'Cause Everybody Hurts Sometimes

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's so comforting to be assured of God's presence in days of turmoil isn't it?
Here is the plaque:

Look closely.  read the text.  Lovely, right.  Now notice that this is not just for me but rather dedicated to a little girl, a "little angel called back to heaven."
Ugh.

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

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

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

Death sorrow sadness uncertainty grief hot tears falling down down down

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you in trouble?
Do you hurt?

Everybody does sometimes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Down WIth You, Chemo Two!

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

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

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

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

Have a great night!  Lots of love
Brigette

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

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

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!

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!