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.  

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. 

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.