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?

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