And the Verdict Is...

Still uncertain.

(You would think that I am getting used to hearing that, right? Hmmm...not so much.)

So the scoop is that my tumor markers are still elevated; in fact, a bit higher even from last month.  However, my oncologist and I talked through her logic as to why I shouldn't yet be alarmed by this.  Her exact quote was, "You shouldn't lose sleep over this, Kristie."   And, after hearing her logic, I am comfortable with the approach she has laid out. 

In a nutshell, I will return to Roswell in 5 weeks to be re-scanned and do more blood work.  If the markers are again elevated and/or the scans are worse than the ones in December, then I will change my treatment from an anti-estrogen based therapy to a traditional chemotherapy (yes, that's correct, that means baldness).  If they are virtually unchanged or even better then I will continue with the anti-estrogen therapy.

So I get a break from going to see my breast oncologist for 5 weeks; although I love her to pieces, I'm thrilled about not having to return for scans until 2/28!. 

The only other thing to share with you - for today, that is (and you're so lucky to only have to read a short email from me!) - is that my surgery to remove my ovaries has been moved up.  I will have my laparoscopic surgery on 2/14.  Is that going to be a rockin' Valentine's Day or what?!? My childhood friend, Kathy, is having her mastectomy that day as well.  Do we Webster High School girls know how to put a twist on the way most celebrate this holiday, or what?!?

Thanks for your prayers today. 

We're doing well.

Off to school to have lunch with my kiddos.  

K.  

P.S.  Chad and I had an excellent trip to Colorado.  He skied Breckenridge and Aspen.  I shopped Breckenridge and Aspen.  He drove a 2 wheel, rear-wheel drive car through a blinding snowstorm.  I commented on how dumb it was for me to save $300 by not renting a 4-wheel drive SUV.  He ate buffalo tartare (yes, he didn't know it was raw meat either when he ordered it).  I ate brie.  We both went dog sledding and almost went off the trail and down a black diamond ski slope being pulled by 10 dogs; literally, we were up on one rail, 3" away from going over the edge.  Can you imagine?!?! My bones would not have liked that! :)

Tomorrow (Wednesday)

Hi all...

 

I have to go back to "that place" again tomorrow.  At 8:45 AM I meet with my breast oncologist to discuss both the results of my blood work (to see if my tumor markers have returned to normal levels) and the impact, if any, of the suspicious spot on my ovary on my overall treatment plan.

 

I won't tell you that I have no worries; I do.  My bible study girls would attest to that fact as they witnessed the tears on my face today.  But I was reminded by some wonderful women that I have a trustworthy God who went to the ends of the earth and beyond for me, for you.  He is present and working and loving.  Always. No matter what. 

 

As soon as I know what the "scoop" is, I'll let you know. 

Until then, I would appreciate your prayers.

 

Thanks,

Kristie

Update #21

I chose wrong.

 

Yesterday I made the choice to start off my day without spending time with God.  On most mornings, you can find me at our kitchen table with Bible open on the table and - as of 4 months ago, my puppy on my lap.  I love that time of day; I get up early for that time of the day.  I usually delay getting started on my "to-do" list until after God and I first meet in the mornings.  It has been both a habit and a joy for me for the past several years.

 

Not yesterday...there was just too much to do - important stuff, stuff that had to get done.  Stuff that, if it hadn't gotten done, other lives would have been negatively impacted.  So, I began my very full day without being freshly reminded of the God who loves me, who walks with me and before me, the God who never fails me.

 

Big mistake.

 

Because what I thought would be a routine visit to the Gynecology clinic at Roswell turned into a...

 

"You have a suspicious spot on your left ovary that may or may not be cancerous - breast or ovarian."

"You need to have your ovaries removed."

"The surgery doesn't have to be today, but you should have it in February sometime."

 

What's the proper typed word for "sigh."  Can you almost hear my exhale of breath?  Can you imagine my eyes turned toward heaven filling with tears?  Can you imagine my stomach tighten?  Can you envision my brain swirling and swirling and swirling?

 

How could I have even thought about walking into Roswell not prepared by a time of intentional conversation with and study of Christ?  What was I thinking?  Did I think that I knew what was awaiting me that day?  Did I think I was tough enough, studied-up enough, smart enough, strong enough, in control enough...you fill in the blank? 

 

Do you?  

 

Do you start your day thinking that you know what's going to happen and that you're prepared for it?  Do you live as though today and tomorrow and the day after that are known? That they'll be things you can handle? That you'll be able to live by your calendar, your Blackberry, the schedule you've followed most days?

 

What - dare I ask it - happens when the events of your day don't at all match your expectations? 

 

Do you wish for a "do-over?"  Do you wish you could look behind you and see days and days of different decisions, different priorities, different choices that would have been more of a solid foundation for the earthquake that may be happening to you at this moment?

 

While I don't long for a total do-over, I do wish that I could rewind the clock and, when I left my bedroom in the dark of yesterday's morning, that I didn't head to my office, but I headed to my "church" - a simple kitchen table, with a precious Bible, a Holy God and me - an imperfect, fallible, wholly loved little girl in the eyes of my Heavenly Father. 

 

Had I chosen differently, here's what perfectly-timed word from God through my daily devotional I would have read: 

TRUST ME by relinquishing control into My hands. Let go, and recognize that I am God.

This is My world; I made it and I control it.  Yours is a responsive part in the litany of love.

I search among my children for receptivity to Me.

Guard well this gift that I have planted in your heart. Nurture it with the light of My presence. 

 

When you bring Me prayer requests, lay out your concerns before Me.

Speak to Me candidly; pour out your heart.

Then thank Me for the answers that I have set into motion long before you can discern the results....

*From an awesome devotional called Jesus Calling by Sarah Young.

 

Oh how I wished I had read this and thought about this and thanked God for this in advance of my doctor's appointment yesterday.  To have that truth in the forefront of my mind, my heart, my spirit would have made all the difference.  Yet how thankful I am that God is a God who gives us a clean slate, who welcomes us with open arms and has new mercies for us each morning.  How thankful that I can choose differently today.  And tomorrow. And the days after that until I have the pleasure of meeting The King of kings and Lord of lords face-to-face. 

 

With love,

Kristie

 

P.S.  The details:  Surgery is scheduled for 2/28.  It is laparoscopic so the recovery will only be about a week laying low at home.  I'm good with the timing of it - can still do the planned vacations and be feeling good when the kiddos have their February break. 

 

P.P.S.  The prayer requests...if you're looking for specific prayer requests, here they are:

• That my eyes stayed fixed on Christ - nothing or no one else.  That I believe Him in full for all that He has promised me.
• That Chad continues to be strengthened and encouraged; believe it or not, he is bearing the brunt of this burden...He is my prayer warrior, my tangible reminder of the love of the Lord, and the guy who makes this sometimes worried and sad girl smile and giggle.
• That my tumor markers return to normal levels and that this suspicious spot would be nothing dangerous. For my body to continue to feel better (I do feel better...less achy)
• That we will have the right words to tell Emilie and Daniel about this surgery.  We will probably not tell them until after my pre-op appointment on 2/15.

Update 2 Million and 65!

Have you ever wished for a window? 

 

My dad worked at Kodak for 30 years.  Because of the need for total dark conditions for many of Kodak's manufacturing processes, he had a few jobs that were located in windowless rooms and buildings.  I remember being probably 10 or 11 and feeling really bad for him that, in the winter months, he'd spend most weekdays without seeing daylight; he'd go in before the sun came up and come home after it had gone down.  Although he never complained, it just didn't seem right to this little girl that anyone had to live anywhere that didn't have windows.

 

In some respects, today was a windowless day for me.

 

One would think that MRIs, CT scans, bone scans, blood work/tumor markers, pain symptoms (or lack thereof)... would be clear windows that reveal what's going inside my body.   So far - today included - this has not held true for me.  This time, the MRI I had last week didn't show anything surprising (it wasn't clear, but didn't show anything vastly different than my other scans), but my tumor markers were above normal for the first time since June.   

 

So that's bad, right?  Tumor markers are no longer normal...that's got to be  bad, right?

 

It could be.

It could not be.

 

What?

 

Apparently it's not uncommon that when a patient starts a new treatment (as I did this past month), tumor markers can go up temporarily. So although it could be a sign that my cancer isn't responding to anti-estrogen based therapies, it's not always the case and my doctor tends to think that I am responding to the treatment.  She said to me, "I'm not all that concerned, Kristie.  They didn't tick up much.  We need to just wait and see until next month."

 

Wait.  And see.  Next month.

 

Five words that, quite honestly, I'm getting tired of hearing.

Five words that make my head and heart be tempted to swirl with fear, worry and frustration.

Five words that make everything in me look frantically for a window.

 

Where is that window that tells me - unequivocally - what's going on inside my body?  

 

I've asked Roswell this question.  I've asked my friends in the medical world this question.  Heck, I may have even asked YOU this question in a moment of frustration!  And don't think that I haven't asked the Lord this question as well.  I've asked Him a million and one times, "What is going on in my body, Lord? Where is that window, Lord?  Show it to me."

 

Do you know what stinkin' answer I get every time - whether I want this answer or not...whether I'm looking for this answer or not...whether I cry when I hear it or not...whether it satisfies me at that moment or not?

Kristie,  I am all that you need to see.

 

But, Lord, I want to see - with my own eyes - what my bones are doing, what this disease may or may not be doing to my body.

Kristie, I am all that you need to see.

 

But, Lord, why is this so confusing? Why can't I see for sure which medical route to take, which nutritional route to take, how this will go?

Kristie, I am all that you need to see.

 

 

Laura and John and the kids came to our house on Sunday.  The boys went to the Bills' game (and I use the word "game" loosely). The little girls played American Girl dolls while  Laura and I talked. And talked.  And...guess what...talked.  Although we talked about way more things than what I can mention here, we talked about this old hymn that both of us used to think was a bunch of old "church-y" words that didn't mean much to us.  Boy, has that changed.

 

The hymn is "Be Thou My Vision."  Although it's not generally my "style" of music and although it uses some old, old words that are hard to immediately understand, I have fallen in love with this hymn.  (Click here to listen/watch if you'd like  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9orhbOwbCK0&feature=related)

 

The lyrics speak of wanting to see only one thing: God - the fullness of God, everything that He is and nothing that He isn't.  About Him being my best thought. About His presence being my light no matter the dark circumstances surrounding me. About Him being my wisdom, my great Father, the inheritance I long for more than any riches that I will receive from my earthly dad.  This hymn invites God to be first in my heart, to be my true treasure, my victory won.  And it ends with a simple, yet unbelievably challenging, line to say with an honest heart before Him: 

 

Whatever befall, still be my vision.

 

Whatever befall.  Can you say that honestly - with no reservation? Nothing held back?  I'm not sure that I can at all times.  But what I am beginning to realize is that I want to be able to do that at a moment's notice, with a pure heart.  I want to be able to stand honestly before My Father and say to Him that You are all that I need. That Your face is all that I need to see. That I trust You with my life and with my death - whenever and however that will be.  I want to say to Him that, if I am kept without a clear window to my physical condition from now until next month or the month after that or the year after that, that I will be satisfied with knowing that  You are all I need to see.  

 

Lord, today...at this moment...be my vision.  All that I see.

 

So, what do I do for the next 28 days until my return to Roswell?  

 

I wait. 

And I sing that song.  

And I keep my eyes fixed on Christ.

And I trust in the One who created me, the One who loves me, dreams over me, the One who sees me.

Oh, and I get to go one a fun little trip to Aspen with my darling husband in a few weeks. (No skiing for me this year, but other adventures await, I'm sure)  :)

 

Good night, my friends...

K.

Tonight...I'm Home

Hi all...

 

Let me just say that today wasn't a day that I really want to repeat any time soon.  Although I don't know the results of either one of my tests, they were both not fun (surprise!) so I'm glad they're both over.   

 

I began my day with a Gyn ultrasound.  (I won't go into any more details than that other than to say what woman wants to do that 3 days before Christmas!) And I ended my day with an MRI which took over 1 1/2 hours to do.  Poor Chad, sitting in the waiting room without a functioning Blackberry.  Wait...what about poor Kristie?  Oh yes, that's right...I wasn't exactly lying on the beach reading a good book.  No...picture being totally still inside a small tube that makes some crazy, crazy loud noises for 90 minutes.  No twitching, no coughing, no talking, no singing and certainly no stretching.  However, they do pull you out of the tube - you can't move however - to inject some contrast solution into a mini-IV they put in your arm. That was a nice break.    When they finally shut off the machine and pulled the ear plugs out of my ears, I realized that I had just gained a deeper appreciation for construction workers who use jackhammers all day long. 

 

So that was the not-so-great part of my day.

 

Want to hear the great part? 

You. Yep, you all floored me again.

 

My email last night wasn't intended to be a plea for help with Christmas preparations.  It was meant to just say, I DON'T WANT TO BE AT ROSWELL 4 days before Christmas. 

But when the 40+ emails rolled into my inbox throughout the day, each one with either a word of encouragement or an offer to make cookies, bring dinner, clean my house, wrap my presents, stuff my Christmas card envelopes...

 

But when I found out that someone was going to come over to watch my kiddos tonight so that I didn't have to go to Roswell by myself as I thought I would have to...

 

But when I got home at 8 PM tonight and someone had broken into my house to deliver a coffee cake...

 

But when I checked my voice mail and heard the news that a contingent of people are bringing me dinner, breakfast, treats, snacks...

 

But when Chad came home with two huge plates of Christmas cookies and an offer to bring dinner in the next day from a friend...

 

But when several people offered to watch my kiddos so that I can have some more time to prepare...

...But when all these things happened, I was truly floored.  In all honesty, I am embarrassed that I complained in my email.  And I am humbled that people who are just as busy - if not even busier - than I would prioritize loving me and my family.  And I am even more overwhelmed with how well the Lord is taking care of us through you. 

 

So, here's what I want you to know:  while you all cannot fix this, you are absolutely demonstrating to me the power of active love - whether that's measured by cookies baked or prayers prayed or words spoken or hugs given.    Whether you realize it or not, you are neon signs pointing me to my Heavenly Father...who is the Only One who can set all things right, who is the Only One who can go into the MRI tube with me, who is the Only One who is wise enough to guide us through this difficult chapter in our life's journey with Him.  

 

Where would I be without Him?  Without you?

 

And that, my friends, is what makes a hard day not quite so hard.

And that's what makes a day that - on one hand I don't want to repeat - go down in the record books as a good day.

And that's what makes the tears flow for good reasons down my cheeks.

 

Grateful.  That's about all I can say. Grateful.

With love,

Kristie

Last Night...

Hi all.

 

Just a quick request for prayer...

 

I'm the lucky one who gets to go to Roswell twice tomorrow.  Once in the AM for a routine Gyn exam/ultrasound and once at 5 PM for an MRI of my back.  The MRI is a follow-up from my appointment a couple of weeks ago. I've never had an MRI of my back and they're doing it to get another type of image so that they can better assess whether or not the increased activity that showed up on both my CT and Bone Scans is due to tumor flare or to a progression of disease.  I won't get the results until the 28th (when I go in for more blood work and my next injections).

 

So, let's see...Christmas cards aren't done.  Presents aren't wrapped.  Baking isn't done.  House isn't clean.  Meals aren't planned...

The perfect time of the year to spend several hours at Roswell, don't ya think?!?

 

Thanks, friends...

K.

Today - End of The Day

Sorry this update is so long in coming.  Came home from my appointment to a major snow storm and no power.   Now, power is back on, kids are playing in the snow and I have a couple of minutes to update you.

 

So...in summary...for Laura it was a good day all around. The doctor is pleased that, after taking out the tumors and doing an examine of the outside of the organs in her abdominal cavity (including "washing" them and dong the pathology on the cells from that washing), no evidence of cancer was found.   She is feeling pretty good and doesn't have to see him again for 6 weeks.  Great news!

 

For me...it's a mixed bag.   My tumor markers are good and the spots in my lungs are the same.  The problem is my bones.  My scans (both CT and bone) show more "light spots."  One explanation is that this is a progression of my disease (i.e., the Tamoxifen isn't working any longer).  The other explanation is that, no, the medicine is working, but this is the last bit of tumor flare that first appeared back in June and, thus, it's actually bony turnover or evidence that my bones are healing.  My doctor's gut feel is that it's tumor flare. However, she doesn't want to keep me on Tamoxifen any longer in case she's wrong.  The good news is that she has recommended that I go on another, just-as-effective-if-not-more-effective-than Tamoxifen anti-estrogen treatment (Femora).  This means that I continue with basically the same treatment...one pill a day...hot flashes...but NO CHEMO.  I will start taking this daily pill tonight and will continue for probably 2 months before I have to be scanned again. 

 

So...the best medicine has to offer is still an incomplete picture. 

 

In some ways that's super frustrating and in other ways it just makes it even more clear that there still is only One in whom it makes any sense to place my hope, my trust and my future.   Oh that I can keep my eyes focused on Him...

 

Thanks for your prayers today.  As hard as it was for Chad and I to wait 2 hours (1+ of those hours were actually in the exam room after hearing that, "the report from my scans isn't great, but Dr. O'Connor is consulting with the radiologists to see how she's going to interpret these results...she'll be in with you as soon as she can." How hard was that?!?)  it was just fabulous to know that we were not "alone" in that room.

 

Love to you all

K.