Tag: #normal

You Don’t Surprise God by Your Weaknesses.

Holy Week was a lot different this year.  With the shelter in place order in effect, all non-essential businesses closed, and no live services being offered; things have been really different.  To be honest, the first time I fully participated in Holy Week was in 2019.   It was in Connecticut.  My husband and I went to visit a friend during the Easter break.  He had never been there, and I had not seen my friend Rose in a while. 

While I had been embracing my faith and diving deeper into it, I had never participated in the Easter Triduum.  That all changed last year.  Rose took us to the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday and the celebration of the Lord’s Passion and veneration of the cross on Good Friday.  It was an amazing experience and I had been looking forward to celebrating the Easter Triduum this year. 

But in mid-March, life as we know it, changed.  Everything closed down, everything was cancelled.  When they stopped religious services, my heart sank.  Fortunately, our Diocese began providing several outlets for daily mass. Most of the local parishes are celebrating virtual mass and Fr. Michael Gossett, our own high school  chaplain, celebrates mass daily on Facebook, Instagram and YouTube.  Our high school campus ministry efforts (in conjunction with our high school chaplain) have gone really gone the distance in providing avenues for both students and staff to stay connected with one another and share our faith.  Aside from daily mass, there are Ms. McManus Mondays which is a time of prayer, reflection, discussion, and music with Molly McManus,  the Campus Minister as well as Fr. Gossett Fridays which is a time of discussion, prayer and reflection with Fr. Michael. While those sessions are primarily for the students, faculty and staff typically join in as well.  They have also led virtual Stations of the Cross during Lent which involved students and staff and had a virtual Holy Hour complete with music and reflection.

Wednesday Adoration in the chapel at CCHS

Even with all of these outlets, sometimes it is difficult to make time for God, to practice your faith, to pray; because, well, things are different.  There are days that I don’t even get dressed until after lunch.  When you are working from home, you can work in your pajamas.  And while I have attended virtual daily mass with Fr. Gossett every day of the “shut down” (usually in pajamas);  I have gotten out of the habit of praying morning prayer and of reading the daily reflections.  It just wasn’t as convenient anymore, so I gradually stopped doing it.  I know that might not make sense, if anything you would think that one has more time for prayer during this pandemic.  But I am a creature of habit and I pray morning prayer and read the reflections before mass, while I am sitting in the chapel or church.  It was difficult to take that time or make that space for prayer when attending mass remotely. 

I have been reading quite a bit during our shelter in place.

Each day I told myself, I will start again tomorrow.  And each day I would fail.  I was embarrassed by weakness and my lack of commitment to pray in the morning before mass.  Then on Wednesday evening, April 8th, I tuned into the virtual Holy Hour.  It was during that Holy Hour, which was led by Ms. Molly McManus, I had a revelation.  As she began the Holy Hour she said, “You don’t surprise God by your weaknesses.”  I don’t think she has any idea just how much I needed to hear that. 

I had been feeling guilty about my lack of commitment, my lack of resolve, my ability to carve out space in the morning for prayer, about my overall weakness.  I had been wondering just what God thought about all of that, was He disappointed, or angry, or upset, or frustrated.  And then Molly (Ms. McManus) said that phrase, “You don’t surprise God by your weaknesses.” And I realized that God already knows all of my weaknesses, that He is not surprised, or disappointed, or angry, or upset, or frustrated.  Jesus died for me and you and as Fr. Michael reminds us often, Jesus would do it all again just for me (or just for you) if it was necessary.  Nothing surprises Him; and nothing changes His love for us. That is pretty amazing!

Moonlight behind the new fence my husband has constructed during the pandemic.

So today, don’t worry about surprising God, because you can’t. Be thankful for all of the good that has come out of the “different” in which we currently live.  And please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you. 

Last Time for Everything

Monday February 24, 2020 will mark three weeks since I had unilateral mastectomy to treat breast cancer.  The month of February has been filled appointments, surgeries, procedures, and emotions.  It has been a lot to process and take in, but Monday February 3rd, was a pivotal point.  I was scheduled for an early morning mastectomy followed by reconstructive surgery. 

They had moved the surgery up; I was originally scheduled to have the procedure begin at noon.  Just few days before the surgery, they called and said they would begin at 7am, and I needed to be at the hospital at 5am.  We live 2.5 hours from the hospital.  Thankfully, my brother and sister-in-law live close to The James Cancer Center.  We drove out on Sunday evening, watched the Super Bowl (well, most of it) with them, and spent the night.  My brother got up before dawn on Monday morning to drive us to the hospital.  (As you can tell, I have a pretty great family)

My constant companions during my recovery

That morning was kind of surreal. I had to fast because of the anesthesia, so I had no coffee. And anyone who knows me knows that was a challenge. We arrived just before 5am, and the registration room was quite full. The only thing I could think of was that all the people in that room were dealing with cancer as either a patient, caregiver, family member or friend. That, in and of itself, was a lot to take in. And I am constantly reminded of that every time I go for a follow-up visit. Every person in every office is dealing with cancer in some way, shape, or form. (if you could just take a moment to please pray for all of those dealing with cancer)

That morning was one of the longest mornings of my life.  From the pre-op preparations to the litany of questions, from being poked and prodded to lying in a hospital bed in nothing but a hospital gown; I have never felt more vulnerable.  I was sure they were never going to do the surgery, because it felt like I had been there for hours. In reality it might have been an hour between the time they took me back for pre-op and the time they wheeled me in for surgery.

But I knew things were going to be moving along quickly once the oncological surgeon and the plastic surgeon came to see me.  They began with a sentinel node biopsy, a procedure for which they use no anesthesia.  The reason is that the anesthesia will feel the same as the injection for the biopsy, so there really is no need.  Let’s just say the last thing that I ever felt on my right side was an incredibly sharp stabbing pain followed by intense burning.  When I mention to the doctor that “that really hurt!”  He replied, “you didn’t even flinch”.  I remarked that just because I didn’t flinch, it didn’t mean that I didn’t feel it.  I felt it.   That was the last thing I ever felt on the right side of my chest.

Shortly after the biopsy, they wheeled me back to surgery. As I hoisted myself from the bed to the operating table, the anesthesiologist inquired about the tattoo on my back, I told him it was memorial to my father, who had passed away two years ago this March. He liked it and was hoping to get memorial tattoo of his own. Shortly after that conversation, I was asleep.

I woke up in recovery about 6 or 7 hours later (the surgery was 4 or 5 hours).  The nurse in recovery asked me about the tattoo on my left shoulder when I woke up, but I was so groggy and incoherent, I couldn’t even answer him.  I could only ask for ice chips because I was so thirsty.  I was in and out of consciousness in recovery and when I was finally coherent, they took me back to my room where my husband was waiting for me.  To say that it was an emotional moment would be an understatement.  He has been there for me through all of this.

After a follow-up visit.

They kept me overnight. By noon the following day, I was released to go home. I have been recovering ever since. While I was prepared for a long, painful recovery, I have been pleasantly surprised by the recuperation process. I have not been able to drive since I have had surgery, nor have I been able to go to work, or workout, or cook. So being without those things has been a challenge. I tend to tire more easily right now, and I am sore and deal with muscle spasms. But that has really been the extent of my recovery. I had been expecting more pain, more discomfort, more exhaustion. I had also been expecting to feel depression and isolation afterwards. I am grateful that I have not experienced all those things that I thought I would; the negative emotions, the grief, the sadness, the depression and the pain associated with a mastectomy. It is truly a blessing.

  • I have been catching up on my reading during my recovery.

And while resting and recovering has been a bit of challenge (I’m not really good at taking it easy), I have been able to work from home and to walk on the treadmill.  I have had people offer to drive me anywhere that I might need to go.  And just this past weekend, I took someone up on that offer and attended a reunion meeting.  Trust me when I say that was big deal.  I needed the entire next day to recover because it did wear me out.  I also began cooking again this past week – just a couple of meals, because, yes cooking is a challenge.  I never realized just how much you use your pectoralis muscles for everyday movements…all of those movements that I took for granted. 

I go back again this week for another follow-up appointment. The results of each appointment have been encouraging. I did find out during the first follow-up that there were two areas of invasive cancer hidden beyond the DCIS. They believe they got it all, so my treatment will not require chemotherapy or radiation, only anti-cancer meds for the next ten years. Yet another blessing.

Had I not gone to the James for a second opinion, I would have gone forward with the original plan of action – a lumpectomy. The lumpectomy would not have revealed the invasive cancer because they would have only removed the identified cancerous area. The invasive cancer was in another area and was found when they biopsied the entire mass. My friend, who encouraged me to seek a second option; I credit her with saving my life because the invasive cancer would have gone undetected. And the fact that it was invasive says it all.

When this whole journey began in the middle of 2019, I never thought it would lead me down this path.  Cancer was something with which I ever expected to be diagnosed. I mean, I watch what I eat, I exercise, I don’t smoke, I get regular checkups; I was doing everything I was supposed to do to lead a healthy lifestyle. And I didn’t have a family history of breast cancer.  It is a mystery how I developed breast cancer.  But this journey has fostered such a feeling of gratitude and the realization that there is a last time for everything. 

2019 encapsulated a lot of last times for me. 2019 was the last time I was ever going to be normal; it was life before I had cancer. I was sure life would not look normal for me again – ever. I could not have been more incorrect. Each day is a step closer to my new normal. And while there have been a lot of last times, there are going be a lot of new beginnings. Some of those new beginnings actually started because I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Some of the many flowers I received. They really brighted my day.

Thank you to everyone who has prayed for me, sent me notes, letters, cards, emails and texts.  Thank you to those people who made meals, sent flowers and gifts, called, and visited.  Thank you to everyone who understood when I didn’t want to talk, or have visitors, or change out of sweatpants.  Thank you for all the ways each of you have made this a journey of grace and mercy for me.

This quote means a lot and has helped me focus on what is important and reminds me that God is in control.

Brad Paisley’s song Last Time for Everything has become one of my favorite songs.  While there is a last time for everything, last times are also opportunities for new beginnings.  But even with all of the blessings that came from it; I am hoping that this is the last time that I will be diagnosed with cancer.

Today, celebrate everything because it just may be the last time, and welcome the new beginnings that await you. Today, please pray for me and I will pray for you.