December 28th musings

It's December 28th, the year rapidly coming to an end . When I sat at this point last year in 2011, I had no inkling to the events that would transpire in this year. All I knew was the assurance that God was my refuge and strength... I don't remember exactly what I felt on this day last year, but in a journal entry on Christmas morning, 2011, I praised God for coming to earth, so that I could see glimpses of His glory. "You became poor," I wrote, "so I could become rich." Not rich in monetary things, of course, but rich in love, blessings, family, hope.

Now a year later, I have seen more of God's glory, experience more of God's love, journeyed a difficult road, felt terrified, sick, tired, but never hopeless. I knew God was right there alongside me, every single step of the way. I have seen more of His glory.

Psalm 46:1-3

God is our refuge and strength,

    an ever-present help in trouble.

² 

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way

    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,

³ 

though its waters roar and foam

    and the mountains quake with their surging. 

Last year, I had no idea what 2012 had in store for me. Had I known, even a glimpse of it, I would have been paralyzed with fear. Yet, God walked me through each day, each moment, and gave me refuge and strength for each day. 

As I sit on the brink of another year, I have no idea what things are in store for me, for my family, my friends. I know we'll go through difficult times--what year is without that? I know we'll laugh and joke and live life. I know there will be tears and fears and pain. I also know, without a shadow of doubt, that God will provide our strength, our refuge, our ever-present help in trouble. And no matter what happens, we will see a bit more of His glory, a glimpse of heaven, and remember that this is not our home.

Before I end, I'll give a quick update on my health. I'm thankful that I've successfully navigated my first cold. I have a bit of stuffiness left, but nothing that a few days, some healthy food, exercise and rest will clear up. As I sniffled away the last couple of days, I was again reminded how God protected me from illness during my weakest moments, the times when an infection could have grown out of control. I am encouraged how well my body responded to this cold. I never thought of a cold as good before, but this one was. It's a sign that I'm actually getting better!

Merry Christmas

It's sort of ironic that this Christmas, which should have focused on celebrating health and end of hard treatments, was spent being sick and around sick people. Yet, having a normal cold, not having my fever spike, being able to get away for a few days--even though that's how we all got sick-- actually means I am getting back to normal. And it feels good.

Last night as I was sitting in church, surrounded by my sweet kids with Walt and his mom behind us, I thanked God that we were there. Ben wasn't feeling well, so he leaned his head on my shoulder as we sang Silent Night and listened to the sweet flute choir. At the end of the service, our new worship director sang a beautiful rendition of Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. As the song ended, Ben looked up at me and asked, "Are those tear from your plugs or real tears?"

I smiled at his question and said, "Real tears, Ben." And I was proud of them, too! 

After the service, we went to Boston's for Christmas Eve dinner. They had a drawing and our table won the free dinners! We left our waitress a big tip and headed home to open up Christmas Eve  pajama presents. Ben seemed to feel a bit better after getting a little food in him, but Becca started feeling worse. This morning Nathan woke up with a sore throat and fever. Walt also has a low-grade fever and cough. My throat began to hurt this morning and by late afternoon I was feeling chilled. I took my temperature and it was 100 degrees. I forgot to ask Dr. Kohn if I was in danger of infection when I saw her on Thursday, but since she isn't running blood tests on me right now, I have to think that she believes my blood counts have improved. Nonetheless, having a fever can be worrisome, so Walt and I prayed that it wouldn't get any higher. I took Tylenol before dinner and other than a stuffy nose and feeling very tired, I am doing okay. I'm praying that it's a normal cold that I'll recover from in the next couple of days and can chalk it up to life as usual.

I switched my Friday doctor's appointment and Herceptin to Thursday so we could get away to Chelan for a few days. Although the clinic was extremely busy, they were able to squeeze me in. If I couldn't have made that switch, we wouldn't have gone. It was our family's first getaway since my cancer diagnosis in April. We met two other families there and had a blast. When we walked in on Friday, though, we were greeted by really sick people. I had thoughts of turning around or even isolating ourselves in the other condo away from the germs. Yet, smart or not, we wanted to enjoy hanging out with our friends, share meals and play games. I think it was worth it, but I'll let you know when this sickness runs its course through our family. Tomorrow I don't have anything to do, so I'll watch movies and read books. Sounds pretty fun actually.

Here's wishing you all a very merry Christmas!

My Last Radiation Treatment!

I lay on the table today, tears forming in my eyes as I thanked God for sustaining me through 35 radiation treatments and a simulation. I looked up at the stars painted on the ceiling and praised God. Just as He knows how many real stars are in the universe, He knows where any leftover cancer cells are in my body. I confidently prayed that He would either use these treatments or His own hand to take care of me. He has gently walked alongside me during these long months of diagnosis, biopsies, surgeries, chemo, and radiation. I still have several months of Herceptin infusions before me, but the hard part is over. And it's all finished before Christmas.

He determines the number of the stars

and calls them each by name.

Great is our Lord and mighty in power;

his understanding has no limit. (Psalm 147: 4-5)

Today, after my final radiation was administered, Janeth and Nicole let out a loud cheer. (I thought until today that Janeth's name was Janet.) They came in and presented me with a Certificate of Completion. It was signed by the technicians,  nurse, and Dr. Hunter. They all wrote nice little notes.  For instance, Nicole wrote: "Congratulations Linda! It was a pleasure to be part of your treatment team and to get to know you.  I wish you all the best and will continue to keep you in my thoughts and prayers. Have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Take care and God bless :-) Nicole." Nicole was amazing throughout my time here, sharing about her little boy or asking me questions about my life. I will miss seeing her and Janeth every day.

Dr. Hunter wrote: "Congratulations on the successful completion of your course of radiation therapy. I feel genuinely privileged to have participated in your care and wish you all the best! Warm regards, Michael Hunter, MD." I saw him for my last appointment during treatment last Wednesday, and I'll see him one more time in January for a follow up. As his writing revealed, he is an incredible doctor, and I've been privileged to be his patient. My treatment will now be passed back to Dr. Kohn, who will quarterback all my followups from this point forward.

Going back to the certificate, all the pictures included on the certificate were items Nicole and Janeth and I talked about during treatment. They knew I home schooled, so they included teacher pictures. I usually had a book with me, so there's a picture of a stack of books. In one conversation about bike riding, I mentioned riding in the STP (Seattle to Portland) bike ride. They put that on it. My favorite is the picture of women hanging out and drinking coffee, because now that my daily treatments are over, I might be able to squeeze in a chat with friends over coffee again. Nicole wanted to make sure I saw the words, "Good Job!!!" ;)  It is our little joke, of course, from the time she forgot to tell me I did a good job and they made up for it every day afterwards. I was touched by their thoughtfulness throughout my treatments, and this was frosting on the cake.

As I left, Janeth told me to take home a little tree. A former patient donated them for all the current patients. Here is it, nicely decorating my front porch.

Tomorrow I visit my ophthalmologist to get my tear duct plugs removed. Before that, I'm going to celebrate the end of this part of the journey with a few friends over brunch. On Wednesday, Walt's mom arrives for Christmas. Then on Thursday I see Dr. Kohn and receive my last Herceptin of this year.  They were able to move this appointment up a day so that my family could make an impromptu trip to Lake Chelan for a few days. We'll be back home on Christmas Eve because we don't want to miss our church's Christmas Eve service. It'll be busy between now and Friday, but I can't wait to be in Chelan and just relax. This will be the first get away for Walt and I since this all started, and I will savor every moment of it!

First Radiation Boost

Today went quicker than expected. I had prepared Nathan for the possibility that he could be in the study hall the whole hour after his last class. I had no idea how long today's appointment would take. Probably because I prepared for the worse, the appointment went quickly.

My early Christmas present was that I didn't need a final tattoo. Suffice it to say, a sticker works better in the particular area where a tattoo would have gone. Janet crudely drew an outline of Argentina on my skin, which is my new field of radiation. Dr. Hunter said that, as he's mentioned before, I'm probably cured, but if the cancer were to come back, it would most likely come back in the area where the original tumor was. So, the technician draws a field about three inches long around this site. While the original radiation used photon beams (x-rays) , this boost radiation uses electrons. The electrons allow for a more targeted, shallower range so less tissue is involved. On the drive home, Nathan explained to me what he learned from last year's physical science class on protons, neutrons and electrons. He would get such a kick out of seeing the radiation equipment and watching how they measure and run the machines.

Once everything was set up with exact measurements, I was drawn on a bit more and remeasured, and then Nicole took a film. This time I knew it happened only because of the sound of the machine. Then the treatment started. I knew the machine was running because of the buzzing sound, but I felt out of the loop. When I first started radiation, I was disappointed and a bit worried about having to use the breathing technique each time. Today I sort of missed it. Before I felt like I was participating in the treatment that was going to keep cancer away. Today I was more of a passive observer, letting the technicians communicate and run the machines without my involvement. Okay, the beautifully painted ceiling with twinkling stars was nice to enjoy as I lay on the table, I must admit. Since I only have eight more visits, I think I can handle hanging out under the stars and not worry about anything. Or I could work on my to-do lists in my head. Or think of scripture. Maybe sing some Christmas songs. Yup, I think it'll be just fine.

Only Nine More

Today was my last time I needed to hold my breath for treatment, so goodbye goggles, sensor box taped to my stomach, and films to verify that my  heart is out of the field of radiation. My techs have gone overboard in praising me each day when I'm finished (after they forgot one time). Today Nicole told me that was the last time I was going to be praised. She joked that she could tell me something like, "Good job not holding your breath." I answered that I'll just have to get my affirmations somewhere else.

 My understanding is tomorrow my doctor will mark the area where the tumor was and my remaining treatments will be targeted to this one area. I have no other details of how these final "boosts" will affect my skin, why it's needed or how treatment will go, so I'll let you know as I know.

Today as I was driving to the hospital, I thought of the lady I met on the day of my simulation who only had 10 treatments left. I remember her saying how quickly the weeks went, and I only half believed her. I can honestly say that this time has flown by. Maybe I'm secretly hoping time will slow down because when I'm finished, it'll be a week away from Christmas and I have way too much to do before that. On the other hand, I sure could use more time in my afternoon, so not driving into the hospital every day will help in that regard.

So far, I continue to fair well through radiation. My skin is sore, like a sunburn would be, but for most of the day it is hardly noticeable. My fatigue creeps up on me earlier each day. I feel like a two-year-old without an afternoon nap. I get grumpy and can't handle noise or too much activity. My mind has a hard time thinking clearly, similar to what happens if I stayed up way past my bedtime (even though it's only 8 or 9 pm).  I find myself retreating to the quiet of our bedroom. It beats getting angry at the kids or upset over things out of my control. I'm trying to stay up a little longer at night, though, so I can sleep more soundly when I do go to bed.

A bit of an update about my hair. I am getting a dark five o'clock shadow over my head. It looks like it's coming in dark, so maybe I won't be as gray as I feared. It's also covering my entire head, so hopefully any concern that the Taxotere will prevent my hair from coming back won't happen. My current hairstyle reminds me of Demi Moore's hair when she was in GI Jane, only a bit  shorter and lighter.

Unlike Walt's five o'clock shadow on his face, my hair is coming in really soft. Becca mentioned it's probably because it wasn't shaved. I think she's right. I can't wait to see what it'll look like when it's longer. It's hard waiting for hair, but I'm thankful that it will eventually grow back.