Category: hospital

Hurry Up And Wait

5/10/21

I was recently reminded of the phrase, “Hurry Up and Wait.” It seemed like anytime we were headed to a doctor’s appointment or chemo, we were pressed for time. Many of us have been sitting in a doctor’s office whether in a waiting room or inside the exam room, wondering when in the world will we get to go back or see the doctor.

Not only does this happen to a cancer patient, but ten fold because the first appointment usually turns into five appointments which turns into, well in my case thirty-six chemotherapy treatments and twelve cardiology appointments in eighteen months. If the average doctor appointment takes two hours including drive time, ours was a four hour drive time there and back plus a two hour or four hour chemo drip, squeezing in the cardio doc appointment. I always tried to get in at least three or four classes at school, asking mom to schedule the last available appointment, because of course, I would be missing the next day. The twenty-four hours of dry heaving made that day impossible. Thursdays were good days because I had the weekend to recuperate even more, but so many fun things were on Friday nights. Pick and choose what was important on the medical side of things should not be a part of my Freshman and Sophomore years, but it came with the territory. Hurry up and wait was made easier because these oncology nurses had it down pat. They knew they had multiple children to see, multiple IVs to get going, and they worked really hard to keep you moving. Through the waiting room and exam rooms, into the sterile spinal tap room (horrible experience!) and get hooked up quickly to the IV pole. Thanking God for those special people.

In life, how does this phrase apply? When I was little, I remember wanting to be big like my special friend who was in middle school and who sang at a competition at camp. We have a picture together after her and her middle school friend sang. They sounded so great, and I wanted to be just like her, but be like her right then. My dad was a pastor, and I enjoyed going to church camp every year from toddler years on; definitely a perk. But I always wanted to participate like the teenagers. Then I got my chance. My very first year of teen camp, and I was a top dog! My year to shine, a big wig, oh, and the next year I was actually wearing one, go figure! And talk about big, my mom let me get the biggest, curliest wig you have ever seen, because come on, this was the early 90’s! Back to the first year of teen camp; I hurried up and now I was a teen. Then getting into high school was the next thing to look forward to. Cancer changed much about this hurry up time because I had a totally new focus to get to my Freshman year in survival mode. Then I made it, cancer treatments still ongoing, but at least I was there. Hurry up and finish chemo, then hurry up and come quickly driver’s license! Then graduation, then college, then waiting to find my husband, graduation again, then marriage, and the list just goes on.

Hurry up and wait. Why? Because we want to move life along, but what are we doing with the life that is right in front of us? How important would it be for us if we decided to take our life and the hurriedness, and contemplated every day on what should slow down? Being hurried takes so many things from us.

  1. Takes our time away from God because we have not allowed time to sit and dwell on God’s Word and talk to God
  2. Takes our mental health away from us because we have not allowed time to sit and use our mental capacity to read and dwell on God’s Word and talk to God
  3. Suppresses the Holy Spirit and the guidance that He provides because we have not allowed time to sit and feed our spirit through God’s Word and talking to God
  4. Takes our time away from what God has asked of us as Christian, be a light, be kind, and tell them about Jesus because we are flying past them to get to the next thing on our agenda

It all boils down to what? That one on one with God, every single day we have breath. I realize I probably am a much different person than most, but maybe you can relate. I have a huge amount of things on my list to get done in a day or week, but I am that one that crosses off each item on the list to the expense of others; maybe their feelings or the time together to develop our relationship. Within the last few years, this has been apparent to me, and God and I have had many a conversations about this very thing. I have made a couple of steps forward personally in this area but so many steps still to go; hopefully, I keep stepping forward.

The fable of the tortoise and the hare comes to mind, as they start off on their race against each other. The hare knows its ability and starts off quickly, then decides it needs a rest. The tortoise passes the hare and wins the race. Slow and steady wins the race. Taking time to ponder each step along the way allows us to stay committed to the task at hand, shows others that they are important to us, and keeps us focused on the end result. We are not racing against each other. Society has termed living life a certain way “a rat race;” a rat in a wheel that keeps running and running like the hare, never focusing on the important things of life. But we are not running in a rat race! We are running God’s race and that race includes:

  1. Our relationship with God

Hebrews 12:1, 2 “Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

2. Our relationship with Others

Galatians 6:2, 10 “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ… As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.”

3. Our relationship with Time

Ecclesiastes 9:11 “I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither is there bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to the men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.”

What does hurry up and wait mean to us? Is it worth it sometimes? I believe it is for that moment as long as the other moments are about God, Others, and the Time God has given us on this earth to stay out of the “rat race.”

You Know You’re A Boy Mom

boy mom2/18/20

Fall/Spring 1998/99

I sat and looked around the house chuckling as my eyes spanned the living area. The coffee table was void of the cute centerpiece basket with the decorations inside, placed off to the side next to the wall. In its place was a bright blue net of a table top ping-pong set with paddles resting on either side, missing the ping pong ball which had been blasted across the room scoring the game ending point. This scene puts a sign on my back with big letters “Boy Mom,” or maybe it’s just my label.

This label comes with a whole slew of other scenes in life that has to do with boys:

Laundry time comes with a handful of rocks and sticks fished out of pockets.

Hugs and kisses one minute and then smacks with foam swords the next.

Your foot is permanently marked with little round LEGO circles.

The toilet area, need I say more?

You paint your nails during the first inning of the baseball game so they can dry without getting smudge for the next eight innings.

Dad asks on the way out the door if they have any other jeans.

The epic wrestling match is always right before bed.

Pretty things? What is that?

Oh, and the smell is another one with the label, EPIC!

I really enjoy being a boy mom. I only had two brothers growing up, and one of them was a year younger than me, so we were very close when we were little. When I chopped off my hair at the age of three with the giant scissors, my mom looked like she had twin boys. As mentioned in one of my earlier blog articles, we spent our childhood outside, and I was a bona fide tomboy. Therefore, I was destined to be a boy mom.

When the first year teaching came along, the academic part of teaching was very natural, and it was easy to explain each concept to those bright-eyed fourth graders. I loved using unconventional things to explain things like fractions. By using a student standing on a chair for the numerator holding a yardstick next to another student standing on the floor as the denominator, math was brought to life. There were relays to study history terms and basketball tosses to help explain nouns. My favorite times were teaching new choruses created from favorite Bible verses. I loved to sing with the class, and singing brought happiness to the classroom and our daily learning. I loved the academic side of teaching but truly enjoyed getting to know the students on the playground, field trips, and pickup time. It was nice to not think about grades and papers, and go shoot a few basketballs on the court or talk about their soccer game win or piano recital from the weekend.

Unfortunately, following all outside recess came the almost unbearable and putrid body odor smell. In Oklahoma. and especially in August and September, their outside play opened the sweat glands and those in turn permeated the room with sweet odor. The rest of the day never recovered, so the best we could do was open the door and turn down the AC. This never changed year to year. The play and smells were intertwined, and a teacher made due. I had been prepared for these smells because of my brothers, and then when I had boys, those smells showed up again. This is never going to change!

I have learned what masks the smells and find the spray of pretty smell or diffuse the sweet smell all day. Then I started thinking about how a smell permeates the room whether it is an outdoor smell or a sweet smell. The molecules do not take very long to move throughout the room and affect each individual there, because the air is in constant circulation. Especially in the car after a football game or basketball practice! Phew, wee! But, I really am grateful for the smells, because they are from people that I love and appreciate. A smell can bring up memories that we enjoy or they bring back other memories that we want to forget.

In my cancer journey, the hospital and doctor smells are unforgettable and are brought to my memory every single time I go through those doors. Who knew smells would be a side effect of cancer?!? But those smells can also be a reminder of where I have been and where I am today. They remind me of the super, amazing hard times of chemotherapy, spinal taps, doctor’s appointments of anxiety about cancer reoccurrence. Literally, a smell brings a flash of memory about wearing those awesome hospital gowns or walking around in those non-slip socks. Red Jello brings the memory of liquid diets and ice chips. One smell, a multitude of thoughts.

If one smell can bring a multitude of thoughts, words and actions supersede the smell. I spent my first year of teaching in constant anxiety because the words on the pages of rejection letters from insurance companies. When we speak to others or our actions toward others do not bring comfort, that person internalizes those things, and it affects them and who they are. God’s Word encourages us to be careful of this and to live by the Spirit that He has given to us to receive. Galatians 5:22, 23 wraps it all up neatly: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, Meekness, temperance; against such there is no law.” If we make the conscious “choice” (our actions and words are OUR choice) to be a help to others and not a hurt, we will put off a “smell” that others around us enjoy. We will give them the “smell” of love, joy, peace, etc… because we choose to. It is our choice and no one else’s. Can we do this? Are we willing to choose between the good and the bad?

Time To Clean Things Up A Bit

CleaningServices

3/25/19

Summer 1993

On my cancer journey, we had many ups and downs; one being a heart problem I began having when I was small. I remember playing one day when I was super little, and all of a sudden my chest hurt. I went to my mom and told her, and she felt my chest and said my heart was beating really fast. We rushed to the doctor.

I have always been on the lower end of the growth chart, and I was pretty small when I was little. Back in the day when I started walking, my mom bought a baby doll that had hard soled shoes so I would have shoes to wear. When my heart started racing like that, my chest moved with the beats. At three, it was very unnerving, and when we arrived at the doctor’s office, they moved very quickly to get me stabilized.

My rapid heartbeat was called SVT or Supraventricular Tachycardia. In my terminology, the heart would get triggered and beat right around 300 times a minute. The doctors and nurses had me do many different things. We began with coughing, and then pretend like I was having a bowel movement, because the “bearing down” maneuver stops or slows the rapid heartbeat. When that did not work, they had an ice bucket, and they told me to put my face in it because the heart will slow down when someone is submerged in cold water. The last thing, if the previous actions do not slow the heart down, is a fast-acting medication that blocks the electrical impulses causing the heart to race. All of these treatments are done very quickly, because a body cannot sustain a rapid heartbeat for very long before there are major problems, like cardiac arrest. We were told we had a fifteen-minute window to get it under control.

For some reason, I remember having the medicine that first time we went in because the other treatments were not working. My memory may be wrong, because this was the beginning of dozens of episodes that I dealt with in my childhood and teen years. I would say 95% of them were treated by me. The first few we went into the doctor, and then I got to the point where as soon as it occurred I would cough, bare down, jump up and down, and then my personal go-to treatment was a cartwheel. Yep, that is right! All of those actions were done fairly quickly, but if I was playing with my brother, and the SVT set in, I did those actions in that order. I would mention to him that my heart was racing, and then off to the races-cough, bare down a few times, jump up and down, cartwheel. It worked almost every time, and then a few breaths and back to climbing trees.

Almost forty years have passed since my first episode, so these were the only treatments. As we entered the cancer world, I had just turned 13 and was still working through my same SVT treatments, with no new medical treatments out there. I would be hanging out with friends, playing volleyball, or even jumping on a trampoline, and there goes Rachelle doing a cartwheel. Absolutely random! But it had become my life, and that is just what I did. Cancer changed this self-treatment and “turned it upside down on its head.” Once I began chemotherapy, I had absolutely no control over stopping the rapid beats. We rushed to the hospital multiple times to receive the last resort treatment; the medicine that stopped the heart and then the heart would go back to a normal rhythm. The cancer surgery was severe, with an incision all the way down my stomach, and the chemotherapy blocked a healthy healing process. The final treatment for my irregular heartbeat was open heart surgery to repair that defected electric pathway that causes the signal to go in a circle instead of straight. Open heart surgery was absolutely not an option for me on chemotherapy, but it was the only option right then. At one of the heart episodes, my mom had begged the doctors not to do surgery; there was no way I would survive it.

I mentioned in a previous post, that we were at a chemotherapy treatment, when I lost it. I was done with the heart problem, I was done with the chemotherapy, and I was done with all of it. After my blood work that day, the doctors said counts were good, and we were going ahead with the chemo. I said I did not care if I died, tried to leave, and my mom stopped me. After we calmed down, we headed to the cardiologist appointment that was scheduled for that day. He came in, and we talked about the next step. What would we do now? He said there had been new medical treatments for SVT. One was a catheter ablation that goes into the groin and neck and burns the defected electrical pathway. The other treatment was a pill that was proven to lessen the amount of episodes of rapid heartbeats. We were very much ready to try the medicine, and if that did not work, the doctor would do the ablation. The medicine proved to be a life-saver, for real.

The medicine did its job and lasted through chemotherapy treatments and for the next couple of years. I stayed fairly healthy through the summer and 11th grade and kept up with my schoolwork and softball. It was determined at an appointment in my junior year, we would do the catheter ablation to correct the defect. This was in the early 90’s, and when you read about SVT treatments these were the medical advancements in this disease that were being introduced. I just happen to be going through what I was going through at the same time. The ablation was extremely new, so there were no long-term results to go off of, but we had been through so many years of this disease that we felt positive this was the direction to go.

Right after my seventeenth birthday, we went into the hospital again to have the ablation. I would be admitted for a week so they could monitor the heart and its response to the minute change in structure. I was pretty apprehensive because the last time I went into surgery, wow, did I wake up different. This time I actually was not put under but sedated. Now, that was crazy, because they “burned” the irregular pathway, and I remember clearly the sensation; I woke up slightly at that moment. A week later, I was good as new and 25 years later, my heart is still strong. Now, I have a normal heart with a skipped beat now and then, which sometimes makes me anxious because that was usually the same sensation that sent me into SVT.

I am so grateful for the Lord’s timing, direction, and leading my parents to make the decisions they felt were right for me and the problems that came my way. My parents asked for the doctors to wait on the open-heart surgery because there was no real deadly threat, and I would struggle with survival from another surgery. The Lord brought medicines in our world when I was at the bottom. And He gave us a non-invasive ablation that has proven to work for quite a few years now. What an awesome God! At this point in my cancer journey, decisions were still being made to further a healthy life. We were “cleaning up” some of the things that were put on hold for so many years.

God asks us to do the same in our spiritual lives. He directs us and leads us in the paths we should go, but we need to stay close to Him to see those paths. As Christians, each and every day we must confess our sins, the bad things that we do. We are human, we are sinners saved by grace, but our sin keeps us from God’s leading. I John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” This is so important, so needed, and so much required to see our path clearly.

The Roller Coaster

ride 2

1/14/19

Summer 1991

How could the adventures within the last few months have been so amazing and actually occurred while I was on treatments for a disease that takes lives every day? It was a pretty wonderful experience. And, yet we had to return to reality that I was on treatments for a… Yes, reality hit me right in the face, right back to Salt Lake City and chemotherapy. It was the summer months again, so we were able to head down early to treatments and enjoy fun times at large area parks, shopping, and there was even a small amusement park in a nearby suburb with roller coasters.

We had to go early in the morning, because there was absolutely no chance we could enjoy anything afterwards. Chemotherapy hit me pretty hard, and if it was the one with a spinal tap, I was in worse shape. Salt Lake was eighty miles away from home, so we would prepare for a rough ride home, because when you leave the city, you climb up through a canyon. It is a major interstate, but it winds back and forth up the mountain and then straightens out after twenty miles or so. There was also another back and forth halfway between there and home. Car sickness is no comparison to chemo, but when you combine the two, not the best situation. Sorry Utah, I really did try to make it without stopping! Even though the trip was hard, we were so grateful to be as close as we were to an amazing hospital.

This was our second summer traveling back and forth for chemo. My prognosis was fantastic, no signs of any cancer since the doctors closed up my stomach, gave me a 30% chance to leave the hospital, and started me on chemotherapy the next day. We had another set of scans right between the two big trips, and they came back clear again. The last treatment would be sometime in October if my blood counts stayed good, and the doctors did not have to bump me back a week. My heart was staying under control with the medicine, and there would be an evaluation after chemo was over on the next step to get me off the medicine. I was healthy, happy, and enjoying my teen life. I just got my permit on my birthday, and school was about to start. I would be going into my third year of school on these treatments: spring of eighth to, Lord willing, fall of tenth grade. The end could not get here fast enough. I wanted to be a normal high school student. One brother was entering high school with me, and the other was going into first grade. Our church was doing really well. My parents had reached out to co-workers who had joined the church body, and the youth group was growing. I had some very special friends during this time at school and church that made my world go round. We had some amazing fun times together!

Yet, I started to struggle with some unusual symptoms that needed immediate attention. We headed down to the hospital to do a series of scans. Concerns about a recurrence were prominent. The scans were a disaster to get completed. I kept throwing up the barium, and they would have to start over. My mom finally told them to shove a tube down my nose and then we could pour straight into the stomach. It worked, and we were able to finish, and head back to the treatment room. For three hours, no one told us anything. It was very unusual to wait and not be given any information. We were certain the cancer was back, and mom and I were physically sick. Mom had made arrangements for being out of the office for an uncertain amount of time and made phone calls to the insurance company. After an excruciating amount of time, the doctor came in to tell us we would need to come back in the morning for more scans. We desperately needed him to tell us what the scans said, and he informed us they were clear, but they needed further tests to figure out why I was sick. The emotional down that we had experienced for the last few hours was almost unbearable. My life was hanging on by a rope, and no one informed us it really was not. Situations like this are a par for the course in the medical world. They did not do anything wrong; they have hundreds of patients and dozens in a given day that need attention, cry for attention, need a hand to get through some of the most difficult times in their lives. Hats off to the medical profession. Emotional roller coasters are in everyone’s handbook. Theirs just has to be under control and then make life changing decisions for other people.

But, boy, do I love the real deal roller coasters. I am on the petite side, and I did not get to enjoy coasters when I was younger until later than most because I could never reach that silly mark on the sign. Pretty sure my brother beat me to it. We were fourteen months apart, and because I was smaller, we were very similar in height. When I was three, the scissors and hair became one, and my mom and I did not. She had to take me to a barber to get it fixed, and I walked out looking like my brother. She had questions about her twin boys for a few months, so she made sure she put me in dresses as often as possible. Anyway, after much begging, pleading, and tiptoeing, I was able to get on that first roller coaster at Six Flags Over Texas. On the way up, I knew this was the wrong idea, and my aunt had to keep me from jumping out. I swore off coasters until I was in junior high and fell in love with them. They do not scare me at all; granted I am nervous on the big ones. Back and neck problems have changed my ability to ride them in this stage of life, but I miss the fun.

Life, emotions, etc… are roller coasters and winding roads through mountains, no doubt. Things are great, things are not so great, things are good, things are horrible, things are fantastic. When asked how things are going, I catch myself saying great.. wonderful… fantastic… no matter what is actually going on most of the time because I have been through some really, really bad times in my life. In comparison, things are really great. There may be times that are crazy, there may be times that are not so wonderful, I wear those on my face and people can tell. That is o.k.; it is life. God’s Word in Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 says it this way: “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.” Verse 4 says, “A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and time to dance.” Winding through life has its times, and we know that our God will take those times and show us His love and strength and power. Hallelujah for the times we have!

Words All Around Us

words 3.jpg

12/4/18

May 1991

My spirits were up, and the family was all pretty happy, mainly because I was not throwing up near as long. My youngest brother had had a hard go at the cancer thing. He spent so much time with sitters and really had a couple of rotten experiences. We talk about them still today, but he was a trooper. But many a time I would be laying on the couch with my tub nearby and when I would throw up, he would hold it for me. Sometimes he would set up a cot next to the couch, probably because I would watch TV to keep my mind off of the nausea, but all the same he wanted to be near me. He had to see so many things that a four and five year old should not have to deal with or see. My whole family did, but they were still my strength no matter how many times I would yell at them through the pain or mistreat them. In my mind, I was sick and had every right to behave however I wanted.

My eldest brother was back on the spelling bee trail and had done well. He won at the school, district, and then headed to state and won that. It was a pretty exciting time at home, especially when we received word, he would be traveling to the National Spelling Bee in Washington, D. C. The spelling bee organization would be paying for the speller and a chaperone to attend the event. My dad would be going with my brother. It was a busy next few days for us because the middle school he attended contacted us and asked if they could do something for the family. They would be having their annual spring fair, and they wanted to donate all the proceeds to our family so that my mom and I could go to D. C. as well. They published the fair in the paper and the cause, and the community came out in abundance. What a surprise and blessing! They ended up raising all of the funds we needed for the trip.

And we were on our way! I think I had only been on a plane one other time before we boarded the plane for the National Spelling Bee. No matter the end result, my brother was ready, and we were all very excited. Thank yous went out to him for his hard work and our community for sending us on this adventure. We would be gone a few days because they had a schedule of events leading up to the Spelling Bee. When we arrived, we were taken to a beautiful hotel down the street from the U. S. Capitol Building. We spent the week with the other spellers and their families touring our nation’s capital on tour busses and enjoying down time at a Memorial Day barbeque. We were able to see the Arlington Cemetery, some of the Smithsonian like the Air and Space Museum, and the Declaration of Independence.

My brother was nervous on the day of the Bee to say the least. We were all nervous. A spelling bee brings about a whole lot of emotions you do not expect. When the speller is up there and the word is pronounced, they have the ability to ask a couple of questions. During the whole time he was standing there, my heart was beating a hundred miles an hour. I cannot imagine what his is doing! As soon as he started spelling, I would just hope he knew the crazy word, because I did not have a clue. Each time he got it right was such a relief because you knew he could picture that word in his head, so he was in a good frame of mind. He went out in the fourth round and was very disappointed, but we were all super proud of his accomplishment. This time in our lives needed a time of joy, and we acknowledged that God had given us this trip for just that; a trip we would never forget. I had received a chemotherapy the week before traveling, so when we returned, I had a couple more days off and then back to the routine.

What is it about certain words that can cause a spirit and the physical and mental state of mind to change in an instant? First of all, we are human beings, and God created us with a body, soul, and spirit. We can keep the body looking well on the outside, but many times actions and words affect the spirit and mind more than we can control, and what is on the inside will come out. God’s word tells us in Matthew 12:34, the second part, “…out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.” Secondly, we keep allowing ourselves to be around the negative, so we internalize it and let it affect our heart. Each time I heard I had to have chemo because my counts were good, it affected me. The same went for my brother and spelling. He would put in the correct spelling of the words, so that what came out was the correct spelling of the word.

There are so many horrible outside forces that are not as easy to combat as those spelling words or the words I heard each time from the doctor. But as Christians we have the same God who can help us make it through, and if we will purposefully make it a point to internalize God and His Word at the hard times, we WILL come out on the other side.

A Dreaded Routine

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11/13/18

Summer 1990

Routine: “A sequence of actions, regularly followed; a fixed program.” Merriam-Webster. Why in the world do we have to classify doctor’s appointments, chemotherapy, spinal taps, and throwing up for 24 hours a routine? Basically, a fight against cancer puts you in a routine you never imagined existed. We began to plan things around this routine. Salt Lake was such a big city compared to our town, so since it was summer time we would go shopping or sightseeing before we headed to the hospital. We were down there once a month so it was a little adventure. But then we would have to get in the car and drive to the hospital.

By this time we were going to the new hospital on the edge of town closest to where we lived. Salt Lake City is a large city and very spread out in the valley. From Evanston, we would hit the eastern side of the city first, right out of the winding, steep descent from Park City, and then travel a few miles north along the foothills. The large, new and beautiful Primary Children’s Hospital was such an upgrade from the older hospital with shiny floor-to-ceiling glass windows and multicolored murals on the walls. I remember some of the walls were made out of glass blocks to let in more light. It really was a nice place to go, even if the inside was filled with pain. I really dreaded this place. We were always greeted by a nice nurse who would do the routine weight, height, and blood draw from my broviac to test my white blood count. They would then deposit us in a pretty sterile room with colorful pictures.

Guess who comes in next? This cute little nutritionist; I can still see her smiling face if only it was on there for a minute or two. She would measure the fat on my arm and ask me how I was doing. She would then proceed to ask me what I had to eat that day, and then ask me if I was eating my fruit and vegetables at home because she was not happy with my food of choice before coming in. Did you ever have to sit at the table when you were younger until all your food was gone? I did, and the only thing left on my plate would be vegetables. I would sit there for a while until I could get up the gumption to get those things in my mouth without gagging them back up. As a teenager, it was not that bad, but my food of choice was never a vegetable. The nutritionist told us the very same thing visit after visit about how important it was for me and my health to be drinking lots and lots of water and eating “green leafy vegetables because they have so many nutrients for your body.” It was always followed with, “Broccoli and cauliflower are full of cancer fighting properties…” She would get me at broccoli. Nope, not going to have it. I could handle peas, green beans, corn, but come on, broccoli. If I heard that once, I heard it eighteen times; guaranteed. She was absolutely a saint and truly cared about me, and I really did try to listen to her words. Mom did too, and always had them available at the dinner table.

After she left, the doctor would stop in to tell me we were on schedule with the chemo because my counts were good. That was all it took for my spirit to fall to its lowest; like a weight had just been dropped on me. I knew once I got up off this bed I would have to walk down the hall to another room with another very flat bed with crinkly white paper. There were a few monitors in there and always a couple of nurses. I would have a spinal tap, and if they had not done so already, they would hook me up to fluid to get my body working to flush out everything. That is why the nutritionist wanted me to be drinking water. The quicker the chemo is flushed out of the body doing its job along the way, the quicker the recovery afterwards. After the horrible spinal tap, we would start the two hour chemo drip. Sometimes the nausea would start as soon as I would walk in the spinal room. The smell would get me going. Other times, I would not start throwing up until we hit the road or even at home. But nonetheless I would spend the next 24 hours in that state.

Although I would trade anyone, any day for anything but cancer, I embraced this routine for another chance at life. I may not have changed my eating habits to include the vegetables I needed; I actually stuck with tacos and burgers and chicken strips, I really did whatever it took to get better. I worked extra hard and said to myself, “You are strong, and this will be over soon.” This routine became my life. But my strongest routine should have included God. Each and every day He wants to spend time with us, and we should with Him as well. A popular chorus and verse says it perfectly. Matthew 6:33, “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” He will bless us spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically. We just need to seek Him.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G …

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10/29/18

March 29, 1990

I mentioned in an earlier post that God orchestrated our path and moved us to a remote town in Wyoming. This state has less than 600,000 people, and its largest town has 63,000 people. Our little town had 10,000 at the time which puts it in the top ten cities in population, and it is located on a major cross country interstate, I-80. Why all of the statistics? Remote, desolate, long winters, no family, but we were 80 miles away from one of the top tier children’s hospitals in the United States, located a few miles north of I-80 in Salt Lake City. Only God knows. If there was any questions of why we moved eighteen months earlier, they were answered.

I was sitting in the hospital in Evanston after the doctor came in and told us I had a bowel obstruction. Dad, with my eldest brother, had left around this time because he had won the city spelling bee and was headed to regionals. Still amazes me that he did so well in the midst of this family situation, but he was a strong student. We had started months before my diagnosis drilling him on a nightly basis with words from the dictionary. He was crazy good at it.

The next step for mom and I; a trip back down to Salt Lake City. The bowel obstruction must resolve, or I was going to have to have surgery. Since I just came from there, the doctors in both locations decided if surgery was the outcome, then I should be back at Primary. They loaded me up in an ambulance because the hospital cannot release me with this kind of diagnosis, and we hit the road to the hospital. This was super surreal. I had experienced a couple of medical issues as a kid. One was a tonsillectomy at three, a broken collarbone from a tree swing made out of a sheet that was not quite tight enough, and the last one was an irregular heartbeat. The heart issue I will touch on later.

I was in the ambulance, and out of the back I could see us leaving town and driving past our church and home because they were on the service road of the interstate. I was so disappointed that I was leaving home again and wondered how long I would be gone. Home seemed like a haven for me, normalcy that I wanted to experience away from the doctors, nurses, needles, smells, etc… I just wanted this all to go away, but I knew something was really wrong with me at the moment. We passed by familiar landmarks that I had seen in the past, but when I was facing the other way in a car. It was almost like I was seeing them for the last time, and I could not understand why. Swirling around my thoughts and feelings, the siren of the ambulance gave me an eerie feeling that all this new stuff that was a part of my life now was no joke. Not going anywhere; not going to be pushed aside for homework, shopping, hanging out with friends, playing volleyball, and even sleeping in my own bed in my own room in my own home with MY family nearby. No, this was all here to stay.

I determined in that ambulance ride that no matter how hard cancer was going to hit me, that I was going to hit back harder. I was going to do whatever it took to “get better.” I physically was going to be as strong as possible and push myself to fight this. I told myself that this was going to be the last time I was going to go to the hospital. I knew God was real and with us, and I cried out to him to take it all away. But on the other side of the coin was the reality that I was super sick at that very moment.

When we arrived at the Salt Lake hospital, they admitted me and shoved a horrible tube down my nose and into my stomach. This NG tube would pump my stomach and relieve abdominal swelling. An enema is administered as well to see if the bowel will release itself. If this does not work, then surgery is about the only option. All my doctors came by to figure this out, because I would not survive a surgery. The incision site was not healing from the lack of white blood cells affected by the chemo, so most likely my body would not survive if surgery was decided on. Mom basically begged them to wait; we were going to pray for a miracle. And we did.

Within two days the obstruction resolved, and the doctors felt like I was in the clear. They administered the second round of chemotherapy I was supposed to receive back home, and after a few more days I was released. Almighty God healed me! And through the doctors’ knowledge, discussions, and procedures for this type of health scare, I was on the mend, inside and outside. My incision was taken care of by the medical staff and there was no other cause for concern. I was definitely placed in the hospital at the right time for there might have been some serious scarring involved that I would have dealt with in the future.

Each of these intermittent rays of sunshine within about a week changed so much of our dark cancer world. It gave us a massive pick-me-up, that for the last month, had been almost non-existent. It was now time to go home! I was more than excited, but I saw just a hint of something on my pillow that was beginning to concern me. Please, don’t tell me it was happening; if I ignore it, it will go away.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G… Words are built and given life by individual letters that come together. Once the word has been given life, it can be used alone like “Hi” or put together to make sentences to communicate. So much of our life is the same as a letter. There are times that the experience is put together and creates a small caveat in our world depending on how we observe it. Or the experience is placed with other experiences, and they come together and make a massive crater. Letters, they can change our lives; experiences they move our world. And God is the hand that holds us tight in and out of the caveats and craters. Isaiah 41:10 “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.”

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

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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.