3 months

I can't believe it was only 3 months ago that I began this crazy journey.   On the 17th of this month we went to the temple. It was exactly where  I wanted to be.  In the temple it's quiet,  reverent, peaceful, and everyone talks in whispers!   I needed to show my gratitude for all the incredible blessings I have received and just be in the Lord's house for a while.  I felt this intense longing to go when I was in isolation, but knew that I was very radioactive!

  It was interesting to me that I was more emotional in the temple than I was when the doctor called to tell me the good news.  I knew it was because of many different reasons.  The last time I was in the temple I had been myself, now I feel different.  I look the same on the outside adding one bonus scar but inside I feel different.   It is difficult to describe in words on a blog.  As I looked back I felt the speed and lengthiness of my journey.   It was only 3 months ago, but many of those individual days felt like years alone!    Which is why I am so grateful to be on this side of the hill.  The healing is continuing and I am getting more and more strength.

It's funny that I am so excited about the little things.  Last week when I took Eliza to dance I did what I always did, I vacuumed the van at the gas station across the street.  It might not seem like a big deal but it made me so happy!!!  I had enough strength and energy to do something above the bare minimum.    It felt so good to take care of my kids and last week I made breakfast,  lunch and dinner all week! And cleaned up the majority of them. (Thanks to my incredible hubby for always being there to pick up my slack!)

I also find myself constantly gauging my energy level.  I'll go to do something and even start it and then run out of steam.  While I am resting i'll begin to question if my meds are working, or if I am on the right dose, or if it's just because I am a mom and I have 4 kids?! :-)  One thing that has bothered me some is that I found myself 100% back in the thick of things.  Meaning I am back to running around all crazy-like! And it was almost comical that I found myself thinking back on the first few weeks after my surgery and again "almost", wishing for that time when everything else fell by the wayside. Time slowed, kids activities were skimmed down and we really just spent so much time together.   Granted it was an uber stressful time but I physically cherished every second with my hubby and kids.   Fast forward 14 weeks and i'm back to being frustrated with messes and practicing, and complaining and whining, and how to fit everything we are scheduled to do while creating happy family moments.  It's tough, ya know?!

I know it's these experiences where we learn and grow the most.  As difficult and permanent (my voice) as they may be, I am grateful.  I definitely didn't do this on my own and I am grateful for the village that cared for me and my family.  I just wish I could freeze time, make it stand still while I snuggle my kiddos and eat ice cream with my hubby.  But alas, tomorrow will come with the good and the bad.

And just because he's so cute:

Dinner anyone?

Where do you go?

Where do you go when you find out that the cancer has been dealt with and that things are on the up and up?To DISNEYLAND!   (Which might have been a little presumptuous of my energy levels!)  We just got back from a very full week at Disneyland in California.  It was good to be with family and to escape the cold for a bit.   I had to post some of my favorite pics....be prepared to be bombarded!

My three favorite boys!

We stayed in "Andy's House" and it was fabulous.  

 The crew waiting for the parade

These two little rascals kept us all on our toes!  Good thing they're too cute to be frustrated with for too long.

 During one of my many rests I saw the cutest grandpa holding his little granddaughter and I just had to take a picture.  I want to be just like him, riding around Disneyland, holding the baby!

Good 'ol Splash Mountain.  Still terrifies me!

I love them so much!

Aren't they cute?!

We ended up walking about 6-8 miles a day.  Which was WAY more than I've done in months.  Needless to say I was overly exhausted most of the time.

 Unfortunately this little munchkin didn't like anything.  No rides for him.  Parades, yes, rides, no.

And he hates wearing pants.  The only reason the diaper is on is because he's in his onesie.  It's a must in keeping things where they're supposed to be!

And this little darlin' loves to meet people.  Not only does she love to meet new people she likes to make new friends instantly.  This was taken on the Ferry when I couldn't find her for a minute.  I turned around and there she was, sitting next to these fine ladies talking their ear off.  Notice how close she is?  Yep, no boundaries here.  Also notice her cute Anna dress?  Made that myself the night before we left.  That there is a bonafied Downeast special. 

The train ride around Disneyland.

Ever notice how there has to be some sort of terror on every ride? (minus Small World of course)  We hoped on the train and I was so excited to sit down for a bit.  Then we went into a dark tunnel, which was fine until the scary music started and then the big dinosaurs were attacking each other.  Another no-go for baby Mark.

Love playhouse Disney.  They always do such a great job.  I had to snag this picture of Elsa and Anna holding hands during the show.  Just because they love each other.

My own personal Jake.  

Me and Jake riding Mater's tractor round-up.  This is when I discovered that I had a queasy stomach before I had the radioactive iodine...now the queasiness is taken to a whole new level.  No more spinning rides for me.  Or roller coasters, or anything that moves.

Me and Mark, we'll save you seats for the parade! 

One thing that kept going through my mind as I sat and people watched was how many very different people frequent Disneyland.  So many cultures and languages represented.  Having just recently gone through a kind of traumatic experience and feeling very different on the inside I wondered at how many of the happy faces had some sort of trial going on.  I know that everyone goes through many different circumstances and each one experiences even similar circumstances differently.  I envisioned a kind of text bubble on top of each person.  Explaining the problems they were going through, like:  "difficult marriage", or "heart troubles", or "trying for a baby", or "family relation problems", or "financial problems".  As I did that I truly wished it were that easy.  That we could see and help those struggling around us, buoy them up with our encouragement like so many have done for me.   Other times I wished that I had that bubble when I was pushing the stroller, or had some less than friendly people in line around us.  I wanted them to know that I was struggling and didn't have the energy to put on my mask.   

This trip was very different from our other trips to Disneyland.  We used to live in Pasadena while Josh was attending USC.  We had the best ward and group of friends we would do park, pool, and Disneyland days. Most of us had Southern California annual passes so we would frequent the park often.  I have fond memories of my two little girls in their twinner Snow White dresses standing in lines to go on the rides, or getting a big bag of Kettle corn for my treat home as the little ones always fell asleep.  It was a very magical place then.  It was a world of princesses and fireworks and youthful energy.   This time the first thing I noticed was the noise level.  Naturally that's what I notice wherever I go now.  I gauge the level of noise to see how hard I have to strain to get my voice heard.  Disneyland definitely takes the cake.  By the end of the day my throat and neck hurt so bad!  But one of the greatest blessing in my life is that my kids have adapted so well.  I clap, I snap, and 3 heads turn.  They look for me and wait to see what I need to say.  It really  helped my crowd anxiety.  I knew they would listen, unfortunately the littlest one has yet to catch on to mommy's soft voice and thinks that running away is the greatest game ever.  Well, we'll take what we can get.

Cancer was so last week....

One week ago today I went in for my full body scan.  This was the test that would tell us what stage of cancer I have and if it had spread to other areas of my body.  It was the day before Christmas eve and in order to do the scan I had to do a lovely colon prep. So they fry your insides and then make them have a party and flush everything out.  My poor innerds.

Anyway my sweet neighbor drove me up there and having nothing by mouth for a noon appointment I was a little weak as I walked into the hospital.   Exactly one week prior to this I was walking out of the same place feeling like someone just lit a fuse inside me.  Let's just say the anxiety was kicking in as I hoped and prayed the results would be good.  And I know I mentioned this before but it really is surreal.  Like I'm in a play or something and will wake up and be "myself" again.    So back to the scan...I hoist myself onto this very narrow stretcherlike bed and she asks if i'd like a blanket. Yes please! Or maybe ten! Because ever since I stopped taking my thyroid pills I have never been warm. I walk around the house with fleece pants, a sweater and scarf on!  The technician tells me to lie down and relax and I pull out my phone with my ear buds and listen to General Conference.  It was a good thing too because I had closed my eyes and was really enjoying myself when I felt the machine moving and opened my eyes and there was this flat plate inches above my nose! Seriously so close!   I hurried and closed them and had to do some quick deep breathing techniques to keep from freaking out.  And 40 min later I was done.  I sat up and walked out and went home to celebrate Christ's birth with my family, not giving another thought to the scan or what its results could bring.

After a wonderful Christmas we decided to go sledding on Friday.  We packed the kids and all their gear and went to the "bowl" in Provo.  As we arrived my cell phone rang and I told Josh it was the doctor's office,  which surprised me since his office was closed on Fridays.   So with Josh shushing the kids and me starting to panic my doctor explained that the results showed hot spots in my neck area but that was what we expected.  He then said, in his thick Indian accent, "there is nothing in your brain, lungs, or kidneys". Really? Truly? "Yes", he says.  So my stage is?
"You have stage 1 papillary carcinoma,  which the radioactive iodine will continue to kill the remaining cells that are in your neck area. I just wanted to call and tell you the good news. See you for bloodwork in 6 weeks".

Wow.  Words cannot explain the feeling I have. The gratitude for all the prayers and thoughts sent my way.  Josh and I wept with joy that I can now focus on healing and getting my strength back.

I hope I can always remember these raw feelings.  These mortal, physical, emotional pangs because they are real.  In a matter of 10 weeks I had my life change, fought a very intense battle, and lived to tell the tale.  As with all experiences I know time will blur the edges and like so many remind me I do have the good cancer and I am beginning to understand how lucky I truly am.  So goodbye cancer cells,  thanks for teaching me to value health, to hold my kids a little longer and enjoy the everyday craziness, but please don't ever come back!

Merry Christmas!

 My greatest Christmas gift of all....being with my family and feeling almost like myself. 

Our traditional candlelight fondue feast!

Earlier today I actually cleaned up the house.....first time in 2 and a half months! And I even made breakfast and lunch for the kids. It made me happy to have a little glimpse of myself again. 

Christmas eve puzzle and carols. Sad I can't join in the singing this year but just grateful for all my many, many blessings. 

I love music, especially listening to my children sing.

I went to the library this week to get some books to read and was looking in the non-fiction section seeking something inspirational.  I came across this little book, truly as if it was jumping off the shelf at me.

I picked it up and read the little blurb and it was written by Spencer Kimball following his throat surgery when one night felt like an eternity.   I knew I needed to read it. 

I loved that he got out his typewriter and sat down and wrote the book.  I have found relief through writing this blog as I deal with what I am going through.   As I read his account I could feel his pains as he paced the floor and sought to find a comfortable position to let sleep come only to be denied any relief.  I too have watched the minute hands and felt the worry about losing your voice and the panic that comes from the unknown future.  I loved his account and am so grateful he shared his story because it gave me hope. 

His last page says this:

Somehow I too have found a way back to feeling more "normal".   I find myself thinking less about the cancer and it's everlasting change in my life and more about everyday life. To echo President Kimball, "TIME has been resurrected,  peace restored, and life is good again!" 

My prayer is that not only do you have a very Merry Christmas but that you feel that peace and true joy that only our Savior brings. 

I like warm hugs

I have two beautiful daughters who absolutely love Frozen.  And we have sung and danced to the soundtrack tons of times.  But it wasn't until I had to be in an ice castle myself that I truly understood the need for human touch.  And I felt the fear that Elsa felt that because of her body she could hurt those she loved most.

Today my isolation is up, technically, but I will still stay clear of my kids until tomorrow just to play it safe.  These last few days have been extremely difficult.  No one told me that my insides would feel like they were on fire, or the horrible heartburn I would experience.  To quote Brian Regan, "all my insides feel like they want to be on my outsides".  How true that it, how true that is.  I told my friend I feel like I just ran a marathon and I'm one of those that has to crawl feet away from the finish line because I just can't take another step.   From what I've read on other's blogs they didn't have this extreme reaction that I did, so I guess I'm just one of the lucky few. =)

We all have need of human touch.  We need to feel that physical presence.  I have been around people, adults, and we have talked and laughed and watched movies, but they all had to stay 7 ft away.  I have been void of having hugs or held or snuggling with my kids.  And I think that has been so emotionally hard.   In our world today we have this technical, virtual, reality which is void of human touch.  I am so grateful for webcams because I could see and talk to my kids and still participate in their life, family prayers, reminders to not forget school work, arranging schedules and telling them how much I love and miss them.  But I couldn't touch them.  My 17 month old baby carried the phone next to his cheek and walked around the house because that was "mom".  ugh that was a rough one.  But we survived.  And tomorrow morning I get to hug and kiss them and hug and kiss them some more.  And let's face it I will hug and kiss them lots and lots.

Don't be afraid to hug someone you love to show you care, or hold your kids one second longer because we all need that physical reassurance that someone cares.   And truly hugging or shaking hands when being introduced or other physical contact is almost a lost art.  We've replaced it with smaller and smaller hand held devices.  I think of some of the movies that were made years ago projecting what the future would hold.  Flying cars and instant food and robots everywhere.  Well some of them have been not too far off the mark when I find that we are becoming the robots with all this technology right at our fingertips all day long.  Which is a blessing and a burden, because you consciously have to chose to pick it up and use it, or let it be and physically be present.

I am grateful for this isolation time because it has shown me how much we really need each other and what good a simple warm hug can do!   And since "winter's a good time to stay in and cuddle" that's exactly what I'll be doing the next few days, and that will make me one happy snowman!

i'm radioactive, radioactive. ....

I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones

Enough to make my systems blow

Welcome to the new age, to the new age

Welcome to the new age, to the new age

Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive

Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive

- Imagine Dragons

I had this song in my head this whole morning.  Well today came. Just like I knew it would.  Time passes and even if we are anticipatory for something good or something bad it will come and it will go.  

This morning I woke up, donned my supersuit,  prayed with my little family, kissed them goodbye and drove myself to the hospital.  

Is there another option of outfit when becoming radioactive?  I think not. Plus I wanted to make it fun that mom was going off to gain superpowers and fight the cancer for my kids.  It made it less scary for them and actually myself too! Plus it was way fun to have all the technicians laugh this morning while they were doing their regular job. 

It's so surreal going through this. Sometimes I feel like I'm on the outside watching it play out like a movie scene.   The radiation guy explained everything a few times, then said we're going to go onto the Hot Lab and then your pill is behind a lead case and you reach in and take it and then we'd rather you get going pretty quickly.   

Gotcha.

Game plan; get in, swallow the giant gray bomb, get out. 

And that's just what I did, and had him film it for posterity.

As I was walking out I set off every one of their nuclear alarms.  I felt like I should have a flashing light or someone with a megaphone following behind me, " stay back, she's about to blow".  But nope. I just walked out of the hospital straight to my car and got in and took a deep breath.  

I then began my drive down to Provo where my isolation begins. I am staying in my parent's basement away from the world. 

It was an interesting drive down as I began to feel the effects of my body starting to absorb things. I have a pretty vivid imagination so pictures of mini explosions going off in my stomach were flitting through my mind. Especially as I began to get warm, then warmer, then downright hot and turned the A.C. on!! (This coming from the girl that has been an icicle after going off my meds.  )

As I drove I began to feel my neck start hurting and aching, and I began to get nauseous.  It was oodles of fun. I snickered as I drove behind a biohazard truck for a good ways and thought I needed a sign on my car warning to stay away.   

I remember the day I realized as a child that there were other people on the road, filling those numerous cars, going a million different places and experiencing a multitude of joys and pains. It was a very "aha" moment for my 7 year old brain.   I actually thought about that moment today because I am pretty sure I will remember this particular car ride for the rest of my life, and I was just hoping and praying for all those around me that they might safely reach their destinations and that they might find joy on their journey. 

If anyone needs me I will be in my batcave unable to assist until Saturday.  After then, just send up the signal.   If unable to locate the batcave,  just look for the house that is glowing at night, and not from any Christmas lights..

Cheerleaders and a goodbye

No one can do it alone.  There are people who buoy us up and literally keep us afloat.  It has been an interesting journey day to day.  One I know that many people make once you are in the Cancer club.   I am so grateful for people who have truly been God's angels on earth physically stepping in to help.  And those who couldn't physically be here calling me or sending encouraging words.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

(waiting room selfie.....so tired)

This morning my husband drove me to the hospital to get my small dose of radioactive iodine to see how my body absorbs the stuff in preparation for the bomb tomorrow morning.  That was a weird feeling.  I remember driving to the hospital for each of my children's births.  There are few moments in my life that I can accurately remember feelings and details.  Each one of their unique birth stories are moments that are embossed on my heart and mind.  I enjoyed recalling them this morning as I went to go take a radioactive material that could fight my fight for me.  We joked about what superpower I'd like to have and they had this awesome sign outside the door:

(why thank you, thank you very much!)

They tell you all the precautions, you sign some papers, then he holds a little test tube up.  One that I have held a million times when I used to draw blood on my patients.  Inside it is just clear water.  No visible evidence of anything really in there.  I ask a bunch of time, "you're sure it has no taste....no smell, right?" I HATE being nauseous and he guaranteed it.   And he was right. 

It had no taste.  He squirted some more water in it after I had taken it to make sure I got it all and that was it. Weird.   We know that we can do harmful things to our bodies, and we know what we need to do to take care of our bodies.  Fad diets come and go, but for the most part eating healthy and exercising is just a standard thing to take care of ourselves.  It's a crazy twist of life when in order for be to get healthy again I have to kill these cells in my body with nuclear medicine.  I am just so grateful for the many people who studied and learned how to harness this stuff to be a cause for good.  

I have many, many conversations with myself in my head.  All day long I think about things I'm learning or things I want to remember about this experience.   If you know of anyone going through a hard time, cheer them on.  Really, truly, cheer them on.  I was explaining it to my husband in a form of something he loves.  Running.  I really haven't ever gotten to the point that I love running.  I do it because I know it's good for me and I like to get out of the house but I don't get the high that he gets.  Except for when I am running a race. (a tiny, little baby race)  If you have people cheering for me on the side running becomes something else.  It becomes fun.  It becomes dare I say, almost enjoyable.  My body is doing the exact same thing, it is putting one foot in front of the other.  The distance is the exact same (5k, MAX) the only thing that changed was the encouragement.  The art of voicing words for the benefit of someone else.  In front of our house and down our street we get a lot of runners/bikers.  My kids and I almost weekly on our comings and goings will roll down the windows and cheer on the bikers and runners.  My kids love it and we love to see the smile on the exerciser's face.  And I know how good it feels to be cheered on.  The other day I was at Harmon's and I asked the bread guy if they used iodized salt.  He said no but they did use sea salt, which was still a no-no on my diet.  He asked why and I just said that I have cancer and am awaiting treatment.  He tapped on the wood cutting board and just simply said, "Win the battle".   And that brought tears to my eyes.  

My greatest cheerleaders are my husband and children.  They see me daily fight to stay optimistic and to try to keep our lives as normal as possible.  I am so grateful that their prayers are being recorded in heaven because I want to replay them in their little voices over and over again.  No mother wants to hear their child ask a kind Heavenly Father to bless the food that it will give us health and heal mom's cancer.  Or that they might not have any nightmares that night so that mommy can sleep all through the night because she is so tired.  Or in their purest voice ask Heavenly Father to make the cancer go away so that mommy might live for a very long time until she is so old.  But I am grateful for this experience because it has taught me so much.  It has given me experience that I might know the good from the bad.  These are the tender moments that are now embossed on my heart.  I don't want to forget these.   We've explained that my prognosis is really, really good and that we are grateful we found it early and it's so treatable.   But that doesn't make the journey easy or less scary.  

With these new observations I decided that the time has come to say goodbye to Facebook.  To close my account and not really care what the world is showing me on my new's feed.  I will miss not being updated on my friends that I once knew in high school, college or other places along the way.  But I will also not be disappointed when there isn't a message or a "like" on my post.  Because that doesn't matter.  It really doesn't.  What matters in life IS life.  Real life.  Physical life.  Hugging my kids, calling a friend, and fighting my own battles.  Yes I need cheerleaders, and yes I need friends and family, but if I had none, I would still have one.  And He is the only one who can understand exactly what I'm going through cancer, cut nerve and all, and He doesn't have a Facebook account.