The thing about writing a blog is I'm supposed to be open and revealing with my feelings. Well, that's something that isn't always easy for me. (My hubby and kids may disagree with that!). I try to be a very positive person, and not one who complains all the time. It's rare that I show when things aren't going well. Part of "Living life after cancer" is that although you're so happy to still be here and loving life, there are feelings and emotions from the past that can back-up on you.
Right now, my husband and I are very blessed. Things are going well for us, we're buying a wonderful new home, and things are good. So, why is it during this time that I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop? I HATE that! I don't want anything to steal my joy right now. Life is precious. Why waste it waiting for the bad stuff to happen? I hate the cancer has brought that to me.
There are days, like one I had recently, when the feelings of what we were going through a year ago at this time hit me hard and backed-up on me. The fear that I felt came flooding in, overwhelming all the good that's in my life right now. As a Christian, I almost feel guilty about having that fear in the first place, when I firmly believe that God is in control.
On this particular day, my sweet husband could tell something was up with me, and he encouraged me to quit fighting it, and to go with the flow. Let the feelings come. If that meant breaking dishes, having a good cry, or whatever, just go with it. You know, there are days where I wish I was the drama-queen type and I would totally lose it and smash every dish in the house. But that doesn't work for me. However, talk to my husband, kids, or anyone who knows me well, you'll know that I cry at the drop of a hat. I cry when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm angry, when I'm frustrated, and when I'm being blessed! It is the one way I let out my emotions. When you tell me to go with the flow -- look out! That means tears will be flowing.
When hubby encouraged me to let it out this day when my fear and feelings backed up on me, I sat there and had a good cry. God and I also had a few words through all of this, and for a few days after.
Of course, my husband was right. Instead of stuffing my feelings, my tears actually washed them away. So did talking to God. I don't want fear to overwhelm my joy. It's a terrible way to live. It was time to put that fear at God's feet and just trust. Sometimes that's so difficult to do, but it's something we must learn to do.
I'm not saying I won't have difficult days in the future. I'm sure I will. I just don't want to waste my joyous days worrying about what may or may not happen down the road.
For me, that's what trusting God is all about. I may still have my ups and downs, but as long as I trust Him, and enjoy every single blessing that He gives us, then we'll get it through it. And guess what? Before you know it, you'll have many more happy days than you do the tough days.
And I like these happy days!
Keep on truckin' everyone!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Birthdays are a Blessing
I just had my birthday a couple of days ago. By habit, I almost began to dread it, and that's just because I was focused on that "number." But very, very quickly, my attitude changed. Birthdays are a blessing! I had to tell that to myself once or twice, but it sunk in. I only had to remember what it felt like a year ago.
Last year, two days before my birthday, we received my sarcoma diagnosis. Round #2 with cancer was here. I wrote in my journal "Back on the Roller Coaster." That's what battling cancer is like - a roller coaster ride. There are so many ups and downs, thrills and scary parts, and yep, even some laughter. But it's all there. It's quite a ride.
This year on my birthday, it was difficult remembering where we were a year ago. Difficult in the sense that all those emotions are still simmering just below the surface. It was so easy to recall how we felt in 2009. We were facing such an unknown.
But it's already been a year since diagnosis. In some ways it seems like yesterday, but for the most part, it feels like a year. So much has happened. And the roller coaster ride has definitely settled down to a straight-away. Only a few dips and curves recently.
It was quite a year, birthday-to-birthday. In the long run, I'm glad to have that first year behind me. To know I'm able to keep moving forward.
Although being on the cancer roller coaster has changed me (how could it not!), I still feel like me. Yes, there are physical changes because of the surgery, but I have to laugh today because my biggest complaint is my weight! Gee, that doesn't sound any different than most of the women I know. So, I'm changed, yet I'm "normal."
My sweet husband was looking at me last (really looking), and he said "I don't know why we were so worried about this." (This indicating my chest). He stated that my surgery didn't make any difference. He said "you're still here -- and you're still you."
So, bring on the birthdays -- bring on the blessings of every day. A few more scars don't make a difference in my every day life -- heck, I hope they make me even stronger. I'm a survivor.
God is good and Birthdays are a blessing.
Keep on Truckin' everyone...
Last year, two days before my birthday, we received my sarcoma diagnosis. Round #2 with cancer was here. I wrote in my journal "Back on the Roller Coaster." That's what battling cancer is like - a roller coaster ride. There are so many ups and downs, thrills and scary parts, and yep, even some laughter. But it's all there. It's quite a ride.
This year on my birthday, it was difficult remembering where we were a year ago. Difficult in the sense that all those emotions are still simmering just below the surface. It was so easy to recall how we felt in 2009. We were facing such an unknown.
But it's already been a year since diagnosis. In some ways it seems like yesterday, but for the most part, it feels like a year. So much has happened. And the roller coaster ride has definitely settled down to a straight-away. Only a few dips and curves recently.
It was quite a year, birthday-to-birthday. In the long run, I'm glad to have that first year behind me. To know I'm able to keep moving forward.
Although being on the cancer roller coaster has changed me (how could it not!), I still feel like me. Yes, there are physical changes because of the surgery, but I have to laugh today because my biggest complaint is my weight! Gee, that doesn't sound any different than most of the women I know. So, I'm changed, yet I'm "normal."
My sweet husband was looking at me last (really looking), and he said "I don't know why we were so worried about this." (This indicating my chest). He stated that my surgery didn't make any difference. He said "you're still here -- and you're still you."
So, bring on the birthdays -- bring on the blessings of every day. A few more scars don't make a difference in my every day life -- heck, I hope they make me even stronger. I'm a survivor.
God is good and Birthdays are a blessing.
Keep on Truckin' everyone...
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Bravery and the "new" Normal
My daughter said the coolest thing to me the other day – she commented that I had been through so much over the last year and that she could tell I was very brave and getting braver. What a nice thing to hear! (Of course, I’m blessed with awesome kids.)
But she got me to thinking … am I brave? While undergoing testing and surgery, you almost have no choice but to go with the flow and get through everything. You have to suck it up, find courage and deal with it all.
Now, all of that is done. And I’m facing the question of how am I going to spend the rest of my life. This “new” normal is tricky some days. Yes, you want to take the bull by the horns and just go for it in life. Yet other times, well, it’s difficult to make plans. You’re almost afraid to plan too far into the future and get your hopes up. It takes a long time for this cloud of cancer to quit hanging above your head. In the back of your mind, you wonder is my cancer coming back? Am I really through with all of this?
I know what many of you are thinking: then why not go for the gusto with your life? It seems so easy, doesn’t it?
Well, maybe this is all a good sign that I’m getting back to “normal.” (As my doctor said today: Normal is good. We like normal and boring!). Right now, I’m more concerned about putting together a perfect book proposal to present to an editor that I had a casual conversation with last week. Hence, the reason my daughter said I was getting braver. I’m not sure I would’ve had the nerve to ask about sending her a book proposal before this. I’m nervous about continuing my writing career – about really making a go of it. Yet, I can’t quite imagine doing anything else.
So, in reality, I guess I’m no different than anyone else contemplating their future. Wow – is this really what normal feels like??
If so, then it’s time to let this fear go – ALL OF IT! Fear of cancer, fear of failure…fear of success…. It’s time to show just how brave I can be. Of course, there is no bravery – there is no courage without God.
God and my faith ARE my “new” normal.
But she got me to thinking … am I brave? While undergoing testing and surgery, you almost have no choice but to go with the flow and get through everything. You have to suck it up, find courage and deal with it all.
Now, all of that is done. And I’m facing the question of how am I going to spend the rest of my life. This “new” normal is tricky some days. Yes, you want to take the bull by the horns and just go for it in life. Yet other times, well, it’s difficult to make plans. You’re almost afraid to plan too far into the future and get your hopes up. It takes a long time for this cloud of cancer to quit hanging above your head. In the back of your mind, you wonder is my cancer coming back? Am I really through with all of this?
I know what many of you are thinking: then why not go for the gusto with your life? It seems so easy, doesn’t it?
Well, maybe this is all a good sign that I’m getting back to “normal.” (As my doctor said today: Normal is good. We like normal and boring!). Right now, I’m more concerned about putting together a perfect book proposal to present to an editor that I had a casual conversation with last week. Hence, the reason my daughter said I was getting braver. I’m not sure I would’ve had the nerve to ask about sending her a book proposal before this. I’m nervous about continuing my writing career – about really making a go of it. Yet, I can’t quite imagine doing anything else.
So, in reality, I guess I’m no different than anyone else contemplating their future. Wow – is this really what normal feels like??
If so, then it’s time to let this fear go – ALL OF IT! Fear of cancer, fear of failure…fear of success…. It’s time to show just how brave I can be. Of course, there is no bravery – there is no courage without God.
God and my faith ARE my “new” normal.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Courageous Warriors
If anyone knows a little about me they know I'm a tennis fan -- well, more like -- fanatic. My husband refers to himself as a "tennis widower" when the Grand Slams roll around. To all you spouses who complain about being "football widows," you've got nothing compared to my poor hubby when tennis is on! I've been known to rearrange my entire sleep schedule just to watch all the action "live." It's rough when it's the Australian Open.
Wimbledon is going on right now. And like a lot of people, it's difficult not to overlook the event of the last three days at the tournament: the amazing, record-shattering, marathon match between American John Isner and France's Nicolas Mahut. Go to any sports page or Wimbledon.org and you can see the mind-blowing statistics that have re-written the history books. It's one of those very rare matches when you're sad it's over because they're has to be a winner and a loser. In reality, there were no losers today. Nicolas Mahut has no reason to hang his head. Both Mahut and Isner were warriors, on another level, showing the best of competition, sportsmanship, and courage. It's one of the reasons I like tennis so much. You can leave it all out there on the court, yet you shake hands with your opponent at the end of the day.
Most of us know that you need to be courageous when fighting cancer. Whether you're the patient or the loved one, courage is a must, along with the courage to leave it all in God's hands. And I hope I'm respectful during the battle and once the battle is complete. I hope to be polite, courteous, and respectful of the doctors and nurses, and all those who take part in my care. All the way to the accounting office when there's confusion on a bill -- I hope I don't take my frustrations out on the poor woman calling me when there's been a billing error.
In life, I hope I am courageous -- courageous enough to hang in there when the seas are rough, or courageous enough to go for it and take a chance on my dreams. To train, put in the difficult work, and be gracious no matter what.
Isner and Mahut could've quit on their dreams. Or even quit during this tennis match and the world would've been without this great day in sports. But instead they were their own kind of champion for over 11 hours of unprecedented tennis. No one lost today. Eventually, I hope this match will be a sweet memory for Mahut as I know it will be for Isner. We are all richer for witnessing their drama.
I want to live my life going for my dreams, fighting the hard fight, yet walking away a winner just in the way I've conducted myself and treated those around me. If in my everyday life, through my writing, and having the courage to put it all out there can touch someone because I didn't quit, well, then I know I'm living my life the way God intended.
I want to always be that kind of courageous warrior.
Wimbledon is going on right now. And like a lot of people, it's difficult not to overlook the event of the last three days at the tournament: the amazing, record-shattering, marathon match between American John Isner and France's Nicolas Mahut. Go to any sports page or Wimbledon.org and you can see the mind-blowing statistics that have re-written the history books. It's one of those very rare matches when you're sad it's over because they're has to be a winner and a loser. In reality, there were no losers today. Nicolas Mahut has no reason to hang his head. Both Mahut and Isner were warriors, on another level, showing the best of competition, sportsmanship, and courage. It's one of the reasons I like tennis so much. You can leave it all out there on the court, yet you shake hands with your opponent at the end of the day.
Most of us know that you need to be courageous when fighting cancer. Whether you're the patient or the loved one, courage is a must, along with the courage to leave it all in God's hands. And I hope I'm respectful during the battle and once the battle is complete. I hope to be polite, courteous, and respectful of the doctors and nurses, and all those who take part in my care. All the way to the accounting office when there's confusion on a bill -- I hope I don't take my frustrations out on the poor woman calling me when there's been a billing error.
In life, I hope I am courageous -- courageous enough to hang in there when the seas are rough, or courageous enough to go for it and take a chance on my dreams. To train, put in the difficult work, and be gracious no matter what.
Isner and Mahut could've quit on their dreams. Or even quit during this tennis match and the world would've been without this great day in sports. But instead they were their own kind of champion for over 11 hours of unprecedented tennis. No one lost today. Eventually, I hope this match will be a sweet memory for Mahut as I know it will be for Isner. We are all richer for witnessing their drama.
I want to live my life going for my dreams, fighting the hard fight, yet walking away a winner just in the way I've conducted myself and treated those around me. If in my everyday life, through my writing, and having the courage to put it all out there can touch someone because I didn't quit, well, then I know I'm living my life the way God intended.
I want to always be that kind of courageous warrior.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Re-Birthday - A devotional
Whether we like it or not, birthdays keep coming. How do you celebrate your birthday? Do you dread it – knowing there are a few more wrinkles or more gray hair? Do you just feel “old?” Or do you say, Thank you, God. Thank you for my time here, serving you.
I had cancer last year. My diagnosis came two days before my birthday. And does something like that change your perspective about your birthday! Suddenly my age didn’t matter. In fact, on my birthday, I didn’t think about the number, about how old I was turning. What originally had been “uh oh, I’m making the turn for the downhill slide toward 50”, very quickly became “I’m too young.” I’m too young to be faced with another bout of cancer that could kill me. There’s so much more I had left to do.
So, this year’s birthday became my “re-birthday.” A time to re-dedicate myself to Christ. A time to say: Am I doing what God wants me to do here on earth? Am I dedicating myself to God in my everyday life, in how I live my life? Does it reflect Him? Is His light shining through me?
Hebrews, Chapter 12, verse 2 says very simply: “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus.”
But we know we’re all sinners. There are days when we fall short. Yet as Christians, we know if we ask, God will forgive us and wipe the slate clean. Does that mean there aren’t any consequences for our actions? No. We know better than that. Sometimes what we do can leave scars.
Now, I’m real familiar with scars. Over 25 years ago, I was in a motorcycle accident. Riding on the back of my then-boyfriend’s bike on a wonderful summer day. A pick-up truck turned in front of us and we had nowhere to go. We slid sideways into the truck.
I had a compound fracture of my right femur and ended up having four operations on my leg. As you can imagine, that left a scar—quite a long one – that goes from my knee all the way up to the top of my leg. My husband calls it my zipper.
Now, I have more scars across my chest. There are two ways you can look at scars. It’s easy to look at scars and believe they’re ugly and disfiguring. With scars, you know you’ll never look the same way again as you did before.
Or you can look at scars as a sign of strength and survival, as God’s blessing. You may ask yourself “What? Scars as a blessing? After the trauma that caused them?”
Yes, scars are a blessing. My scars tell me that I’m still here. That God carried me through those surgeries, and that He has work for me to do here on earth.
I remember the day, after I got home from the hospital from having my mastectomy. My husband and I chose to look at my chest together – to look at my scars. I think we were both so worried about how the other one would react, that we didn’t think much about our own reaction!
In the long run, my husband said I was beautiful. He told me that every time he saw those scars, he would be thankful, because it meant that I was still here. My scars are a blessing. They remind us every day how present God is in our life. God is always working through us.
There’s a wonderful old hymn, written in 1922:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in his wonderful face
And the things of earth will go strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace
So, on my next birthday, as I continue my downhill run toward 50, I’m not going to moan about my gray hair, or the deepening of my crow’s feet. I want to have a re-birthday. I want it to be a celebration, and a re-dedication of my life to God. He gave me this life, and I want to use it for His purpose.
As I mentioned, my diagnosis came two days before my birthday, which was a Friday. I had already talked with my doctor, and was grappling with the emotional side of being told I had cancer again. Then the mail came. There was a package from my mother – a birthday present.
With tears still in my eyes from hearing the devastating cancer news, I opened my present. Inside was a silver necklace. And on it was one word: BELIEVE.
Mom later told me she doesn’t know why she sent me the necklace. It had been a gift to her. But she doesn’t wear silver…ever. So, it was just sitting in her jewelry box, never to be worn. As my birthday approached, Mom thought she’d send it to me, not knowing it would arrive on such an awful day.
Yet, although I was facing a long journey with cancer, and facing another birthday, there, in my hands, was a reminder to stay strong and believe.
Believe that God has a plan for your life. Enjoy every moment of getting older. You can’t go back anyway. I’m excited to see what God has in store for me. So, on my birthday, or any day, I want to take time to thank God for my life and to re-dedicate myself to Him. To really dedicate myself to what His will is for me. I may show a few battle scars from life, but if my eyes are focused on Him, then His light will shine. His light is more beautiful than any cosmetic I can apply anyway. It’s not just a birthday; I want to have a re-birthday -- focused on Him --- and just BELIEVE.
So, how will you celebrate your next birthday?
I had cancer last year. My diagnosis came two days before my birthday. And does something like that change your perspective about your birthday! Suddenly my age didn’t matter. In fact, on my birthday, I didn’t think about the number, about how old I was turning. What originally had been “uh oh, I’m making the turn for the downhill slide toward 50”, very quickly became “I’m too young.” I’m too young to be faced with another bout of cancer that could kill me. There’s so much more I had left to do.
So, this year’s birthday became my “re-birthday.” A time to re-dedicate myself to Christ. A time to say: Am I doing what God wants me to do here on earth? Am I dedicating myself to God in my everyday life, in how I live my life? Does it reflect Him? Is His light shining through me?
Hebrews, Chapter 12, verse 2 says very simply: “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus.”
But we know we’re all sinners. There are days when we fall short. Yet as Christians, we know if we ask, God will forgive us and wipe the slate clean. Does that mean there aren’t any consequences for our actions? No. We know better than that. Sometimes what we do can leave scars.
Now, I’m real familiar with scars. Over 25 years ago, I was in a motorcycle accident. Riding on the back of my then-boyfriend’s bike on a wonderful summer day. A pick-up truck turned in front of us and we had nowhere to go. We slid sideways into the truck.
I had a compound fracture of my right femur and ended up having four operations on my leg. As you can imagine, that left a scar—quite a long one – that goes from my knee all the way up to the top of my leg. My husband calls it my zipper.
Now, I have more scars across my chest. There are two ways you can look at scars. It’s easy to look at scars and believe they’re ugly and disfiguring. With scars, you know you’ll never look the same way again as you did before.
Or you can look at scars as a sign of strength and survival, as God’s blessing. You may ask yourself “What? Scars as a blessing? After the trauma that caused them?”
Yes, scars are a blessing. My scars tell me that I’m still here. That God carried me through those surgeries, and that He has work for me to do here on earth.
I remember the day, after I got home from the hospital from having my mastectomy. My husband and I chose to look at my chest together – to look at my scars. I think we were both so worried about how the other one would react, that we didn’t think much about our own reaction!
In the long run, my husband said I was beautiful. He told me that every time he saw those scars, he would be thankful, because it meant that I was still here. My scars are a blessing. They remind us every day how present God is in our life. God is always working through us.
There’s a wonderful old hymn, written in 1922:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in his wonderful face
And the things of earth will go strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace
So, on my next birthday, as I continue my downhill run toward 50, I’m not going to moan about my gray hair, or the deepening of my crow’s feet. I want to have a re-birthday. I want it to be a celebration, and a re-dedication of my life to God. He gave me this life, and I want to use it for His purpose.
As I mentioned, my diagnosis came two days before my birthday, which was a Friday. I had already talked with my doctor, and was grappling with the emotional side of being told I had cancer again. Then the mail came. There was a package from my mother – a birthday present.
With tears still in my eyes from hearing the devastating cancer news, I opened my present. Inside was a silver necklace. And on it was one word: BELIEVE.
Mom later told me she doesn’t know why she sent me the necklace. It had been a gift to her. But she doesn’t wear silver…ever. So, it was just sitting in her jewelry box, never to be worn. As my birthday approached, Mom thought she’d send it to me, not knowing it would arrive on such an awful day.
Yet, although I was facing a long journey with cancer, and facing another birthday, there, in my hands, was a reminder to stay strong and believe.
Believe that God has a plan for your life. Enjoy every moment of getting older. You can’t go back anyway. I’m excited to see what God has in store for me. So, on my birthday, or any day, I want to take time to thank God for my life and to re-dedicate myself to Him. To really dedicate myself to what His will is for me. I may show a few battle scars from life, but if my eyes are focused on Him, then His light will shine. His light is more beautiful than any cosmetic I can apply anyway. It’s not just a birthday; I want to have a re-birthday -- focused on Him --- and just BELIEVE.
So, how will you celebrate your next birthday?
Sunday, May 30, 2010
A New Routine?
With my recent good news of clear scans, I'm trying to get back to "normal." However, resuming a normal routine is not as easy as it sounds, at least for me.
When you're first diagnosed with cancer, all you want to have is your normal routine, even though in reality, your life is anything but routine or normal. Gradually, cancer sucks you into its world, a world of hospitals, doctors, appointments, treatment options, overwhelming information to process, and difficult decisions to make. Your routine is definitely disrupted.
By the time you get through surgery, any follow-up treatments, and you're into recovery and received the blessing of great news, it takes a while to re-engage and to realize the doctor visits are a little less frequent and there are no more treatment decisions to make. You can return to your real life, to have control again (although we all know the God is the one in control.)
So, what do I do from here? How can you go back to being normal when nothing feels normal anymore? Trust me, this isn't a complaint. It's a good issue to have. And I'm slowly re-engaging. It just feels strange sometimes to be "normal" again and try to find that routine of life.
I can't help but think: Now, that I've gone through all this cancer stuff, how do I spend the rest of my life?
God is in control.
Keep on truckin' everyone!
When you're first diagnosed with cancer, all you want to have is your normal routine, even though in reality, your life is anything but routine or normal. Gradually, cancer sucks you into its world, a world of hospitals, doctors, appointments, treatment options, overwhelming information to process, and difficult decisions to make. Your routine is definitely disrupted.
By the time you get through surgery, any follow-up treatments, and you're into recovery and received the blessing of great news, it takes a while to re-engage and to realize the doctor visits are a little less frequent and there are no more treatment decisions to make. You can return to your real life, to have control again (although we all know the God is the one in control.)
So, what do I do from here? How can you go back to being normal when nothing feels normal anymore? Trust me, this isn't a complaint. It's a good issue to have. And I'm slowly re-engaging. It just feels strange sometimes to be "normal" again and try to find that routine of life.
I can't help but think: Now, that I've gone through all this cancer stuff, how do I spend the rest of my life?
God is in control.
Keep on truckin' everyone!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Rejoicing with Happy News
This week has been a long one, but a good one. I had an MRI on Monday and a chest/arm CT yesterday. And praise God, praise God -- everything is clear, normal, no signs of anything! My doctors seem very pleased. This is obviously the best news we've received since last summer. I'm clear! What a blessing!
It's odd how a week like this makes you feel. I've alluded to the roller coaster ride before. It's still a roller coaster ride. Tests and doctors and needles, surprisingly, wear you out. By the time you receive the positive reports, you don't know whether to laugh, cry, get drunk, or have dessert! For me, I've laughed a little, cried a little, and had some wine. No dessert yet... :)
It truly is a joyous day - to really say I'm cancer-free. I have the gift of my health and my life. As much of a blow as it is to hear the diagnosis of cancer, and the spiral it puts your life in, it's just as mind-boggling trying to pull yourself out of that. Finding your real life again -- it's a journey.
I guess that's the point of this blog. Cancer changes you. Your perspective on life changes. It is the "new normal." I don't want to take anything for granted. I want to do the work God has intended for me here on earth. It's time to get to it, and not live every day with the cancer cloud hanging over my head.
The Bible verse I cling to is familiar to many of us: Jeremiah 29:11.
It says: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
As wonderful as these words are, I think my favorite verses are 12 and 13, which say: "Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. (13) You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." (NIV)
We sought God with all of our hearts and He listened to our prayers. He blessed us immensely from the day of diagnosis through the good news today. The least I can do is take this gift of a new life and do my best for Him. To live the life God intended for me.
I have work to do and I need to get to it...as soon as I finish my celebratory wine! Cheers! :)
Keep on truckin' everyone.
It's odd how a week like this makes you feel. I've alluded to the roller coaster ride before. It's still a roller coaster ride. Tests and doctors and needles, surprisingly, wear you out. By the time you receive the positive reports, you don't know whether to laugh, cry, get drunk, or have dessert! For me, I've laughed a little, cried a little, and had some wine. No dessert yet... :)
It truly is a joyous day - to really say I'm cancer-free. I have the gift of my health and my life. As much of a blow as it is to hear the diagnosis of cancer, and the spiral it puts your life in, it's just as mind-boggling trying to pull yourself out of that. Finding your real life again -- it's a journey.
I guess that's the point of this blog. Cancer changes you. Your perspective on life changes. It is the "new normal." I don't want to take anything for granted. I want to do the work God has intended for me here on earth. It's time to get to it, and not live every day with the cancer cloud hanging over my head.
The Bible verse I cling to is familiar to many of us: Jeremiah 29:11.
It says: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
As wonderful as these words are, I think my favorite verses are 12 and 13, which say: "Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. (13) You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." (NIV)
We sought God with all of our hearts and He listened to our prayers. He blessed us immensely from the day of diagnosis through the good news today. The least I can do is take this gift of a new life and do my best for Him. To live the life God intended for me.
I have work to do and I need to get to it...as soon as I finish my celebratory wine! Cheers! :)
Keep on truckin' everyone.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Caring for the Care-Giver
One of the most difficult things with having cancer was worrying about my husband and family. I think they have the hardest job. Yes, I was enduring surgery, and previously, radiation. But I had doctors, nurses, and others taking good care of me, and I really had no choice with what I had to go through as the patient. I was just along for the ride. But being the spouse of someone battling this disease is often times worse than being the patient. It's so difficult to sit on the sidelines and watch your loved one in pain or going through surgery. There's nothing worse than that helpless feeling. Who takes care of the care-giver?
No matter how many times I told my husband to take a break or make sure he was in good shape, he'd always say "It's not about me right now."
Well, in my mind, it was about him. He marvels that people from our church came to sit with him and pray during my surgery. He doesn't understand that having our friends with him so he wouldn't be alone made ME feel better. I wanted him to feel love and supported. It doesn't do us any good as patients to watch our loved ones run themselves ragged.
While being a cancer patient is often a lonely road, I believe being the spouse or a loved-one of a cancer patient is often lonelier and scarier.
The next time you go see a sick friend, or visit a patient in the hospital, make sure you take the time to do something special for the spouse of that patient. Let them know they really aren't alone and that people care about them as much as they care about the patient. Take them out for coffee and let them talk. Listen to them. They have just as many fears as the cancer patient does. Maybe more...
Take care of the care-giver. It's good medicine for all of us.
Keep on truckin' everyone!
No matter how many times I told my husband to take a break or make sure he was in good shape, he'd always say "It's not about me right now."
Well, in my mind, it was about him. He marvels that people from our church came to sit with him and pray during my surgery. He doesn't understand that having our friends with him so he wouldn't be alone made ME feel better. I wanted him to feel love and supported. It doesn't do us any good as patients to watch our loved ones run themselves ragged.
While being a cancer patient is often a lonely road, I believe being the spouse or a loved-one of a cancer patient is often lonelier and scarier.
The next time you go see a sick friend, or visit a patient in the hospital, make sure you take the time to do something special for the spouse of that patient. Let them know they really aren't alone and that people care about them as much as they care about the patient. Take them out for coffee and let them talk. Listen to them. They have just as many fears as the cancer patient does. Maybe more...
Take care of the care-giver. It's good medicine for all of us.
Keep on truckin' everyone!
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