Today begins another new step in my journey.
My sister, Mari, moved in a few months ago, but has been away for much of that time. Today she returned with Isaac, an 8-year old grandson. Isaac is borderline autistic and the school where he was residing did not have the resouces to meet his needs. So, through many family discussions, it was decided that it was in Isaac's best interests for him to live with his grandmother and go to school here.
The end result is that our household now consists of Mom, Dad, Mari, Isaac and myself-- 4 generations of the same family. Plus the cutest little dog in the world, Sammie, of course.
I've always felt that I wanted my home to be a refuge from the storms of life for all who come in. I've spent the 18+ months trying to get the basement finished. There are still little details that need attending to and the kitchen isn't complete, but I've discovered the truth of the statement: "Build it and [they] will come" (Field of Dreams). For a single women who owns a 5-bedroom, 3-bath house-- I find that I need every one of those rooms. As a matter of fact, Mom isn't willing to let go of the Scout Room/sewing room so that Isaac can have a bedroom to call his own. We'll work out that little detail over the next while.
Superheroes are nothing if not adaptable. They know that circumstances change and are able to adjust accordingly. As their lives fill up, they don't feel crowded because their hearts are able to expand to embrace the changes and other people in their lives. Some days may be rocky-- but that's just part of life. If we didn't have a few rocks to bruise our toes, how would we ever appreciate the times when we have "peace like a river." It should be mentioned that "peace like a river" appears to be peaceful and to flow along, but the current always moves quickly! Life never slows down; it's just that the vista and the horizons change.
Love to you all!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Preparing for the next steps
I've been glad to be drain-free this week.
I must admit, however, that at least one of them probably should have stayed in a little longer. Fluid built up and I had to see Dr. Chen on Thursday to have it drained. The good thing was that I couldn't feel a thing-- even though the syringe seemed huge! I'm particularly wary of needles, but I didn't even feel its prick.
While I was there, she also decided to start inflating the tissue expander. The expander already had a "port" so she used a magnetic device to show where to insert the syringe. The needle poked a hole in my skin-- but again I didn't feel much. She refilled the syringe 4 times, but it was all painless.
When I got back to my car, however, I realized that I couldn't extend my arm to close the door. I had to use my right hand and arm. By the time I drove the hour back to work, the muscles in my back were extremely tense. The pain was bad enough that I began to feel nausea. I don't know if I have selective memory or if I've just forgotten, but I don't think I've felt that kind of pain in a long time, certainly not since surgery.
I could only force myself to stay at work for two hours, long enough to make to finish the conference call I in which I needed to participate. But, the moment it was over, I was out the door. I went home and immediately to bed. I hurt so much that I couldn't even move.
With the help of Alleve and the passage of time, I felt well enough to go back to work the next day-- but it felt like it was touch-and-go for most of the morning. I gradually felt better as the day progressed. Later I commented to Mom that I obviously was NOT going to get off scot free. Some days are easier than others and Thursday was a hard day.
I talked to a neighbor who has experience with tissue expanders. My question was "Does it always hurt when they expand?" Her answer was not particularly reassuring-- Yes, it always hurts after expansion. I see Dr. Chen again tomorrow-- and she indicated she might have to "top me off." I'm not excited about the visit.
This coming week I'll be meeting the two oncologists. I'm guessing that my chemo schedule will start the first week in October. The second oncologist will tell definitively whether I will be required to have radiation as well.
Superhero lives aren't necessarily easy. They have problems and experience pain just like everyone else. The difference is that superheroes draw upon their emotional reserves to get them through the moment. Sometimes the moment lasts only a few minutes, but other moments may last days, weeks or even years. I began to realize that this week's lesson was a deeper sense of appreciation for just how much I've been blessed-- for how little pain I have really been experiencing these past few weeks.
Through the pain I was feeling, I gained a greater appreciation for the Atonement of Jesus Christ-- who took upon Himself the sum of my physical, emotional and spiritual pains, as well as the burden of my sins, knowing that it was the only way to make it possible for me to return to live with Him and with Heavenly Father. I have difficulty visualizing the scope of what He took upon Himself in my behalf. Knowing that He did the same for every other person who would ever live upon this earth too, is truly incomprehensible. Yet I know that He accomplished that goal. My sense of humble gratitude, my sense of awe, continues to grow.
I must admit, however, that at least one of them probably should have stayed in a little longer. Fluid built up and I had to see Dr. Chen on Thursday to have it drained. The good thing was that I couldn't feel a thing-- even though the syringe seemed huge! I'm particularly wary of needles, but I didn't even feel its prick.
While I was there, she also decided to start inflating the tissue expander. The expander already had a "port" so she used a magnetic device to show where to insert the syringe. The needle poked a hole in my skin-- but again I didn't feel much. She refilled the syringe 4 times, but it was all painless.
When I got back to my car, however, I realized that I couldn't extend my arm to close the door. I had to use my right hand and arm. By the time I drove the hour back to work, the muscles in my back were extremely tense. The pain was bad enough that I began to feel nausea. I don't know if I have selective memory or if I've just forgotten, but I don't think I've felt that kind of pain in a long time, certainly not since surgery.
I could only force myself to stay at work for two hours, long enough to make to finish the conference call I in which I needed to participate. But, the moment it was over, I was out the door. I went home and immediately to bed. I hurt so much that I couldn't even move.
With the help of Alleve and the passage of time, I felt well enough to go back to work the next day-- but it felt like it was touch-and-go for most of the morning. I gradually felt better as the day progressed. Later I commented to Mom that I obviously was NOT going to get off scot free. Some days are easier than others and Thursday was a hard day.
I talked to a neighbor who has experience with tissue expanders. My question was "Does it always hurt when they expand?" Her answer was not particularly reassuring-- Yes, it always hurts after expansion. I see Dr. Chen again tomorrow-- and she indicated she might have to "top me off." I'm not excited about the visit.
This coming week I'll be meeting the two oncologists. I'm guessing that my chemo schedule will start the first week in October. The second oncologist will tell definitively whether I will be required to have radiation as well.
Superhero lives aren't necessarily easy. They have problems and experience pain just like everyone else. The difference is that superheroes draw upon their emotional reserves to get them through the moment. Sometimes the moment lasts only a few minutes, but other moments may last days, weeks or even years. I began to realize that this week's lesson was a deeper sense of appreciation for just how much I've been blessed-- for how little pain I have really been experiencing these past few weeks.
Through the pain I was feeling, I gained a greater appreciation for the Atonement of Jesus Christ-- who took upon Himself the sum of my physical, emotional and spiritual pains, as well as the burden of my sins, knowing that it was the only way to make it possible for me to return to live with Him and with Heavenly Father. I have difficulty visualizing the scope of what He took upon Himself in my behalf. Knowing that He did the same for every other person who would ever live upon this earth too, is truly incomprehensible. Yet I know that He accomplished that goal. My sense of humble gratitude, my sense of awe, continues to grow.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Good friends
There is nothing better than a good friend!
I'm talking about the kind of friend who is there for you and who loves you through thick and thin. The kind who looks at you and still sees you without the added pounds and the gray hair. The kind who remembers the flirtatious 20-something, yet is comfortable with the more mature (hopefully) you. The kind who knows all your secrets and foibles-- and loves you in spite of them.
My friend LuWane flew up from San Diego to spend the weekend with me before I start the chemo merry-go-round. She is that kind of friend.
She rode shotgun when we drove around gawking at homes in fancy neighborhoods, discussing the finer points of convincing slow-moving boyfriends to show more commitment. She's also the one who, after getting married, came back to report "she never understood just how easy it was to get married!" At this stage of my life, I can't remember that she imparted that knowledge to the rest of us. If she did, I must not have applied her formula.
I'm the one who was on the other end of the phone when her future husband finally knocked on her door. It was a blind date, set up by a mutual friend, and Mark, who is unfailingly punctual, was 15 minutes late! Neither one of us was particularly enamoured with going on blind dates. The guys were always such jerks that it made us nervous to ask ourselves what the mutual friends must think of us to set us up with that kind of a guy. Was it just that we were both single-- or did they really think that the idiot was someone that matched our personalities?
We've laughed ourselves sick and cried on each other's shoulders. We've shared and appreciated each other's talents and passions. We've traveled the world's cuisine through new ethnic restaurants. We've gone to plays and art museums and had deep philosophical discussions.
This weekend we've shopped and went for a long ride in the mountains to see the beautiful fall leaves. I played the new and interesting role of fashion police, who refused to allow her to buy one more item of clothing in a solid color. What I appreciate most is that we've just talked and talked and laughed and renewed our friendship!
Superheroes find joy is the primary reward of friendship. Friends stick with each other when times are rough, when the bonds of friendship are strained to the limits-- because they know the rewards will make it all worthwhile. They are the real deal; the friendship is based on reality, on everyday give-and-take-- and the determination to see each other through.
I'm talking about the kind of friend who is there for you and who loves you through thick and thin. The kind who looks at you and still sees you without the added pounds and the gray hair. The kind who remembers the flirtatious 20-something, yet is comfortable with the more mature (hopefully) you. The kind who knows all your secrets and foibles-- and loves you in spite of them.
My friend LuWane flew up from San Diego to spend the weekend with me before I start the chemo merry-go-round. She is that kind of friend.
She rode shotgun when we drove around gawking at homes in fancy neighborhoods, discussing the finer points of convincing slow-moving boyfriends to show more commitment. She's also the one who, after getting married, came back to report "she never understood just how easy it was to get married!" At this stage of my life, I can't remember that she imparted that knowledge to the rest of us. If she did, I must not have applied her formula.
I'm the one who was on the other end of the phone when her future husband finally knocked on her door. It was a blind date, set up by a mutual friend, and Mark, who is unfailingly punctual, was 15 minutes late! Neither one of us was particularly enamoured with going on blind dates. The guys were always such jerks that it made us nervous to ask ourselves what the mutual friends must think of us to set us up with that kind of a guy. Was it just that we were both single-- or did they really think that the idiot was someone that matched our personalities?
We've laughed ourselves sick and cried on each other's shoulders. We've shared and appreciated each other's talents and passions. We've traveled the world's cuisine through new ethnic restaurants. We've gone to plays and art museums and had deep philosophical discussions.
This weekend we've shopped and went for a long ride in the mountains to see the beautiful fall leaves. I played the new and interesting role of fashion police, who refused to allow her to buy one more item of clothing in a solid color. What I appreciate most is that we've just talked and talked and laughed and renewed our friendship!
Superheroes find joy is the primary reward of friendship. Friends stick with each other when times are rough, when the bonds of friendship are strained to the limits-- because they know the rewards will make it all worthwhile. They are the real deal; the friendship is based on reality, on everyday give-and-take-- and the determination to see each other through.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Progress
Today was my first post-operative visit with Dr. Chen (the cosmetic surgeon).
I was a little hopeful, but a little nervous about having the drains removed. I didn't know exactly how those tubes were attached to my underarm area and worried that it might hurt to have them removed. It probably didn't help that someone yesterday told me about a surgery they had, and when they removed the drain, they felt like the tubing had grown to be an integral part of their system, winding all through their body. When Dr. Chen actually removed the tube, I barely felt it-- there was a little tug and that was about it.
Why is it that our fears are almost always much worse than the reality of our experiences? Maybe no one else is like that, but I certainly am. I always seem to mentally prepare myself for a worst-case scenario. Do people who always expect the very best scenario find themselves disappointed when things don't quite live up to their expectations? In a case like this, I was anticipating pain and found that the reality wasn't painful at all. What would my day have been like if I had expected no pain, had been mentally ready for a painless experience? Would I have felt even better when the situation lived up to that relatively pain-free tugging? Would a positive attitude have carried over, even if it had been more painful?
Regardless of the presence or absence of physical pain, would it have been enough to have a day without any kind of anxiety?
Superheroes seem impervious to pain, but I don't think that's an accurate perception. I think the superhero attitude is that, pain happens, but it needn't be crippling. Pain does not need to hinder our actions, our approach to the day's events. I don't think I'm there yet-- but I'm willing to work on it.
I was a little hopeful, but a little nervous about having the drains removed. I didn't know exactly how those tubes were attached to my underarm area and worried that it might hurt to have them removed. It probably didn't help that someone yesterday told me about a surgery they had, and when they removed the drain, they felt like the tubing had grown to be an integral part of their system, winding all through their body. When Dr. Chen actually removed the tube, I barely felt it-- there was a little tug and that was about it.
Why is it that our fears are almost always much worse than the reality of our experiences? Maybe no one else is like that, but I certainly am. I always seem to mentally prepare myself for a worst-case scenario. Do people who always expect the very best scenario find themselves disappointed when things don't quite live up to their expectations? In a case like this, I was anticipating pain and found that the reality wasn't painful at all. What would my day have been like if I had expected no pain, had been mentally ready for a painless experience? Would I have felt even better when the situation lived up to that relatively pain-free tugging? Would a positive attitude have carried over, even if it had been more painful?
Regardless of the presence or absence of physical pain, would it have been enough to have a day without any kind of anxiety?
Superheroes seem impervious to pain, but I don't think that's an accurate perception. I think the superhero attitude is that, pain happens, but it needn't be crippling. Pain does not need to hinder our actions, our approach to the day's events. I don't think I'm there yet-- but I'm willing to work on it.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Limits
I guess that there are limits to what I can do-- and going to work all week was apparently more difficult than I thought at the time.
I've spent the weekend in my pajamas-- taking naps and lounging on the chaise in the living room or on the bed. I just haven't had the energy to do much else.
We had stake conference this weekend, but I stayed home from both sessions. I've felt guilty about that. When I was a kid, if we were too sick to go to school, we were definitely too sick to play outside or go to some desired activity. I've carried that philosophy over into adulthood, if I'm too sick to go to work, then I'm too sick to go shopping (except for essentials) or to a movie or anything else. But the opposite is also true, if I'm well enough to go to work, then I should be well enough to attend any church meeting or other extracurricular meeting when I have a responsibility to attend.
Maybe it's a matter of understanding one's limits and establishing priorities. I definitely need to ponder more on this subject.
Superheroes know themselves well enough to know how to pace themselves. They know when to stop and when they need to push a little harder. Superheroes understand the reasoning behind the commandment and are able to implement it in their own lives: "And see that all ... things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man [or woman] should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he [or she] should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefor, all things must be done in order." (Mosiah 4:27)
I've spent the weekend in my pajamas-- taking naps and lounging on the chaise in the living room or on the bed. I just haven't had the energy to do much else.
We had stake conference this weekend, but I stayed home from both sessions. I've felt guilty about that. When I was a kid, if we were too sick to go to school, we were definitely too sick to play outside or go to some desired activity. I've carried that philosophy over into adulthood, if I'm too sick to go to work, then I'm too sick to go shopping (except for essentials) or to a movie or anything else. But the opposite is also true, if I'm well enough to go to work, then I should be well enough to attend any church meeting or other extracurricular meeting when I have a responsibility to attend.
Maybe it's a matter of understanding one's limits and establishing priorities. I definitely need to ponder more on this subject.
Superheroes know themselves well enough to know how to pace themselves. They know when to stop and when they need to push a little harder. Superheroes understand the reasoning behind the commandment and are able to implement it in their own lives: "And see that all ... things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man [or woman] should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he [or she] should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefor, all things must be done in order." (Mosiah 4:27)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Gratitude
I don't have anything particularly profound to write today. I just want to express my gratitude to the many people who have and continue to offer love, support and their prayers in my behalf.
My burdens are made light because of those who are willing to help carry the load.
Meals have been brought in-- which was more of a blessing than I could have imagined. While I was in the hospital having surgery, Mom was home fighting a cold. Preparing meals in addition to caring for me and Dad and our puppy was beyond her abilities last week.
Rylie and Kinley, who are 10 and 8, were so upset that they asked their mother and grandmother if they could make fudge and bring it to us. It was chocolate with walnuts-- my favorite! They've also offered to take Sammie for walks if it is too much for Mom and me.
Alex drew a picture for me that he brought when his family brought us dinner. The picture hangs in a place of honor on our refrigerator door. Every time we open the refrigerator, we are reminded of his family's love, support and prayers.
Others have come to visit and have called. LuWane is coming all the way from San Diego to see me next week. (OK, the fall leaves have something to do with her visit as well.)
It is impossible to express just how much it all means to me and to our family. The kindness is overwhelming. Despite how well I am doing, there are moments when I feel like crying-- not out of sadness, but just because. Most of the time I feel like I'm taking things in stride, but there are odd moments when my emotions are very close to the surface. It is often in those very moments that someone steps in to remind me that I am loved.
While wondering how I ever came to deserve such kindness, I just promise that I will do my best to pass it on after I recover.
Superheroes put themselves on the line-- they perform some small act of service or kindness when prompted. They are also willing to accept with thankfulness those same acts of service given to them by others.
Thanks to you all! Maybe someday you will comprehend that what, to you, may seem small and insignificant has been an importact act of service to the recipient. Most of all, I am grateful to my Father in Heaven for blessing me with your presence in my life!
My burdens are made light because of those who are willing to help carry the load.
Meals have been brought in-- which was more of a blessing than I could have imagined. While I was in the hospital having surgery, Mom was home fighting a cold. Preparing meals in addition to caring for me and Dad and our puppy was beyond her abilities last week.
Rylie and Kinley, who are 10 and 8, were so upset that they asked their mother and grandmother if they could make fudge and bring it to us. It was chocolate with walnuts-- my favorite! They've also offered to take Sammie for walks if it is too much for Mom and me.
Alex drew a picture for me that he brought when his family brought us dinner. The picture hangs in a place of honor on our refrigerator door. Every time we open the refrigerator, we are reminded of his family's love, support and prayers.
Others have come to visit and have called. LuWane is coming all the way from San Diego to see me next week. (OK, the fall leaves have something to do with her visit as well.)
It is impossible to express just how much it all means to me and to our family. The kindness is overwhelming. Despite how well I am doing, there are moments when I feel like crying-- not out of sadness, but just because. Most of the time I feel like I'm taking things in stride, but there are odd moments when my emotions are very close to the surface. It is often in those very moments that someone steps in to remind me that I am loved.
While wondering how I ever came to deserve such kindness, I just promise that I will do my best to pass it on after I recover.
Superheroes put themselves on the line-- they perform some small act of service or kindness when prompted. They are also willing to accept with thankfulness those same acts of service given to them by others.
Thanks to you all! Maybe someday you will comprehend that what, to you, may seem small and insignificant has been an importact act of service to the recipient. Most of all, I am grateful to my Father in Heaven for blessing me with your presence in my life!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Pondering on an eternal future
When one has cancer, it's hard to avoid pondering about death, the resurrection and eternal judgment. I'm not afraid of death, nor am I particularly afraid to stand before my Savior at the bar of justice. Actually, I am comforted to know that he will be standing on my side of the bar to plead in my behalf (assuming that I can be classed among the righteous). I love the various titles ascribed to him which apply to this role: Advocate, Mediator, one who makes intercession. In Hebrews chapter 9, we are told that he "[appears] in the presence of God for us." In D&C 29, he says, "I am ... your advocate with the Father."
This particular court appearance may be a little different than what we are familiar with here. I don't know whether Satan will actually be in attendance as prosecuting attorney. He probably won't need to be. Will there be any other detractors there to proclaim our guilt. Or... will we find ourselves faced with those unalterable memories hardwired into our brains that cannot lie, no matter how much we may wish to protest our innocence. In this life, we may be able to justify our actions to ourselves, or delude ourselves into believing that we haven't inflicted physical or mental or emotional damage on others. It won't matter whether our thoughts and actions were deliberate or unintentional. We will see the damage. I'm afraid we may find ourselves like an unwitting witness to the train wrecks we have caused during our lives-- unable to turn our eyes away from the disaster that we know will follow such actions.
Of course, we do have the promise that, if we repent, the slate will be wiped clean. Isaiah promises "[T]hough your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow" (Isaiah 1:18). How very grateful I am for the Atonement of Jesus Christ that makes it all possible. How appropriate that the very one who bore the weight of our sins will be the one standing next to us to plead in our behalf. At the same time, how very humbling-- how apt the mental image, that we will throw ourselves at his feet in gratitude and acknowledgement of his suffering for our sins. How shameful we may feel to admit that there were a few sins we clung to in this life, unwilling to repent as we have been commanded.
In our church, when we teach about final, eternal judgment, there are four general destinations or kingdoms. Three of those kingdoms are kingdoms of glory. The inhabitants of these kingdoms, ultimately have accepted Jesus Christ as their Savior and gratefully accept his role as Advocate with the Father. Murderers and other hardened criminal types, who nevertheless accept Christ, will find themselves in the telestial kingdom. Good people who lived decent lives, but weren't willing to exert themselves to do everything that God commands, who want to coast their way into heaven, will find themselves in the terrestrial kingdom. Truly committed individuals who submitted themselves to the Savior's rule, complying with every commandment to the best of their ability, and who truly desire to be full, contributing partners in the work of the Lord, will find themselves in the celestial kingdom. The fourth destination is reserved for those who reject Jesus Christ, even at the bar of God, who would rather spit in his face than accept his helping hand-- having chosen darkness over light, they will find themselves forever in the dark.
What I have been asking myself is this: Who do I (you) think will be most surprised to learn of their eternal destination?-- The person who is sentenced to Outer Darkness? The murderer who is allowed into a kingdom of glory-- yes, it will be the lowest kingdom, but it will still be a place of glory? The average Joe who knows he's been pretty good and really is just aiming to be like everyone else, i.e., who isn't looking for anything higher than that comfortable middle terrestrial kingdom. Will it be the person who assumes that they haven't done enough, weren't righteous enough, but finds themselves destined for the celestial (or highest) kingdom? OR, do you think the person who will be most surprised will be the one who cannot envision themselves anywhere BUT in that highest kingdom, the one who has judged themselves, finding fault with everyone else, but see themselves as completely guiltless. You know the type, the kind see themselves as so good, that they're not quite sure that they need Jesus' help at the bar. If they find themselves being sent to the terrestrial (i.e., middle) kingdom, instead of the celestial (highest) kingdom, what will be their response?
Superheroes understand that our eternal salvation requires our very best efforts to keep the commandments of God-- but that we cannot do it alone. Jesus Christ is there to bridge the gap between our efforts and the minimum entrance requirement-- but ONLY if we are willing to submit ourselves to his will, to follow his commands. I hope that my paltry efforts will be good enough. But I cannot envision the Judgment Day with anything but hope and joyous anticipation. I look forward to expressing my gratitude to the Savior for all that he has done for me. I'm also thankful to those wonderful people whose actions have served to prod my very best efforts so that I have hope that Jesus will greet me as friend and family.
What do you think?
This particular court appearance may be a little different than what we are familiar with here. I don't know whether Satan will actually be in attendance as prosecuting attorney. He probably won't need to be. Will there be any other detractors there to proclaim our guilt. Or... will we find ourselves faced with those unalterable memories hardwired into our brains that cannot lie, no matter how much we may wish to protest our innocence. In this life, we may be able to justify our actions to ourselves, or delude ourselves into believing that we haven't inflicted physical or mental or emotional damage on others. It won't matter whether our thoughts and actions were deliberate or unintentional. We will see the damage. I'm afraid we may find ourselves like an unwitting witness to the train wrecks we have caused during our lives-- unable to turn our eyes away from the disaster that we know will follow such actions.
Of course, we do have the promise that, if we repent, the slate will be wiped clean. Isaiah promises "[T]hough your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow" (Isaiah 1:18). How very grateful I am for the Atonement of Jesus Christ that makes it all possible. How appropriate that the very one who bore the weight of our sins will be the one standing next to us to plead in our behalf. At the same time, how very humbling-- how apt the mental image, that we will throw ourselves at his feet in gratitude and acknowledgement of his suffering for our sins. How shameful we may feel to admit that there were a few sins we clung to in this life, unwilling to repent as we have been commanded.
In our church, when we teach about final, eternal judgment, there are four general destinations or kingdoms. Three of those kingdoms are kingdoms of glory. The inhabitants of these kingdoms, ultimately have accepted Jesus Christ as their Savior and gratefully accept his role as Advocate with the Father. Murderers and other hardened criminal types, who nevertheless accept Christ, will find themselves in the telestial kingdom. Good people who lived decent lives, but weren't willing to exert themselves to do everything that God commands, who want to coast their way into heaven, will find themselves in the terrestrial kingdom. Truly committed individuals who submitted themselves to the Savior's rule, complying with every commandment to the best of their ability, and who truly desire to be full, contributing partners in the work of the Lord, will find themselves in the celestial kingdom. The fourth destination is reserved for those who reject Jesus Christ, even at the bar of God, who would rather spit in his face than accept his helping hand-- having chosen darkness over light, they will find themselves forever in the dark.
What I have been asking myself is this: Who do I (you) think will be most surprised to learn of their eternal destination?-- The person who is sentenced to Outer Darkness? The murderer who is allowed into a kingdom of glory-- yes, it will be the lowest kingdom, but it will still be a place of glory? The average Joe who knows he's been pretty good and really is just aiming to be like everyone else, i.e., who isn't looking for anything higher than that comfortable middle terrestrial kingdom. Will it be the person who assumes that they haven't done enough, weren't righteous enough, but finds themselves destined for the celestial (or highest) kingdom? OR, do you think the person who will be most surprised will be the one who cannot envision themselves anywhere BUT in that highest kingdom, the one who has judged themselves, finding fault with everyone else, but see themselves as completely guiltless. You know the type, the kind see themselves as so good, that they're not quite sure that they need Jesus' help at the bar. If they find themselves being sent to the terrestrial (i.e., middle) kingdom, instead of the celestial (highest) kingdom, what will be their response?
Superheroes understand that our eternal salvation requires our very best efforts to keep the commandments of God-- but that we cannot do it alone. Jesus Christ is there to bridge the gap between our efforts and the minimum entrance requirement-- but ONLY if we are willing to submit ourselves to his will, to follow his commands. I hope that my paltry efforts will be good enough. But I cannot envision the Judgment Day with anything but hope and joyous anticipation. I look forward to expressing my gratitude to the Savior for all that he has done for me. I'm also thankful to those wonderful people whose actions have served to prod my very best efforts so that I have hope that Jesus will greet me as friend and family.
What do you think?
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Pathology report
I know that I've already written today, but it seemed like too much to include the findings of the pathology report in the previous posting.
After the surgery, everything was sent to the lab where further biopsies were taken. The doctor fully expected that the results would be in on Tuesday-- but they weren't in. Her office staff have called me every day with the same refrain, "The results still aren't in." Dr. Reading called me herself about 6 p.m. this evening when they finally arrived.
Since nearly every test, except for the initial biopsy of the two lymph nodes, has failed to clearly establish that I have cancer, I've been wondering what the final results would be. I must admit that I have even wondered if the delay was because the doctors didn't want to have to tell me that I didn't really have cancer after all. I began to wonder if the initial biopsies were wrong-- and that I really was healthy.
Rest assured, I really and truly do have cancer-- and they are fairly certain that it's breast cancer. The surgeon removed 13 lymph nodes and 3 of them were definitely cancerous. What she also found (yes, even the pathologist is a woman) was that I did have cancer cells diffused throughout my left breast-- but they were tiny cells, the largest being 1.7 on whatever scale they use to establish size. It's because they were so tiny that they weren't showing up in the other tests-- but they were pervasive.
The other strange thing was that the cancer cells found in the breast did not match the cancer cells found in the lymph nodes. So she conducted additional tests to determine whether I had two different kinds of cancer, or if it was a single cancer with designer ambitions-- i.e., it had multiple "looks." She tested the cells from each location to see how they responded to various hormones, etc. Ultimately, she concluded that it was a single cancer because the cancer cells responded in identical ways.
Superheroes are willing to go the extra mile-- they aren't afraid to push themselves as they seek for answers to important questions. In this case, my life has been blessed because a caring pathologist took the time to come to a conclusion about my cancer. She had to have known that there were lots of us waiting to see her report, what kind of pressure might that have put on her-- the pressure to produce results. But, she was willing to hold back on delivering results until she was satisfied that she had an answer worth delivering. OH, how very, very grateful I am for her consideration, knowing that I would rather have the best answer she had to offer and not have to settle for just a good answer. Thanks!
After the surgery, everything was sent to the lab where further biopsies were taken. The doctor fully expected that the results would be in on Tuesday-- but they weren't in. Her office staff have called me every day with the same refrain, "The results still aren't in." Dr. Reading called me herself about 6 p.m. this evening when they finally arrived.
Since nearly every test, except for the initial biopsy of the two lymph nodes, has failed to clearly establish that I have cancer, I've been wondering what the final results would be. I must admit that I have even wondered if the delay was because the doctors didn't want to have to tell me that I didn't really have cancer after all. I began to wonder if the initial biopsies were wrong-- and that I really was healthy.
Rest assured, I really and truly do have cancer-- and they are fairly certain that it's breast cancer. The surgeon removed 13 lymph nodes and 3 of them were definitely cancerous. What she also found (yes, even the pathologist is a woman) was that I did have cancer cells diffused throughout my left breast-- but they were tiny cells, the largest being 1.7 on whatever scale they use to establish size. It's because they were so tiny that they weren't showing up in the other tests-- but they were pervasive.
The other strange thing was that the cancer cells found in the breast did not match the cancer cells found in the lymph nodes. So she conducted additional tests to determine whether I had two different kinds of cancer, or if it was a single cancer with designer ambitions-- i.e., it had multiple "looks." She tested the cells from each location to see how they responded to various hormones, etc. Ultimately, she concluded that it was a single cancer because the cancer cells responded in identical ways.
Superheroes are willing to go the extra mile-- they aren't afraid to push themselves as they seek for answers to important questions. In this case, my life has been blessed because a caring pathologist took the time to come to a conclusion about my cancer. She had to have known that there were lots of us waiting to see her report, what kind of pressure might that have put on her-- the pressure to produce results. But, she was willing to hold back on delivering results until she was satisfied that she had an answer worth delivering. OH, how very, very grateful I am for her consideration, knowing that I would rather have the best answer she had to offer and not have to settle for just a good answer. Thanks!
Mastectomy & follow up
Last Thursday (Sept. 3rd), Dr. Reading removed 13 lymph nodes and performed a modified mastectomy. Then Dr. Chen took over and attached the tissue expanders. I was released from the hospital on Friday and went home for a long weekend.
If anyone wonders if God hears and answers prayers, they can just look at me and see that the answer is a definitive YES! I haven't experienced overwhelming pain, but the pain medication that was prescribed has helped. I was allowed 2 pills every 6 hours, but have only taken 1-- and am now down to taking just one pill every 10 hours or so. I finished off the antibiotics yesterday.
Part of what amazes me is that I am feeling pretty good. I would have gone to church on Sunday, but I wasn't exactly sure how to hide the drains. I've got two thin tubes inserted in my underarm to drain fluid. The other end of each tube is attached to what looks like a clear plastic hand grenade. Periodically throughout the day, I have to empty the drains and "strip" the tubes (clear them of any fluid or debris). Since I couldn't go to church, I spent the day napping, reading the newspaper and my Scriptures and watching BYU-TV. I also took my first shower on Sunday with Mom's help.
I rested again on Monday, but decided on Monday evening that I could see no reason to stay home from work the next day. Fortunately I have an office to myself so I can be somewhat unobtrusive. I wear dark pants that are slightly baggy and loose shirt. I pin the drains to the waistband of my slacks and let the shirt cover it. The tubing still hangs down a bit, so I either tuck the tubes onto the inside of my pants, or I unpin the drains and hide them in a decorative bag that I'm carrying instead of a purse.
Because I'm kind of a wimp when it comes to being sick, believe me, I would stay home if I felt the need. I'm not allowed to do any lifting/carrying, pulling or pushing-- and, worse yet, I'm not allowed to drive a car for 2 weeks, so Mom has to drive me to work and pick me up at the end of the day. When she dropped me off on Monday, I told her that I might be calling her in an hour to come pick me up. As it was, I did overdo it a bit. About 4:10 p.m., I realized that I was tired and really needed to be home. In fact, I probably should have gone home at 3 p.m. But it's a 30-minute drive between my house and my office. Calling Mom and asking her to pick me up early wouldn't make much difference-- she'd only arrive about 10 minutes before our arranged pick up time anyway. So, I closed my door and laid down on the floor for the last 20 minutes.
I've probably shocked more than one medical person who has called to check up on me, only to be told that they would have to call my office. All I can keep repeating, is that I can see no reason to stay home. If I were home, I would want to be doing something, not just lie around the house-- so I might as well be at work doing something. I have to rely on others to be my arms and legs-- the books in a university library aren't always lightweight, and trying to maneuver book trucks is beyond what I am allowed to do. I don't stress out over arriving at 8 a.m., in fact, some mornings I don't arrive until 10-- but I get there and each day I feel a little stronger.
Superheroes aren't afraid to test their limits of their strength. While they may not overdo, they are at least willing to do. They understand that we lose what we don't use-- it's called atrophy. But, superheroes also understand that, when we are doing everything within our power, there is a higher power available to us who can help us go beyond our own strength-- We can look to Our Father in Heaven. When people of faith unite themselves to pray for a common goal, miracles truly take place!
I stand in awe at the way in which my life has been blessed! Who would have thought that I would be back to full days at work just 5 days after my surgery? How can I thank the many friends and family who have prayed in my behalf? I don't even know where to begin when it comes to thanking my Heavenly Father for the little daily miracles-- the tender mercies-- that are taking place in my life. I just keep repeating to those who know, "I'm feeling amazingly well-- and just can't think of a reason to stay home!"
If anyone wonders if God hears and answers prayers, they can just look at me and see that the answer is a definitive YES! I haven't experienced overwhelming pain, but the pain medication that was prescribed has helped. I was allowed 2 pills every 6 hours, but have only taken 1-- and am now down to taking just one pill every 10 hours or so. I finished off the antibiotics yesterday.
Part of what amazes me is that I am feeling pretty good. I would have gone to church on Sunday, but I wasn't exactly sure how to hide the drains. I've got two thin tubes inserted in my underarm to drain fluid. The other end of each tube is attached to what looks like a clear plastic hand grenade. Periodically throughout the day, I have to empty the drains and "strip" the tubes (clear them of any fluid or debris). Since I couldn't go to church, I spent the day napping, reading the newspaper and my Scriptures and watching BYU-TV. I also took my first shower on Sunday with Mom's help.
I rested again on Monday, but decided on Monday evening that I could see no reason to stay home from work the next day. Fortunately I have an office to myself so I can be somewhat unobtrusive. I wear dark pants that are slightly baggy and loose shirt. I pin the drains to the waistband of my slacks and let the shirt cover it. The tubing still hangs down a bit, so I either tuck the tubes onto the inside of my pants, or I unpin the drains and hide them in a decorative bag that I'm carrying instead of a purse.
Because I'm kind of a wimp when it comes to being sick, believe me, I would stay home if I felt the need. I'm not allowed to do any lifting/carrying, pulling or pushing-- and, worse yet, I'm not allowed to drive a car for 2 weeks, so Mom has to drive me to work and pick me up at the end of the day. When she dropped me off on Monday, I told her that I might be calling her in an hour to come pick me up. As it was, I did overdo it a bit. About 4:10 p.m., I realized that I was tired and really needed to be home. In fact, I probably should have gone home at 3 p.m. But it's a 30-minute drive between my house and my office. Calling Mom and asking her to pick me up early wouldn't make much difference-- she'd only arrive about 10 minutes before our arranged pick up time anyway. So, I closed my door and laid down on the floor for the last 20 minutes.
I've probably shocked more than one medical person who has called to check up on me, only to be told that they would have to call my office. All I can keep repeating, is that I can see no reason to stay home. If I were home, I would want to be doing something, not just lie around the house-- so I might as well be at work doing something. I have to rely on others to be my arms and legs-- the books in a university library aren't always lightweight, and trying to maneuver book trucks is beyond what I am allowed to do. I don't stress out over arriving at 8 a.m., in fact, some mornings I don't arrive until 10-- but I get there and each day I feel a little stronger.
Superheroes aren't afraid to test their limits of their strength. While they may not overdo, they are at least willing to do. They understand that we lose what we don't use-- it's called atrophy. But, superheroes also understand that, when we are doing everything within our power, there is a higher power available to us who can help us go beyond our own strength-- We can look to Our Father in Heaven. When people of faith unite themselves to pray for a common goal, miracles truly take place!
I stand in awe at the way in which my life has been blessed! Who would have thought that I would be back to full days at work just 5 days after my surgery? How can I thank the many friends and family who have prayed in my behalf? I don't even know where to begin when it comes to thanking my Heavenly Father for the little daily miracles-- the tender mercies-- that are taking place in my life. I just keep repeating to those who know, "I'm feeling amazingly well-- and just can't think of a reason to stay home!"
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
D-Day
Superheroes don't have to stand alone. Batman has Robin (and Alfred the trusty butler), Superman had the Kent family, who took him in as a baby, and Lois Lane among others. Superheroes count themselves blessed to have a support system.
The tests are in... and I'm still looking healthy. Except for the lymph node biopsies that were definitively metastatic cancer, one might think I'm healthy. The PET scan came out clean, the MRI and breast biopsy were inconclusive. The surgeon even took my case to their group discussion last week. The overwhelming concensus is that she should do a mastectomy on my left breast, as well as remove the cancerous lymph nodes. And that's what I've decided to do... tomorrow!
Dr. Reading has been amazing. She wanted me to take my time, she offered to set up appointments so that I could get a second opinion, counseling to help me explore my options, and more! But, I still feel like this is the beginning of the journey, not the end-- and the mastectomy decision just feels right. It has been a matter of prayer, but more importantly a matter of comfort and I'm ready to move forward. My mother thinks I should explore alternative medicine options; actually she has probably been more upset about my decision than anyone else.
I met with the plastic surgeon yesterday and it was another amazing experience. When Dr. Reading finishes with the mastectomy this afternoon (it's after midnight, so the surgery is technically today), Dr. Chen will perform a procedure that will be the first step toward reconstruction. She's encouraging me to think about what I want my body to look like as a finished product. She says I can have anything I want. The actual reconstruction surgery won't take place for another 6 months or so because I will do chemotherapy, etc. first.
I thought the goal was to replace something that was lost-- but she says I don't need to stop there. She also explained the kind of surgery she will perform. I'm counting this as another blessing.
The people in my neighborhood/ward have been wonderful as well. I think I knew people generally liked me-- in that "Hi-how're you doing-what's new" kind of way. I'm already overwhelmed at the sacrifices people are willing to make in my behalf. I'm almost afraid to start making a list of the blessings that are popping up right and left, mostly in the form of friends stepping forward to help out.
Among the blessings for which I'm thankful... amazing doctors and how the practice of medicine has changed in the last 23 years. I thought my doctor then was kind and supportive-- everyone I've encountered so far this time around has not only met his standard, but maybe even exceeded it.
I'd hate to start counting neighbors and friends because I would be afraid I'd miss someone. So let's count just a few of the services people have offered to perform: Drive me to the hospital. Pick me up from the hospital. Visit me in the hospital even though I'll only be there overnight. Bring me my favorite treats. Bring in meals for Mom, Dad and me. Visit me at home after I get out. Pray in my behalf. Take me to doctor appointments. Stay with Dad so that Mom can go with me. Babysit Sammie, the Flying Wonder Dog, and visiting children (relatives), so that Mom or Mari could go with me to appointments. Referrals to their doctors and oncologists, i.e., people that they trust and have trusted with their own lives, so that I can get the best possible care.
These have not been idle words. Even though my surgery isn't until tomorrow, many have already performed these services. To be perfectly honest, it is extremely humbling. What have I ever done in my life to deserve this outpouring of love. How can I ever express my gratitude to them.
Thanks to everyone!! May you be amply rewarded for all of the love and the kindnesses that have been extended to me and to my family. You're GREAT!!!
The tests are in... and I'm still looking healthy. Except for the lymph node biopsies that were definitively metastatic cancer, one might think I'm healthy. The PET scan came out clean, the MRI and breast biopsy were inconclusive. The surgeon even took my case to their group discussion last week. The overwhelming concensus is that she should do a mastectomy on my left breast, as well as remove the cancerous lymph nodes. And that's what I've decided to do... tomorrow!
Dr. Reading has been amazing. She wanted me to take my time, she offered to set up appointments so that I could get a second opinion, counseling to help me explore my options, and more! But, I still feel like this is the beginning of the journey, not the end-- and the mastectomy decision just feels right. It has been a matter of prayer, but more importantly a matter of comfort and I'm ready to move forward. My mother thinks I should explore alternative medicine options; actually she has probably been more upset about my decision than anyone else.
I met with the plastic surgeon yesterday and it was another amazing experience. When Dr. Reading finishes with the mastectomy this afternoon (it's after midnight, so the surgery is technically today), Dr. Chen will perform a procedure that will be the first step toward reconstruction. She's encouraging me to think about what I want my body to look like as a finished product. She says I can have anything I want. The actual reconstruction surgery won't take place for another 6 months or so because I will do chemotherapy, etc. first.
I thought the goal was to replace something that was lost-- but she says I don't need to stop there. She also explained the kind of surgery she will perform. I'm counting this as another blessing.
The people in my neighborhood/ward have been wonderful as well. I think I knew people generally liked me-- in that "Hi-how're you doing-what's new" kind of way. I'm already overwhelmed at the sacrifices people are willing to make in my behalf. I'm almost afraid to start making a list of the blessings that are popping up right and left, mostly in the form of friends stepping forward to help out.
Among the blessings for which I'm thankful... amazing doctors and how the practice of medicine has changed in the last 23 years. I thought my doctor then was kind and supportive-- everyone I've encountered so far this time around has not only met his standard, but maybe even exceeded it.
I'd hate to start counting neighbors and friends because I would be afraid I'd miss someone. So let's count just a few of the services people have offered to perform: Drive me to the hospital. Pick me up from the hospital. Visit me in the hospital even though I'll only be there overnight. Bring me my favorite treats. Bring in meals for Mom, Dad and me. Visit me at home after I get out. Pray in my behalf. Take me to doctor appointments. Stay with Dad so that Mom can go with me. Babysit Sammie, the Flying Wonder Dog, and visiting children (relatives), so that Mom or Mari could go with me to appointments. Referrals to their doctors and oncologists, i.e., people that they trust and have trusted with their own lives, so that I can get the best possible care.
These have not been idle words. Even though my surgery isn't until tomorrow, many have already performed these services. To be perfectly honest, it is extremely humbling. What have I ever done in my life to deserve this outpouring of love. How can I ever express my gratitude to them.
Thanks to everyone!! May you be amply rewarded for all of the love and the kindnesses that have been extended to me and to my family. You're GREAT!!!
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