It’s Too Soon

How did it go by so quickly?

It’s all passed me by as if in a dream.

I know my head hasn’t been in the sand;

I’ve been living with the fear and the reality since day one.

But it feels so different now…

Worse than when I first got diagnosed.

I can feel the life being pulled out from under me.

It’s too soon.

I’m not ready Lord,

I’m just not ready Lord.

Does that make me a sinner?

Does that make me love you less?

Would you still call me a chosen one

Or am I just as bad as everyone else?

I’m so ashamed.

Did I do enough?

Will I ever be enough?

Dear and faithful servant?

It feels like the journey ends here.

Lord, will you fight for me? Will you turn stones to save my life? Will you help me through this? Why do you need me so soon? You gave me a beautiful husband and kids late in life. I haven’t had enough time with them. Please. I gave you everything, everything that I had, a change so radical from my old ways. Please, let that be enough. I can’t do this to my husband, to my kids. To my dad… he still hasn’t forgiven you for taking my mom. I really thought you took her so that he would get saved and he’s not even talking to me. My brothers, my sister, the rest of my family… we need you to pull through for us. Please. I’m not ready Lord, I’m just not ready. It’s too soon.

To Eat Or Not To Eat

I’ve been having a lot of stomach issues since I had my gallbladder taken out on July 31st. Three weeks after my surgery, I wound up in the hospital with abdominal pain and black stools. My scans at the time showed a moderate amount of fluid in my abdominal cavity, not something completely unheard of considering my recent surgery. I was honestly more concerned with my colon at the time because the wall was thicker than normal, and they were not able to complete a colonoscopy because my colon is considered tortuous.

Every follow-up with my gastroenterologist has had me wondering when I’ll be able to do a repeat colonoscopy, but as the months have passed, the focus has definitely changed. I’m not sure if doing another colonoscopy is even on the table anymore. My colon is the least of my concerns now.

I shared my struggles with stomach pain on my private Facebook account a few days ago…

“My stomach always hurts. It hurts when I don’t eat and hurts after I do. It hurts after I drink fluids, and hurts right up until the moment I throw everything up. Then it really cramps while I’m throwing up, and hurts some more when I’m done. At this point, it feels like I’m eating just so I have something to throw up later. Cancer sucks. By the way, I already have a gastroenterologist and oncologist well aware of what’s going on, and trying to help me since this all started with the gallbladder surgery months ago. And yes, I’m still in a lot of pain after the 1100cc of fluid they took out of my abdomen last week.”

Well, today I got the results back for the fluid analysis for my parathentesis. My oncologist said that the fluid was not cancerous but made it known that the fluid was there because of my cancer. Basically, he is saying that he is pretty sure the cancer has spread to the lining of my stomach or intestines. This would be called peritoneal carcinomatosis. If it’s true, it would explain all of the pain that I have been in. It would explain everything I’ve had to deal with the last several months.

So where does this leave me now? Let’s see… It’s bad enough the chemo stopped working. It’s bad enough that my lungs have gotten worse, and that the liver lesion that was almost gone is bigger now than it ever was. But now the cancer is in yet another place. I don’t think I can take much more right now.

Lord, I have been faithful. I have leaned on you for strength. I have been positive and held my head high through most of this. But my heart is heavy. My head is overwhelmed, and my soul is weary. So many of the things I’ve found joy in these last two years despite everything… I feel like they have been ripped from me. I feel like so much has been taken from me. I wasn’t suffering so much before. Now, I spend most of my days in my bed, looking for any kind of comfort I can get. I need you, I need the kind of comfort only you can give me. I need answers and I need healing. I don’t want days I’m lucky to be here to be shadowed by suffering. Let me find joy in loving you again. Let me find joy in serving you again. In Jesus name. Amen.

I Should Be Happy

It came and went,

That special day…

The reminder of

Everything I’ve been through

In the last two years.

How do you celebrate?

How do you celebrate life

When it could have easily been death?

It’s not my birthday

But instead a milestone.

I should be happy;

I feel like people think

I should be happy.

To be honest, I don’t

Know how to feel.

Sure, I’m grateful but

I’m also desperate to keep going

And I don’t know if this just means

I’m closer to the mark,

You know, the end of it all.

Am I closer to healing

Or closer to Heaven?

This is something I may never know.

Statistics say time is running out

But what does God say?

Lord, hear my prayer.

A Day In The Life Of…

September 13th, 3:38 am

Insomnia Edition 239:

1. I have the theme of Jeopardy in my head.

2. The Brady Bunch is playing in the background.

3. Considering it’s after 3:30 am, it’s surprising that neither of the dogs or my husband have woken up. This is odd.

4. No cars have passed by loudly in several hours.

5. Considering my home health aide works an overnight shift before coming to my house, I predict that we will be both be ready for sleep when she gets here.

September 13th, 2:30 am

2:30 am Still awake with aching feet and pelvic pain. My ankles hurt, as well as my legs. The legs are a numbing pain like my feet. Still having issues with breathing when I turn on my side in bed.

September 11th, 2:56 am

I can’t sleep. I’m puking. I have bad gas. My stomach is incredibly upset, and I can’t stop coughing. I took the first dose of Questran tonight, and the gas and upset stomach were the first issues. But non-stop coughing has gone overboard and I just started puking. I haven’t puked in weeks, a record considering how I’ve averaged about twice a week since first getting sick two years ago. I still have to pee, I’ve just been holding it in. My coughing has been much worse today after yesterday being my last day on lasix compared to where I was before I started taking it. At least then, I was coughing because I moved. I’m not moving and I still can’t stop coughing. My breathing was hard today too, especially for my appt with Dr. Hameed and going to the pharmacy. I just don’t see how I can keep taking the Questran, and that was only one dose.

September 10th, 1:23 am

They start out so tragic

The things that I write

Ripping open old wounds

Scars that have never really healed

Always right there in the back of my mind

Too accessible for such a fragile mind

And yet, without long

You remind me

You get inside me

Inside my mind

Inside my heart

My soul and my mind

Reminding me that it’s going

To be all right.

There is nothing in front of me

That proves it to be true

But I believe in you

And know that I can trust you

September 10th, 12:43 am

My head hurts really bad, and has for the last few days. My stomach still hurts, and my acid reflux is acting up. Haven’t taken my pills in days because of my stomach issues. My mind is spinning, and that’s probably because my head isn’t spinning right now. Don’t turn to the left, don’t turn to the left and maybe I won’t be dizzy again. Coughing is still an issue, as well as my breathing difficulties. My butt is numb and the rest of my body is taking turns hurting. Wrist. Fingers. Back. Feet. Pelvis. Can I get a break??

Some people struggle because they no longer want to be part of this world; I struggle because I desperately want to remain in this world. Both are battles. Both are constant. Both are emotionally and physically draining to our souls. I long for the days when I took my youthfulness for granted, when I could run free without having to gasp for air. When I could walk for six miles… why am I crying again? When will it ever end? 

Restless. Hopeless. Faithless. Motionless. 

And yet… He is still there, urging me on. Always urging me on in the depths of despair I dare not share with anyone else. Who else would be able to handle the weight of my pain, my river of tears? 

In this moment, He reminds me I’m not alone. He reminds me that not all is forsaken or without reason. My suffering shall not be in vain. Perhaps you can feel it too, that your suffering isn’t either. I sure hope that’s the case. 

September 9th, 7:09 am

“For we live by faith, not by sight.” 2 Corinthians 5:7

September 9th, 3:11 am

Sometimes, trying a new medication is just not worth it.

September 6th, 3:43 am

Me: I love my Lindsey.

My dog: (just looks at me)

Me: Wait, that’s not her name. Wait, what’s her name. Nick, what’s my dog’s name?

Nick: Lani

Me: Oh yeah, Lani. Her name is Lani.

This just happens more and more, short and long-term. Thanks #chemobrain

September 1st, 8:57 am

My vertigo is so bad that I can’t sit upright. When I try to sit and deal with the spinning, my body just falls over. Hmmm…

August 30th, 2:54 pm

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

August 25th, 2:51 pm

On my feet today. Slowly but surely.

August 23rd, 2:44 pm

‪I made it. I got through all three procedures while here at the hospital, and I’m exhausted. Thankfully, my pain is not as bad right now, and hopefully I’ll be able to breathe easier soon enough. I love all your kind words and prayers. I need them. God bless you all. ‬

August 19th, 11:25 pm

My lungs haven’t felt this bad since I first got diagnosed. I’ve been in my bed coughing for about an hour, with no more than a few minutes to breath easily at a time. I have never wanted a procedure I absolutely hate so badly. Please pray this happens this week; my body can’t handle anymore.

August 19th, 4:57 pm

Just got the call. The cancer has NOT gotten worse from what they can tell. My doctor thinks my problem is because of fluid in my lungs, and recommends having them drained. Not a fun procedure at all BUT much better than the cancer being worse. Hallelujah 🙏🏻

August 16th

Woken by a coughing fit after finally falling asleep. 😭😭😭 I begged to have my chest CT scan earlier so I’m having it tomorrow to see if the cancer has gotten worse. Please pray for me.

August 15th

Coughing fits leave me so exhausted. There’s nothing like having one when you’re trying to get dressed. 🙄

August 15th

Guilty pleasure on this low-fat, gallbladder diet?

Chunky peanut butter on a slice of multigrain bread, topped with applesauce.

I use applesauce to take my meds too. I’ve never eaten so much applesauce in my life.

August 14th, 9:23 pm

I still love you. I still trust you.

August 14th, 9:18 pm

I’m still here, on God’s good graces. Never take for granted the time you have here to do good for our sweet Lord.

August 14th

Insomnia Edition 238:

– I need to fire Sleepytime Bear.

– Cars make too much noise when they move.

– The covers make me too hot but without them, I’m too cold.

– Sorry Netflix and PBS… nothing will ever compare to the 1985 Anne of Green Gables with Megan Follows.

– My dog is specially trained to lie down on me precisely where it’s most painful.

August 8th

‪Only really have hair on half of my head… mostly the left side. Pretty sparse on the top, right side, and right side of the back. But you know what? I’m going to brave the look for my chemo today. #NoScarfDay 👩🏻‍🦲#ThisIsMyGoodSide 🖐🏻#CancerSucksButImStillHere 🙏🏻‬

August 8th

Insomnia Edition 237:

– I suddenly smell soap.

– Sephora is more entertaining than Hulu right now.

– My nightlight puts out more light than my iPhone.

– My dog gets better sleep than my husband.

– I can confirm that social media never sleeps.

August 7th, 11:48 am

Recovering well after surgery, and preparing for chemo #41 tomorrow. I’m grateful to still be here despite everything. Thank you Lord. 🙏🏻

August 1st

Pain medicine makes me itch pretty bad, and so getting sleep since surgery has been nearly impossible. Nurse said I’ll have to stick to Tylenol or ibuprofen 😭 for my level 8 pain. So I take 800 mg of ibuprofen, and guess what? It makes me itch worse than the morphine 🙄

July 28th, 11:17 am

May my life shine a light on Jesus.

July 28th, 10:57 am

‪I pray that I always choose Jesus over this world. ‬

July 28th, 8:34 am

What lies behind the bend ahead?

July 20th, 8:55 am

‪Today is a new, beautiful day filled with the love and blessings of our Lord Jesus ❤️‬

July 18th, 3:53 am

Lord, thank you for a good life.

July 18th

Nick’s alarm just went off for the second time… I still haven’t slept. Hmmm… maybe I’ll sleep during chemo.

July 18th

✔️ Watched some tv

✔️ Did some guided meditation

✔️ Listened to soothing piano music

✔️ Still awake

The Color of My Cancer Journey

I sit down at my desk with a paintbrush in hand. I’ve already gotten a cup of water, and have a roll of paper towels nearby. I stare at a blank canvas for now.

I don’t paint bowls of fruit. I don’t paint grand landscapes or pretty butterflies. I paint my feelings… which means I don’t have a thought process in mind as far as what I’m going to paint. I’ve always been like this… painting with the freedom of expression rather than the confines of a planned portrait.

I look over at the color choices available to me in my set of gouache paints. The color I choose says a lot about how I’m feeling. So many to choose from… I feel many things about what I have been through, what I am currently going through, and what’s to come. Lately, I always seem to start with the same color. I can’t explain it… it pulls at my senses and tugs on my heart.

Blue.

Blue is the color of my cancer journey. It is the color of sadness for my condition, and the color of the isolation I sometimes feel. But it is also the color of God’s love being poured over me, and the color of peace He has placed in my heart. It is the color of trust… knowing that He will one day heal me.

” ‘But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,’ declares the Lord.” Jeremiah 30:17

I Can Do All Things

 

“There is nothing wrong with my legs.”

“There is nothing wrong with my legs.”

I was sitting in my shower chair, praying… praying for all that I’ve been through. For the second time today I thought to myself, “this is the price I have to pay. This is the price I have to pay for living.” Then I looked down at the bracelet that my Aunt Jackie gave me when I first got diagnosed. She bought one for herself as well, and she was still wearing it when I saw her for Thanksgiving. It reads, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

I suddenly felt the need to stand up, to get out of my chair and just stand up on my own two legs. With His strength. With Him standing with me, I could finally get out of the chair that I’ve been relying on for so long because of weakness… and sickness… and so much more.

I did it. I stood up. And as the minutes passed, I was still standing. I felt the tightness in my legs but still I stood. Then, out of nowhere the thought came to me…

“There is nothing wrong with my legs.”

“There is nothing wrong with my legs.”

And I said it out loud. I said it out loud. There is nothing wrong with my legs. There is nothing wrong with my back, or my hips. There is nothing wrong with my heart. There is nothing wrong with my head. It’s just my lungs and the side effects from the chemotherapy.

Right there, I claimed that I was finally standing up. Standing up to cancer. Standing up to everything I’ve been through. Because if I’m still here fighting after almost 18 months, why not start believing that I can get through this. That I can beat this.

I’ll be honest, I haven’t been much of a fighter through this like some of you might think. I’ve just been taking it, slug after slug, beating after beating. I’ve still been that kid that got beat up over and over again by the neighborhood girls. Just standing there and letting it happen. I started speaking the words, “I’m standing up to cancer. I’m standing up to all of it.”

I stood there for so long that Nick came to check on me to make sure I was okay. Opening the curtain, he asked “why are you standing?” and I proudly responded…

“There is nothing wrong with my legs.”

“There is nothing wrong with my legs.”

My fight isn’t over. If anything, it’s actually just beginning because I’m not taking it face down anymore. I’m going to get stronger. I’m going to get my life back. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

 

 

---

Photo by Alex Green on Unsplash

What Shingles Looks Like

My husband, Nick, mentioned that I forgot to add something to my last post. Pictures. You know, of what shingles looks like. Oops.

For those interested, here you go. This is how it looks when the rash first starts…

 

It wrapped around my right side between my breasts to the middle of my back. It’s right under my bra line so wearing bras is completely out of the question until I’m healed.

 

 

Of course, it’s gotten much worse. This is what it looks like when the blisters start bursting.

 

I pray none of you have to deal with this, but even more, I pray that you know Jesus like I do. That you put your whole heart and your whole body at His feet. He truly can bring a peace that you will never quite understand.

May peace be with you.

Mustard Seed Faith

I had a CT scan done last week, and got my results when I saw my oncologist on Wednesday. I was incredibly nervous to find out what was going on with the lesion in my left lung. Back when I was diagnosed last September, it measured approximately 6x6cm (about the size of an egg), and had only shrunk down to 4×4 cm after six rounds of standard chemotherapy.

By standard chemotherapy, I mean using one platinum-based IV drug called carboplatin combined with another kind of chemo called alimta once every three weeks. Carboplatin is very toxic so patients typically only do six rounds, but if you have advanced disease like myself, you may continue using the chemo drug alimta as maintenance therapy. Alimta takes only about 15-20 minutes to get in your system, and is not as harsh on your body.

I was concerned that my lesion wasn’t going to shrink anymore with just the maintenance therapy. All I could hope for was that it didn’t start growing because if that happened, I would move to my last line of defense and try immunotherapy. I technically had already tried one of these drugs (avastin prevents new blood vessels from forming) when I moved to maintenance therapy, but it caused me to be in more pain to the point I needed to start taking pain meds again so I stopped after only two rounds. Having five extra months to live (as the drug promised) was not worth the pain I was going through.

So here I was knowing that I had already said no to one drug that could help prevent any new growths, and I had to face the results of another scan. My husband was with me as he always is for dr visit/chemo days and I think he was a little nervous too. When my doctor came in the room, the first thing he addressed was the good report on the CT scan. No new growth! We were relieved, but as we were trying to find out how big the tumor was now, we were shocked to learn that it wasn’t there.

We didn’t understand what the doctor was saying, not sure we had heard him correctly. We were having him reiterate what he had just said while I was trying to study the report in my lap. He said “there is no measurable mass” in my left lung, the same thing staring back at me in black and white. It had only been six weeks since the last CT scan where the report clearly stated the tumor was 4×4 cm. Somehow, it went from being the size of a walnut to nothing in just two chemo cycles of maintenance therapy.

Now, I know that there is no way that a maintenance drug that only puts 15 minutes of chemo in my body for 2 rounds can make a tumor of that size just disappear when standard chemo with a much stronger drug couldn’t do that in 6 rounds. The math just doesn’t add up. Even the avastin can’t make tumors disappear like that. There was only one explanation. God did that.

I was in shock for quite a bit of that day, not because I didn’t believe God could do it, but because of the amount of favor He poured over me and my situation. Today, I found out that He has done the same thing for another person who had a 11 mm tumor in their left lung and theirs is completely gone now too!

God is definitely still in the business of doing miracles. Things can seem so bleak even when you have faith because you often still don’t know what God’s plan is for your life. We hold on to Him for dear life, praying and hoping that His plans for this life still include us a little bit longer, and it is just pure joy when we finally come to understand His plans for us.

I pray for anyone dealing with a long-term, debilitating illness. There are still plenty of reasons to hope, even if your faith is as small as a mustard seed.

“He replied, ‘Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:20

Treading Water While I Find My Purpose

I cough a lot. I cough to the point of throwing up the last thing I ate or drank. This is especially the case after I walk across the room. That’s right – barely walking can send me into a coughing fit that will make me lose my lunch. Maybe it’s because of the fluid in my left lung. Scans have shown a moderate to large amount of fluid for months. We thought that draining it would help improve my condition. Not only did the fluid quickly come back, the last PET scan showed absolutely no change in the amount of fluid even though it had already been drained. I went through the horrendous pain for nothing and don’t feel like it even helped me.

Then there’s my heart. Walking across the room really sends my heart racing and leaves me out of breath. Even just standing can cause the same reaction, and then I’m really left coughing and throwing up. I’m sure it’s my low hemoglobin counts again. Every round of chemo wreaks havoc on my bone marrow, making it impossible to have a normal amount of red blood cells. They’re not low enough for a transfusion but it sure keeps me from moving around too much. That means more days using my wheelchair instead of my walker when I get out of the house. It’s safer this way so my heart doesn’t run to 140 bpm with every little task but using a wheelchair makes me feel like I’m regressing instead of getting better.

These are just some of the things I deal with day in and day out. In some ways, I am doing pretty good despite all that I am going through but there are still some rough moments. There are still fears and doubts. It’s really scary not knowing if you’re going to die or not. Doing treatment after treatment, not knowing if it will be enough. My mom died just 4 months after being deemed cancer free. It had gone to her brain late in the game… and she quickly succumbed. We were told she had maybe a year when she went into hospice; she was gone within a day.

In my case, I’ve watched God allow the treatments to make improvements to my condition. I’ve celebrated small successes like favorable PET scans and shrinking lesions, all while knowing the battle is long from over. I really want to hear the words, “cancer free,” but I’m not naive enough to believe that it means the battle is won. Several of the cancer survivor volunteers I got close to at the American Cancer Society died within a few years of meeting them.  Their cancers came back with a vengeance and no amount of treatment would help. Being a cancer survivor is a badge of honor, but it’s terribly heartbreaking when a survivor is a survivor no more.

So how do I handle my fears as I continue the fight? I wish I could say that I spend my days at the feet of Jesus; honestly, I still find myself spacing out and not really dealing. I’m still trying to find my purpose through all of this, how best to spend my days at home now that I can’t work. I don’t really know how long it will take for me to get on the boat instead of just treading water. I wish I could say it is an easy path to get there but in reality, there is still quite a bit of fog keeping me in my present state.  The only thing I have going for me is the fact that I haven’t given up on getting out of this situation.

I still believe God can rescue me. I still believe that God heals and does miracles. I don’t know if that is His plan for me but I trust Him to take care of me as I go through this trial. Why do I say that? Because I may be treading water but I don’t feel like I’m in danger of drowning. I may be treading water but I know Jesus is there, close by, even if I can’t see Him. And there are the blessings that keep coming out of this situation that remind me that it’s not all gloom and doom.

One day, God will call me home and I’m sure it will be a glorious moment for me. In the meantime though, I pray that He uses my time on earth for something truly wonderful, something that truly brings joy to His kingdom. I pray that I find my purpose through all of this, and that I can continue to push forward despite my fears. Having cancer is no easy feat but it can be just what is needed to bring glory to Him.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:31