Caroline's Beach Birthday

A friend of mine had a dream to celebrate her 40th birthday at the beach with a few of her closest girlfriends. So she saved her money, rented a 12 bedroom beach house in North Topsail Beach, NC for a week and invited every lady friend she has across the country to join her.  Cool idea, huh? If you know Caroline TeSelle, the idea makes sense. For as long as I have known Caroline (and her husband, Greg), they have always been about loving Jesus and loving people and in so doing they create community wherever they go. I was honored to be on the receiving end of Caroline's invitation and blessed enough that all the details seemed to work themselves out for 5 of us Marylanders to travel down to represent the Mt. Oak church era of Greg and Caroline's life. Four days away at the beach with a few of my closest girlfriends was amazing in itself, but that was just the beginning of "the amazing". Caroline brought together 22 ladies from 7 states that connected in ways that are only possible when Jesus is at the heart of it.  

Caroline has been one of my most consistent cheerleaders as I have walked my Breast Cancer journey.  She has supported me with emails, texts, handwritten notes, a post on her blog, and a personal TeSelle family visit (complete with TeSelle hugs). But perhaps the way she touched me most was in her asking her friends to send handwritten notes and cards to me in the mail. What kind of friend does that?  Oh yeah, the kind that invites all of her friends to the beach for a week. And what kind of friends actually do send cards to someone they have never met just because someone asks them to? Caroline's friends and now that I have met a few of them I am no longer surprised at all! The trip to NC gave me the opportunity to meet these friends of Caroline's that prayed for me and sent me such encouraging words. 

The time away at the beach with these ladies was rich with conversation as we all sought to know each other and learn how each of us knew Caroline.  As we all shared stories about the impact that Caroline (and Greg) have had on our lives, I realized that community like the kind I experienced under their leadership over 15 years ago which has continued on with some of our closest friends has played such an important role in my journey through cancer. God's provision came through those around us that have loved us so well. I am forever blessed that I never walked the journey alone.

Happy Easter

There is a common question I hear when meeting people that have heard my story, “Do they think the cancer is gone?” The only response I know to give is what my oncologist has told me that the surgery removed all the known cancer from my body and the chemo was the insurance policy that killed off any stray cancer cells.  It sounds like a pretty promising answer and one I am continually grateful to give.  Although there is always the potential for the cancer to return (a fact I must constantly give over in prayer), I feel as though I have been healed.  As David says in Psalm 30: 2 “ O Lord my God I cried out to You, and You have healed me. O Lord, You have brought my soul up from the grave; You have kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit.”  He has preserved my life and with that I have a deeper understanding of His purpose for me.  He has given me greater understanding of my purposes as a wife, a mom, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a physical therapist.  But even more, I understand my purpose as a child of God who stands in complete awe of His Lovingkindness.  I am always striving to better prepare myself to focus on the magnitude of what Easter means.  I realize that the last 8 months have been my preparation.  Just as He rescued me from physical death during this cancer journey, his death on the cross and resurrection were my rescue from eternal death.  What a blessed Easter day this has been! 

Hope Needs Memories

Early on in my journey, Blake had pink bracelets made that say "Hope That Never Fails".  When he asked me what I thought the bracelets should say I kept coming back to the two things I felt would get me through everything I was about to walk through: God's Unfailing Love for me and the Hope that my relationship with Him gives me.  Recently I read about Hope being future-directed but also in need of our memories. "If we expect to keep hope alive, we need to keep memory alive." (from When Your World Falls Apart by David Jeremiah). I think the original intent of the pink bracelets was that it might be a reminder to our friends and family of our need for their prayers.  But now every time I see a pink bracelet either on my own wrist or on the wrists of many of you who have faithfully supported us, it is a visual reminder of God's faithfulness through everything that has happened over the last 9 months and it strengthens my Hope for what is ahead.  

I have talked a lot about not wanting to forget what I have been through, and I have come to realize that one of the ways to make sure it doesn't happen is through support.  By this I mean finding ways to get involved in the lives of others who have or are walking similar journeys. On Wednesday evening, I was able to take part in the kickoff of the Ulman Young Adult Cancer Support Group in Annapolis.  Ulman Cancer Fund is an organization aimed at supporting young adults that are diagnosed with cancer.  It is also the same group that helped to provide Christmas gifts for our kids. They are well-established in Baltimore and Howard counties but a few of us are hoping to start something in this area as well.  At this meeting, I was also able to talk with Ashley who is a social worker at AAMC's Breast Center about the possibilities of serving as a mentor in the S.O.S. program.  The S.O.S. program matches survivors that have had similar Breast Cancer journeys (but been out of treatment for at least a year) with recently diagnosed patients to provide support.  A few of my friends and I have also been putting together "kits" of a few necessary items to give to ladies that we hear of that are going through Breast Cancer surgery. Please let me know if there is anyone that might benefit from meeting with and being supported by some other young adult survivors through the Ulman group or any Breast Cancer patients that are about to go through surgery and would benefit from one of our kits.

The possibilites of becoming involved with support were definitely an exciting part of this week but our week has been full of other exciting things as well.  We enjoyed a great visit with Blake's sister, Fay and her husband, Jim from Colorado.  It was really fun to see the kids light up from being with their Aunty and Uncle.  With the exception of my parents, the rest of our family is either in Hawaii, Colorado or California. We wish our visits with family weren't so few and far between, but we have learned to cherish these memories made with our sweet family.  Monday was also my first day back to work since my last surgery. I can't say enough what being at work does for me. I love being with my co-workers and patients. I have had a few opportunities to share my story with patients (it is often necessary to just cut to the chase so they don't have to wonder about my hats) and that too is always a good reminder of where I have been. 

Speaking of hair and hats, it is slowly growing back.  I wish it weren't so gray but I had a feeling it would be this way and I know it is just temporary until I can get back to my friend, Megan. My eyebrows and eyelashes are growing back in as well but not before I lost every single one a month and a half after completing my chemo. I didn't expect that but I suppose the old needed to give way to the new. I have been taking Tamoxifen for almost two weeks now and so far, so good.  That is a huge answer to prayer. Other than a continuation of the hot flashes and some mild mood swinging, I seem to be without any significant side effects. My incisions are healing up nicely and I am getting used to the new me. Now I bide my time til April 11th when I can begin running again.  I will have one additional surgery in a month or two to complete the reconstruction, and then hopefully meet with the tattoo artist for the finishing touches. It is hard to believe the end is in sight.  

Never Once

Toward the beginning of my journey I had a few friends send me a song by Matt Redman called Never Once.  I listened to it then and was brought to tears, of course. This weekend I listened to it again and was brought to tears again but I was also incredibly inspired.  It made me think back on my entire journey thus far and the one overall message that my journey has taught me.  If someone were to read all of my journals, I hope the following would come through loud and clear.  We were not made for this world, which means that life is not guaranteed to be easy.  And when God allows hard stuff in our lives ("the Lands Between", "the Bends in the Road", "Disruptive Moments"), He is there to hold our hand through it and our relationship with Him is bound to never be the same.

I am preparing for the second phase of reconstruction this Wednesday morning.  As I mentioned, this is the procedure in which the expanders will be replaced with implants.  The pectoralis muscles and skin have been stretched over the last 6 months in preparation to hold these long-awaited implants.  Although I am quite excited for this big step, I am also struggling with having to put my trust in the plastic surgeon's hands to determine how my body will look from here on out.  Fortunately, I know the Lord also has a hand in how things turn out.  I definitely appreciate your prayers for this surgery on Wednesday and the next few weeks of my recovery. 

Making My Way Through "Normal"

Well life as "normal" has resumed.  Although my hours are short, I have really enjoyed the last two weeks of working again. I have found my way back to the gym and am feeling the burn of some good workouts. Work and exercise have also helped me get back to sleeping without the help of medication.  I look forward to maintaining this routine for two more weeks until I have my next surgery on February 29th. This will be the procedure in which the plastic surgeon replaces the expanders with silicone gel implants (we decided to go with silicone).  He says my recovery will be much easier than my last surgery. I will only be under anaesthesia for one hour, he will cut through the same incisions that were used during the last procedure, and I shouldn't need drains. No lifting anything for 2 weeks and no running for 6 weeks were the post-op instructions given to me so far.  One thing is for sure, I will not be sad to see these expanders go.  

Blake and I met with my Oncologist, Dr. Garg this week.  I got my congratulatory high five for finishing chemo.  It was great to be talking with him with chemo now in the rearview mirror.  He re-iterated that I would not need radiation since I had the mastectomy and my tumors were not greater than 4 cm and no lymph nodes were involved. In that moment of hearing him say that again, I was so grateful to the Lord for His protection against those things being true. We also discussed Tamoxifen and all of its wonderful side effects. He agreed that I could wait until after my surgery to start taking it.  Again he mentioned the main side effects as being hot flashes (which I already have from chemo) and mood swings.  I can deal with these if I could just be spared any nausea/vomiting. 

Since getting back into the swing of things, I have also noticed the worries of life creeping up on me.  I am determined not to let myself get back to the place I was before all of this started.  Blake and I are working on some practical steps we can take to keep this experience fresh in our hearts, and we appreciate your prayers in this area.  

I read this quote in When Your World Fall Apart :  

"We know not what the future holds 

But take each day as it unfolds 

The bitter with the sweet God blends

We wisely take what 'ere He sends

His dealings are in wisdom made, 

The warming sun or chilling shade.

On mountain top in the dell

Our Father doeth all things well."

-David B. Stewart

Fearing "Normal"

August 24th was a very sad day for me.  Not just because I knew that the next day I would undergo major surgery and my body would forever be different but because I had to say goodbye to my work as a physical therapist for a time.  For the last nine years, I have thoroughly enjoyed the opportunities I have had to meet and treat some really great patients.  I have also been extremely blessed to be surrounded by some pretty amazing co-workers who have provided me tremendous support throughout my journey. Today was a big day because it was my first day back at work.

  

This day did not come without some anxiety for me.  My concerns about returning to work were mostly about it being my first big step toward "normal" again.  As much as I have longed for life as normal to resume, I also fear "normal".  I worry that my times with the Lord reading scripture and praying will not have the same impact on me. I worry that I will fall into a pattern of discontent and forget to be grateful for every sweet moment I have been given. I worry that the perspective that cancer has given will fade and I will sweat the small stuff again. However, as I walked back into "normal" today, I realized something important. If I don't go there, then all that I have learned will be worth nothing.  This experience has without a doubt changed me and I believe I am better as a result of it.  Now is the time to step back into life as normal and make a difference with what I have learned.   

Rejoice in Today

Last Wednesday, I had my 6th and final chemotherapy treatment.  I woke that morning with the desire to dig my heels into the floor and refuse to go. It is hard to describe the feelings I get by simply walking into the Infusion Center. It really is a lovely place filled with lovely people but it has a smell and feeling that immediately bring on waves of nausea for me. Reluctantly, I went through with my chemo-morning rituals of showering, drinking plenty of water (and not coffe-blah!) and eating my baked potato. But another important thing happened that morning. Blake read the devotional from Jesus Calling outloud to me and prayed for my last treatment in the quiet of our kitchen (before the kids had started to stir). The devotional was about speaking your requests to the Lord with thankfulness at the way He was already putting into motion how He would answer them. I quickly realized that He had been so faithful to bring me through my chemotherapy journey thus far that why would He abandon me now on my last one? Confirmation of this came quickly. That morning I wondered who my nurse would be since I had a different nurse for each of my treatment sessions. One of the nurses who had been through breast cancer treatment about a year before popped into my head, and I thought it would be really neat if she were the one for the day. I arrived at the Infusion Center and was quickly taken back to get my weight and vitals taken. Of course, I looked down on my chart to see a little sticky note with the same nurse's name and my room number written on it.  Not only was I comforted and congratulated by the nurse that knew better than any other what it was like to go through it but I also had a corner room that was near to the bathroom and had plenty of light coming in the windows. I also had a few great friends visit me while I was there!

In the time since my last chemotherapy, my mind has started to wander to what's next.  I am eager to have the second phase of the reconstruction behind me and have started reading all the information in preparation for it. I am reading about shelf lives of implants and the differences between silicone and saline, not to mention all the potential complications that can come with having the implants. I have also been thinking a bit about the potential side effects of Tamoxifen, the drug that I will soon begin taking and need to take for the next five years to block estrogen and progesterone that has shown to drive my kind of cancer.  The potential side effects are hot flashes and mood swings but I am assuming in my case there is always the potential for nausea and vomiting. When I let my mind wander to these next steps, I start to get frightened that perhaps the chemotherapy that is now behind me was not the worst part of my journey.  But Jesus Calling continues to speak so clearly that I must rejoice in this day that the Lord has made (Psalm 118:24) and refuse to worry about tomorrow.  "Rehearsing your troubles results in experiencing them many times, whereas you are meant to go through them only when they actually occur. Do not multiply your suffering this way!"  So as I was shown at the very beginning of this journey, I will take each step as they come and choose to relax in His Presence as I reflect on all that He has brought me through so far.