Pre-Surgery Preparations

Before the alarm on my phone could begin its soothing wake-up trills, I was awake.  It was January 21, the day circled on every one of the calendars in our home and the dreaded date that our family had been preparing for for many weeks.  It was January 21, the day of my surgery; the farewell date for my left breast; the next part of our journey with cancer and the beginning of a new me.

I climbed out of bed and dressed in my pre-surgery outfit.  Stretchy, comfy pants, tank top and zip-up sweater.  My mind was not racing with the worry of the day before as I went through my morning rituals.  Wash face.  Get dressed.  Breathe in. Breathe out.  Concentrating on the normalcies; on the everyday, ordinariness of that morning distracted and subtracted from the crazy reality to come. 

"Okay, LORD, this is it," I thought, "help me to trust in You.  This is all in your hands.  Please give me courage today."

My bathroom door squeaked open and the blonde, tousled head of Liam peeked in.

"Hi, mom.  I woke up before my alarm."  He announced.  He had set his alarm for 6:30am so that he could see me and Paul before we left for the hospital that morning.  

"Hi, baby."  I said and enveloped him in a giant hug.  

Soon, Paul was awake and quietly getting ready too.   

Donovan catapulted out of the top bunk into my arms when he saw me creeping in his room to give him a good-bye kiss.  

"Are you leaving, mom?"  he whispered.

"Soon, Dons.  Not yet."  I responded.  Donovan quickly got dressed and joined Liam and Paul downstairs.

I continued my stealthy creeping so I could kiss Gwen and Lochlan good-bye.  They were both in deep sleeps. Gwen's brown hair was a messy halo around her red-cheeked face.  

Smooch, smooch, smooch, I smooched her cute little cheeks, tucked some errant hair-strands behind her ear and whispered, "See you soon, Princess!"

Lochlan was in our bed, where he is most mornings.  He usually wakes up for one reason or another - he has to pee, he's had a bad dream, he is afraid of the dark or the shadows from his night light, he wants a snuggle, he's hungry, he wants to talk about a dream he just had - and then crawls over me to sleep nestled right between me and Paul.  Through-out the rest of the night, he sprawls his tiny body over the middle of the bed, stretching his puny limbs as far out as he possibly can in an attempt to take over as much of the bed as possible.  He punctuates his sleep with sporadic kicks, elbow jabs and arm whacks just to ensure we are both aware that he is there.  That last night, he drop kicked me in the chest.  

He was in a deep sleep in my bed, tiny arms raised above his head like he was in a dream stick-up.

Smooch, smooch, smooch.  I smooched his little flushed cheeks.

"My little King's Son." I murmured because I can't call him "my little Prince" as he is convinced that a "Prince" is a girl.  We have had this discussion many times - a Princess is a girl and a Prince is a boy - but arguing with a 4 year old is about as pointless as arguing with a brick wall in the middle of winter.  Arguing with a brick wall in the summer is also difficult, but it is warmer and, therefore, it feels more like there is a point in there somewhere.  

Downstairs, Crystal, had arrived.  She wrapped me in a wonderful sister hug, her arms steady and strong around me.  

"You'll be okay!  Don't be afraid!  It will all be over soon."  her words were as supportive as her arms around me and I tightened my hold.  Sisters and best friends for life!!

Soon, Paul and I gathered up the over-night bag I had packed the night before, said good-bye to Crystal, Liam and Donovan, and drove to the Juravinski Hospital.

At the hospital, we registered and then began to make our way to the Same Day Surgery location.  On our way, we were intercepted by Roleane Ligtenberg.  Roleane is a breast cancer survivor who has met up with me to offer support, encouragement and advice.  She is an amazing woman; cheerful, strong, and beautiful who is not afraid to use her experiences to help others.  I am so blessed to have come to know women like Roleane and Sonja Heeringa, who have been on this breast cancer journey before.  God yanked my family down this road that we didn't want to go down, but He has given us so much help along the way.  I have never been alone or unguided on my journey!  Thank you, God!

Back to Roleane:  She was dressed in her nursing uniform and ready for her day's work when we saw her.

"Hi guys!" she smiled broadly and wrapped me up in giant, warm hug.  

We chatted for a bit and then she wrapped me and, then, Paul in another hug.  We felt fortified!

Once reception knew I was at the hospital, the wait was short.  Soon Paul and I were called to the back.  Rows of grey-white, pleather chairs where separated from each other by tired looking curtains.  Green clad nurses with clipboards marched cheerfully around.  We were led to our chair and our nurse handed us some hospital gowns.

"Okay, Brigette.  Here is your pajama.  Put it own backwards.  Here is your housecoat.  Put it over the pajamas and on forwards."  She handed over some fresh-smelling, blue-patterned gowns and drew the curtains closed around us.  Though the room buzzed with activity, the closed curtains gave a semblance of privacy.

"Here goes!" I said as I exchanged my clothes for the hospital finery.

"All done?" the cheery voice of our nurse queried before she delicately ripped open the curtains.

"Yep." I retorted.

"Hmm.....no.... you have it wrong."  She drawled and slowly repeated the instructions from before...pajama first and on backwards, housecoat over top and on forwards.  She spun about on her sensible nurse sneakers and swooshed our curtains closed again.

Paul and I giggled as I attempted to correct my clothing mix-up.

At this point, I would like to make some sort of disclaimer:  Perhaps it was my chemo-soaked brain, perhaps it was some anxiety muddling up my thinking, perhaps it was some deep-seated inclination to find the greatest number of combinations possible with the pajama and housecoat; whatever the reason, I managed to incorrectly put on my garments two more times.  That is three times in total because two plus one equals three! Three times my nurse had to swoosh aside the privacy curtains and announce, "You've got it wrong again!!!" The last time, her voice rose to a screech of incredulity.  How stupid was this woman?  She seemed to be thinking (I could read it in her eyebrow furrows).  I was thoroughly embarrassed and Paul was trying not to guffaw.

"Why don't I just help you?" The nurse gently asked after my final blunder.  It seemed the best decision.  I was certain that if the nurse left me alone with the hospital clothes one more time, I would put the pajama on my head and then eat the housecoat.  That seemed the only combination left to consider.

Once I was correctly clothed and almost awarded for that achievement, several more nurses came to put in my iv and further prepare me for surgery.  Paul sat by, mostly quiet except for his one-liners.  When Paul gets nervous, the one-liners just keep coming.  I sat in my comfy chair, now hooked up to my iv and chortled nervously.

"Okay, so this next needle I am going to give you is a blood thinner.  This needle will hurt.  Like a bee sting!" announced a nurse with an unpronounceable last name.

I felt an eye-tick coming on.  Awesome.  A needle.  That hurts.  This day was not getting better yet.

"So where would you like it?" she cheerily asked, gesticulating with the dripping needle.

"In him!" I responded, pointing at Paul to buy me time to find those runaway shreds of bravery deep deep within me.

"Ha hahaha ha," we all robotically laughed and then she suggested my stomach.  "It hurts less there....." she said.

"Go ahead," I sighed and the needle was plunged into me.  All done and only minimal bee-sting pain.  

Then someone new entered into our tiny hospital space.

"Hi Brigette!"  It was my surgeon, Dr. Hodgeson.  She was decked out in her surgery-wear, blond hair pulled back in a pony-tail.  "How are you?"  She went over a few details concerning the surgery that was coming so so soon.  She leaned in close to me, brown eyes soft and compassionate.

"So if you don't mind, I just have to...." she explained and I noticed she was waving a black sharpie in her hand.

What on earth?  my inner thoughts scoffed.  What sort of surgeon is this who wields a sharpie and not a scalpel.  Will she scribble away my problems?  Write black-markered poetry upon my breast?

She took that plain black marker, started writing on my chest.....she said "Come on now, let's fix this mess...." **

(**okay....shh...she didn't actually say that.  I'm borrowing a lyric from Mr. Frank Turner)

Dr. Hodgeson leaned in close, pulled open my pajama/housecoat ensemble and printed her initials over my left breast.  

"NH," she scrawled, "Just to make sure." she stepped back and capped the marker.  

Paul and I laughed nervously, our eyes wide with disbelief.

I was hooked up to iv, garmented, the correct body part had been identified.  I was ready for surgery.

Breathe in.  Breathe out.

"God, please give me strength and courage.  Stay with me....." I prayed.

I held out my hand to Paul. He clasped my hand in his and squeezed tightly.

"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.  He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me;...." 

Psalm 23: 3, 4a

Yet to Come:

The Purple-Nosed Mystery.

Recovery Room Drama and the Singing Senior.

Jillian Michaels Ain't Got anything on Me and My Post-Surgery Workouts!

Paul - The Wonder Husband and Perfect Care-Giver!

Farewell

T'was the day before my surgery and much had yet to be done:
We had our children to spend a last, "normal" day with before surgery,
We had our paper-route papers to fold, bag and deliver,
Laundry to wash, dry, and fold,
Rooms to tidy,
A dog to walk,
Lists to be drawn up,
Piano to be practised,
Bags to be packed,
Meals to be prepared, eaten and cleaned up,
Last visits with some family members (my mom, my brother and sister in law),
Phone calls with many family members and friends telling us they were praying for us,
Emails with prayers,
Texts with well-wishes.
There was so much to be done that there was little opportunity for worry.
And then, evening came and we could sit and have a quiet dinner with our children.  We talked one more time about what morning would bring:

"Mom and Dad have to get up early tomorrow to go to the hospital.  If you are not awake, we will kiss you good bye and see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

"So all your things are packed.  Aunt Crystal will be here nice and early and have breakfast with you and take you to where you are going for a few days.  Are you excited?"

"Well, kind of ..."

"You will have lots of cool and exciting adventures.  And we will see you soon!"

"Are you scared, mom?"

"Only of the needles!  Mom is still a giant needle-suck.  But I'm not scared of anything else, okay?  It's a totally normal, almost-boring surgery for the doctors!  And, God is right there taking care of mom.  Okay?"

"Okay."

"Wanna watch a movie now?"

"YEAH!"

Ah....so thankful for the distraction of tv sometimes!
We watched a movie together and tucked in our beautiful babies:  Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lochlan.  I may have kissed them many many many many times as we pulled the covers up to their chins and turned out their lights.

"Uh, mom, gross...." but even my one baby-boy who has decided over the past year that he "hates" kisses gave me a kiss on the lips:  "It's a duck kiss, mom!"  he said, bravado trying to win out as I held him.  (It was the sweetest duck kiss ever, Dons, I thought!)

Paul and finished up some last packing and organizing and tried to do normal evening activities.  I felt restless and weird.
How do you prepare to lose a body part?
I had prayed and accepted that this needed to happen.
I knew that a mastectomy was the best medical plan of action to get rid of the cancer.
But I felt like I was betraying a part of myself.
So I sat down at my computer and composed a good-bye letter.  Yes; to my boob (it's how I deal, okay?)
The letter is pretty personal but I will share a few lines (my mom said I should and I almost always listen to her!!):

"Dear Left Breast...

....We’ve had some good times together.  For years, you were flat and I was pretty unaware of you.  But then you went and began to grow.  I recall being pretty embarrassed about that.  I’m so sorry.  I recognize now that that was just a part of my body becoming a woman.  I so loved being a girl that I did not want to acknowledge the fact that I was changing and growing up...  But then mom gently urged me to buy my first bra.  Oh how horrified I was!  
Remember how the immature Grade 7 boys used to snap my bra strap and the bra straps of all the other Grade 7 girls?  I remember being both horrified and strangely pleased.  I was growing up and people were taking notice....

...Remember all those beautiful nursing moments?  It used to hurt when my milk first came in but I would not trade those nursing moments for anything.  Remember Liam, then Donovan?  Remember Gwen, then Lochlan?  You nourished and nuzzled my babies.  You fed them as they cuddled in close.  Those were such sweet, tender and beautiful times.  We spent a lot of time together with those babies….remember all those half asleep night feeds?  They were tough but unforgettable moments…..through half-closed blinds, streetlight lamps gently illuminated you and me and the babies in the quiet moments of the night…

....And then, cancer.  Cancer filled you up and brought me to doctors and tests, biopsies and chemotherapy, and now surgery. 

They are going to take you away.  I will miss you.  I will miss you so much.   You’ve been with me for this whole crazy ride of a life.   But you have to go.  You might make me too sick and I have so much yet to live for.  You will not be forgotten.  Even when and if I decide to have reconstructive surgery and a new breast is made, even then, I will not forget you.  It will not be the same.  You have been there from the start, you have been an important part of me and I will never forget you.

Go easy into the night.

Love Brigette

Weird as that may seem to all of you, writing that farewell letter was cathartic.  I felt much better afterwards.

I kissed Paul good-night, checked on Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lochlan (giving them many many many more good-night kisses) and then crawled into bed.

Before turning out the lights, I turned to a stack of recipe cards my sister in law, Ashley, had given to me.  On each card was an encouraging Bible text.  I read through them all.....and was struck again how often God tells me to not be afraid.  To not be discouraged.  I love Deut. 31: 8 "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."  and Psalm 147: 3  "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."  Man, what a God!  

Maybe I was pretty nervous about losing a body part but God was right there alongside me.  He was all ready to bind up my wounds and comfort my sorrows.  With all those assurances, there was nothing left to worry about.  

I slept.

- Brigette

Coming soon (when my muscle spasms cease....typing hurts...):

The Sharpie-Markered Surgeon.

The Pajama/ Housecoat Fiasco.

The Purple-Nosed Mystery.

Recovery Room Drama and the Singing Senior.

Jillian Michaels Ain't Got anything on Me and My Post-Surgery Workouts!

Paul- The Wonder Husband and Perfect Care-Giver!

Brigette's List

I am a list person.
I love lists.  Lists keep me organized and scheduled.  Lists help me order thoughts that would otherwise butterfly away into chaos.  Lists keep me calm, on time (sort of) and ordered.
So it is natural for me to have made another list in the back of a lovely notebook I received at the beginning of my cancer diagnosis.
This is a list of people; a list of people I know who have fought or are currently still fighting cancer.
My mom, Afke, is on this list.
My dear friend is on this list.
Some women who have become dear friends are on this list.
My cousin's wife is here.....
Herman Faber is here.

I did not write this list to stay scheduled or on time; I wrote this list to see some fellow fighters.
Fellow Cancer Warriors.
To feel encouraged that this journey I am on has been done before.  It is being done right now.  Many of these Cancer Warriors have had cancer in the past and are living the life that God has given them to the fullest now, cancer-free.
I have met with some of these people and they have been so supportive and encouraging; offering up words cloaked in the wisdom that comes with experience.....
"Make sure you have button-up shirts for after surgery!"
"Do those arm exercises after surgery!  They helped me so much."
"Here is a wonderful lotion for your scars.  It's great.  I loved it!"

My list of people includes Cancer Warriors who are still fighting right now.  My mom is part of this list.  We encourage each other from hospital waiting rooms.  We compare tests and results, bruises and bandaids.  We bow our heads and exchange prayers for each other....our whispered words passing each other in the night.

My list of people includes Cancer Warriors who have passed on into glory.  Their bodies could no longer fight.  My brother and sister-in-law's father (Tim & Cara) is on this list.  Herman Faber.  We had walked our cancer walk, fought our cancer fight together for months now.  Inquired into each other's tests.  Shared results.  Checked in on one another at the Juravinski Centre.   Texted or emailed each other encouraging Bible verses....
But God called Herman home.  Last week was a sad week when so many family and friends gathered to sow Herman's body and to mourn his loss.   He will be missed so much.

Some time ago, someone mysteriously placed a poem into my church mailbox.  If this was from you, thank-you.  It hangs on my kitchen wall.

I would like to share this poem:

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.

Whoever gave me this poem, also placed between each line, these words from Romans 8:37-39:

"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."  

My favourite part of Romans 8: 37-39 is the "more than conquerors" part.   Every warrior dreams of conquering.  Cancer "cannot conquer the spirit" but when we follow God, we are MORE than conquerors through Him!  That is awesome.  Take heart!

Herman, you have fought the good fight and you have more than won!  I hope you are playing a victory song on your tambourine!  God called you home before your loved ones were ready to let you go, but God called you home according to His schedule.   You are still on my list, Herman.  Thanks for often thinking of me when you had enough to worry about already.  Thanks for your encouragements and prayers!  It was an honour to have known you.


"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty."
Psalm 91: 1

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

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