I've surprised myself with how raw all of this feels. I think part of it is that the information keeps trickling in over several days. I'm reactive at baseline. I get news, I react to it (not always well), I process it, I pull it together, I move on. However, this trickling in of details has me processing minute-by-minute and over and over again with each passing hour/day. You keep asking me how I am feeling. And I don't even know how to reply. Some moments, I am perfectly normal. And other moments, I'm teary eyed and full of doubt. I think if I could just hear "Sally, you have lung fibrosis and it is the progressive kind", I would react to and then process that and then be back to my peaceful deal-with-it self. Or if I could hear "Sally, you have lung fibrosis, but at this very moment it's as bad as it will ever be" I would process that and dive back into every day packing-up-my-house kind-of-life. The waiting, the trickling, has me re-feeling every nuance with each new test result or conversation. Four more immunology labs came back negative. (If you are playing fantasy fibrosis that brings the score to 2 positives, 8 negatives, and a field goal of fibrosis.) I feel awful waiting to open a new result up. I feel fine after I do. With the new 4 negatives, Ron and I looked at each other and mentally gave each other a high five. It's as we had accomplished some Mount Everest Trek feat. I somehow produced a "negative" on a lab result. Wow, I am top notch!
The potential severity and implications of a bad form of fibrosis creates the raw fear. With a malignancy (caught early) you dive in with the therapy you need and hopes of response. Time may change the level of hope in either direction, but you have some level of hope when you start. It's this lack of cure, or potential for lung transplant, that has my bumble all in a jumble. Tell me I've got radiation induced fibrosis that doesn't progress, I've got it. I can do that. No problem. We all have ailments. We all know there is toxicity to be expected from cancer treatments. I just simply don't want to hear the next words we are waiting for.... what kind and how will this progress.
I've given you the straight forward facts of all of this mumbo jumbo. I've laid out the medical jargon as I know it. One friend actually thanked me for the medical lecture. That made me chuckle. I haven't yet fully dived into the emotions of all of this, but I think it is important for those of you facing similar boats in your future. If there is anything I know from sharing bad news with others or receiving bad news myself, it's that it is crucial to maintain hope. Once hope is gone, you've basically lost the ballgame. Everyone wants options. We need to know there is something else to try, something left up the sleeve for later use. We need to know that even with 99% chance of death, that there is 1% chance you will survive. That 1% can set the pace for the rest of time. It's so strategically aligned with perspective. Debbie downers tend to fair far worse in medical studies. Optimistic Olivias can drastically change time lines. The mind is the most powerful medication or procedure in use. It can cure tumors. It can bring about disease. It is the master of it's own domain. It truly can be a game changer. So when you get faced with a malignancy (or anything else detrimental), you want to hear you have options you can try and that you can choose, or not choose, to know you gave it your all. You simply want the option.With disease states with no cures and a progressive timeline, it can feel as though you've lost choice. You learn you have no say so and the hope for cure is no where to be found. It doesn't remove spiritual hope, but certainly changes the landscape of physical hope. The spiritual gets you through life, the physical is crucial for that individual moment. Too bad we don't carry around physical hope in a bottle to sprinkle on circumstance. And praise God that Christ brings the spiritual hope to get you though it. Even when you know death is coming (physical hope is gone), spiritual hope can restore peace.
The emotions being used here to describe my current situation are drastic. Meaning, I recognize I am starring at all kinds of physical hope because I am more likely to have the good kind than the bad kind of fibrosis (surely), I simply mention them for extrapolation into life's circumstances as all of us will face moving forward. We all are facing some giant. The most difficult journeys are most often the private ones not displayed on a computer screen. I am aware there are a whole set of new emotions I may feel if I get a poor diagnosis in upcoming weeks, but for the here and now, during this trickle-in-of-information time frame, I simply feel volatile. The fibrosis part doesn't even bother me anymore ( a full 4 days later; see that's volatile), but trust me, it did earlier this week. I was a basket case waiting for the diagnosis because it was an unknown. But I now know I have fibrosis. Now it is a known. I've got it. Done! Let's go decorate my Christmas tree! But I still dread opening a new test result for fear of what "chip at hope" outcome it may bring. An unopened test is an unknown. Once I get over the opening part, it becomes a known. I just want to know...whatever there is to know. Then, we adjust and move forward in some manner and time frame. Twenty-two hours of my day, I am good to go. The other 2 fluctuate based on what I just learned or what I see waiting for me to learn in my inbox. In those 2 hours I am fearful, I am sad, I am anxious, I am doubting, I am less physically hopeful. But I praise God in every moment that I have spiritual hope to keep me afloat, despite circumstance. I imagine you can relate quite well if you reflect back to one of your own circumstances. You remember well the loneliness of a diagnosis when the rest of life is moving forward around you at break neck speed. And you recall the days when you feel like you are right in the middle of a heart-breaking Steel Magnolias moment. But you also know the hysterical moment of when M'Lynn slaps Ouiser (Weezie) is coming in the next frame. There is always something coming and there is always a Truvy Jones to get you through it.
We all spend some time as humpty dumpty sitting on that emotional wall, We wobble too and fro in the middle of the moment, we teeter and we totter with the passing wind, but in the end most of us refuse to fall down. We simply find a new way to balance and find a new center of gravity. This is me, waiting for my new center of gravity. Then we grab hold and face life with this new set point. I once walked in fear of mastectomy. Now I wouldn't change that experience for anything. Lymphoma grounded me, mastectomy grew me....and fibrosis, well, we just have to wait and see what it it brings.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
December 10, 2015 - Rosy Fog-filled Glasses
I can definitely say this is an evolving story. We still have results and opinions coming back and with each one your brain rapidly shifts in a new direction. I imagine that is my fear playing out. It definitely has my attention. To catch you up on events between now and last Monday, yesterday we had our house inspection on the house we are purchasing. As I reach for my phone in the middle of the inspection, I start to see test results coming back in. There sits the scan in my inbox waiting for me. I was torn between opening the results and getting great news and awareness of opening the results and 12/09/15 turning into a day of before and after. I let them sit there for over an hour unread, but plaguing my every thought. Enough was enough, I couldn’t concentrate anymore. I grabbed my phone and went to my car and opened the scan report.
We now know the following:
• The CT results did show mild fibrosis in the upper portion of the lungs.
• The CT also showed a small lung nodule (likely not even worth mentioning as nodules are known to appear and go away without any intervention. They are seen all the time on scans.)
• The CT showed a few other things that likely have no relevance here (a small splenic splenule, some notes about the location of some of the great vessels, etc)
• The CT showed I do in fact have breast implants. I can now prove that Lead Plastic surgeon did in fact what he said he did in the last 6 surgeries. It gave me a chuckle when I was climbing on the CT scan table to tell the tech “hey FYI, in case you need to know because I never know when people do need to know…I have had a mastectomy and have breast implants.” Well, she evidently didn’t need to know.
You will be happy to know I kept it together quite nicely. I guess I kind of deep down knew they would see fibrosis. It just made sense that they would with my symptoms and history. I was able to drive back to the inspection ( I had left to go pick up Ron's phone) and enter back into the house with smile in tow. It wasn't until later, when I told Ron, that I had tearful moments. And then again when I typed it out to my family and prayer warriors. I may be stoic some times, but i'm a sucker when relaying emotional news to my family.
We also now know (12 hours later):
• As we were suspecting fibrosis as a possibility (and now proven by the CT scan) we had also sent off labs to check for an auto-immune process. In the last 24 hours, two of those labs came back positive.
Honestly, this new finding got under my skin. Albeit, the slugger is that this specific test can be positive in any autoimmune process/disease (lupus, sjogren’s, scleroderma). It can also be positive in idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. The titer result was "low" and not severe, so I have that going for me. So while we want to trust that this fibrosis is radiation induced, we have a family history and now a positive immune marker that is muddying the waters. Earlier I was 100% sure in my mind this had to be radiation induced. I’ve had massive amounts of chest radiation. Radiation causes fibrosis. I have fibrosis.
I’ve reached out to Delightful Fibrosis Guru (DFG), I guess she now deserves to have her own name, and I get the impression she is a little baffled too. We both had hoped the CT would come back negative, and instead maybe I was dealing with an asthma process. Now that the CT came back positive, I am sure we were both hopeful the lab markers would be negative so we could more assuredly point to radiation induced fibrosis. She keeps saying my history is complicated and that she isn’t sure what to make of things yet. My grandfather having had fibrosis complicates the picture, and my suspected history (though biopsy negative) of sjogren’s syndrome complicates the picture further as it can also cause pulmonary fibrosis. In efforts to cover all bases and perspectives, DFG has decided to take my case to the pulmonary rounds this week where the experts from pathology, radiology, and pulmonary disease come together to discuss complicated cases. She continues to be delightful, and I am grateful for her thorough approach.
I’m truly hopeful the lab marker is positive for some separate process and not an indicator of idiopathic/immunologic fibrosis which is a ballgame changer. And if it is radiation induced, like I truly want it to be, I still don’t have a full grasp on what that will mean in the long run. Has it just started and is still evolving? Has it been going on for years (as I have had asthma symptoms since college)? Is it going to progress? Has it already peaked? Just a lot of unknowns right now. Are you completely confused yet?
So where does this leave me: we have a diagnosis (fibrosis); we now have a positive immune marker (do I have sjogren’s as some physicians have suspected? do I have something else? do I have nothing and it is inconsequential?) And what is causing the fibrosis (Radiation induced? Idiopathic?)? And where is this going and at what pace? The very last thing I want is for this blog to become "Trading in the Airbags". We just don't have time for such nonsense.
It also leaves me feeling a little out of sorts. It’s moving at a fast pace with labs coming back day by day, but also very slowly as a lot of the results alone aren’t leading us anywhere. You also know I am an instant gratifier so this waiting game is for the birds. I am beyond grateful to have DFG leading the way for me and pulling in the expert minds. I still want to be very confident this is radiation induced, and maybe the damage has peaked and I will be left with just these symptoms and nothing more. I won’t lie though, it’s hard to focus. I have on my rosy glasses but they have intermittent fogging. I do have peace in the overall journey (I know blessings are already here and still coming), yet I am also cognizant that there may be some other emotions coming to play. It’s also smack in the middle of our house sell and purchase. I have boxes up to my rosy fog filled glasses and lots of paper work crossing the screen. It’s busy, and we are tired, and all of this fibrosis stuff makes each day of balancing life, house, and work a little more cumbersome.
That’s all I’ve got for now. It’s a story being played out sentence by sentence. He is the master of my story, so I know it will be worth telling. Anxiously awaiting what Act 2 will bring. And because I need to be reminded daily…… “The blessing of God is not the absence of trials, but rather the glory of God through them.” Let’s all say that 3 times together.
(P.S. I'm very grateful for all of your encouraging words through texts and emails and FB posts. Forgive me if I didn't get back to someone yet. It's incredible to have an army of warriors to do life with. This still may all turn out to be trivial, but the journey along the way feels very raw, and you make it less so.)
We now know the following:
• The CT results did show mild fibrosis in the upper portion of the lungs.
• The CT also showed a small lung nodule (likely not even worth mentioning as nodules are known to appear and go away without any intervention. They are seen all the time on scans.)
• The CT showed a few other things that likely have no relevance here (a small splenic splenule, some notes about the location of some of the great vessels, etc)
• The CT showed I do in fact have breast implants. I can now prove that Lead Plastic surgeon did in fact what he said he did in the last 6 surgeries. It gave me a chuckle when I was climbing on the CT scan table to tell the tech “hey FYI, in case you need to know because I never know when people do need to know…I have had a mastectomy and have breast implants.” Well, she evidently didn’t need to know.
You will be happy to know I kept it together quite nicely. I guess I kind of deep down knew they would see fibrosis. It just made sense that they would with my symptoms and history. I was able to drive back to the inspection ( I had left to go pick up Ron's phone) and enter back into the house with smile in tow. It wasn't until later, when I told Ron, that I had tearful moments. And then again when I typed it out to my family and prayer warriors. I may be stoic some times, but i'm a sucker when relaying emotional news to my family.
We also now know (12 hours later):
• As we were suspecting fibrosis as a possibility (and now proven by the CT scan) we had also sent off labs to check for an auto-immune process. In the last 24 hours, two of those labs came back positive.
Honestly, this new finding got under my skin. Albeit, the slugger is that this specific test can be positive in any autoimmune process/disease (lupus, sjogren’s, scleroderma). It can also be positive in idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. The titer result was "low" and not severe, so I have that going for me. So while we want to trust that this fibrosis is radiation induced, we have a family history and now a positive immune marker that is muddying the waters. Earlier I was 100% sure in my mind this had to be radiation induced. I’ve had massive amounts of chest radiation. Radiation causes fibrosis. I have fibrosis.
I’ve reached out to Delightful Fibrosis Guru (DFG), I guess she now deserves to have her own name, and I get the impression she is a little baffled too. We both had hoped the CT would come back negative, and instead maybe I was dealing with an asthma process. Now that the CT came back positive, I am sure we were both hopeful the lab markers would be negative so we could more assuredly point to radiation induced fibrosis. She keeps saying my history is complicated and that she isn’t sure what to make of things yet. My grandfather having had fibrosis complicates the picture, and my suspected history (though biopsy negative) of sjogren’s syndrome complicates the picture further as it can also cause pulmonary fibrosis. In efforts to cover all bases and perspectives, DFG has decided to take my case to the pulmonary rounds this week where the experts from pathology, radiology, and pulmonary disease come together to discuss complicated cases. She continues to be delightful, and I am grateful for her thorough approach.
I’m truly hopeful the lab marker is positive for some separate process and not an indicator of idiopathic/immunologic fibrosis which is a ballgame changer. And if it is radiation induced, like I truly want it to be, I still don’t have a full grasp on what that will mean in the long run. Has it just started and is still evolving? Has it been going on for years (as I have had asthma symptoms since college)? Is it going to progress? Has it already peaked? Just a lot of unknowns right now. Are you completely confused yet?
So where does this leave me: we have a diagnosis (fibrosis); we now have a positive immune marker (do I have sjogren’s as some physicians have suspected? do I have something else? do I have nothing and it is inconsequential?) And what is causing the fibrosis (Radiation induced? Idiopathic?)? And where is this going and at what pace? The very last thing I want is for this blog to become "Trading in the Airbags". We just don't have time for such nonsense.
It also leaves me feeling a little out of sorts. It’s moving at a fast pace with labs coming back day by day, but also very slowly as a lot of the results alone aren’t leading us anywhere. You also know I am an instant gratifier so this waiting game is for the birds. I am beyond grateful to have DFG leading the way for me and pulling in the expert minds. I still want to be very confident this is radiation induced, and maybe the damage has peaked and I will be left with just these symptoms and nothing more. I won’t lie though, it’s hard to focus. I have on my rosy glasses but they have intermittent fogging. I do have peace in the overall journey (I know blessings are already here and still coming), yet I am also cognizant that there may be some other emotions coming to play. It’s also smack in the middle of our house sell and purchase. I have boxes up to my rosy fog filled glasses and lots of paper work crossing the screen. It’s busy, and we are tired, and all of this fibrosis stuff makes each day of balancing life, house, and work a little more cumbersome.
That’s all I’ve got for now. It’s a story being played out sentence by sentence. He is the master of my story, so I know it will be worth telling. Anxiously awaiting what Act 2 will bring. And because I need to be reminded daily…… “The blessing of God is not the absence of trials, but rather the glory of God through them.” Let’s all say that 3 times together.
(P.S. I'm very grateful for all of your encouraging words through texts and emails and FB posts. Forgive me if I didn't get back to someone yet. It's incredible to have an army of warriors to do life with. This still may all turn out to be trivial, but the journey along the way feels very raw, and you make it less so.)
December 8, 2015 - It's not the absence of trials
“The blessing of God is not the absence of trials, but rather the glory of God through them.”
Wow. I probably should stop right there and not type another word. Isn't that powerful? Isn't that focusing? Isn't that...hard to claim in the middle of the moment? I’ve eluded before that I often find myself in a state of entitlement expecting God to shower me with blessings, of my choosing, and blessings of my expected quantity, quality and value. It’s as if I am the only one who can define what meets criteria to be further labeled as “blessing” instead of trusting in his plan.
There is a piece of my story I have not yet shared publicly. A piece that in this very moment is still unfolding. It's new and frightening with one option being manageable, and the other option being shattering. “Blessing” is still yet to be grasped and claimed. I've been private about it because quite honestly I didn't want to utter the words for fear of what would come. I was sorting and juggling a rash of emotions that felt better left untyped. But more recently as I have been meditating on this quote, I quickly find myself shifting to the pursuit of discovering his blessing despite outcome as his glory is entirely more relevant than my longevity. My story, in reflection of and in spite of each individual sentence composing the narrative, is for him to define and for me to be blessed in and through. Facing trials with grace and peace becomes so much more attainable when I claim this revelation. But let me say, it took a very long month of November living in fear and doubt to come to this inner peace that is approaching my horizon. The story is still unfolding. This story is a reminder of life after malignancy. And this story is an example of how fear can grip you, when you don't even know the outcome yet. But I hope later this story will be a reflection of growth in my heart, no matter what the outcome.
Ron and I were standing in the check-in line at her office. Her office carried a very different atmosphere than the breast clinic. It told a different story. Wheel chairs more prevalent than not. Oxygen tanks flanking each side, instead of breast drains. The room felt less “hopeful” and more aware of current state, or so as I perceived. The line was moving slowly so Ron went to grab a pair of chairs in the now crowded space while I continued to wait. It only took 30 seconds after the young man went by with his equally young wife in the wheel chair for me to see the water pool in my vision. My heart was breaking for the occupants of this room, who did not have advocates of pink ribbons and benefit walks pushing them forward, and my heart was fearful for self and the “what ifs” that now plague my thoughts. I had spent the last month both craving this day (for knowledge and potential hopeful news) and dreading this day (for potential very bad news). I had spent nights in tears out of "what ifs" and I had spent days with all consuming thoughts. The potential had engulfed my being. I glanced up to see the sign above the check in desk: Heart and Lung Transplant Clinic. And now I was standing, after a month of turmoil, in this room, in this line, next to be checked in.
It was found during routine follow-up testing for my lymphoma of 25 years previous. You will recall I had scheduled dermatology (check!), colonoscopy (upcoming), cardiac (check!) and pulmonology testing (ongoing). Remember, we aren't simply survivors but rather in a continual process of surviving. It was the pesky pulmonology that stumped my traversing toe. Breathing tests suggested a restrictive process, suggestive of the development of fibrosis. As it turns out, after much reading, pulmonary fibrosis turns out to be a much bigger bird than I thought. Knowing my radiation history, it was plausible that I have developed radiation-induce pulmonary fibrosis, though there is another form, “immunologic” and/or “idiopathic”, that would have to be considered. Regardless of the cause, the physical changes are consistent: a scarring of the lung that reduces lung volume and inhibits oxygenation. While the physical changes are similar the progression and outcomes can be drastically different.
In the case of radiation induced, it is thought that the damage occurs but that the damage does not progress. Meaning, once found, you in theory could maintain that same level of damage throughout the rest of life. Impact could be minimal or extensive, but likely not progressive as time goes on. There is no cure and it is not reversible, but can be stable. A very different picture is the idiopathic and immunologic forms, also incurable and not reversible, which can progress very aggressively to the need for a lung transplant. Survival rates are frightening and progression rapid. No one knows what causes it, why it happens, to whom it will happen to, and how quickly it will progress, but once it does it is a race against the clock to get the patient to lung transplant, assuming they are a candidate, find a match, and are chosen. Some studies report average life expectancy to be 5 years from time of diagnosis. It’s the predictability, the rapid progression, yet lack of cure or knowledge of cause that puts a crazy spin on this disease. In two words: It’s dismal.
My lung function tests were showing the restrictive process, which most often is caused by fibrosis, and which can often occur (like breast cancer) after extensive radiation to the chest. I knew this was not something to play around with so I scheduled an appointment with a fibrosis expert so we can figure out if in fact fibrosis is now in play, and if so, what was the cause (radiation induced or idiopathic as my grandfather died of fibrosis). And this is how I found myself finally standing in this check in line surrounded by lung transplant patients after a month long dance with fear. To say I have been afraid would be an understatement. The possibility of aggressive death or impending lung transplant had gripped my soul. I had spent the last 3 years in avoidance of breast cancer, only to find myself starring in the eyes of another, potentially more aggressive, beast. Very simply put, I wanted to grow old with Ron, and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with fibrosis. I wanted it off my dance card, and I wanted normalcy to return to my thoughts.
She, Delightful Lung Guru, was the most delightful person to meet. A compassionate heart, and thoughtful dialogue, an aggressive approach to help us figure out what was at stake. She agreed that the lung function tests in combination with my very complicated history would lead us down the fibrosis workup. She recognized that my radiation history makes the radiation induced form a strong contender, but the familial history with my grandfather and my historical dance with other immunologic processes places idiopathic/immunologic into play as well, and therefore we should do the work up for both. The cause was a huge predictor in outcomes and progression. She scheduled the chest CT scan to prove or disprove the presence of fibrosis and ordered the appropriate immunologic studies to determine cause. And then she flashed me the most compassionate smile and said we will figure it out together. And that is what we are doing.
Best case scenario: The CT shows no fibrosis and we are good to go! The lesser ideal is the CT shows fibrosis and then we need to try and sort out the cause. Radiation induced should show scarring only in the areas of the lung that were radiated. If that is the case, maybe this is the extent of damage/symptoms I will face (I learned this option of “no progression” yesterday in our dialogue and it alleviated many of my fears now knowing radiation induced was a real option yet could offer some hope in its stable path). If the pattern is more varied, well, we follow this much more closely while waiting to see when it starts progressing. When it does as it almost always does, I guess we race the clock to see if I would be a candidate for a lung transplant. Cart before the horse, but boy does that cart weigh heavily in this waiting period. We expect the lab and scan results to come back sometime this week. This week, after some newly found knowledge in the appointment, feels a little more manageable and hopeful. Now we wait.
“The blessing of God is not the absence of trials, but rather the glory of God through them.” It’s one thing for me to claim this truth in hindsight, when the saga has revealed itself and we’ve pulled ourselves up and over the hurdle and back to manageable life. It’s entirely different for me to utter this truth in foresight when the future looks undecipherable, the edges are blurry, a little less bright and a little more forlorn. I’m learning to master the former and find myself a far cry from the latter. I want to be a woman who faces trials as though they are blessings. Not after they prove themselves worthy, but before the outcome is even in view. I know there will still be sting as life sometimes brings disappointment, but I want there to be way more faith, and faith that lasts longer than a 12 hours. My disclosing is not an effort to exude sympathy, but rather encouragement through prayer to continue to run the race with head held high, heart in check, and faith as my driver. Hope is where the heart is.
In the midst of my fear, I want to transition to thanksgiving for his blessing as HE defines it. I think this would absolutely rock my world to find this perspective. And I’m working on it with each new trial....um, I mean blessing.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
Wow. I probably should stop right there and not type another word. Isn't that powerful? Isn't that focusing? Isn't that...hard to claim in the middle of the moment? I’ve eluded before that I often find myself in a state of entitlement expecting God to shower me with blessings, of my choosing, and blessings of my expected quantity, quality and value. It’s as if I am the only one who can define what meets criteria to be further labeled as “blessing” instead of trusting in his plan.
There is a piece of my story I have not yet shared publicly. A piece that in this very moment is still unfolding. It's new and frightening with one option being manageable, and the other option being shattering. “Blessing” is still yet to be grasped and claimed. I've been private about it because quite honestly I didn't want to utter the words for fear of what would come. I was sorting and juggling a rash of emotions that felt better left untyped. But more recently as I have been meditating on this quote, I quickly find myself shifting to the pursuit of discovering his blessing despite outcome as his glory is entirely more relevant than my longevity. My story, in reflection of and in spite of each individual sentence composing the narrative, is for him to define and for me to be blessed in and through. Facing trials with grace and peace becomes so much more attainable when I claim this revelation. But let me say, it took a very long month of November living in fear and doubt to come to this inner peace that is approaching my horizon. The story is still unfolding. This story is a reminder of life after malignancy. And this story is an example of how fear can grip you, when you don't even know the outcome yet. But I hope later this story will be a reflection of growth in my heart, no matter what the outcome.
Ron and I were standing in the check-in line at her office. Her office carried a very different atmosphere than the breast clinic. It told a different story. Wheel chairs more prevalent than not. Oxygen tanks flanking each side, instead of breast drains. The room felt less “hopeful” and more aware of current state, or so as I perceived. The line was moving slowly so Ron went to grab a pair of chairs in the now crowded space while I continued to wait. It only took 30 seconds after the young man went by with his equally young wife in the wheel chair for me to see the water pool in my vision. My heart was breaking for the occupants of this room, who did not have advocates of pink ribbons and benefit walks pushing them forward, and my heart was fearful for self and the “what ifs” that now plague my thoughts. I had spent the last month both craving this day (for knowledge and potential hopeful news) and dreading this day (for potential very bad news). I had spent nights in tears out of "what ifs" and I had spent days with all consuming thoughts. The potential had engulfed my being. I glanced up to see the sign above the check in desk: Heart and Lung Transplant Clinic. And now I was standing, after a month of turmoil, in this room, in this line, next to be checked in.
It was found during routine follow-up testing for my lymphoma of 25 years previous. You will recall I had scheduled dermatology (check!), colonoscopy (upcoming), cardiac (check!) and pulmonology testing (ongoing). Remember, we aren't simply survivors but rather in a continual process of surviving. It was the pesky pulmonology that stumped my traversing toe. Breathing tests suggested a restrictive process, suggestive of the development of fibrosis. As it turns out, after much reading, pulmonary fibrosis turns out to be a much bigger bird than I thought. Knowing my radiation history, it was plausible that I have developed radiation-induce pulmonary fibrosis, though there is another form, “immunologic” and/or “idiopathic”, that would have to be considered. Regardless of the cause, the physical changes are consistent: a scarring of the lung that reduces lung volume and inhibits oxygenation. While the physical changes are similar the progression and outcomes can be drastically different.
In the case of radiation induced, it is thought that the damage occurs but that the damage does not progress. Meaning, once found, you in theory could maintain that same level of damage throughout the rest of life. Impact could be minimal or extensive, but likely not progressive as time goes on. There is no cure and it is not reversible, but can be stable. A very different picture is the idiopathic and immunologic forms, also incurable and not reversible, which can progress very aggressively to the need for a lung transplant. Survival rates are frightening and progression rapid. No one knows what causes it, why it happens, to whom it will happen to, and how quickly it will progress, but once it does it is a race against the clock to get the patient to lung transplant, assuming they are a candidate, find a match, and are chosen. Some studies report average life expectancy to be 5 years from time of diagnosis. It’s the predictability, the rapid progression, yet lack of cure or knowledge of cause that puts a crazy spin on this disease. In two words: It’s dismal.
My lung function tests were showing the restrictive process, which most often is caused by fibrosis, and which can often occur (like breast cancer) after extensive radiation to the chest. I knew this was not something to play around with so I scheduled an appointment with a fibrosis expert so we can figure out if in fact fibrosis is now in play, and if so, what was the cause (radiation induced or idiopathic as my grandfather died of fibrosis). And this is how I found myself finally standing in this check in line surrounded by lung transplant patients after a month long dance with fear. To say I have been afraid would be an understatement. The possibility of aggressive death or impending lung transplant had gripped my soul. I had spent the last 3 years in avoidance of breast cancer, only to find myself starring in the eyes of another, potentially more aggressive, beast. Very simply put, I wanted to grow old with Ron, and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with fibrosis. I wanted it off my dance card, and I wanted normalcy to return to my thoughts.
She, Delightful Lung Guru, was the most delightful person to meet. A compassionate heart, and thoughtful dialogue, an aggressive approach to help us figure out what was at stake. She agreed that the lung function tests in combination with my very complicated history would lead us down the fibrosis workup. She recognized that my radiation history makes the radiation induced form a strong contender, but the familial history with my grandfather and my historical dance with other immunologic processes places idiopathic/immunologic into play as well, and therefore we should do the work up for both. The cause was a huge predictor in outcomes and progression. She scheduled the chest CT scan to prove or disprove the presence of fibrosis and ordered the appropriate immunologic studies to determine cause. And then she flashed me the most compassionate smile and said we will figure it out together. And that is what we are doing.
Best case scenario: The CT shows no fibrosis and we are good to go! The lesser ideal is the CT shows fibrosis and then we need to try and sort out the cause. Radiation induced should show scarring only in the areas of the lung that were radiated. If that is the case, maybe this is the extent of damage/symptoms I will face (I learned this option of “no progression” yesterday in our dialogue and it alleviated many of my fears now knowing radiation induced was a real option yet could offer some hope in its stable path). If the pattern is more varied, well, we follow this much more closely while waiting to see when it starts progressing. When it does as it almost always does, I guess we race the clock to see if I would be a candidate for a lung transplant. Cart before the horse, but boy does that cart weigh heavily in this waiting period. We expect the lab and scan results to come back sometime this week. This week, after some newly found knowledge in the appointment, feels a little more manageable and hopeful. Now we wait.
“The blessing of God is not the absence of trials, but rather the glory of God through them.” It’s one thing for me to claim this truth in hindsight, when the saga has revealed itself and we’ve pulled ourselves up and over the hurdle and back to manageable life. It’s entirely different for me to utter this truth in foresight when the future looks undecipherable, the edges are blurry, a little less bright and a little more forlorn. I’m learning to master the former and find myself a far cry from the latter. I want to be a woman who faces trials as though they are blessings. Not after they prove themselves worthy, but before the outcome is even in view. I know there will still be sting as life sometimes brings disappointment, but I want there to be way more faith, and faith that lasts longer than a 12 hours. My disclosing is not an effort to exude sympathy, but rather encouragement through prayer to continue to run the race with head held high, heart in check, and faith as my driver. Hope is where the heart is.
In the midst of my fear, I want to transition to thanksgiving for his blessing as HE defines it. I think this would absolutely rock my world to find this perspective. And I’m working on it with each new trial....um, I mean blessing.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
November 30, 2015 - Gaining another monument
I’m almost afraid to tell this story. It’s a fear of not doing it justice in how everything came together in God-like fashion. I don’t want to disappoint him in my telling. You surely wouldn’t believe the chain of events had you been sitting co-pilot in real time beside Ron and I, so just take my word for it. It is an awesome story despite my unimpressive re-telling.
Ron found it Thanksgiving Day. The house of the “crazy people” who list their house for sale the week of thanksgiving (well in fact the day before thanksgiving) while traveling out of town. The people who evidently are as crazy as Ron and I. I now know this is a brilliant plan – listing while on vacation, because you clean the house before you leave and never again while you are gone! I now wouldn’t do it any other way. I was skeptical of this newly discovered house, listed the prior day. We had already secured an apartment (see last post) knowing we were in the last week of being able to find a house and close on it in time for our current house closing. January 5th is a month away. It's very difficult in current mortgage processes to close on a house in under 45 days, much less FIND a house and then close. We had already decided that an apartment and its high rental fees was inevitable. We had spent the weekend before apartment hunting and now had the apartment secured for move in later in December. So when Ron flipped the computer screen my way on thanksgiving day, I only halfheartedly committed to its viewing. I even said to Ron, this is likely a waste of time, and I feel bad for making the realtor go with us thanksgiving weekend to see it. I looked at the pictures, fulling knowing that living room was smaller than it appeared, that dining room would only hold a 2 person card table, and that master surely only boasted room for a twin. It said “two car garage”, “master bedroom downstairs”, “open floor plan”, and “spacious backyard”. I had fallen prey to those words before only to disappoint when the master was really the storage closet, the price was out of budget, and the location in another state. But these pictures, and most certainly the price tag, had “What in the world? This is awesome!” written all over it! But I knew something would disappoint. "Ron, are you SURE you want to go see it?" We would have to go back to Raleigh a day early so we could see it before the 48 hour sale off that is happening in this market.
We packed up our bags and headed back to town to meet our realtor at the house. Ron and I arrived a little early and pulled into the drive way. WHAT? This DOES look like the picture. The neighborhood was off our radar as it was in a zip code we had not yet considered, but it sat about 0.5 miles outside two zip codes I was trying to maintain. The realtor arrived and we went to the front door. My heart sort of dropped, as the last house I had on my master plan came to a booming halt as soon as the front door opened. She turned the key, opened the door, and my heart went from drop zone to delight! Not only did the house LOOK like the pictures, for the first time in our search, it actually exceeded the pictures! The living room was open and would hold my couch AND my coffee table. The dining room was a place you could actually dine with your 6 closest friends. The master bedroom was in fact downstairs and sporting a king sized bed. The garage not only holds two cars, but room for Ron’s tools! A walk in attic? Was someone playing a trick on me? For the first time, we were standing in a house that created an excitement, and without compromise. And do you recall I said under budget? I didn't know what God was going to lead me too, but I knew he would create excitement in me for whatever that would be once we found it. I had excitement.
“Ron, I think this is it.” “Sally, I think this is it.” We walked back out to the front of the house and met a second group of people coming in for a showing. My heart was sinking. Twelve people had already seen this house.
We drove to the realtor’s office and got out of the car. “I called the agent while you guys were coming over and they have an offer coming in tonight. Do you still want to make an offer?” Oh no, I knew it! Every house we had even CONSIDERED wanting to buy had multiple offers on it. I was well past loathing this real estate market. This house had everything we needed – this master down is crucial right now and very hard to find in the urban sprawl of houses being built “up” instead of “out” to save land. While a 2 car garage was a want and not a need, it was important to me for Ron to have this so he would have somewhere to store his tools and such. I didn’t want him to have to sacrifice that because of my need for a master down. Usually you get one or the other, but both was starting to be unheard of in our new budget. My heart was breaking that my need was to over-ride his want. So we knew this house was a gem for our current state and we might not have another option this good.
“Yes!”
We typed up an offer and sent it in. We heard back almost immediately that a second offer had come in, so they were giving each of us an opportunity to submit one last offer for them to choose from. I knew in my heart that this house was something God had placed in front of us. The timing was perfect (the last week before the timeline mandated we had to move into an apartment, and after I had giving up on anything listing in the holiday week), the location suitable for our commutes in opposite directions, the layout perfection for my health challenges, and all under budget thus making our drastic mortgage downsize dreams come true. God was doing his thing.
We typed up a second offer and included a letter of “our story” to the sellers of how God was taking us to something new, leaving behind the “perfect forever home”, and now looking for a new house that would work for my physical needs, our location demands for our commutes, and some of our wants as well. It only took an hour or so before we got a reply from the sellers letting us know how our story had touched them. They wrote back of how this home would be perfect for us just as it had been for them when they needed a master down during her pregnancy. They felt delighted to give us the chance to make their house our home and were grateful we shared our journey with them.
If I didn’t serve this amazing God that I do I would think this story impossible. We have searched and searched for a home, only to find huge compromise and location woes. We would find a great house, but would have to leave it behind because the master was up. Or we would find a house that had the layout, but needed drastic work, thus pushing the final cost up and out of our budget. Then there were the houses that just felt-off and not what God was choosing for us. Now, the week we settle on an apartment out of necessity, we find this gem that not only hits all of our tick points (the first house to do so), but also adds in some lovely additions we didn’t think possible (a front porch, a backyard, a walk in attic, under budget!) And the big kicker….. closing date is Jan 5th! Yes, you are recalling correctly, that is the exact same date of our current house.
See, I told you! God did his thing once again. I tried to thwart the journey with worry and disappointment along the way See Sally go up, See Sally go down! But what you did not see is "See Sally run!" We kept remembering that when God calls, he provides. We stepped out on faith and He in all his Glory did his thing! Not only did I find contentment in leaving my house, I found excitement in God’s provision. I lost some house upgrades, but was gaining another monument of what God can do when you follow, even when it doesn’t make sense. No tribute to me, but all to him and his faithfulness.
We are in the midst of packing our house, so we can't put up our Christmas tree and decor. Ya'll know I ADORE decorating for Christmas. Well, I know how to improvise in celebration. My last Christmas in this home will still carry Christmas cheer.
What a mighty God we serve!
(Side note prayers for the couple who didn't get the house. I know that feeling of disappoint, and back to the drawing table. My gift was their loss. No doubt, they are not feeling delight.)
Ron found it Thanksgiving Day. The house of the “crazy people” who list their house for sale the week of thanksgiving (well in fact the day before thanksgiving) while traveling out of town. The people who evidently are as crazy as Ron and I. I now know this is a brilliant plan – listing while on vacation, because you clean the house before you leave and never again while you are gone! I now wouldn’t do it any other way. I was skeptical of this newly discovered house, listed the prior day. We had already secured an apartment (see last post) knowing we were in the last week of being able to find a house and close on it in time for our current house closing. January 5th is a month away. It's very difficult in current mortgage processes to close on a house in under 45 days, much less FIND a house and then close. We had already decided that an apartment and its high rental fees was inevitable. We had spent the weekend before apartment hunting and now had the apartment secured for move in later in December. So when Ron flipped the computer screen my way on thanksgiving day, I only halfheartedly committed to its viewing. I even said to Ron, this is likely a waste of time, and I feel bad for making the realtor go with us thanksgiving weekend to see it. I looked at the pictures, fulling knowing that living room was smaller than it appeared, that dining room would only hold a 2 person card table, and that master surely only boasted room for a twin. It said “two car garage”, “master bedroom downstairs”, “open floor plan”, and “spacious backyard”. I had fallen prey to those words before only to disappoint when the master was really the storage closet, the price was out of budget, and the location in another state. But these pictures, and most certainly the price tag, had “What in the world? This is awesome!” written all over it! But I knew something would disappoint. "Ron, are you SURE you want to go see it?" We would have to go back to Raleigh a day early so we could see it before the 48 hour sale off that is happening in this market.
We packed up our bags and headed back to town to meet our realtor at the house. Ron and I arrived a little early and pulled into the drive way. WHAT? This DOES look like the picture. The neighborhood was off our radar as it was in a zip code we had not yet considered, but it sat about 0.5 miles outside two zip codes I was trying to maintain. The realtor arrived and we went to the front door. My heart sort of dropped, as the last house I had on my master plan came to a booming halt as soon as the front door opened. She turned the key, opened the door, and my heart went from drop zone to delight! Not only did the house LOOK like the pictures, for the first time in our search, it actually exceeded the pictures! The living room was open and would hold my couch AND my coffee table. The dining room was a place you could actually dine with your 6 closest friends. The master bedroom was in fact downstairs and sporting a king sized bed. The garage not only holds two cars, but room for Ron’s tools! A walk in attic? Was someone playing a trick on me? For the first time, we were standing in a house that created an excitement, and without compromise. And do you recall I said under budget? I didn't know what God was going to lead me too, but I knew he would create excitement in me for whatever that would be once we found it. I had excitement.
“Ron, I think this is it.” “Sally, I think this is it.” We walked back out to the front of the house and met a second group of people coming in for a showing. My heart was sinking. Twelve people had already seen this house.
We drove to the realtor’s office and got out of the car. “I called the agent while you guys were coming over and they have an offer coming in tonight. Do you still want to make an offer?” Oh no, I knew it! Every house we had even CONSIDERED wanting to buy had multiple offers on it. I was well past loathing this real estate market. This house had everything we needed – this master down is crucial right now and very hard to find in the urban sprawl of houses being built “up” instead of “out” to save land. While a 2 car garage was a want and not a need, it was important to me for Ron to have this so he would have somewhere to store his tools and such. I didn’t want him to have to sacrifice that because of my need for a master down. Usually you get one or the other, but both was starting to be unheard of in our new budget. My heart was breaking that my need was to over-ride his want. So we knew this house was a gem for our current state and we might not have another option this good.
“Yes!”
We typed up an offer and sent it in. We heard back almost immediately that a second offer had come in, so they were giving each of us an opportunity to submit one last offer for them to choose from. I knew in my heart that this house was something God had placed in front of us. The timing was perfect (the last week before the timeline mandated we had to move into an apartment, and after I had giving up on anything listing in the holiday week), the location suitable for our commutes in opposite directions, the layout perfection for my health challenges, and all under budget thus making our drastic mortgage downsize dreams come true. God was doing his thing.
We typed up a second offer and included a letter of “our story” to the sellers of how God was taking us to something new, leaving behind the “perfect forever home”, and now looking for a new house that would work for my physical needs, our location demands for our commutes, and some of our wants as well. It only took an hour or so before we got a reply from the sellers letting us know how our story had touched them. They wrote back of how this home would be perfect for us just as it had been for them when they needed a master down during her pregnancy. They felt delighted to give us the chance to make their house our home and were grateful we shared our journey with them.
If I didn’t serve this amazing God that I do I would think this story impossible. We have searched and searched for a home, only to find huge compromise and location woes. We would find a great house, but would have to leave it behind because the master was up. Or we would find a house that had the layout, but needed drastic work, thus pushing the final cost up and out of our budget. Then there were the houses that just felt-off and not what God was choosing for us. Now, the week we settle on an apartment out of necessity, we find this gem that not only hits all of our tick points (the first house to do so), but also adds in some lovely additions we didn’t think possible (a front porch, a backyard, a walk in attic, under budget!) And the big kicker….. closing date is Jan 5th! Yes, you are recalling correctly, that is the exact same date of our current house.
See, I told you! God did his thing once again. I tried to thwart the journey with worry and disappointment along the way See Sally go up, See Sally go down! But what you did not see is "See Sally run!" We kept remembering that when God calls, he provides. We stepped out on faith and He in all his Glory did his thing! Not only did I find contentment in leaving my house, I found excitement in God’s provision. I lost some house upgrades, but was gaining another monument of what God can do when you follow, even when it doesn’t make sense. No tribute to me, but all to him and his faithfulness.
We are in the midst of packing our house, so we can't put up our Christmas tree and decor. Ya'll know I ADORE decorating for Christmas. Well, I know how to improvise in celebration. My last Christmas in this home will still carry Christmas cheer.
What a mighty God we serve!
(Side note prayers for the couple who didn't get the house. I know that feeling of disappoint, and back to the drawing table. My gift was their loss. No doubt, they are not feeling delight.)
November 24, 2015 - See Sally Go Up!
It turns out not only is my house delightful and sells in no time flat, evidently every house I want to buy is equally as delightful. Every time we think of making an offer, we find out it went under contract earlier that day or the night before. Case and point yesterday when the most delightful house (one of the few that hit all of our check points) went to a “johnny on the spot” bidder. Heaven forbid you take 4 hours to see if the commute is a problem. Or maybe you want to take 2 hours to run the numbers and see how it works out. Not in this market! Houses that need new roofs and complete siding replacement ($$$), not to mention interior efforts, have 3 offers in 24 hours. This is challenging me in new ways, my friend.
We’ve entered the time window where we can’t close on a new house in the time we need to be out of our current house (January 5th) so we went ahead and secured an apartment to have on hand to live in and store our stuff in, thus circumventing the whole storage unit process.)I do have some excitement in that step! I can already picture myself stirring the spaghetti sauce in that kitchen. I feel accomplished in this task, but not much else. God (Satan/me/every buyer competing with us?) has me on a see saw. See Sally go up (she found a great house)! See Sally go down (oops, they already have an offer)! See Sally loose her sanity (what an emotional roller coaster). Working hard to not See Sally Run (Duct taping myself to my current garage door)!
In many ways it has been less stressful than I imagined. I hear the inspection went swimmingly well, though I am waiting on the actual report before I put all of my eggs in the swimmingly well basket. Finding an apartment was successful in one day (though maybe a bit more expensive than I remember from 15 years ago!). We get to move in mid-december to give us 3 weeks to slowly turtle-like our boxes from one garage to another. That is a huge not overlooked benefit to not finding a house yet. Closing day will be laid back instead of frantically moving from one house to another in a 6 hours span. Ron and I remain civil and jovial with each other after having packed up our kitchen and parts of the bedroom. We have secured a ton of FREE boxes from 3 different people in surrounding neighborhoods thanks to “Nextdoor” posts, and we don’t have to buy a single box or packing supply. Oliver doesn’t seem the least bit mad at us for the pending relocation despite boxes covering our living area. Though he did just have a near-death event and maybe doesn’t realize what is up just yet. To be determined.
What is stressful is this emotional roller coaster like seesaw. Every night (and I mean every night) and every morning you plant yourself on the sofa to see what listed in the last 12 hours. Reminder, 12 hours matter in this market! You see something that hits >7 of your 10 check points, you get super excited picturing this very sofa you are planted on now situated up next to the their fireplace next to the staircase leading up to a second level of bliss. You touch base with the realtor… only to find it already has 4 offers. Alternately, you find the most delightful little cottage (ok it’s just a house, but terminology helps my excitement) and schedule a visit only to find out they must have been taking pictures of their neighbor’s house instead of the one you are standing in wondering how that kitchen came to be 3 x 2 and without a stove. Is a spot for a stove too much to ask for? See Sally go up! See Sally go down.
Finding this apartment has eased my soul a bit minus the mishap of the seemingly perfect house going to the johnny on the spot bidder yesterday. Congratulations, Johnny, I’m relying on the fact that you surely need that house more than I do. Yes, I know that just means it wasn’t the house for us, but God should have let me know in foresight instead of hindsight, right? Often we humans think God owes us something, don’t we? Maybe God had perfect timing in that plan of us still not having a house before we have to move out, though I find myself complaining about having to move boxes twice. I’m the first one to slip off the grateful ship, you know. Still, I am relishing in knowing I have a place to live (and for 4 months mind you!) allows me to be less concerned about what is not yet on the market for me to move in to, in my budget, without either of us having to drive across 4 counties, with a master down and at least a spot for a stove. Campfire, anyone?
I still faithfully believe God brought us here and he will provide the house in his timing. He’s yet to let me down in life, even if things don’t unroll the way I would wish up front. Somehow that doesn’t negate the responsibility of doing our part to search and secure the “ark”. In in the process the see saw takes hold of me! So thankful for a husband who is right there with me in the process and that we are fully trusting that God will do what God does...in his timing.
Each morning, I wake up with a new address memorized. I wonder which one will end up sticking?
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
We’ve entered the time window where we can’t close on a new house in the time we need to be out of our current house (January 5th) so we went ahead and secured an apartment to have on hand to live in and store our stuff in, thus circumventing the whole storage unit process.)I do have some excitement in that step! I can already picture myself stirring the spaghetti sauce in that kitchen. I feel accomplished in this task, but not much else. God (Satan/me/every buyer competing with us?) has me on a see saw. See Sally go up (she found a great house)! See Sally go down (oops, they already have an offer)! See Sally loose her sanity (what an emotional roller coaster). Working hard to not See Sally Run (Duct taping myself to my current garage door)!
In many ways it has been less stressful than I imagined. I hear the inspection went swimmingly well, though I am waiting on the actual report before I put all of my eggs in the swimmingly well basket. Finding an apartment was successful in one day (though maybe a bit more expensive than I remember from 15 years ago!). We get to move in mid-december to give us 3 weeks to slowly turtle-like our boxes from one garage to another. That is a huge not overlooked benefit to not finding a house yet. Closing day will be laid back instead of frantically moving from one house to another in a 6 hours span. Ron and I remain civil and jovial with each other after having packed up our kitchen and parts of the bedroom. We have secured a ton of FREE boxes from 3 different people in surrounding neighborhoods thanks to “Nextdoor” posts, and we don’t have to buy a single box or packing supply. Oliver doesn’t seem the least bit mad at us for the pending relocation despite boxes covering our living area. Though he did just have a near-death event and maybe doesn’t realize what is up just yet. To be determined.
What is stressful is this emotional roller coaster like seesaw. Every night (and I mean every night) and every morning you plant yourself on the sofa to see what listed in the last 12 hours. Reminder, 12 hours matter in this market! You see something that hits >7 of your 10 check points, you get super excited picturing this very sofa you are planted on now situated up next to the their fireplace next to the staircase leading up to a second level of bliss. You touch base with the realtor… only to find it already has 4 offers. Alternately, you find the most delightful little cottage (ok it’s just a house, but terminology helps my excitement) and schedule a visit only to find out they must have been taking pictures of their neighbor’s house instead of the one you are standing in wondering how that kitchen came to be 3 x 2 and without a stove. Is a spot for a stove too much to ask for? See Sally go up! See Sally go down.
Finding this apartment has eased my soul a bit minus the mishap of the seemingly perfect house going to the johnny on the spot bidder yesterday. Congratulations, Johnny, I’m relying on the fact that you surely need that house more than I do. Yes, I know that just means it wasn’t the house for us, but God should have let me know in foresight instead of hindsight, right? Often we humans think God owes us something, don’t we? Maybe God had perfect timing in that plan of us still not having a house before we have to move out, though I find myself complaining about having to move boxes twice. I’m the first one to slip off the grateful ship, you know. Still, I am relishing in knowing I have a place to live (and for 4 months mind you!) allows me to be less concerned about what is not yet on the market for me to move in to, in my budget, without either of us having to drive across 4 counties, with a master down and at least a spot for a stove. Campfire, anyone?
I still faithfully believe God brought us here and he will provide the house in his timing. He’s yet to let me down in life, even if things don’t unroll the way I would wish up front. Somehow that doesn’t negate the responsibility of doing our part to search and secure the “ark”. In in the process the see saw takes hold of me! So thankful for a husband who is right there with me in the process and that we are fully trusting that God will do what God does...in his timing.
Each morning, I wake up with a new address memorized. I wonder which one will end up sticking?
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
November 20, 2015 - Who wants hard breasts?
The room was less than half full, though you could tell the clinic was super busy given that I was already 1 hour past my appointment due time, and still I sat reading my book. I had scheduled my appointment late in the day so I could work a full day then head over. The sky outside was starting to fade into dusk, and I was feeling the tiredness of my work day settle in. It had been a doozie and I was grateful to be in a quiet waiting room. Despite the abundance of available spots in the room, she gently sat down next to me on the love seat. I placed her age to be in her early to mid 80s. Not the usual patient I see in this waiting room. Despite her age and while still the usual coarse texture of grey, she had endearing 2 inch long rusted-blond curls of hair going in 20 different directions, yet gently swept over to the right in the front adding a controlled appearance. She kept pushing them over with her hand as she sat. She wore a grey wool sweater vest over a similarly colored striped turtle neck shirt and beige polyester pants.. She carried a small handbag which now sat balanced atop her crossed legs. Her fingers were aged with arthritis and age spots. Her frame was frail and petite, but she carried an air around her of being totally together and independent. I could see she felt either rushed or nervous as she kept glancing around the room. We likely looked very out of place sitting next to each other as we carried almost no similar traits. Or so I thought.
She started her dialogue with me almost immediately.
"I almost never found this place. They keep moving clinics around here. I hope I'm still on time."
"Yes, m'am. It is a large campus for sure, but I think you are right on time as they seem to be running behind. Are you new to the breast clinic?"
"Sort of. I'm "Jocelyn Morreou" (changed of course). Everyone always mispronounces my name. Are you here to see Lead Plastic Surgeon, too?"
Nothing about her, other than the fact that she was sitting in a breast clinic, alerted me to a diagnosis. She had no tell-tale signs of bulging drains. Her hair was in tact. Her coloring spectacular with her carefully painted rosy cheeks and mauve lips. No caregivers with her at the appointment. I would soon (in a less than 15 minute time span) learn from her that she was single or widowed and in her early eighties.
"Yes, Mam. I've been coming to this clinic for 3 years now. I am here for a followup after a surgery to replace my breast implants. "
Her eyes got wide and she looked up at me and and said (while simultaneously grabbing both breast and pushing them up) "Me too! These things have gotten so hard and they won't move at all!"
It took everything in my power not to bust out laughing, but I was a total champ at keeping my composure. "I had a mastectomy 12 years ago and have had no problems at all until now. These things have become all hard and they won't move around a bit. They just sit there hard as a brick and uncomfortable. (Reminder, she's still manually holding her boobs up and moving them around as she talks to me.) She then exclaims with the passion of a 20 year old 'Who wants hard breasts?!?!' They have to be replaced, I am sure of it. But I hope this will be an easy surgery. I live alone now. I recently downsized my house and moved to this quaint little neighborhood."
Ok, so here I sat picking up on all of the newly discovered similarities between me and Ms. Jocelyn. I couldn't believe that God had plopped this very endearing lady in her eighties down on my sofa in this waiting room. I told her about my current state of downsizing houses and having just recently undergone the exact same surgery for the exact same reason that she was about to be confronted with. I spent a lot of time detailing recovery and comforting her that she didn't have a thing to worry about. She would love the outcome. Recovery would be quick and her family could come help her out. I was in the middle of asking her to tell me more of her story (I got all of the great details. she had early breast cancer when they found it in her 70s and she had decided not to do chemotherapy, but rather go with mastectomy and hope for the best. She reminded me that "quality of life matters, you know! Always get a second opinion when they push you to chemo.") when we heard her name being called for her appointment. "See, they said it wrong. But she gave it a good try!" We squeezed each other's hand and off she went. I gave myself a chuckle when I thought about a lady in her mid 80s worrying about what her breasts looked like. That right there is a lady with some spunk! And a gentle reminder that no matter our age, we all are women and have opinions of ourselves.
There I was sitting alone again on the sofa thinking how much she may have unknowingly needed to have chosen the seat next to me as who else in that room other than me would have recently had scar tissue surgery and could provide perspective, but more importantly how much I had benefited from her seat selection. If only I could hear all the stories sitting in that room. What a better person I become by knowing each of them. With a smile on my face, I picked up my book and resumed waiting my turn.
"Ms. McCollum?"
As a reminder for you, Lead Plastic Surgeon had told me it would take a month or more for the breast to fall back into shape after surgery, so he had not yet seen the outcome of surgery since my last appointment had been only 2 weeks post op. I had checked out the goods the night before, for the first time since my last appointment, and was amazed at how I now had symmetrical imposters! It worked! And the scars had already begun their fading process. I could not have been more please with the results, well, considering this was surgery #6. So when I presented the canvas to the artist he didn't say a word. He simply lifted his hand in a high five (which I happily gave) and I responded with requesting a low five as well. He said "hold on, I want my nurse practitioner to see this." (What?!?! Community show and tell?). He said he never would have dreamed it turned out so well after my complications since mastectomy and she wouldn't believe it. So we had a community show and tell, and I simply let it happen because I at least owed him that, right? As I was getting ready to leave and relishing in the fact I would have no more breast clinic appointments to schedule, I grabbed his arm.
"I met Ms. Jocelyn in the hallway. She started rejecting her implant with scar tissue 12 years out. Do I need to worry?"
"Sally, let's take this day by day. Don't give it a second thought."
"Well, I won't really rest until April. That is the time point for when I had cellulitis after surgery."
"Yes, I know. Day by day, ok?"
"Ok, just know this that when I walk out this door, I don't plan on ever seeing you again, ok?"
"Then give me a hug and be gone. We've come a long way haven't we?! You were a surgical feat for me."
As I left the appointment and walked down the long hallway (it was after hours and the normally super busy corridor somehow felt deserted), I found this incredible smile on my face as I walked further way from the clinic. We had done it! Too bad Ron wasn't there with me in the hallway. I literally would have grabbed him and swung him around as the tears rolled down my cheek." Another Breast/boob/imposter surgical chapter triumphantly closed. How can I not be beaming? God is so good to me.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
She started her dialogue with me almost immediately.
"I almost never found this place. They keep moving clinics around here. I hope I'm still on time."
"Yes, m'am. It is a large campus for sure, but I think you are right on time as they seem to be running behind. Are you new to the breast clinic?"
"Sort of. I'm "Jocelyn Morreou" (changed of course). Everyone always mispronounces my name. Are you here to see Lead Plastic Surgeon, too?"
Nothing about her, other than the fact that she was sitting in a breast clinic, alerted me to a diagnosis. She had no tell-tale signs of bulging drains. Her hair was in tact. Her coloring spectacular with her carefully painted rosy cheeks and mauve lips. No caregivers with her at the appointment. I would soon (in a less than 15 minute time span) learn from her that she was single or widowed and in her early eighties.
"Yes, Mam. I've been coming to this clinic for 3 years now. I am here for a followup after a surgery to replace my breast implants. "
Her eyes got wide and she looked up at me and and said (while simultaneously grabbing both breast and pushing them up) "Me too! These things have gotten so hard and they won't move at all!"
It took everything in my power not to bust out laughing, but I was a total champ at keeping my composure. "I had a mastectomy 12 years ago and have had no problems at all until now. These things have become all hard and they won't move around a bit. They just sit there hard as a brick and uncomfortable. (Reminder, she's still manually holding her boobs up and moving them around as she talks to me.) She then exclaims with the passion of a 20 year old 'Who wants hard breasts?!?!' They have to be replaced, I am sure of it. But I hope this will be an easy surgery. I live alone now. I recently downsized my house and moved to this quaint little neighborhood."
Ok, so here I sat picking up on all of the newly discovered similarities between me and Ms. Jocelyn. I couldn't believe that God had plopped this very endearing lady in her eighties down on my sofa in this waiting room. I told her about my current state of downsizing houses and having just recently undergone the exact same surgery for the exact same reason that she was about to be confronted with. I spent a lot of time detailing recovery and comforting her that she didn't have a thing to worry about. She would love the outcome. Recovery would be quick and her family could come help her out. I was in the middle of asking her to tell me more of her story (I got all of the great details. she had early breast cancer when they found it in her 70s and she had decided not to do chemotherapy, but rather go with mastectomy and hope for the best. She reminded me that "quality of life matters, you know! Always get a second opinion when they push you to chemo.") when we heard her name being called for her appointment. "See, they said it wrong. But she gave it a good try!" We squeezed each other's hand and off she went. I gave myself a chuckle when I thought about a lady in her mid 80s worrying about what her breasts looked like. That right there is a lady with some spunk! And a gentle reminder that no matter our age, we all are women and have opinions of ourselves.
There I was sitting alone again on the sofa thinking how much she may have unknowingly needed to have chosen the seat next to me as who else in that room other than me would have recently had scar tissue surgery and could provide perspective, but more importantly how much I had benefited from her seat selection. If only I could hear all the stories sitting in that room. What a better person I become by knowing each of them. With a smile on my face, I picked up my book and resumed waiting my turn.
"Ms. McCollum?"
As a reminder for you, Lead Plastic Surgeon had told me it would take a month or more for the breast to fall back into shape after surgery, so he had not yet seen the outcome of surgery since my last appointment had been only 2 weeks post op. I had checked out the goods the night before, for the first time since my last appointment, and was amazed at how I now had symmetrical imposters! It worked! And the scars had already begun their fading process. I could not have been more please with the results, well, considering this was surgery #6. So when I presented the canvas to the artist he didn't say a word. He simply lifted his hand in a high five (which I happily gave) and I responded with requesting a low five as well. He said "hold on, I want my nurse practitioner to see this." (What?!?! Community show and tell?). He said he never would have dreamed it turned out so well after my complications since mastectomy and she wouldn't believe it. So we had a community show and tell, and I simply let it happen because I at least owed him that, right? As I was getting ready to leave and relishing in the fact I would have no more breast clinic appointments to schedule, I grabbed his arm.
"I met Ms. Jocelyn in the hallway. She started rejecting her implant with scar tissue 12 years out. Do I need to worry?"
"Sally, let's take this day by day. Don't give it a second thought."
"Well, I won't really rest until April. That is the time point for when I had cellulitis after surgery."
"Yes, I know. Day by day, ok?"
"Ok, just know this that when I walk out this door, I don't plan on ever seeing you again, ok?"
"Then give me a hug and be gone. We've come a long way haven't we?! You were a surgical feat for me."
As I left the appointment and walked down the long hallway (it was after hours and the normally super busy corridor somehow felt deserted), I found this incredible smile on my face as I walked further way from the clinic. We had done it! Too bad Ron wasn't there with me in the hallway. I literally would have grabbed him and swung him around as the tears rolled down my cheek." Another Breast/boob/imposter surgical chapter triumphantly closed. How can I not be beaming? God is so good to me.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
November 16, 2015 - Off we go all the same
The tires had just hit the runway after a two leg flight, and I was eager to get upright and out of this winged contraption. We had been up since 4 that morning and were in need some cajun grub and maybe a nap to re-set ourselves. Four a.m and I don't mix very well and it was starting to show. I looked out the window to my right to see the visions of Louisiana fill the small oval glass. It was crazy to think it had been 10 years since all of this was flooded in Katrina's wrath. I could almost see the swells of water on the runway in my imagination. Those images that filled the television screen 10 years earlier never really leave your mind. They left me impacted, and now I was going to see the outcome of the city coming back full force. "Welcome to New Orleans where the local time is 10:17. The use of cell phones is now permitted. Thank you for choosing us for your travel needs." I reached down into my bag to turn on my phone to adjust the time and immediately noticed I had 3 missed calls. What in the world? I get 3 calls in a month! Two second later, while trying to decipher who was calling and when they came through, the phone rang again in my hand.
"Hello?"
"Hey Sally, this is A calling from ____(the vet office). I've been trying to reach you. Did you get my voice messages?"
It suddenly registered to me that the vet office is closed on Sundays and A had no reason to be in the office. Immediately, my stomach did the 180 roll inside my abdomen and I braced myself for what I was about to hear. I glanced over at Ron next to me and saw he was acutely tuned into to me next to him as salty water was accumulating on the rim of my lower eye lid.
"Oh no, A, it is Sunday and you are not supposed to be in the office today. Something is wrong isn't it?"
"The tech came in the office this morning to feed Oliver and found him unresponsive. He was freezing cold, and not reacting to voice or touch. The tech called me, and I flew into the office to see what was going on. When I arrived, Oliver was in a coma-like state. His body temperature was 90 (should be 101), and it was obvious he had had seizures through the night as there was urine and feces all over his cage. I checked his blood sugar and it was so low that it wasn't detectable (<20). I am not sure he is going to survive. I have started warming up his body to see if I can get a response from him, but I worry he may have significant organ damage and brain damage from the seizures. He very easily could be blind as well. I am in the process of warming him and giving him dextrose to get his blood glucose up. I will call you back in a a little bit when I know more. We love Oliver and are doing our best here." (Only slightly paraphrased as I try to recall exact words from last week.)
There I was sitting in 20F on a now empty plane with the phone in my lap, tears streaming down my face, and a stewardess standing above us asking us if we needed help. All I could do was grab my bag from the overhead, grab Ron's hand and head out to the ramp leading from plane to terminal. What was going on? Our sweet, sweet, Oliver who seemed perfectly fine when we dropped him off the day before was now lying frigid cold and unresponsive in a steel boarding cage back in North Carolina. And suddenly the last place I wanted to be was where I was at that very moment. Ron and I just couldn't process what was happening. We were supposed to be starting our week-long annual vacation with Ron's family after a very stressful two weeks trying get the house on the market. There wasn't a thing we could do but put Oliver into God's hands and wait to see what turned out. Meanwhile, Ron and I were preparing ourselves to have to make that awful decision of letting him go, all while 3 states away.
Over the next 24 hours we learned that Oliver's diabetes had suddenly gone into remission and the daily insulin shots he had been receiving was sending his blood sugar to undetectable lows. His body responded with going into a protective frigid state, but it was too much for him and he had seizures and brain swelling in response to blood levels. Dr. A spent the first 12 hours warming Oliver's body up so she could see what permanent damaged had occurred to his organs. She also gave him IV fluids to get his blood sugar back up. And she watched and waited. A few hours in he started to lift his head and look at her, but not much else.
The phone rang again late that night: "Sally, I don't know what to say, We transferred Oliver to an emergency vet office where they had more support staff on the weekends. (I'm picturing our sweet Oliver getting his first "pet ambulance" ride and not even being able to enjoy it.) They gave him a dose of mannitol to reduce the swelling in his brain because he was having some twitching movements that we often see with brain swelling. You are not going to believe it. Immediately, he (the cat with 36 lives) started playing with a toy in his boarding cage. He got up started batting it around and then found his food bowl where he has been standing eating like a little piggy ever since. We are going to watch him closely for the next 48 hours in the ICU, but Oliver did what Oliver does and pulled through. It's a miracle really. We can't believe it!"
What?!?! Ron and I didn't even know what to say! We just sort of stared at each other with tears in our eyes for this cat we have pulled through urinary stones, lymphoma, multiple eye and ear infections, and now steroid induced diabetes after his lymphoma went into remission. We were speechless and exhausted and fell into bed with looks of "what just happened?" plastered on our faces.
This was turning out to be such an emotional roller coaster week. A miracle with Oliver using his 36th life, us paralyzed in another state not able to do a thing, and now I bring to you the emotional miracle of our house. Ok, so while Oliver was dying, reviving himself, and then thriving back to 100% normalcy (I don't know why this surprises me because it is like the 3rd time he has tried to die on us), our contractor was finishing up some final tasks on our house so we could get it on the market. We got a call from him on Tuesday evening (Oliver crashed on Sunday, revived on Monday, and now was thriving on Tuesday) that despite God sending a flooding rain the last 2 days, he had finished the painting job and the project was officially done and ready to be listed. He called our realtor and she went over to the house on Wednesday morning to put the sign in the yard for us. Within an hour, I had 3 requests for showings that same day. By the end of the day we had a verbal offer. Thursday morning we received the written offer. Our house had sold in 24 hours all while we were on vacation.
Now here is where God comes into play:
On a mastectomy related note: I have my 3 month follow-up appointment (boob show and tell) this week with Lead Plastic Surgeon. I was in New Orleans last week. I told Ron it would only be fitting for me to practice show and tell for some Mardi Gras beads. He wasn't amused. No worries, it didn't happen, but how can I not at least banter with Ron about it while in New Orleans? I did at least see him crack a smile. Or maybe he was just thinking about Oliver and him surviving his 36th life and the house selling the next day.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
"Hello?"
"Hey Sally, this is A calling from ____(the vet office). I've been trying to reach you. Did you get my voice messages?"
It suddenly registered to me that the vet office is closed on Sundays and A had no reason to be in the office. Immediately, my stomach did the 180 roll inside my abdomen and I braced myself for what I was about to hear. I glanced over at Ron next to me and saw he was acutely tuned into to me next to him as salty water was accumulating on the rim of my lower eye lid.
"Oh no, A, it is Sunday and you are not supposed to be in the office today. Something is wrong isn't it?"
"The tech came in the office this morning to feed Oliver and found him unresponsive. He was freezing cold, and not reacting to voice or touch. The tech called me, and I flew into the office to see what was going on. When I arrived, Oliver was in a coma-like state. His body temperature was 90 (should be 101), and it was obvious he had had seizures through the night as there was urine and feces all over his cage. I checked his blood sugar and it was so low that it wasn't detectable (<20). I am not sure he is going to survive. I have started warming up his body to see if I can get a response from him, but I worry he may have significant organ damage and brain damage from the seizures. He very easily could be blind as well. I am in the process of warming him and giving him dextrose to get his blood glucose up. I will call you back in a a little bit when I know more. We love Oliver and are doing our best here." (Only slightly paraphrased as I try to recall exact words from last week.)
There I was sitting in 20F on a now empty plane with the phone in my lap, tears streaming down my face, and a stewardess standing above us asking us if we needed help. All I could do was grab my bag from the overhead, grab Ron's hand and head out to the ramp leading from plane to terminal. What was going on? Our sweet, sweet, Oliver who seemed perfectly fine when we dropped him off the day before was now lying frigid cold and unresponsive in a steel boarding cage back in North Carolina. And suddenly the last place I wanted to be was where I was at that very moment. Ron and I just couldn't process what was happening. We were supposed to be starting our week-long annual vacation with Ron's family after a very stressful two weeks trying get the house on the market. There wasn't a thing we could do but put Oliver into God's hands and wait to see what turned out. Meanwhile, Ron and I were preparing ourselves to have to make that awful decision of letting him go, all while 3 states away.
Over the next 24 hours we learned that Oliver's diabetes had suddenly gone into remission and the daily insulin shots he had been receiving was sending his blood sugar to undetectable lows. His body responded with going into a protective frigid state, but it was too much for him and he had seizures and brain swelling in response to blood levels. Dr. A spent the first 12 hours warming Oliver's body up so she could see what permanent damaged had occurred to his organs. She also gave him IV fluids to get his blood sugar back up. And she watched and waited. A few hours in he started to lift his head and look at her, but not much else.
The phone rang again late that night: "Sally, I don't know what to say, We transferred Oliver to an emergency vet office where they had more support staff on the weekends. (I'm picturing our sweet Oliver getting his first "pet ambulance" ride and not even being able to enjoy it.) They gave him a dose of mannitol to reduce the swelling in his brain because he was having some twitching movements that we often see with brain swelling. You are not going to believe it. Immediately, he (the cat with 36 lives) started playing with a toy in his boarding cage. He got up started batting it around and then found his food bowl where he has been standing eating like a little piggy ever since. We are going to watch him closely for the next 48 hours in the ICU, but Oliver did what Oliver does and pulled through. It's a miracle really. We can't believe it!"
What?!?! Ron and I didn't even know what to say! We just sort of stared at each other with tears in our eyes for this cat we have pulled through urinary stones, lymphoma, multiple eye and ear infections, and now steroid induced diabetes after his lymphoma went into remission. We were speechless and exhausted and fell into bed with looks of "what just happened?" plastered on our faces.
This was turning out to be such an emotional roller coaster week. A miracle with Oliver using his 36th life, us paralyzed in another state not able to do a thing, and now I bring to you the emotional miracle of our house. Ok, so while Oliver was dying, reviving himself, and then thriving back to 100% normalcy (I don't know why this surprises me because it is like the 3rd time he has tried to die on us), our contractor was finishing up some final tasks on our house so we could get it on the market. We got a call from him on Tuesday evening (Oliver crashed on Sunday, revived on Monday, and now was thriving on Tuesday) that despite God sending a flooding rain the last 2 days, he had finished the painting job and the project was officially done and ready to be listed. He called our realtor and she went over to the house on Wednesday morning to put the sign in the yard for us. Within an hour, I had 3 requests for showings that same day. By the end of the day we had a verbal offer. Thursday morning we received the written offer. Our house had sold in 24 hours all while we were on vacation.
Now here is where God comes into play:
- The house sold while we were on vacation 24 hours after listing.
- The house sold for the price I had mentally listed in my head.
- The house sold to a couple who is downsizing just like Ron and I.
- The house sold without me having to be there keeping the house clean for showings. We virtually would have never known the house went on the market except for a sign being in the yard!
- The couple requested a Christmas week closing. They allowed us to push back to January 5th so we could enjoy Christmas week.
On a mastectomy related note: I have my 3 month follow-up appointment (boob show and tell) this week with Lead Plastic Surgeon. I was in New Orleans last week. I told Ron it would only be fitting for me to practice show and tell for some Mardi Gras beads. He wasn't amused. No worries, it didn't happen, but how can I not at least banter with Ron about it while in New Orleans? I did at least see him crack a smile. Or maybe he was just thinking about Oliver and him surviving his 36th life and the house selling the next day.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
November 3, 2015 - Black blob on the screen
Last time, it was while in the dreaded stirrups (stirrup saga posted here). This time while getting a cardiac echo. This week, I am smack in the middle of all the testing I need to complete as followup to my lymphoma treatment from 24 yr previous. I might be slightly behind schedule, but I get points for doing it all the same. Last week, my pulmonary tests showed I was developing some radiation-induced fibrosis (think of scars forming in the lungs which leads to lung volume loss), so now it was time to look at the heart to see if there was any collateral damage. The sweetest technician ever (I keep running into great people on this journey!) was applying the gel to the probe and running it up the length of my sternum. Then under the breast. Then back again. About 3 or 4 minutes in, "Um, Ms. McCollum, I don't want to be overly personal, but is there any chance you have breast implants?" Me, letting out a chuckle, "Yeah, let me guess, you are having trouble seeing the heart." She pulls the monitor over to me where I can see the black blob on the screen instead of the heart valves which were our intended subject. Never a dull moment I tell ya. So we regrouped. Injected an agent to make visibility better and started again. Who knew I was to divulge my implants for a heart appointment? I think I will just put it out there front and center at my colonoscopy. "Mam, just in case you need to know while looking at my colon...I have breast implants". Ladies, you just never know.
I had written this summer how it's not about being a survivor of malignancy, it's more about surviving malignancy. I'm 24 years out from my lymphoma and it never really is a thing of the past. I'm in the middle of pulmonary testing, same with cardiac testing, just completed dermatology, post mastectomy surgical followup this month, and will start gastrointestinal stuff in January. It can mentally weight you down, these initial appointments back to back, but then they are behind you and what is unknown will be known and you move forward with information in tow. Surviving. That's what we do and will do from here on out. Simply put, all of these workups happening simultaneously makes life feel a little busy.
Which leads me to the the pending house sale. Oh mercy lou! While I still feel peaceful and know this is the path we are to take, it certainly doesn't help the to-do list. We got delayed a week when the contractor doing one repair needed to come a week later than we anticipated. So instead of listing this week, we will list the house next week. And you ask yourself "do you have somewhere to live"? Plain and simple - No. I will not stress out about that. I will not stress out about that. I will not stress out about that! (Ok, so maybe one or two nights this week I woke up at 0 dark thirty in a tad of a panic, but the daylight hours are perfectly fine. So no need to worry!) When God calls, he provides. We know we will live somewhere close to where we live now and that it will present itself when the time is right. I am a little more comforted after looking this week (distressing when looking last week) at some houses online that fall within our budget. There most certainly will be some compromise ( I will miss my ranch floor plan with my master on the main level, but alas...first world problems), but no doubt there will come some delight. I've always found my current kitchen cabinets, while beautiful, not to my taste. See, I'm vain. It's always the unknown that brings about turmoil huh? Well, the known is always do-able when it finally comes about. So far every thing we have visited, we have ruled out. But no worries. There is plenty of time (right?). My mother may or may not have told me I could not move in with her. I'm fairly sure she may have been joking?!?! Maybe.
What a testament this will be when all is said and done....if I can keep myself from derailing the whole thing. Not a testament to myself, but a statement of what God can do when you walk by faith. Ok, or maybe a testament to myself in how humans can be so stupid with worry. I may hyperventilate along the way here and there, but I can't wait to look back and see how Ron and I grew in this moment. We've never walked blindly into something before. It's certainly not where we are gifted - us Type A Planners who even plan out how we will make a plan. And I am sure we will be collecting some "lessons learned" along the way. Like this week when God took away the very house we were quite sure would be The One". Or how waiting for joint peace between us before making this decision brought us better selling perks than we would have had last spring when peace had not yet set in.
The story is still unfolding. You guys remember that my well-being heavily relies on planned instant gratification, right? He sure knows how to overcome a weakness.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
I had written this summer how it's not about being a survivor of malignancy, it's more about surviving malignancy. I'm 24 years out from my lymphoma and it never really is a thing of the past. I'm in the middle of pulmonary testing, same with cardiac testing, just completed dermatology, post mastectomy surgical followup this month, and will start gastrointestinal stuff in January. It can mentally weight you down, these initial appointments back to back, but then they are behind you and what is unknown will be known and you move forward with information in tow. Surviving. That's what we do and will do from here on out. Simply put, all of these workups happening simultaneously makes life feel a little busy.
Which leads me to the the pending house sale. Oh mercy lou! While I still feel peaceful and know this is the path we are to take, it certainly doesn't help the to-do list. We got delayed a week when the contractor doing one repair needed to come a week later than we anticipated. So instead of listing this week, we will list the house next week. And you ask yourself "do you have somewhere to live"? Plain and simple - No. I will not stress out about that. I will not stress out about that. I will not stress out about that! (Ok, so maybe one or two nights this week I woke up at 0 dark thirty in a tad of a panic, but the daylight hours are perfectly fine. So no need to worry!) When God calls, he provides. We know we will live somewhere close to where we live now and that it will present itself when the time is right. I am a little more comforted after looking this week (distressing when looking last week) at some houses online that fall within our budget. There most certainly will be some compromise ( I will miss my ranch floor plan with my master on the main level, but alas...first world problems), but no doubt there will come some delight. I've always found my current kitchen cabinets, while beautiful, not to my taste. See, I'm vain. It's always the unknown that brings about turmoil huh? Well, the known is always do-able when it finally comes about. So far every thing we have visited, we have ruled out. But no worries. There is plenty of time (right?). My mother may or may not have told me I could not move in with her. I'm fairly sure she may have been joking?!?! Maybe.
What a testament this will be when all is said and done....if I can keep myself from derailing the whole thing. Not a testament to myself, but a statement of what God can do when you walk by faith. Ok, or maybe a testament to myself in how humans can be so stupid with worry. I may hyperventilate along the way here and there, but I can't wait to look back and see how Ron and I grew in this moment. We've never walked blindly into something before. It's certainly not where we are gifted - us Type A Planners who even plan out how we will make a plan. And I am sure we will be collecting some "lessons learned" along the way. Like this week when God took away the very house we were quite sure would be The One". Or how waiting for joint peace between us before making this decision brought us better selling perks than we would have had last spring when peace had not yet set in.
The story is still unfolding. You guys remember that my well-being heavily relies on planned instant gratification, right? He sure knows how to overcome a weakness.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
November 1, 2015 - Difficulty learning to un-collect
I'm completely fine looking forward. I'm completely fine looking back. It is when I do them simultaneously in a moment of comparison that the Lord reveals the condition of my heart. I'm not sure whether I measure this current moment as success or failure. They seem so intertwined on most days. Success in that we are taking that leap of faith without knowing the path forward. Failure is measured in my greed of what I leave behind.
It started almost 6 month ago. This prompting, prodding, nudging of leaving this house for something different. Call it downsizing. Call is re-programming. Call it crazy! Call it long over due. Call it against the normal american flow. Call it DAUNTING. Many terms could be applied and each would carry its merit. Right now I am in the middle of the undulating chaos that ripples as an outcome of our most recent decision. We've done it. We've chosen a path with an unpublished ending. Our house is going on the market this very week. And now we are in the run around like crazy mode of getting everything done. I feel like these last seven days have been 2 months. I would bet I have crammed 800 hours of tasks into 72 hours. I've scrubbed and buffed and tweaked and evaluated and measured, and now... I'm tired physically. I'm tired emotionally. And this coming week will be more crazy than last. I'm told our house is going to sell rather quickly...and there unearthed in that revelation is the condition of my heart.
It's so easy to find a house when you are upgrading. More square footage. More amenities. More "American dream". More collecting. There is much less superficial delight when you are downsizing. Less amenities. Less "American dream". My joy comes in hearing his voice and following, but then I walk into the prospective house and find less of my worldly treasures. I've grown so accustomed to gathering "more" in this life. And now I am in the midst of hitting the "reset" button. Just when I think I have made a progressive step forward, I find myself staring at my granite in remorse for leaving it behind. I'm having difficulty learning to un-collect.
We've set a budget and we will get what we get. And right now that is the unknown. This whole process is such a mixed bag of emotions. Joy in recognizing that we did it. We followed God's prompt even when on paper it sounds a little crazy. Terror in not knowing where you are going. Fear in leaving behind what you perfectly love and adore. Anxiety in the "what ifs". Security in financial decision making. Warmth in deciding in tandem to jump in full force with your spouse. God is tweaking me in this moment as I listen to his goals for my life and better align my own in tow. Now, the goal is for me not to derail him with my own greed and desires. I know he is not calling all of us in this same way as he leads each of us in paths chosen directly for us, but for whatever reason, he is calling Ron and I to step out of this house and into something...well into something I don't have clarity about just yet.
We were originally going to embark on this journey alone, but then remembered journeys are to be shared and prayed over. Doing this alone just didn't make sense anymore. Our house is going on the market this week. Pretty soon Ron and I will have no place to live. I think you now know your prayer task. And while we are at it, my mindset fluctuates. Sometimes I soar! Sometimes I derail. You can pray for that as well.
(I'm reminded of God's provision from last spring when all of this prompting started. I walked outside and looked up to see this reminder of his faithfulness. God, breathe your breath into my life. Do your thing!)
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
It started almost 6 month ago. This prompting, prodding, nudging of leaving this house for something different. Call it downsizing. Call is re-programming. Call it crazy! Call it long over due. Call it against the normal american flow. Call it DAUNTING. Many terms could be applied and each would carry its merit. Right now I am in the middle of the undulating chaos that ripples as an outcome of our most recent decision. We've done it. We've chosen a path with an unpublished ending. Our house is going on the market this very week. And now we are in the run around like crazy mode of getting everything done. I feel like these last seven days have been 2 months. I would bet I have crammed 800 hours of tasks into 72 hours. I've scrubbed and buffed and tweaked and evaluated and measured, and now... I'm tired physically. I'm tired emotionally. And this coming week will be more crazy than last. I'm told our house is going to sell rather quickly...and there unearthed in that revelation is the condition of my heart.
It's so easy to find a house when you are upgrading. More square footage. More amenities. More "American dream". More collecting. There is much less superficial delight when you are downsizing. Less amenities. Less "American dream". My joy comes in hearing his voice and following, but then I walk into the prospective house and find less of my worldly treasures. I've grown so accustomed to gathering "more" in this life. And now I am in the midst of hitting the "reset" button. Just when I think I have made a progressive step forward, I find myself staring at my granite in remorse for leaving it behind. I'm having difficulty learning to un-collect.
We've set a budget and we will get what we get. And right now that is the unknown. This whole process is such a mixed bag of emotions. Joy in recognizing that we did it. We followed God's prompt even when on paper it sounds a little crazy. Terror in not knowing where you are going. Fear in leaving behind what you perfectly love and adore. Anxiety in the "what ifs". Security in financial decision making. Warmth in deciding in tandem to jump in full force with your spouse. God is tweaking me in this moment as I listen to his goals for my life and better align my own in tow. Now, the goal is for me not to derail him with my own greed and desires. I know he is not calling all of us in this same way as he leads each of us in paths chosen directly for us, but for whatever reason, he is calling Ron and I to step out of this house and into something...well into something I don't have clarity about just yet.
We were originally going to embark on this journey alone, but then remembered journeys are to be shared and prayed over. Doing this alone just didn't make sense anymore. Our house is going on the market this week. Pretty soon Ron and I will have no place to live. I think you now know your prayer task. And while we are at it, my mindset fluctuates. Sometimes I soar! Sometimes I derail. You can pray for that as well.
(I'm reminded of God's provision from last spring when all of this prompting started. I walked outside and looked up to see this reminder of his faithfulness. God, breathe your breath into my life. Do your thing!)
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
October 19, 2015 - What I wish I had known
I’m helping (?) a friend navigate prophylactic mastectomy.
It’s crazy to me how 3 years later (8 or so weeks from my most recent surgery) you still
can feel every nuance of mastectomy, as fresh as yesterday’s rain storm. One
question from her can send me right back into that moment with the flip of the
switch. What surprises me though is how her questions totally align with my own
experience. And it’s teaching me that surgeons can do a better job of preparing
women for the first few days after mastectomy. But the fault is also mine as I
did a poor job of preparing her and others upfront. Part of that was I didn’t
know what I should reveal upfront (as in this is part of everyone’s journey)
verses what tidbit I should wait and see if it comes up (as in maybe it was
just part of my story alone). Almost every single thing that has come up for
her I could have prepared her for in advance. So now I know. And therefore now
I am putting together this list to have on hand based on my experience and the
feedback of some others. She thinks I am helping her. Well, little did I know
that she is very much helping me. Ron and I have been in awe at what we thought
was our experience, very much translates into the experiences of others…and
therefore making me feel a little more normal.
This list is compiled based on my experience and feedback
from some of you after your procedure. It is by no means comprehensive (not by far!), but
hopefully it at least gets you started. I’ve made much shorter more superficial
lists in the past, but have learned in recent months that a concrete list you
can get to quickly may better serve me as I come in contact with others facing
their mastectomy journey. This list is not meant to overwhelm but rather to
equip you upfront, early on, before you find yourself spinning in the moments
of mastectomy. Knowledge is empowering in many ways and gets rid of some of the
fear or worrying of “what should I do?”. If you have other tips let me know. I
would love to have this list grow so we can share it with other women at time
of need.
- It’s best to get on a defined schedule early on. Think of toddler sleep training or infant schedules. You and your spouse find times that work for you and stick with it. It takes the guess work out of when to do what, adds structure and security, and helps prevent a chaotic evening because you forgot to fit something in earlier in the day. For example, assign 2 times a day to empty drains, assign a time for your shower (more on that later), figure out meal time, have food drop off at a specific window of the day, pain meds here, and so on.
- Drains can be painful, drains can be comfy. I didn’t learn the latter was an option until my sixth surgery. It comes down to drain placement and how much is coiled up inside the breast. You may be luck and have the comfy set.
- Drain volume will start heavy and lessen with each day or so. There may be a little up and down in volume, but not much. The goal is about <30 ml output in a 24 hours period. When you start approaching that you can know you will be very close to getting the little suckers out!
- You may need less pain medications than you thought. Mastectomy results in the removal of nerve endings, so you can feel some stuff, but not near as much as you would think. After about 48 hours post-surgery, you may find you can start weaning yourself off.
- While you take pain meds, be sure to add in a stool softener or stimulant. Just trust me on this. Start the day after surgery and stick with it. You don’t want to get behind the eight ball here.
- Emotions may be high early on, but soon after drain removal, you start to feel more normal. Just be ok with the fact that you may find yourself in a puddle of tears for seemingly no reason at all. There is a reason, you just may not understand it. Try to just get through the early days. Go on auto-pilot. Over time you can dive deeper. You most certainly will feel something and it may vary from hour to hour. Don’t be ashamed in what you feel. Know you most likely are having very normal thoughts and emotions. Don’t be afraid to reach out.
- Related to # 6. You are going to feel strange at your first attempt at a shower. I now know that several of us were on the verge of “passing out” (I blame the heat and blood pressure effects), and close to if not already in tears. I thought I was very alone in this response, and now know many women report similar experiences at shower time. The surgeon tells you to shower. And it’s important that you do. But let’s do a modification to it. I’d say you may be smarter to sit in a tub with just a few inches of water. Keep the drains hooked up so there is no risk of them or the incision touching the bath water. Get an empty cup or bucket and use it to pour FRESH water from the faucet on your head after you soap up. It is very important you remember NOT to use the water from the bottom of the tub, just fresh water from the faucet. You are mimicking a shower, but you don’t have to hold yourself up standing in a hot shower with little airflow. Best decision you will make for shower time. No passing out feelings, less tears. (I now have several people who stand by this as well after trying it).
- You may feel like passing out when it comes time to change bandages or what not. ALWAYS do these tasks laying down. Go ahead, close your eyes, have some music playing in the background, and go to your happy place. Leave the task to your caregiver. You just show up, that’s it.
- Get a lanyard or wide ribbon to wear around your neck. Hook your drains to that. No risk of getting them caught on your waist band when you go potty and easy to use in the shower/tub.
- Heaven forbid it is time for your first “glance”. I would recommend you wait a few days for that. You may think you are ready early on. Chances are, you are not. I have several women who confirm this and wish they had waited until their body have healed some. I’d say give it at least a week or so. And when you do it, blare some happy music in the background. And make sure someone is there with you. Either in the room or right outside the door. You may be surprised at your reaction. And remember how it looks in week one is not how it will look in month 2.
- The scars ALWAYS look better than what you can conjure up in your head. Another reason in addition to #10 above to wait a bit before looking is that time allows more healing = better appearance = less hyperventilation. Give them a chance to heal before you start judging them on the cat walk. Let your caregiver worry about inspecting it early on for healing. You wait it out and look at the art work when it is ready to be looked at. Trust me on this one.
- When you think you are ready to take your first trip out of the house. Wait one more day. = ) Just make sure you have at least 2 good days in a row before you tackle that.
- When you think you are ready to go out to dinner for the first time. Wait one more day. = ) And go alone. You may think you want to meet friends out because you do get stir crazy and lonely at home, but you will be surprised how exhausting the event can be by the time you dress, get parked, walk in, find a seat, order food, then try to eat. Go first alone (with family) as a trial run. If you do that successfully, THEN invite others to join you.
- Don’t be surprised if you have a “shooting pain” sensation. Think of it like a “shock” feeling running down a nerve in your breast. Though the nerve endings have basically been removed, you still feel this phantom like pain. It varies in occurrence (several times a day, once a day, once a week) and duration (1 week post, 2 weeks post, 2 months post, eternity). Mine never went away as in 3 years later I still have them. Some of them can take your breath away, others are more minimal in severity. It’s normal for this to occur post mastectomy and nothing to worry about. Pain that is growing in duration or severity could be a sign of infection and should be reported.
- Your breasts are going to be swollen. This swelling can last for months. As time goes on the body will reabsorb the fluid and they will diminish in their “puffy” appearance.
- While early on in this process (if you were open about your procedure) you may feel a tad overwhelmed with the outpouring of support. That is a wonderful part of mastectomy, the love and support you receive. Overtime, you may notice you start to feel alone. While people come out in droves early on, the numbers will drastically decrease after a few weeks. This is normal of course, but for you, you are still in the middle of mastectomy many months later so it can start to feel lonely as everyone moves on with their lives, as is expected, and you are still stuck in the middle of yours. Be sure to reach out and stay in close contact with your closest of friends. They can help you ward off some of that loneliness you may find in the aftermath. You may also feel more loneliness the day your caregiver returns back to work. Prepare yourself for that by maybe pre-arranging a visitor that afternoon. Or asking your caregiver to maybe do a half-day back at work that first day for you to ease back in.
- And related to #16, you are going to hear 100 times over how “brave” you are. And the very last thing you are going to feel in the moment is “brave”. In fact, you may start to loathe the word, as what you actually are feeling is very scared, fearful of the unknown, guilt, and so on and so on. One woman recently said to me “if I hear one more person tell me how brave I am, I’m going to scream!”. Just know the word is very well intended and yes in fact there is a form of bravery for CHOOSING this procedure. Know the word is going to annoy you, and also know that in the eyes of others you are in fact brave, whether you feel it or not.
- Sleeping is a challenge early on. Finding comfortable positions can be tough, and getting up and down from a laying position uses muscles you wish it didn’t. You just had you pectoral muscle filleted, so go easy. Some people prefer sleeping in a recliner. Some a bed. Try one out one night and one the next night and see which goes best. Also if you are laying on your back in bed, maybe get a foam wedge to help elevate your head and use pillows under your arms to reduce the stretch of the chest muscles. Just know up front it may take you a while to find comfort any given night. It’s going to be at least 2 months before you can lay on your stomach again. If your back starts hurting, try a night on the floor. Just have someone close by to help you get back up. (I learned the hard way).
- If you are choosing a surgery date, try to avoid the summer months. It’s super-hot and sticky for one. And for two, you have water restrictions for at least 6 weeks post-surgery. It’s no fun to have all your friends at the pool and you at home in a sports bra on the couch. Having had surgery in all seasons, I would choose the fall months. It’s tough to be stuck inside in the summer, and it is really tough on the chest muscle in the super cold months when you walk outside and have muscle “clamp down”. Spring or fall is the way to go when given the choice.
- On surgery day, you will want to take these items with you:
- A lanyard for your drains to clip on
- A pillow to hug for the ride home and maybe an extra pillow for behind your back
- Sit in the back seat and put the seatbelt around your lap, but the chest strap behind your back instead.
- A book, or music, or crossword puzzles or knitting, whatever. It’s easy to get anxious waiting for surgery to start. Take something to distract you. You don’t want your mind wandering around worrying about
- On surgery day, your caregiver will want to take:
- A book, or music, or crossword puzzles or knitting, whatever. It’s easy to get anxious waiting for surgery to be over. It’s a super long day (upwards of 5 hours). Take something to distract you. You don’t want your mind wandering around worrying about things.
- Have friends or family sign up for time slots to join you so you don’t have to do this alone. Your mind will wander too much with anxiety. (see # 22 below)
- Food, It’s a long day and you might not want to head to the cafeteria for fear of missing an update from surgery.
- Power sources for your electronics. Again, it is a long day.
- I am hopeful you have friends turn out to support your caregiver during surgery. However, chances are you are not going to be ready to see these friends after surgery. You may think up front that you want to see people right after. Don’t be surprised if you change your mind. GO ahead and have your caregiver warn people that they might not get to see you after surgery. You will likely want some space to yourself to adjust and you don’t want your friends to be surprised if that happens. Go ahead and assume you will not want to see anyone outside of immediate family for that day or a few days afterwards. Play it by ear.
- You will feel “something” if you go for delayed reconstruction or the placement of expanders. During this time your breasts will be much smaller than what they were before and what they will be in the future. In the case of delayed reconstruction, you may even have a concave appearance. In the event of expanders, think more flat chested or size A. For some women, this is a big change from where they were before, so it’s ok to have some emotions around that. Just know that it is a temporary event (unless you choose not to undergo reconstruction). It’s strange to see that change happen overnight the day of surgery.
- Your breasts are going to be numb, and it will catch you off guard. You may or may not get feeling back after reconstruction. I am 3 years out and can only feel the top ¼ portion of my breasts. Some women get more feeling back, others get none. This can feel very strange. You see yourself touching the breast, but you feel nothing. It needs to be said that this may have profound effects on your sexuality. You will want to prepare yourself and your spouse for this. Sexuality is different after mastectomy in a number of ways. You may be more self- conscious, Sensation changes. Positioning may require tweaking. Desire may be less. There is a whole list of things that can be said here. Likewise, you may have no impact at all. If you are having issues, you are normal and there is a good bit of literature out there about the impacts of breast cancer and mastectomy on your sex life. There are resources available, but I also think time is a huge healer.
- Your bra size, though hopefully similar to the before, may vary just enough that you will need new bras. You may also no longer need underwire. You will have to avoid underwire for at least 2 months post-surgery so as not to add pressure to the reconstructed area, but after that period you may find you have enough lift that you don’t need it at all. It will be a while before you are back into your silk and lace, so just prepare yourself for that. Also, if you experience swelling, that may affect your bra fit as well (and swimsuits).
- There are going to be moments when you need a girl friend or mother on hand. There are some emotions you need a female to process with. Your spouse is going to sometime feel lost because he can’t process all the emotions you are experiencing. Don’t be afraid to call in re-enforcements for a gal chat. Better yet, find someone who has done mastectomy before. You don’t even have to know her before-hand. Your surgeon can help you find a fellow patient. Introduce yourself to someone in the waiting room at your pre-op appointment. Ask on social media. A friend of a friend. That person can be an invaluable tool for you to prepare for from day to day, or to simply say “is this normal?” A stranger can very quickly turn into a friend.
- You never truly get over life events. You simply learn to get through them. Mastectomy won’t define you, but it will always be part of you. Let your story have purpose and let your story not only heal yourself but also those around you. You never know when the person watching you ends up in your very same shoes. Mastectomy can feel devastating, but over time you may find it feels empowering. Just know that takes time. And don’t rush the process.
- Prepare in advance a section of your closet as a “safe to wear” after mastectomy. Think underwear, yoga pants, loose fitting clothes. Things your caregiver can walk in a easily grab from the safe section and know you can put it on. Trust me, this is more for him and less for you, but it will alleviate many frustration on both ends.
- Make sure your spouse feels supported. He will have a lot of emotions of his own and he is likely going to feel alone in that. He probably won’t vent verbally so plan for the guys to come kidnap him one night and take him out for some mindless fun. Caregiving is exhausting, sometimes even more so than being the patient. Have girlfriend come hang out with you. It’s a win-win for your both.
- Know you can do this! The day before mastectomy you are going to feel so completely overwhelmed, but trust me the day after mastectomy is so much better. The unknown is now known and each day after get easier. Then you find yourself at a week and ready to take some trips out, then two weeks, then a month, then you are back to work and it’s all behind you and you find that mastectomy though different than you imagined can really bring about some amazing things in your life. Yes it’s scary, and yes, it’s challenging on a million levels, but oh does it bring about so many blessings. I hope that you find yours. And I hope you find ways to thrive in this moment.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
October 12, 2015 - The moment when you wish your stirrups were instead the other kind
To say I was in a funk would be a gross understatement. Foul, putrid, throw me out with yesterday’s trash. I’d say Ron considered it (throwing me out) for a few minutes when he woke me up super early to tell me about the tire. Yes, the third nail we’ve had in 1 month (2 for me, and 1 for Ron), AND just a few days following getting 4 brand new tires. My lid was going to pop! Mount Karkar was going to spew its angry habanero volcanic contents into my bedroom floor. I had HAD it! Enough! My 4 hours of sleep –thank you insomnia- now interrupted as my mood certainly was not going to allow me any more slumber. I wearily (and angrily!) climbed out of bed with plans to be ready to go asap so I could be first in line at the tire shop while Ron made his way into work for early meetings. Shower, change, grab, go. I arrived after a miserable can’t stand my mood 10 minutes and parked my car in the non-existent line (because a line of 1 car is just a dot), in the dark with no one around, turned off the ignition, banged my palm on the console in frustration, then laid my head down on the steering wheel. Sally!!!! Get it together! What in the world is wrong with you!?!?!
This tire had unearthed something else. I don’t get angry over a tire (be it twice in one month after purchasing brand new tires!) Something deeper was eating at me and for the life of me I couldn’t figure it out. And every little nuance of my day (the empty gas gauge that was at that very moment staring back at me through the steering wheel, the dead cell phone because of the corrupt phone charger cord, the pressure of decisions in something we thought was behind us, the 4 hours of sleep, the vet appointments, disappointment in a friendship, barely escaping snapping at Ron 20 minutes earlier) was bringing it to head. I was acutely aware I needed a soul cleansing yell at the top of my lungs alone in my car in the tire store parking lot to circumvent a repeat of this awful moment captured here -The Laundry Room Floor.
You’ve been there, I know you have. It’s the moment when you need to take action alone by yourself so that you can gather your wits back together to go on with the day’s tasks (picking up the toddler’s spilled lunch in the floor, sopping off the wet paint on the carpet, attending the meeting that follows the one you just suffered through, walking back into the cubical farm to finish out a day after giving that patient bad news). I absolutely needed that moment to clear my head and restore sanity back into the delightful Sally I had left behind the night before. So with my head down on the wheel in the dark parking lot I started to regroup…..until I heard the knock on the window and glanced up to see a confused station attendant looking in. And how in the world could I then not bust out laughing? After convincing him that I was ok, we got the task underhand and an hour or so later with a blog post scribed, I was back on my way to work (via the cell phone charger purchase and the gas station refuel). Sanity back in tow and rationale thoughts back in my repertoire, I can clearly see again that God is still the God of women who bang their hands/heads on steering wheels. His promises are true despite my inability to claim them some days.
II Timothy 4:17 - But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed...And I was delivered from the lion's mouth.
Hearing those words recently and them coming to mind in this moment reminded me of all the promises when finding yourself in circumstance. He is the God of any and all of my situations, no matter how trivial or how overwhelming. And maybe through me and my circumstance, he will change a life. I simply have to be his vessel for whatever purpose he wants to purpose it. Even a flat tire. On an inopportune day. After 4 hours of sleep. When you have an awesome interaction with the attendant in the store at zero dark thirty when she is obviously happy to be at work and beyond helpful at this ridiculous hour when all you want to do is crawl into a hole.
So I am refocused and back on stride. I am not thinking of my circumstance but now focused on the two families you guys have been helping me pray over. One has a surgical follow-up appointment early this week with hopes of getting good news. Go ahead dive in on that Prayer Ship with me. The other, I hope to see later this week when I drop off food. Prayers that their week is restored with blessings and healing. And now I add to your list a third and fourth. The third is entering prophylactic mastectomy on Wednesday. She’s feeling every single thing you feel the week of mastectomy. Emotions are high and the fear of the unknown is in full force. And the fourth is a new cancer diagnosis. She has been a gem to my family (especially to my mom) as I have navigated my past 3 years, so I am hoping the same for her in return. There is so much happening around me these days and I am grateful for people who partner up in prayer for people they don’t even know. Thank you!
Totally shifting gears, I do want to mention a hysterical moment from this past week and prior to this tire mishap the original reason for my next post. I don’t even know if my re-telling will even remotely begin to do the moment any justice. But it started with me in stirrups. (It’s not every day you get to tell a story that starts in stirrups, huh?) Yep, in stirrups. And not the fun can’t-wait-to-get-to-the-campfire-horse-riding-calf-roping kind of stirrups, but the other kind. The girly kind. “The seriously, it’s time to do this again???” kind. The OB/GYN kind. And it’s the moment when you wish your stirrups were instead... the other kind.
The paper gown was as delightful as always. The room temperature was as frigid as always. The lights above as florescent as always. And the eagerness to be done was as eager as always. I had just finished recapping my vacation plans of the summer past (cause what else do you talk about to pass the time) and then she says “so are you happy with your new breasts?” What??? Did you just ask me “was the beach trip awesome?” I am sure that is what you just asked me. “Huh? Well, ummmm. Honestly that is a loaded question. Do you have an hour to spare?” She had the most sincere of intents with asking about the elephant in the room as we had just reviewed my surgical history to update her records. What I wanted to say was “Do you have a few minutes to read a blog post of mine? Because I don’t think I can do the response justice in current state.” Doesn’t she realize her reading a summary with me nowhere around would be way easier than me regurgitating the concept of having a new hand (see previous post here It's not YOUR hand) while sitting here on her lovely BBQ Restaurant quality paper tablecloth covered examining table with my feet in the air? And you thought talking about summer vacation was an awkward topic for the venue. I was so taken back. Not because it wasn't a fair question, but rather most likely because I was scantly clad in the middle of the dread of the dread and thinking about anything but my boob. It 100% caught me off-guard. And it took me forever to recover the fumble and pick up the ball to get back into my sprint toward the end zone. I was paralyzed by the question and didn't know how to get the topic back on track to the "safe" topics of the stirrups. Three years post mastectomy and these boobs still know how to catch me off guard.
“I mean, I guess so. They are just different.”
I spared her the detail of the new air bubble I had recently discovered that totally freaks me out when I lie in bed at night to read and then see it move across the boob traversing ever so slowly from left to right. My new David Letterman (now someone else) worthy “stupid human trick”. We all have one.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
This tire had unearthed something else. I don’t get angry over a tire (be it twice in one month after purchasing brand new tires!) Something deeper was eating at me and for the life of me I couldn’t figure it out. And every little nuance of my day (the empty gas gauge that was at that very moment staring back at me through the steering wheel, the dead cell phone because of the corrupt phone charger cord, the pressure of decisions in something we thought was behind us, the 4 hours of sleep, the vet appointments, disappointment in a friendship, barely escaping snapping at Ron 20 minutes earlier) was bringing it to head. I was acutely aware I needed a soul cleansing yell at the top of my lungs alone in my car in the tire store parking lot to circumvent a repeat of this awful moment captured here -The Laundry Room Floor.
You’ve been there, I know you have. It’s the moment when you need to take action alone by yourself so that you can gather your wits back together to go on with the day’s tasks (picking up the toddler’s spilled lunch in the floor, sopping off the wet paint on the carpet, attending the meeting that follows the one you just suffered through, walking back into the cubical farm to finish out a day after giving that patient bad news). I absolutely needed that moment to clear my head and restore sanity back into the delightful Sally I had left behind the night before. So with my head down on the wheel in the dark parking lot I started to regroup…..until I heard the knock on the window and glanced up to see a confused station attendant looking in. And how in the world could I then not bust out laughing? After convincing him that I was ok, we got the task underhand and an hour or so later with a blog post scribed, I was back on my way to work (via the cell phone charger purchase and the gas station refuel). Sanity back in tow and rationale thoughts back in my repertoire, I can clearly see again that God is still the God of women who bang their hands/heads on steering wheels. His promises are true despite my inability to claim them some days.
II Timothy 4:17 - But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed...And I was delivered from the lion's mouth.
Hearing those words recently and them coming to mind in this moment reminded me of all the promises when finding yourself in circumstance. He is the God of any and all of my situations, no matter how trivial or how overwhelming. And maybe through me and my circumstance, he will change a life. I simply have to be his vessel for whatever purpose he wants to purpose it. Even a flat tire. On an inopportune day. After 4 hours of sleep. When you have an awesome interaction with the attendant in the store at zero dark thirty when she is obviously happy to be at work and beyond helpful at this ridiculous hour when all you want to do is crawl into a hole.
So I am refocused and back on stride. I am not thinking of my circumstance but now focused on the two families you guys have been helping me pray over. One has a surgical follow-up appointment early this week with hopes of getting good news. Go ahead dive in on that Prayer Ship with me. The other, I hope to see later this week when I drop off food. Prayers that their week is restored with blessings and healing. And now I add to your list a third and fourth. The third is entering prophylactic mastectomy on Wednesday. She’s feeling every single thing you feel the week of mastectomy. Emotions are high and the fear of the unknown is in full force. And the fourth is a new cancer diagnosis. She has been a gem to my family (especially to my mom) as I have navigated my past 3 years, so I am hoping the same for her in return. There is so much happening around me these days and I am grateful for people who partner up in prayer for people they don’t even know. Thank you!
Totally shifting gears, I do want to mention a hysterical moment from this past week and prior to this tire mishap the original reason for my next post. I don’t even know if my re-telling will even remotely begin to do the moment any justice. But it started with me in stirrups. (It’s not every day you get to tell a story that starts in stirrups, huh?) Yep, in stirrups. And not the fun can’t-wait-to-get-to-the-campfire-horse-riding-calf-roping kind of stirrups, but the other kind. The girly kind. “The seriously, it’s time to do this again???” kind. The OB/GYN kind. And it’s the moment when you wish your stirrups were instead... the other kind.
The paper gown was as delightful as always. The room temperature was as frigid as always. The lights above as florescent as always. And the eagerness to be done was as eager as always. I had just finished recapping my vacation plans of the summer past (cause what else do you talk about to pass the time) and then she says “so are you happy with your new breasts?” What??? Did you just ask me “was the beach trip awesome?” I am sure that is what you just asked me. “Huh? Well, ummmm. Honestly that is a loaded question. Do you have an hour to spare?” She had the most sincere of intents with asking about the elephant in the room as we had just reviewed my surgical history to update her records. What I wanted to say was “Do you have a few minutes to read a blog post of mine? Because I don’t think I can do the response justice in current state.” Doesn’t she realize her reading a summary with me nowhere around would be way easier than me regurgitating the concept of having a new hand (see previous post here It's not YOUR hand) while sitting here on her lovely BBQ Restaurant quality paper tablecloth covered examining table with my feet in the air? And you thought talking about summer vacation was an awkward topic for the venue. I was so taken back. Not because it wasn't a fair question, but rather most likely because I was scantly clad in the middle of the dread of the dread and thinking about anything but my boob. It 100% caught me off-guard. And it took me forever to recover the fumble and pick up the ball to get back into my sprint toward the end zone. I was paralyzed by the question and didn't know how to get the topic back on track to the "safe" topics of the stirrups. Three years post mastectomy and these boobs still know how to catch me off guard.
“I mean, I guess so. They are just different.”
I spared her the detail of the new air bubble I had recently discovered that totally freaks me out when I lie in bed at night to read and then see it move across the boob traversing ever so slowly from left to right. My new David Letterman (now someone else) worthy “stupid human trick”. We all have one.
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