Last week, our youngest dog, Bailey, had to have surgery to repair a cruciate ligament injury. Yes, I know she is a dog. Yes, I know the surgery is expensive. While people have been very supportive in their responses to this information, I know there are some who are probably wondering why we would invest so much in a dog. I will answer that question later.
Bailey, after one of her many doctor’s appointments to find out what was ailing her. We were getting a pup cup.
We had to drop Bay off for surgery on Tuesday morning. I will admit that I almost cried leaving her at MedVet Pittsburgh, but I knew Dr. Snow and her staff would take great care of her. I also knew if Bailey was going to return to her active level of exuberance, joy, and craziness (I call her Crazy Train), this surgery was absolutely necessary. Bailey is one of our hiking/backpacking dogs. Since her injury, including her inability to take long walks, let alone hike, she has been visibly depressed. (yes, doggie depression is a real thing). And she had to stay overnight.
Bailey, after her surgery.
Fortunately, we spent Tuesday evening at our son’s house, having dinner and then doing a little shopping for home improvements with him. That kept my mind off of Bailey, who, by that time, had come through surgery with flying colors but was in ICU recovery for the night. The team sent us pictures of her following her surgery and called with updates. She was monitored throughout the night. They would call in the morning, letting us know when we could pick her up.
Some of my distractions
By Wednesday morning, both my husband and I were ready to get Bay. And her canine siblings were beside themselves with worry. They had no idea why we left with Bailey and then returned without her. Each dog thoroughly searched and searched the house and vehicles for her, to no avail.
She was quite tired when she first came home
Dr. Snow called by 8:30 a.m., and we picked Bailey up at 10 a.m. We had thorough training on what to expect, how to care for her post-surgery, when to administer her medications, and even how to help with rehabilitation and administer PT. We were told that she was the best patient they had ever had. I’m not surprised. She is such a good dog.
Tux, the cat, checking on her black and white sister
Because she needed to wear an e-collar whenever she was not monitored, we made every effort to be with her. She has been with us 24/7 since she came home. We have even adjusted how we sleep so that she does not have to wear the cone of shame. My husband and I have taken to sleeping on an air mattress on the floor with her between us. We split our time during the day, so she is never alone. And our other dogs are so happy that she is back in the pack. I think they even know that she is recovering and are quite gentle with her.
Feeling a bit better
I share all of this because this is what love looks like in our family. And the dogs, all of them, including our sons’ dogs, are part of our family. Love looks like doing what is best for another in need (including your dog). Love looks like distracting your mom, so she doesn’t worry. Love looks like sleeping on the floor. Love looks like the treats that your own mother brought over for the recovering patient and her siblings. Love looks like the phone calls we got checking on Bailey. You can find love everywhere if you look. It’s not too hard to see love in action.
Love looks like a lot of different things to a lot of different people. But what real, true, unconditional love really looks like is Christ on the cross dying for the sins of all. You and me, even those who don’t yet know Him and even those who don’t want to know Him [but Jesus hopes (as do I) that they will come to].
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16
So today, show some love to someone else. It can be a kind word, a phone call, an invitation, a hug, an email, a text, a meal, a note, or your time. It can be a hello to a stranger, a wave to your neighbor, giving the old lady your seat, or letting the frantic young man ahead of you in line. Love is limitless. And today, show me some love; please pray for me. I will continue to pray for you.
Anyone who knows me well knows that a daily workout is a serious part of my life. In fact, my husband can tell the days that I do not workout. I am much grouchier on those days. This is true. I know that and I accept that and I try desperately to work out every day. It is just good for my physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health. And it is just good for the general well-being of others who have to deal with me.
Ready for a workout
Unfortunately, shoulder surgery has ground my exercise routine to a screeching halt. There is little I can do, other than walk. Depending on the speed and incline, that can even be a challenge. I have started PT, which is primarily assisted PT, but have been told it will be quite some time before I am cleared for other exercises (ie. weight training). Insert big sigh here.
I have lost quite a bit of muscle since surgery
And while my exercise has suffered these last few weeks, my prayer life has flourished. I have had ample time to talk with God, and on some occasions, I may have yelled at Him. My day starts with the Bible app, including the verse of the day and a guided prayer. It continues with reading portions of the bible then a devotional reading (I am currently doing a 21-day devotional on Psalm 91). At one point in my life, I did attend daily morning mass. My current job does not permit that, but does allow me to participate in morning prayer. However, as I am recovering, I am working remotely. I am not permitted to drive while arm is in the sling. Then throughout the day, it may include a rosary, the divine mercy chaplet, and other prayers. But those aren’t always part of my day.
Psalm 91
I was reading a reflection that talks about how we take so much in our lives for granted, that we forget to thank God for the little things. Like the ability to work out, a run in the crisp air right before dawn, a walk through nature, watching the sunrise, spending time with our spouse, our families, our friends. But we also take our faith for granted. The things that we think will always be readily available to us.
Hiking/backpacking is one of my favorite activities
We need to thank God for those things because we may not always be able to work out, run or walk. Someday, we may lose our eyesight. Our spouse, our families, and our friends may not always be around. And our faith is just something that I think we tend to forget about or overlook. I often treat my faith as an afterthought. We fail to attend mass because we’re tired or don’t care for the priest, or don’t want to be bothered. Or maybe we don’t go because we are mad at the Catholic Church (this has happened a lot lately and this is when we need to pray the most). We don’t pray because we don’t have time or don’t think God really hears us. When we do this, when we make excuses; we take our faith for granted. We don’t feed it; we don’t give it an opportunity to grow. And that is really when we need prayer the most.
Looking forward to the backpacking adventures that await us in 2023
It spoke to me because I do take all of those things for granted. I expect to come home everyday and work out. I expect to be able to run on the treadmill whenever I feel so inspired, or take the dogs for walk at a whim. I expect to see the sunrise each morning. I expect that my husband will be there to go on adventures with me. I expect that my family will always be around and that my friends will be available when I most need them. And I expect God to be there always, even when I haven’t talked to him in a very long time. And even though I take my faith for granted, the really beautiful thing is that God will always be there. Especially when we think He isn’t.
So today take time to thank God, be grateful for everything in your life and don’t take anything for granted. And today, please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you.
Exactly one week ago, I had shoulder surgery. In fact, it was scheduled at 10:40am, as I am typing this, it is 10:38am.
Surgery began 168 hours ago. In the past 168 hours, 2.5 of those hours were spent in surgery and recovery and another hour in travel back home. Once I arrived home from surgery, I spent the next 48 hours lying on the sofa in some serious pain. The first night, I got virtually no sleep, the pain was so excruciating. I nearly cried. Tuesday was filled with brief hours of waking, but mostly with dozing, napping, and just generally being useless.
My lovely slinged arm
I did finally rouse myself Wednesday morning to get on a conference call and answer some emails. To say it was difficult would be an understatement. I have limited use of my right arm, as I am in a perpetual sling. I happen to be right-handed. Trying to function with only my left hand has been met with minimal success. Wednesday was also the day that I was finally able to shower.
Jazz and Tux made sure I rested when I was left unattended
If you know me, you know I love cleanliness and thoroughly appreciate my daily shower (usually two). So not being able to shower for a couple of days was truly challenging. The bright side was, I felt so awful that I really didn’t want to shower. Honestly, I didn’t even want to move.
Once Wednesday arrived, I could not wait to jump in the shower. Here, in lies the problem. I cannot shower, I cannot get ready to shower, without some assistance. Actually, without a lot of assistance. The sling that I must wear, at all times, except for bathing and exercises, requires someone to help me put it on and take it off. And that is just the first challenge. Then there is the struggle of getting my shirt on and off. I have a very limited range of motion with my right arm. I feel truly helpless. I need someone to help dress and undress me. My husband, who has been my sole source of assistance, seems to like the latter task. I am truly grateful that he has been here to assist me as I recover from surgery.
My one adventure out of the house. I moved my sofa to my son’s sofa
This recovery is taking longer than I had hoped. I knew it was going to be painful. I knew the recovery was lengthy. I knew I would need help with a lot of different things. I completely underestimated that walking would cause pain in my shoulder and arm. I overlooked that sleeping well would be a challenge, particularly while wearing a cumbersome sling. I neglected to realize that eating would be more difficult, that making a cup of coffee would be a huge task and that wearing anything other than sweatpants would require an additional half an hour every time I ventured to the bathroom. I did not think about not being able to shave my legs. Brushing my teeth even takes more time. I failed to understand that I would not be able to carry much of anything and that typing would be a painful task. And I cannot drive. What I failed to really truly understand was that I would need help. Lots of it. I have never felt more useless in my life.
I have been reading a lot.
I’m not really good at asking for help. I am an independent and self-reliant woman. And now I am at the mercy of my family, dependent on my husband for just about everything. Yeah, it is difficult. Yeah, it is humbling. And yeah, God is using it to help me grow. To teach me trust. To make me rely more on others. To show me how to ask for help. But it is also growing my relationship with Him, teaching me to trust Him more and lean into Him when I need support and rest. It is also helping me recognize all of the gifts and blessings in my life and is reinforcing my sense of gratitude for all of those who have helped me during this recovery, particularly my husband.
We have been together for almost 30 years and have been married for nearly 27 of those years. When people are together that long, they tend to take each other for granted. But through this little setback, I am reminded of what a blessing he is to me (and so many others) and I am grateful for our marriage and partnership. He has done all of the heavy lifting and handled all of the responsibilities this past week. I am fortunate that he willingly takes such good care of me. From sleepless nights and complaints about pain and discomfort to helping me shower and dress, I am humbled and grateful that God has put him in my life and that together, we pursue a deeper relationship and a deeper reliance on God.
My husband and my dog…two of the three men in my life.
So today, be humble enough to ask for help when you need it and be grateful for the people that God has placed in your life and the blessings that He showers upon you. And today, please pray for me and I will pray for you.
I had some foot surgery just over two weeks ago. When I scheduled the surgery, I didn’t really think much of it. It was just routine surgery to correct a joint impingement, no big deal. Just a couple of days off my feet, no cast, no boot, just some rest and reduced activity. It was outpatient, scheduled at 8:30am, and I was home by 12:30pm.
Ready for surgery
My son drove me home and I propped my foot up. I was still a bit groggy from the anesthesia and I dozed on and off on the sofa until the painkiller wore off. Once it wore off, well let’s just say that I finally realized the impact of my surgery. My foot hurt. And it hurt pretty badly. So, I decided to take a look at said foot. It was wrapped in a bloody bandage that I was not allowed to remove for 5 days. And the really great news (this is sarcasm) was that I was not allowed to shower. Not allowed to shower?!?! Really? I shower daily, sometimes 2 or 3 times a day. This was going to be rough.
My bloody bandaged foot
I know you have to clean and dress your wounds in order for them to heal. But that bandage would be staying in place until I went back to the doctor for my post-op follow-up. But as I was pondering cleaning and dressing wounds in order for them to heal, I realized that everybody has wounds beyond the physical, into the mental, emotional, and spiritual.
At some point in life, everyone has experienced some deep injury that has caused heart-wrenching pain. Everybody has been wounded. But a lot of time we choose to deny that these wounds exist, or we ignore them in hopes that they will simply go away. Other times we throw salt on those wounds and exacerbate them to a point where they cause greater agony now than when first inflicted. And sometimes we just slowly pick at them until they become raw and unbearable, never able to properly heal.
The day the bandage came off…gross, I know
Everybody deals with wounds differently. Rarely do we care for those wounds properly. This could be caused by fear, pride, weakness, vanity, anxiety, arrogance, lack of confidence, and the list goes on.
What I learned today is that we need to care for those wounds, even if that means we have to ask for help in doing so. Healing of wounds requires compassion, honesty, trust and vulnerability, a willingness to open yourself up to others and connect. It also requires patience and understanding and the ability to forgive – to forgive others and to forgive yourself.
Healing, but still looking gross
Today, be kind to yourself, be open to being vulnerable, be patient and practice forgiveness, and may any old wounds with which you may be struggling be healed. And today, please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you.
I’m not sure how many people celebrate their birthdays by scheduling outpatient surgeries. I’m also not sure how many people who have scheduled outpatient surgeries on their birthday have had complications, thus making a 2-hour outpatient surgery an over 5-hour inpatient admission to the hospital. Said hospital also happened to be located 2.5 hours away from my residence, thus complicating matters a bit more for my family.
This was how we celebrated the evening before surgery
It definitely was not how I was expecting to spend my 49th birthday. I had fully expected that my husband and I would be home bound from the surgery in Columbus, Ohio by midafternoon on the same day of the surgery. I was the first surgery of the day; it was a routine surgery. So yes, I had some expectations about the outcome. I was so certain of this (maybe so optimistic would be a better statement), that I made plans for the rest of the week. I had actually scheduled a hair appointment for the following day along with a business call.
Needless to say, I was greatly surprised when I woke up in the recovery room, asked what time it was and was told 4:35pm. My surgery had commenced promptly at 7:30am. I remember saying that they needed to release me because we had a long drive home. That’s when they told me I was being admitted. Wait, what? Admitted? Why? Those were the thoughts I had before I fell back to sleep.
I finally got a room
When I awoke about 30 minutes later, I asked those very questions. The very kind nurse in recovery explained in detail what had transpired and the surgery that was necessary. The pain that I was now experiencing told me that I didn’t need to go home. In fact, by then I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to see my husband (whom I could not see in recovery because of COVID) and be admitted to a hospital room. What I really wanted was pain killers and sleep.
I was still quite groggy when they finally had a room prepared for me. It was after 5:30pm and I was the last patient wheeled out of recovery. I remember making a comment about shutting the place down. That was fun when I was in college, shutting down a bar for the night. It has a totally different, not so fun context, when closing down the recovery room in a hospital.
They finally got me to my room (990-A) where my husband was waiting for me. I get a little teary eyed even typing that. We have been through so much over the past year and a half, and I keep coming up with new challenges for us. (I have had four different surgeries in just over one year). But he is always right there standing by me and taking care of me when I can’t take care of myself. I was inpatient for three days and he made the over 5 hour round trip commute to spend time with me, to sit on the edge of my bed, to help me get around, to hold my hand, and to watch the limited offerings on the hospital television. (We watched a lot of Golden Girls reruns, and Forged in Fire when it was available)
My assortment of beverages for my liquid diet.
I have been home from the hospital for just over a week. While the first few days were rough, really rough, (I broke down last Saturday morning because it just hurt so bad) things are improving each day. Now that he has gone back to work, I have a lot of time to myself and will continue to do so as my full recovery is 6-8 weeks. But I fill my days with some work from home (usually first thing in the morning when I am the sharpest), reading (I just finished Jordan B. Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life), and watching television (I have taken to watching the entire series of Party of Five – from the mid/late 90’s – great show by the way). By late afternoon, I am exhausted and not worth much. Reading and watching television really wears you out.
A note from the best husband ever
The doctors had warned me that I would be fatigued, very fatigued. Well, me and fatigue don’t get along all that well. I’m active, I’m busy, I’m social, I’m energetic, I’m always on the go, but these days walking from the kitchen to the office with a cup of coffee takes its toll on me. And because I cannot do much it gives me plenty of time to think. Thinking is not always a good thing.
Therefore, I have been very pensive lately, reflecting on a number of different things. The list is endless, so I won’t bore you with it. And pensive sometimes makes me sad, and sadness sometimes makes me resentful. So the last couple of days have been a bit distressing for me and my escape is Party of Five. But, in the midst of Season Four, Charlie is diagnosed with cancer. So it has unleashed a whole other host of issues to think about.
I’m already up to Season Four
Well today while I was taking my shower, I decided to listen to the Party of Five soundtrack. To answer your question, yes, I was a big fan of the show when it was on TV. In fact, the nights that it aired I would not even answer the telephone during the show…I didn’t want to miss any of the plot.
But the soundtrack. There is a song by the BoDeans called Heart of a Miracle. Listening to that song made me realize all of the miracles that I have experienced since I first began feeling not so great about a month and a half ago. It was a miracle that I was referred to the best OBGYN at OSU. It was a miracle that he scheduled an appointment with me just one day after the referral. It was a miracle that he spent over 2 hours with me on my initial visit. It was a miracle that he scheduled surgery less than one week after my consultation. It was a miracle that my problem was discovered and treated at one of the top rated hospitals in the country by two of the top rated surgeons. It was a miracle that I was discharged after 3 days. It was a miracle that I was cleared for a normal diet just days after surgery. It is a miracle that I am recovering as well as I am.
But those aren’t the only miracles, there are hundreds of others from my mom and sister visiting me the day after I got home (my mom even brought me wedding soup and egg salad – she makes the best egg salad), to the phone calls, messages, texts and flowers I have received, to my boys taking care of me and making sure that I don’t do too much, to one of the principals stopping to visit with her son who happens to be a priest and who brought me communion, to reading books on the porch when its nice out, to cuddling with the dogs who have been my constant companions, to our chaplain who also brought me communion and stayed to visit, to everyone who continues to check up on me. Those, and a million other little instances like those, are the heart of a miracle and I am truly grateful.
The dogs and I spend a lot of time together, so I thought we should also watch Bolt while I recover.
So today, I just want to thank everyone who has been at the heart of a miracle in my life. I am grateful for your love, care, prayers, support, kindness, and friendship. And today, please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you.
The COVID19 pandemic and the shelter in place order has stretched on for weeks now. I believe we are in the middle of our ninth week. During this time, I have worked from home, which has actually been quite productive. In my free time, I walk the dogs, work out, read, do yardwork, plan our family dinners, clean, and pray. I rarely watch TV. All of my friends are binge watching different series on Netflix and I have no idea what they are talking about.
Taking COVID precautions at a follow-up doctor’s visit
Don’t get me wrong, I like television. I love to watch Chopped on the Food Network and Ink Master on Paramount or reruns of sitcoms like Seinfeld. However, most of the tv shows I like are not available on-demand, like American Dreams (Remember that show?), Party of Five, or Parenthood. No matter, though, because I have all of those series on DVD. I also have The Brady Bunch and Facts of Life…don’t judge me.
But a couple of weeks ago, as my husband and I were talking about our next tattoos, I suggested that we watch the Ink Master series and all of its spin-offs from the beginning. On that particular day, the weather was crappy, we were kind of tired, and just didn’t feel like doing too much. And thus began our journey into binge watching. We typically watch approximately 3 episodes in the evening and we are already up to season five.
Binge watching with a cup of Earl Grey tea
On Sunday May 16, we settled in to watch season 5 episode 12, which featured Deangelo Williams, whose mother and aunts all died of breast cancer. The show was a tribute to breast cancer survivors. Obviously, this episode touched me personally. All the women receiving tattoos were breast cancer survivors who had had mastectomies. They were getting the area of the mastectomy tattooed (this is something that I would like to have done when my surgeries are complete). Also, during the episode, the tattoo artists had to design a tribute tattoo for Deangelo in honor/memory of his mother. The winning designer got to tattoo him. (Cleen Rock One had the winning design and gave Deangelo the tattoo). The thing that struck me the hardest was the evening that we were watching it was the same day Deangelo William’s mother passed away from breast cancer – May 16th. Now what are the odds that I would watch that episode on that day? I am actually getting goosebumps as I type this.
I never thought I would have a tattoo, let alone eight of them. Yes, eight. The most recent (and the shortest tattoo session I might add) is the word, “Believe”. It is on my left forearm. I never thought I would have a tattoo in that location, but I do. I always worried about being able to cover them up, because what would people think? I am learning not to really care what other people think. If they are going to judge me because I have tattoos (and ride a motorcycle), then I probably don’t want to be friends with them anyway. Every tattoo I have means something, tells some part of my story. Deangelo Williams said the same thing about his tattoos – they tell the story of his life. I like that.
Believe is something that I have wanted to get for a long time. Believe is the word that Harry Houdini used whenever things got challenging or difficult or seemed impossible. In fact, BELIEVE was the secret message that he devised with his wife to test spiritualist seances should he or she die. It is a word that means a lot to me. I had that word printed on the back of t-shirts that I had made for my softball players back in 2011, when our season was extremely challenging. But it has taken on an even greater importance after dealing with breast cancer. My husband and I refer to “believe” often when things are troublesome in our own lives. He surprised me and got the very same tattoo on his right forearm. When we hold hands, the tattoos face each other. (Yes, he is a keeper, I already know.)
My tattoo
While 2020 has been a strange and challenging year, 2019 was the year that really tested my faith and made me question my belief in God. It was a tumultuous year, and when I thought it really couldn’t get any worse, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was then that “believe” meant something more. My faith and my belief in God using everything for the greater good, that is the “believe” that got me through.
I’m not going to lie, during the whole year of 2019, I argued with God, bargained with Him, got angry with Him, questioned Him, and even cursed Him, but I never stopped believing in Him and His infinite goodness. I don’t understand why that particular year was such a shit-show, but it was. But it was wrapped in grace and mercy, and so much good came from it. The “Believe” tattoo is a reminder of all that I have overcome because I did “believe”, and will continue to remind me to believe in God, in myself, in the goodness and kindness of others, in love, in faith, in purpose, in friendship, in that truth -that all things work together for good for those who love God (Romans 8:28).
Romans 8:28
So today, believe, regardless of the circumstance, and have faith that you are right where you are meant to be. And please pray for me as I will continue to pray for you.
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.
As I typed this, I was on a plane to Savannah; well actually Atlanta. I had a layover there. But honestly, who doesn’t have a layover in Atlanta. It is the busiest airport in the US. I gazed out the window, high above the clouds that looked almost like the ocean. I love the ocean. It brings me such peace.
“It is said that all people who are happy have God within them.”
The Alchemist, Paul Coelho
Although peace is what I have right now, – I am at peace with the turbulence of my flight, I am at peace with the work that I am heading to Savannah to do, I am at peace with tying up loose ends for my work with the Steubenville Catholic School’s, I am at peace with making preparations for my family, – the thought of my approaching surgery lingers in the back of mind like a shadow. It is overshadowing my peace, but it has not disturbed it just yet. Obviously, I missed mass Wednesday morning because of my early flight, but that didn’t disturb my peace either. God knew I would still begin my day spending time with Him. And I did, just not the way in which I normally would.
Since this diagnosis. I have taken prayer requests. I figured the least I can do is offer this “inconvenience” for the benefit of others. So as the plane was de-iced yesterday morning I prayed a rosary for a dear friend and her intentions.
Fast-forward 24 hours and I’m catching my Lyft to the airport. My driver was Edward, a delightful Army veteran. He and his wife have been married for 47 years, have 4 children (one child died a day after birth) and have lived all over the world. He served in Desert Storm and he told me, “I am one of those people who believe in God.” I liked him right away. We had some wonderful conversations about family, faith and life. When he dropped me off, I shook his hand, thanked him for his service and said May God bless you.
I don’t normally close conversations with strangers in that manner, but I did without even thinking. Maybe because I know God has blessed me. Maybe because I know that people are praying me for near and far. People whom I know well and people whom I don’t even know at all. I appreciate those prayers, those well wishes and good thoughts, those positive vibes and good juju, more than you know. And I can feel them because I am at peace as I approach Mondays surgery date.
The Carmelites sister in Savannah, GA are praying for me. In fact, they are offering their Monday mass for me. My TOR sisters are praying for me and prayed with me earlier this week. I will have an anointing of the sick just days before surgery. My family, my friends, my co-workers, my husbands co-workers, my Crusader family, my Facebook community, my acquaintances, my neighbors and even strangers are praying for me. I know I have nothing to worry about.
As I was flying back into Atlanta on my return home today, I was reading The Alchemist. A line from that book struck me; “It is said that all people who are happy have God within them.” I would have called you crazy if you told me that a few years ago. But I truly believe that now. Spending time with the Franciscan sisters confirmed that for me. But now, I am experiencing that for myself.
Thank you for your prayers. I ask that you please pray for me in a special way on Monday as I will undergo another biopsy and surgery. As always, I will continue to pray for you
Surprisingly, to others and to myself, I am in a good place right now. You would think that someone facing cancer and a mastectomy in less than two weeks, along with the uncertainty of knowing the extent of the cancer or the treatment plan, might be in a dark, soulless, sad place. I’m not. I am happy, I am at ease, I am content. I am not scared, I am not worried, I am not anxious. In a word, I am peaceful.
When I think about it, I mean really think about it, I am as surprised as anybody by my mental and emotional state. I mean, shouldn’t I be stressed? Shouldn’t I be frazzled? Shouldn’t I be dismayed? Shouldn’t I be nervous? Maybe I should be, but I’m not.
And then I saw a quote shared by a friend on Facebook that read, “You can’t break a woman that seeks her happiness from God.” It really struck me. You see, God and I weren’t really close friends until about two and a half years ago. I mean I believed in God, but I didn’t really have a relationship with Him outside of attending the obligatory Sunday service. And even that didn’t happen with much regularity. I was pretty closed off to God. He was some far distant being that I really didn’t understand and I was pretty certain He did not really know me.
Inspired by my work with the Franciscan Sisters, TOR; I decided I would give a relationship with God a chance. I mean, I was working for these women who had these incredible relationships with God, but I really didn’t. They were happy, joyful, peaceful. I was not. The difference, God was a part of their lives; God was not a part of mine.
So I began attending Sunday mass regularly, then a couple of masses during the week. At first it was sporadic, but then it grew into attending the daily mass. I would skip Saturday, because I thought I needed to sleep in. Yes, lame, I know. Then one Saturday, I was awake early, so I went to mass. Over the course of a few months, it developed into a daily habit…attending mass. I know that habit developed because of the influence of the sisters.
I have been attending daily mass for just over two years. Now on the days, that I do not go to mass, there is a little bit of an emptiness. I miss it. It affects the rest of my day. Fortunately, the days that I miss are few and far between because daily mass is a priority for me. And while I no longer work for the sisters, I still try to attend mass at the monastery at least once a week.
Most of my mornings begin with mass at the high school or at Holy Rosary (the church is right across the street from the school and they have a 7:00am mass Tuesday-Friday). But today I decided to attend 8:00am morning mass at my own parish, Holy Family. I knew the pastor would hear my confession this morning, and I wanted to get right with the Lord before surgery.
There was a reason I was at that mass. Aside from receiving the sacrament of reconciliation and seeing some people whom I have not seen in a while, Monsignor’s homily spoke directly to me. It was based on the responsorial psalm, and the theme – trust in the Lord, do not fear. He asked the congregation, “Do you trust in God? If you do, you will not be afraid.” It was in that moment that I realized that I truly do trust in God to handle this whole cancer thing for me, because I am not afraid. I am at peace. I am happy. Overall, my life is great and I am living the dream. I’m just living the dream with a little bit of cancer.
Yes, there are moments when doubt and fear creep in. There are moments when the uncertainty overwhelms me. I would be lying if said that didn’t happen. It does, but not often. Generally, I am good. No, scratch that, I am great! I got this, because God has got this.
So I will heed the advice contained in Psalm 56, “In God I trust, I shall not fear”. The verse that really touched me, 10B-11: “Now I know that God is with me. In God, in whose promise I glory, in God I trust without fear; what can flesh do against me?” That mass, that homily, that verse reinforced for me that you truly “can’t break a woman that seeks her happiness from God.” A little cancer can’t break me.
So today, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” – Deuteronomy 31:6. Trust in God and don’t let anything break you. Please pray from me and I will continue to pray for you.
Inevitably when I am meeting with or visiting people, the first thing they ask me is; “How are you feeling?” I truly appreciate their care and concern and completely understand why they are asking. I mean I do have cancer, right? So technically, I’m sick. I probably shouldn’t be feeling all that well. But surprisingly, I feel fantastic. I’m working out, eating well and generally just enjoying life. I don’t feel sick, I don’t feel tired, I’m not in pain; I really do feel great! In fact, when I tell people that I feel great, I add the disclaimer that if they didn’t tell me I had cancer I would have never known. I mean, I don’t feel like I have cancer, if that makes sense.
But the stark reality that I do have cancer hit home this week. I had my pre-op appointments yesterday. And while I have shared that I have breast cancer pretty freely, I haven’t really shared what my treatment plan looks like. It looks like this – I have to have a unilateral mastectomy. When I think about it, it’s a lot to process. So for the most part I just don’t think about it. I focus on the good, I focus on the blessings, I focus on the miracles; I focus on all of things that I have gained during this journey with cancer. I try not to think about or concentrate on what I am losing. Basically, I’m losing one of the girls.
When we first made the decision to move forward with the mastectomy, it was a little overwhelming. I felt nauseous for days. But like everything, as time passes you learn to deal with it; you learn accept it. But as the impending surgery approaches, I am feeling those things all over again. There are dozens of thoughts rushing through my mind. And some concern about what happens afterwards. The pre-op appointments made it real. For so long it was one of those things that was going to happen eventually. Well, eventually is upon me.
But I will press on, trying to push the fear that sometimes creeps up out of my mind, not thinking about the negative aspects of cancer. I will focus on all the blessings that this diagnosis has brought about in my life.
I have gotten spend more time with my brother and his wife who have hosted me on each trip to Columbus for appointments, etc. They have made me feel comfortable and welcome. I was worried about intruding into the lives, but they always make me feel like the want me there.
I have spent a lot more time in Columbus which has been really cool. At one point in my life I did called Columbus, Ohio home. So to be back, although a lot has changed, has been wonderful.
The Columbus Crew who have made my visits to Columbus so fun
I reconnected with my best friend from high school. We picked up where we had left off ten years ago. Not that we intended to lose touch, but life got in the way. But it has been like no time had passed at all and she has been there for me when I needed her most.
I have reconnected with many other old friends with whom I had lost touch over time. They have reached out. We’ve met for coffee, grabbed lunch, exchanged texts or just talked on the phone. They will never know how much their presence and support has meant to me.
I have been shown love, kindness and support from people whom I don’t even know. And the prayers, well let’s just say I know that people are praying for me because I really am at peace with all of this. I can only attribute that peace to God’s grace and the prayers that have been offered on my behalf.
It’s funny how tragedy and adversity can bring people together and draw out the best in one another. That is a blessing – in fact that is multiple blessings all wrapped up in one. I am grateful for all of the good that transpired in the midst of this diagnosis and will focus on that as I approach surgery.
We have all lost something, probably many things, over the course of our lives. Today, focus not on what you could lose, but look at all you have gained. Please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you.
Tattoos, Motorcycles, Beer, Bourbon and Faith 