The Spring of 2012

“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.”
― Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Earnest Hemingway wrote one of my favorite quotes in A Moveable Feast. I love his description of spring. It is so accurate in my opinion to the lessons in life. We know all winter long that we have a hope of spring in the next season. Consider the many different scenarios that define a winter season in life. No matter how dismal the shortened days of winter are, we still hope for newness of life. We are somewhat tormented when cold temperatures, wind and rain seem to suspend spring. Still, there is hope in our patience. We see no good reason for the delay of spring.... until we see and smell the bloom! 

I didn't love the day I was diagnosed, but the parallel timing of my circumstance to this favorite quote was sublime. My diagnosis came in the dead of winter on December 15th.  Stored away in my heart was this quote and the hope of spring which I think about often. I was so excited to know that in the darkest days of treatment that the grass would turn green and the fruit trees would swell with sweet fruit. I am thrilled that the timing was merciful. This is my third chemo treatment and the rose bushes are blooming! It is something beautiful to focus on and be grateful for.

Two weeks after my first treatment, I proactively shaved my head to avoid the trauma and frustration of  my hair falling out, but now I am shinny bald. Being bald because you shave your head is empowering. Being bald because the quarter inch nubs have fallen out  feels entirely different. It is violating. It is exposing. It is humiliating.  I had a moment in the process that spoke clearly to my soul that I was not in charge. Swollen faced from the steroids, sunken eyes, rashes, metallic taste in my mouth, enormously tired and grey complexion; I finally break from the constant beating of cold rains. I don't know the woman with the disfigured body in tears who stares back at me in the mirror. Hope. Therefore, I hope for spring, a newness of life and I hope that the frozen river will flow again. This basket of blooming roses point to spring and are a fragrant reminder that something wonderful lies behind this winter. 

There is a great transforming purpose to this stripping down that brings humility to fullness. My motives have been exposed. I've been controlling  life while trying to find some sort of security. I trusted God while I was searching for this security. Am I the only one who looked for security in the world? I thought financial security would make me invincible. It obviously didn't. The market changed and security was fleeting and cancer came anyway. Truthfully, I never felt as much fear as when I was financially secure. I laid awake many nights fearful that the money would be lost. My motives have been uncovered as I discovered that commitment and loyalty to family would provide security. It didn't. People are human and as unpredictable as spring weather. When they are afraid, they hide. People can't secure you because they are imperfect and flawed. My motives have become transparent to my own eyes as I saw that security can't be found in my status. It can't. Pride is woven so eloquently in affluence that you can barely see where one ends and the other begins. Pride fails and pride falls every time. Pride refuses to secure you. These are all the things I worked for, all the things I tried to control, all the things that motivated me. Not one of these things protected me, rescued  or gave me peace when I received my diagnosis of  breast cancer. It is not a bad thing to have any of these things. However, I was motivated to find security in these things and that was like a cancer of a different kind. I mentioned that I trusted God while I was busy working towards "success" in these areas. Blind, blind, blind... but now I see.
Why not trust God for my security? He has financially provided for us. He has been a rock solid infallible family member and  glorifying His status has given me indescribable security. The kind that changes your countenance.

I'm re-prioritizing! Re-organizing! Re-evaluating! Spring Cleaning! Part of me had to die in this winter, as Hemingway suggests. My fast growing cells had to die and my wrong motives also had to die. Thank goodness I will never be the same again. I'm busy about the task of spring cleaning closets, drawers, thoughts, behaviors, relationships and patterns. I won't get it all done over night, but at least I'm working in the right direction.  I have a new motivation and new purpose. Everything just looks different in the spring of 2012.  Can you imagine? Every action, every word spoken, every detail was based out of a self serving motivation. Gosh, I'm so glad that there is a spring around the corner of every winter.

One last treatment next Tuesday, May 1st and that's the last of the wind and the cold, wintery light of this season. I hope I haven't wasted a morsel of all that cancer has to teach me so far. I'm not looking forward to the next round since my body is already compromised. I'm sure that there will be more wisdom coming and I think it has to do with....... ( to be continued) 

A Moveable Feast  is a set of  memoirs written by Earnest Hemingway about his life and internship as a writer in Paris. His book was published the year I was born in 1964, three years after his passing. Just an interesting footnote, thought I'd share it with you. 

Round 2 and half way done!

Some people ask if chemo therapy hurts. No. It’s as silent and sneaky as the disease of cancer itself. Of course if you are like me and you don’t like needles, don’t like looking at them or feeling them, then I’d say- yep being a human pin cushion hurts. Otherwise, the only thing you can feel is the cold liquid pumping into your veins. Then a few days later it sneaks up on you with a queasy stomach, head ache, metallic taste in your mouth and a wide variety of other side effects that peek about 10 days after the drip. Weeks later you may lose your hair, coloring, nails and sense of humor. This is what happens when poison is used to eliminate fast growing rebellious cells.

So where can a cancer fighting patient find joy? It’s in all the beautiful people you meet along the way of the journey.  Yesterday I had my second round of treatment and went to a beauty class all in one day. The class was called “Look Good Feel Better.” A nonprofit organization that generously gives beauty supplies to women going through chemo treatment. I found them when I was doing my research months ago through the American Cancer Society. I went to get support and encouragement, but quickly found that giving support and encouragement felt way more natural. Everyone was in the same treatment stage.  They had either just had their second round or going to have it in a few days. We compared war stories like old army buddies. We giggled at our bald heads, no eyebrows while swapping new wigs, scarves and hats.  “Look Good Feel Better” gave us a healthy supply of new make-up which we applied in each other’s company while exploring new colors and techniques. For a couple of hours yesterday, I found a spot of humanity in this whole process. I forgot that I was being treated for cancer and just felt the kindred friendship of my new buddies.  It occurred to me that this was just the same feeling as the first day on a new job, sitting next to a stranger, the first day of school and maybe even the first time behind a wheel. It is just a new experience.

Then reality hit at the very end of class when my new friend Carol age 70, a real pistol, told me that her daughter 45 year old  Dawn was in Chicago dyeing of liver cancer as she was battling breast cancer. I could have sat there for hours to talk with her as the facilitators were turning out the lights and picking up the trash. I’ll pray for you Carol and Dawn too as I waved good-bye! My God, why? Why must this woman be tormented to be away from her dying daughter while she takes her own cancer treatment? All of a sudden my circumstance became so minimal.

I have been forced to stand at the door of mortality and knock to see if the door was open. It takes a little more courage to do that then knocking on doors to sell Girl Scout cookies, but not much more.  Without Jesus, I would not be strong enough to do this. The most courageous person I know is my sister. Once we were standing on her front lawn at 2 am in the morning and a car came screeching by out of control. It slammed into a block wall perpendicular to her house. I gasped and put my hand over my mouth in disbelief. I was paralyzed by the sight. My sister’s reaction set her feet into motion and she ran across the street to see if the crumbled up car had a survivor. There was a girl inside still alive and a call was made to 911. All of this happened before my hand came away from my mouth. I was paralyzed with fear and no courage.

I don’t watch scary movies because I know that my lack of courage will keep me up at night. Cancer is one crazy scary movie! So, when people say that I am courageous and brave. I just laugh because I know that’s not me! That has to be God in me. His word says to focus on noble things, so I do. His Word says that I (the weak) am strong, therefore I am. His Word says that He will strengthen me and I have witnessed this first hand. Thank goodness that the weakness in my character, basically a coward, is where God is illuminated in me.

Several times Christian women have spoken out and told me that they felt the need to encourage me with Psalm 91. There was one young lady who is a friend of my son who had a beautiful quilt made with scriptures all over it for me and sent it home with a book about Psalm 91. What a blessing it has been to read line by line details about this promise of protection in Psalm 91. The verse that jumps right on my heart is

Psalm 91:7

A thousand shall fall at you’re your side, and ten thousand at your right hand;

but it shall not come near you.

I believe that I am healed. Not by my own understanding, but that of my God. I can’t ignore the repetition of scripture that people share with me that bequests my belief! God doesn’t Promise me everything I ask for. But this time I just KNOW that I know that he has promised me this. I will hold on to this promise and speak it out loud as often as I can.

Getting back to standing at the door of mortality and waiting with sweaty palms for an answer to my knock. I’ve asked myself a few questions. When I see the face of Jesus do I want to tell him about all the things I’ve done and accomplished or do I want to know that I did all He wanted me to do? Do I want to have a million dollars in the bank or do I want to touch a million lives? Do I want accolades and approval from man or do I want to walk in the confidence that Jesus perfected of my life? What do I really want out of this life for the rest of the days I have?

I have waited at the door of mortality and decided that it is not going to open for me today. I pivot on my rear heals and about face setting out to search for His sheep to feed, looking for a million hearts to hold with the confidence that God has a perfect plan for my life. Time to be obedient and do the things I know He wants me to do. I will abandon my plans and chose His for the rest of my life.

And this is the gift that cancer gave to me!

Bald is Beautiful

Having your head shaved sort of compares to skydiving, I would imagine. I woke up on Monday morning with an excessive amount of hair left behind on my hairbrush. I noticed that my head was tingling all day that day. I imagined it was the follicles in my head letting go of the hair. It was so itchy, but I was too afraid to scratch my head in fear that the hair would fall right out! By Tuesday night it was coming out when I ran my hands through it! I hadn’t washed it since Sunday because of the horror stories I heard from other survivors that it came out in the shower! Wednesday morning I woke up and put my hands on my head to see it was still there instead of on the pillow and  it was, whew. I made it! I made it to the appointed day to shave my head.

About a month ago I popped in a little boutique called “The Wig Cottage.” They specialize in helping survivors make the adjustment from hair loss to wigs and scarves. With my whole head of hair intact, the staff helped me pick out a wig that had the same texture, style and color as my very own hair. I tried on some fun wigs and each time I turned to my husband for his opinion. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I tried on the Lady Godiva wig. Long blonde wig, went down to my waist with surfer bangs. I looked about 18 and could see the real adventure of this wig thing… only to turn and look at him with a disappointed head nod… nope that one wasn’t the one!

Finally, I settle on the strawberry blonde “Malibu.” It was a perfect match even down to the roots! It looked like my hair on a really good hair day. I also picked out a baseball cap with extensions sown in and a nightcap. No, not shot of whiskey, a little flannel hat to keep my head warm at night time because after all you lose 80% of your body heat through your head. There was special shampoo for my head and the wig too. Also, some soothing glaze for my itchy head.

All of these things where right there waiting for me at “The Wig Cottage.” I made the appointment exactly two weeks out  from my 1^st treatment as recommended by the staff there. I barely made it! I had a client in the morning and one in the afternoon. So, I thought getting my head shaved between clients on a lunch break was perfect. Although, I was a bit concerned that if it were an emotional experience; would I be able to carry on the day? That was the mauling thought as we pulled up in the parking lot. The morning distraction was sweet and I didn’t have a minute to think about it until I saw the “Wig Cottage” sign.  Nervous and anxious, no return, big deep breath… okay, I’m ready.

I didn’t tell my stylist that I was a wreck inside. I’m sure she already knew. She simply turned my chair so I was looking into my husband’s eyes instead of the mirror. He stared back at me, never looking away.  I heard the buzz of the shears and experienced the greatest relief of itchy head that is known to man. Oh my goodness, it felt so good. I know now why a dog’s leg moves when you scratch its belly. Ahhhhhh……………I didn’t even care that she was taking it off.  No more worries that it’s going to fall out at the wrong time or suddenly. No more stray hair flying in my eyes, mouth and nose. I can wash and scratch my head! I think when people describe skydiving to me that’s what they are talking about. Scared to do it, but so glad they did!

Once she shaved my head she put my wig on immediately so still didn’t have to look at my bald head until I got home. I was so thankful!  With wig on, she turn me around and started to give me a hair cut by cutting the wig to perfection so it was custom to my face and taste. What a great experience. Once I finished my day and got home I was able to take the wig off and look at my head in the privacy of my own home. It wasn’t so bad. I found a few childhood scars that prompted some memories and stories that I repeated to my husband. Tried on my hat, used a hand held mirror to see from every angle, and sent a few pictures of my bald head to those who asked, practiced putting on my wig and ended up just wearing a scarf for the rest of the evening.

Here’s the best part of the day. There was a package waiting for me when I got home. It was from a woman named Joy, who is a survivor. Inside the package was a scarf that Joy was passing on to me. The scarf was given to her by another survivor. She was also Stage II. The scarf is stunning and was purchased in Paris. She sent a beautiful card with it that had the most charming words of encouragement that congratulated me for making it through diagnosis and surgery so far.  It was a message of Hope that arrived at precisely the right moment. Coincidence?  No, that’s how much my God loves me and that’s how much He wants me to know that He is with me.  

Hello Therapy Room

Hello Therapy room, filled with 3 aisles of yellow reclining chairs. Each aisle had six chairs facing one another, three on each sidewith IV poles on the side of each chair. The gigantic window that stretch from one end of the room to the other and from top to bottom created an outdoor/ indoor environment. Almost like a sun room.

The lady who sat directly across from my reclining chair in our sunshiny room, is considerably older than I and barely a hundred pounds. She looked like a pro at this with her shoes kicked off and a nice bulky book to read. She was so darn cute I could have put her in my pocket. I instantly loved her. She looked up out of her pages a few times and I caught her glance while I was being hooked up. She could tell I was a newbie. I think I saw a twinkle in her eye as she simply sent an encouraging smile across the aisle. Taking her lead, I reclined my chair, kicked off my shoes, snuggled in my pink furry blanket my favorite aunt gave me with my name and a pink ribbon done in bling-bling. I sorted through the Susan G Koman bag of goodies and entertainment that I packed for Gilligan Island's 3 hour tour ( treatment lasted for 3 hours) and picked out my “Crazy Love” book that was given to me by a wonderful Christian sister. It wasn’t long before my aisle buddy took off her little beanie to show my husband and I how her hair was holding up and shared her story about having the hair dresser cut it very short but not totally off as it began to fall out. That little twinkle in her eye disappeared and I saw a vulnerable woman with her insecurity covered by a little beanie. A quick glance back to our books gave us a little break from the eye contact that was about to produce a tear or two. Unspoken rule #1 DO NOT CRY IN THE THERAPY ROOM! When in doubt think about others.

And so I did. I began to just pray for my new friend with the same chant I learned from my 15 year self as a cheerleader. I was going to be her personal cheerleader for the rest of our treatment. Another Aisle buddy joined us. He has melanoma and it was his first time too. So, I prayed for his healing. There were more people who came to the therapy room. One other young man with testicular cancer had his laptop open with pictures of his two little sweetheart children. I met him earlier.. so I prayed for him. Another lady I saw as I went to the bathroom had such a look of disappear on her face that was so intense that I felt it when I walked by, so I prayed for her too. The room filled with more and more patients and I prayed for as many as I could see.

When I got tired of reading I listened to an ipod that my daughter gave me last year for my birthday. First song was Matthew West. “ Strong Enough” Before you listen to the beautiful song join me in this experience of looking up at the Therapy dripping from the IV. Gratitude overwhelmed my heart and I felt it’s expansion was greater than the cold fluid entering my body. I could only think of it as a gift straight from heaven. God knew that I had cancer and no insurance. He knew that I had just lost every penny to my name from 2006-2012 in the real estate crash. A grand total of one million dollars. Busted broke and at rock bottom. He was there when all three of my daughters moved out of state within 6 short months. My Lord has buffered it all with His tender mercies and as a loved one reminds us; with His grace upon grace.

Listen with me again!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xgeimdWjZmM&feature=fvsr


The bracelet on my hand in this picture was given to me by one of my best friends. She took it right off of her wrist and put it on my wrist. I thought it extraordinary as she has worn this bracelet everyday for as many years as I can remember. I know the sacrifice was hard for her. It doesn’t compare to the blessing of wearing it over the vein that carried the curing therapy to my body.



There is authority and power in Jesus

“If I don’t write to empty my mind, I go mad…”

                                                           Lord Byron

Gosh, I have been dreading this for days and weeks! Everyone made it so endurable that I walk away feeling like I experienced a shower of love. The kind of shower that grows your heart to a greater capacity to receive. We’ve all met people who had a Big Heart. I want to have one of those.. A Big Heart! Thank you God for growing my heart.

Prepare yourself to see the word therapy written down and know that I mean chemo. I just can’t call it chemo. It is tied to so many bad implications. Realistically today’s therapy really doesn’t compare to the way it was used like a loose cannon in the days of past. Doctors are so specific in the way they prescribe it. That’s why I had to wait for more tests to be done before we got started. No doctor is going to prescribe a medication for you that has more consequences than the disease they are fighting. Not to mention all the in-between blood tests to monitor ever organ and blood count. So from here on out I am going to call it Therapy!

We left for Therapy about 10am on Wednesday morning which was only about 45 minutes after I spoke with the nurse who said they had an opening! This is NOT a typical way to start your first day of therapy! For me though, it was a better way. Last week I had read a three ring binder filled with possible side affects and it had me so freaked out that I just wasn’t ready and ultimately glad that therapy was postponed last week.

I had a dream a few days before we started that I was in agreement with the rest of my body parts that we were ready to get therapy. As if they could talk to me?

That dream came on the heals of a MUGA-Scan test that I took on Monday. The MUGA -Scan measured all the functions of my heart valves so we could have a baseline knowledge of its health. If I end up needing more aggressive treatment recommended by the Mayo Clinic they will want this test. The most significant part of having this test was the positive self talk I found during it. As I lay there strapped to the table and arms pinned down to a tiny one foot wide table and a massive diagnostic machine over me within inches of my very scarred and flat chest, the fight internalized. All of a sudden I heard the 15 year old Clark High School cheerleader in me begin to chant.

V I C T O R Y. Victory, Victory, that’s our cry!

Go Fight Win! Defense Jesus Defense!

Push ‘m Back!

R.e.- R.e.b.- R.e.b.o.u.n.d. Rebound!

Then I could hear the almost audible sound in my ears of men marching. Thousands of marching boots. I could visualize Gladiators holding spears in the shape of a cross and marching, looking for the enemy.

It was then that I remembered that there is a protein structure outside our cells called Laminin. It forms the shape of a cross. With all this strength of mind, I knew there was authority and power in what Jesus has asked of me. To Believe!

Google~

Laminin is a protein that is part of the extracellular matrix in humans and animals. The extracellular matrix (ECM) lies outside of cells and provides support and attachment for cells inside organs (along with many other functions). Laminin has “arms” that associate with other laminin molecules to form sheets and bind to cells. Laminin and other ECM proteins essentially “glue”

2nd Opinion

I must have read in every cancer book that part of this journey is to make sure you seek a second opinion. Doctors are brilliant, talented and above average decision makers. They are also human! I love my doctors and trust them very much and believe that they have my best interest at heart. With that said, I am seeking a second opinion from the Mayo Clinic on Friday March 2^nd. Oh how I wish this was a simple clear cut black and white battle, but it's not.
"It's rather several shades of gray, " one doctor quoted.

There have been many issues about the facts of this diagnosis that are borderline and bothersome! Where one doctor says treating a slight HER2 positive issue is not worth all the consequences of possible side effects another doctor says that even a slight positive score must be treated! All of that is complicated by two different tests; one reports a negative presence and the other a positive presence. So, off to Mayo Clinic we go looking for the tie breaking vote.

The Mayo Clinic sent us a checklist of all the tests they want to review. I am completely impressed that they want to see the diagnostic tests for themselves, they also want the original tissue slides and written reports. It seems to me that they are going to take a fresh analysis approach to the case and file. I am so relieved! I consulted another breast cancer group who only wanted the written reports. I believe we’ll be in great hands when we arrive in Scottsdale AZ.

Meanwhile the Chemo treatment I was supposed to get last week, will be done this coming week. Then when Mayo determines we are on the right track, fantastic! If not we’ll change it up, but we must get started.

The local doctors office where I go continues to impress me with their financial aide. Before the insurance kicked in they guided me to call ahead and negotiate cash prices with the service providers. What would have been over $55,000 paid out in cash was reduced to about $15,000. With the generosity of friends and family, a large chunk of that has been paid. Just the other day they sent me paperwork to fill out for the Patient Advocate Foundation Co-Pay Relief Program, who will help us with the co-pay payments. They really have been remarkable with helping facilitate the assistance needed to get the proper care.

Mornings like this when I wake up and feel nervous and scared, all I have to do is think about everything I can be thankful for and it settles me. I am so thankful that I'm not alone, that I have been well taken care of, that I still open cards and letters every single day, phone calls from friends,  that my husband holds my hand even while I'm sleeping, that two of my daughters and my mother have journeyed many miles to spend some beautiful sunny days with me and another daughter and another sister are on their way. I am thankful for cancer research, for the Mayo Clinic, for the pink ribbon tattoo my niece put on her chest, for my new dammit doll, for a song my sisters dedicated to promise to love me through this, for the joy all my grand children have given me, Good morning.

Philippians 4:8
Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy--meditate on these things.

Chemo starts today. Come, pray with me for a total and complete healing.

Hello gang, so sorry I haven’t written in a long while. I’ve been trying to digest all that has happened. It’s been like drinking a cup of water from a fire hydrant. I grew up here in the desert and was told somewhere along the way that the reason we have flash floods is because the land is so dry and hard that when the rain finally falls it can not be absorbed because the land is not porous. When the rain falls it quickly runs over the hard surface of the desert landscape causing a flash flood. The Diagnosis back in December hit a hard surface. The constant pounding and sometimes dripping of reality have softened the hard ground and it’s beginning to sink in one slow day at a time.

I stare at my healing chest and recognize that this is a process. Step 1, surgery behind me. I remember that when I considered my options for surgery I couldn’t cope with more than that. I remember thinking that I couldn’t consider Chemo treatment or even research it because I was already overwhelmed with the decision of mastectomies.

It’s been several weeks of healing and preparation for Step 2, treatment. Along the way there have been a few bumps in the road. I’ve had to have the tumor slides retested because there was a conflict in results. That delayed the treatment by a week. More than the aggravation of delay was an incredible uncertainty and acceptance of a different treatment plan…. A longer treatment plan. We walked all the way around that block to have the test results remain the same and the decision to continue down the original path of treatment after all. Now, I have had time to read about the treatment plan and side affects which have hit hard ground once again. There is so little time for acceptance before treatment starts.

Later today there will be an IV drip hooked up to me and the chemicals that scout out and kill cancer cells will be on the hunt. Unfathomable that just two months ago I thought that treatment wasn’t an option because I didn’t have insurance. I need to remember that this is a gift and God came through. I believe… I believe that God and cooperation with the doctors plus my faith will find and kill every cancer cell in my body. Come, pray with me for a total and complete healing and that the side affects of this treatment will be few. With all my love, Sheri