerous chariots of fire protecting them against the enemy.
We can also choose to submit ourselves to the Lord’s will, and reap the blessings that come from trusting in him. Howard W. Hunter said that “Peace can come to an individual only by an unconditional surrender to him who is the Prince of peace and who has the power to confer peace.”
The Savior said, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth.” He also said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.” And he said, “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.”
In Proverbs we read, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways, acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
In closing I want to quote President Gordon B.Hinckley at a time that must have been his deepest sorrow. From the funeral program for his wife, his words are as follows:
It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is.
It all works out.
Don’t worry.
I say that to myself every morning.
It will all work out.
Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future.
The Lord will not forsake us.
He will not forsake us.
If we will put our trust in Him,
If we will pray to Him,
If we will live worthy of His blessings,
He will hear our prayers."
It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is.
It all works out.
Don’t worry.
I say that to myself every morning.
It will all work out.
Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future.
The Lord will not forsake us.
He will not forsake us.
If we will put our trust in Him,
If we will pray to Him,
If we will live worthy of His blessings,
He will hear our prayers."
Someday we will be free from all of our earthly sorrows, but we will get to retain the experience that we have gained. These experiences will be for our good, making us better prepared to realize our greatest potential and our highest joy and fulfillment as children of our loving Heavenly Father. I bear testimony of this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
...and THIRTY!
June 12. It's my "baby" brother Blake's birthday (says the half-brained-yet-still-literate alliterate). This cute little guy turns 27.
And not to steal his party, but June 12 is also a birthday of sorts for me.
I know -- I'm really fortysomething, age-wise. But June 12 marks 30 months since my cancer diagnosis and my new "survivor" life began. But I promise not to start whining like the famous Thirtysomething folks.
After all, I'm still alive and kicking. Literally, in fact -- just ask my karate sensei, or "Bob", the standing punching bag that recently got a series of roundhouse blows to the face.
Somebody tell Ted Kennedy. Give him some hope.
Blake is coming up again this weekend for another visit (see, I'm still magnetic!) so we'll be able to celebrate. (With cake!)
Naturally this thought makes Beatles music start playing in (what's left of) my mind:
(na na na na na na)
You say it's your birthday
(na na na na na na)
It's my birthday too, yeah
(na na na na na na)
They say it's your birthday
(na na na na na na)
We're gonna have a good time!
(na na na na na na)
I'm glad it's your birthday
(na na na na na na)
Happy birthday to you!
Monday, June 09, 2008
Keep this picture handy for when things get really bad
This gave me a good immune-boosting laugh! Gotta keep this picture in my wallet in case I need it.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Unexpected side effects from the MRI
Since November 2005 I have made eighteen trips through the MRI tube to get my head examined.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging -- MRI -- is miraculous technology. Here's the half-brained description of how it works:
The scanning tube creates a strong magnetic field. The protons in the gazillions of water molecules in our body align with the magnetic field. A specially designed radio wave flips these protons around, and as they realign themselves they produce a detectable image. Different tissues of the body have protons that realign at different speeds, so it's possible to differentiate and distinguish things like fat, muscle, bone, and (lucky for me) brain tissue in the images.
(All this happens while I lie there for about an hour, pretending that I'm toothpaste in a tube sitting in a very loud laundromat with video games being played in the corner. )
Contrast agents are also used to help highlight blood vessels, tumors, and inflammation. The contrast agent commonly used nowadays is gadolinium, which has potentially serious side effects that are listed on the consent forms that I have to sign each time I go in for a scan. So far I've been lucky to avoid those side effects, and if there are any long-term effects yet to be discovered, I hope to live long enough to get to worry about them.
Surely this much interaction with magnetic fields could eventually turn me into some kind of superhero (yeah, I remember talking about that in my Vector Vision post long ago). But lately I've come to realize that there is another really cool side effect. Apparently I am able to create a strong pull on my family to bring them closer to me! Skeptical? Take a look at the evidence:
1. My dad moved from the Houston area to the Dallas area, and has recently relocated even closer -- just a few blocks away from my house.
2. My brother Mike and his family have moved here from North Carolina.
3. My grandmother relocated from Arizona to Texas. (She'll only be 89 this year, so I got her a bumper sticker that says, "I wasn't born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could!")
4. My brother Jim and his family came to visit us from Georgia last week, and spent most of their time looking at homes and schools and medical office space, as they are considering moving here to set up his dermatology practice.
5. My brother Blake and his friend also came to visit us, as they have an interest in setting up a business, possibly in our area.
This is just to name a few. I think more family may be heading our way!
And my new "magnetism" has worked on friends, too! We've had great reunions and visits with long-time friends, and one of them has even taken a job in our area and commutes here frequently.
I like it. It's more fun than waiting for people to gather around me at my viewing.
Plus, who knows -- maybe that viewing is still several decades down the road.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
No Hope?
I was at the grocery store on Saturday, and as I went through the checkout counter I noticed the first wave of tabloid stories about Senator Kennedy's brain tumor diagnosis, all with their sensational headlines. "SIX MONTHS TO LIVE!" said one. "KENNEDY DEATH WATCH" said another. One had a subtitle: "THERE'S NO HOPE!"
Good thing I never believe the tabloids.
I don't know any details about this person's medical condition, and even if I did -- I'm not a doctor who would be able to know what those details mean. But I do know this: THERE IS HOPE.
In a related story, I recall a conversation with someone who talked about "the worst thing that could happen" to anyone. That person said the worst thing was death. But it's not the worst thing that could happen to anyone. It's the only thing that does happen to everyone at some point. There's a time to be born, and a time to die.
So we're all terminal from the moment of our first breath, although none of us likes to think of it that way. But realizing that death is inevitable (and just at an unknown time to us) should not be a depressing thing. It should certainly not rob hope. After all, it's not the loss of life but the loss of hope that is one of the worst things that could happen to someone.
To quote part of a poem that I shared in a post last year:
If hope is false, then surely I guess,
There must be false hopelessness.
What would it mean to have false hopelessness?
Perhaps that indeed it was true hopefullness.
So let's turn it around, or inside out,
Because hope is something we can't live without.
-- Rebecca Libutti, from That's Unacceptable (2001)
Each day we wake up and do what we can, with an instinctive hope in the promise and opportunity of that day. If we think that our days are numbered less than we'd like, it just makes each day more precious and valuable. That's an economic fact -- they call it "supply and demand".
When we pray for a miracle, we do it with hope in the possibility of a miracle. Hope leads to faith, and faith fuels miracles. Even when adversity isn't spared, miracles in many forms surround the experience. I've seen that happen many times.
When life is not as we expected it to be (and really -- whose actually is precisely how they expected it to be?), it shouldn't rob hope. In fact, it is often in the face of disappointment and readjustment that we find new opportunities.
When mortality confronts us with some advance notice, some consider that lucky. When it confronts us suddenly, it is still viewed as lucky in other ways. When this life is over, all that we lose is this life, and that was the plan from the beginning. Even then, I am grateful to know that there is still much to hope for.
Good thing I never believe the tabloids.
I don't know any details about this person's medical condition, and even if I did -- I'm not a doctor who would be able to know what those details mean. But I do know this: THERE IS HOPE.
In a related story, I recall a conversation with someone who talked about "the worst thing that could happen" to anyone. That person said the worst thing was death. But it's not the worst thing that could happen to anyone. It's the only thing that does happen to everyone at some point. There's a time to be born, and a time to die.
So we're all terminal from the moment of our first breath, although none of us likes to think of it that way. But realizing that death is inevitable (and just at an unknown time to us) should not be a depressing thing. It should certainly not rob hope. After all, it's not the loss of life but the loss of hope that is one of the worst things that could happen to someone.
To quote part of a poem that I shared in a post last year:
If hope is false, then surely I guess,
There must be false hopelessness.
What would it mean to have false hopelessness?
Perhaps that indeed it was true hopefullness.
So let's turn it around, or inside out,
Because hope is something we can't live without.
-- Rebecca Libutti, from That's Unacceptable (2001)
Each day we wake up and do what we can, with an instinctive hope in the promise and opportunity of that day. If we think that our days are numbered less than we'd like, it just makes each day more precious and valuable. That's an economic fact -- they call it "supply and demand".
When we pray for a miracle, we do it with hope in the possibility of a miracle. Hope leads to faith, and faith fuels miracles. Even when adversity isn't spared, miracles in many forms surround the experience. I've seen that happen many times.
When life is not as we expected it to be (and really -- whose actually is precisely how they expected it to be?), it shouldn't rob hope. In fact, it is often in the face of disappointment and readjustment that we find new opportunities.
When mortality confronts us with some advance notice, some consider that lucky. When it confronts us suddenly, it is still viewed as lucky in other ways. When this life is over, all that we lose is this life, and that was the plan from the beginning. Even then, I am grateful to know that there is still much to hope for.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
So now the ME spin gets out there!
CNN has invited brain tumor survivors to share their stories online. (Wow -- never thought of doing that before!)
Here's mine:
http://www.ireport.com/docs/DOC-25079
Here's mine:
http://www.ireport.com/docs/DOC-25079
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
One More Tu-mor
As soon as I heard the news last week that Senator Ted Kennedy was hospitalized for a seizure, I wondered if he might have a brain tumor. (Seizures were my presenting symptom, too.) And sure enough, today's news about Senator Kennedy's malignant tumor has been flooding the airwaves (even drowning out the primary election going on today, which is the only good thing about this happening).
Our local Fox news station has some video of Dr. Fink (my miracle-working neuro-oncologist) as she discusses the location of the tumor:
http://www.myfoxdfw.com/myfox/pages/News/Detail?contentId=6585574&version=3&locale=EN-US&layoutCode=VSTY&pageId=3.1.1
I liked Dr. Fink's approach because it is straightforward instead of trying to go for the sensationally devastating.
It's so interesting to see how other news coverage portays things to hype up the negative. Although the specific pathology has not been released yet, it seems like every article I read jumps right to the possibility of glioblastoma. (The kind of tumor that I have.)
I kept reading descriptions about how vile and aggressive glioblastoma is. Things like:
"Average survival can range from less than a year for very advanced and aggressive types — such as glioblastomas..." (MSNBC)
"A glioblastoma is the most common brain tumor that affects adults. It is also the most rapidly growing, malignant tumor of the brain with the shortest survival. Death may occur within months. 'It’s the most malignant, the most aggressive, the tumor of the brain associated with the shortest survival,' said Marc Chamberlain, a professor of neurology and director of the Brain Tumor Program at University of Washington, Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center and the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance." (Fox News)
"Average survival can range from three to five years for moderately severe malignant gliomas to less than a year for very advanced and aggressive types such as glioblastomas." (CNN)
There is a different spin, however:
"Glioblastoma is pretty darn serious, and needs a lot of medical attention and prayer. It's like a sixteen-year-old getting their first driver's license. A year later some might be dead, while some might be working on their next karate belt and hoping for another shot at a Messiah solo. There are wonderful treatments that work to preserve both life and quality of life, and we should support the research that brings us these treatments (and hopefully a cure someday). Average side effects of glioblastoma include increased perspective, diminished pettiness, and a swelling of faith." (ME)
Just to clear the air, I am a staunch Texas conservative and superfan of Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck. When it comes to politics, Senator Kennedy and I are diametrically opposed. But we are both children of the same God, and now we are both survivors with something serious on (what's left of) our minds. I wish him all the best, and pray that he and his family will have all that they need right now. I am sure many are praying for him, and I hope he feels the strengthening support of those prayers, as I have felt.
Our local Fox news station has some video of Dr. Fink (my miracle-working neuro-oncologist) as she discusses the location of the tumor:
http://www.myfoxdfw.com/myfox/pages/News/Detail?contentId=6585574&version=3&locale=EN-US&layoutCode=VSTY&pageId=3.1.1
I liked Dr. Fink's approach because it is straightforward instead of trying to go for the sensationally devastating.
It's so interesting to see how other news coverage portays things to hype up the negative. Although the specific pathology has not been released yet, it seems like every article I read jumps right to the possibility of glioblastoma. (The kind of tumor that I have.)
I kept reading descriptions about how vile and aggressive glioblastoma is. Things like:
"Average survival can range from less than a year for very advanced and aggressive types — such as glioblastomas..." (MSNBC)
"A glioblastoma is the most common brain tumor that affects adults. It is also the most rapidly growing, malignant tumor of the brain with the shortest survival. Death may occur within months. 'It’s the most malignant, the most aggressive, the tumor of the brain associated with the shortest survival,' said Marc Chamberlain, a professor of neurology and director of the Brain Tumor Program at University of Washington, Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center and the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance." (Fox News)
"Average survival can range from three to five years for moderately severe malignant gliomas to less than a year for very advanced and aggressive types such as glioblastomas." (CNN)
There is a different spin, however:
"Glioblastoma is pretty darn serious, and needs a lot of medical attention and prayer. It's like a sixteen-year-old getting their first driver's license. A year later some might be dead, while some might be working on their next karate belt and hoping for another shot at a Messiah solo. There are wonderful treatments that work to preserve both life and quality of life, and we should support the research that brings us these treatments (and hopefully a cure someday). Average side effects of glioblastoma include increased perspective, diminished pettiness, and a swelling of faith." (ME)
Just to clear the air, I am a staunch Texas conservative and superfan of Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck. When it comes to politics, Senator Kennedy and I are diametrically opposed. But we are both children of the same God, and now we are both survivors with something serious on (what's left of) our minds. I wish him all the best, and pray that he and his family will have all that they need right now. I am sure many are praying for him, and I hope he feels the strengthening support of those prayers, as I have felt.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Livestrong Day?
I guess Livestrong Day is like Easter. It may fall on a different date each year.
In the past it has fallen on May 17th, and I just noticed that the Lance Armstrong Foundation celebrated it on May 13th this year.
In the past it has fallen on May 17th, and I just noticed that the Lance Armstrong Foundation celebrated it on May 13th this year.
I've mentioned it before, but May 17th has personal significance. May 17th this year marks a quarter century from the first time I kissed my future husband. It was our third date, and Prince Jared planted his first smooch on me at my doorstep. We were friends for a long time before that, and I had been mooning after him for about six months. I guess he finally decided to be in love with me, too. And it's just gotten better ever since.
So whether or not this is Lance Armstrong's official Livestrong Day, it's kind of mine in a way. I'm lucky to have gotten many more smooches than originally predicted in December 2005.
Monday, May 12, 2008
...and...TWENTY NINE!
Wow -- twenty-nine months!
I'm at that really really short point on the statistical curve as it (hopefully) flattens out for a while. If I go seven more months like this I might reach "long term survivor" status. When I was first diagnosed I thought I'd be really lucky to survive to a point that is now fifteen months back in the distance.
Once in a while something changes in my schedule for the day, and I end up with "found time." I always like to keep things in mind that I can do with those pockets of extra time on my hands -- no matter how small those pockets are.
And here I am with a whole lot of "found time" behind me (and every minute adds to it). I've started taking an inventory of what I have done with that time so far, and what I should be doing. If I had known in December 2005 that I would still be alive and kicking today (literally -- just ask my sensei), would I have done more with this time? Would I have been a lazy bum and done less? Who knows?
Gotta do what we can, while we can. Right now I can drive myself nuts thinking about what to do next with all this "found time".
I prayed a whole lot for this life, and I'm sure that I should give an accounting for what I have done with what I have been given. I feel like one of the servants in the parable of the talents. Whether I get a little bit or a lot doesn't matter as much as what I choose to do with it.
Some things are easy, like hugging my kids and telling my family members how much I love them. We always want one more chance to do that, and I've been blessed with many chances.
Other things are harder and require me to cut out a little circle and write "T U I T T" on it. (Because I'll finally do it when I get "a round TUITT.")
I'll get the scissors and start cutting circles. After all, if I want to try and stretch this out to twenty-nine years, I need to be filling it with a lot of good stuff!
I'm at that really really short point on the statistical curve as it (hopefully) flattens out for a while. If I go seven more months like this I might reach "long term survivor" status. When I was first diagnosed I thought I'd be really lucky to survive to a point that is now fifteen months back in the distance.
Once in a while something changes in my schedule for the day, and I end up with "found time." I always like to keep things in mind that I can do with those pockets of extra time on my hands -- no matter how small those pockets are.
And here I am with a whole lot of "found time" behind me (and every minute adds to it). I've started taking an inventory of what I have done with that time so far, and what I should be doing. If I had known in December 2005 that I would still be alive and kicking today (literally -- just ask my sensei), would I have done more with this time? Would I have been a lazy bum and done less? Who knows?
Gotta do what we can, while we can. Right now I can drive myself nuts thinking about what to do next with all this "found time".
I prayed a whole lot for this life, and I'm sure that I should give an accounting for what I have done with what I have been given. I feel like one of the servants in the parable of the talents. Whether I get a little bit or a lot doesn't matter as much as what I choose to do with it.
Some things are easy, like hugging my kids and telling my family members how much I love them. We always want one more chance to do that, and I've been blessed with many chances.
Other things are harder and require me to cut out a little circle and write "T U I T T" on it. (Because I'll finally do it when I get "a round TUITT.")
I'll get the scissors and start cutting circles. After all, if I want to try and stretch this out to twenty-nine years, I need to be filling it with a lot of good stuff!
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Gonna Whip Cancer
Those who read my blog know that I have a multi-faceted approach to my survival strategy. Those facets include
faith & prayer
friends (especially those who add their own faith and prayers)
family
staying active (in church, at work, and in karate class)
good music
good food
good laughs
and on and on...
Another contributor is my good care; particularly my neuro-oncologist, Dr. Karen Fink. She not only knows the gold standard of care for GBM, but when my tumor became too aggressive for that she had a lot of tricks up her sleeve. Her involvement in research is saving lives, including mine.
I don't know how she does it, because medical insurance does not cover experimental treatments like the ones that worked so well for me. The fact that I was using up over half a million dollars in uncovered chemotherapy never worked its way into our conversations, as she seemed so intently focused on the good results. (And I'm not the only patient in this situation!) Half a million dollars is nothing compared to the value of living days and even years longer than I thought possible. I could never repay what has been done for me. And yet someone has to at least keep funding alive for this life-saving research.
This has been on (what's left of) my mind as I think about how grateful I am for how well things are going. Also on my mind is my friend and fellow Longflicks rocker who is surviving breast cancer that has recently metastasized to her brain. (I had to tease her about quitting trying to compete.)
And it so happens that I have another friend who is a Pampered Chef consultant, AND it so happens that they do fundraisers, AND it so happens that they also have a special "Let's Whip Cancer" program going on this month. I had to jump on this for two reasons:
1. If I host a fundraiser I can have all of the fundraising proceeds go directly to Dr. Fink's research fund. This is one small way to say "thank you" to Dr. Fink.
2. In addition, during the month of May there are some special "Help Whip Cancer" products being offered, and $1 from each one purchased helps support the American Cancer Society's breast cancer education and early detection programs. This is a great way to pay tribute to my survivor friend.
I was a Pampered Chef myself years ago (before my son was born) and I love-love-love their products. I still use my stoneware and cookware and gadgets, and my husband still loves his grilling tools. And their Pantry seasonings are great, too (all natural/no MSG/very yummy). And the cookbooks are awesome, and so on...
I'll end this commercial with a link to a secure website, where you can view and purchase items for this fundraiser online:
http://www.pamperedchef.biz/erlynne?page=products-main&showId=1614774
Remember -- anything purchased from this link will make a contribution to Dr. Fink's cancer research fund. In addition, any of the specially designated "let's whip cancer" products will also contribute to the American Cancer Society's breast cancer programs.
I hope everyone will enjoy helping me whip cancer in a yummy new way!
faith & prayer
friends (especially those who add their own faith and prayers)
family
staying active (in church, at work, and in karate class)
good music
good food
good laughs
and on and on...
Another contributor is my good care; particularly my neuro-oncologist, Dr. Karen Fink. She not only knows the gold standard of care for GBM, but when my tumor became too aggressive for that she had a lot of tricks up her sleeve. Her involvement in research is saving lives, including mine.
I don't know how she does it, because medical insurance does not cover experimental treatments like the ones that worked so well for me. The fact that I was using up over half a million dollars in uncovered chemotherapy never worked its way into our conversations, as she seemed so intently focused on the good results. (And I'm not the only patient in this situation!) Half a million dollars is nothing compared to the value of living days and even years longer than I thought possible. I could never repay what has been done for me. And yet someone has to at least keep funding alive for this life-saving research.
This has been on (what's left of) my mind as I think about how grateful I am for how well things are going. Also on my mind is my friend and fellow Longflicks rocker who is surviving breast cancer that has recently metastasized to her brain. (I had to tease her about quitting trying to compete.)
And it so happens that I have another friend who is a Pampered Chef consultant, AND it so happens that they do fundraisers, AND it so happens that they also have a special "Let's Whip Cancer" program going on this month. I had to jump on this for two reasons:
1. If I host a fundraiser I can have all of the fundraising proceeds go directly to Dr. Fink's research fund. This is one small way to say "thank you" to Dr. Fink.
2. In addition, during the month of May there are some special "Help Whip Cancer" products being offered, and $1 from each one purchased helps support the American Cancer Society's breast cancer education and early detection programs. This is a great way to pay tribute to my survivor friend.
I was a Pampered Chef myself years ago (before my son was born) and I love-love-love their products. I still use my stoneware and cookware and gadgets, and my husband still loves his grilling tools. And their Pantry seasonings are great, too (all natural/no MSG/very yummy). And the cookbooks are awesome, and so on...
I'll end this commercial with a link to a secure website, where you can view and purchase items for this fundraiser online:
http://www.pamperedchef.biz/erlynne?page=products-main&showId=1614774
Remember -- anything purchased from this link will make a contribution to Dr. Fink's cancer research fund. In addition, any of the specially designated "let's whip cancer" products will also contribute to the American Cancer Society's breast cancer programs.
I hope everyone will enjoy helping me whip cancer in a yummy new way!
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
I have ten weeks left...
...until my next MRI! (I had one today!)
There was an abnormality on today's MRI...
...if you consider it abnormal to have things look so good this far out, with no treatment during the past two months! (I wouldn't call it an abnormality -- I'd call it a miracle!)
There is no progress to report...
...and that's good news in cancer world!
So I go into the hospital on Thursday for an overnight stay...
...to escort my son, who is having his tonsils and adenoids removed!
Gotta run...
...from the angry mob of readers! (You prayed for me and I reward you with sick humor!)
((((BIG HUGS AND THANKS FOR HELPING MAKE ANOTHER MIRACLE!!!))))
There was an abnormality on today's MRI...
...if you consider it abnormal to have things look so good this far out, with no treatment during the past two months! (I wouldn't call it an abnormality -- I'd call it a miracle!)
There is no progress to report...
...and that's good news in cancer world!
So I go into the hospital on Thursday for an overnight stay...
...to escort my son, who is having his tonsils and adenoids removed!
Gotta run...
...from the angry mob of readers! (You prayed for me and I reward you with sick humor!)
((((BIG HUGS AND THANKS FOR HELPING MAKE ANOTHER MIRACLE!!!))))
Monday, April 28, 2008
Relaying the Relay
Sometimes insomnia pays off!
Relay For Life started on Friday at 7pm with a little chaos for us late registrants, but by the time the opening ceremony got started it was a lot of fun. I heard my name read aloud during the survivor roll call, and was directed through an arch of screaming cheerleaders who presented me with a medallion, and then it was time to line up for the Survivor Lap around the track. My husband and kids joined me for that lap (I was toward the end of the line, where the Caregiver line started for their lap, so we kinda did both). People cheered us on the sidelines, and it almost made all this cancer stuff worth it. :)
By about 8:30 everyone was walking around the track. Relay starts at dusk, representing the time of cancer diagnosis, when things start to get dark and you think your life is ending.
As the night gets colder and darker, it represents the beginning of cancer treatment, when things seem overwhelming and exhausting. As tired and sick as you feel, you mustn't give up. You could still see people taking turns going around the track, and even in the wee hours of the morning people were having dance parties and soccer games to stay awake.
A couple of hours before dawn you're still really tired, but you know you can make it. Dawn represents the end of treatment, when there is a light at the end of the tunnel and a new day full of possibilities (at least after a good nap).
The description in this analogy seemed more dour than my experience. I've been blessed -- my cancer treatments were a breeze compared to the all-night trek! Of course, I'm memory impaired, so that might be why I think that.
We actually cried uncle and headed home around 5 am, when footballs and soccer balls kept flying into our campsite, followed by teenagers who almost trampled our kids who had finally fallen asleep.
Until then, though, it was a lot of fun. This was my dad's first Relay as a fellow survivor (here we are sporting our purple survivor shirts), and this was the third Relay that my son and I participated in together. I ran into a friend who is a long-term cancer survivor, and we did a lap together. At about 2 a.m. my husband and daughter went close to the stage for the dance party, and before long my daughter was pulled onstage and proclaimed the "cutest dancer". Before I could get close enough with my camera she was back down in the audience again, but I got some great footage:
I finally went to sleep at home around 7:30 am and slept for a whole four hours. We spent Saturday afternoon doing some gardening in the backyard, my husband and I spent some time at the temple Saturday evening, and we all had a great night's sleep Saturday night.
All in all, it was a worthwhile experience. Certainly another life-affirming one. I appreciate those who supported Relay For Life and helped me raise money for the American Cancer Society. Much thanks to the Cooper Aerobics Center and our Cooper Cares team! And here's looking forward to Relay #4 next year!
Until then, though, it was a lot of fun. This was my dad's first Relay as a fellow survivor (here we are sporting our purple survivor shirts), and this was the third Relay that my son and I participated in together. I ran into a friend who is a long-term cancer survivor, and we did a lap together. At about 2 a.m. my husband and daughter went close to the stage for the dance party, and before long my daughter was pulled onstage and proclaimed the "cutest dancer". Before I could get close enough with my camera she was back down in the audience again, but I got some great footage:
I finally went to sleep at home around 7:30 am and slept for a whole four hours. We spent Saturday afternoon doing some gardening in the backyard, my husband and I spent some time at the temple Saturday evening, and we all had a great night's sleep Saturday night.
All in all, it was a worthwhile experience. Certainly another life-affirming one. I appreciate those who supported Relay For Life and helped me raise money for the American Cancer Society. Much thanks to the Cooper Aerobics Center and our Cooper Cares team! And here's looking forward to Relay #4 next year!
Friday, April 25, 2008
Relay # 3!!!
I can't believe it -- my third Relay For Life event is today! (Well, really tonight. It goes from 7pm to 7am -- because cancer never sleeps!)
Relay For Life is something I thought I was lucky to do once. (Yeah, that picture is me on Relay #1.) And then I thought I was really lucky to do a second one, when my youngest brother invited me to join his Blakinator team in Houston's Relay last year. Now here I am, doing a third Relay tonight in McKinney.
I'm on the Cooper Cares team, and I may stick out (literally) among the Cooper Aerobics Center folks, whose professions are devoted to health and fitness. But that's okay -- it's an awesome group. And I just have to remember when I was a lot heavier and felt self-conscious at the gym. I finally realized -- hey, what could people say? "Get some exercise, Fatty," while I'm on the stairclimber?
(I also used that analogy to help a friend who was single and pregnant and felt self-conscious going to church.)
I'm very grateful to the Cooper folks who are participating this year. Relay For Life is a really great event.
And it's my THIRD!!!
For those who want to support Relay For Life, please visit my Relay homepage at:
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Do you hear what I hear?
They say you don't fully appreciate something until it's gone. In my case, something has been gone for two years and I didn't even realize it. That something was my ability to hear.
Today, after a painful labor and delivery process, my ENT was able to finally extract the remaining plug from deep inside my right ear. He showed it to me. It was the size of an earplug, and it was mostly dead skin, mixed with wax and hardened over the last two years in response to the radiation that pummeled the right side of my head during my initial treatment.
When I got in the car to drive home, I noticed that the car was making lots of strange, loud noises. (It was the engine running.) I kept fumbling for the window buttons, because I kept hearing the roar of gusting winds. (It was regular street noise; my windows were closed.) When I got home and pushed the button to close the garage door I was startled by the initial sound, and figured something must be wrong with the motor. (Nah.) As I write this I am astounded by the sound of my fingers clacking on the keyboard. How am I not waking everyone up with this racket?
I talked to my mom on the phone, and she said I wasn't shouting into the phone like I normally do. Conversely, my husband commented that I wasn't whispering when I talked to him, like I normally do when we are in the same room together. Until today I had no idea how loudly or softly I was speaking, because it was all just a mess of vibrations. Now when I talk, I actually hear my voice. It's so weird! It sounds like an echo with some strange person's voice in there. She sounds like she has a cold or something (or maybe she's just getting over the flu).
I realized that whenever we watched a movie at home I always put on the closed captioning. I could always hear the talking, but not well enough to make out the words. It was a subtle thing that I chalked up as bad sound quality, not hearing loss. But now I'm realizing how much my hearing has been impaired all this time, and how much I've been missing, and how good it is to have it restored. One more thing to be thankful for -- ears to hear. Something I thought I had all along, but now I know I have more.
I was so excited, I went out and bought a cd of Mozart music. I've been able to hear (and sing) and thoroughly enjoy music all this time, but now it's a little different and a little better. I can't wait for the next opportunity to sing something.
The joy is tempered somewhat by the fact that my ear is still really super tender. It's allergy season, and this ear can no longer be rubbed when it itches. And when I blew my nose this afternoon, I learned how much pressure that puts on the eardrum, and I also learned that there was, in fact, something even more painful than the procedure in the ENT office this morning. I get to try some sterile anti-inflammatory drops tonight, and I go back in two weeks to see how things are looking. (Or sounding.)
What a strange day! "Surprise -- you've been deaf for two years, and didn't even know it! But you're better now -- how'z that sound?"
And of course, this experience made me (pardon the ear pun) wax philosophical about life. (Everything's a blog topic, it seems -- even nasty ear stuff.) We are so dependent upon the tangible, the tactile, the things we can personally see, hear, touch, or taste. Such dependence makes our reasoning infantile and limited, because we go through life partially blind and deaf, thinking we can see and hear it all, but being completely oblivious to the full range of possibilities.
I recently heard a critic of my faith demand some kind of "proof". I have seen friends struggle with disappointment and grief, not understanding "why" something so unfair and senseless has happened to them. I have listened to people express fears about the future, because they can't see far enough to know what will happen to them. Their universe is restricted to what they can personally perceive and reason in the here and now, and it diminishes their ability to experience a fulness of possibilities.
Suddenly I'm hearing Barbra Streisand in Yentl:
She goes on, and then later she concludes, "With all there is, why settle for just a piece of sky?"
Why live in fear and doubt and limitation because we rely on our own little piece of sky? No wonder the scriptures teach us to avoid trusting in the arm of flesh. (In my case it was the "ear of flesh!")
"When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves. Wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not." (2 Nephi 9:28)
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord..." (Isaiah 55:8)
"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding..." (Proverbs 3:5)
"Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not..." (Doctrine & Covenants 6:36)
"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." (John 14:27)
Now that I have a better sense of hearing I can appreciate how much I had lost, and how much better things can sound. It was previously beyond my comprehension. Likewise, at times when I have turned parts of my life over to the Lord (whose perception is infinitely more broad than my own) I have come to recognize possibilities and blessings that were previously beyond my comprehension. Those experiences build hope and faith in times that would otherwise be ripe with fear and despair.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound...
Today, after a painful labor and delivery process, my ENT was able to finally extract the remaining plug from deep inside my right ear. He showed it to me. It was the size of an earplug, and it was mostly dead skin, mixed with wax and hardened over the last two years in response to the radiation that pummeled the right side of my head during my initial treatment.
When I got in the car to drive home, I noticed that the car was making lots of strange, loud noises. (It was the engine running.) I kept fumbling for the window buttons, because I kept hearing the roar of gusting winds. (It was regular street noise; my windows were closed.) When I got home and pushed the button to close the garage door I was startled by the initial sound, and figured something must be wrong with the motor. (Nah.) As I write this I am astounded by the sound of my fingers clacking on the keyboard. How am I not waking everyone up with this racket?
I talked to my mom on the phone, and she said I wasn't shouting into the phone like I normally do. Conversely, my husband commented that I wasn't whispering when I talked to him, like I normally do when we are in the same room together. Until today I had no idea how loudly or softly I was speaking, because it was all just a mess of vibrations. Now when I talk, I actually hear my voice. It's so weird! It sounds like an echo with some strange person's voice in there. She sounds like she has a cold or something (or maybe she's just getting over the flu).
I realized that whenever we watched a movie at home I always put on the closed captioning. I could always hear the talking, but not well enough to make out the words. It was a subtle thing that I chalked up as bad sound quality, not hearing loss. But now I'm realizing how much my hearing has been impaired all this time, and how much I've been missing, and how good it is to have it restored. One more thing to be thankful for -- ears to hear. Something I thought I had all along, but now I know I have more.
I was so excited, I went out and bought a cd of Mozart music. I've been able to hear (and sing) and thoroughly enjoy music all this time, but now it's a little different and a little better. I can't wait for the next opportunity to sing something.
The joy is tempered somewhat by the fact that my ear is still really super tender. It's allergy season, and this ear can no longer be rubbed when it itches. And when I blew my nose this afternoon, I learned how much pressure that puts on the eardrum, and I also learned that there was, in fact, something even more painful than the procedure in the ENT office this morning. I get to try some sterile anti-inflammatory drops tonight, and I go back in two weeks to see how things are looking. (Or sounding.)
What a strange day! "Surprise -- you've been deaf for two years, and didn't even know it! But you're better now -- how'z that sound?"
And of course, this experience made me (pardon the ear pun) wax philosophical about life. (Everything's a blog topic, it seems -- even nasty ear stuff.) We are so dependent upon the tangible, the tactile, the things we can personally see, hear, touch, or taste. Such dependence makes our reasoning infantile and limited, because we go through life partially blind and deaf, thinking we can see and hear it all, but being completely oblivious to the full range of possibilities.
I recently heard a critic of my faith demand some kind of "proof". I have seen friends struggle with disappointment and grief, not understanding "why" something so unfair and senseless has happened to them. I have listened to people express fears about the future, because they can't see far enough to know what will happen to them. Their universe is restricted to what they can personally perceive and reason in the here and now, and it diminishes their ability to experience a fulness of possibilities.
Suddenly I'm hearing Barbra Streisand in Yentl:
It all began the day I found
That from my window I could only see a piece of sky.
I stepped outside and looked around.
I never dreamed it was so wide, or even half as high...
She goes on, and then later she concludes, "With all there is, why settle for just a piece of sky?"
Why live in fear and doubt and limitation because we rely on our own little piece of sky? No wonder the scriptures teach us to avoid trusting in the arm of flesh. (In my case it was the "ear of flesh!")
"When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves. Wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not." (2 Nephi 9:28)
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord..." (Isaiah 55:8)
"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding..." (Proverbs 3:5)
"Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not..." (Doctrine & Covenants 6:36)
"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." (John 14:27)
Now that I have a better sense of hearing I can appreciate how much I had lost, and how much better things can sound. It was previously beyond my comprehension. Likewise, at times when I have turned parts of my life over to the Lord (whose perception is infinitely more broad than my own) I have come to recognize possibilities and blessings that were previously beyond my comprehension. Those experiences build hope and faith in times that would otherwise be ripe with fear and despair.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound...
Sunday, April 13, 2008
...and TWENTY-EIGHT!
Those who know me well know that my ultimate favorite movie of all time is Gone With the Wind, but once in a while I swerve into other movie obsessions.
My latest, Amadeus, is a throwback to my college years, when it was fairly new and we had to watch it for music appreciation class at BYU. I loved it back then, and it recently came back into my nostalgia movie lineup. So now when I am staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night I keep reliving Mozart music from the movie. I just tell myself that the music is therapeutic to my brain (hopefully counteracting the deleterious effects of sleep deprivation).
There is a scene in the movie where Mozart is trying to persuade the emperor of Vienna to permit him to proceed with his opera, "The Marriage of Figaro." He describes a unique part of the opera, and asks the emperor to guess how long he can sustain it:
"Guess! Guess, Majesty. Imagine the longest time such a thing could last, then double it!"
Along with the music, that line from the movie keeps resonating in (what's left of) my mind. Because if we take the best-case median survival of a GBM patient at the time I was diagnosed (14 months, based on the Temodar drug study) --then double it -- and add one day -- that's where I am! Twenty-eight months and counting. This experience has been masterfully composed by Someone much better than Mozart.
Twenty-eight months, and all I have to worry about before my next MRI is this nasty flu and a blocked ear and a record streak of insomnia . (Think of how long a person can go without sleep and double that, too, I guess -- you'd think I'd have another book written by now!)
Friday, April 11, 2008
Aww...FLU-eey!
My son tested positive for flu yesterday -- his second one this season, despite flu shots for our whole family. This explains why my sinus infection hasn't cleared up as fast as I'd have liked -- I must have it, too. Luckily my fever is finally on the way down, while his is up. My husband came home from work early yesterday with fever and flu symptoms, too, and our daughter seems to be next in line. There's nothing like a house filled with flu to bring a family together.
We had a moment of excitement in the middle of the night when our son had a bad reaction to the Tamiflu he was prescribed. He came running into our room, screaming and delusional -- and sound asleep. It was freaky. He had several major night terrors, so the Tamiflu went down the drain. He'll have to ride out the flu the old-fashioned way like we do -- homemade chicken soup and lots of rest and fluids.
Speaking of fluids, it's kind of gross but funny -- as I cleaned his vomit off the kitchen floor yesterday I automatically remembered our childless days, when I would fantasize about such an opportunity to care for a sick child of my own. I realized it was a privilege.
It reminded me of an earlier realization that I'm sure I've blogged about before. But I shared it today with my son as we were both feeling miserable. I explained that we were born into this world to receive a body, and although we knew it was one that would get sick and hurt and eventually die, we shouted for joy at the idea (Job 38:7). The evil spirits who were willing to enter into swine (Mark 5:3) are a reminder of how lucky we are to have an earthly home (albeit an imperfect one) for our spirits. Like a cute little kid who throws up in my kitchen, having a body that can get flu or cancer or night terrors is a privilege.
When we feel sick and hurt we can remember that we were happy to get to have these bodies, and after we die we will look forward to a resurrected body that will not have to deal with illness or pain or death ever again.
And our kitchen floors will probably be easier to keep clean.
We had a moment of excitement in the middle of the night when our son had a bad reaction to the Tamiflu he was prescribed. He came running into our room, screaming and delusional -- and sound asleep. It was freaky. He had several major night terrors, so the Tamiflu went down the drain. He'll have to ride out the flu the old-fashioned way like we do -- homemade chicken soup and lots of rest and fluids.
Speaking of fluids, it's kind of gross but funny -- as I cleaned his vomit off the kitchen floor yesterday I automatically remembered our childless days, when I would fantasize about such an opportunity to care for a sick child of my own. I realized it was a privilege.
It reminded me of an earlier realization that I'm sure I've blogged about before. But I shared it today with my son as we were both feeling miserable. I explained that we were born into this world to receive a body, and although we knew it was one that would get sick and hurt and eventually die, we shouted for joy at the idea (Job 38:7). The evil spirits who were willing to enter into swine (Mark 5:3) are a reminder of how lucky we are to have an earthly home (albeit an imperfect one) for our spirits. Like a cute little kid who throws up in my kitchen, having a body that can get flu or cancer or night terrors is a privilege.
When we feel sick and hurt we can remember that we were happy to get to have these bodies, and after we die we will look forward to a resurrected body that will not have to deal with illness or pain or death ever again.
And our kitchen floors will probably be easier to keep clean.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Okay, now I'm REALLY sick!
I thought cancer was a challenge. (It really is.) But I have mercifully not felt very "sick" in a long time. In fact, when my husband and kids get sick I always joke about being the only healthy one in the house, because I "just" have cancer.
Until this week.
Apparently my body can handle cancer and chemotherapy for more than 2 years, but give it a little sinus infection, and I'm down for the count! (Did I miss karate class when I had chemo and they blew a vein in my arm? No. Did I miss karate class last night? You betcha!)
I also became a medical hot potato.
Monday night I came down with sinus congestion/drainage and coughing with high fever and chills. My husband called our bishop, and together they gave me a priesthood blessing, which really helped me get a good night's rest.
On Tuesday I had an appointment with an ear/nose/throat specialist to take care of my right ear (which is completely blocked with 2 years' worth of wax and dried skin debris -- a natural reaction to the radiation treatments). While I was getting my ear sandblasted I mentioned the ongoing fever and sinus congestion/drainage. The ENT doctor immediately waved it aside as a matter for my general practitioner. (I guess he thought my sinuses were in my elbow or something else outside of his Ear/Nose/Throat domain.)
As soon as I left the ENT's office I called my general practitioner, who was already gone for the day. (It was not quite 3:00.) The best his office could do was make an appointment for the following day. ("But I have a fever of 102. Can you call and have him phone in a prescription?" "We can call him, but he'll just tell you to see him in the morning.")
I then called my neuro-oncologist's office, but everyone was out, and I was reminded by the receptionist that they would have referred me to my general practitioner anyway.
So off I went to my local urgent care facility ("Doc-in-a-Box"), where I was seen by a nurse practitioner who treated me like I was radioactive as soon as she saw "cancer" on my chart. I used to be on chemotherapy, so I am obviously immunosuppressed and should get a chest x-ray to check for pneumonia because I coughed. (No, I've been vaccinated against pneumonia, and I've been off chemotherapy for over a month now, and my last labwork was great -- I'm not immunosuppressed. And I don't want unnecessary radiation -- I get enough from my cell phone. And I'm certain that the cough might have something to do with the massive sinus drainage that keeps my head from exploding).
I was finally diagnosed with a sinus infection -- in my NASAL SINUSES (which made even the Doc-in-a-Box people scratch their heads about the ENT not wanting to get involved). They were afraid to prescribe me an antibiotic because I'm "already on SO many medications." (Not really -- just my seizure medicine and a prescription B-complex supplement.) After much consultation with the M.D. who runs the place, they finally decided on a really powerful antibiotic with all kinds of nasty side effects (nightmares and other neurological problems that I already need to be careful about, kidney failure, and probably leprosy and ugly toes, too). No, they didn't want to prescribe the antibiotic I've safely used before, because it only works well for upper respiratory infections (you mean, like sinus infections?) and the scary antibiotic also covers pneumonia in case I have it (BUT I DON'T HAVE IT).
By evening I finally had the right antibiotic in hand, so hopefully soon I'll be on the mend and back to worrying about important things like fighting cancer.
Actually, the one nice thing about this experience was seeing the look on the ENT's face when he read my new patient history form and asked me about the kind of tumor I had. When I told him, he said with astonishment, "You've had that for nearly 2 1/2 years?" I nodded and acknowledged that I was a walking miracle, and yes I already knew that 2/3 of patients supposedly die the first year. He shook his head and said, "More like 90 percent."
Who knows where he got that number. Maybe that statistic doesn't factor in things like prayer and Dr. Fink and the Lord's timetable. I also wonder how much of that 90 percent comes from:
Until this week.
Apparently my body can handle cancer and chemotherapy for more than 2 years, but give it a little sinus infection, and I'm down for the count! (Did I miss karate class when I had chemo and they blew a vein in my arm? No. Did I miss karate class last night? You betcha!)
I also became a medical hot potato.
Monday night I came down with sinus congestion/drainage and coughing with high fever and chills. My husband called our bishop, and together they gave me a priesthood blessing, which really helped me get a good night's rest.
On Tuesday I had an appointment with an ear/nose/throat specialist to take care of my right ear (which is completely blocked with 2 years' worth of wax and dried skin debris -- a natural reaction to the radiation treatments). While I was getting my ear sandblasted I mentioned the ongoing fever and sinus congestion/drainage. The ENT doctor immediately waved it aside as a matter for my general practitioner. (I guess he thought my sinuses were in my elbow or something else outside of his Ear/Nose/Throat domain.)
As soon as I left the ENT's office I called my general practitioner, who was already gone for the day. (It was not quite 3:00.) The best his office could do was make an appointment for the following day. ("But I have a fever of 102. Can you call and have him phone in a prescription?" "We can call him, but he'll just tell you to see him in the morning.")
I then called my neuro-oncologist's office, but everyone was out, and I was reminded by the receptionist that they would have referred me to my general practitioner anyway.
So off I went to my local urgent care facility ("Doc-in-a-Box"), where I was seen by a nurse practitioner who treated me like I was radioactive as soon as she saw "cancer" on my chart. I used to be on chemotherapy, so I am obviously immunosuppressed and should get a chest x-ray to check for pneumonia because I coughed. (No, I've been vaccinated against pneumonia, and I've been off chemotherapy for over a month now, and my last labwork was great -- I'm not immunosuppressed. And I don't want unnecessary radiation -- I get enough from my cell phone. And I'm certain that the cough might have something to do with the massive sinus drainage that keeps my head from exploding).
I was finally diagnosed with a sinus infection -- in my NASAL SINUSES (which made even the Doc-in-a-Box people scratch their heads about the ENT not wanting to get involved). They were afraid to prescribe me an antibiotic because I'm "already on SO many medications." (Not really -- just my seizure medicine and a prescription B-complex supplement.) After much consultation with the M.D. who runs the place, they finally decided on a really powerful antibiotic with all kinds of nasty side effects (nightmares and other neurological problems that I already need to be careful about, kidney failure, and probably leprosy and ugly toes, too). No, they didn't want to prescribe the antibiotic I've safely used before, because it only works well for upper respiratory infections (you mean, like sinus infections?) and the scary antibiotic also covers pneumonia in case I have it (BUT I DON'T HAVE IT).
By evening I finally had the right antibiotic in hand, so hopefully soon I'll be on the mend and back to worrying about important things like fighting cancer.
Actually, the one nice thing about this experience was seeing the look on the ENT's face when he read my new patient history form and asked me about the kind of tumor I had. When I told him, he said with astonishment, "You've had that for nearly 2 1/2 years?" I nodded and acknowledged that I was a walking miracle, and yes I already knew that 2/3 of patients supposedly die the first year. He shook his head and said, "More like 90 percent."
Who knows where he got that number. Maybe that statistic doesn't factor in things like prayer and Dr. Fink and the Lord's timetable. I also wonder how much of that 90 percent comes from:
- medical hot potatoes that get dropped
- nasty side effects of over-vigilant antibiotic administration to cure non-existent pneumonia
- exsanguination (bleeding to death) or infection from excessive head scratching or hair pulling
- high blood pressure, aneurysm, stroke -- whatever -- during periods of peak frustration
- car accidents during excessive travel around the medical community
- concussions from being "bounced" between doctors
- complications from untreated sinus infections or other ills that put cancer patients squarely into the medical community's "no man's land."
In any case, I am truly blessed. As a friend of mine said, we need to keep the "prayer garlic" around our necks to keep warding off the real threats to my life (and she's right) but I also intersperse those prayers with prayers of gratitude for the miracles that have preserved and blessed my life for another season.
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