Husband,
When everything fails, you do not.
When everything falls apart, you stay.
When everything hurts, you help.
When everything seems hopeless, you bring light.
When everything feels too overwhelming, you lift me up.
I love you. I am grateful for you. Our girls are strong, confident, sassy and world-changers because you love them and you are committed to them. We’ve lived some serious you-know-what and still, you selflessly give. Still you show up. Still you share yourself. Still you love. More today than yesterday, even. Thank you from the innermost core of who I am that you are HERE with me living this gloriously amazing and treacherously difficult life. I am who I am because you love me. I am who I am because you stand by my side minute after minute. And your girls – they are who they are because of who you are. YOU are our greatest gift.
Dad,
You didn’t have to choose me. You chose Mom, sure, but you didn’t actually have to choose me (some step-dads don’t). And the kicker – you continue to do so. Every day.
You being in my life gave me a security that only a dad can. You getting me out in that greenbelt and throwing a frisbee with me gave me the confidence that was hidden deep under hurt and trauma. You coaching me in basketball, taking me to the gym to work on volleyball, sitting in a grocery cart in a sandpit so I had to jump over you gave me an amazing foundation of grit and fortitude, such that we’d have no idea WHY I’d need it. You praying each and every day for me gave me a chance. You loving me by choice gave me an example for which not to compromise in my own spouse. Your grace, your integrity, your guidance, YOU are my rock.
One for the Books :: June 20, 2018
SkyRidge, 7:45 – 10. Pre-admission for surgery. They spelled my name wrong. That was annoying. But glad we caught it. Lots of paperwork. TONS of questions. Port access and blood draw. EKG. Contrast CT scan with iodine. Sweet Nurse Mary. A long walk all around SkyRidge. Met 9 new wonderful medical staff. Pre-admissions, DONE.
10-11. Driving from SkyRidge to Rose (with a pit-stop at Starbucks…Since I had to fast for my pre-admissions appointment, I was starving and wanted my coffee!)
Rose, 11-12:15. Acupuncture with Joelle. Who is magic. Needles in my pinkie, middle finger and index finger that were “zingers” as Joelle called them. Needles in my head, ears, other hand, legs, torso and sides. 25 of them. But they are magic. And I drifted off into a blissful quiet space. Post-chemo acupuncture, DONE.
12:15-12:45. Driving from Rose to Park Meadows Cosmetic Surgery.
Park Meadows Cosmetic Surgery, 12:45-2. Pre-surgery consent appointment. Crazy Nurse Sue (who calls teeth “chompers”) and talks a hundred miles a minute and who is so random it’s hard to follow where she’s going. LOTS more questions. LOTS to consent to. LOTS of information to take in. Naked pictures taken while Nurse Sue talked all about how she refuses to kill spiders and snakes and such, therefore delaying the taking of said pictures and prolonging the time that I am standing naked (literally naked) in front of her and a student nurse and also commenting on how I did, in fact, pack on some good pounds to make boobs out of. And then to top it off, my surgeon coming in and having me stand naked in front of him while he squeezed the fat and tissue he’ll cut off and “change the geographical location of” to make boobs and also commenting on how I’ve got some good fat for him to use on my tummy and thighs. Thank God he talks super fast… That is a special kind of vulnerability. But, pre-surgery appointment with my surgeon, DONE.
2-2:40. Driving from Highlands Ranch back home.
3:30-3:45. Driving my Cate to volleyball. Hearing her cry and share her worries and concerns for this upcoming surgery. Validating her fears and sharing my own while encouraging her with the peace that I am also feeling so that she can go play volleyball without being too heavy hearted.
3:45-4. Driving back home. Behind the slowest Semi Student Driver. Replaying my day in my head.
Home. For the rest of the night. Feeling guilty for not going to my Haleigh’s softball games. But I’m not feeling well. And I’m fried. And today was hard. And my emotions are all over the place. And I’m vulnerable and have been both figuratively and literally naked and bare. (And just as I typed that, I got a text back from my sweet Haleigh saying that she understood and loves me the most.)
Thank you, Lord. Thank you for keeping me safe while driving so many miles. Thank you for sweet moments with my girls. Thank you for an amazing team of surgeons that are going to put me back together. Thank you that we are only 5 days away and that we’ve gotten this far. Thank you that vulnerability is also strength.
Lord, please get us to Monday.
Changed :: June 20, 2019
The hot flashes are beastly. The stomach unpredictability is rough. The arthritis is dreadful. The headaches are sucky. The depression is hard to fight.
Survivorship is a struggle.
I think people think I’m all better but I’m not.
And I think people think I should be all better but because I’m not, they have a hard time understanding that I’m not. And I think people aren’t okay with me not being better.
In order for me to live changed and make cancer matter, I have to acknowledge that it is my story and it has changed me. I won’t be ‘the Amber I once was’ and guess what, I don’t want to be that Amber.
I’m not all better. And I have a long road ahead of me. And cancer will always walk with me wherever I go…. I’m not all better, but I am changed.
No post for 6/20/20