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!
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
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.
Friday, December 19, 2014
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!
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!
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
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.
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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..
Monday, December 15, 2014
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.
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:
(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.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
maybe not the best idea we've ever had
Cancer was not in the plans. I specifically scheduled my surgery before the holidays so I could recover and be on my merry way. I had also previously scheduled to have our kitchen cabinets redone in white and I was going to redo the countertop all in September before my surgery. But then the mold and Joshua's surgery put us back a bit. So I thought no problem we'll just have the guy come out the week after I have half my thyroid out and then I'll have a new kitchen to look forward to. Plans. Ugh. Well the man we paid money to come do it kept giving us excuse after excuse why he couldn't come. After a month of it I finally told him, "if we're laying all our cards on the table I have CANCER and would just really like a white kitchen!" So Josh had to get tough and supposedly he is coming in January to finish them. Anyway back to the countertop paint box that has been on my counter since August. Since I have been off my meds and on this uber fun low iodine diet for almost two weeks I have been sluggish and just really down. It's like I'm stuck in a giant mud puddle and walking or lifting my arms take extra, extra effort. Even my brain is filled with mud and I try to search for words or thoughts only to come up with muddy empty hands. Enter my prince in shining safety goggles. He got up on Saturday and asked how I felt and I was feeling not too bad. He said good, because you need a distraction, let's paint the counter today. Well if he was on board then I knew he could muscle all the prep work and I could do the fancy painting and we could get it done! After all the tutorial video said new counters in a day! And I watched her prep, prime, paint and top coats all in just 15 min! Piece of cake. Here's what we had to work with:
See that not so pretty strip of wood along the counter? There were places it was a big divit and needed to be filled. My husband is a genius and got some great stuff called Bond-o. Great name. For the spy or a really unimaginative creator. But it does exactly that. Bonds things together, smells like noxious fumes straight up, and sets up like a speeding bullet. You seriosuly have seconds to get it how you want it to look or you're in trouble. While Josh is doing this i'm scrubbing the counters and cleaning things to get them ready for the primer. Josh then asks, "since we're doing this why don't you go pick out a new sink and some other things we need at the hardware store". Um, yes. So before he could realize what he said I went to Home depot. I sat in the sink isle and stared at all the options and picked my favorite and had a nice gentleman put it in my car for me. I was exhausted and we hadn't started painting yet! I get my new beautt home and we size up the sink and it won't fit, because it's in a tight corner. And before I can even start to be upset Josh says,"no worries, it will work fine." And he gets out his hand saw and starts cutting things.
Now we are into mid afternoon and the planned Farmington Santa outing got nixed and all the counters I had scrubbed had sawdust everywhere! Everywhere I tell you! So we start again prepping. I wash everything down and fill in some more cracks we find. We had the ward party at 5pm and Josh had to be there because he was leading the music. I stayed home because it's really hard to be around people eating food you can't. Just a small form of torture. (What I would do for a glass of milk right now.....) Anyway by the time he got home and we put the kids to bed it was time to prime. That's when we read that the primer has to wait 8 hours to dry before you can start painting it. Of course it does.
Now another juicy detail to this story is that this is usually the weekend I do the kids photo books on Snapfish. When we started this process I just figured I would do them during the drying times. So while Josh primed I scrapbooked our memories. That was wonderful and hard at the same time. I have amazing, wonderful, beautiful children. I love documenting our year but it was really hard and at times physically painful to see the old mom. The before mom. I thought sometimes to the picture yes you were stressed that day about pictures or schedules or other hard mommy things but you had a VOICE!!!! You could go into public and not have an anxiety attack every 3 minutes. You were carefree in the fact you didn't have cancer and the stigma and fears that go along with it. So as I went through picture after picture I decided that next year when I do the photo books I promised myself that I would have a year filled with pictures of a happy and loving mom. Filling my kids books with memories of good times. That although their mom is defective she is still the same mom she was before. (Joshua jr explains it by cupping his hands together back and forth saying this is how my throat works....and this is how my mom's throat works, and keeps one hand still while moving the other.) Josh and I went to bed that night exhausted but had the kitchen primed, a hole for the sink, dishes in the bathroom, and no oven. Cue murphy.
Sunday morning we ate in the living room and I kept scrapbooking away. We had decided it was a day of rest and we just pretended were camping. Then the mudroom started flooding because our water heater was leaking. So all the mudroom contents came into our little dining room and I said we had to move to higher ground and we put the kids in the car and headed to Provo. Grandma's house. My sweet, sweet husband packed me food to take down and started to make me a steak when he realized the salt he had used was iodized and looked so defeated. He was so upset. I told him not to worry and locked myself in another room and kept on scrapbooking and enjoyed my bland salad. We drove back home late dropping joshua off at cousins. Now the coupon ended midnight on Sunday so at 11:58 I had finished and clicked order now. That's when one whole book I had been working on in Provo deleted. Lost in the vast emptiness of internet never to be recovered. And I wept. Wept and cried and yelled (only I knew it was yelling), and carried my sore carcass up the stairs to sob into my pillow.
Monday morning came like it always does and I had a lovely 8:30 doctor visit that is so, so, so horrible it's funny and if we are friends ask me and I will tell you and we can laugh together but it isn't something I can readily post.
After the good times that morning I was in a lot of pain but bound and determined that no other catastrophe could stop me from slapping some paint on those countertops and claiming my kitchen back. So I painted, and I sponged, and blotted, and poured and I mixed and I loved it. I had a vision and I knew what I wanted it to look like. I could see the end result in my mind I just had to have the strength to get there. And layer after layer I began to see what it was becoming. It was becoming something beautiful. And as I would stand back to see the big picture I began to feel like that countertop. I began to compare my imperfections to things that weren't given to me to defeat me, but to make me beautiful. That the filling, and the sanding, and yes even the sawing and cutting was part of a bigger picture that I couldn't see. We were made to go through life and trials. It's in our blood and it's in our spirit. Our glorious Heavenly Father made our bodies be able to heal scratch after scratch. We are not given a limit of scratches or a limit of how many bruises we can have. Now my body cannot by itself heal this cancer, and my cut nerve may or may never heal. But throughout this all I can know joy and I can have hope and I can create.
Romans 8: 18 "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us"
I just read this this morning and it spoke to my soul. Straight from the bible. (But in my mind I hear it in the voice of Andy Griffith from Mayberry) And knew this post had to be shared. Glory. It's there in all of us and one day it will even be in my kitchen. Yesterday proved to be a harder day as I learned you can make mac and cheese in a rice cooker and grilled steak and veggies in my George foreman on my dryer and last night we were ready to install the sink. (Because we read again after starting this whole process that even if you are done with all the top coats that your husband stayed up all night doing you have to wait 24 hrs before you can use the counters.) Midnight found us once again but alas, the sink has won.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Ring my bell
This is my dinner bell. I love it! Thank you amazon for delivering it and thank you hubby for installing it. I ring it when I want the kids to come into the kitchen and do you know what? It works every time! Seriosuly, why did I have to get cancer to get one of these? No more yelling up the stairs or outside. I open the window if they are outside and they can hear it. It's wonderful.
Other ways that I have adapted is that I now am the proud owner of a nautical whistle.
Thank you Baron Von Trapp for showing me the many useful calls you can use to summon your children. Although I have only managed the one long, one loud call we are working on it. Grace thinks it fun and while I wear it when we are out and about as an emergency tool to bring me comfort and decrease anxiety, little girl #2 thinks it fun to walk away just far enough to try to get me to use it!! Ugh. And again thank you Amazon. Seriously is there no end to your treasures?! I loved when I got it, it came in a wooden box with some history about why they were used. Captains used these whistles to give calls to their sailors on the water because their voice wouldn't carry over the wind and waves. Hmmm. I totally get it. My voice gets lost in a crowded room with just the waves of other's voices.
I have been more frustrated lately with my voice. I think it's in part due to Christmas. I love to sing and didn't think twice when Dean came on the radio and just sang along. Not so much anymore. I try to just listen to the music and not get annoyed but it. is. so. hard. My son was singing Frosty and forgot a bunch of the words and asked me to sing with him. I gave it my all but my middle range is gone. It sounds raspy and pretty much awful. I hate it. On the other hand my animal sounds are amazing. While reading The Big Red Barn I can moo, and whiny with the best of them. My youngest loves it. So while O Holy Night might not be in the repertoire, don't be surprised if we come caroling and it's Old MacDonald instead.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
A very fortunate soul.
All I want from you is.......your voice.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VyFVG4VfPmg
(Disney's The Little Mermaid, one of my favorite movies as a kid)
I hear this song in my mind a few times a day. And some of the lyrics hit home, "..in pain, in need." And others, "Just a token really. A trifle.....it won't cost much, just your voice." And let's be grateful that I still have, "my looks, my pretty face, and don't underestimate the importance of body language."
Last week we were having dinner and Eliza had lost her voice due to a cold. Josh and I were trying to get her to eat and told her it would help her get better faster. She looked at me and asked if it would help her voice. I said yes. Then I saw the wheels turning in her head and said, "It won't help mine....mine's in a shell somewhere and daddy hasn't found it yet." We had a good laugh over that one. Slowly but surely I am getting more of my voice back. In the mornings I sound half decent and it isn't painful to talk. By the evening it's much harder. I am learning that a voice nap in the afternoons helps a lot. And my hope is that Santa will put one of these, http://www.amazon.com/PWMA50B-Waist-Band-Microphone-Rechargeable-Batteries/dp/B005I2YJPM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417021822&sr=8-1&keywords=voice+amplifier under the tree for me.
At this Thanksgiving time I do feel very, very fortunate. We are so grateful that I found the cancer in the early stages, we are grateful that regardless of the complications I can still be the mom I was meant to be. We are grateful for friends and family who have rallied the troops and brought meals, cleaned house and helped with kids. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You truly are God's angels. Now for the good news....my ultrasound came back "clean" and my thyroglobulin level came back low enough for me not to need additional surgery!!! YEPEE! Hooray! So happy and SO, SO grateful for miracles. Thank you for your prayers and faith on my behalf. So I get to glut myself for Thanksgiving and then go on my low-iodine diet and stop taking my meds on Saturday in preparation for the radioactive iodine.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Now lest I continue with idle prattle if anyone sees a possessed woman with a glowing seashell around her neck, text me. I need to send my prince off to smash it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VyFVG4VfPmg
(Disney's The Little Mermaid, one of my favorite movies as a kid)
I hear this song in my mind a few times a day. And some of the lyrics hit home, "..in pain, in need." And others, "Just a token really. A trifle.....it won't cost much, just your voice." And let's be grateful that I still have, "my looks, my pretty face, and don't underestimate the importance of body language."
Last week we were having dinner and Eliza had lost her voice due to a cold. Josh and I were trying to get her to eat and told her it would help her get better faster. She looked at me and asked if it would help her voice. I said yes. Then I saw the wheels turning in her head and said, "It won't help mine....mine's in a shell somewhere and daddy hasn't found it yet." We had a good laugh over that one. Slowly but surely I am getting more of my voice back. In the mornings I sound half decent and it isn't painful to talk. By the evening it's much harder. I am learning that a voice nap in the afternoons helps a lot. And my hope is that Santa will put one of these, http://www.amazon.com/PWMA50B-Waist-Band-Microphone-Rechargeable-Batteries/dp/B005I2YJPM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417021822&sr=8-1&keywords=voice+amplifier under the tree for me.
At this Thanksgiving time I do feel very, very fortunate. We are so grateful that I found the cancer in the early stages, we are grateful that regardless of the complications I can still be the mom I was meant to be. We are grateful for friends and family who have rallied the troops and brought meals, cleaned house and helped with kids. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You truly are God's angels. Now for the good news....my ultrasound came back "clean" and my thyroglobulin level came back low enough for me not to need additional surgery!!! YEPEE! Hooray! So happy and SO, SO grateful for miracles. Thank you for your prayers and faith on my behalf. So I get to glut myself for Thanksgiving and then go on my low-iodine diet and stop taking my meds on Saturday in preparation for the radioactive iodine.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Now lest I continue with idle prattle if anyone sees a possessed woman with a glowing seashell around her neck, text me. I need to send my prince off to smash it.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Cheap therapy
The week prior to my surgery my cousin lost her sweet daughter in an auto-pedestrian accident. She was only 18 months old. She blessed this earth for only 566 days. That is too short. It is a tragic and horrible thing to have to bury one so small. As I felt helpless in trying to figure out what I could do for her I remembered reading on a friends blog about when she lost her daughter. She was so mad she said she just felt like breaking something. She had said this at a friends home and that sweet woman went to her cupboard and picked up one of her china plates and handed it to her and said chuck it. I have always remembered that.
One month later I opened my kitchen cupboard and reminded Josh that he didn't like the plates and bowls we had, and that paper goods were doing just fine for us anyway. I packed a laundry basket full of dishes and went down to her house. My sis-in-law met me there and at first it was a little awkward. I was there to offer support but it was also the first time I had seen her since my diagnosis. After hugs and trying to figure out what to say I explained the reason for the dishes. I said that I have had moments where I just wanted to break something and thought she might have had a few of those herself. And then I asked if she wanted to go outside and break them. I loved my sis-in-law's reaction...."i've never broken a dish on purpose before!" We went out to a small cement pad in her backyard. It was just perfect, like it was purposely created to throw dishes onto.
One month later I opened my kitchen cupboard and reminded Josh that he didn't like the plates and bowls we had, and that paper goods were doing just fine for us anyway. I packed a laundry basket full of dishes and went down to her house. My sis-in-law met me there and at first it was a little awkward. I was there to offer support but it was also the first time I had seen her since my diagnosis. After hugs and trying to figure out what to say I explained the reason for the dishes. I said that I have had moments where I just wanted to break something and thought she might have had a few of those herself. And then I asked if she wanted to go outside and break them. I loved my sis-in-law's reaction...."i've never broken a dish on purpose before!" We went out to a small cement pad in her backyard. It was just perfect, like it was purposely created to throw dishes onto.
The sound of breaking glass/ceramics is an awesome one. Especially when done on purpose. It's a little nerve wrecking when you hear it in a crowded restaurant knowing some poor waiter dropped it on accident. That fall day the three of us stood around this cement pad and poured out our frustrations. As we held each item we said something that made us mad, angry or just so sad and then proceeded to throw and smash dish after dish. We cried and laughed and yelled and it was incredible. And then as any good mamas would do we grabbed the brooms and cleaned up our mess.
Breaking dishes really solved nothing, but leaving that day somehow I felt better. That the anger I had been feeling inside had an outlet and was OK. I highly recommend it for anyone that is having a hard time. Heck, I even have a few dishes left in my cupboard come on over and we'll break them.
The hardest moment so far....
Throughout this journey there have been days where I will feel ok, and then the next second I start crying. My toddler and I are in mini-meltdown mode.
The second week after my surgery Joshua said, "Mom, my neck hurts" and bent his head to the side. There on the side of his neck was a lump about the size of a large marble. Seriously?! I thought this can't be happening. So I scheduled him for a doctor appointment the next day. Josh was at work and I took the boys to the doctor. I was ok and mentally prepared myself for being in public and talking to people. When we got there I explained to the doctor about my situation with the cancer and vocal cord. I told him I was extremely anxious about Joshua and just wanted to have him checked out. We decided to have his blood drawn and then do a round of antibiotics to see if it would go down. As a nurse this was basically what I expected. So I explained to Joshua that they had to take some of his blood. He knew what this required having seen me have my blood drawn many times. I told him he could do it. I let him watch Jake and the Neverland pirates on my phone, (thank you distractions) and the first nurse came in. She tried and missed. Now I know that happens having missed plenty of times myself. But I still was almost at the point to draw it myself. So the second nurse came in and brought two others with her to hold him down. When he had just sat still during the first attempt. I tried to tell her he would hold still if she just explained things to him. She sort of brushed me off and started to position him and put the tourniquet on. Anyone who has worked pediatrics knows that the tourniquet is the worst part and makes the kid freak out. Which is exactly what Joshua did. He stood up on the table and started screaming. The nurses were trying to grab him and I was trying to calm him down. The only problem was he couldn't hear me. I'm the mom and I couldn't comfort my frightened child because he couldn't hear me. I was so upset I turned to the nurses and had them stop and back away. Then with one arm holding Mark I half climbed onto the exam table and grabbed Joshua and pulled him down so I could whisper in his ear. I again explained to him that moving makes it worse and they want to hold you down but if you trust mama I will hold you and you can do this. Still holding Mark I held Joshua "down" with one arm, he was crying, Mark was crying and I was crying. After the 4 vials were filled he sat up and I just held him. The nurse said he was so brave she gave him 2 suckers. Unfortunately Mark also had to get a shot and I had to hold him down also. When he was done Joshua leaned over and gave him a kiss and held out one of his suckers. He is such a loving big brother.
We are just about done with the antibiotics (2nd round) and his lump is significantly smaller. We are hopeful it's just an overactive lymph node.
The second week after my surgery Joshua said, "Mom, my neck hurts" and bent his head to the side. There on the side of his neck was a lump about the size of a large marble. Seriously?! I thought this can't be happening. So I scheduled him for a doctor appointment the next day. Josh was at work and I took the boys to the doctor. I was ok and mentally prepared myself for being in public and talking to people. When we got there I explained to the doctor about my situation with the cancer and vocal cord. I told him I was extremely anxious about Joshua and just wanted to have him checked out. We decided to have his blood drawn and then do a round of antibiotics to see if it would go down. As a nurse this was basically what I expected. So I explained to Joshua that they had to take some of his blood. He knew what this required having seen me have my blood drawn many times. I told him he could do it. I let him watch Jake and the Neverland pirates on my phone, (thank you distractions) and the first nurse came in. She tried and missed. Now I know that happens having missed plenty of times myself. But I still was almost at the point to draw it myself. So the second nurse came in and brought two others with her to hold him down. When he had just sat still during the first attempt. I tried to tell her he would hold still if she just explained things to him. She sort of brushed me off and started to position him and put the tourniquet on. Anyone who has worked pediatrics knows that the tourniquet is the worst part and makes the kid freak out. Which is exactly what Joshua did. He stood up on the table and started screaming. The nurses were trying to grab him and I was trying to calm him down. The only problem was he couldn't hear me. I'm the mom and I couldn't comfort my frightened child because he couldn't hear me. I was so upset I turned to the nurses and had them stop and back away. Then with one arm holding Mark I half climbed onto the exam table and grabbed Joshua and pulled him down so I could whisper in his ear. I again explained to him that moving makes it worse and they want to hold you down but if you trust mama I will hold you and you can do this. Still holding Mark I held Joshua "down" with one arm, he was crying, Mark was crying and I was crying. After the 4 vials were filled he sat up and I just held him. The nurse said he was so brave she gave him 2 suckers. Unfortunately Mark also had to get a shot and I had to hold him down also. When he was done Joshua leaned over and gave him a kiss and held out one of his suckers. He is such a loving big brother.
We are just about done with the antibiotics (2nd round) and his lump is significantly smaller. We are hopeful it's just an overactive lymph node.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
A letter
Dear Yoga stranger,
Thank you for kindness the other day. I was very nervous to go to a class but felt like I needed to exercise. I was explaining the whole cancer thing to the instructor and when I got to the part where I don't know when i'll have to do radioactive iodine you just come over and hugged me. You didn't say anything and it was a brief hug but it was enough. In our world of technology a hashtag or little heart symbol can only do so much. So thank you. That hug buoyed me up and kept be going. And thank you for sending a smile my way when I snuck out only lasting a little while.
namaste
Thank you for kindness the other day. I was very nervous to go to a class but felt like I needed to exercise. I was explaining the whole cancer thing to the instructor and when I got to the part where I don't know when i'll have to do radioactive iodine you just come over and hugged me. You didn't say anything and it was a brief hug but it was enough. In our world of technology a hashtag or little heart symbol can only do so much. So thank you. That hug buoyed me up and kept be going. And thank you for sending a smile my way when I snuck out only lasting a little while.
namaste
Josh's update
Hi all,
I thought I’d give you an update on how Sherri is doing. She is feeling better every week with some rough days and some better days. She’s on a low hormone dose until she does the radioactive iodine and that is really affecting her energy levels. I’m back at work full time, but I haven’t actually had a week where I didn’t take time off yet since her surgery. She is able to take care of the children while I’m at work but doesn’t have a whole lot of energy for much else and I often end up getting in to work late and leaving early to help with things. We are able to do the necessary things to keep afloat and a lot of the other things can wait.
Thank you to all that have helped in any way during this hard time.
On Sunday Sherri went to sacrament meeting, (http://www.mormonnewsroom.org/article/sacrament-meeting) for the first time since her surgery. There was a musical number where our neighbors sang as a family. That was hard for Sherri because it hit her that she’ll probably not be able to do that with her family. She has expressed her (left recurrent laryngeal) nerve having been cut is definitely the hardest thing she is dealing with right now. It’s especially frustrating sometimes for both of us because it’s so rare (about 1 in 200). The doctor said he’s only cut one other RLN nerve before and that was 15 years ago. Nerve damage occurs more frequently (5% to 15%) but much of the damage being temporary. About 2-3% end up with permanent nerve damage with some fraction of that having complete Unilateral Vocal Fold Paralysis (UVFP).
The speech therapist says Sherri has done extremely well and is very surprised by how well she can talk. She still has to concentrate very hard to swallow so she doesn’t aspirate her food or drink. She has exercises to strengthen her voice. I took her out on a date on Saturday night and we went to a sushi place at 7 but it was too loud for her to speak over the noise so we left and came back at 9 when it was quiet.
Sherri is having labs drawn today to determine whether there are chemical indications of significant tumor mass remaining. She’ll have an ultrasound on her neck to look for tumors on Friday. If those tests indicate she does not have a lot of cancer mass in her body, they will put her on a low iodine diet and stop her thyroid medication for two weeks. This will probably cause her to feel tired and unwell to some degree and may affect her reaction times enough to prohibit her from driving. After the 2 weeks (probably a week after Thanksgiving), she will get a dose of radioactive iodine (RAI) to target and destroy any remaining thyroid (cancer) tissue in her body.
If the tests this week indicate she has substantial cancer tissue remaining, they will send her back for additional operations to remove it before she has RAI treatment. This obviously would introduce additional risks. In fact, when the cancer was found in 3 of 5 lymph nodes, the surgeon considered a possible follow up surgery to remove more lymph nodes but after consulting colleagues he decided that the risk to the remaining functional RLN nerve was too great. If the other nerve is damaged, she would need a tracheotomy in order to breathe. While the risk of permanent damage to that remaining nerve is small (2-3%), it is still significant.
Naturally, we are hoping and praying for no more surgery and that RAI treatment takes care of the cancer for good. Sherri will be isolated for about 4 days while she is radioactive. RAI often affects taste and sometimes causes painful inflammation in salivary glands for weeks to months.
Sometime after reviewing the lab results and ultrasound and perhaps even after the RAI treatment, the endocrinologist will give Sherri a final cancer staging. It will be stage I or II. They have already ruled out stage III and IV cancer. We will let you know what we find out.
Thank you for your prayers and support!
Singing in the Rain
We have felt like it's raining here some days and so we just sing, or the kids sing and dance and I enjoy and watch. This post is so we can look back and laugh at everything that's happened here's a list of everything that's broken since we started this journey:
-washing machine
-Toyota battery
-Honda battery
-Honda wind shield (giant crack snaked down a little too far)
-vacuum cleaner
-furnace
-dryer
-kitchen chair
Thank goodness I married myself a handyman. The joke has been when Josh gets home I tell him something new that's broken that he gets to put on his list.
I found this gem when I was looking through some old pics and had to share. It's my Gracie girl when she was 3.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Coping
When you get hit with a life changer you find ways to cope. At the Gunn household it was/is cat videos. YouTube cat videos. There are millions of them and they make us laugh. That first week after we would eat dinner, (thank you again neighbors!) and either while eating or during clean up we would turn on video after video just to laugh. It felt so good to laugh at something that was so silly and only a few minutes long. Laughter truly is the best medicine. Distractions are great too. I wait for the time when evening comes and I know we get to watch videos and snuggle and laugh. Most nights Josh would put the kids down while I held and rocked the baby and then we would snuggle on the couch and watch a movie. You get lost in a movie. So for 90 minutes you are somewhere else and you can almost feel normal again.
Enjoy some of our favorites:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgjXG_9L_Jw
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kl1RwhATTzA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Bmhjf0rKe8
We have always loved reading together as a family and we take turns reading out loud. Lately we've been into The Candy Shop War, and pile into our bed and listen to Josh read. I love it. Whenever he pauses one child will instantly say, "Keep reading!". We finished The Secret Zoo the week before my surgery and I read that one out loud. Reading out loud is just such a wonderful way to connect and escape with your kids to far off adventures!
This particular night Joshua and I were too bushed to stay awake to listen!
Grocery store
I haven't been grocery shopping yet. Thanks to my husband, mom and mother-in-law I haven't needed to. And that's just what I want. I have some friends and blogs that I follow that have dealt with great loss and tragedy in their lives and I find it interesting that the one place that they all fear is the grocery store. I remember reading that and thinking well that's just silly, it's just a store. I run to the store a few times a week! And that's the problem. For me I realized I fear it because that's the old mom. That's the normal mom. That's the woman who would lug all four kids in and conquer the list and menu and come home and put stuff away and make dinner and help with homework and be just normal. I'm scared of getting in there and not having enough energy to get out. (Come on people, Wal-mart is scary enough on a full tank!) I'm scared of having a mini panic attack when the cashier can't hear me.
The first week that I was driving the kids to all their activities I was tired and the boys were grumpy because I had to leave them buckled in while we waited because I didn't have the energy to chase them around the building. So I did what any good mom does...I drove to Wendy's to get us all a Frosty. The guy couldn't hear/understand me. I felt like I was yelling. I used my diaphragm and was working so hard and he totally didn't get it right. So we pulled through and I went to McDonald's to get me a smoothie thinking it would be better. Nope. Still had to say it 4 or 5 times. Granted I know that drive-thru technology is still lacking and pretty much a guessing game on both sides but that day it was awful. So I retreated back to my house vowing not to use the drive-thru ever again.
The first week that I was driving the kids to all their activities I was tired and the boys were grumpy because I had to leave them buckled in while we waited because I didn't have the energy to chase them around the building. So I did what any good mom does...I drove to Wendy's to get us all a Frosty. The guy couldn't hear/understand me. I felt like I was yelling. I used my diaphragm and was working so hard and he totally didn't get it right. So we pulled through and I went to McDonald's to get me a smoothie thinking it would be better. Nope. Still had to say it 4 or 5 times. Granted I know that drive-thru technology is still lacking and pretty much a guessing game on both sides but that day it was awful. So I retreated back to my house vowing not to use the drive-thru ever again.
The Incredible Gunns
Halloween came. I vowed to be as normal as possible. Since my children plan their costumes a year in advance we were ready before I went in for surgery. Grace loves family themes and we humor her. She made the masks herself this year. It was fitting that the costumes were pre chosen because we needed to feel Incredible and the best way to do that is to don red spandex, fill yourself with stuffing and walk around in black boots.
The Incredible Gunns 2014
Mr. Incredible is my husband. Seriously no joke. I think he's going bowling, but nope out saving people, mostly just me.
Joshua was Dash and anyone that knows him this knows how accurate this is. He runs laps around the house daily and refused to wear the "G" and had to have the "i" on his chest because he really was Dash. I love this picture. He said, "I'm smiling even though you can't see my smile". I was so sad when he came home from preschool. I opened the door and the first thing he said was, "Next time I will not wear my underwear on the outside." I hate when kids say mean things. He was so excited when we got out of the car to go to preschool. I called out and said, "I love you Dash!", to which he replied, "Goodbye Elastagirl". He then proceeded to run really fast up to the sidewalk, and then marched inside the door.
Josh's aunt stopped by for a visit on Halloween and was this cleaning whirlwind. She sent me upstairs for a nap and I came down and the house was clean, the laundry folded, like seriously everything scrubbed. It felt soooo good. Best Halloween trick ever!
We had dinner with friends and then went trick-or-treating. I made it a block but it was so wonderful to be out and enjoying things. Life is good. Oh so good.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Help
(http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=yWP6Qki8mWc
Ahh the Beatles. Classic)
I had my first panic attack on Saturday at our ward Hoe Down. (Ward explanation:
http://www.mormon.org/faq/ward-stake-branch)
On the calendar was this ward function and the whole time I was just planning on sending Josh and the kids. Then Saturday arrives and I start to get angry that the cancer is stopping me from enjoying my life. Josh asked me if I was going to be ok and I told him that I didn't want the cancer to ruin my life. If I hadn't just been through what I had we would pack the kids in the car and go and that was exactly what I wanted to do. Put on a happy face and pretend things were good. So we did. We got there and it was good to be out of the house. It was good to see friendly and caring faces and it horrible the second I heard the music. It was loud and it was country and it was right by the tables where everyone was sitting. Now I was working really hard to be heard above a whisper this was darn near impossible. So I got in the chili line with the kids and had to bend down and yell (whisper as loud as I could) in their ears to ask them what they wanted. Then when we sat down everyone came to ask how I was doing. Bless my husband. He was trying to field all the questions from every side and take care of the kids and somehow eat himself. I was still very uncomfortable eating in front of anyone and had to duck my head with each bite. There was a cup of water in front of me but I dared not drink in case I started choking. I was grateful that it was chili and somewhat easy to swallow. The kids wanted to go feed some chickens so josh took the older ones and I was left without my knight to defend me. I told him to go and kept telling myself I could do this. But it quickly became apparent that I couldn't. The baby was fussy and I was too weak to wrestle with him. I could see Josh a ways off but couldn't call to him. So I had to go close to him and urgently whisper that we needed to go. I have never felt so physically safe and protected inside my own home as I did that night. As we drove up our long driveway I felt instantly safe. Nobody was looking at me, I didn't have to talk, I could eat and cough and gag and it wasn't a big deal.
Why is it so hard to ask for help? Why are we so prideful that we can't ask? Why does it make me feel like merely asking implies that I am incapable and therefore worthless.
I had my second panic attack the following week when I was on my own meaning Josh had gone back to work but usually ended up coming home early because I called him crying. It was Friday and I had decided that no matter what I wasn't going to call him. We had suffered with the stomach flu all week with each child picking a different night to be awake and throwing up. It went mostly well until the afternoon. That's usually when it gets hard for me and today my throat was really tight. It was getting harder to breathe and swallow. Josh had texted a few times and I gave non-committal replies. He tried calling but I knew if I answered he'd come home. (That's just who he is. He gets up and goes to work after taking the girls to school, works all day, comes home and does laundry, cleans up dinner, bathes and gets kids to bed then stays up until midnight working. He's amazing and I love him more today than ever.)
So I layed on the floor and tried to focus on breathing. I tried to play with the baby but was having a hard time. I texted a few people trying to non challantley set up playdates but nothing worked out. I needed help but didn't know how to ask. It's so hard. It's hard because everyone says, "Give me a call if you ever need anything" or "let me know if I can help". But actually calling them is really, really hard.
But through all this I have been blessed by so many angels. People who have just shown up on my doorstep with meals when I couldn't even think about cooking. They have fed us and cared for us. A dear friend showed up just to do my dishes and left, another came by at night with her bucket of cleaning supplies and said I'm here to clean your bathrooms and then did just that. I have been sent boxes of sunshine, flowers, notes of love and prayers. People have picked up my kids and came and cried with me. I have been buoyed by their strength and kindness. To all of you angels thank you. You will never know the depth of my gratitude and love.
That day of panic I came across this and again felt encouragement from on high:
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2zk2tyEM9i8
Ahh the Beatles. Classic)
I had my first panic attack on Saturday at our ward Hoe Down. (Ward explanation:
http://www.mormon.org/faq/ward-stake-branch)
On the calendar was this ward function and the whole time I was just planning on sending Josh and the kids. Then Saturday arrives and I start to get angry that the cancer is stopping me from enjoying my life. Josh asked me if I was going to be ok and I told him that I didn't want the cancer to ruin my life. If I hadn't just been through what I had we would pack the kids in the car and go and that was exactly what I wanted to do. Put on a happy face and pretend things were good. So we did. We got there and it was good to be out of the house. It was good to see friendly and caring faces and it horrible the second I heard the music. It was loud and it was country and it was right by the tables where everyone was sitting. Now I was working really hard to be heard above a whisper this was darn near impossible. So I got in the chili line with the kids and had to bend down and yell (whisper as loud as I could) in their ears to ask them what they wanted. Then when we sat down everyone came to ask how I was doing. Bless my husband. He was trying to field all the questions from every side and take care of the kids and somehow eat himself. I was still very uncomfortable eating in front of anyone and had to duck my head with each bite. There was a cup of water in front of me but I dared not drink in case I started choking. I was grateful that it was chili and somewhat easy to swallow. The kids wanted to go feed some chickens so josh took the older ones and I was left without my knight to defend me. I told him to go and kept telling myself I could do this. But it quickly became apparent that I couldn't. The baby was fussy and I was too weak to wrestle with him. I could see Josh a ways off but couldn't call to him. So I had to go close to him and urgently whisper that we needed to go. I have never felt so physically safe and protected inside my own home as I did that night. As we drove up our long driveway I felt instantly safe. Nobody was looking at me, I didn't have to talk, I could eat and cough and gag and it wasn't a big deal.
Why is it so hard to ask for help? Why are we so prideful that we can't ask? Why does it make me feel like merely asking implies that I am incapable and therefore worthless.
I had my second panic attack the following week when I was on my own meaning Josh had gone back to work but usually ended up coming home early because I called him crying. It was Friday and I had decided that no matter what I wasn't going to call him. We had suffered with the stomach flu all week with each child picking a different night to be awake and throwing up. It went mostly well until the afternoon. That's usually when it gets hard for me and today my throat was really tight. It was getting harder to breathe and swallow. Josh had texted a few times and I gave non-committal replies. He tried calling but I knew if I answered he'd come home. (That's just who he is. He gets up and goes to work after taking the girls to school, works all day, comes home and does laundry, cleans up dinner, bathes and gets kids to bed then stays up until midnight working. He's amazing and I love him more today than ever.)
So I layed on the floor and tried to focus on breathing. I tried to play with the baby but was having a hard time. I texted a few people trying to non challantley set up playdates but nothing worked out. I needed help but didn't know how to ask. It's so hard. It's hard because everyone says, "Give me a call if you ever need anything" or "let me know if I can help". But actually calling them is really, really hard.
But through all this I have been blessed by so many angels. People who have just shown up on my doorstep with meals when I couldn't even think about cooking. They have fed us and cared for us. A dear friend showed up just to do my dishes and left, another came by at night with her bucket of cleaning supplies and said I'm here to clean your bathrooms and then did just that. I have been sent boxes of sunshine, flowers, notes of love and prayers. People have picked up my kids and came and cried with me. I have been buoyed by their strength and kindness. To all of you angels thank you. You will never know the depth of my gratitude and love.
That day of panic I came across this and again felt encouragement from on high:
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2zk2tyEM9i8
Questions
(http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=h1vJ7ARCdG
I feel like I'm the singer asking all these questions and expecting the answer I want when I'm given all sorts of random ones!)
week #1 we had help during the day since I was still very weak and tired. Everyday felt like forever. Being members of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints we are fortunate to have a built in system ready to help at a moments notice. They had meals brought in to help keep us a float.
I had my postop appointment and had a very large tube put in my nose and down my neck to take pictures of the paralyzed cord. But before they do the shovin they spray some stuff that smells and tastes like dirt that has been recently fertilized. (Just keepin it real and telling you all the good stuff!:-) This test was almost as bad as the neck biopsy. Scale of 1-10, 8.8, with the biopsy being the 8.9. 9 of course is reserved for giving birth with your femur bone cracked in half. And all my births have been done with intact femurs so I have no idea. Anyway with the test we saw that there was no movement on the left side. But as I talked to everyone they would always reply with shock that I sounded as good as I did. This is all due to another tender mercy in my life. The place where my vocal cord "froze" is great. It's almost in the middle. If it had been stuck closer to the outer edge I would be a lot more raspy and singing would be definitely impossible. Amazing what a few millimeters can mean for my quality of life. As for now my right side is working overtime to try and reach across the center to meet the left fold. It is tiring talking. If I don't rest my voice a few times a day I get extremely tired. Of course this is hard to do with an overly talkative 4 year old who likes to have a running conversation the entire day. Hello Jake and the Neverland pirates!
At that visit we also learned a little more about the cancer. We learned that it had spread. They removed 4 lymph nodes at the time of the surgery and 3 came back positive for the cancer. Which means I have metastatic papillary thyroid carcinoma. While this doesn't change my prognosis it could change how it's treated. So now we wait. We wait for more tests and more unknowns and more results.
I feel like I'm the singer asking all these questions and expecting the answer I want when I'm given all sorts of random ones!)
week #1 we had help during the day since I was still very weak and tired. Everyday felt like forever. Being members of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints we are fortunate to have a built in system ready to help at a moments notice. They had meals brought in to help keep us a float.
I had my postop appointment and had a very large tube put in my nose and down my neck to take pictures of the paralyzed cord. But before they do the shovin they spray some stuff that smells and tastes like dirt that has been recently fertilized. (Just keepin it real and telling you all the good stuff!:-) This test was almost as bad as the neck biopsy. Scale of 1-10, 8.8, with the biopsy being the 8.9. 9 of course is reserved for giving birth with your femur bone cracked in half. And all my births have been done with intact femurs so I have no idea. Anyway with the test we saw that there was no movement on the left side. But as I talked to everyone they would always reply with shock that I sounded as good as I did. This is all due to another tender mercy in my life. The place where my vocal cord "froze" is great. It's almost in the middle. If it had been stuck closer to the outer edge I would be a lot more raspy and singing would be definitely impossible. Amazing what a few millimeters can mean for my quality of life. As for now my right side is working overtime to try and reach across the center to meet the left fold. It is tiring talking. If I don't rest my voice a few times a day I get extremely tired. Of course this is hard to do with an overly talkative 4 year old who likes to have a running conversation the entire day. Hello Jake and the Neverland pirates!
At that visit we also learned a little more about the cancer. We learned that it had spread. They removed 4 lymph nodes at the time of the surgery and 3 came back positive for the cancer. Which means I have metastatic papillary thyroid carcinoma. While this doesn't change my prognosis it could change how it's treated. So now we wait. We wait for more tests and more unknowns and more results.
Silence is Golden
This is the title of my blog because this song runs around inside my head all the time.
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=n03g8nsaBro
Noise. It is my worst enemy. I never noticed how noisy our world is until I became unable to compete with it.
I love to talk. Anyone who knows me knows I love to talk. From my childhood I remember many a family dinner with everyone done eating and my plate full because I had talked the entire meal. My mom's words. "Sherri, stop talking and start eating." Funny, I have had to repeat those same words to my children. :-)
I can't think of one parent/teacher conference where it didn't go something like this, "Sherri's a good student, she just talks too much!" Even in college in nursing school I had a few teachers pull me aside and remind me to stop talking. I remember hating silence. Seriosuly if a teacher stands up at the front of a room and there is silence I would feel this primitive urge to open my mouth.
Now that silence is my friend. It means I can be still and not have to say anything. It also means that if I choose to open my mouth I can be heard.
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=n03g8nsaBro
Noise. It is my worst enemy. I never noticed how noisy our world is until I became unable to compete with it.
I love to talk. Anyone who knows me knows I love to talk. From my childhood I remember many a family dinner with everyone done eating and my plate full because I had talked the entire meal. My mom's words. "Sherri, stop talking and start eating." Funny, I have had to repeat those same words to my children. :-)
I can't think of one parent/teacher conference where it didn't go something like this, "Sherri's a good student, she just talks too much!" Even in college in nursing school I had a few teachers pull me aside and remind me to stop talking. I remember hating silence. Seriosuly if a teacher stands up at the front of a room and there is silence I would feel this primitive urge to open my mouth.
Now that silence is my friend. It means I can be still and not have to say anything. It also means that if I choose to open my mouth I can be heard.
The good cancer
Every thyroid cancer blog i've read has a post similar to this one.
(A lot of conversations go something like this)
"I have cancer." (Which saying out loud is really hard to do. It's acknowledging something that you are wishing would go away)
" Oh. (Awkward pause) I am so sorry. What kind?"
"Thyroid"
"Oh that's good. At least it's treatable and the best kind to get."
Yes you are right. If I had to choose a cancer this would be the one i'd pick. But that doesn't make it easy, or less scary, or easier on my husband. It doesn't mean that with good odds i'd like to take a chance and gamble. It's hard because at times I felt like when I explained that it was thyroid cancer I was actually brushed off. "Oh my sister-in-law had that and she had an easy recovery." It seems as if everyone knows someone who has had thyroid cancer and dealt with it easily.
But if there is one thing I would like to share is that cancer is cancer. You feel like there is an alien invasion inside of you and you don't know how to stop it. I loved talking to my friends husband one day. He saw me out on a walk and asked how I was doing. (Another one of my least favorite questions. How do you answer? ! Good? Awful?) Anyway he wanted to tell me about when they found out. He said they were driving and his wife got a text and immediately started crying. He was concerned and asked what happened. She said Sherri Gunn has cancer. He asked what kind and she said, "Does it matter?" When he told me that I started crying also because she got it. She understood that although I have a great prognosis, and know that so many are diagnosed with awful diseases and I should consider myself lucky, I am also struggling with having my life turned upside down.
(A lot of conversations go something like this)
"I have cancer." (Which saying out loud is really hard to do. It's acknowledging something that you are wishing would go away)
" Oh. (Awkward pause) I am so sorry. What kind?"
"Thyroid"
"Oh that's good. At least it's treatable and the best kind to get."
Yes you are right. If I had to choose a cancer this would be the one i'd pick. But that doesn't make it easy, or less scary, or easier on my husband. It doesn't mean that with good odds i'd like to take a chance and gamble. It's hard because at times I felt like when I explained that it was thyroid cancer I was actually brushed off. "Oh my sister-in-law had that and she had an easy recovery." It seems as if everyone knows someone who has had thyroid cancer and dealt with it easily.
But if there is one thing I would like to share is that cancer is cancer. You feel like there is an alien invasion inside of you and you don't know how to stop it. I loved talking to my friends husband one day. He saw me out on a walk and asked how I was doing. (Another one of my least favorite questions. How do you answer? ! Good? Awful?) Anyway he wanted to tell me about when they found out. He said they were driving and his wife got a text and immediately started crying. He was concerned and asked what happened. She said Sherri Gunn has cancer. He asked what kind and she said, "Does it matter?" When he told me that I started crying also because she got it. She understood that although I have a great prognosis, and know that so many are diagnosed with awful diseases and I should consider myself lucky, I am also struggling with having my life turned upside down.
Homeward bound
The next morning Dr. M. came in to remove the drain. How do you remove a drain? Think 3rd grade tug of war with your neck being the losing team. After recess was over we asked him a lot of questions. He reassured us that he has never had a patient die from papillary carcinoma. That I was young and had an excellent prognosis. In fact because of my age I could only be in stage 1 or 2 because the requirements for stage 3 or 4 was older than 45. He also explained that he was surprised I had felt the lumps. He said it was divine inspiration for sure because they were so small. That's why they had begun to close me up, they hadn't thought it was cancer at all. He said that it was while removing the left side they saw that they had cut my nerve. I whispered and asked if he had done it before and he said only once 15 years ago. I was one of those rare cases.
When you have a paralyzed vocal cord swallowing is difficult, especially right after surgery. Water is the worst. As I lay there my nurses training kicked in and I would tuck my chin down when I swallowed. I thought of some of the stroke patients I had taken care of. We got online and I ordered thick-it a nasty thickiner but wonderful in making it so I didn't choke. Taking pills is awful and I would gag and sorta cough and gag again. We were released from the hospital that day and then our kids were brought home on Sunday.
Most of the time I whispered because it was so much easier. Funny thing about whispering.....people around you whisper back. I would be saying something to Josh and he would whisper a reply. I smiled and reminded him that he had a voice. When our kids arrived it really hit home that I was different. I'm the mom. I call upstairs to come to dinner. I call outside to come in from playing. We sing and talk all day long. Now I had this raspy voice that had no volume. In my head I kept saying it's ok you're going to be ok.
That first night my baby was back he was mad and fussy. I held him but couldn't for very long. I sat in the boys room in the rocker and Josh sat beside us. I have sung every night I have put my kids to bed. Josh and I usually sang a spider web duet song to the kids. I had a made up song for changing diapers and for taking naps, I sang them the good morning song from singing in the rain to wake them up. I even taught a music class once a week for most of my children's lives. I love to sing. When you are incapable of doing something that was so natural to your body and soul you have to really focus on the positive or else you get depressed. That night as Josh sang for me while I held the baby I was so frustrated. And baby could tell so he started to fuss so I put him on my chest and hummed. I was only able to hum a few bars of I am a child of God but it instantly calmed him. It took so much effort, like running up a mountain. The breathing part was the hardest, but I was so proud of myself. Josh was so proud of me. I told myself then that I would sing again. It may be a baritone and it may take some time but I will get there. I don't need to sing for anyone but myself and my kids.
When you have a paralyzed vocal cord swallowing is difficult, especially right after surgery. Water is the worst. As I lay there my nurses training kicked in and I would tuck my chin down when I swallowed. I thought of some of the stroke patients I had taken care of. We got online and I ordered thick-it a nasty thickiner but wonderful in making it so I didn't choke. Taking pills is awful and I would gag and sorta cough and gag again. We were released from the hospital that day and then our kids were brought home on Sunday.
Most of the time I whispered because it was so much easier. Funny thing about whispering.....people around you whisper back. I would be saying something to Josh and he would whisper a reply. I smiled and reminded him that he had a voice. When our kids arrived it really hit home that I was different. I'm the mom. I call upstairs to come to dinner. I call outside to come in from playing. We sing and talk all day long. Now I had this raspy voice that had no volume. In my head I kept saying it's ok you're going to be ok.
That first night my baby was back he was mad and fussy. I held him but couldn't for very long. I sat in the boys room in the rocker and Josh sat beside us. I have sung every night I have put my kids to bed. Josh and I usually sang a spider web duet song to the kids. I had a made up song for changing diapers and for taking naps, I sang them the good morning song from singing in the rain to wake them up. I even taught a music class once a week for most of my children's lives. I love to sing. When you are incapable of doing something that was so natural to your body and soul you have to really focus on the positive or else you get depressed. That night as Josh sang for me while I held the baby I was so frustrated. And baby could tell so he started to fuss so I put him on my chest and hummed. I was only able to hum a few bars of I am a child of God but it instantly calmed him. It took so much effort, like running up a mountain. The breathing part was the hardest, but I was so proud of myself. Josh was so proud of me. I told myself then that I would sing again. It may be a baritone and it may take some time but I will get there. I don't need to sing for anyone but myself and my kids.
October 17th - T-day
(The day had come even though I had hoped we'd just skip the 17th of the month of October. This is my "before" picture, except in this case the before is the better looking one and the after is the scary one!)
That night as we got ready for bed Josh asked if I had packed yet. Nope. Nada. If I don't pack I don't have to go. It was so surreal packing for a trip to the hospital with no baby inside of me. Usually the packing meant the baby was coming which was something to look forward to. Not this time, but we were hopeful that I'd just have a partial thyroidectomy and be home the next day...feeling better the next week.
We went in and I was nervous. In the back of my mind I thought it might be cancer but I kept pushing those thoughts away with positive thinking. I got into their lovely papery gown, (Which was uber cool because it had a patient warming system that could hook up to it and keep warm air on me the whole time. First time coming out of anesthesia WITHOUT shaking violently!) donned a blue cap, met with the anesthesiologist who gave me a miracle sticker to put behind my ear to help me not get nauseous, kissed my husband and was wheeled into the operating room.
As I so gracefully scooted in a paper gown from one gurney to another I started to panic. As they put the oxygen mask over my face I began to cry. As I looked up into the bright light blinding me I began to sob. My doctor, Dr. M., came over and patted my shoulder and bent down and said in my ear, "you're going to be fine". Then as I felt my body start to calm thanks to whatever they had put in my IV I could hear some oldies music playing, and saw my doctor start to dance and I smiled as I drifted off to Neverland.
As I began to come out of the fog I could feel my husband near me before I even opened my eyes. He was holding my hand and rubbing it. I remember laying on my side and Josh being really close to my face. I knew something happened just by looking at him. He said, "honey, they had to remove all of your thyroid because you have cancer."
CANCER
One of the ugliest words in our language. A frightening and awful word. It bounced around in my foggy brain a while. I hoarsely whispered what kind. The preliminary results were papillary but we would know more after the pathology report was back. Ugh. I asked him what happened and he told me about his ordeal.
He was alone in the waiting room because my parents were out of the country, and his were tending our flock. Alone he waited for the 1 hr 20 min surgery to be done. At 1 hr 30 min he began to get nervous at 2 hours he was researching everything on thyroid cancer and at close to 3 hours he sighed in relief when my name went from the OR color to the recovery room color on the monitor. That's when our doctor looking somber asked him to join him in the conference room. Not a good sign. My poor husband. I can't imagine doing that alone. The doctor explained to him that they had successfully removed the right lobe and sent it down to the lab and started closing me up. Then the lab called and said they found cancer in the right side and to remove the left. He stopped his story there as I was riding the morphine wave and needed to rest. He also said he needed to go for a walk and left pretty emotional.
A little later when I was more coherent Josh held my hand and explained there were complications. The doctor had severed my left laryngeal nerve which was why my voice wasn't working. Wow talk about double whammy. As I tried to process what that meant I had a flashback. I was on my knees praying. For the past year or more I have been on my knees praying and asking Heavenly Father for help in not yelling at my kids. I hate yelling and I hate that I lose my temper at the kids now and again. I have admired some close friends in their ability to talk patiently to their kids and the soft voice they use. One night in particular I remember explaining to God why I thought it was easier for them, they naturally had a soft voice all the time. I told him I naturally had a loud and commanding voice so sometimes even if I said things nicely they came out sounding bossy. If I only had a soft voice then even if I was stern it wouldn't be so harsh. Well, be careful what you pray for. =) As Josh was holding my hand I said, "my prayers were answered and now I have a soft voice". And then we cried and mourned and cried a bit more.
That night as we were getting ready for bed Josh opened the scriptures to where we were. (We have 4 books we read from, the Holy Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price.) We had just finished Doctrine and Covenants 97 the night before and so he opened to chapter 98. Sitting in that dark hospital room that felt so heavy he began to read:
Verily I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks;
2 Waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament—the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted.
3 Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord.
It was as if someone had removed the barbell from my heart. We both began to cry as we realized we had been given a very specific message from our Heavenly Father. In that moment I realized that whatever was ahead, whatever else we were given it would be ok. I would give thanks and I knew that I was not alone. We were not alone. My "voice" was heard and my pain and heartache was felt by someone else, my Savior.
(The after glamour shot.)
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