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
Wednesday 30 September 2015
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
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
Wednesday 16 September 2015
One Down!!!!!
Today was Chemo Day Number One. I tend to be a bit wordy and apologize about that. The condensed version is: chemo went well. Chemo one is done. The end.
If you wish, the slightly more wordy version is as follows:
I woke up to about nine texts on my phone awaiting me from family members and friends; each with encouraging words, beautifully uplifting Bible texts and love love love.....it was awesome and a great way to greet the day. Truthfully, though, I didn't feel anxious. Not yet. Apparently God has blessed with an acute ability to push off my anxieties. Well, for now.....today anyway. So I didn't feel anxious. I kept thinking, "Pshaw, I don't need to worry about a thing until after lunch." Time check......9am.....
My big boys (Liam and Donovan) and I quickly did our paper route together (during school time....eek....rectified by making it into a quick life lesson hurriedly titled "The Need for Flexibility In Dire Circumstances"; ah...now getting the papers done before chemo IS school time!)
We arrived home.....11am.....never one to waste valuable time, I ushered the kids into our official school room (the place where there are even more books lying around than the rest of our house). We worked together for a solid half hour and then broke for lunch. Lunch time! And now, the anxiety flooded in full force. Twitchy; irritated; heart palpitating....fun stuff like that.
Sister-in-law, Ashley, arrived a while later with cute little Harper to look after our sweet children: Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lochlan; and Paul and I left for the Juravinski Centre.
People often tell me I am brave or strong but I have a secret to tell you: I AM NOT. I do not like being sick. I DESPISE needles and on that car ride I told Paul, "I can't do this!" Giant wuss, huh? A friend sent me a song this week; it's called "He makes me Brave" and it is fitting. When you see me and think, "Wow she is so brave"; all that bravery is not me. It is God lifting me up and giving me strength upon strength upon strength. Because if it were all me....I would be running far far far from that pointy-evil thing everyone calls "needle"!
So, despite my obvious self-plunge into wussiness, God used Paul to encourage me and we made it from our car into the building and up to the Chemo Suite. We signed in and picked up my meds and settled into the waiting room. Ever wonder what a waiting room at a cancer clinic would be like? No? I never have either; but let me tell you anyway. It's cheerful. There is laughter and noise and joy. There are smiles and nods of encouragement and support. Volunteers offer drinks and snacks. Everyone is friendly and helpful. So amazing! So, we settled in. We were told that wait time could be up to two hours but were too jittery to do anything productive with that time. (oh yeah....I had to take some of those meds that we just picked up to prepare for chemo and 5 tablets were a steroid. Me on steroids....this alone should be a blog post. If you know me well, me on steroids is a scary thought! I felt like maybe I should work on my biceps or run a race or talk really really fast about a lot of things to Paul... .) Then a pharmacist consulted with me to talk about the meds I would be taking for anti-nausea; oh and the needles that I would get at home to keep white blood cells up (insert math lesson: 1 needle per day over 8 days after chemo x 8 rounds of chemo = how many needles? That's right......this needle-wuss will be facing down 64 needles + 8 chemo IVs before this is all through! Good stinking night! It's so crazy, I may laugh, cry or quote poetry. Okay, I probably won't quote poetry, but I can alway hope?)
Now, where was I before the math lesson took over.....oh yes....pharmacy consult. So, she was introducing me to all the anti-nausea meds and I did mostly pay attention. However, I was freaking out about the chemo and that freaking out was taking on crazy proportions due to the steriods coursing though me; and, my mind wanders sometimes (shhh.....secret two to not tell anyone. I have totally mastered that "Yes, yes, I am totally paying attention" look); so nodding sagely at the pharmacist while freaking out internally, my thoughts began to ponder something...and it just all comes back to words for me. The pharmacist is pointing out the medications and naming them and all I am thinking is, "Seriously? Must the names be that crazy? They are almost not even proper words because there are far too many consonants and far too few vowels in there. If I were to name a drug, I would give it a fun name like, "Fluffy-Bunny. Take two Fluffy-Bunnies before bed if you are feeling nauseous." Would that be so hard? We all know the drug-naming-people are uber-smart they don't need to give things a seventeen syllable, consonantal-loaded title to convince us!
With the consult done, Paul and I were led into the chemo room. Ever wondered about this room? It's big, bright and airy, lined with easy chairs that line the perimeter of the room. You sit down facing other people who are getting their chemo. Friendly nurses and cheerful volunteers are everywhere. We sat down and our chemo nurse came over to get us started. Anxiety was in full swing here; cold sweat, quick breaths, jittery legs, wildly pumping heart.....the nurse told me the first time was always the hardest because you don't know what to expect. She was getting me all prepped when I just got all worked up. I felt like just tearing out of there and speeding off, pounding some pavement to feel better. That used to work but I knew that it wouldn't this time. The nurse and Paul wadded up kleenexes and I got ready for the ................tiny.....prick............
"Okay, it's in." said the nurse.
"Wow, seriously? I am such a baby." I responded. Big huge enormous hurricane-gale-like sigh of relief.....and then the chemo began.
It was a short round....about 40 minutes altogether with 2 separate meds being administered one after the other. And it went well. Very well. I am so thankful for that.
Then it was over and we left. "WOOO HOOO!" I kept cheering to my now-cringing husband, "ONE DOWN!!!!" Feels good to know what chemo is all about. Armed with anti-nausea meds, we went home.
Our car had hardly stopped in the driveway when the front door burst open and out spilled the most beautiful sight....Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lachlan. Some of the greatest joys of our life! They hugged us and poked my bandaid site and led us inside. Aunt Ashley had made up a sign that the kids coloured that read "GO MOM GO!" Three pink balloons were with the sign. What an awesome reception.
I am so blessed. To have that sign, those kids cheering me on, my amazing husband, parents, sister, brothers, family and friends praying constantly..... Thank you, God, for Your amazing mercies even in times of turmoil.
I don't want cancer at all. I don't want to take this walk but I have to. This is the path God has chosen for me, my husband and kids, my parents and family, my friends.....and He makes me brave through all that support! Thank-you.
How do I feel now....icky. Nauseous and tired. But okay.
Have a great night.
Some extra quotes passed on to me:
From J.R.R.Tolkien:
"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.
"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who life to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."
From God:
"You [God] keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you."
Isaiah 26:3
If you wish, the slightly more wordy version is as follows:
I woke up to about nine texts on my phone awaiting me from family members and friends; each with encouraging words, beautifully uplifting Bible texts and love love love.....it was awesome and a great way to greet the day. Truthfully, though, I didn't feel anxious. Not yet. Apparently God has blessed with an acute ability to push off my anxieties. Well, for now.....today anyway. So I didn't feel anxious. I kept thinking, "Pshaw, I don't need to worry about a thing until after lunch." Time check......9am.....
My big boys (Liam and Donovan) and I quickly did our paper route together (during school time....eek....rectified by making it into a quick life lesson hurriedly titled "The Need for Flexibility In Dire Circumstances"; ah...now getting the papers done before chemo IS school time!)
We arrived home.....11am.....never one to waste valuable time, I ushered the kids into our official school room (the place where there are even more books lying around than the rest of our house). We worked together for a solid half hour and then broke for lunch. Lunch time! And now, the anxiety flooded in full force. Twitchy; irritated; heart palpitating....fun stuff like that.
Sister-in-law, Ashley, arrived a while later with cute little Harper to look after our sweet children: Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lochlan; and Paul and I left for the Juravinski Centre.
People often tell me I am brave or strong but I have a secret to tell you: I AM NOT. I do not like being sick. I DESPISE needles and on that car ride I told Paul, "I can't do this!" Giant wuss, huh? A friend sent me a song this week; it's called "He makes me Brave" and it is fitting. When you see me and think, "Wow she is so brave"; all that bravery is not me. It is God lifting me up and giving me strength upon strength upon strength. Because if it were all me....I would be running far far far from that pointy-evil thing everyone calls "needle"!
So, despite my obvious self-plunge into wussiness, God used Paul to encourage me and we made it from our car into the building and up to the Chemo Suite. We signed in and picked up my meds and settled into the waiting room. Ever wonder what a waiting room at a cancer clinic would be like? No? I never have either; but let me tell you anyway. It's cheerful. There is laughter and noise and joy. There are smiles and nods of encouragement and support. Volunteers offer drinks and snacks. Everyone is friendly and helpful. So amazing! So, we settled in. We were told that wait time could be up to two hours but were too jittery to do anything productive with that time. (oh yeah....I had to take some of those meds that we just picked up to prepare for chemo and 5 tablets were a steroid. Me on steroids....this alone should be a blog post. If you know me well, me on steroids is a scary thought! I felt like maybe I should work on my biceps or run a race or talk really really fast about a lot of things to Paul... .) Then a pharmacist consulted with me to talk about the meds I would be taking for anti-nausea; oh and the needles that I would get at home to keep white blood cells up (insert math lesson: 1 needle per day over 8 days after chemo x 8 rounds of chemo = how many needles? That's right......this needle-wuss will be facing down 64 needles + 8 chemo IVs before this is all through! Good stinking night! It's so crazy, I may laugh, cry or quote poetry. Okay, I probably won't quote poetry, but I can alway hope?)
Now, where was I before the math lesson took over.....oh yes....pharmacy consult. So, she was introducing me to all the anti-nausea meds and I did mostly pay attention. However, I was freaking out about the chemo and that freaking out was taking on crazy proportions due to the steriods coursing though me; and, my mind wanders sometimes (shhh.....secret two to not tell anyone. I have totally mastered that "Yes, yes, I am totally paying attention" look); so nodding sagely at the pharmacist while freaking out internally, my thoughts began to ponder something...and it just all comes back to words for me. The pharmacist is pointing out the medications and naming them and all I am thinking is, "Seriously? Must the names be that crazy? They are almost not even proper words because there are far too many consonants and far too few vowels in there. If I were to name a drug, I would give it a fun name like, "Fluffy-Bunny. Take two Fluffy-Bunnies before bed if you are feeling nauseous." Would that be so hard? We all know the drug-naming-people are uber-smart they don't need to give things a seventeen syllable, consonantal-loaded title to convince us!
With the consult done, Paul and I were led into the chemo room. Ever wondered about this room? It's big, bright and airy, lined with easy chairs that line the perimeter of the room. You sit down facing other people who are getting their chemo. Friendly nurses and cheerful volunteers are everywhere. We sat down and our chemo nurse came over to get us started. Anxiety was in full swing here; cold sweat, quick breaths, jittery legs, wildly pumping heart.....the nurse told me the first time was always the hardest because you don't know what to expect. She was getting me all prepped when I just got all worked up. I felt like just tearing out of there and speeding off, pounding some pavement to feel better. That used to work but I knew that it wouldn't this time. The nurse and Paul wadded up kleenexes and I got ready for the ................tiny.....prick............
"Okay, it's in." said the nurse.
"Wow, seriously? I am such a baby." I responded. Big huge enormous hurricane-gale-like sigh of relief.....and then the chemo began.
It was a short round....about 40 minutes altogether with 2 separate meds being administered one after the other. And it went well. Very well. I am so thankful for that.
Then it was over and we left. "WOOO HOOO!" I kept cheering to my now-cringing husband, "ONE DOWN!!!!" Feels good to know what chemo is all about. Armed with anti-nausea meds, we went home.
Our car had hardly stopped in the driveway when the front door burst open and out spilled the most beautiful sight....Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lachlan. Some of the greatest joys of our life! They hugged us and poked my bandaid site and led us inside. Aunt Ashley had made up a sign that the kids coloured that read "GO MOM GO!" Three pink balloons were with the sign. What an awesome reception.
I am so blessed. To have that sign, those kids cheering me on, my amazing husband, parents, sister, brothers, family and friends praying constantly..... Thank you, God, for Your amazing mercies even in times of turmoil.
I don't want cancer at all. I don't want to take this walk but I have to. This is the path God has chosen for me, my husband and kids, my parents and family, my friends.....and He makes me brave through all that support! Thank-you.
How do I feel now....icky. Nauseous and tired. But okay.
Have a great night.
Some extra quotes passed on to me:
From J.R.R.Tolkien:
"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.
"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who life to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."
From God:
"You [God] keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you."
Isaiah 26:3
Friday 11 September 2015
Let's Call It Trouble!
Today was another day spent at the Juravinski Cancer Centre and I just have to say again that we are so thankful that we live close to this amazing facility! We met with our oncologist and his nurse to discuss the next leg in our journey together and to give a name to the particular cancer that God has placed on our path. The oncologist called it Stage III Invasive Ductal breast cancer.
Pause here.....if you have limited knowledge of the stages of cancer, stage 3 may sound scary. Weeks ago, I would have run terrified to hear that my cancer is stage 3, but the last few weeks of reading up and researching so as to understand my condition better had me expecting this. In my case, stage 3 is due to the fact that one of my tumors is larger than 5cm, NOT because the cancer has spread to other parts of my body. The cancer, insofar as tests illustrate, is contained.
Okay, so the oncologist calls it Stage 3 Invasive Ductal cancer but let's you and I call it Trouble!
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have TROUBLE. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33
So, Trouble has arrived and we have an earthly game-plan. Chemotherapy will begin next Wednesday (even though that is our homeschool hike day! Wah!) and will run every second Wednesday for a total of eight rounds/ sessions. That should take us to December and then the doctors will book a mastectomy and then radiation. It's a long road ahead and apparently, much of my hikes will occur in the halls of the Juravinski Centre.......
Trouble is here and will not get out of my path and we have another game-plan. Trouble, you've already been overcome! Tonight, Paul and I have peace knowing of God's assurances despite our troubles. And, everyone, your prayers and thoughts and emails/ texts/ FB messages...they also assure us of God's presence. God makes us brave. God gives us courage and strength and so much of that is done through you. Your kind words and prayers. Your talks over the back fence. The meals you bring, the care for our children and the love you send. Thank-you and God bless you!
Pause here.....if you have limited knowledge of the stages of cancer, stage 3 may sound scary. Weeks ago, I would have run terrified to hear that my cancer is stage 3, but the last few weeks of reading up and researching so as to understand my condition better had me expecting this. In my case, stage 3 is due to the fact that one of my tumors is larger than 5cm, NOT because the cancer has spread to other parts of my body. The cancer, insofar as tests illustrate, is contained.
Okay, so the oncologist calls it Stage 3 Invasive Ductal cancer but let's you and I call it Trouble!
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have TROUBLE. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33
So, Trouble has arrived and we have an earthly game-plan. Chemotherapy will begin next Wednesday (even though that is our homeschool hike day! Wah!) and will run every second Wednesday for a total of eight rounds/ sessions. That should take us to December and then the doctors will book a mastectomy and then radiation. It's a long road ahead and apparently, much of my hikes will occur in the halls of the Juravinski Centre.......
Trouble is here and will not get out of my path and we have another game-plan. Trouble, you've already been overcome! Tonight, Paul and I have peace knowing of God's assurances despite our troubles. And, everyone, your prayers and thoughts and emails/ texts/ FB messages...they also assure us of God's presence. God makes us brave. God gives us courage and strength and so much of that is done through you. Your kind words and prayers. Your talks over the back fence. The meals you bring, the care for our children and the love you send. Thank-you and God bless you!
Tuesday 8 September 2015
Postponed
At the beginning of what was a wonderful and relaxing long weekend with friends, we received a phone call from my oncologist. Apparently there was a death in his family and he had to head out of town for a few days. So.....my appointment will no longer be today but rather on Friday.
Thanks for all your well wishes and prayers. It seems we will have to wait a little longer for treatment.
Oh....and we are back to chemo first and then surgery.
My sister-in-law, Ashley sent me this wonderful song: "Bethel Music - It is Well (Live)" that sings "through it all my eyes are on You....and it is well with my soul".....praying for this to settle deep into our hearts as we prepare for the final plans of treatment and then treatment itself.
May God bless you this day.
Now off to school we go!
Thanks for all your well wishes and prayers. It seems we will have to wait a little longer for treatment.
Oh....and we are back to chemo first and then surgery.
My sister-in-law, Ashley sent me this wonderful song: "Bethel Music - It is Well (Live)" that sings "through it all my eyes are on You....and it is well with my soul".....praying for this to settle deep into our hearts as we prepare for the final plans of treatment and then treatment itself.
May God bless you this day.
Now off to school we go!
Wednesday 2 September 2015
A Song without a Tune
I would like to share a song with you. It is a song without a tune, which it would be anyways since I am posting it rather than singing or playing it, but it is significant to know that it has no tune.
Paul wrote it soon after the doctors had confirmed that I had breast cancer. My Paul is a man who expresses himself the most eloquently through music and he had put his feelings into words and then grabbed his guitar to unite those words to music, but he could not.
"Ugh, Brig," he lamented, "I just can't put a tune to this. These words can't be made into a song. I don't know if the rhythm is off or what...."
That's a little like our lives right now. Lots of words. Big, scary, multi-syllabic words. It's hard to make sense out of them or sort them into a rhythm and they certainly don't feel melodic. But there they are...
Here is Paul's song without a tune:
Paul wrote it soon after the doctors had confirmed that I had breast cancer. My Paul is a man who expresses himself the most eloquently through music and he had put his feelings into words and then grabbed his guitar to unite those words to music, but he could not.
"Ugh, Brig," he lamented, "I just can't put a tune to this. These words can't be made into a song. I don't know if the rhythm is off or what...."
That's a little like our lives right now. Lots of words. Big, scary, multi-syllabic words. It's hard to make sense out of them or sort them into a rhythm and they certainly don't feel melodic. But there they are...
Here is Paul's song without a tune:
Palace ( for Brigette )
1.I don't want to sing this song to you my love.
I don't want to voice these fears in my heart.
I never planned on not being beside you.
I never thought we could ever be apart.
In those moments when I feel my palace crumbling.
When my deepest prayer is on my lips.
I don't want to voice these fears in my heart.
I never planned on not being beside you.
I never thought we could ever be apart.
In those moments when I feel my palace crumbling.
When my deepest prayer is on my lips.
And if I worship the ground that you walk on.
It's because I worship the one who placed you here.
In my life as rock that I rely on.
In who I find all the things that I hold dear.
It's because I worship the one who placed you here.
In my life as rock that I rely on.
In who I find all the things that I hold dear.
2. I've never looked at you with anything but wonder.
I've never known someone who's heart was so pure.
When I see it shine in our children's eyes.
I can pretend that everything will be alright.
In these moments when I feel our palace strengthened
Sustained by the foundation that we've laid.
I've never known someone who's heart was so pure.
When I see it shine in our children's eyes.
I can pretend that everything will be alright.
In these moments when I feel our palace strengthened
Sustained by the foundation that we've laid.
And if I worship the ground that you walk on.
It's because I worship the one who placed you here.
In my life as rock that I rely on.
In who I find all the things that I hold dear.
It's because I worship the one who placed you here.
In my life as rock that I rely on.
In who I find all the things that I hold dear.
3.I will never let you go down this path alone love.
I will never let you lose that sparkle in your eye.
We will fight for all we have built up here.
And for the moments still waiting for us to find.
I will never let you lose that sparkle in your eye.
We will fight for all we have built up here.
And for the moments still waiting for us to find.
Because if I worship the ground that you walk on.
It's because I worship the one who placed you here.
In my life as rock that I rely on.
In who I find all the things that I hold dear.
It's because I worship the one who placed you here.
In my life as rock that I rely on.
In who I find all the things that I hold dear.
"The LORD is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation." Psalm 118: 14
Tuesday 1 September 2015
Contained!
In one of the assessment rooms of Clinic D at the Juravinski Centre, there is a portion of a Robert Frost poem. For the lover of Literature that I am (not one of those smartish ones but one who just loves it...), this is unsettling, interesting, distracting and insulting. Not insulting to me but to Mr. Frost as I am certain this poem is being misinterpreted. Either way, the poem portion serves to keep me distracted enough to ponder poetry rather than cancer during each visit. While Paul is focussed on the purpose of our visit, I often wonder aloud about this poem over and over again; I am quite certain that Paul appreciates our long waiting time. ;)
Poetry aside, today's visit felt like a good one. We met with the oncologist today. First we met up with his nurse to go over some questions and talk about the results of my tests last week. I guess breast cancer can often spread to one's bones, liver and lungs but all my results from last week were clear. Praise God for that! So the cancer is contained! Wonderful. Then we found out that the name of my cancer is invasive ductal breast cancer which is the type of breast cancer that 95% of women get. Great; I don't want to have a unique, never-heard-of-before cancer! Then the nurse left.
Before the oncologist came in, I guess I was getting emotional and had some tears showing.
"You guys okay?" he questioned as he came in and introduced himself.
"Yeah yeah," I assured, mopping up those rogue tears.
"Come here," he said and folded first me, then Paul into a giant hug. Nice!
Skipping ahead....he then told us that he would like to check out some lymph nodes before beginning chemo so that he could know better what cocktail of chemo to put together for me. Therefore, he would feel much more comfortable if we began with surgery. Surgery will be a single mastectomy due to the large amount of cancer present in that breast. He said that he would like to discuss my case further with the surgeon concerning the order of treatment......surgery then chemo or chemo then surgery.....both followed by radiation. So, we wait until next Tuesday to find out what that will be.
"So......what do we do now?" I questioned at the conclusion of our visit.
"Go home and enjoy your Labor Day weekend!" the oncologist stated. Paul and I went home feeling very positive. We had planned to camp with our children and friends this weekend and now we can!
We are so thankful for God's mercies on this scary and dark road. Thankful that the cancer is contained, thankful that the doctors are familiar with this type of cancer, thankful that we live so close to the Juravinski Centre. Most of all, we thank God for being with us.
Are we scared? Worried? Terrified to lose a part of my body? Absolutely. I have a needle phobia and break into a cold sweat at the thought of all the injections every doctor keeps referring too. I don't want to lose a breast and then my hair....but, one day at a time..... I will rejoice over today and pray for strength for tomorrow. Thank you for all your prayers and messages. We are so blessed to be surrounded by you.
"The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." Deuteronomy 31: 8
And the (entire) poem by Robert Frost:
The Road Not Taken
Poetry aside, today's visit felt like a good one. We met with the oncologist today. First we met up with his nurse to go over some questions and talk about the results of my tests last week. I guess breast cancer can often spread to one's bones, liver and lungs but all my results from last week were clear. Praise God for that! So the cancer is contained! Wonderful. Then we found out that the name of my cancer is invasive ductal breast cancer which is the type of breast cancer that 95% of women get. Great; I don't want to have a unique, never-heard-of-before cancer! Then the nurse left.
Before the oncologist came in, I guess I was getting emotional and had some tears showing.
"You guys okay?" he questioned as he came in and introduced himself.
"Yeah yeah," I assured, mopping up those rogue tears.
"Come here," he said and folded first me, then Paul into a giant hug. Nice!
Skipping ahead....he then told us that he would like to check out some lymph nodes before beginning chemo so that he could know better what cocktail of chemo to put together for me. Therefore, he would feel much more comfortable if we began with surgery. Surgery will be a single mastectomy due to the large amount of cancer present in that breast. He said that he would like to discuss my case further with the surgeon concerning the order of treatment......surgery then chemo or chemo then surgery.....both followed by radiation. So, we wait until next Tuesday to find out what that will be.
"So......what do we do now?" I questioned at the conclusion of our visit.
"Go home and enjoy your Labor Day weekend!" the oncologist stated. Paul and I went home feeling very positive. We had planned to camp with our children and friends this weekend and now we can!
We are so thankful for God's mercies on this scary and dark road. Thankful that the cancer is contained, thankful that the doctors are familiar with this type of cancer, thankful that we live so close to the Juravinski Centre. Most of all, we thank God for being with us.
Are we scared? Worried? Terrified to lose a part of my body? Absolutely. I have a needle phobia and break into a cold sweat at the thought of all the injections every doctor keeps referring too. I don't want to lose a breast and then my hair....but, one day at a time..... I will rejoice over today and pray for strength for tomorrow. Thank you for all your prayers and messages. We are so blessed to be surrounded by you.
"The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." Deuteronomy 31: 8
And the (entire) poem by Robert Frost:
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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