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.