Am I really living changed? I had a moment this morning when I thought, “wait…am I actually living a life that reflects what I keep writing about?” I write often about ‘being where your feet are,’ but, am I practicing this as I preach it when I also remain so connected to what was?

I had to really consider that. 

… …… ……… ………… …

And then: 

My ‘transformation of being’ started with hearing the words, “You have cancer.” Therefore, in order for me to practice living changed, I have to acknowledge what’s changing me. But it turns out that I’ve come to this conclusion before… So what made today feel more eye-opening? I think I had just left my conclusion at cancer is what is changing me. I left it with the vague haziness of a single word. And while the word ‘cancer,’ in and of itself is a Mack-truck-word, today brought some deeper clarity. 

It’s in the memories of cancer….and the lessons within them…

Those harrowed memories deep in the black unknown of diagnosis – the waiting and the paralyzing fear that forced a white flag as control is impossible, the whether-you-like-it-or-not, cross-your-fingers-all-you-want, this-is-happening-with-or-without-your-participation kind of surrender…

Those wretched memories in trudging through agonizing step after agonizing step in treatment – the dread, the hope, the barely-able-to-see-past-5-minutes, the extreme weakness, the nearness of God in the dark wholeness of my suffering, the resilience of patience as the end seemed unreachable…

Those anguished memories in being cut open and sewn back up time and time and time again – the complete but seemingly impossible trust, the proximity to heaven in the opening of my eyes, the everything-is-temporary, the scars that tell a tragically beautiful story, the foreverness of stored trauma, the managing of expectations, the disappointment of hindsight but the gratitude of transformation…

As I step daily into the capricious wilderness of survivorship, wanting to live changed, wanting to honor the transformation that came with such astronomical cost, wanting to honor what is lost for what is gained, I must choose the memories. I must choose to live in the duality of the-what-changed-me and the-living-changed…

*Post 890

Brave Has A Whole New Meaning :: 9/11/17 :: Post 11

Today has been so hard. My everything hurts. My head, my heart, my soul, my stomach, my chest (or the holes where they used to be anyways)… I’ve cried a lot today. My eyes hurt… 

I’ve had a lot of really wonderful people around me – checking in, texting, sending care packages… I’ve had a lot of people tell me how proud they are of me, how brave I am…

Brave…

I guess I didn’t realize all of what I thought that word meant until this…

I didn’t realize being brave meant being awake to face the reality. I didn’t realize being brave meant to fall asleep when I’m tired even if that means someone is here to visit. I knew there was strength in emotion but I didn’t really think it was brave to let the tears flow. I was told I was brave to look and see what wasn’t there anymore so soon after surgery. I didn’t realize being brave meant to get up and walk a short little circle around the house when all I want to do is sleep away this bad dream. Brave, I guess, means to wake up and realize it’s not a bad dream and to sit quietly in the thoughts. 

I didn’t realize bravery was taking medications to take away the physical pain. Or get my drains emptied by my husband. Or have him rub arnica on my bruised and battered and scarred body. Bravery is vulnerability, I guess.

I didn’t realize that bravery meant having a new colleague and friend who is a nurse come and check on my naked body. To desperately want her here to tell me I’m okay even though when this is all said and done, we will be peers at the workplace again. I don’t care. I just want her friendship and love during this time…and her “you’re doing so well and this is all normal” validations. I suppose bravery is having another friend who has been through this to come by, hold my hand while I cry, tell me that I look beautiful and look at my scars to compare stories and tell me that I’ll be okay…someday. 

Bravery, it seems is being needy and asking for help when all I want to do is get up and be self-sufficient…it’s asking for and getting foot massages from my momma. Bravery is drinking broth through a straw because it is too hard to eat soup the normal way…and having my husband put a napkin in my shirt so I don’t spill. Being brave is getting up to go to the bathroom. Bravery is taking away all the pretend, all of the masks, all of the best-foot-forward and just being.

I guess bravery means to let others in to see me in my weakness, in my neediness, in my sorrow, in my fear, in my vulnerabilities. 

I’m not feeling brave enough to fully accept this, still. I suppose that will come in time…

A Strange and Scary Deja Vu :: 9/11/18 :: Post 362

I kinda don’t know where to start….

1. House stuff is insane. My husband is incredible. My mom is incredible. The crew we have had to help us along the way…so grateful for everyone. But this process is a beast. And we are beyond tired.

2. Each stage of parenting has certainly had it’s challenges but holy crap, two teenage kids in after school sports, a 10 year old also participating in life, raising daughters in this crazy world and two parents with full time jobs……..wow. 

3. Cancer.

……………………………………..Cancer…….

I had my appointment today with my new gynecological oncologist. Felt like throwing up the entire way there. My mind went in a million directions. My gut, a mess. Unsure, frustrated, angry, scared, sad, hopeful. Met 7 new people to add to my list… and it was a fine appointment. I’m thankful yet another expert in my care team comes highly recommended and is a great doctor. Lucky me he’s a teaching doctor…and had two young men as his med students. (*eye roll) “Is it okay if students listen in on our conversation?” ….Sure. So far I’m not pants-less, and that doesn’t appear to be part of this appointment, so whatever. Then I had to take them all (doc, students and a nurse) through my last year and explain why I was there. They listened….and it was nice to be heard. And validated. Then I saw the nurse take out a sheet. Lame. Pants-less IS a part of this appointment. Lovely. “Is it okay for my students to watch the exam for learning purposes?” ….Are you kidding me? Of course he has students on the day I’m there. Of course I get to be in stirrups and legs wide open for an audience. Granted, I know I have the freedom so say no, but what do I have to be shy about anymore. I’ve been naked and stripped down for so many people….with some of the most difficult conversations and things to be told about my body….assessed for fatness….naked pictures taken for the insurance company….nurses and doctors and techs all up in my business….nothing is sacred and mine anymore. So I might as well participate in advancing medical science. They’ve kept me alive and well, I suppose it’s the least I can do. That said, all of my intimate womanhood, that is supposed to be for the bedroom only, will, at the end of all of this, be completely removed from my body and will have been manhandled by more people than I’d care to acknowledge. That’s hard.

Anyways, the biopsy from last week came back negative but I have some sizeable complex cysts on both of my ovaries which may end up being nothing but we will need final pathology to come back before we feel confident. He’s hopeful but obviously cannot be certain. It could just be my body trying to figure itself out after chemo. It could be something more significant. But this doctor isn’t messing around. He said this information makes surgery far less “elective” and far more necessary…and it necessitates it to be soon. I like the way this guy works.

Me: “Well, okay then. Let’s get this done. When’s your soonest availability?”
Dr. Bigsby: “Next Wednesday.”
Me: “Okay. What time and where.”
Dr. Bigsby: “2:30. SkyRidge”
Me: “See you there.”

Dr. Basche was right – this guy works fast and efficient. And I’ll know the morning after surgery some what we are dealing with as they will send yet more body parts to an immediate pathology lab to determine surgical next steps while I’m under. And then full reports a week later. This is all a strange and scary deja vu. So, while my time there was exhausting, emotional, full of more intense vulnerabilities and things are still left uncertain, I have a surgery date and time. And for that, I am grateful. One more thing I can mark off of this dreadful list. And one more thing that will soon be behind me.

Relief :: 9/11/19 :: Post 727

In the difficult waves, I sometimes get to experience moments of relief from the hard. Moments where it doesn’t feel like I have to try and keep my head above water as the waves keep crashing, where I don’t have to doggy-paddle and fight the weight of the water just to barely keep from drowning. Moments where the intensity of the waves subside and become a little lighter, you know, the ones that you can just relax and float in and feel your body roll up and down as the waves gently roll into shore. There is a peace there. A calm. A freedom from the arduous work it is to navigate rough waters.

It is important to acknowledge that there is purpose in both. Hard happens. So does relief.

Today was my relief. As extra hard as the last few days have been, today I floated. Weightless and free from the arduous work of my story’s rough waters. And I’m grateful for that gift of relief…however long or brief.