Wednesday 23 December 2015

It Ain't Over Till the Bell Rings!

Today was a wonderful day for our family.  I hope it was for yours as well!  We are so thrilled to have suddenly come to the end of the chemo part of our journey with cancer.  Today was my last of eight rounds of chemo.  It was a good day, a good day indeed!!

Paul and I were going to be gone for most of the day so we had organized two babysitters for our lovely children.  Aunt Margie showed up at 7:30am to take the first shift and Uncle Conrad came around 10 to take the afternoon shift.  Later on, Paul and I discovered that Auntie Janine came for the late-afternoon shift so Conrad could leave early.

We arrived at the Juravinski Centre when everything was just opening up and staff was just coming into work.  Paul dropped me off and went to park our vehicle nearby; in the driveway of Paul's cousin Melissa.  Seriously, what on earth would we do without all these amazing people in our lives.  Babysitting for us, letting us park in the driveway so we don't have to pay $18 per day for all of our appointments, making us meals, dropping off baking, delivering cards, praying and praying.  Our support system has been so amazing.....those arms of Jesus wrapped around us!  Thank you so much for all your support and love and prayers!!

I had just come into the building when I spotted an older lady leaning heavily on her walker shuffling my way.
"Ann?" I queried.  It was Ann - the woman I had met several weeks ago.  We had sat together and shared our stories.  Ann started off with breast cancer at 38 years old and now has bone cancer in her 60s.  Ann's treatment involves a lot of trials that may or may not work and the doctors are working to prolong her years.   It was Ann that told me that her cancer taught her to LIVE life to its fullest and she and her husband are off to Disney World next week, a place they love. 

Back to my query....."Ann?"
"Hi, yes.  I recognize you but I have forgotten your name..." she responded.
"Brigette.  We met a few weeks ago.  You told me you had breast cancer at 38 and that is what I have now....remember?"  
"Oh yes.  How ARE you?"  she asked.
"Great.  Today is my last chemo day!" I chirped, as excited as a school-kid in a candy shop.
"That is wonderful!" she exclaimed.  Her husband came over and we chatted briefly.  Then we wished each other a very Merry Christmas and hugged.
Here, friendships are forged fast and furious, because life is short but life is beautiful!

I made my way to get my bloodwork done.  I had just snapped open the paper when my number was called.
"Today's my last day of chemo!!"  I announced to anyone who was interested.  My excitement was beginning to embarrass even me but I was met with wide smiles from everyone.  The Juravinski Centre is a place where there is much sadness and sorrow so joy is held onto with both hands!
Bloodwork done in 2.2 seconds!  Bandaid on!
Paul had parked our car and met me in the hallway.  

Next we had to have our pharmaceutical briefing to let us know if my blood count was okay to allow chemo to occur that day.   We signed in at the Chemo Suite and were soon told that all was good to go and the chemo mixture was being prepared for me.  

"Woo hoo!" I cheered. 
Amazing how what we cheer for, what we savour, what we find joy and excitement in changes from year to year.  What did you cheer for last year?  I certainly did not cheer for chemo!  But today I did and Paul joined in.  "Awesome!!  Now, let's get a coffee!"
So we left the Chemo Suite and made our way to the Cafe.  We sipped our coffees and talked.  It was a wonderful date.   Just as we slurped up the last drops of our hot coffee and prepared to clean up, our chemo pager went off.  Coincidence.  No stinking way.  I no longer believe in coincidences!  Providence!  Absolutely!  Thank you, God, for letting us have our little coffee time together!

We skipped and scampered upstairs and made our way to chair #9.  Benadryl pills swallowed.  Infusion needed inserted (ick!) and the infusion began.  Paul and I chatted, then I read and he listened to music, then we both napped.  At one point, we heard the chiming of a bell.  Everyone clapped loudly.  The bell chimed again.  We clapped again.  It chimed .....again.  Hesitantly now, everyone clapped a little quieter...wow, were there a lot of people finishing their chemo today...?
Then a voice spoke over the intercom system announcing that a fire alarm had been pulled and the bells we had heard were not The Bell!  Haha...good one!


Much earlier than we anticipated, our chemo nurse came over.
"Okay, Brigette, you are done!"  she announced.
"I AM?" I gulped and grinned broadly while trying to sit up.  "That's amazing!"
I couldn't believe it......chemo was OVER!  Bandaid two was applied and Paul and I walked out of the chemo suite towards The Bell!
I was overcome with emotions.....joy, a type of nostalgia for this strange place with its amazing fighters and nurses, and relief!
We got to The Bell and I had to compose myself.  Tears come very quickly to me.  I have leaky eyes and the tears flood up and spill over a lot!  Ask my kids!

Now, I've been thinking of this bell a lot.   For weeks and weeks.   Last night I had to wake up at 4:45am to take some more steroids and I thought about the bell some more afterwards when I couldn't get back to sleep.
And here was my thought.  I had this thought that hitting that bell would be the beginning of a very amazing Dance for Joy.
See, I love musicals.  Not the tv ones but the on-stage drama ones.  I especially love the big sing-and-dance scenes where one of the actors breaks into song and suddenly all the other actors have stopped what they are doing to join in with the singing and choreographed dancing.  I just love those moments.

Sometimes I think life should be a musical but I just can't get Paul and the kids on board.  I will sing to them and prance around in some limber and super cool dance moves but I am usually met with, "Moooom!" and no one joins in.

So, I had a thought that today would be a wonderful Musical in my Beautiful Life (even if this only happened in my head).
The scene opens with Paul and I walking hand in hand towards The Bell.
I grasp the bell rope and thrash it about, making the bell chime loudly while I break into song.
"I'm SO happy!  Chemo is DONE!"  The bell's chimes suddenly become part of a tune that fills up the chemo suite.
The receptionists are sitting at their computers and their fingers clicking and clacking at the keyboard add to the percussion sounds of the tune that I am still singing to.  Then the receptionists vault over the desk and line up behind me.  We are 5 strong now.  Paul has joined the receptionists.  We skip three steps ahead and clap our hands in rhythm.  We twirl and stomp and sashay into the waiting room.
Bowed heads of waiting people snap up and their pains melt away.  They jump up and join in.  We are 15 strong now.
"Chemo is DONE DONE DONE!"  We lift our voices in harmonious song.  We link arms two-by-two and spin each other in a dizzying circle of unrestrained, unrefined happiness.  We spin around and leap forward and forward and shimmy on back.  We clap and sing and are now in the room where chemo infusions are being done.
The patients look at us and their iv infusion shackles fall away.  They step in, never missing a beat.  The blue-clad chemo nurses are next and we are 30 strong now.  We fill the room with our loud voices and we dance the dance of bodies that are not broken.  We are sharing a dance much as we are sharing a journey.   We prance forward and swing it on back, we hop and skip and whirl wildly as we continue singing our song for one last line:  "CHEMO IS DONE!!!!!"

Now that only happened in my brain, so I will share what REALLY happened!

Paul and I got to The Bell and I composed myself.
Then Paul recorded me ringing the bell.  The chimes rang out and it was very beautiful.  Not just the sound but what the sound signified.  Chemo was DONE!  A group of patients, nurses, and receptionists clapped loudly.  It was wonderful.

Paul and I were almost out of the Juravinski Centre when I spotted the familiar form of my beloved brother, Tim.
"huh??  Tim?  What are you doing here?  Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Yes, yes....." he wrapped me up in a hug.  "Are you done already?"
Then there came my mom.  My mom!!!!  We hugged and sobbed - two cancer fighters on this journey that God has put us on.  My mom had had surgery to remove her cancer two weeks ago today.  And she was here!  So amazing!
Tim and my mom filled us in.  My immediate family wanted to surprise Paul and I and see me ring the bell but we had finished much earlier than expected.   Conrad, my dad and Crystal were hoping to come yet.
"Well then, we will wait and I can ring the bell again!" I firmly decided.  So we waited and in the waiting room of the Juravinski Centre today, there was a joyous family reunion as each member arrived.  Crystal brought roses!  So amazing and thoughtful.  We hugged and made our way back up to the chemo suite again.
"My family wanted to see me ring the bell but they missed it.  Can I ring it again? " I questioned the receptionist.
"Of course!" she enthused, "We love hearing the bell ring here!"
So we gathered around, took a million and a half pictures and I rang that baby loud!  The chimes pealed loudly and everyone cheered.  What a feeling.  My heart soared, surrounded by so many loved ones: Paul and my family.  It wasn't a scene from a Musical but maybe it was even better.

"Thank-you, God!" I thought with a smile.  Your ways are always better than my ways.  You know!  You just know!

God yanks us down these roads.  Roads that we don't expect to go down.  Maybe you are on one right now.  Maybe it is hard and it hurts so much.  Maybe it is scary and you don't know what tomorrow will bring.  Gather around those loved ones that God has placed in your life; gather them up because life is so much easier and lovelier with those loved ones holding you up and cheering you on.

When Paul and I arrived at home, there was more!  Some of my best pals had left helium balloons in front of my house with more balloons and a lovely card on my bed.  Thanks Mar, Amanda, Rose, and Char!  I am so blessed!  My sister in law, Janine, was inside and I spoke with my mother-in-law on the phone.  I could not do this without you all holding me up.

So, that was my day.  I hope you had a good one too.

God, thank you so much for today.  Didn't think I would ever be here; I would not have thought it a year ago.   But as ugly and scary as cancer is, as unpredictable as the future seems......this journey has been oddly beautiful.  So, thank you, God for holding us up and strengthening us through it all.  Help us to continue to trust in you as we look ahead to the next leg of our journey.

May you all continue to find God on your journey of life.  Merry Christmas and may God bless you all!

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say to the LORD, 'My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.'"  Psalm 91:1, 2

(left: Me, Mom and Crystal)  (left:  me and Paul)










Me and Tim










Me and Dad






Me and Conrad

Wednesday 9 December 2015

The Lady of the Rings

Okay....one more and then we are done.  You can even write down on any of your reading charts that tonight you read the equivalent of a small novel.
Sorry about the 8 teas you may have already ingested.  On the bright side, your reading skills are really developing well!

Today was chemo day #7.  That means only ONE MORE TO GO!  WHOOOOO HOOOOOO!
I can't believe how quickly this has gone and I am so, so, so thankful that we are almost done this leg of the journey.

Thank you, thank you, God, for being with us and making it go quickly.  Thank you for our amazing family and friends and church family and homeschool family who have been there every single step of the way!

So, today was another chemo round.  Today my sister, Crystal took me!  Crystal is my older sister.  She also attests that she is the wiser one as well and I have to give in because I was taught to respect my elders.  When we were kids, my dad loved to photograph life, people, and houses.  One day, two-year old Crystal was holding her baby sister (me) and I began to slip out of her arms.

"Mom!  Dad!" she shouted in alarm as her chubby arms squeezed around my neck in a vain attempt to hold me up.
"Just a second..." my dad assured her as he pulled out his handy-dandy camera and snapped off some pictures.  Then he rescued me.  I was sobbing.  Crystal was crying.  But my dad had caught the perfect picture and it became a Christmas card that was apparently sent all over the world.  By this photo, I was known.

When I was 24 and moved to Hamilton to begin a teaching job, I was recognized by that picture.

"Oh, you are the girl from the picture ....." they would begin miming someone squeezing someone else.
"Yeah, that was me..." I would intone drily.

Crystal is the one who would help me style my hair or put make-up on me.  She had such high hopes that I would turn into a Pretty Princess.  And she tried.  She showed me skirts and dresses that could be accentuated with things called "accessories".  I walked away with army pants and unmatching shirt.  She delicately applied mascara and light layers of pastel eye shadows.  I fell in love with dark black outlining my eyes and green nail polish.  She sat me down and spent hours curling my hair.  I was quite content to have it hang straight down my back, parted in the middle.

We were so different but alway got along so well.  Maybe that was why we were always so close.  We shared a bedroom for 24 years.  We shared secrets and gave advice.  We have always shared friends and Crystal and I have gone out for birthday dinners with a group of five girls for 20 years now.  We just had our Christmas dinner together.

We have always been so close so it was wonderful to have her along today at my chemo round.  She made sure I was tucked in with 3 heated blankets, that I had a pillow behind my head and one to support my hand.  She held my hand and talked about mundane things while the nurse tried to locate a good vein and then gave up and located a new good vein to begin the infusion.  She gave me a hand massage and fetched me a snack.  She even sat patiently while I slept and slept and slept.  The meds I take before chemo just knock my socks off....well, not literally.  My socks were okay....they just make me sleepy(not the socks...the meds. This is getting confusing)!!  So I slept and Crystal stood guard.

Another chemo round is done and I am so thankful that Crystal could be there with me.  What on earth would I do without all the wonderful people that God has put in my life?

When my chemo was done, I walked Crystal out of the chemo suite and showed her the bell...the bell that you ring when you are all done chemo....the bell that signifies the end of a hard journey and the beginning of something new...the bell that draws applause and tears from patients and nurses and staff .

I told Crystal, "I've got some big plans for that bell!  I'm gonna be the Lady of the Rings!   I can't wait to ring that bell next week!"

And because she is my sister and we love each other so much, she put her hand around me and said, "I'll bet you can't wait, Brig!" and then we walked forward together without so much as one glance behind.


"For by you I can run against a troop and by my God I can leap over a wall."  Psalm18:29

Cancer Can't Steal My Love

Dum dum da dum
dum dum da dum
dum dum da dum dee dum dum dee dum dah dum.

It was my wedding day and Paul's cousin played the Wedding March on the church organ.  His fingers danced over those keys and the most melodious tune echoed through the sanctuary.   I sashayed down the aisle in the most beautiful dress I have ever worn.  I felt like a pretty princess and, although I have NEVER in my life aspired to be a pretty princess (more like a Xena the Warrior Princess or a Hiking Princess or She-Ra Princess of Power) that day, pretty princess felt fun.  I knew I was fooling no one....no one expected to be become suddenly refined or lady-like in that moment but we all played into the pretty-princess daydream for a time.  I met my beloved at the end of the aisle and we clasped hands and grinned widely at each other.  What a moment of complete joy!

The minister was saying our vows and I remember bobbing my head (hair carefully coiffed and cemented into place, tiny pearls swaying at my ear lobes).
"Yeah yeah, " I thought, "for better for worse through good times and bad...yeah...yeah....just get on with it so I can smooch the guy."
I licked my lips in anticipation and caught Paul's gaze.  He narrowed his eyes and I knew he was thinking, "Oh no, not so much slobber!" but he daren't say a thing to ruin the moment.  Good man!
Once we had said our fervent "I DOs", we enthusiastically smooched to seal the deal.  Paul dabbed delicately at the slime left behind.

Husband and wife.
Two halves made whole.
Promising to love and guide, to love and assist and to never forsake as long as we live.
Our lives knit together through vows, wet smooches and a lifetime of experiences and memories.
Our wedding text was from Romans 8:31b "If God is for us, who can be against us?"  a rhetorical questions that is still answered later on in the chapter....."No, in all these things we are MORE than conquerors through him who loved us."  Romans 8: 37

If God is for us, who can be against us?  Handships?  Grief and loss?  Anxiety?  Depression?  Cancer?

Nothing separates us from God's love.

And this is great news.  Because I am crazy about my hubby but there are days when I want to kick him in the shins.  On these days, I take a deep breath and then.....kick him in the shins.

But there are other days, such wonderful days when we hold hands and all the years slip away and we are gazing giddily into each other's eyes again awaiting a sloppy sealing smooch.


Skip back for a moment:  We were meant to be together....?
One of the first times I saw Paul was at a hockey game.  He was the goalie and had emerged from his dressing room with still wet hair slicked back from his forehead.  He wore a white t-shirt, dog tags and loose fitting jeans.  His hockey bag lay at his feet and he was leaning on his goalie stick while he talked to some teammates.
I was chatting with my cousin whose husband played on the same team.  She saw where my gaze was directed and noticed that a feverish look had come into my eyes.  Also I think a sliver of drool slid down my chin and I began talking in gibberish (because it is hard to talk while you drool, duh!).

"Oh, him," stated my cousin, "that's Paul VanHuisstede.  He's our goalie."
"Gurgle gurgle," I gurgled.
"You know.  You guys would make a great couple.  He's weird too!"

Well, that was it!  The guy was eye-candy but WEIRD TOO?  This was too much.  I set my eye on that man and within the year, we were dating.

We dated for a looooooong time.  Seven years to be exact but Paul patiently waited because I insisted on waiting until I got my University degree.  After teaching for my first year, we were married.

Several years of just he and I sped by and soon babies began to arrive.
Golden haired Liam.
Donovan Drake.
Beautiful Gwen.
Sweet Lochlan.

Our years of babies were followed by some dark years.  Years of plaguing anxiety and despairing depression on Paul's part.  I figured there were some of the "for worse" years that the minister had talked about during our wedding vows.  But we clung to one another, sought professional help and clung to God's plans.
"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope"  Jeremiah 2: 11
We read and re-read our Bible for assurances, we remembered our wedding text:  "If God is for us, who can be against us?" and over the years, things began to look slowly better again.

And then, CANCER.

My cancer, my brother's father-in-law's cancer, my mom's cancer.  So much cancer.

I thought this would be a terrible journey.  A horrific one that would bring back the anxiety and depression; that would tear up our family life into tiny pieces of worry, worry and tears.  What about our beautiful children?  I thought how could I do this to them.

I prayed to God and said,"God, you can't do this because my family needs ME.  They need me to be strong and to support and to take care of them all...."
But then I really feel that God told me that He could do all that stuff and it had been him, not me taking care of everything all along.  He humbled me and made me so thankful that my family's welfare didn't rest on me.

But this cancer journey has not only been nauseating and gross, uncomfortable and terrible.  There have been moments of great joy, curious moments of hilarity and tender moments that have wrapped our whole family in the arms of our loving God.

Most of my chemotherapy appointments are precluded by another appointment a day earlier where I have blood work done and meet up with my oncologist.  Most of these appointments, I am accompanied by my dear hubby, Paul.  We are so thankful that he has been able to come along with me to be there for this leg of our journey together.

Getting bloodwork done takes the nurses about 2.1 seconds to do.  I have barely enough time to register that I don't like needles and the needle is in, drawing blood and out.

Visiting with the oncologist often means waiting for at least an hour before seeing him.  I love this time with Paul.  We talk and talk and talk.  Paul is an awesome conversationalist and talking with him is like talking with an old girlfriend.  I believe I can talk to him about anything; my hopes, fears, joys, plans for new curriculum, poetry, anxieties for tomorrow.  Sometimes we get a coffee and talk in the cafe.
"I'm scared about losing a breast," I confessed one day, "first I'm bald and then I have only one breast?  I will look like a freak!"
"Well," Paul responds, "we could paint you yellow and say you are a Minion." (See Despicable Me movie character)
I barked out a laugh and my tears dried up.  That's another thing about Paul.  He is the funniest man I know.  We have shared so many moments of laughter even while we have had tears on our faces!

I am glad to have Paul at my side during all of this.  For better or for worse is what we promised to each other, to God and a room full of people on our wedding day.  We have shared so many wonderful days and so many hard days.  Paul has been a rock to me; standing steady, always ready to wipe away my tears and assure me of his love.  And then to crack a well-timed joke.

Cancer cannot take all this away.  Not the fact that God's love holds me to Him and that He has a plan in there for me, Paul, my kids, my mom and dad, my siblings, my brother's father-in-law.  He has a plan with all this cancer.  And cancer cannot take away my Paul or our memories together.  In fact, cancer has given us lovely memories together: dates at the Juravinski Centre.

There should be a sound track to this; I'm sure Paul would know the perfect song to end off this blog entry that began with a song.  I don't and that is another reason why I need and love him.  He is my soundtrack.





Chemo Vs Surgery

It's an hour past his bedtime but his stomping footsteps race back and forth above our heads as we try to "clock out off" our parenting duties for the night.  Sigh.  He is up again.  He is coughing and hacking and apparently is scared of those dancing shadows on his walls created by the night light.
So here sits my Lochlan nestled on my lap while I reach around him to type tonight.   I don't think you can ever clock out of parenting duties.  I've tried.

Sneaking into the bathroom and peeing as quietly as possible while trying to read a tiny piece of my novel.  Suddenly the door slams open, a light flicks on (harsh, bright and I blink up into it).  "Whatcha doing, mom?"  ask four kids, curious about what I was doing, why and how long would I be since they were all tired, hungry and a little bored.  Also the dog peed on the floor and they all thought I was better at cleaning it up since Lochlan slipped in it last time and got pee all over and you were angry because you had to clean up pee AND do extra laundry.

Sometimes I want to clock out of parenting duties.  I sneak out of the house so I can walk alone and not with an entourage of small people on bikes and scooters banging into each other, slamming into trees, clothes-lining the dog leash or falling onto the ground.  Sometimes I pretend I am asleep so that when a small person comes in and hisses into my face with little-kid breath, "MOM ARE YOU AWAKE?" and then repeats said hissing 40 more times, they finally leave and I can have about 50 more seconds of sleep.

But sometimes I don't want to clock out of parenting duties because my four little people are my love and joy and some of God's greatest blessings in my life.  They provide fodder for hilarious stories.  They give the best sticky little hugs.  They say things like "I want to be the Holy Spirit when I grow up" and do not let their dreams be hampered and hindered and held down by reality.


I also don't want to clock out of daughtering duties (new word alert!  Quick add it to your dictionary!  It is an adjective that modifies a noun.)   I have a mom who, in my youth, gave up on locking the bathroom door but never gave up on me!  I have a mom who tolerated 24 years of my little kid breath hissing at her in the middle on the night; she patiently dealt with it.  

Today that mom of mine went in for her hysterectomy surgery to removed the endometrial cancer that had begun to grow there.  Today I could not be there for her.  Not to barge in while she peed.  Not to hiss her awake.  Not to suggest that she listen to my long stories.  I couldn't be there because I had a chemo treatment today.

Today my mom could not be there for me.  Every week, when I have chemo, she comes down here to take care of my babies, my Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lochlan, while I have chemo.  She helps with their homework, listens to their piano lessons, assists with the paper route and even has begun keeping the bathroom door unlocked in case they need to barge in with imminently, life-changing news like "NANA, NANA we need a snack!"

But last night we talked together and that was beautiful and wonderful.
"I'm thinking of you, mom.  Praying your surgery all goes well.  You have your clothes packed?  Dad will be there with you?  Do you have everything you need?" I asked.

"Yes, it's all set and Dad will be there the whole time.  Do you have a babysitter for tomorrow?  How are you feeling?  Crystal is coming with you, right?"  she asked back.

It was so weird to be so disconnected and yet connected.

My mom's surgery went well today.  The doctors were able to operate by laparoscopy and the last update I had from my dad was that she was in recovery.  Her recovery should be quicker and gentler due to this time of surgery but please keep her in your prayers.  May the LORD speed her healing and give her patience and peace as she heals.  Please remember my dad, may the LORD give him the patience he needs to be a caregiver; surround him with assurance in God's plans for him and mom!

I plan to visit my mom soon so that we can share some good mother-daughter time!  Good thing neither of us clocked out of mothering or daughtering!!


"Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD."  Psalm 27: 14

Wednesday 25 November 2015

Several Degrees of Connections

I love titles.  I love how they can be so tantalizingly intriguing that they pull you in to a story like some sort of strong sucky thing!  I'm not sure my title tonight is like that....so I apologize.

Perhaps I should title this:
In Which Brigette Rants On and On and Finally Gets to the Point 

Either way, the title is over and now we begin.  At the beginning.

Connections and connectivity.  So interesting to consider, contemplate and cogitate (that is a real word.  I thesaurused it.  Thesaurusing is also a word.  Because I said so; why should Dr. Seuss and Shakespeare have dibs on all the word-making fun in this world? )

Back to connections.
When I was younger, I loved connecting the dots, putting together numbers in their numerical order or letters in alphabetic order until....VOILA and TA-DAH...the connections formed a bigger picture.  Order out of chaos.  Sense out of no sense.  A picture out of blobs.  Connectivity gives us that bigger picture in life.

There are so many crazy connections in life.  If only we look up and around to see them and to join them together.  God puts all those crazy connections there like a giant dot to dot in our lives to see if we will notice, put the connections together and then rejoice in that giant picture that has become our life!

There's this cool theory called the "Six degrees of separation"....I think a movie was even made about it if my chemo-saturated brain can recall correctly...and this theory postulates that everyone is connected by six or less-than-six steps from others.  Connections can be made to one another through a chain of "a friend of a friend" statements (Wikipedia).

So, when God yanked me, Paul, our children, my parents and my siblings down this new path of cancer, we began to see all sorts of connections.

Well, not right away.

First we were shocked.

"I have WHAT?  I need WHAT?  I have to go WHERE?"

Then we were worried.

"What will this mean for us?  Our family?  Our kids? Our parents?  Our future?"

Then we railed.

"Why me?  Why us....life wasn't easy already?  Why now?  Why, God?  What is your plan in this?"

( I remember praying once while I was driving somewhere.  It was a dark night and I gripped the steering wheel in a tight-fisted grip.  Hot hot tears water-falled down my face, I clenched my teeth and began an out-loud prayer into the darkness:  "I am not strong enough for this.  This is TOO much, God!  I can't do this.  Our family can't handle this.  Why, God?  I need to be strong for my family.  They look to me for so much.  How can I be strong when I am weak......"  Hey wait a second.....in the middle of all that railing and wailing, God's answer came to me.  I just love that I can talk to God anytime, anywhere about anything.  The awesome wonderful thing about God is that He already knows anyways.  He isn't like, "What?  How dare you think like that?  I can't believe you?"  Instead, I have a picture of Him whispering, "Yeah.  I know you are feeling that way.  I understand.  I am here for you....always....and I am ready to wipe away those tears.  And don't forget.....you can be strong when you are weak.  I told you that already."  Because as I angrily wept into the night, my sobs loud and messy, I remembered 2 Corinthians 12:10 "For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.  For when I am weak, then I am strong."   I am strong in Him.  He makes me strong and builds my spiritual muscles so that I can deal with this life.

I had a friend over and she commented on the cards that I have hanging in our kitchen.  They go ALL THE WAY around the perimeter of our kitchen, hanging high up by the ceiling where we can look at them and feel the love, prayers, thoughts of all of you emanating from them.  She said to me when she saw all those cards, "Those are the arms of Jesus right there."  Your love, cards, words, prayers.....your connections to me and my family are connections put there by God years ago.  Maybe I know you from grade school, maybe I know your husband or wife from grade school, maybe we've just met recently and don't know each other much at all, maybe I worked for you or went to high school with you, maybe you are my neighbour and we talk over the front hedge, maybe I taught you years ago or babysat you.....all those connections pulled together over the past weeks for my family as your cards/ texts/ emails poured in and served to show Jesus' love as they lifted me and my family up and up and up and made us strong.

I met someone recently and she said to me, "You are so strong.  I could never go through what you are going through."

It wasn't until later that I thought of a retort.  (I often think of the BEST and wittiest retorts hours later.  And, man, are they good!  Too bad the person is long gone and the conversation long over.  Sigh!  Mine is a sort of delayed-intelligence.)

Back to the lady who said she could not go through what I was going through.

My hours-later retort (retorted to the air at this time since she was long gone) was that, "Yes you could.  Because you just have to deal with things like cancer and death and horrifying news.   That's this broken, sinful, crazy world we are in.  I got my first freaky-about-cancer phone call in the middle of Costco surrounded by my kids.  I could go on because I had to; four sets of eyes were upon me and depending on me.  And suddenly I had dealt with cancer for one day.  God gives us strength, and so often it is through the amazing people around us.  They are there to lift, encourage, strengthen, cheer and so often they come from past and unlikely places.

So when I began to go on this cancer journey and began to meet new people, people I would not have wanted to or thought to have met, I tried to open my eyes to them, to see them, and my ears to hear their stories.  They are here.....to give me a needle, to occupy the chair beside me, to advise me....and are put here and there by God.  New connections.  I just don't really believe in coincidences anymore. I have learned to not believe in coincidences from all my life experiences ....and......all my hours of reading or watching murder mysteries.

"There's no such thing as coincidences," the unshaven, crotchety hero growls out as he flips open his grubby notepad at the crime scene, licks his pencil and begins to scrawl out clues and connections.

Some connections of this past week:

Connection # 1:  I received a card from a couple that I have not seen for about 15 years.  Our degrees of separaton.....2.....the husband is a cousin of my cousin.  BAM!
They sent me a card with a lovely, lovely text:
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.  When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.  For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior."  Isaiah 43: 2,3

Connection #2:  The Juravinski Centre was packed when Paul and I went to my appointments on Tuesday morning, thereby there were not many places to park our bottoms.  But a man moved over and we sat beside him and his wife.  As I sat down, I thought maybe he was her son as she looked so much older.  He looked to be in his 50s, she in her late-70s.  We chatted about some light topics at first....the weather (what would we do with out weather chatter??), the long wait time at the Centre, my attempts at knitting.  Then I asked,
"SO, what are you in for?"  (I love asking this....it lends a sense of danger to it all, don't you think?)
"Oh," the lady responded, "I initially had breast cancer when I was 38 but I got over that and now I have terminal bone cancer."
GULP.
"What about you?" her soft voice questioned, "What do you have?"
"I," I croaked, "I have breast cancer and I am 38."
The lady (Ann) and her husband quickly faced me and began wildly reassuring me that just because Ann had breast cancer at 38, that did not at all mean I would have bone cancer 20 years later.  Her story is not mine!
The thing about Ann is that she was a lot like me.  She told me she would have her chemo, go home and lay sod or remove wall paper from her walls.  She didn't like being told to lay down all the time.

"I want to live my life.  My husband and I bought a time-share to Disney and we have been there 48 times!  We are going to enjoy life as long as we can."  She grinned at me, her face stretching into a smile so radiant,  She had these lines around her eyes that were beautiful......made me think of the Beautiful South song "Prettiest Eyes" which croons, "take a look at these crow's feet sitting on the prettiest eyes...."  YouTube it!

"Amen, sister!"  I said.  I think we high-fived but that may be my imagination inserting cool details into the truth.  Aw.....let's all just imagine a high-five at that moment together!

This connection with Ann upset me and Paul yesterday.  We have been considering this cancer-journey as one with lots of positives and a "Happily Ever After" ending:

Once upon a time, a brown-haired girl got cancer.  She had chemo, a breast removed and radiation.  Then she lived happily ever after and her gorgeous prince and her, their four kids, dog, guinea pig and 3 birds rode off into the sunset where they hiked for ever after.  The End.

Talking with Ann made me contemplate a different ending, a life with a ticking time limit (I think I just mixed metaphors but go with it because I am sad).

But despite Ann's limited time, crumbling bones and continued chemo treatments for the rest of her life, she was smiling.
Connections, not coincides.  Ann talking to me, sitting by me and giving me a courageous story of life and living it the way God made you to love to live it!

Connection # 3:  My oncologist, Dr. Levine, and surgeon, Dr. Hodgson, met with Paul and I.   These two have become significant people in our lives.  We rely heavily on their expertise and wisdom.  Looks like my tumors are responding well to the chemo; they are soft and shrinking!  Thank God!!  So, a tentative surgery date is now set for January 21, 2016.   The surgery is a lot more intense than my mind had made it out to be.  Apparently the doctors don't just "cut it off" and all is done.  The breast will be removed, lymph nodes scraped out from under my arm and a nerve that crosses where the lymph nodes exist will also be removed.  I will be left with a smiley scar instead of a breast.   We can talk reconstruction surgery in a few years once the doctors are assured the cancer has not come back.  Paul and I are thankful for these two people connections; they are empathetic, helpful and doing their job in a way that has been very supportive of this part of our life journey.


Connection # 4:  This is not a people connection but a thing connection.

Paul and I had to wait for my meds yesterday at the pharmacy.  Rather than wait inside the pharmacy, we made our way to a nearby waiting area in the Juravinski Centre.  We sat.  I looked around and spotted a HUGE painting.  I am talking the size-of-your-garage-door-huge.  It was bright, vibrant and beautiful.  Remember all the whining I did back in the blog entry "Of Hikes and Hallways"; I was upset about my chemo days replacing my hike days.  Well, this giant painting colouring up the colourless walls of the Centre was a picture of one of my favourite hiking locations!!

"Paul, look!" I hissed jabbing him sharply in the side and pointing frantically at the giant painting.
"It's Princess Point in Cootes Paradise!!!"

I was so pumped.  The hike just got brought to me.  "Thank-you, God!" I breathed and then just sat and smiled at that painting.  It was summer in the picture and the willow trees were bending low and the water was reflecting back all the trees at the water-edge.  We have hiked that area so many times.  There are several loops you can hike, one less stroller friendly then the other.  In the winter, the shallow water freezes solid and my homeschool group skates and plays hockey on the ice there.  We toboggan there.  It is a place that I love.
Connection, not coincidence.  My heart had been heavy but when that hike memory got brought to me, my smile reached all the way to my heart and squished up all those sad feelings.  Awesome!

Connection #5:  Today I had chemo again.  Chemo round #6.  During every single chemo round, I have been blessed to have someone I know and love accompany me.  Paul has gone several times, my mom, my mother in law, my friend-Amanda, my sister-Crystal will come soon, and today, my friend-Mary-Ann.  I have had so many people offer to accompany me to chemo.  So many offers of love and support.
"Apparently I should throw more chemo parties!" I commented to Paul one day!  "they are making me feel all popular and stuff!"

Anyways, today Mary-Ann accompanied me.  We go way back.  I knew her when I was in Grade 2 and she was in Grade 1.  We became friends when we were 16 and 17 and enjoyed many silly, care-free memories together.  We married men from Burlington and moved to Hamilton.  We both have 4 children who are born in the same years.  We are still friends who share a wonky (yes, wonky) sense of humor!  She is another connection in the life of Brigette.  Today, Mary-Ann got to watch me sleep.  I'm sure she was very entertained and rushed home to write in her diary...."Dear Diary.  Brigette slept so much today.  I feel that I know her better as a friend.  Ps.  Her nostrils really do flare when she sleeps!  Eeek.  I hope mine don't do that.  Will have to ask hubby to watch me sleep.  "
When I wasn't sleeping during this chemo round, it went very well.  I am so tired because I take an anti-anxiety med and I have to take some Benadryl to halt any allergic reactions that this chemo medicine could cause.  So I slept, then went home and slept.  I will sleep again soon.  No nausea.  Woot! Let's high five!

And Chemo Round #6 is over!  I feel good.  Only two more rounds to go!  There is a bell hanging just outside the room where the cancer patients go to receive their chemo.  This bell was donated some years ago and people are encouraged to ring it if they have some "ringable" or cheerful news.  Mostly though, this bell is rung when someone has finished all their rounds of chemo.
I just can't wait to make that bell chime, baby!


Some final thoughts:

Sometimes God takes us kicking and screaming down a painful path, doesn't He?  We just want to scream out "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING???  THIS IS WAAAAAY MORE THAN I CAN HANDLE!!!!"
Look out for the connections to be made on this new path; they are there in the form of old acquaintances or new relationships.  They are the arms of Jesus wrapped around you so tightly and lifting you up and strengthening you.  Because when you are weak, you ARE strong.  Strong in Him.
Tonight, I am strong because of Him and the connections that He gave me and gives me.  Look for your connections.  They are there, building you up, making up who you are and where you are in this crazy life.

Till we meet again,
Brigette

 The painting of Princess Point.  Wow, isn't it?





Thursday 12 November 2015

O Mother, Where Art Thou?

About a week ago, my sister, Crystal, called me.
It was early in the evening and I was in the middle of reading some bedtime stories to my youngest children.

"Hey Brigette.  Listen, did you get mom's email?  Now, don't freak out, okay...." she breathed into the phone.
Instantly my heart began to hammer in my chest, my palms began to sweat and I began to freak out.

"What now??" I whined letting the children's book I was holding fall away from my grasp.

"It's mom.  She's been undergoing a series of tests over the last few weeks...."

Over the last few weeks?  What, you mean the last few weeks when she has been babysitting for me? When she has accompanied me on appointments?  When she has listened to me whine about how many times I barfed and then patiently sat there while I go into graphic details about each barf session?  Who folds my laundry when I hardly dare to?  Who has said nothing about any health concerns during all this time.....??

Back to the phone call and my sister.

"It seems that mom has been diagnosed with cancer..."

There's that word again.  That stupid, life-sucking word....

"....it's Stage 1 Endometrial Cancer."

"Oh man," I breathed.  Can our family really handle another cancer hurdle?  I remember feeling like a giant weight was pressing down on my chest.  Mom, sick?


Will you allow me to digress?   Oh goodie.....get some tea and crumpets!

Once upon a time...about 38 years ago...I met this lovely woman.  She had brown hair and blue eyes and the softest hands.  She was a wonderful woman who loved to laugh, go walking and have fun.   She was not afraid of my screaming temper tantrums - even when I held my breath until I turned blue - and held me when I cried and cried and cried in infancy.  She was one for adventure and would often take me and my siblings camping even if my dad could not be there because of work.  She loved to read us stories and would spend hours doing just that.  One day she let us colour her face with crayons while she slept and this only became awkward when she forgot her colourful facial and answered the door later on in the day.  She always had time for our grievances and gave the best back scratches.

Skip ahead to school days.
Each school day, my siblings and I would come home to tea, snack and chat time.  Mom would ask about our day and we would pour out our thoughts, problems, annoyances, irritations while she listened.
She drove us to hockey practices and games, swimming practises and meets, track and field and cross country practises, karate, figure skating, gymnastics, piano, rugby, synchronized swimming, catechism class.........and I don't remember her ever complaining....

Skip ahead to University days.
Each day, I remember being so busy with reading, essay writing, studying, reading, reading, writing and reading....
Mom would come into my room with a giant mug of coffee or tea and a snack.
"How's it going?" she would ask, massaging my knotted shoulders for a minute or two.
"Ugh.....!" I would dramatically sigh....."I have so much to do!"
She would leave quietly with the promise to check up on me soon.

Skip ahead to boyfriend years.
Me sobbing on mom's shoulder.  Me asking for advice.  Mom listening.  Mom offering her thoughts.
Mom wedding dress shopping with me when Paul and I were engaged.

Skip ahead to teacher years.
Every year, mom would join me before school began and would help out in my classroom.  Cutting out things.  Putting nametags on other things.  Sharpening pencils.  Arranging desks.

Skip ahead to marriage and baby years.
Me calling mom.
"Waaaaaaah.....I can't be a mom!  It's too hard.  The baby keeps on crying...."
Before the conversation is even over, mom is in the car.
"I'm coming, Brigette.  Hang in there."
A short while later, mom enters my home.  Usually with a box full of groceries, coffee and a snack to go with coffee.  She would take the wailing infant and order me to bed.
"You sure?" I would sniffle as I shuffled off to my beautiful beautiful bed and collapsed in a heap.
Mom would take said-wailing infant on a walk and do all my laundry and be tidying something before I awoke.
"Thanks, mom!" I would say when I woke up some time later feeling slightly more human than before.

Skip ahead to me being diagnosed with cancer.
"Hi, mom.....so I think I may have cancer.  Paul and I find out tomorrow.."
Before the conversation is over, mom has promised to babysit while we go to the appointment, to make dinner for that night and to help out in any other way that she can.
When she arrived, she had a smile pasted over the anxiety on her face.
"I have pie!" she bravely declared through tears threatening to fall, "and wine."
I remember quirking an eyebrow: What sort of party was mom hoping to throw?


Skip back to that phone call with Crystal.

"So mom had been going through a lot of tests and the doctors have discovered she has Stage 1 Endometrial Cancer."

"What does this mean?" I asked through a deep dread settling in my chest and tears beginning to streak down my face.

"It's stage 1 so that is good.  The doctors think that with surgery she should be okay.  She shouldn't need chemotherapy or radiation."

"Okay."

"And she emailed all of us kids."

"Emailed...." I said flatly, "Why wouldn't she call us?"

"She doesn't want to burden us especially with what has been going on lately...."replied Crystal.

Burden us?  But hasn't that been what I have been doing all these years to her?  Burdening her with my blue-faced tempers, my need for taxi services, my demand for advice and back-scratches, my whiney phone calls about crying babies?

O Mother, where art thou?  You have always been there.  For me.  For my siblings.  We may not have always seen eye-to-eye but you have always been there.  Usually with food.

After my phone call with Crystal, I contacted my parents and told them I was coming down.
To see them.  To hug and kiss them and cry with them.  To pray with them and ask God to guide us through this time.  To be with them.

Because their news is not a burden.   Mom's news is not a burden.  She did not make a choice to have this happen to her.  She would have preferred to have this happen AFTER some other of our family's trials were all dealt with but this was not God's plan!

So I will strive to rise up and meet her with life's newest challenge.

Mom, we can be a mother-daughter-cancer-couple and share inside cancer jokes and experiences.  Maybe I can point out my favourite medications and we can convalesce together ruminating on the good old days when we had all our body parts.

Either way, mom, you are not a burden.  Let me, let all your children surround you with love and care and coddling.  We can scratch your back.  We will be there to return the loads of love you have given us over the years.  And we're bringing some food!


"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."  Isaiah 55: 8, 9

Finding the Can't in Cancer

Yesterday was Remembrance Day and while many gathered at cenotaphs to remember, Paul and I were on our way to the Juravinski Centre.
We watched several warplanes circle the Warplane Museum, preparing for their place in the Remembrance Day ceremonies, and we drove on.

Yesterday, in my little world, was Chemo #5 Day.
I am officially over half-way done my chemo treatment.
I was nervous.  I had come to know how to deal with the last chemo medicine colloquially referred to as the "red devil" by the nurses administering it.  I knew what sorts of medicines to take and when; how much food to eat and on what days; that I wouldn't be able to enjoy coffee or most food tastes for several days after chemotherapy.  Better the devil you know, right??
But these next 4 chemo sessions are with a new drug and I was nervous.  This was a devil I did not know....
I was told by my oncologist, by his nurse, by my favourite breast cancer survivor and supporter, Sonja Heeringa that this chemotherapy was a much gentler kind.

"It causes little to no nausea!"
"These sessions of chemo were my preferred!"
"You will feel much better after these rounds!"

So many assurances but skepticism, cynicism, doubt and fear crept in and laid down their own shadowy words....
"What if you get even more sick than before?" Skepticism drawled.
"Hmmmm, seems to me that what was a surety for everyone else with the other chemo was not the case for you..." slurred Cynicism.
"They're probably all just trying to make you feel better," stated Fear and Doubt.

So, it was with mixed feelings that I made my way to the Juravinski Centre yesterday, Paul at my side.

In preparation, I had to take steroids 12 hours and 6 hours before the chemo administration time.  This  meant I had to stay up late....take steroids...and then wake up in the wee hours of the morning to take more steriods....and in the middle of all this, get a good night's sleep.  Thankfully, the doctors said I could take some good old melatonin (a nice natural medicine to aid sleeping) and while my body wondered whether it should get all excited and wired or sleepy and lazy, I slept!  Haha, body, gotcha!

Okay, back to the drive.  We got to the centre, signed in and waited.  Apparently, to add to the fun, this chemo often causes an allergic reaction.
"So, you may experience shortness of breath, rashes or...." gently explained the sweet-voiced nurse as we were being led to the lazy-boy chair where I would sit for the duration of my infusion.
My brain stopped listening as I mentally eye-rolled.  Honestly, I would pay for some pharmaceutical company to come up with a nice side-effect to offset all these nasty ones.  Shortness of breath; deep bone pain; but you will fart rainbows!  Nausea; fatigue and you will smell like roses!
Seriously, cut us cancer patients some slack here!

Now, where was I??  Oh yeah......so to counter the possible allergic reaction, TA-DAH....another medicine!!!!  Hurrah!
So, insert some Benadryl and wait.
I had also taken some other medication at home to help my with my needle anxiety so while I waited, I became sleepy.
The nurse came and inserted the IV needle (ick) and the infusion began.   There was no allergic reaction!  No shortness or breath.  No rash.  No farting rainbows (rats!)  No smelling like roses (double rats!)

This was a longer infusion.....4 hours from beginning to end.
Paul and I chatted.
Paul and I chatted wth a man sitting next to us.

"You gotta stay positive!" he said, "it's all in your attitude!"  Amen, brother!

We chatted some more but then my eyelids began to droop and I felt like I was beginning to slur...
"I's jes gonna shleep for a sec..." I garbled and I slept for 2 hours straight.
I would like to think that during that time, Paul gazed at my sleeping form in adoration, memorizing the sweet way that my nostrils flared with each inhalation.  You know what, I'm just going to go on thinking that!

When I awoke it was to find someone new beside me.  One lady receiving chemotherapy and one woman sitting beside her.  We exchanged stories.

"What are you in for?" asked the support lady.
"Breast cancer.  You?"  I countered.
"Lung cancer.  And some on my bones.  This is my 11th round so far," answered the patient.
"Wow....." Paul and I answered, gazing at her with something akin to admiration mixed with horror.
"Yeah.  I don't really know how many rounds the doctors want me to do but I will just keep coming...."
"Wow...." I said again...not really knowing what else to say.

So many people here.  So many suffering but still living.
Cancer can knock you down, can't it?
But cancer can't take it all away.
It can end a life but it can't take it all away.

Someone at church dropped a lovely note into my mailbox but I don't know who you are.  Thank you!  This note is lovely and hangs on my kitchen wall.

Here is what the note says:

What Cancer Cannot Do

Cancer is so limited
It cannot cripple love, it cannot
shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith, it cannot
destroy peace.
It cannot kill friendship, it cannot
suppress memories.
It cannot silence courage, it cannot
invade the soul.
It cannot steal eternal life,
it cannot
conquer the spirit.

Between each of these lines in the note is a passage from the Bible.  Here's what it says:

"Yet in all these things
We are more than conquerors through
Him who loved us
For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life
Nor principalities, nor powers,
Nor things present, nor things to come
Nor height, depth, nor any created things,
Shall be able to separate us
from the love of God
Which is in Christ Jesus, our LORD."  Romans 8:37-39

Here is what cancer does do.

It takes me down a new path in life; an adventure that I didn't want to take but am on nonetheless.  It has let me meet countless new people.....Daniella, my primary VON, with her proud stories of her 6-year old son; Jodie Wallace the first nurse to give me an infusion; Dr. Levine, Dr. Hodgson, my radiologist, the countless people I meet during each infusion appointment ......and many others at the Juravinski Centre.  I love meeting them and hearing their stories.....and sharing mine with them.  Because of cancer, our lives are intertwined.

Cancer has challenged me.  I didn't want this challenge but it is here.  I have been sick and leaned over the toilet bowl many times over these past weeks.
I've have the shortest haircut I have ever had in my life.  Even at birth, I had longer hair.
Now I get to see what my skull looks like.  It is a fine-looking skull, so there!

Cancer has let me glimpse my mortality and strive to be better, love harder, live fuller.
I will not go gentle into that good night.
I will rage rage against the dying of the light.

Brigette











Wednesday 28 October 2015

'Cause Everybody Hurts Sometimes

I was on a hike recently.  It was a Sunday afternoon and we had some time before our evening service so a hike seemed like a wonderful thing to do.  The sky was a brilliant blue and the leaves were bedecked in a colourful display.  The closest hike trail to my home is a rail trail so that is where I headed with our trusty yellow lab and my trusty 4 children.  We spilled forth from the car, untangled ourselves from the dog's leash, rearranged our jackets and set out.  The thing about rail trails is that they tend to be very straight and the same and just lack sweeping vistas, fallen trees to climb, mossy ponds to explore and an abundance of wildlife.  Therefore they are not my favourite flavour of hike; apparently my feelings have been shared and absorbed and my children are becoming a similar flavour of hiking-snob.
"This is not a real hike," Donovan snorted kicking at the gravel (GRAVEL!) path.
"There's no where to go but straight..."  Liam dragged out the word so that the word "straight" became a word synonymous with "SO-BORING".....I even thought I saw his eyes beginning to work an eye-roll but he is only 10 and hasn't yet perfected that disdainful gesture......something to do with a direct correlation of the gravitational pull on eyes and the teenaged years, I've heard.
"I'm tired.  My legs are broken.  I can't walk."  This from my four-year-old Lochlan who has decided that feeling tired or just not wanting to walk means that his legs are broken.  This is very hilarious when you are not the one faced with the prospect of carrying said grumpy, tired 4-year-old along with holding onto the leash of uber hyper Lab puppy whose legs are definitely not broken and who is definintely not tired but is hurling himself with high energy and speed in any direction.
"Mom, can we go on a real hike?" whined Gwen; adding to the sour harmony of disquiet and discontent on a hike that was supposed to bring peace.

Sometimes hikes are like that.
Sometimes days are like that.
Sometimes life is like that.

Peppered along the straight, boring rail trail are park benches.  Beautifully arranged and situated where the view does open up and where one can take a moment to enjoy it and rest.  I came close to one and noticed a plaque; a plaque inscribed with the same text that has been inscribed on my heart and on my life these last few months especially.

"God is my refuge and strength, a very-present help in trouble"  Psalm 46: 1

A text that has become our school theme, family theme and that keeps popping up like God is reminding our family again and again and again and again......that He IS our refuge; He IS our strength and He IS there in the midst of this trouble that we are in.

I saw that text sitting there on the park bench and I felt God, not just in the sweet autumn scents of the fresh fall air, not just in the twitterings of birds swooping overhead, not just in the colourful leaves floating down on streams of autumn air.....but I felt God in His words:
"I am your refuge, I am your stength, I am very-present in the midst of trouble"

It's so comforting to be assured of God's presence in days of turmoil isn't it?
Here is the plaque:
Look closely.  read the text.  Lovely, right.  Now notice that this is not just for me but rather dedicated to a little girl, a "little angel called back to heaven."
Ugh.

I read and snapped a picture of it on my phone and thoughts kept swirling around my head.  Soon, my lovely 4 blessings and our energetic dog wrestled our way back to our car and drove home.  I felt unsettled.  Comforted by God's words that I had found on a hike, but unsettled nonetheless.

My cancer diagnosis hurts.  It hurts because of the way it is so terrifying to hear Cancer associated with my name.  It is terrifying because of the uncertainties this brings to my family life.  I want to be a strong parent for my beautiful children and my wonderful husband but there are days when I am bed-ridden and cannot be.  It is terrifying because I don't know what God has planned in the long run for me and my family.   And I worry about them.....my babies....
But my hurt is not alone.
Look at that plaque.
A family hurts because a loved one is gone....
They are not alone....
A beloved loved one whose years-long disease eroded all natural chances of childbearing and now she and her husband ache for babies that never came....
They are not alone....
I have seen depression lead loved ones to feel that the only way that they can bring joy to their families is by erasing themselves.......violent suicide..
They are not alone...
A beloved friend saw her brother pass away from cancer and then she was diagnosed with cancer one month later...
She is not alone....
A young mother waved good bye to her husband; he took some interested buyers on a test drive of his truck.  She never saw him alive again...
She is not alone...
A father's cancer is back.  He is in so much pain but bravely faces more treatments...
He is not alone...
Isis...
Hurricanes..

Today the rain drops streak all my house windows like giant tears from heaven and I think that if there is one thing that unites us all, it is suffering.

Death sorrow sadness uncertainty grief hot tears falling down down down

We all hurt sometimes, don't we?  You can add your list of sorrows to mine.  Our list will be long.  Watch the news and add some more.
Our world is not a comfortable place to be in.  It is broken and uncertain.

These are the thoughts I had when I saw that plaque.

And then I began to hear in my mind the opening lines to an old song that struck a melancholic chord in my once teenaged mind....remember R.E.M.?  (the band?)  They released this song in 1993, I believe, and it is called "Everybody Hurts".  The tempo is slow, low,  and it will resonate with you especially if you are feeling hurt.
The music video is excellent.  A car pulls up to a traffic jam and the camera begins to sweep over all the cars and the individuals inside the car.  Subtitles offer the watcher a glimpse of the thoughts of all these car-bound people.   They are not a happy bunch.
"Stop singing stop singing stop singing" thinks one teenaged boy
"She is gone" ruminates an old man with red-rimmed eyes
"No one can see me" contemplates a lip-sticked woman as she glances side to side.
It is a video that illustrates so much of life.  We are all on a journey in this life.  We exist within the bubbles we have created - us, our family, maybe some friends - and so often we feel at a standstill, stuck, mired perhaps in sorrows or hurt or grief but certainly in loneliness.

The song's climax or crescendo is when one of the R.E.M. guys steps out of his car and begins belting out "HOLD ON HOLD ON HOLD ON HOLD ON....." and while his voice echoes over the stalled traffic, car doors open and everyone steps out and begins walking together.  No longer isolated in their cars, they move forward.

I love the imagery of this song.  We suffer in this life, but we are NOT alone.  There are those suffering alongside us.  With us.  We suffer in this life and feel stuck, unable to move forward but when we reach out and allow others to walk with us, we can move.
R.E.M. belts out "hold on" and it always troubled me that they don't mention what we should hold on to and that brings my brain-thinkings full circle to that plaque. You know, the one in the above photograph that I found on my rail trail hike?

God.
After all, He is the one who peppers my life with people.  Family.  Friends.  Church family.  Neighbours.  Random people met in random places.  Old friends that I haven't seen in years.  When we step outside of the bubble of our life and share our pain and sorrows, the load is lighter and we can move forward.

God is my refuge.  I can hide in my confidence that He has a plan in all this.  I am significant.  You are significant.  if you are here, He has a job, a place, a love for you and me.  He's not done with us yet!

God is my strength.  He gives me strength through His words and even puts His words where He is sure I will read them.....on a hike!  God is obvious.  Do you see Him?  Do you hear Him?

God is my ever-present help in trouble.  I'm in trouble.  My hair keeps falling out, I am tired and cranky, and sometimes I worry about what the future will bring.  God is always there to reassure me.  In fact, He constantly does with all the people around me.  My kitchen is completely filled with cards of people thinking of and praying for my family.

Are you in trouble?
Do you hurt?

Everybody does sometimes.

Let's reach out to one another.  Lift each other up the way God wants us to.  Hold on to each other and hold on to Him.

This blog is dedicated to Herman Faber.  I saw Herman in the chemo suite yesterday and Paul and I hugged Herman and his wife, Joanne.  Herman had cancer 13 years ago, beat it but then it came back.  Despite recent chemo and treatments, the cancer prevails.   It prevails but it will not win, Herman.  Hold on.  Hold on to God and to all those people in your path; they are there from God to help carry you through.

This blog is dedicated to all those who hurt.  You know who you are.  Someday, God will dry every one of our tears; and I have a LOT , so I will be keeping Him busy for a while; but you will have your turn!

Today marks the halfway point of my chemotherapy treatments.  In fact, today was the last of the "red devil" chemo.  Only four more chemo rounds to go!  I am happy, I am....underneath the melancholy and the anxiety; the fears for tomorrow and the tears for today.

Everybody hurts and today I am taking a small turn.
But I am holding on....don't worry.

Do me a favour.  Hold on too.  Let's pray for each other.
God bless,
Brigette









Wednesday 14 October 2015

Take a Hike, Chemo Three, and take Nausea with You! Of Hikes and Hallways.

For all who remain unaware, today is Wednesday (all day even).  For those in my little world, that translates into "today is HIKE day" and this is a glorious occasion.

Will you allow me to backtrack and explain a little?  Will you abide by while I explain?  I will attempt to be succinct although I am not certain my succincting gene was properly installed.....

Well, here goes.....once upon a time, long ago and far away I fell in LOVE with hiking.  The crunch of the gravel path underfoot; the colourful canopy of tree branches raised in supplication above; the walls that were not walls at all but, instead, promises of new paths that could be taken....I found all of this so alluring.

Perhaps it was the family walks my mom and dad, Crystal, Tim, Conrad and I used to take together after church on Sundays.  A lovely walk down tree-lined hills towards a little waterfall on the Grand River.  Perhaps it was a gene passed on from my walk-loving mother.  Perhaps it was all the camping and outings we had in Elora Gorge Park or the Elora Quarry, where every walk was transformed into a breathtaking hike along immense cliffs.  Either way, I fell in love with hikes.

As I grew older and had children,  I met other women who shared this love.  Together we would strap on our children in slings and carrying backpacks, load up a few more in double strollers, equip any of the tiny walkers with appropriate hiking attire and set out.  Hiking is always awesome.  Hiking with kids is hilarious awesome!  Whereas I can get preoccupied with getting from Starting Point to Destination, my tiny hikers have taught me (time and time and time again) that the hike is all in the details.  The tiny caterpillar crawling across the path, glimpses of white-tailed deer running for their life from the racket we bring into nature, beautiful blossoms shyly lifting their faces to the sun, birds eating from our hands, muskrats, wood ducks, snakes that hiss a warning, caves that must be explored, trees that beg to be climbed, swamps that beckon.......so many details to witness when hiking with children...

"A CATERPILLAR!  We should watch him, mom."
"Why does he move like that?  Why are his colours brown and black?  What does he eat?  Did God make him too?"

"Mom, look at this frog I just caught!  Yes, I am wearing my good running shoes.  No, I did not realize that I wasn't supposed to get soaking wet already on this hike.....  but look at this frog's face when I kiss him!"

"MOM!  Look at how high I can climb in this tree!  Mom!  Look!  Uh, mom.....can you come and get me out.  Mom, I'm scared....MOM?  MOM?"

"Mom, I hafta pee.....can I pee on this flower or that flower?  Now I hafta poo...."

But when I began to homeschool and my hiking companions began to send their kids to "away school", our schedules became too different for regular hiking times.  Bye-bye regular hiking with Amanda and Mar....:(
That was when I discovered the hiking group within Beacon of Hope Homeschool Group.  Hello!  This group had been hiking together for years and years and years.  I recognized in these ladies a similar glint of insanity when it comes to being outside with our kids......a similar raw NEED to be there.

(side note: yes, I will get to the part where my treatment for today weighs in.  Be patient, make yourself a tea.  We will get there together, you and I.  We will get there together.)


Back to the crazy, hike-lovin' ladies I met.  The routine that had been established was that we would meet together on Wednesday mornings at different locations around our city:  Iroquois Heights, Red Hill Creek, Sanctuary Park, Canterbury Hills, Tiffany Falls, Eramosa Karsts.....like the stuff out of Tolkien book!  Whoever could make it out to the scheduled hike, would come out.  These hikes are glorious and unrefined and beautiful.  We meet together, strap on babies with slings or carriers, load up littles into strollers, equip bigger kids with shoes and walking sticks and set off.  There are usually at least 6 or 7 mothers on an average day with about 24 children.  Our vans pull up to the trail-head and children tumble and spill out in eager excitement.  Before you could holler, "WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU KIDS ARE DOING?" those children are in trees, poking under rocks and exploring.  We have hand fed chickadees and white-breasted nuthatches; witnessed white-tailed deer grazing; spied on muskrats building their homes; assisted a stuck salmon on its salmon run; examined white trilliums growing boldly in the spring and held salamanders gently before releasing them back into their natural habitat.   It is a glorious, wonderous, marvelous couple of hours spent in nature.

Back when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer and felt as if the "earth had given way" beneath me, my oncologist said that we should begin our chemotherapy treatments and that Wednesday would be the day.
Before I could stop myself, I held out a hand and  I blurted, "Oh no no no I can't!  That's my hike day..."
Silence fell.
My oncologist looked at me blandly from under his great, bushy grey eyebrows (I think he even raised one of those bushy boys in a sardonic manner!)
"We do want to help you get better...." he paused dryly to allow the weigh-in of hike vs chemo to sink in.  I think I overheard some crickets chirping for a few moments......crickets hate dead silences.  So do barking dogs.  A dog barked in the distance.

See, I need chemo to get better.  I understand that and I am so thankful to live close to the Juravinski Centre so that this is an easily accessible option.  I choose chemo.  I have to to get better.  It is part of the process, God willing, that will restore my health.
But......oh Hiking.....it restores my soul.
When I am out in nature, plugged in to it, filling my nostrils with its scents, and feasting my eyes on the detailed delights of leaves, birds, bugs and critters, I feel God.  He is all around in His creation.  I feel relaxed, rejuvinated, restored.  I feel Him in the beauty and the details, I feel His assurance, comfort, strength and love so immensely when I am in nature.

Hallways make me feel closed in, captured, cramped, claustrophobic.
But for a time, my hike day has been hijacked by hallways.  White, pristine, window covered hallways.  Where your shoes squeak on the tiled floor and the smells are all of some chemical.   Where the only animals allowed are guide-animals strictly adhering to their job.  Where you are expected to go from destination to destination and not explore.  I am confined.

Today was Chemo Three!  My Mother-in-Law accompanied me while my Mom stayed home with my tiny explorers.  We arrived and my mother-in-law promptly made several friends with various patients in the waiting room.  She has this gift for being able to get to know anyone who make eye-contact!
Wrapped up in warm blankets, the vile Chemo Three was administered.  I slept and my mother-in-law giggled along to the book that she was reading.
"It's HILARIOUS, Brigette, you have to read it!"  I really should read this book, I have been hearing about it's hilarity for some time.

Then all was done and we hiked through the hallways and made our way home.  All night, I have been eating little so as not to arouse the suspicians of my inner organs.  My theory is the less I feed them so soon after Chemo, the less likely they are to arouse Nausea.   Because I have a little something to say to Nausea but I will whisper it, "I am done with Chemo Three.  Hurrah!  So, take a hike, Nausea!"

So far, so good..........

Thank you for suffering through the ramblings of this baldish girl.  Thank you for caring, thank you for praying, thank you for your cards, meals and thoughts.  God is so good to us through you!  He is our strength through you.  Thank you so much, from myself and Paul, Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lochlan

"The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul."  Psalm 23: 1-3a















Wednesday 30 September 2015

Down WIth You, Chemo Two!

Accompanied by my sweet mother, I made my way to Chemo Two.  My sweet mother-in-law was babysitting.  I pretended not to hear Donovan striking up a rhythm on the downstairs drum kit or Gwen and Lochlan cranking up the tunes on the CD player, or Liam cracking baseballs over the neighbour's fence......
"Good luck and have fun!" I called over my shoulder, shuddering briefly at the mess of half folded newspapers, library books, colouring pages and various other childhood-must-haves scattered across any horizontal surface of my home.  My mother-in-law lifted a hand limply in a gesture of farewell; but I saw that she was armed with coffee and would be just fine!

Chemo Two was quick and went well.  When I was all jittery and bouncing around before the iv was put in, a little older woman who brought to mind the little older woman from "The War Room" glanced up from the Bible she was pouring over and smiled at me.  "Just said a prayer for you, hon!"  she stated, "You'll be alright."

And it was alright.  My mom reassured me and held me hand when it needing holding....the nurses distracted me with jokes and stories.  Soon it was over and I was home.

Now, I sit, vaguely uneasy of belly and wait and pray that this time, vomit stays put.

Have a great night!  Lots of love
Brigette

Tuesday 29 September 2015

Let's Talk About Hair, Baby!

Greetings all!

Tonight is the night before Chemo Round Number Two.
After round number one, I felt all positive and cheerful and pumped up.
"Woo yeah!  Down with you, Chemo!" was how I felt.
But that night, chemo Took Me Down.  Wowsers!
The celebratory supper I had enjoyed with my family that evening exploded up out of me like something from a really horrible and scary movie that involved exorcizing!  It was ugly.  And not the "beautiful kind of ugly."  This was nasty ugly.  Yucky.  Horrific.  Gut-gusting!
I kept trying to find the funny but this is terribly difficult with barf-chunks blocking your sinuses, you know what I am saying?
That night was less than fun.
The next day was similar.  I usually have a voracious appetite and food quivers fearfully before my gaping maw when I eat.  The day after Chemo One, however, I nibbled gingerly at the blandest food my hubby could find.
"Weak tea and tasteless baby crackers?" he proffered helpfully, standing (I noticed) a safe distance away lest vomit spray instantaneously from my face.
"Nibble nibble nibble sip sip" (that's the sound of me eating).
This episode would usually be followed by a record-breaking sprint to the nearest bathroom whereupon the before-mentioned food items would be delivered from my heaving innards.

So, in summary, I did not feel well after Chemo One.
On the bright side, there is a possibility that it was just the flu.  My little guy, Lochlan, was also sick the same night as me.  Poor little man. (don't tell him I called him "little"; he finds that infuriatingly condenscending.....)
Upon this dim hope, I hang my hopes for Chemo Two.  Let that just have been the flu....please?  Maybe Chemo Two will be a bland-piece-of-cake??
Time will tell.

But who wants to talk about being sick all night, right?

So, let's talk about Hair instead.  I know, I know....tonight's blog update is of the Grip-Your-Seats-And-Gnaw-Your-Nails-To-The-Quick flavour.  Sorry.  Perhaps we can discuss 18th Century Philosophy another night?

So, hair.....I've been thinking a lot about hair these past few weeks, particularly when faced with the impeding doom of losing it all (my hair, that is.  My mind I hope to hold on to for a bit longer....)

Originally I would have thought: whatever, it's just hair.  But hold on to that thought for a minute.  Consider your hair and it's evolution through-out the years of your life.  Consider your hair and what it says about you.  Consider hair, in general and the tales it tells.

Do you care about hair?
Growing showing knowing it's there
Shampoo it style it spray it into place
Colour it part it comb it back from your face
Teased twirled tossed
Parted
Braided bobbed bound in a bun
Straightened Curled Blown-Dry
Tied up in a pony tail or two
Checked carefully for GREY
every day....
Do you care about hair?

Tonight, consider the history of your hair.  If you have hair, there is a history.  And it is interesting....like the history of clothes or music or manners.  If you wish to add depth, tie in the history of your hair with the history of hairstyles in general.  Compare and contrast.  Consider what your hair history says about you.  Think about some Biblical significances of hair (Samson?  Absalom?)  What about Literature....Rapunzel?  Hmmm.....

Okay.  I will begin.  (you go next)  Here is my hair time-line.

Hairy Baby:  I was born with hair.  Yup.  My mom and dad always said, "You looked like a wee Inuit baby when you were born; you had tons of black hair."  It's true.  Photographic evidence always shows me looking all fat and disgruntled; back hair exploding from my head.  I looked like a reddish-skinned, chubby, black-haired Albert Einstein.

Helmet Head:  As I grew, so did my hair (yes, profound, I know) and I had a lot of it!  So that I could see, my mom cut this cute little bang fringe in the front of my hair and from out of this vast helmet of hair, I peered at the world.

Grunge Hair:  The early nineties were my teen years and I loved the grunge phase.  I'm not even sure if that was popular or current with the actual style of the times, but it was my style.  Long, heavy, dark hair parted in the middle and hanging way down my back.  Often it was fizzy.  And coordinated with my dad's brown sweater and, usually, silver pants.  These were great hair days!  The hair didn't look great, but it felt great!   You know what I'm saying?  Probably not.  It's a hair-memory-association thing.

University Hair:  It was still long but it became necessary to be bound up into shapeless pony tails for two reasons:  (1) to be out of the way so that I could read the giant stacks of books required to obtain my degree and (2) it was a great place to store all the pens and pencils I accumulated to write responses to all the books I was reading to gain that same degree.

Teacher Hair:  When I became a teacher at Timothy Christian School, I thought I should shape the University Hair into some sort of teacher-like semblance.  I wasn't sure really what that should look like and had this vague notion of a severe bun, but I just couldn't perfect that look.  Then I noticed a lot of the Grade 8 girls I was teaching had this messy bun thing going for them; so while they studied their studies, I would study them.  Teased, tousled, tossed up with bobby pins carelessly placed....it looked easy and I thought, if a Grade 8 girl can do it, surely can I!  Later I admitted defeat and just wore my hair Neatly Combed.

Mommy Hair:  No, I did not cut it all off.  It stayed long for a while, mostly because Paul has a hair-fetish and, with it long, he could play with it from across a room.   With the births of our lovely children (Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lochlan); my hair was often tossed into a shapeless pony tale or clipped back with whatever was on hand to clip it back.  This made mommy-ing easier.  Changing a diaper with hair curtaining forward just isn't cool.

Mommy of Children Out of the Baby Stages Hair:  I cut it.  Okay, I didn't cut it but my wonderful stylist did (Hi, Sarah!!).  I loved this cut and have worn it for several years because if it's working for you, why change it?  Shoulder-lengthish, layered, easy to style.

Current Hair:  Awkward brush cut that I pretend is my artsy-look.  Really, I look like a monkey; specifically one of those "mon chi chi" monkey dolls (totally Google that and you will see the resemblance!)   This came about last week.  I have been told hair loss from chemo typically happens after round two.  In preparation, my oncologist nurse suggested I cut my hair for the sake of our younger children.
"It prepares them for seeing you bald."  she said, "otherwise some children are almost scared of their moms."
Hmm....I had not thought about that at all.  Gotta prepare the hair so we don't scare, ya know?

Paul and I thought it would be a great family experience to have the kids help cut my hair short to give them something in all this mess that they have control over.  This idea seemed super wonderful until my Donovan's face lit up, he rubbed his hands together excitedly and said, "Sweet!  How ugly can we make you look?"  Those words did spark a tiny tremor of worry.  He began to ruminate over mohawks and rat-tails.....
But when the day came, it really was great.  Great as in hair-memory-great.  My beautiful children; my blessings gathered round me.  Each was equipped with scissors (somehow Lochlan had got his hands on giant kitchen shears) and they cut.  Liam tried to take charge, confidently giving directives as if he knew what he was doing.
"Guys, cut about this much off."  he said and he grabbed a hunk of hair and began sawing away at it.  Sarah would have been horrified!
Lochlan soon gave up the giant shears (and my ears gave a sigh of relief) and began vigorously brushing hair off my shoulders, my arms, my knees, my nose.....

Soon, giant tufts of hair covered the floor; looking as if several chinchillas had exploded.  The kids stepped back, happy with their work.
Paul stepped forward.  He was NOT happy about all this.  I could see it on him.

"It's just hair," I said evenly, willing him to crack a wildly hilarious joke as only Paul can.  But he didn't.  He quietly picked up the razor, rested his hand heavily on my shoulder and began to cut.  He evened out the awkwardly sliced and hacked up hair.  And still he cut.
"Just getting it to all match up," he mumbled.
"It'll grow back." I responded quietly.
Then we just let the silence of a buzzing razor, four children, a dog, three birds and one cat envelop us.
(Side-note here about love.  I used to think love was an uninhibited, wildly-charged, starry-eyed feeling.  There is that still.  But richer, today, is that love that stands grim-faced but steady, heavy-hearted but here, willing to even out my shorn tresses and call them beautiful, ready with a joke when my mood is darkened by despair.  Paul, this little Mon Chi Chi, loves you.  Thanks for the haircut!)

Wig-a-licious:  Today I found a wig.  It's cute and feminine and such.  If you see me and don't feel the urge to hand me a banana, I am wearing it.

So, hair.  It's got our history all wrapped up in it.  Consider yours.

The end.

"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered."  Matthew 10: 29-30