The cause I wasn't looking for

“It is not genetic.”

That’s what I told people so many times when they asked if my mom had breast cancer. That was a popular question…”did your mom have breast cancer”? Yes, she did, but I was BRCA 1 and 2 negative. So it wasn’t genetic.

I’ve spent the last 4.5 years not at all concerned about why I developed cancer. I knew the bigger picture of why. I got cancer simply because bad things happen in this sin-cursed world. My cancer gave me amazing opportunities to share my experiences and influence others. I was never looking to learn the medical cause of my cancer.

A couple months ago my mom went in for her regular mammogram. Her intake form showed a red flag based on family cancer history, so she was offered genetic testing just to see if there were any abnormalities. She agreed to the testing, and learned that she carries a mutation on the CHEK2 gene. This mutation is associated with a high risk of breast cancer. And there was a 50/50 chance she passed it along to me.

When my mom told me about the gene mutation, it was pretty clear to me that my result would come back showing that I am a carrier. How could I not be? And so, I got my results today, and I also have the CHEK2 mutation. I have a higher likelihood of getting breast cancer (ummmm…okay, got that part done!). And there is also an increased risk of colon cancer. Great.

My conversation with my doctor was interesting. She’ll pass my results along to my oncologist, but she doesn’t think we’ll need to do anything different in terms of my ongoing breast cancer treatment because I had a bilateral mastectomy. I am so thankful I made that decision all those years ago! If I had opted for a lumpectomy, or single mastectomy, I would have some pretty big decisions to make now. I should have started colonoscopies at 40, so I'll get one once COVID is under control. And those will repeat every 3-5 years until I'm 80. 

There is a 50/50 chance that I’ve passed this mutation along to Marah. She can’t be tested until she is 18, but I am grateful that she will know her risk well before I did. Even though this mutation is “rare”, I wonder why a full genetic testing panel isn’t done for everyone? Had I known that I carried this mutation back when I was 18, would I have opted for a preventative mastectomy and then avoided cancer and chemo altogether? Who know? But at least my child will have the information she needs to make an informed decision regarding her health. And for that I am grateful.

Time to share again

HOW DO WE USE OUR SUFFERING PRACTICALLY AS A TOOL TO EVANGELIZE THE LOST AND DISCIPLE BELIEVERS AROUND US?

This was a question posted during a Q&A at my church following our sermon series in the book of Job. My answer, of course, is to write about suffering. Talk about it. Let people know that life isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but God’s grace abounds. But I haven’t been doing that lately. Not because I haven’t encountered suffering, but more because so much of my writing focused on cancer. And I don’t currently have cancer. I do see my oncologist this week for my semi-annual boob-poke, and that’s about all I have going on with cancer.

I’ve had two people in the last two weeks mention my blog to me. One person told me I am a good writer; I had no idea he had read my blog. Another person let me know that she enjoys my word choices. I have had blog posts that have lived only in my head, never having the opportunity to make it out. But now it feels like it is time to share again.

The last year has been rough on my family. There is an issue in my extended family that has been forefront in all our lives, with an undercurrent of sadness and extreme depression. I don’t talk about this ongoing issue because it is truly exhausting, and it isn’t my story to tell. Just know that we have been dealing with it, nearly every day, for almost a year.

…Should we accept only good from God and not adversity?... Job 1:10

God continues to work in our lives, and we praise him as we are presented with opportunities to glorify him. Last summer Troy and I had planned a family vacation to South Dakota. A couple months before the vacation, we had a nearly maxed out credit card and $1,500 of unpaid medical bills. We made the tough decision to cancel the trip because we realized we just couldn’t afford to go. It was a tough call to make, and for me, embarrassing to admit that we didn’t have the resources to make the trip happen.

Instead of going to South Dakota, we decided to visit Troy’s family. We spent a few days in Freeport, IL, with his dad, stepmom, and siblings. We then traveled to Madison, WI, to visit his cousin and family. It was a delightful trip. And just a month after our visit, Troy’s dad and stepmom were killed in a horrific motorcycle accident.

…a person’s days are determined and the number of his months depends on you … Job 14:5

I remember Troy’s phone call to tell me the news. I was getting Marah ready for bed, and he was out with friends after his weekly golf outing. I couldn’t understand what he was telling me. Both of them? What?

We were just there.

Part of what makes the loss of Bill and Cindy so tragic is that Troy had only reconnected with his father in the last few years. To make a long story short, Troy was successfully building new relationships with his father and newly found siblings. Time was such a gift. And we praise God for our unfortunate financial situation of last summer. It gave us family memories that are so cherished now.

Suffering doesn’t have to be cancer. It can be financial struggles. Infertility. Loss. Suffering is an inevitable part of our sin-filled world, but it is also an opportunity. A beautiful opportunity to evangelize the lost and disciple believers around us.

But I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the end he will stand on the dust. Even after my skin has been destroyed, yet I will see God in my flesh. I will see him myself; my eyes will look at him, and not as a stranger. My heart longs within me. Job 19:25-27

Anew

But this I call to mind,

And therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;

His mercies never come to an end;

They are new every morning;

Great is your faithfulness.

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,

“therefore I will hope in him.”

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,

To the soul who seeks him.

Lamentations 3:21-25

I recently decided that I would be done with cancer. I resigned my volunteer position with Can Do Cancer, and I turned down at least three speaking engagements regarding cancer. Cancer was getting to be too much, and I needed a break. In order to continue my healing, I needed to stop talking about it and stop thinking about it.

But then, the text came. I was asked to prayerfully consider serving on a panel for the ANEW Conference, which is my church’s women’s conference. The panel, titled “Great Expectations”, was to focus on our responses to circumstances that threaten to derail our dreams. My response: of course I’ll help.  Because it was for church, and I love the women there, I didn’t dream of turning it down.

The conference was yesterday, and I am thrilled with how everything came together. I was on the planning team, so watching the event from infancy to fruition was very satisfying.  The panel, however, was especially good for my soul. There were five of us, all with different trials we went through. As I was sharing my experience, I realized once again that my story does still matter. As much as I want to forget cancer sometimes, sharing my struggle and the hope I found in my faith is so important.

As the five of us were talking, we were asked to talk about the hardest aspects of dealing with our trials. I was the first to talk (not surprisingly), and I shared that I struggle with fears of recurrence as well as survivor’s guilt. Why is it that I made it to this side of cancer when so many others do not? Then, the woman next to me shared that she struggles with guilt as well. Why has she overcome infertility and so many others have not? And then the next woman had a similar response. Why was she able to bring her baby home from the NICU when so many others never do?  As we shared our collective feelings of occasional guilt, I came to an important conclusion. I should never question God’s grace. God carried me through cancer and brought me to this side, and I need to continue to share what He did. Because this whole cancer thing really isn’t about me; it is about God’s glory.

So, in the end, I’m still going to turn down opportunities to speak. Unless it is an opportunity to share about God. Then, that’s clearly a different story.

Christmas

Christmas is upon us, and I wonder what happened to fall. Work trips to Utah and California, colder than usual weather at home, and lots of activities to keep the family busy. As Christmas approaches I always feel a little sad. We celebrate God sending Jesus to this earth to be our savior, but when I think of this precious baby who is going to die a terrible death, how can I not feel sad? I’ve always wondered if others feel this way at all. Am I weird? Am I not putting enough focus on the glory of the cross? Then, this past Sunday at church, we sang A Communion Hymn for Christmas and it was so beautiful:

Gathered ‘round Your table on this holy eve

Viewing Bethlehem’s stable we rejoice and grieve

Joy to see you lying in your manger bed

Weep to see You dying in our sinful stead

Yes! That song just nailed it for me. Don’t get me wrong, I do love Christmas. I hate decorating for it, because home decorating is just extra work when I could be reading or sleeping or watching HGTV or catching up on Survivor or doing anything else. But, I am one of those people who will gladly listen to Christmas music year-round. Secular Christmas music is just the absolute worst (unless it is Mariah Carey, and she gets a pass because, well, it is Mariah). But if I want to celebrate the birth of Christ in July I am going to sign out loud.

In other things church… I had the pleasure of working with a fabulous group of ladies to host a lovely women’s Christmas brunch last weekend. I meet with a small group of women every other Thursday night to dig into the upcoming Sunday’s scripture passage. This is has proven to be a fabulous time of fellowship, and we have fun seeing if our applications will match what is discussed in the sermon. I continue to serve as a scripture reader every few months, and I am no longer nervous when I step on stage. I am currently reading Pontius Pilate by Paul Maier and it is a fascinating read. Last week I memorized Psalm 100 which was certainly not easy for me but I absolutely love what verse three says:

Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

My family will be working through an Advent book that our church put together, and my ultimate hope for this season is to keep our focus on Christ. I’m looking forward to our Christmas Eve service, and would love to have any local friends join me (LH, I’m talking about you!). And, finally, I hope everyone has a happy Christmas season!

Pinktober

Happy Pinktober everyone! The time of year where people slap pink ribbons on everything in hopes of bringing awareness to breast cancer. When we get to see cute little NFL cheerleaders with their perfectly perky boobs wear pink ribbons that perfectly match the socks of the football players. Breast cancer isn’t cute, though. It isn’t fun. It isn’t little pink trinkets or pink tutus or pink tiaras. It is a disease. It is breast amputation and chemotherapy and radiation and reconstruction. It is hair loss, sickness, pain, and a lifetime of treatment.

Back in October 2015 I experienced Pinktober as a chemotherapy patient, and I was mad. I hated everything pink. I hated that people were making money off my disease. And I still hate that aspect of breast cancer awareness month. But, what if? What if that dumb pink ribbon actually makes a woman stop to check her boobs? What if someone finally schedules that mammogram? Then all the pink would be worth it, to save a life.

So, this October, I’m in a different place. I’m no longer angry with all the pink. I am saddened and absolutely aware that attention needs to be given to all cancers. I’m frustrated when breast cancer is treated lightly, and I’m utterly amazed that so many of my friends are not paying attention to their breast health. This year I’ll wear a little pink every day. And I’ll hope that it makes a difference.

Blessed are those who mourn

Today I attended a Celebration of Life service for a dear friend’s mother who passed away after her second fight against cancer. Her faith was strong and her time had come. Being a Christian and truly understanding the gospel gives so much hope during these times of sadness and suffering. The Bible is rich in providing this hope. As much as I hate to pull out just a few verses, because let’s be honest, the whole Bible is amazing, here are a few that were running through my head this morning:

• ·        For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels or rulers, not things present nor things to come, nor power, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.  Romans 8:38-39
•          “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.  1 Corinthians 15:55-57
• ·         Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Matthew 5:4

I’m currently working on memorizing the beatitudes (see above, that was from memory, yay!). Our Sunday School teacher encourages us to memorize scripture, and for that I am grateful. Memorization is difficult for me, with my lasting chemo brain and tamoxifen that I swear makes me slightly stupid. But it is proving to be wonderful to have this reservoir of scripture in my mind.  

And so, this afternoon, I’ll work on some more memorizing. I’m enjoying the beautiful day, despite my cat bringing me a dead chipmunk and Troy isn’t home to deal with it (I covered it with a bucket, poor little evil destructive critter that it was). And, most of all, I will praise God for my friend’s mom, her life well-lived, and the promise of eternity.

And so I'll keep talking

Hello, friends. It has been quite some time since I have written. Well, strike that. It has been a while since I've published anything. But this time of the year cancer seems to come to the forefront, and this year it is screaming at me. Memories of my own diagnosis and treatment, and too many friends struggling and dying from the disease.

I don’t think God brought me through cancer to be quiet about it. Being quiet would be so easy, though. I could just let it fade away into the distance and only think about it during those pesky doctor’s appointments when they poke and prod at my chest and then tell me to come back again in a few months. Oh, how tempting that is! But what good is being a survivor if I don’t provide encouragement to others who are suffering? My outcome, so far, has been the best possible. I hate that it isn’t the case for too many people. As long as people are being diagnosed with cancer and dying from cancer, I need to keep talking.

Sunday’s sermon brought this home for me. We’ve been in John for most of the last year, and the last couple weeks we’ve been learning about the blind man in John 9. I remember back when I was diagnosed, a very foolish man told my brother that I was cursed with cancer because of unrepentant sin in my life. For anyone feeling that way, please remember John 9:3: “Jesus answered, ‘It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him’.” After Jesus gave the blind man his sight, the man went and proclaimed what Jesus did for him. I need to continue to do the same. God showed up in my cancer in so many places. I must keep this part of my life open so that others can see the glory of God.

Sometimes it wasn’t easy, though. There were days when I was so lonely, so sick, and so frustrated that I wondered why God would put anyone through cancer. It was hard to see God’s glory when I was so chemo-affected that I couldn’t even write my own name. But in the midst of that suffering, I continued to remember that God is sovereign. He does everything for his glory. We can’t focus on the why, but must look at the purpose (yep, I’m totally taking this from Sunday’s sermon; you can watch it online.)

So, what’s next? I’ll continue to come alongside cancer patients. I’ll share my story so others dealing with all kinds of suffering can see God’s glory. I’ll keep talking. If you’re tired of hearing about my cancer, tough luck. My story isn’t going away.

Happy chemoversary to me!

Two years have passed since my last chemo treatment.  I’ve spent quite a bit of time thinking about how I wanted to “celebrate” this day. It didn’t feel right, though, celebrating. Not when there are so many people dying of cancer, being diagnosed with disease, and going through long-term sicknesses with no end in sight. What right do I have to dance and be happy when so many others are suffering?  Wait…that’s idiotic. Let’s take the focus of my cancer experience off me, and turn it to where it belongs.  I should brag about what God’s done in my life (that’s been a theme in our current sermon series). And not just what happened two years ago, but what he does every day.  Being quiet isn’t an option. And sharing is important.

God’s work in my life has been substantial over the last two years. During cancer treatment I learned to rely on him through my suffering, and in the end my suffering brought me closer to him. As chemo ended I started to feel closer to some of the people in my church, but I wanted more. I remember chatting with a church friend about not feeling as connected as I wanted, and she got me in touch the ladies’ ministry team. I quickly went from being the person who said that I would rather be shot than participate in ladies’ events to being the one to help plan them. Never would I have thought that I would attend the ladies’ retreat; sharing a hotel room (and bed!) with other people is definitely not something I enjoy. But my longing to be with other believers trumped my discomfort. I went from feeling a little like a stranger at church to feeling like I belong (despite only having one kid in a church full of big families!). I even read scripture during church services on occasion. And sometimes I mess up terribly in front of the entire congregation, but at that I simply smile and am grateful that I even am able to stand in front of everyone at all. God has taken introverted, awkward me and has given me wonderful opportunities to grow.

A cancer recurrence is in the back of my mind quite a bit of the time. If it comes back I know I’ll be fine, but if I’m honest it is something I really, really don’t want to go through again. A few weeks ago I had to have another endometrial biopsy and it was SO painful. As I lay there on the table afterward, pretty sure I was going to vomit on the floor, I felt a little sorry for myself. Why do I have to be on this dumb medication that causes dumb side effects that lead to painful biopsies? I know that it is a small price to pay to keep the cancer from coming back, but sometimes it is frustrating. I was complaining about my situation on one of my cancer Facebook groups, and another survivor and dear friend reached out. She is a believer, and I trust her. We had coffee, and discussed ways to help my body heal. I am hopeful for improved health going forward.

And so, here I am, two years later. I took the day off work. I have no real plans to celebrate, but I do intend to spend the day doing only things that I enjoy. I will read, and take naps, and drink tea. I’m going to make some food for a sick friend. I have a house project I want to work on. I’ll think a little about this day two years ago, but it feels so far away. And that’s a good thing.

All that church!

Two blog posts in a week! What's going on here?! Last week was about cancer, so this week we're going to talk about Jesus. Yippee! I was recently invited to join a women's Bible study, and I was super jazzed about it. I told a friend at work about it, and her response was something like this: "Wait, you go to church Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, and now Thursday night? That's a lot of church!" But, really, is it? 

Here's what I'm doing. If any of this sounds interesting my local friends are welcome to join me. Sunday mornings is my Young Families class where we are always reading a book (currently, Radical: Taking Back Your Faith From The American Dream by David Platt) and diving into some great content. Right now, we are learning about trusting the Bible. What about all the variations in text, the number of manuscripts, and all the people who would have us not trust the Bible as the inerrant word of God? And then there is the church service and we are just starting a series going through the gospel of John. Sunday nights is our small group where we meet to connect, study, and fellowship. Wednesday night is a class that provides a fascinating exploration of covenant theology and dispensational theology. Thursdays I will be starting a Beth Moore study with a group of women and I am truly excited about developing new relationships and strengthening existing ones. And then every weekday I listen to a podcast on my way to work. Sometimes I zone out, but it helps me to think of things from a Christian worldview. 

Even with all that, I still want more. I want more time to read my Bible, to study, to connect. Why? I was listening to the sermon from last week (making up from being sick) and I got my answer:

People that have received the life crave the word of God like food. You crave and desire to be with the people of God. You crave and desire to come to church on Sunday mornings. To sit with God’s people, to sit under the preaching of the word of God.

Ah, so that’s it! Sometimes I struggle at work, being in an environment that is so secular. I went to a speaker last week, a local oncologist talking with students about how to be good providers. The talk was interesting, simply because his worldview is so incredibly different than mine. I am grateful that as I continue to mature in my own Christian worldview I can think critically about what I'm hearing and seeing in the world.   

And so, doing church things on Sunday, Wednesday and Thursday will never be enough. I will always want more. I want to learn all the things. There is so much I don't know. I dream of inheriting some massive sum of money (like all people!) and being able to stay home and not work. I think about what my day would look like. I'd get Marah off to school, go work out, and then read and study for the rest of the day. And probably take a nap, too. But, until that day, I'll keep working to find time. And, I hope I have lots of it left. 

Being sick as a survivor

Up until this weekend I hadn't been sick since chemo ended. Yes, I've felt bad from surgery and have had the random cold, but overall I have been pretty healthy. I hadn't experienced being truly sick as a cancer survivor. Now, unfortunately, I know that being sick takes on a whole new meaning when you're a survivor.

It all started last week, when Marah had strep throat. The child is a bit like a puppy, jumping on me and practically licking me all the time. So, I wasn't terribly surprised when I realized I had a fever when I was at work on Friday. No big deal, I left early to go to the doctor to get some antibiotics. I actually felt pretty decent and was eager to let the amoxicillin start doing its job. It didn't take long after the first dose for me to start feeling terrible, and I felt worse after the second dose. I am definitely allergic to amoxicillin, so the doctor prescribed me a new antibiotic and zofran. Yes, zofran. The anti-nausea drug that was my best friend during chemo. I didn't think I'd ever see that drug again, but there I was in the Walgreens parking lot ripping the package open as soon as I made it through the drive through.

Being sick has been rough, emotionally. Laying in bed, feeling awful, looking at the same maple tree start to change color that I watched in September 2015, I felt a profound sadness. Everything reminded me of cancer. I reached out to fellow survivors and learned that so many of us struggle when we are sick after cancer. Even being home alone in the middle of the day bothers me now. Most days cancer is such an afterthought but it has been forefront these last few days and I don't like it. I don't like feeling like I did when I was going through chemo. I'm on the mend now (keeping liquids and crackers down, yippee!) and hope it is a long time before sickness comes calling again.

In other news....I still love my church and the great people there, I am traveling for work again, and my hair is looking pretty wonderful. I've been lazy again and the scale tells me I need to work out. Farrell's - while I love it - is just too expensive for our budget. So, I'll find something soon otherwise none of my clothes will fit any more! And, of course, Pinktober is just around the corner but this year, so far, I'm not feeling hostile toward the pink. Maybe this year I will embrace it. Stay tuned!

August

Here we are, already into August. Summer has flown by and has included a fabulous family vacation to Galveston and a trip to Illinois to meet new family. Serious battles with Japanese beetles and powdery mildew. Lots of time in the swimming pool and at Adventureland. Bike rides, walks, and an attempt at being a runner (I think I’ve given up on that). Insanity at work every day but perseverance and appreciation for my job. A challenging and convicting sermon series in Ezra along with an attempt to read a book by a Puritan. And now, August.

August brings so many feelings. Still. Because one is never done with cancer, after all. It is still here. I still think about it daily, but not with the intensity or frequency as before. But August brings a lot of things to the surface. It was when I found my lump. Mammogram, ultrasound, biopsy, diagnosis and mastectomy. It has been almost two years. Sometimes it feels like yesterday, but most of the time it feels like ages ago.  I was recently asked if I feel physically different than before, and I don’t even remember how I felt back in early August, 2015. I think I feel mostly the same, but add in hot flashes, memory problems, hip bursitis, foot cramps, the need for additional sleep, total lack of sensation across my chest (which can be really annoying) and silicone implants. Physically, I think I am the almost same. But everything else is different, and better. I truly understand contentment. I value time and want more of it. In my weakness I was able to understand reliance on Christ and the strength that brings. And I know what matters and what does not.

Looking ahead, I think I am going to embrace the pink this October. I still get annoyed that people make gobs of money off my disease, but it is also an opportunity for me to celebrate. I survived this wretched disease and came out better because of it. 

My goofball family! 

Enough already?

Within the last couple of months my hot flashes have come back with a vengeance. They were very intense when I first started Tamoxifen, then they pretty much stopped. And now they are back. They are terribly uncomfortable but really not a huge deal. A couple weeks ago I was in a meeting at work when a hot flash came along, and my friend sitting next to me started to fan me with some paper while I continued to work on my computer. Another person in the meeting, who is extremely nice but doesn't know me well, remarked that I am "too young" for hot flashes. I responded by saying that it is because of the cancer. All she could say, over and over again, was "haven't you been through enough?" That question has been on my mind ever since she asked it. Have I been through enough already? I think of the growth that came through my cancer experience, and I don't think God is finished with me yet. Do I want to do cancer again? Not at all. But, I know that no matter what comes my way I absolutely trust my life to God. So, have I been through enough? I'm not really sure.

To change the subject completely, let's talk Farrell's. After my last surgery I was super lazy and quit working out for about six months. Last month Jen and I went back to Farrell's. Getting out of bed is harder this time around than it ever was before. I have had to miss quite a few classes because of work, which makes it tougher. But, I do love kickboxing. Today I was punching and kicking away, wearing my pink cancer survivor shirt, when Fight Song by Rachel Platten came on. That song always makes me want to cry. But today I decided to stop the tears and instead to punch harder. To kick harder. To do more sit ups as fast as possible. Because I am a survivor and a pretty tough one at that.

I'm back...not the cancer...just me

There have been a few times over the last many months when I've thought about writing again. I said good-bye to this blog, though, so it seemed a little weird to start again. But I like writing. And even though I live a boring life now (for the most part) I still get the itch to write every once in a while. So, here we go again.

First, let me bring you up to speed on all things cancer. I had a revision surgery back in September. The plastic surgeon tried to fix some puffiness on my side and at the same time did some fat transfers around my implants. I was pretty thrilled with the results of the fat transfer - I really want to do it again! - but the puffiness remains. I'm fine with it in the end, though, and I officially graduated from plastic surgery in January.

I've learned that when you're a cancer survivor small physical ailments quickly turn into a big deal. Last November I had some pain in my armpit. The oncologist ruled out cancer pretty quickly, but before I knew it I was tossed into a double-wide wheelchair and had my entire right arm ultrasounded to rule out blood clots (a potential side effect of my medication). In March I had some abdominal pain and found myself receiving a uterine biopsy and diagnostic ultrasound. It wasn't cancer, but there were areas of increased echotexture indicating possible fibroids (another side effect of my medication). And then today I had a bone scan. I've been having hip pain - pretty intense at some times - and we had to rule out the possibility of cancer finding a new home in my bones. The scan was clean, and the pain could be the result of a number of things. The oncologist's nurse told me to take it easy with kickboxing (hahahaha, that's not going to happen since kicking the bag is about my favorite thing!). All of these episodes were a little stressful, not totally fun, but a reminder that in the end, no matter the result of any test, I will be fine. God's will for my life is good, and perfect, and suffering on my part is an opportunity to glorify him. I'm so glad I have that perspective.

In my Sunday school class we are going through Psalm 139 and I have really been enjoying it. This past week we were in verses 7-12, which focus on God's omnipresence. I love verses 9-10: "If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me." Even when I'm having radioactive material being injected into my vein, when I'm more or less tied down going into a claustrophobic scanning tube, God is there. What comfort that provides!

Okay, friends, I feel better now! Yay for writing, on my deck, with my flowers and my cat and the sunshine and the birds singing.

The end of the road

I've spent a lot of time thinking about when I should end this blog. I thought about using my Vegas trip as the ending, or maybe the one-year anniversary of something (my diagnosis, first surgery, chemo, etc) as an appropriate time to end. But nothing felt right. Today, however, I woke up and knew that today would be the day.

Why today? It just feels right. I feel good, I only have one revision surgery left, and hopefully I'll go many years before cancer comes back (if it does). I've also realized that maybe my words are not as powerful or understood as well as they were before. Several weeks ago I wrote a blog post from a place of sadness, and too many times since then people have thrown my words back at me in a hurtful way. So, I'm done.

Writing was really helpful for me during the last year, and I hope I had an impact on my readers. I hope I made you think about where you are spiritually. I hope you've checked your boobs. I hope you've considered getting physically fit. I hope I've given you a little look into what it was like for me to go through cancer and the treatment.

I have had a lot of support over the last year, and I am so thankful. I am equally thankful for the people who continue to have me on their prayer lists. At church a couple weeks ago a very kind man told me that he still prays for me, that the cancer doesn't come back. I was so appreciative of that.

So, as this blog closes and I ride off into the sunset, I would like to specifically call out a few people for their continuous love and support. At the top of the list is my husband, Troy. He's done so much, from cleaning my drains post-surgery to shaving my head to dealing with all of the side effects of chemo and my moods. My parents spent countless hours taking care of me, cleaning my house, and making sure I had everything I needed. Jen Owens put together my meal train and benefit, watched me vomit in the hospital, and was a huge supporter. Angela Hall was my chemo warrior and voice of reason and perspective. Laura Eads sent me McDonald's gift cards and random texts just to keep my spirits up. And of course, I have my church community, work community, and countless other friends who were with me along this journey. So, to everyone, thank you. 

My Vegas crew - Angela, me, Ashley and Marianne

My sweet little family

Jen and I having way too much fun on the teacups at Adventureland!