What is The Biggest Question?

12/18/18

Cancer. Why does that word bring a gasp, an extra heartbeat, a heavy chest, a picture of someone we know? Because it literally affects just about each and every person in this world. We all have a connection to cancer because we have it or had it or through someone we know or someone we know who knows someone. There are cancer treatment centers in many towns, because it affects so many people and the need for a nearby center that focuses only on this disease is crucial. Every single day thousands of people are diagnosed with cancer, and thousands of people are treated for cancer.

Cancer. What does that mean? We see the effects of the treatment, but what exactly is cancer? The long and short of it: Our body is made up of trillions of cells, and sometimes those cells turn abnormal for one reason or another. Because cells divide, an abnormal cell divides and it does so rapidly for there is nothing to keep it in check. It can appear in so many forms, it is unbelievable; or not appear in any form on the outside which is more unbelievable. I think there are signs that maybe we overlook as regular aches and pains, but it shows itself most of the time in some form or other. My cancer appeared as a knot in my lower abdomen which was an ovary that was taken over by the cancer. I had a sign, but I was also at the tail end of puberty, so we were keeping an eye on it. I was very healthy and had no other symptoms. Because the abnormal cells divided so rapidly, my tumor was very large when the doctors opened me up.

Modern medicine has found a way to test this silent killer through different types of abnormal cell killers. Once a diagnosis is in place an oncologist will work to get the best protocol which was tested on patients in a study and proved to get results as the best treatment. Chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, etc… Chemotherapy was the only cancer treatment I received when I was diagnosed. I received it in the form of an IV drip, orally in a pill, and through a spinal tap each month. My protocol set up by the doctor for Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma had seen great results in patients, and to this day this type of cancer has a high cure rate. We saw results very quickly, but we also had many prayers go up to the Great Physician on my behalf.

Cancer. Why? Why are so many people affected by this disease? I do not know. Everyone has their thoughts about it, but there are studies of things that are known to cause this disease. We all have heard of them. Why me? I do not know. Why my family? I do not know. You see, six months after my diagnosis, while I was still going through treatments, my mom went into the dermatologist and had a spot removed on her face. It was melanoma. Cancer again became the word in our home and affected another member of the family. It was a scary time. The doctor was confident that they removed everything, and she did not have to have treatment. We let out a sigh of relief to have such great news concerning her.

Why? That question is asked when cancer is a part of two members of a five-member family unit, and our story was not quite over in this department. But the question of “why” and others are asked by the family and those around us. It does not bother you when they are asked because it can be a healing process for you to talk about what you are going through. It can be a help for those asking the questions. They might be facing the same crises or a similar one and just need a word or two of encouragement they might receive through the same conversation.

Whatever reason for my life to see cancer is only answered through my Almighty God. For me and my family; God Said Cancer. The “why” has been answered thousands of times. First off, I did not have Him fully in my life as my God and my Savior. I accepted Him as my Redeemer less than a year after the diagnosis. Secondly, God said cancer and three months later God said no cancer. My body was full of disease and the three-month scans saw not a trace. Why cancer? So God could perform a miracle. Why cancer? So the people around us could pray for us and see God work… Why cancer? So our family would become strong together in a new community… Those around my parents in the work environment would see their strength and come to our little church… We could talk to the nurses and doctors about what God did for us… I would lose my hair and feel totally embarrassed and humbled which helped me realize I was not in control… We would get a little article in the paper about my diagnosis and our church… I would lose all hope in the middle of the protocol and see God bring heart and nausea medicine to help me… Our community would come together and raise money for our cause, and remember it well when we speak to them on visits… We would travel as a family to the National Spelling Bee… These are just a few of the reasons up to this point in the journaling of our story. There are so many more before this.

Hebrews 13:21 is talking about how the God of peace “Make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is wellpleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” Every single thing in our lives is there to help us be more like Him who is working to show others the glory that is due Him. In the moment, super duper hard, but so very important. They say hindsight is 20/20, but I want my foresight to be 20/20 and want to remember to ask God for this.

Cancer. Mine is hindsight, others is now, and still others are in the future. Why? Because God has amazing things to show us. And He had amazing things to show me as I continued my journey past the one-year mark.

Only God Can Do That

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11/27/18

Winter 1990 and 1991

Mint chocolate chip or peanut butter? Pepperoni or cheese? Wood or painted? SUV or sedan? Right and wrong? Choices are constantly in our lives and sometimes staring us in the face asking for us to make a decision that instant. What do we do for those major decisions? Pray and seek counsel from those around us that have most likely been faced with something similar. The little choices do not seem as important but can really change some things in our lives depending on what choice we make.

I was up against choices that changed my life forever. Since cancer had already done that, it was my turn. My dad and I were driving out toward the house, and he asked me a question that rocked my world. Had I thought about dying? Because he had known from his point of view that I had been at death’s door. Of course not! It did not even cross my mind at all. My only thoughts about cancer were that it was the worst thing that ever happened to me; I hated every minute of the fact I could not be a normal teenager, and stupid chemo made me lose my hair! No reason to talk about dying because I was going to be done with chemotherapy in less than a year and so long cancer.

I did not admit it, but his question scared me, and I spent the next few weeks in anguish. You see, when I was five, I knelt at a chair with my aunt and prayed the sinner’s prayer, but during elementary school I went to a Christian school and my teachers would always talk about where we would go if we were to die. I remember getting the opportunity to pray a couple of times on my knees near the chalkboard, and each time I asked God to save me if I was not saved. I knew I was not 100% sure if I had not woken up from surgery that I would have gone to Heaven. On January 5, 1991, I accepted the Lord as my Savior and felt a relief beyond all measure. I also felt like maybe things were getting better for me as a person.

That changed quickly. Around March, I had had enough of doctors, chemo, heart problems and the world. School was pretty difficult, and my headaches were unbearable. Nothing seemed to even scrape the surface and give me any relief. My heart condition was getting extremely out of control. I could not stop it right away, and it made me a nervous wreck. Throwing up for 24 hours was the last straw. I was so totally and absolutely done with puking. So I was walking into another chemo hoping for a low blood count so I could go home. When the doctor came in and said the counts were good, I made a choice to leave. I told my mom I was done, I was not going to do chemo, and I did not care if I died. This awful, this horrible disease was destroying my spirit and my wherewithal to live.

I got up and tried to get out of the room. But mom stood between me and the door and told me that I was not leaving, we were going to stick with this. Through tears and sobbing from both of us, we had a verbal and mental struggle with each other, and me with the devil because I was not going to stay there. Our memories of the day are a little different, but we both know God took control of it from that point. I sat back down on the bed, and mom kept telling me we were going to beat this thing; we had come this far and had six months left. Literally, within minutes the cardiologist stopped in and asked us to come over and discuss a new drug that came out for my condition. It was taking control of the rapid heartbeats, and patients were seeing improvement in the number of episodes a person was experiencing. He said our only other option was open heart surgery, and my body could not survive that on cancer treatments. Right after we returned from the cardiologist, the oncologist came in and said they were ready for the spinal tap, and by the way, a nausea medicine that helped with the length of time a chemo patient threw up just made its way to the department. I would be the first to try it out if I was interested. We said we definitely would try it out.

In less than an hour my choice to leave, my mom’s strong and convincing words to stay, and my choice to stay changed the next six months of my life. Both drugs really did just what we were told they would do. If I remember right, I did not have another heart episode during that period of time, and my nausea stopped at the twelve-hour mark. We said then and say now, only God can and did do that. Just like my God gave me a clear scan and blood work from three-month post diagnosis until now, thirty-three years later; only God can do that.

Stories like this could not possibly be true, but I am a living testament that they are. God showed Himself to us so strong and powerful, there was no question in our minds and thousands of others that have heard the story. It was He who did it. Why do I forget that miracle in my life? Why do I go through things right now and struggle to see God working? Where is my focus? I submit that it is not on God but on myself and the difficult situation I am in. I try hard to remember where God has brought me from and what He has done in my life. Little things like not complaining about a bad hair day are at the forefront of mind, and the reason why should be, too.

God is so good to me, and I am truly, truly blessed to be able to say that only God could do that.

The Last Time We…

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Summer 1990

Have you ever been through a time in your life when you think, “Oh, this will be the last time that we will…?” Or someone says, “Let’s make sure to plan a get together because it will be the last time…” I can recall when my siblings and I were finding our significant others and the family got together for dinner “the last time as singles before the wedding.” There was another time right before we had our first baby when my husband and I went to pizza with our close friends and over to their house for Trivia Pursuit. Our baby was due that weekend, and I was pretty sure he was coming any minute, but we needed to get together that last time as childless couples. And we were a little crazy; he was born less than twenty-four hours later.

As the children in our family and our siblings’ families get older, we have been discussing a family trip before they graduate. Life has these “last times” around many corners. When I entered the hospital doors for the first time a few months back, having it be the last time I might see the outdoors was far from my mind. It almost was the last time I would see the snow piled up in the back of the parking lot or hear the birds chirping or see the new buds on the trees. I went in with a tumor in my stomach and miraculously came out, but with cancer in its place, an IV tube sticking out of my chest, and an incision eighteen inches long on my abdomen, among other things. Praise the Lord, it did not become my last time to walk out, and I was thankful.

Because the future was not certain, our extended family engaged in discussion with my parents about getting together. We had only been away for two years, but a much needed “family reunion” was put in the works. We have family in states all over the country, literally from sea to shining sea and border to border, so this would be an extensive undertaking. But plans were made, and everyone agreed on Yellowstone National Park. The great outdoors, and close to our home and the hospital and doctors. Chemotherapy was not going to stop for a family reunion, so as many as were able made the trip across the country to meet up at a place at the base of the Teton Mountains outside of Jackson, Wyoming. It was a little ranch with hotel style rooms where the families could divide up and stay. There was a nearby pond where everyone could go fishing, and a meandering creek and trees where exploring was invited. We congregated for meals and football tossing, and then we went inside the park to see the wonderful sights of Yellowstone.

The memories are worth mentioning because the past ups and downs of the family were shared with these members who supported us along the way. My family needed this time to be encouraged and energized by seeing their families again. One memory most of us would mention about the trip was the name of the ranch. It was at a place in the creek where it split off thus giving it the name Split Creek Ranch, which by the way to my family members reading, I looked it up and found it is still there. Maybe we need another family reunion! Anyway, one particular family member videoed most of the trip for all of us on VHS tape. Her announcement as she would sign on would always have the location where she was at the ranch, but with a different name. As we watch the tapes, we love hearing Split Rock Ranch or Split Creek Rock Ranch or whatever she decided to call it that time. Absolutely hilarious, and it kept my spirits up laughing, not at her just with her about her struggles with the name. She has now gone on to be with Jesus, so these memories are priceless.

Another memory was getting all of us to see Old Faithful when it was time to go off. We waited for ever and the littles AND bigs were restless, so we decided to leave and head to the next sight. Again, this event had to do with the video camera. As we were about to the car, Old Faithful began what it does best, and started to go off. We heard it, and one of the cousins grabbed the video camera and began running with it, unbeknownst to him that it was on. So for about 30 seconds you see his feet and hear his huffing and puffing plus you can hear the geyser in the background. He slows down and brings the camera up, only to have the battery die before it focuses on the geyser. We all watched it when we got back and were laughing our way through the week with the effort and the technology fail. By the way, these memories are ingrained in all of us because they are talked about when we see each other.

The last time together? Well, that was a possibility, and we could never repay our family for their efforts. But we are family. Efforts are worth it because we are family. That same family still makes effort to see each other, and it is so very special. I will not be able to stop and name off all the family members that came, but to each of you, I am so thankful for you and what you did. Once again, the memories are priceless. Those that could not come, prayed for us, and I am a direct result of God’s healing power through the prayers of others. So they were there in spirit.

Families pass on memories. How do we have God’s Word so preciously passed on to us? Through those that share it with others. God asked us to, “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature,” Mark 16:15. We do not have to be preachers to share God’s love and what He did for us. He is telling us to share it with the cashier, the waitress, our children’s teammates’ parents we sit next to at every game, our friends and neighbors. Whomever we cross paths with, we need to make sure they are certain where they will go if their life ended tomorrow. It is a challenge to be a witness, because what if it was their last time…

Spring In Our Steps

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11/6/18

April 1990

Home again, home again. We had made it through a crises on top of our crisis. Phew! I was so happy to return home and feel like a normal person. I started to feel like I could do more things and be more myself. Our middle school was having their spring concert, and since I had been in choir before I went into the hospital and my brother was performing as well, I asked if I could go. Dad and mom loaded us up, and when we got there I used a wheelchair because I was still pretty weak. I was able to see so many of my friends, I felt rejuvenated. They dedicated the concert to me, and the next day there was a picture of me sitting in the wheelchair watching the concert on the front page of the local paper. Unbeknownst to us, a reporter from the paper was there to do a story about the concert and heard about what had transpired with our family. You see, we were one of the only Baptist churches in town, and the article mentioned that dad was the pastor at Uinta Bible Baptist Church. God has ways to invite people to church and sometimes it is not through an invitation at the door or work. The whole town knew about us now. At this same time, I wanted to start working on my school work. The school sent out a tutor to help me get through the massive amount of assignments, and I worked extremely hard to get caught up.

My biggest fear came true-my hair started to thin. Mom took me to town one day to get a shorter haircut and take some pictures at the local photographer. She wanted to put together a prayer card to send out to the hundreds of people that had sent cards and gifts to us during my hospitals stays. I was hoping that my hair situation would stay in this mode; just be thin. I mean, I had met kids at the hospital that were on chemo, and they had not lost their hair. I was in denial, because I had seen way more bald heads than ones with hair.

Months before, my parents had made plans to go on a trip for spring break and Easter. We had made quick friends with a family in our church after we arrived in Evanston, but they were moved to Denver for work right before my diagnosis. After much discussion, they decided we should travel down and go on the trip. We had a fantastic visit, but Easter morning about a month and a week after my first encounter with a doctor, my hair began to come out is handfuls. I was in the bathroom brushing my hair and yelled for my mom to come in. I had brushed a massive amount of hair out in the brush. Crying might be an understatement for my reaction. You see, I had had plenty of emotions; tears of pain, anger at doctors and nurses just trying to help me, determination to get better, happiness when getting to go home. You name it, I had run through the gamut of emotions, but this loss of my identity was more than I could handle. Mom started crying as she kept brushing to get the hair contained. When she was done I was basically completely bald and totally devastated and drained of all emotion.

Mom had known this was going to happen, and we had chosen a wig from a store near the hospital when we left the last time. I had told her I did not want to walk around bald like most of the other kids. Showing off my bald head was something that was really hard for me to embrace, so she had spent quite a bit of money on a nice wig. She had brought it with us to Denver along with a couple of scarves and bandanas.

She brought them to the bathroom, and we tried them on. At the time, I was not able to see myself with the wig on, so I chose a bandana. Everyone had left for the church service, and I had mixed emotions about going. We finally decided to go since we hated to miss the Easter service. I was absolutely embarrassed at the way I looked, but our friends were kind and caring about what had transpired. I do remember being glad to go back to their home. The next time I had to leave the house was not so bad, and the next time, and the next time. When we returned home, I started wearing the wig exclusively and only the bandana at night or at chemo. Mom had purchased a Styrofoam head that I put the wig on, and I would style it to make it look more like how I would wear my hair. It was difficult to keep the wig on my bald head, so I used double sided tape to stick it to my scalp, and most days I wore a headband that went all the way around my head to keep it on. At thirteen years old, losing my hair could not have been more traumatic. Everything else faded into the background in comparison to what I looked like on the outside. My looks were my identity and that identity had changed so much with the hair loss.

With the wig on tight, I entered the middle school doors again for the last few weeks of school. I was all caught up with the assignments I had missed and the ones the teachers sent home in case I did not return. Some classes were behind what I had worked on so I was super excited to be back, not playing catch up, and among my friends. I still had to miss every two weeks for a chemo. They were getting to be pretty intense with the side effects. I would basically go to school on the day of chemo until the very last minute I had to get in the car, and then we would either go to Salt Lake or the pediatrician’s office in town. I would be sick for about twenty-four hours, which would make me miss one day of school, and I would head back to school the second day after chemo. I was able to keep up and at the end of May, my friends and I had eighth grade promotion. We were headed to high school!

“Oh, God, you are my God, and I will ever praise you. I will seek you in the morning, and I will learn to walk in your ways. And step by step you’ll lead me, and I will follow you all of my days.” This song is written by David Strasser. I love this song. Step by step; that is the only way I can describe this journey. Each and every step forward, no matter if it is followed by two steps back, is another step in a direction that God is leading. Do we understand why we are taking that step forward in a situation that feels absolutely devastating? We do. Because our Christian life began with a step. A change from our old ways into a new life with Christ. What an awesome step of faith; becoming a child of God! What an awesome step of faith; believing He is in control of our __________________. We each can fill in the blank with what we are going through. We can have absolute faith and confidence that if we follow, God will lead ALL of our days.

What Is Happening Right Now?

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10/23/18

March 23, 1990

“It looks like we are going to send you home. You are tolerating the chemotherapy, you are keeping solids down, your bowels are functioning again after surgery, and you are moving around better.” Those doctor’s words were wonderful music to our ears! The other music had been screeching in our ears for two weeks, and we desperately needed a new genre. Constant beeping from the IV pole and the heart monitor, people talking in the halls, and the blood pressure machine every couple of hours. None of the milestones mentioned in the first line were expectations of the doctors when this all began. But God said otherwise.

Hospital stays are so difficult, or maybe it is just me. At the beginning, I was started on a liquid diet for a few days and lost quite a bit of weight. When Jello was allowed, there was orange, green, and yellow, but I really wanted to have red. Do you know the hospital did not make red Jello? After a couple of days, it appeared on my food tray, and I was absolutely ecstatic! They had made it just for me. After a few days, I began to feel better, and they started weaning me off of pain medication. I was more aware of my surroundings and sleeping less. I really wanted to go home.

By the time we received those joyous words that we were going home, I had received a chemotherapy drip, with the second one scheduled to be administered at my pediatrician’s office in a few days. Two different drips were on my eighteen-month protocol. One drip was two hours and would later be the one that I dreaded. It was associated with the spinal tap, and both of them combined would make me extremely sick. The other drip was four hours long and did not seem to hit me as hard. At any rate, I tolerated them at the hospital, which was a good sign for the doctors. We received tremendous care, and we all understood we would be seeing each other for months to come.

Being home was rejuvenating, but I spent more time sleeping than anything. I was about seventy pounds and pretty weak. It was nice to be around my dad and brothers again. A new group of people to draw strength from. They were a big help, and we settled into just working at getting me strong again. My mom headed back to work to catch up, and the boys continued to go to school. Things changed quickly though. Within a week, I was writhing in pain. Mom made calls to the doctor, and dad loaded me up in the car for a trip to the hospital.

As I mentioned before, Wyoming has winter. This was the first of April, and we had received a snowstorm. On our way to the hospital, dad hit black ice, and the van spun around, flipped, and landed on the passenger side on an embankment. I was in the front passenger seat and remember looking up and seeing my dad hanging from his seatbelt. We were alive, but in a very precarious situation. Dad told me to crawl on the window over the seat, and then I could unbuckle him. By this time, a man driving by had stopped and was talking to us from outside. He and dad decided to see if the back hatch would open up, and we crawled out. I had hurt my leg, maybe when we had landed on that side, so they carried me to his truck. He drove us to our original destination, the hospital, and they started to check on me. I kept saying that my dad was in the wreck, too, and I wanted them to make sure he was fine. Thankfully, we were both injury free.

There was more of situation with the reason we were coming to the hospital. The abdominal pain was excruciating, and my incision was started to come apart. After testing, it came back that I had a bowel obstruction which is a complication from the surgery. Also, the incision was not healing because of the chemotherapy interference. It lowers the white blood cells which are supposed to help in the healing process, and it is possible I had attracted some kind of infection.

I was about to hit rock bottom, and I am pretty sure my family was about to hit the superhero status. I Corinthians 10:13 says “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” How can one verse say so much about our God, our Christian lives, and the trials that come our way?

The View From the Mountaintop

10/13/18

3/15/1990

Even if you have no desire to embrace the cancer world, it does not take very long before it embraces you, and your family is plunged head first into a new life. The doctors showed us how much they cared about what was happening to us, and yet pushed my parents forward on decisions that needed to be made immediately. Once we got past the diagnosis and had a protocol in place, we hit the ground running.

I started chemotherapy the day after surgery and also had my first spinal tap. What an ordeal. They made me get in the tightest fetal position I could on my side so they could remove spinal fluid to make sure there was not cancer there, and then they replaced it with chemotherapy. If they did not replace it, I would get a massive headache they told us. Memories of a spinal tap make my stomach turn, and I feel nauseous because I can remember the gurgling sensation at the base of my skull and the cool sensation from the chemo. It is very much like an epidural administered when having a baby. Needless to say, the first tap was a hard one, because I had a gigantic incision on my stomach and sites on my hips from the bone marrow extraction. I was still on quite a bit of pain medication which was helpful but obviously not enough.

The first chemotherapy was uneventful. They administered the drip through an IV that was attached to a crazy apparatus that came out of the middle of my chest. It was basically an IV that had a needle insertion site, and it went up under my skin toward my collarbone and then down into my heart. This would allow the heart to pump the chemo to my body quickly. I really had no affects right away even though they told me about vomiting and hair loss. After a couple of days, I remember thinking that maybe I would not lose my hair; that was pretty important to me.

I was moved from ICU to a regular room. The hospital was really crowded so each room had two kiddos. We were reminded that the new hospital would be opening soon. You could tell the nurses were very excited about it. They did their best to make me comfortable, trying to get me to walk; I refused. Mom recalls that they decided to tell me I had to move rooms, but I would have to walk there. It worked, once I had to walk, I was confident that my stomach was not going to fall out and land on the floor. I still held a pillow on my belly for weeks. My scar was so giant, I kept thinking it looked like I was a gutted deer.

We would end up staying about two weeks in the hospital. The doctors wanted to watch my reactions to the chemo and make sure I was healing well, but mainly they really did not think I would leave. Of course, I was not aware of this; that was my only goal – TO leave. My mom was my rock during this time, comforting me in the pain and making me feel like I could keep moving forward. She was spent physically and emotionally, but never showed me or told me that she had had a fainting spell one morning. After a few days in the hospital, she came down with a migraine which caused a seizure where they had to take her to the regular hospital. That was scary for both of us. She did not want to leave me, and I did not want her to go.

My grandparents came up toward the end of our two weeks, and my grandmother gave my mom a break. Mom was able to go across the street to a room the hospital provided, and dad and mom were able to go for her birthday dinner one evening. As I mentioned before, we had many friends and visitors come by and spend time showing us how much they cared about what we were going through. The cards poured in. The school sent large butcher paper posters with encouraging comments from the whole student body. Churches all over the country sent envelopes filled with cards and notes from church members that we had never met. They cared about us still. They prayed for us still. It did not take much time to realize how important other people meant to us. God’s Word tells us He is our strength in times of trouble, and He hears prayers. Isaiah 40:29 tells us, “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” Psalm 66:20 says “Blessed be God, which hath not turned away my prayer, nor his mercy from me.” I know we as a family were living these verses.

Praying is like climbing a mountain. To climb a mountain, we look ahead and map our course not really knowing how hard it will be or even what the outcome will be. There is hope, right, that we can make it even when it gets hard, and we will get to see the amazing view from the top. And the view at the top is really hard to describe unless a person has seen it. When we pray, we have hope that God will map our course, show us where to go and know that no matter the outcome, we will be able to see the amazing view from the top.

I Am Not Sick

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10/7/18

3/15/90

In the faint distance I can hear myself yelling, but nothing is coming out of my mouth. Or was it? Inside I know I am yelling, and all I want to do is tell someone I am in so much pain. What is going on? Why is no one helping me? And then the yell comes out of my mouth, and I can hear someone tell me it is going to be ok. Be still, calm down, you are just waking up from surgery. But I am in so much pain; how can you tell me to calm down?

Waking up in the recovery room after surgery was a very strong memory. I could hear so many different noises; people talking, machines beeping, oxygen flowing, my own voice… And I could remember smells of antiseptic, Beda dine, rubbing alcohol… I was truly scared and was being picked up by the sheet under me and placed onto another bed. They pushed me through doors into ICU. Faint memories as I was in and out of consciousness were later filled in by my parents as they shared with me what transpired. I was very upset most of the time, mainly because I was in so much pain. At one point, I remember hearing my mom talking to the doctor, and she asked him how she was suppose to tell me I had cancer. My immediate thoughts were: What? They told us they were going to take this tumor out, and I was going home. This was not supposed to be happening.

Cancer?

That is so bad. I asked my mom if it was cancer, and she said yes. All I could do was cry, but did I really know what that meant? I fell back to sleep. Hours passed, and each time I woke up, I was more aware of my surroundings. The oncology doctor came in and greeted us with an amazingly kind and caring face. He made this crazy situation one that seemed not so crazy. He brought the comfort to the room. After a couple of days, we had a serious talk. He shared with us that I had Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and we would start a chemotherapy treatment the next day, then every two weeks for 18 months. Along with the chemo treatments they would do a spinal tap each month. My parents had already been given this information and what would be happening. It was my turn to hear it.

Later on my parents shared with me what went on while I was in surgery. During surgery, the doctor had reported to them that I had a tumor from my diaphragm down that covered my entire abdomen. He could not remove any of it because of the large amount of cancer and its proximity to the organs. One ovary was removed, which was used for the biopsy. This was the lump I felt that my mom and I had discussed a couple of weeks before. They had also done a bone marrow test, which is one of the main reasons I was in so much pain, and they had inserted a broviac line, an IV tube that came out of my chest for administering chemo drugs. My body was all riddled with stitches. When everything was done, I had an eighteen-inch-long incision down the middle of my stomach, and the cancer closed back in underneath it.

I was also connected to every hospital tube known to man and not a happy camper. It was extremely difficult for me to accept this whole ordeal. Mainly because I was healthy at the beginning of the week, so how could all of this be necessary? This silent killer called cancer was literally holding my life in the balance, and I did not realize my odds were not so good. I really just wanted to get out of there. In the next few days, my dad returned home to be with my brothers and brought them up to see us. My closest friend that I had met the first day in the new school in the new town, spent hours with me. She rallied the kids at school, and we also had many of them drive the 80 miles down and visit with us. Our wonderful church family and local pastors came up to spend time with my parents. The support we received was overwhelming. The hospital room filled to capacity with flowers, stuffed animals, balloons, large posters, and cards. The prayers filled in any space that was left.

II Timothy 1:7 “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” This verse refers to a believer and their ability to share Christ with others. We have been given power and love and a sound mind so we can share with others that God loves and wants each person to accept His Son to be their Savior. But this verse is also an encouragement to the believer in other ways. Fear is definitely an emotion that comes with cancer. Maybe it is the fear of what is going to happen next after what just unexpectedly happened last. With cancer there is never a plan that goes as planned; there is just a plan that goes. But God has a plan and sees that fear and brings a multitude of people with a multitude of loving hearts that bring before Him a multitude of prayers.

Not Just About Me

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9/28/18

Before we can move on with the words from the doctors, we have to focus on four very important people whose lives would be forever changed by those words. It was not just my life. As I mentioned before, two brothers and a dad and mom were very much a part of my thirteen years leading up to this day in March. Well, dad and mom for thirteen, a brother for twelve and another one for four. My eldest brother was just a year younger than me; fourteen months. When we were little I was always on the smaller side so the one time I cut my hair, we looked like twin boys. Nice! I was the bossy older sister, and he was the creative but willing follower. We had fun, and as our surroundings changed with the move, not much changed; except for the growing up. He did fantastic in school, and as I mentioned before was making progress up the Spelling Bee ladder. He did not join us when we went to the hospital, but my dad brought both brothers up later. Feelings about what was going on were on his face because he was a caring person. I appreciated that more than I ever expressed. Later he would help me keep normalcy alive; which was difficult because of the new normal that I would have a hard time accepting.

Little brother was a fun guy to be around; full of life. He was so much younger than us, but we enjoyed him all the same. I think he was the first one to catch onto skiing-down the little hill behind the house. During the beginning of the doctors and hospitals, he spent time with friends and sitters. I noticed he was not around the hospital as much mostly because he was younger, and what could he do? He made up for it later by lying beside the couch after chemo, helping me with the puke bucket.

My parents jumped right into cancer parent mode. What are those? Well, first off what is cancer and how does it happen and why does it happen and what kind and what is the plan of action and what was that chemo drug called?… Their child has cancer and they are responsible for the decisions they make to keep them alive. Every piece of information out there has to be discovered through research, and back then there were no smart phones. My parents, and especially my mom who was by my side the whole time, asked questions, and when there was not an answer she would ask the next nurse or the next doctor and the next. My dad took care of the boys and the church duties.

Cancer parents should get an official medical degree for the amount of time they spend finding out what is inside their child. They have the knowledge that most doctors do when it is all said and done. And they also should receive a gold medal. We all understand a gold medal is placed upon a winner of an event, and most of the time it reminds us of an Olympic athlete. Although I have never been an Olympian, I have seen their stories about the beginning stages and their first accomplishments in the particular event, many starting very young. They all spend hour after hour practicing to compete, until they hit the Olympic stage. Then many times in a timed event, they have to compete liked they trained, and hope they trained harder than the person beside them so they come out in front of them and stand on the winner’s podium. Then they receive the gold medal for being ahead of the rest who worked just as hard to get there.

Why do cancer parents need a gold medal? Because at the beginning stages, they work on this particular “event,” and spend hour after hour asking questions and studying about their child’s cancer. Then they compete against time to make the right decisions with the knowledge they have acquired. They are competing in a race not to beat someone else just something else, but sometimes that something else wins. The end results of an Olympic race differ from this race; more than one person gets the gold medal. The cancer parents. They heard the news their child has cancer, figured out how to process those words, went through the emotions on the inside while staying strong on the outside, and had to put one foot in front of the other to fight to win a cancer race. Yes, they deserve the gold.

Not just one person goes through cancer. Their family does. And although the family is not waking up from surgery, or receiving the chemo drugs, or throwing up every fifteen minutes, or losing their hair, or getting sores in their mouth… they ARE watching their loved one suffer, and they cannot help except for driving them to chemo, or sitting by their side for hours, or singing to them, or holding the puke bucket, or being yelled at when it hurts… It hurts them, too. I have said many times, I felt like cancer was harder on the family then on me. I was just trying to physically survive any way possible.

I Corinthian 13 is the Love Chapter. It speaks of love or charity, and all of its different aspects. “Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things.” God has shown this love to us when He became man and died on the cross for our sins. This love is demonstrated in this verse and is an example of the love we have in a family. I thank God for my family and their love. They were my earthly rocks to stand on to face the difficult times that would lie ahead.

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