Month: December 2017

Wishing you a Hopeful New Year!

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When I first started this blog, I had no intention of sharing my struggles in real time.  I felt called to share a message of hope with those who found themselves in seemingly hopeless situations.  Five years ago, I was diagnosed with a very rare type of bone cancer and was unable to find anyone else who had survived it.  Thinking I was on the other side, I wanted to be a voice out there saying that Undifferentiated Pleomorphic Sarcoma of the bone is not a death sentence.  It isn’t!  But in the last 2 months I’ve had a reoccurrence scare, bone biopsy, and (unrelated) broken wrist.  The biopsy came back clear and the wrist is on the mend, but that doesn’t mean I sailed through the whole ordeal on a Hope Wave.  The amount of fear and anxiety that the shadow on my MRI caused is still hovering over me.  They want to repeat the scans in 3 months, just to make sure, and that hasn’t allowed the stress to subside.  Then, trying to relax from all that, I went to a spa and on day 1 slipped on their wet marble floor and broke my wrist.  I am quite aware that a broken wrist is not a matter of life and death, but it was just one more thing (and really inconvenient).

I share all this because I now realize my initial reason for starting this blog may not be the only reason for its existence.  Yes, I want to continue to be a voice of hope for people diagnosed with a rare cancer (or any other health challenge), but I also want to authentically share about the big, and not so big, events that shake our hope in the day to day.  Waiting for clear follow up scans or a bone to heal can lead to times where hope is elusive, but it is not lost.  Momentary, or not so momentary, feelings of hopelessness do not mean you are not hopeful.  It is not an all or nothing thing.  Choosing to remain hopeful, even when your emotions tell you otherwise, is not always easy, but it is always best.  The choice is ours.  So as this new year approaches, I wish you a very Hopeful New Year!!

 

My new candy cane cast

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Man oh man am I getting tired of all the detours.  First it was “Your 5 year scans are clean” and then it was “The Radiologist thinks he saw something on your MRI and we need to do a bone biopsy.”  Next it was “Your biopsy is clear” and then it was “But we want to repeat all your scans in 3 months to be sure.” Then I was planning a 4-day spa get away with my sister to celebrate life and the upcoming Christmas holiday and now I have a bruised tailbone, broken wrist, and my arm in a cast for at least 6 weeks.  You see, we were enjoying the spa’s “Relaxation Room,” feet in a warm foot pool, and then I was called for my facial appointment.  The floor in this room is marble, it was already wet from other’s feet, I added my wet feet to the mix and had to walk across the room to the towel shelf to grab a towel to dry my feet.  The next thing I knew my feet were off the floor and I landed on my wrist and tailbone.  Ouch!!  After the staff picked me up off the floor and took me to the local Urgent Care, my tailbone and wrist were x-ray’d, and it was determined I had a bruised tailbone and broken wrist.  My 4-day spa vacation turned into less than 1 day, as I had to check out and head to the local hospital to meet with an Orthopedic Surgeon.  I tell you all this for two main reasons.  First, as it is difficult to type, I may not be posting as regularly as I have been for the next few weeks.  Second, although I am really tired of doctors, x-rays, pain, and unforeseen health issues, it could have been much worse!  I could have hit my head on the marble floor and had a much more dire outcome.  It also appears I may not require surgery and for that I am grateful.  I would really appreciate any prayers or positive thoughts you send my way for reduced pain and speedy healing.  I am hopeful, in the midst of this, that this experience will open additional opportunities to practice what I preach.  In all circumstances there is something to learn, something to be grateful for, and above all else, there is always hope for what tomorrow may bring (and I have a candy cane cast in the mean time).  Here’s to a brighter tomorrow for all of us!

 

“I’ve got this”

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Do you ever wish someone could reassure you that everything is going to work out? That they could tell you, no matter how bleak things look right now, it will be okay in the end?  That’s exactly what I was longing for after my first visit to an Oncologist.  They had found a hole in my pelvic bone (more on this miraculous find in a future post) and had referred me to an Oncologist.  She believed I had stage 4 multiple myeloma and sent me for blood tests to confirm her hypothesis.  I was panicked.  When the bloodwork came back, all my numbers were right in the middle of the normal range.  I wondered, what does that mean?  I don’t have multiple myeloma?  Everything is fine?  It’s all a big mistake?  I’m not going to die?  It was then that I heard God say, almost audibly, “I’ve got this.”  What?  I am not someone who regularly hears God speak to me.  I wish I were, but I am not.  There are only a handful of times I truly believe I have heard Him say something to me and this was one of them.  I was initially comforted by this and took it to mean I didn’t have cancer after all.  I would later learn that was not a correct interpretation.  I did have cancer.  A really rare, really aggressive bone cancer.  So, did I misunderstand or did He never tell me that in the first place?  There were many times over the next 12 months that I asked myself that very thing.  There have been many times recently, like during my biopsy last month, that I questioned it again.  But I know that I heard Him say that to me 5+ years ago.

How can I reconcile what I truly believe God told me and the continual trials I encounter along this cancer journey?  I have come to believe that He did tell me He “had this,” but it did not mean I was cancer-free.  I wanted it to mean that, I initially thought it meant that, I still want it to mean that.  What it did mean is that He was going to work this out how He saw fit, that it would ultimately be for my good, that He had not dropped the ball here.  It also meant that He was not going to leave me to walk this path alone.  That He would be beside me, and sometimes carry me, through every unbelievably tough day.  There were many days that I didn’t feel him there, that I didn’t like the way He was choosing to “have it,” but He “had it” none the less.  It also didn’t mean He “had it” any less if I hadn’t survived the last 5 years.  I am so grateful He has seen fit to leave me here so far, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fearful every time something new comes up.  I am human.  It does mean that I remind myself of those words I truly believe He gave me all those years ago and try to trust them.  There have been many times, during dark days, I have pleaded for more words of reassurance that have not come.  But God is there when He speaks and when He chooses to remain silent.  He is always there (we never have to do this on our own) and He always loves us unconditionally and completely.  That is a reason for hope!