Tag: detours

Don’t let what you don’t know get ahead of what you do know

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Words to live by!  These are the words shared by a friend of ours whose daughter has been recently diagnosed with leukemia.  They are words she is holding on to daily.  And they are words we would all do well to embrace.  Unfortunately, life has a way of giving us many situations during our lives where, if we look too far in the future, we are totally overwhelmed. Your mind starts sprinting (or hopping) down every bunny trail it encounters.  What if this happens?  What if we receive this news?  What if we are told this is the next step?  What if we aren’t given a next step?  What if…?

I am as guilty of this as any one of you, but where does it get us?  Scared, paralyzed, unable to make reasonable decisions, unable to sleep.  Not a place that any of us want to find ourselves.

I am reminded of a conversation I had many years ago.  I was in the middle of a really contentious divorce that I saw no end to, was looking for a job (because of the divorce), had just moved from my home of 14 years (again, because of the divorce), and my father was dying and had asked that my sister and I help him die at home.  So, I was trying to handle all that was going on back home in Pennsylvania and staying for weeks at a time in New York, facing the daily stresses of losing a parent needing 24-hour care.  One of my parents’ pastors came to the house to visit with my dad and took the time out to talk to me about how all this was impacting me. I explained how totally overwhelmed I felt.  How I couldn’t see a way to handle all the things I saw on my horizon (both physically and emotionally).  He shared something I will never forget.

As background here, this man was dealing with his own scary unknown.  His son had been diagnosed with a disease that had no cure.  They knew exactly how he would die, the steps the disease would progress through, and what tomorrow would mean.  Yet they were functioning and seemingly thriving.  I asked how. And this is what he said.

We cling to a verse in the Bible: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lamentations 3:22-23)

He went on to explain that God provides the mercies we need every morning for that day and that day alone.  If we try to live further in the future than that, we don’t have God’s mercies for that situation yet.  At first I thought, that’s easier said than done, and then I remembered what he was facing. If that was how he made it through the day, then it was worth trying.

So, when you face situations you just don’t know how you can handle, remember these ideas:

  • Don’t dream up worst case scenarios and run down every possible bunny trail. Don’t let what you don’t know get ahead of what you do know.  Put one foot in front of the other and deal with only what is right in front of you right now.
  • Remember that God will provide you the mercies you need today for today. And He will provide you the mercies you need tomorrow for tomorrow.  Try to live in today’s mercies.  Accept them, thank Him, and once again put one foot in front of the other.

 

Let go of worry

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Are you someone who can take life as it comes, ride any wave that comes your way with ease, shrug off life’s uncertainties? No, me neither.  I tend to think everything to death, chase down every bunny trail, and try to plan for whatever may come.  That leads to a lot of worry.  What could happen next, how would we handle it, am I prepared?  That tendency became reinforced during my cancer battle. After all, I was fighting for my life.  I had to anticipate any and all things that may kill me, right?  Living like that is no fun, nor is it really living.  Every day is such a blessing.  So many others will not have that opportunity.

I have been following two sweet little children who are fighting different types of childhood cancer.  They were both diagnosed at age two.  Numerous surgeries and rounds of chemotherapy later, both of them had relapses and one has passed.  The other seems to be out of options, as it has metastasized to his lungs and bones. It just doesn’t seem fair!  Their lives were just beginning.

So, in a world where so many unthinkable things happen on a daily basis, how can you worry less?  I am not unrealistic enough to think we would not worry at all, but that is definitely my goal.  One of my favorite quotes by Corrie tenBoom, a Nazi concentration camp survivor, says

Worrying is carrying tomorrow’s load with today’s strength–carrying two days at once. It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time. Worrying doesn’t empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.

What wise words, from someone who had every reason to worry.  Few of us will ever experience the level of emotional and physical distress that she did, and yet God gave her a spirit of peace in the midst of it.  I think that’s the lesson for me.  Life will provide many opportunities for worry, but God has promised to never leave us during those times.  He never promised we wouldn’t have to walk through them or that it would be easy, but He promised we wouldn’t have to do it alone.  In that promise is great hope.  Let’s face it, today needs all the strength it can get, so let’s send worry packing!

 

Health is a balancing act

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I used to think of health as how my body felt physically.  If I didn’t have the sniffles, a headache, joint pain, or (God forbid) a chronic disease, I was healthy.  These last few years have taught me that health is so much more than that.  True health is comprised of many different factors.  The other day I was listening to a TED talk by Dr. Lissa Rankin, where she was discussing something called “The Whole Health Cairn Model.”  She explained that to be truly healthy numerous areas of your life must be in balance and that your physical health was like the top rock in a rock cairn.  If those other areas are not shored up, your health could not rest securely in its place.

So, what are those areas?  It begins with your inner pilot light.  That still, small voice in the deepest part of your being.  Some call it your gut or intuition.  If you aren’t taking the time to be still and listen to what your intuition knows better than your thinking brain ever could, you are missing the foundation of true health.  In a world of constant noise, rushing, and data overload it is tough to find that time to be still, but if you don’t make that time you will miss out on all that your life can be.  Then there are the many other areas that make up your life: relationships, work/life purpose, spirituality, creativity, sexuality, environment, money, and mental health.  All of those areas contribute to the state of your physical health.  If any of them are out of balance (and who doesn’t have one or more of them out of balance at any given time?), your physical health is at risk. That really got me thinking about my ongoing quest for what I think of as good health.  I spend so much effort on what I eat, the supplements I take, the positive affirmations I state, the alternative treatments I pursue, but do I put that same level of effort into my creativity or life purpose?

She went on to discuss the importance of including some type of love, activities that bring you pleasure, acts of service to others, and gratitude for all you have already been given into your life to support your whole health cairn. This all seems like a lot to juggle, but I took away from her talk that whole health is so much more than what I thought of as health.  That life is made up of so many different areas and they all contribute to or take away from our whole health.  And then she said something that made me stop and back up her talk to hear it again.

When life falls apart you either grow or you grow a tumor.

What!?!? I don’t know about you, but that caught me up short.  All of the periods in my life where areas in my health cairn were falling apart, I had a choice.  I could resist, hunker down, and try desperately to hang onto to how things were, or I could surrender to something greater than myself and grow.  Given the fact that I grew a tumor, I think you know which one I usually chose.  So now that I know better I will try to do better.  In those “falling apart” times I will now try to choose surrender and growth. How is your whole health cairn doing? Is it strong and balanced or is it leaning or in a pile?  Pay some attention to what areas are weakest and shore them up.  Grow from the hardest things you are facing today.  Learn from my mistakes.  Whole health is precious and definitely worth the work!

 

Miraculous find

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I often get the question, “How did they find your cancer?”  That simple question does not have a simple answer. You see, there were no symptoms. I thought I had a bladder infection and called my primary care physician for an antibiotic.  She was on vacation and the doctor filling in for her thought it would be a good idea for me to see a Urologist.  I didn’t understand why because I was not prone to bladder infections, but the idea of just going to Urgent Care for the prescription never crossed my mind (and that is something that would have always crossed my mind).  Begrudgingly I scheduled an appointment with the recommended Urologist because I needed an antibiotic.  He put me through the torture chamber of testing that only Urologists do, said he thought I was right and probably had a bladder infection (I know, right?), but wanted me to go for a CT of my kidneys to rule out kidney stones.  Now if you know me at all you know I drink more water than anyone you have ever met, so the odds I had kidney stones were slim to none.  I wasn’t experiencing any pain, but this is what he wanted done before he would give me an antibiotic.  Again, why didn’t I just go to Urgent Care?

The next day I went in for my pelvic CT.  I was so glad they had a cancelation because I really needed that antibiotic.  As I was driving home from the scan, my cell phone rang.  It was my Urologist’s office asking me to stop by on my way home.  Yay, I was finally going to get my prescription!  When I arrived, the receptionist looked anxious and immediately took me back to the doctor’s office.  She assured me he would be right in, she just needed to pull him out of the examination room.  I thought it was odd that he was that willing to personally hand me my much-needed prescription, but as long as I was getting it I didn’t care.  When he entered the room, he looked concerned.  He told me he had good news and he had bad news.  The good news was I didn’t have kidney stones and he handed me my antibiotic prescription.  The bad news was I had a hole in my pelvic bone and needed to see my Oncologist right away!  My first thought was “what Oncologist?”  He proceeded to tell me it appeared my cancer had returned and metastasized to my pelvic bone.  My head was spinning.  I had never had cancer.  I didn’t have an Oncologist.  What is he talking about?  When I explained all this to him he immediately called my primary care physician (who was back from vacation), spoke to her, and then called over to the local hospital’s Oncology practice to schedule me ASAP.

A few days later I found myself in an Oncologist’s office.  When she entered she introduced herself and then said “I have reviewed your scan and think you have stage 4 multiple myeloma and probably won’t see Christmas.” What is it with these doctors?!?  Did I mention I was alone in her office when she delivered this news?  All I could think to say is “Do I look like someone who has stage 4 multiple myeloma?” She said no, but she couldn’t imagine what else it could be.  She scheduled me for a multitude of tests.

Each test came back normal.  When I would heave a sigh of relief and say “that’s great!” she would respond “no, no it’s not.”  She wanted to know what caused the hole and I was just glad all the tests came back normal. This cat and mouse game continued for 2 months.  There were bone scans, CTs, blood tests, all coming back normal.  Next was the CT guided needle biopsy into my pelvic bone. Not fun this time either.  The biopsy came back as healthy tissue.  I thought this nightmare was behind me. Then she told me I had to have an open incision biopsy at a hospital 1 ½ – 2 hours away.  I was done.  I had completed every test and scan she recommended.  It was about this time that I told her that when you’re a carpenter and the only tool you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.  But God had other plans.  He wasn’t going to let me come this far and not cross the finish line. She then offered to take my case to “The Tumor Board.”  I didn’t even know there was such a thing, but I thought they would think she had done enough and maybe I was just born with a misshaped pelvic bone.  After all, I had never had a CT of my pelvic bone before. I agreed.  They unanimously agreed with her.  The appointment with the Orthopedic Oncological Surgeon (who just “happened” to be ranked #1 in the country at the time) was scheduled.

When I met with him he also thought it was not cancer.  He ordered an MRI with contrast just to make sure. That was about the only test they hadn’t done yet.  When the results came back they were inconclusive, so he called the Oncologist to recommend watching it.  She would not agree.  She really felt it was cancer.  He talked with me and said he did not think it was cancer, but had to pursue it further, if she would not sign off on his recommendation.  To say I was not happy with that Oncologist was an understatement. It wasn’t that I was in denial, it was that I thought I had had enough tests to determine there was no cancer. We decided to go through with the open incision biopsy to put this to rest once and for all.  And as I wrote about in an earlier blog, it did end up being a really aggressive, really rare form of bone cancer (Undifferentiated Pleomorphic Sarcoma).

When I reflect over all the details of this miraculous find I can’t help but be amazed at how God orchestrated all this.  First of all, He allowed it to be found before there were symptoms (and it would be too late).  For some reason it never occurred to me that I should just go to Urgent Care and get an antibiotic prescription (which would normally be my first thought in this situation).  I also didn’t mention that the bladder infection that drove me to the doctor in the first place ended up testing negative for infection after all and the symptoms stopped as soon as the CT found the hole in my pelvic bone.  Then there was the Oncologist who I not so affectionately dubbed “Dr. Pitbull.”  She continued to dig, even when all the signs were that this was nothing.  She even stood up to a much more experienced physician, whose specialty was bone cancer, when he recommended taking a step back and just watching it.  Another thing that happened, after the biopsy determined it was cancer, was that I knew I couldn’t go through all this alone in Pennsylvania, where I was living.  It “just so happens” the #2 Orthopedic Oncological Surgeon was in New York, where my fiancé lived, and the first surgeon was friends with him and got me in within a week of the biopsy results.  And God had brought my fiancé and I back together just months before all this started.  There is no doubt that I wouldn’t have lived through the treatment without the dedicated and loving 24/7 care he provided.  Was any of this a coincidence?  I don’t think so.  Did any of this surprise God?  No, but it sure did surprise me.  When the times came that didn’t seem anything but hopeless over the next year+, I reflected on all the details associated with my miraculous find and knew God was with me.  I still think back on all that transpired when I find myself becoming fearful of the future and choose to believe God allowed me to survive for some greater purpose. I am still here and so are you. We all have a purpose and until my purpose is completed I will continue to share my story of hope with those I cross paths.  It’s not that I feel hopeful each and every day, but I do know God is with me.  He has shown that time and time again throughout this journey.  There is great hope in that!

 

And the results are in…

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This latest round of scans was clear!  The exact terminology is “no evidence of recurrence.”  I couldn’t be more pleased or more thankful.  And I also found out what “the foreseeable future” means.  After 2 rounds of 3 month scans, the doctor said “see you in 6 months.”  I guess that means “the foreseeable future” is 6 months long.  Who knew!  I am so relieved to move back to 6 month intervals and look forward to clean scans in October and moving to once a year!!  I can hardly believe it.  Last October, the time of my scare, he had moved me to annual scans.  I was thrilled and so relieved.  Then the phone call came and it signaled a biopsy and 3 month scans once again.  I can’t even imagine what annual scans would feel like, but I am looking forward to finding out.

So, life picks up right where it left off.  I always find it interesting that scan day can lead to 1 of 2 very different experiences. Either it is a few hours (and a few days waiting for results) out of an otherwise normal week or life as you know it completely changes.  I describe that as throwing my life into a blender.  I think life, in general, is a lot like that.  You get in your car, to drive to work, and a car accident alters your life forever.  The phone rings in the middle of the night, telling you news you hoped to never hear, and life is never the same.  Your spouse comes home one day and tells you he wants a divorce.  Enter the “blender phenomenon.”  I have learned many lessons from that blender.  One is that I am much stronger than I ever thought I was.  Strength is forged in adversity, but if you recognize and embrace that strength today the lessons of adversity may not need to pay you a visit as often.  Another lesson is to never take today for granted, because tomorrow is not guaranteed. I have spent far too many todays wishing, praying, or working toward a different tomorrow.  I am finally beginning to embrace today as the gift it is and leave tomorrow to tomorrow.  The key word there is “beginning.”  I am such a work in progress.  So today I encourage each of you to embrace those lessons in your lives.  Do yourself a big favor and embrace them without having to experience the dreaded “blender phenomenon.”  Your soul will thank you!

 

For the foreseeable future

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How long, exactly, is that?  According to my Orthopedic Oncological Surgeon, it is how long I have to go back to being scanned every 3 months.  As you may remember, last October were my 5-year scans. That was the appointment I was to move from 6 month to annual scans.  I was so looking forward to living in larger increments between “those” doctor’s appointments.  And then they thought they saw something and that led to a bone biopsy.  The great news is it did not show a return of the cancer! The not totally great news is it wasn’t definitive.  So now I return to 3-month scans “for the foreseeable future.”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t do well with open ended vagueness.  I want to know who, what, where, when, why, and how.  In the uncertain world of cancer, it almost never works out that way.   That’s where trust comes in.  Trust in your doctors, trust in your body (sometimes hard when you may feel it has let you down in the past), trust in what your gut is telling you, and trust in God and His plan for your life.  So, as I head into my next 3-month scans this coming week (prayers gratefully appreciated), I will choose to trust this journey will continue to work out for my best.  And that my foreseeable future will be nothing but bright.  I know it will be easier said than done, but I will choose it and then choose it again.  After all, the power to choose how we will view anything that happens in our lives is ours and ours alone.  So, let’s all choose to remain positive and enjoy each day that we are graciously given.  That’s a hopeful choice I can get behind.

 

Broken into Beautiful

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Being broken is really hard.  There are many different types of brokenness.  Over the last few months I have been dealing with a broken wrist.  It’s amazing how many things you need two hands for.  It seems even the simplest tasks are difficult when a wrist is broken.  I progressed from a cast to a brace to kinesiology tape to skin (really flakey, scaly skin).  I went from not using my left hand at all to doing easy stretching exercises to modified push-ups.  But that type of broken heals and life goes on pretty much as before (thank goodness).

Then there is the brokenness that accompanies something like a cancer battle.  When I began that journey I truly believed that if I survived the surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation it was only a matter of time before I would be back to my old self.  As I was coming back to life from all the poisons injected into my veins and radiated into my bone I held onto the hope that, after a period of healing, I would be good as new.  As the days turned into weeks, months, and years I realized the old me died with the cancer.  I felt “less than” and terribly broken, a brokenness that would not go away.  I wanted what I had BC (before cancer), but that was no longer an option.  If I can’t be who I was before, who am I now?  What is my new normal?

I have been slowly trying to learn who the new me is AC (after cancer).  The first thing I realized I needed to do was mourn the loss of BC me.  That is an ongoing endeavor.  But as I have been walking this road, I have discovered parts of the new me that never would have existed without the firewalk that was my life.  I have a depth that never would have developed had I not stared death in the face and won.  My friends say I am much more authentic and empathetic, traits that weren’t really valued in my prior life in corporate America.  My sister shared that she had always really loved me, but that she liked me more now (I think that may point back to the authenticity noted by my friends).  I have heard that it is where you are broken that the light can shine through you.  I picture myself as a vessel, with all these cracks.  As the sun shines on me some reflects off my broken edges, shining onto others, while some rays shine through my cracks, illuminating the darkness within.

Brokenness, in any form, is not easy.  It is not meant to be.  But if we take a step back, a deep breath, and ask what we are to learn from this experience, we might be pleasantly surprised with the answer.  We are never the same after having been broken, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be better.  Our definition of whole may need to change, but the new version can be stronger and more real than we ever could have been before.  Just as a broken bone regrows stronger at the point of the break, we can grow stronger from all the brokenness we experience.  Let’s embrace our new normal and be grateful for all we can learn during our hard times.  Let’s turn our brokenness into something beautiful.  And no matter what we are facing, let’s resolve to never give up hope!

 

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!