Update #83

Realized that I didn't let you all know (at least via email!) about the results of my scans yesterday.  Oops. Sorry. 

Easy day!  The scans show stability and/or improvement. This means that the current chemo drug I'm on will be what I continue with for the time being. 

So…tomorrow I go for Part 1 of Round #3 of chemo. 

So far, the side effects of this drug continue to be MUCH easier than those of the first drug I was on this summer.  

While I don't feel great and while eating is still hard, I recognize myself again.  

Well…I guess I really don't recognize myself if I'm talking about what I see in the mirror. 

That girl staring back at me is a bit scarier than the girl who I remember myself to be.  

But, when I think of how I'm not just laying on the couch all day or feeling crappy all day… 

THAT feels much more like my old self.  

So…thanks for your prayers and your encouragement. This would be so much more difficult without you…

Love to you all,

K. 

Update #82

Easy news today at Roswell.

Phew. 

The lumbar puncture came back negative which means that there is no cancer in my brain!  

And my tumor markers have dropped for the first time in months and months!

What does this mean, you ask?

The negative lumbar puncture most likely means that the buzzing sound in my head (tinnitus) isn't due to lesions in my brain.  However, we still don't know exactly what's causing it. My hypothesis is that it's due to the chemo drug because it's gotten better these last two days (since this past week has been my week off from chemo).  However, given this isn't a commonly reported side effect of the drug, my doctor isn't ready to firmly draw that conclusion.  

The tumor marker drop most likely means that this new chemo drug is having a positive effect on the cancer in my body.  I'm getting scanned in 3 weeks to have a more definitive picture as to what's going on, but for now, I'll totally rejoice that, not only has this new chemo been easier on my body due to the lowered nausea, it also seems to be at least somewhat effective. 

So…within this hard road of a cancer diagnosis, today was way easier than it could have been and I am so thankful.  

I"m thankful for your prayers. 

I'm thankful for your words of encouragement. 

I'm thankful for the meals. 

I'm thankful for the flowers and little gifts.

And I'm beyond thankful for the - not one, not two, but THREE! -  happy dances/kick line videos that you sent my way today to show how excited you were to hear of my easy news! :)

Love to you all,

K. 

Update #81 - Part A and B

Part A From This Morning:

Going to Roswell at 10 AM today for a brain MRI. Since Tuesday, I've been having buzzing in my head (like ringing in the ears).  Could be a side effect of the new chemo.  Could be brain lesions. Could be something inconsequential.  Yes, if you're thinking that's a wide range of explanations, you would be correct!  I will be called later today with the results and will be back in touch when I do. 

Thanks all,

K.

Part B From This Afternoon:

Well… 

It's still a mystery.

My MRI is relatively unchanged from my last one a few weeks ago. However, there's some potential that there's cancer in the lining of my brain near my ear canal.  It's very inconclusive.  So, the neuro-radiologist and my oncologist recommend that I have a lumbar tap to extract the fluid to see if there are cancer cells present.  If there are…well...hat's a really hard thing.  If there are not, then my oncologist really doesn't know why I'm having these symptoms and we'll have to cross that bridge (PLEASE LET ME HAVE TO CROSS THAT BRIDGE!) when we get there. 

So…next step is a lumbar puncture on Thursday morning at 8:30.  I'm just getting poked and prodded like crazy, aren't it? And I thought my week would be a quiet week…

My sister's church in Pittsburgh sent me this awesome hand-written card this past week.  In it, they copied for me an excerpt from a devotional called, Our Daily Bread.  It said, "God becomes a reality when He becomes a necessity."  

God became a reality for me when I was just 16 years old.  When I  - with all my smarts and capabilities - thought that I had life all figured out and then I realized that I really didn't.  When I started to understand that as capable as I was, I just wasn't that good.  Wasn't that powerful. Wasn't that smart.  I needed someone far, far greater than I in order for my life to make sense.  Christ became real to me then because I discovered that I needed Him. 

And that hasn't changed.  

26 years later. 

That hasn't changed.

I am reminded of my great need for Him daily.  

Minute by minute. 

Waiting for the test. Waiting for the phone call. Processing the conversations with doctors. Looking into the faces of my sweet children as I contemplate what to tell them.

What reminds you?  

What reminds you of your need for God?  

What circumstance or relationship difficulty or internal battle presses in on you to gently or loudly tap on your shoulder, reminding you that you are ill-equipped on your own to thrive in your own journey? 

How I hope it's something.

Not because I want you to be facing hard things.  Not. At. All.

But, rather, it's because I am convinced that what we think about God is one of – if not THE - most important things about us. And sometimes we need the unpleasant pressure of hard things to drive away the distractions and the chasings of the wind in order to see clearly our need for the One who created us, who loves us and who has called us to be His own.  

He becomes a reality when He becomes a necessity. 

Love it. 

I'll be back in touch on Thursday or Friday to let you know if the mystery is solved…

Much love to you

K.

Update #80

Yesterday was my mom's birthday, Chad's mom's birthday, my good friend's birthday and my cousin's birthday (and perhaps even someone else to whom this email is going).

How I wish I had some celebratory news to share, especially with them.

Sadly, that isn't the case.

Despite the chemo treatments I've been on, the cancer continues to progress. [Yes, that means all the nausea this past summer was for naught! A bit frustrating, but I understand that that's just part of the process of dealing with this disease.]

So as scheduled, I will have a chest port installed today around 11 AM and then on Friday I will start a new chemo drug.  This one is given two weeks on, one week off.  To ensure that this medicine is having a positive impact, I will have repeat scans done in just 6 weeks, rather than the typical 3 months.

Oh goody.  

This is so much fun. 

Actually, I'm doing ok. I wasn't blind-sided by this news and that made it a lot easier to hear.  If I had thought that my body was responding beautifully and then heard what I heard yesterday, I would have had a much harder time accepting this.  If my chemo treatments thus far had been a walk in the park without side effects, then I would be scared and sad to move on to a new drug. And, most importantly, if I thought my life was only about living the most number of days, then I would be absolutely traumatized that this news - without God's intervention  to halt and eradicate the cancer in my body - would drastically shorten those days. 

No, these results weren't easy to hear.  Please don't read the above paragraph and think that there were no tears shed, no worries that crossed minds, no apprehensions about the yuckiness of cancer progression.  There were.   But, I also don't want you to think that we measure the goodness of our lives – and more importantly, the goodness of God -  based off of scan results.  I've had enough scan results – both "good" and "bad" results – to tell you that they cannot fully satisfy you (the "good ones), nor can they fully destroy you (the "bad" ones).  

Ooops…just looked at the time.  Gotta go. Off to Roswell.

Hey, at least this time this surgery ADDS something to my body, rather than takes something away from it!  :)

Much love and thankfulness for you,

K.

Update #79 - Scans Today

Well… I don't have to get my chemo treatment today as this is my "rest" week.  That's a heehaw.

BUT…I do need to have scans done today to see if/how my body has responded to this lovely chemo regiment. 

On Wednesday, I'll get the results.  

Then on Thursday - unless I get an ALL CLEAR report (to which I would fall on my face in amazement, thankfulness, and shock) - I will be having a procedure to implant a port in my chest so that I don't have to keep getting chemo through my hand and it's tired-of-being-poked veins. Although there is a great benefit of not feeling the pain of a needle digging around in your hand trying to capture less-than-cooperative veins, I am not happy about having a chest port installed and predict that that will be a tough, emotional thing for me.  

Yet another outward and "permanent" symbol of the spoils this disease has taken. 

While I know through Scripture that the spoils cancer has taken are temporary, they are felt deeply by me each day as I live this thing out.  From lack of body parts I once had, to lack of hair I once had, to lack of energy I once had, to lack to activities I once did, to lack of foods I once ate, to lack of pounds I once carried.  Those are losses.  They are felt.  They are difficult to let go of and live contentedly.  Impossible, I would argue, without also knowing the greater truth that Paul speaks of in 2 Corinthians 4:16-18.  

"We don’t give up. Our bodies are becoming weaker and weaker. But our spirits are being renewed day by day. Our troubles are small. They last only for a short time. But they are earning for us a glory that will last forever. It is greater than all our troubles.  So we don’t spend all our time looking at what we can see. Instead, we look at what we can’t see. What can be seen lasts only a short time. But what can’t be seen will last forever."

Here's what I love about this passage:  it's honest.  It says it plainly… "Yep, Kristie, your body is becoming weaker.  But, you are more than your body.  And just because your body is under attack, doesn't mean your spirit has to be too.  Just because your body is becoming weaker, your spirit can be moving in the exact opposite direction – toward great strength.  And those troubles?  Yep, they're troubles alright.  Never want to try to tell you that they're not.  But, Kristie, those troubles are short-lasting in light of eternity.  And they are producing a mighty work.  They are earning you a glory that so far exceeds the trouble."  

And here's what else I love about this passage: The challenge.  The challenge of "so what are you going to do about this?"  So what are you going to do about your body failing at the same time your spirit has the opportunity to soar?  Are you going to spend all your time looking at the deterioration? At your crazy wisps of hair that remain?  Or the numerous scars on your body? Or the shrinking size of your frame? Or even the new bandages for this port that you'll have with you for the next few weeks? Are you going to keep your eyes there?

OR

Are you going to look at the things you can't see, the things of promise included all through Scripture, the encouragement that comes when standing in His light and trading in your sorrows and fears for His love and His power? 

See, it's still about the eyes.  Where my eyes go. Where your eyes go.  Do they fall prey to the loud, flamboyantly-waving arms of the direness of your circumstances?  Do they desperately try to find a sense of peace as they only focus on the swirling, unstable ground those circumstances are creating?  Or do they respond to the strong pull of the loving face of the Savior who speaks grace and peace and joy and truth and power into those circumstances? Who calms, and takes on our burdens, and releases us from darkness, and instills joy? 

How I'd love to tell you that I've gotten this mastered: eyes only on His face.  But that's not true.  But what I can tell you to be true – after living in a pretty rough place for the past three months – is that there is NOTHING good or hope-filled about living with your eyes only on your circumstances.  Been there. Done that. Nothing good comes.  Just grumpiness, bitterness, frustration, and the sense that nothing will ever be okay again.

So, would you pray with me that my eyes – your eyes – be focused on the unseen reality around us?  That we can acknowledge our troubles, but not give them far more power than they are ever intended to have?  That we don't assume that what's happening in our circumstances is what also has to be happening in our spirits?  That we can be renewed powerfully at the exact same time that our bodies and/or our circumstances are falling apart?  

Hard stuff, but important stuff. 

Much love,

K.

Update #76

Monday, I had the incredible privilege of being in the delivery room when Danielle and Ryan welcomed their second little boy, Hudson John, into this world.  

How thankful I am for that great joy. 

Tuesday, I had a liver biopsy that went relatively easily.  Minimal to no lasting discomfort.  No scarring. Almost no impact to my life.  

How thankful I am for that unexpected gift.

Today, was chemo.  It was physically fairly easy (other than the Benadryl drip which made me light-headed, a touch queasy and super tired.)  

How thankful I am for that aspect of today.

And of course, I am thankful for others things from today – from medical technologies, to a great husband, to family and friends who love us well - but, even with that thankfulness in mind, the rest of my time there today was anguishing.    

I cried after the nurse put the line in and came back with all the tubing that I needed for the infusion.

I cried after the pre-meds were administered and she came to hook up the chemo agent (Taxol).

Tears streaming down my face and quiet shudders so to not disturb the other patients in the infusion room.

And then, when it was over and we got into the car, the "crying like a baby" turned into "screaming like a toddler."  

In fact, you could say that I had a full-fledged temper tantrum.

[Aren't you proud of me that I waited to do that until I got into the car? :) ]

You see, despite knowing truths about God's power and His never-leaving presence…despite having experienced His tenderness…despite trusting that death is just a gateway to eternal life…despite all those things…I got mad.  (I almost said frustrated, but in reality, that's a cop-out word. The truth is I got downright angry.)

I got mad that, three weeks out of each month, I will have to do this again and again.

I got mad that the caustic nature of chemo will quickly force me into getting a medi-port.

I got mad that soon I will be balding/bald.

I got mad that I'm dumping all these chemicals into my body, after I've been so careful to put good, whole, clean, non-GMO, organic, foods into it.

I got mad that the alternative treatments that I have been doing for the past few years haven't seemed to make an impact.

I just got mad.

And, boy, did I let God (and, probably, all the cars that drove by and saw a screaming lunatic and her crying husband!) know it.

What do you do when you get mad?

Do you keep it inside and stuff it and pretend everything's fine?

Do you let it out, but direct it at the wrong person or thing?

Or do you let it out and bring it before the only one who can do something about it?

Here's what I know: God doesn't deserve my anger. 

But, even so, He willingly lets me pour out my honest – sometimes mad - heart to Him.

How do I know that He's willing to let us to do that?

Because of Psalm 88. 

Psalm 88 is all about being in a situation you don't understand and don’t like and telling God about it - even going so far to accuse God both of being who He isn't and doing what He doesn't.

[If you're resonating with what I'm saying today take a peek at Psalm 88 in two different translations (https://new.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm%2088&version=NIV;MSG)]

You see, just Psalm 88's INCLUSION in Scripture,  amazes me.

God doesn't deserve to be told things like the Psalmist told God in Psalm 88. 

Yet God includes it in the Bible.

Why would He do that?  Why would He allow those unfair, unfounded, accusatory words to be included in His word?

Because He knows us. He knows that sometimes our roads are so hard that we wrongly see Him in it.  

And because He loves us.  He loves us so much that He doesn't just TOLERATE us pouring out our hurt hearts to Him, he PROVIDES us the words to us (like those Psalm 88). 

And because He knows we don't want to stay mad.  We want to move past it. We want to return to a place of contented trust.  

So He helps us get it OUT so that we can get His truths IN.

That's why I love God.

Because the truth is I had a Psalm 88 kind of morning.

And, in His great mercy and deep love, He has allowed me to pour out screaming feelings so that He can move me past Psalm 88 and into Psalm 100:

Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.

Worship the Lord with gladness;

Come before Him with joyful songs.

Know that the Lord is God.

Is is He who made us, and we are His;

We are His people, the sheep of His pasture.

Enter His gates with thanksgiving

And His courts with praise;

Give thanks to Him and praise His name.

For the Lord is good and His love endures forever;

His faithfulness continues through all generations.

I don't know what in your life has you angry.

I don't what what you're doing about it.

But let me encourage you that your Heavenly Father longs to bend His ear to hear your honest heart and longs to open His mouth to whisper His soothing truths in your ear.

To restore you.

To set your feet on solid ground.

To return joy to your heart.

May we all hear Him.

And may it matter.

Love to you.

K.

Update #75

Slight change of plans. 

Headed to Roswell tomorrow for a liver biopsy.  My doctor wants to ensure that the properties/bio-markers of my breast cancer haven't changed as they sometimes can do.  I will be escorted by my friend Michelle at 6:30 AM (gold star for her!) and will have the procedure around 9 AM. My hope is that I will be home in time to get my kids off the bus as it's Emilie's last full day of 7th grade.   

As many of you have asked….

I am doing well.  I'm actually doing very well.  God has been showing up in huge, unexpected and comforting ways.  I have been greatly and clearly reminded that He goes before me.  He always has and He always will, no matter how it might appear.   He goes before and He is good.  Those are, quite honestly, two truths that have been stretched and challenged and held together tenuously at best sometimes over the past several weeks.  I will never give you the wrong idea and tell you that it is because I dug deep, and I clawed my way out, and I made a choice of my will, that I was able to come back to a place of quiet rest in His truths.  

That would be so incredibly not true.

The fact is that God, in His great mercy, rescued me from living one more second in a place that bordered on despair, certainly crossed into anger and frustration.  

He hasn't (yet) changed my circumstances – I'm still having a liver biopsy tomorrow, I'm still on the books for starting chemo on Wednesday – but He has set my mind within the safe borders of His truths. 

And that is a good place – no, a great place - to be. 

Super thankful for that.

And….Because my husband ROCKS…he willingly and enthusiastically shared his Father's Day day of rest with me. He put up with a repeat dinner from last night; a practical, but not super thoughtful gift; and a free ice cream cone at a local ice cream shop, rather than a homemade dessert. He graciously put up with all that so I could totally take advantage of the perfectly sunny and warm day today and get some chill time on the hammock.  

Dappled shade, a slight breeze, a good book, and worship music playing in my ears.  

A glimpse of Heaven. 

And I'll take it. 

:)