Tag: prayer

And they thought it wasn’t possible

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“They” thought it wasn’t possible or at least it was highly unlikely.  I recently got home from my ten-year bone cancer scans and I remain cancer-free!  Okay, no one has ever said that, they say “no evidence of disease,” but I’ll take it.  And although my surgeon told me at the end of the appointment that he would see me in a year (as he has every year recently, before it was much more frequent), his after-visit summary posted online said so much more.  More on that a little later.

My bone cancer was a very rare and very aggressive sarcoma and the prognosis was not favorable.  You can find all the details in earlier blog posts.  So, each year that passed without a recurrence was both wonderful and remarkable.  Every visit to my surgeon for monitoring scans caused so much stress and anxiety and I often wondered how many years follow-up was necessary and responsible.  After about seven years, when I would ask my surgeon at each appointment (I suppose I was hoping the answer might someday change), he would respond that I had good insurance, so why not?  I would think “Why not?  Because each and every time I have to visit with you my PTSD kicks in with full force.”  I discussed this topic many times with my counselor.  He would always say I would know when/if the time was right to stop these appointments.  My intuition would let me know.  My intuition and I are not on as good terms as I would like.  I spent the first many years of my life living completely in my left brain.  There was no room for “feelings” and especially no room for listening to them if I had them.  Heading into each appointment I would pray that if I was to determine I was followed long enough I would be given some sort of confirmation.  Let me clarify something here.  I was not trying to stop monitoring my cancer status one second before I responsibly should, but I also didn’t want to keep putting myself through this solely out of fear.  So, I asked again this visit and his response was “why, do YOU want to stop monitoring this because it IS always your call, but your insurance will cover it?”  That may sound like a benign response, but my surgeon (in my opinion), although brilliant in the operating room, is very passive aggressive in person.  I’ve heard people refer to it (in relation to him) as “a God complex.”  That comment was very much said as if he did not recommend it, but if I wanted to override his recommendation he couldn’t stop me.  I made another appointment for next year on my way out.

This is why I was so surprised and excited when I read his after-visit summary.  He would never say anything the least bit encouraging during an appointment and was even more careful to not put anything remotely encouraging in writing.  But there it was.  Under the heading of “Plan” it said “At this point, it has been 10 years.  Chance of recurrence is very low, but not 0.  Her options are to follow-up as needed or we see the patient back here for routine oncology surveillance follow-up in 12 months with appropriate imaging studies as ordered.”  No doctor can ever tell anyone their chance of cancer is zero, but for him to put in writing that my chance of recurrence is very low and to offer the option of following up as needed going forward felt like exactly what I had been asking both my intuition and God for.  So, I canceled my 11-year follow-up appointment.  I won’t hesitate to schedule an appointment, if there is any question about something, but I really feel that was the confirmation I was requesting.

My Undifferentiated Pleomorphic Sarcoma bone cancer was so aggressive it doubled in size between the initial find and final diagnosis three months later.  Many of my other doctors have expressed their opinion that if any of this cancer was still remaining in my body it would have shown itself by now, but my surgeon never said anything like this even when I would ask him point blank.  So, his note spoke volumes to me.  I am reminded of my initial prognosis all those years ago and the bleak odds even though I did surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation.  There was no one in the medical field that I spoke with who really thought I’d be here ten years later.  But my family and I decided to take it one day at a time and never give up hope.  To my doctors I say thank you, to my family and friends I say thank you, but most importantly to God I say thank you.  I do not have my head in the sand, I am well aware there are no guarantees in life.  I will continue my ongoing scans/appointments for my more recent breast cancer diagnosis, but for now I am going to live each day choosing to believe I am healthy (even on the days my fear creeps back in).  When I reflect on my initial prognosis and if any other health concerns arise in my future, I will try to never forget something I have attempted to remember every step of my journey (some times more successfully than others).  People may count you out in this life, BUT GOD…

 

Seeing others through the lens of your heart

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Last week I found myself sitting in the waiting room of a breast imaging office.  It had been one year since my surprise breast cancer diagnosis and I was back for my annual scans.  In the past year I have undergone surgery, radiation, and the necessary follow-ups, but this was the first time they were specifically looking for any new developments.  To say I was anxious was an understatement.

As I was waiting to hear my name called by the Radiation Tech I noticed a woman, sitting a few seats away, with tears in her eyes.  I recognized the look of fear and uncertainty, as I am sure I have had a similar look many times over the last few years.  My heart immediately went out to her and I said “These scans can be really scary, can’t they?”  She began to cry and went on to explain she had recently noticed a lump, had a mammogram, and was referred to a breast surgeon.  She had seen the surgeon this morning and was now waiting to be called back for her biopsy.  As she continued, she expressed fear that it was cancer (as breast cancer ran in her family), she didn’t know if the surgeon she was referred to was a good one, and that this time of year was such an awful time for all this to be happening.  I was immediately drawn back to last year when I was experiencing the exact same emotions and concerns.

I asked her who the surgeon was that she had just met and the name she mentioned was my surgeon.  He was wonderful!  So compassionate, caring, willing to take whatever time you needed, and so knowledgeable and experienced in his field.  I immediately told her what great hands she was in and shared my very positive experience with him.  I also shared that I knew exactly what she was going through, as I was sitting where she now is just one year ago.  She asked me many questions about my diagnosis and subsequent treatments and seemed a little less fearful and alone.  I was never so thankful for an appointment running behind before and knew God had placed me in that exact seat, at that exact time, for just this reason.  We exchanged names and I told her I would be praying for her in the coming weeks.  She began to cry again, but this time from a place of some relief and a feeling of being heard and understood.

Just a few short years ago I don’t think I would have noticed a woman, emotionally distraught, sitting in a waiting room with me.  If I had I am not sure I would have engaged, as I wouldn’t have had any idea what I should say.  But that day I was there, present and willing to connect with another human being in need.  I was willing to see with my heart and not just my eyes.

I was called back just a few minutes later and prayed for her as I changed for my scans.  The wonderful news is my scans were clear and the surgeon doesn’t feel I need to be scanned again for another year.  I am so thankful, but am also very aware that it doesn’t always go that way.  My mammogram friend has been so on my mind and in my heart over the last week.  I will continue to pray for her as she awaits her pathology results and makes any necessary decisions over the next few weeks and months.  And I continue to be grateful that I was there that day and was able to see someone in pain instead of just being lost in my own fear over the tests of the day.

As this holiday season fast approaches, let’s all look for ways to see others through our hearts and not just with our eyes.  There are so many hurting people all around us who need our smile, kind glance, or willing ear.  Be on the lookout for opportunities to be for others what we sometimes need others to be for us.  Wishing each of you a peace that passes all understanding during this holiday season.

 

Radiation, but no chemo!

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Consultation after consultation.  More doctors’ appointments than I could keep straight.  I just looked back through my calendar and this is the list of who I saw just in January: Surgeon, Oncologist, Palliative Care, Dietician, Cancer Rehab, Radiation Oncologist, and Social Worker.  Thank goodness for good insurance.  The consensus was no chemotherapy was warranted (thank God), but daily whole breast radiation with a boost to the tumor site was recommended.  That began in February and completed in March.  April is mainly dedicated to recovery from the radiation treatment, physical therapy/rehab, my covid vaccines, and the start of daily maintenance meds (an aromatase inhibitor to suppress my estrogen production) for the next five years.  Please pray the side effects from that medication are minimal.  I am thankful for modern medical advancements, but am tired, both physically and mentally.

That was a long way to say I am well on the road to recovery and thank each one of you for your kind words, thoughts, and prayers over these last few months!  A cancer diagnosis is something no one ever wants, but far too many of us experience. We can do all we know to do to reduce our chances, but there is nothing that is guaranteed to make us bulletproof.  So, I continue to eat healthfully (whole food, plant based), work on my mental health (PTSD is a very real part of these journeys), and pray this is the last time I face this disease.  I know many of you have been affected by cancer or have someone close to you who has.  There is so much fear associated with this diagnosis.  I recently read “Courage is fear that has said its prayers.” So, I pray.  I pray for courage to just do the next thing and a peace that passes all understanding.  I pray that for every one of you as well.  Let’s embrace the comfort and hope that is found in community and continue doing this thing called life together!

 

Back in the fight

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It began just like any other day.  It was two weeks before Christmas, I had errands to run, and my annual mammogram and ultrasound scheduled.  And then it happened, “there is an abnormality on your ultrasound.”  “Most likely a glandular mass.”  “Recommend a biopsy just to be safe.”  Life went into slow motion.  What if it’s cancer again?  I can’t do this again!  I scheduled the biopsy for the following week.  The day arrived and the physician agreed with the original radiologist that it looked like a glandular mass (not a concern).  I would have the pathology in two days.  Those two days moved like molasses in winter.  And then the call from my GYN, it was Breast Cancer.  Cancer, a word I NEVER wanted to hear again in my life.

I saw the surgeon the week of Christmas and was scheduled for surgery the week between Christmas and New Year.  What a holiday season it was.  What-ifs weighed heavy on my mind at all times, even though I knew focusing on it every second wouldn’t change anything.  The day of surgery arrived.  First, I was sent for a sentinel lymph node injection and locating, then on to a needle localization (a wire is inserted into the mass using imaging guidance, that was fun).  Finally, it was time for surgery.  I was so thankful I was able to do all this as an outpatient, especially given the current Covid situation.  Now to start the surgery recovery and await the pathology.  The lab was really backed up with two holidays in the previous two weeks and the understaffing because of the pandemic.  What should have been two to three days dragged on to nine, long days.  When it finally came back this past week the results were favorable (as favorable as a cancer can be).  I will see the surgeon for follow-up this coming week and get more information then.

Then, I’m off to the oncologist.  I am hoping the next steps won’t include chemotherapy!  There’s that work, Hope.  It seems to appear more in my life in the last few years than ever before.  Hope is so important, but sometimes so elusive. There have been so many times in my cancer battles that hope felt all but lost.  Yet here I am!  I am left wondering what the purpose is in all these diagnoses, but I choose to believe there is one.

So, I am firmly back in the fight again.  A place I never wanted to be once, no less twice.  Questioning why my immune system seems to not be able to contain rogue cancer cells before they become something more.  I have changed my eating choices to the most inhospitable for cancer growth (whole food, plant based), am at a healthy weight (most of the time), work on my stress management (not always too successfully, if I am being totally honest), but here I am.  So I ask you, my Hopeful Survivor friends, to send well wishes and/or prayers my way during these next few months.  I think community is so important and I consider each of you mine.  And never forget, as you face your own road you never wanted to travel, that there is always hope!  It is not only my blog byline, but a constant theme in my life.  Wishing you all a healthy and peaceful new year and sending so much love your way!

 

Just Ask Him

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Last night I found myself watching one of my husband’s favorite television shows with him, “Star Trek: The Next Generation.”  The episode we watched involved a god-like entity that controlled the destiny of a planet they visited.  One of their crew members unknowingly violated a law on that planet and was sentenced to death.  Captain Picard was wrestling with the decision of whether to let that one crew member be killed and leaving the planet with no additional casualties or forcefully removing him (saving his life) and risking that the god-like entity might destroy the entire Enterprise and its crew.  I found myself yelling at the tv “why don’t you just ask him?!?”  I wasn’t sure the entity would answer, but he didn’t even ask.  Picard was instead trying to guess what logic and thought process the entity would employ.  After much stress and unnecessary energy spent, he removed the crew member from the planet and waited.  The entity did not react.  Picard was then trying to determine his next course of action and decided to (finally!) ask the entity if he would allow it.  The entity immediately responded.  How many times in our lives do we spend so much unnecessary energy on situations that could be resolved if we just asked the question?

The questions differ, but the idea remains the same.  You are struggling trying to handle all that life is throwing at you that day.  You can’t understand why your spouse who “claims” to love you, doesn’t jump in and help you.  Did you ask?  Do they even know you’re struggling (you are looking like a superwoman on the outside)?

You feel that there is a strain in your relationship with your best friend.  You are “sure” you must have done something that offended her and you wrack your brain reviewing all your interactions over the last week, trying to figure out what it was.  You concoct an elaborate story in your mind of what you said and how she interpreted it incorrectly, but do you ask her?  Maybe she’s dealing with something totally unrelated that is causing her stress and she could really use your help, but she doesn’t ask either.  So now you are both struggling when it could be eased by just asking for some support.

As I was lying in bed last night and reviewing how my husband thinks Captain Picard is the best Enterprise captain because he is so smart and controlled (yes, I was actually thinking about this in bed last night) and thinking he actually wasn’t that smart because he could have caused himself so much less grief if he had just asked, I was caught up short.  How many times have I done the exact same thing?  How many times could I have spared myself anxiety, upset, and stress if I had just asked for what I wanted?  I reviewed my current struggles to determine if anything came to mind where I should ask.  My thoughts were immediately drawn to the constant pain I have in my feet and legs because of my chemo induced peripheral neuropathy.  I try to keep a positive attitude about my nerves’ ability to heal (even though the Neurologist specializing in neuropathy in our area told me seven years ago that it would NEVER get any better).  I eat a healthy, whole food plant based, organic diet and work on my mental and emotional health regularly, but am still in chronic pain.  God knows all I’ve been through over the last eight years.  He knows how I want so badly for my nerves to heal.  But how often do I actually ask Him to heal them?  I sometimes slip it into my other prayers, but how often do I set aside some time just to pour my heart out to Him on this one topic?  Not often enough.

What areas in your life would benefit from you just asking for what you need?  Just asking for what you want?  Just asking for your heart’s deepest desire?  I’m not saying all your problems will magically disappear when you do, but it might be worth finding out.  Like Captain Picard, you will never know until you try.  Just ask!

 

Every day is a gift

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Not every day feels like a gift.  There are days where the to-do list runneth over, the kids are particularly wild, your significant other is getting on your last raw nerve, or you don’t have a significant other (although you have been praying for one FOREVER).  Or maybe your “doesn’t feel like a gift” focuses more on physical problems.  I have severe chemo induced peripheral neuropathy in my legs and feet, which causes daily, chronic pain even six plus years after treatment.  My pelvic bone (which was resected and now has very sharp edges) and surrounding tissues ache or hurt often.  My energy levels have never returned.  These issues seem to chant in my ears, “you call this is a gift?”

YES!  I am still alive!  Others are not that fortunate.  That was brought home so clearly last month when I learned a dear high school friend woke up one Sunday morning and thought it was a day like any other.  It was not.  He had a stroke and never got to kiss his sweet wife good night, as she went to bed that night in a bed that would never be the same.  Another high school friend, who has always lived a healthy and active life, suffered a heart attack last week while working out at the gym. Thankfully he survived, but not before having a stent placed in a totally clogged artery.  You see, every day that you wake up is a gift.

There is always something to be grateful for, even in the worst of days.  Sometimes you just have to look a little harder.  Do you have a friend you can call when you just need to talk?  Is the sun shining?  Is there a roof over your head?  Is your water safe to drink?  Is your heart still beating?  We all have so many things to be grateful for.  So, if today doesn’t feel like the gift you wish you were opening, look for three things you can be grateful for.  Just three.  It doesn’t matter how big or how small.  Come up with three.  And then really feel the gratitude.  Feel it in your heart and in your soul and say thank you.  Every day is truly a gift, even if it is wrapped a little differently than you might wish.  There are so many others who no longer have the chance to unwrap a new tomorrow.  As long as you are still breathing, there are reasons for gratitude and hope (and you all know how much I like hope).

 

I Am Here

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You may be asking yourself, has Hopeful Survivor fallen off the face of the earth?  Is something wrong?  Did she decide to stop blogging and never tell anyone?  The answer to all these questions is “No.”  I am painfully aware that I have been MIA lately.  I haven’t blogged in a while for two main reasons. One is that I have had one health issue after another.  None are life threatening (thank God) and after a cancer diagnosis I feel like non-life-threatening ills shouldn’t count.  But they do.  They still make you feel lousy, sap your energy, and lead to discouragement.  It all began with a UTI in September, followed by the lead up to my regularly scheduled cancer scans (which always cause worry and anxiety).  Before I even learned my results (yay, they were clear!), I started with the symptoms of what I now call “The Plague.”  I am not trying to be melodramatic, but after two doctor visits (in which I was told it is not the flu, but will last and feel like it), and 7 weeks flat on my back, I didn’t know what else to call it.  A cold just didn’t seem to adequately describe it. Thanksgiving this year was spent in bed, as my wonderful husband made our Thanksgiving dinner, complete with turkey, for just the two of us.  That took me into December and yet another UTI.  And let’s not forget the ever-present peripheral neuropathy.  So, blogging wasn’t exactly in the forefront of my mind.

The second and bigger reason was that I didn’t feel like I had anything to say.  I truly feel that this blog is a calling for me.  If I am being honest, I would prefer not to do it, as I am normally a very private person.  But I know that I know that I know that I lived through my cancer battle for a reason. I never forget that my prayer during that time was if I had to go through all this, that it not be wasted. I also know that, when diagnosed, I searched for one person who had lived with my very rare form of cancer (Undifferentiated Pleomorphic Sarcoma of the pelvis) and couldn’t find anyone.  I thought that if one other person had survived, then I could too.  So now I offer myself as that person for those of you who feel hopeless and despondent. That is my message, so I actually do have something to say.  If you are feeling that life isn’t fair, you are correct.  If you are feeling like you can’t take one more thing added to the long list of things you are currently dealing with, I am right there with you. But if you feel like you can’t go on, you are wrong.  You can go on and life can get better!  Maybe not in a linear fashion, getting a little better every day, but it can get better. Hope plays a huge part in that. There is always hope that tomorrow may be better than today, or at least next year may be better than this year. If we give up hope, there really is no reason to continue fighting the fight or take the next step on our journey (whatever that journey may be).  I am still here for a reason and I believe it is to help spread hope to the hopeless.  If you are feeling hopeless in one or many areas of your life right now, I am here. I understand and I care. Sometimes listening, encouraging, and refusing to give up on each other is why we are here.  I AM HERE!!

 

No news is good news

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At least that’s what my surgeon says.  You see, he will not call me if my scans are clear, only if there is a problem (I would bet he has never waited anxiously for test results or he would be more compassionate).  My husband describes that waiting period as “a slowly fading sense of dread.”  So, the endpoint is a phone call from my surgeon (bad news) or when the results are finally posted to our hospital’s online portal (good news).  That posting occurred yesterday.  There is no indication of recurrence on the x-rays or MRI (the actual words were “No evidence of residual or recurrent disease”).  Sweeter words were never spoken (or read)!!!

Now I move to annual scans, a milestone I have been looking forward to for six years.  I can’t even imagine being able to live for an entire year without periodic scans hanging over my head, but I am really looking forward to finding out how that feels. Maybe I will plan a vacation for 11 months in the future.  Wow, what a concept.  Thank you so much for your kind words and prayers, as I approached these latest tests. They were felt and carried me through this waiting period.  My blog tribe is the best in the world and I never take your support for granted. Celebratory hugs all around!

 

It’s that time again

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You would think it would get easier, but it doesn’t seem to work out that way.  My next scans are scheduled later this week.  Anxiety abounds.  I tell myself that the greatest risk of recurrence was in the first 2-3 years.  I tell myself that these are my 6 year scans and I have been clear to date.  And then I remember ALL the stories people have shared with me about friends and relatives who made it to 5 years, got the all clear, and then it came back everywhere and they died.  Yes, you can’t imagine how many of those stories I have been told.  I never understand why people think that is helpful.

I also remember what happened last year, at my 5 year scans.  I don’t know how many of you read all about that in last year’s blog posts (feel free to look back at them, if you want more of the details), but the short version is my surgeon read my scans and said they looked clear, only to call me 3 days later and say the Radiologist saw something and he is “very concerned.”  When your cancer surgeon tells you he is “very concerned,” you become VERY CONCERNED!  So, although it ended up being a false alarm, the PTSD is real.  My body experienced emotions and trauma that were worse than during the initial diagnosis. You see, when I received my original cancer diagnosis I knew it would be bad, but I had NO idea how bad.  Now I know and that makes the prospect of a recurrence all the more excruciating.

So, I approach these scans with anxiety, logic, dread, hope, and lots of prayer.  I tend to beat myself up over the anxiety and dread parts.  After all, I have made it this far, although statistics lead us to believe I wouldn’t.  I also feel like somewhat of a fraud because I started a blog called Hopeful Survivor.  I am hopeful, just not every second of every day.  So, I write this in the spirit of authenticity and with the hope that it encourages others who are afraid of what the future might hold.  Hope is a powerful emotion and one that is crucial for creating a life worth living.  As I approach this week’s scans and the results of those scans, I acknowledge my emotions.  I honor what I am feeling.  And I move forward with hope.  Prayers and positive energy gratefully accepted.

 

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!