Revealing Grace

I cannot believe that on Monday I go in for my final chemo. I can scarcely wrap my brain around the fact that slowly, slowly, I will become "me" again.  Those pieces that have been dormant will wake up. In time, my energy will return, my eyebrows will grow back, my hair will try to find its rhythm again. Slowly, the steroid puff will leave my face and the constant fear of having to endure another treatment will subside.  When I began treatment in August, I couldn't imagine making it here.  Yet, my anxieties have not subsided with the end of chemo in my sights. I worry more about a recurrence, about what it means to be past the active part of treatment. I stay up at night fretting about my next reconstruction surgery and the permanent changes in my body, my mind, my will.  In treatment everything seems temporary. Post-treatment you have to come to terms with the fact that some things are now with you forever.  What a freaking mind-game ca...

Do you know that feeling when a page is beginning to turn? It is that feeling of the darkness shifting, the winds beginning to whisper again, and the tides of peace returning to settle in your soul. It is a feeling that the energy of the world around you is moving and perhaps (perhaps) things are about to get better. In one week I will have finished my fifth chemo. In one month I will have finished my last chemo. I never thought I would make it through this challenge. After my first session I was convinced that I would never survive the mind mess of chemo. But here we stand in November. And I am beginning to feel hope. The journey is long from over (I will have 12 more infusions in the chemo room after chemo is done, but it will just be one targeted therapy drug, no cold cap, and none of this nasty fatigue) but the hardest parts will be done. Slowly, I will regain my strength, my resolve, my connection to my body and my mind. Life will not return to normal, but wha...

Here is what it feels like to be on chemo treatments: Your once lovely and thick hair is now thin and balding like a middle-aged man. Your body is doing the opposite. Once thin and trim it is now getting thicker and bulkier from the steroids and lack of exercise due to these treatments being hard on your heart and hello, the lack of energy to do anything more than go to work and play with your dog. If that isn't enough for you, your eye is consistently twitching, your back hurts from "bone pain," you are simultaneously exhausted and wired, and your brain took a vacation and left you behind. And just for good measure, add in slowly disappearing eyebrows. It isn't fun. And it sucks because I want to date and not look like I'm slowly transitioning to a less appealing me. I want to make new friends in my city and not have to feel self-conscious about my new fashion statement, the headwrap+braid. And it sucks because I feel bad for feeling mad about this...

Last night my friend made me a pie. An apple pie. I literally did a little dance of joy when it came out of the oven. It wasn't what we thought we would be doing this weekend- eating pie and going to the State Fair. We thought we would be managing my naps and feeding me toast after another chemo, but my body decided it wasn't quite ready for that. Cancer treatment is certainly full of ups and downs.  You finally get your mind wrapped around how to balance work, chemo treatment, side effects, a dog, and remembering to shower and eat real food, and then a curve ball gets thrown in and everything seems to fly into chaos and confusion. This happened on Thursday when they told me that my white blood cell count was too low to do chemo on schedule this week.  Talk about a build up to a big let down.  I went from the appointment (in tears) to the airport to pick up my friend who had left 4 of her 6 kids to take care of me and I was flustered to say the least. I f...

This is a post I wrote and never published over a year ago, just a month or so before my husband left. I would say the message is still fitting for my current season. Enjoy this flashback! ___________________ March 2017 The other day I walked into work just like any other day. Nothing extraordinary or great had happened that morning. I had just woken up, gotten ready, and headed into work. As I said hello to my friend and coworker she exclaimed, "you look happy!" I look happy? I thought. I look happy! It had been so long since my natural countenance had been happy and I was thrilled at her observation. A few weeks later the same coworker walked over to my office (or cubicle) and said, "Hey, I just wanted you to know that you seem like your old self again and I'm really happy to have you back." Again, I was amazed that she noticed the outward healing that I was feeling inside. This friend has known me since I arrived in Arizona and has had a front row se...

I'm tired of talking about cancer. I'm tired of fighting cancer. I'm tired of this being a part of my story. But the fact is, this will always be a part of my life. There are many stages in treatment and in recovery, many milestones. But the rest of my life will forever be different than before this. I will always have to be wise about what I eat, stay in shape, always have to go to check-ups to make sure the cancer stays away. I will always be looking to markers of one year, five years, ten years cancer free. I will be looking forward to chemo being done, then my next surgery being over. I will then move to celebrate the end of year-long Herceptin infusions, then the removal of my port. Follow that with five years of hormone treatment before all of this is "over." Ooof. But. But. I will also be looking forward to celebrating one year at the job that I love. I will look forward to vacations with friends and trips around the world. I will celebrate t...

I am currently sitting on my couch drinking a cup of love. What is a cup of love, you ask? It is first comprised of Costa Rican coffee, fresh from the source. The coffee was brought to me by a volunteer at the Incarnation House youth center. I met her a few weeks ago when she dropped off some snacks. She is a flight attendant and recently had a layover in Costa Rica, so she came to the center last week with a gift. She had picked me up a bag of the most delicious coffee, knowing that chemo makes me extra tired and fatigued and I often need an extra boost.  Then you mix that coffee with some milk. But not just any milk. This is homogenized milk that you don't have to strain. Because I, in my infinite lack-of-wisdom, bought non-homogenized milk that I've had to strain for the past week. Today, I also noticed it was expired, realizing that perhaps I was drinking curdled milk. Feeling worn out, I really didn't want to drive across the street to the store. So my friend i...