One of my favorite authors is Kate Bowler. She is an associate professor at Duke Divinity School and has Stage IV Colon Cancer. Her podcasts are so amazing that I listen to them more than once. Even her social media posts are inspiring as she gives blessings for people challenged with a variety of issues. I found her book, Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I’ve Heard, shortly after my own diagnosis with Stage IV Breast Cancer. I highly recommend it.
Another author and Stage IV Breast Cancer survivor, Nancy Treat, wrote an article that explains how to be a better helper when someone you love is hurting. She quotes Kate Bowler. It is amazing and I am sharing it for you to read here.
I began my day at the gym. I have the most awesome trainer who understands my limitations yet still pushes me to improve. I never want to go, but afterwards am so proud that I went.
I spent the afternoon and evening with my daughter and it was amazing. We both love the used book store in downtown Champaign, Jane Addams Bookshop. I found several I couldn’t pass up, including one that my pastor had recommended to me: The Wounded Healer by Henri Nouwen. We shopped for new jeans for me since I’ve lost more weight and have dropped another size. That sure improved my mood.
We went to Harvest Market to look for my favorite snack these days, Hippeas. They are puffed chick peas and delicious and crunchy but not many points on the diet I follow. They are difficult to find so when I saw how many there were at this new store, I was a little happy.
My birthday present from my daughter was spending the day together and matching tattoos – my first tattoo.
I have always had a high tolerance for pain and 4 years of MBC has only increased that. I could barely feel it. Accessing my port for chemo is much more painful than a tattoo and that happens at least every three weeks. The chair was comfy and my daughter and I had lots of time to visit during the process.
We chose our matching first initials. My daughter had saved up to pay for the whole thing. I love it!
It’s been 4 years since my old life disappeared in an instant. Four years ago I had never heard of metastatic breast cancer and didn’t know that mammograms do not see cancer in people with dense breast tissue. I’ve been through 68 chemo treatments, 3 gamma knife procedures, radiation on my adrenal gland and my shoulder, numerous scans, had my lungs drained of fluid twice, and spent my first times in the hospital for something other than childbirth. I had to quit work. My medical expenses have skyrocketed. Yet…
I have learned to prioritize my time and my relationships. I have a group of friends who have rallied around me. I’ve made so many friends in the MBC world. I’m sorry for the reason we met but I’m so grateful they are part of my life. I don’t sweat the small things anymore. I feel like I have a direct line to talk with God.
I have big plans for Cancerversary 5.0 so let’s “get to the getting” (as my husband would say). 🩷🩵💚
This is a time of year that passes by painfully slow – the days leading up to my Cancerversary. It marks a period of time when I can remember all the painful details of finding a lump in my right breast, through the series of diagnostic steps, to the actual date of diagnosis.
This is a photo from June 2019 at a wedding that my husband officiated. The reception was at Illinois State University and it was a fun evening. This is the last photo I have of me before the shadow of breast cancer appeared. I admit to studying it late at night, looking in the eyes and trying to remember what it felt like to be her. I remember that I accompanied a vocalist at a different wedding and then joined my husband at “his” wedding. I remember visiting with friends. I remember who sat at our table. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot remember how this version of me felt.
Fast forward to July 10, 2019. July was hectic since my company’s fiscal year-end was June 30 so I was working very long hours to prepare the financials for our audit. Beginning June 30 I pretty much worked straight through for several days to get on top of what needed to be completed. I felt strangely good about where things stood and left the office at a regular time and went for a 10K jog. I had completed my first 5K in April and had entered a 10K for the fall. I was in the best physical shape in 20 years. I felt so good about myself as I jogged up our lane. I took a shower and felt a lump in my right breast. I remember telling my husband about it that evening and decided I would make an appointment with my primary care doctor the next day. I was sure it was probably nothing since I had been so good about getting annual mammograms since my 40th birthday. Nine years of “all clear” mammograms gave me enough confidence to figure there could not possibly be cancer in my breast.
July 12, 2019 I saw my doctor who scheduled another mammogram. My previous mammogram was in the fall of 2018 and it was “all clear.” Surely a cancerous tumor would not grow so large in just a few months. The weekend after my doctor appointment was busy. 4-H House Cooperative Sorority celebrated its 85th Reunion at University of Illinois and my very best friend who I met at the house was coming from out of state to attend. We had a blast. We discussed the upcoming appointments and I told her that, at worst, it was breast cancer and I would beat it just like all the women we had read about. I would have surgery and lose my hair and then be just fine. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.
July 17, 2019 It was audit week at the elevator – one of the busiest and most important weeks for me at work. I had to ask the GM to take a few hours off that day. I told him it was a medical test that was important and couldn’t wait. The results from that mammogram were just like the ones I had received for years. They did not see cancer. But since they knew the doctor confirmed the lump, they scheduled a biopsy for the following week. I had battled anxiety my entire life and all this happening during the audit period was difficult to endure.
July 24, 2019 The audit was over at work but now was the time period where I was responsible for producing financials for the board of directors and the shareholder as well as issuing patronage and dividend checks. My stomach was a mess and figured it was stress. My doctor scheduled an abdominal ultrasound after the biopsy to rule out gall bladder problems. I told the GM that I would be in later in the morning that day. I really believed that. My husband offered to come with me to the tests but I assured him I would be fine.
They used ultrasound to locate the lump for the biopsy. I remember when the jellyfish shaped object appeared on screen. I was still hoping for a cyst of some kind and I knew that was not likely a cyst. They completed the abdominal ultrasound immediately afterwards. I was having a good chat with the technician until she seemed to get very serious and very quiet. I was still focused on my gall bladder. My husband was waiting for me when I got out and we talked about how to fit gall bladder surgery into my work schedule and our kids’ schedules. We talked about it not being convenient but we would handle it.
Dave went with me to the doctor’s office to get results. My doctor was out so I was seeing a nurse practitioner I had never met. They called us back. The NP looked nervous. She held a folder in her hand and said, “This is no easy way to say this.” Yes, I had breast cancer. But my liver was also covered with innumerable masses, too. This meant the breast cancer had already spread to my liver. In addition there was a large mass on my right adrenal gland, so the cancer had spread there, too. They scheduled a CT scan for the next day that ultimately also saw that cancer was in my bones, too. (My gall bladder, though, was just fine!) I joined the world of Metastatic Breast Cancer that day.
July 27, 2019 – my 50th Birthday
I do not remember any details from this day. My family really wanted to take me out to celebrate my birthday so I agreed. You can see the change in me. This is the new me.
Life is only beautiful because it ends.
Consider plastic flowers. No one gushes over them. But fresh flowers create an entirely different emotion. And the difference is that we know fresh flowers die. We value the time we have with them because we know they will not last forever. My life was horribly disrupted by my diagnosis. All the plans and dreams I had prior to that day disappeared instantly. But my life became more precious and more beautiful because I was forced to acknowledge that it is finite. Making priorities became so much simpler. Saying no to things became a regular occurrence. I have met the most wonderful people in the MBC world who are my dear friends. I live in the valley of the shadow – but shadow is proof there is light. I am better off for having MBC. It transformed me. But this new wisdom wasn’t worth it. It certainly does not make cancer “a gift.”
If I have to go through hell, at least I’m going to try to bring something out with me. Fish do not know what water is until they are removed from it. A flower is only beautiful because it dies. I did not choose this life, but I will move forward with this life I did not choose.
The first house my husband and I bought was in Roberts, IL, a tiny village about twenty minutes north east of our current home. At that time, Dave and I were both working for a company whose headquarters were in that tiny village. We both traveled for work, but being close to the corporate office was convenient. We had no children when we moved in. When we moved out we had three children. That simple house (the mortgage payment was less than my car payment) brings back so many fond memories for us. The very best part of that house was our next door neighbors – Wayne and Marian. They were retired farmers not much older than my parents and they adopted us immediately. In the early years that was baked goods being exchanged, waves at the window and occasional chats at the end of our driveway. Soon everyone in Roberts knew us because Wayne and Marian were busy “talking us up” around town. It seemed that, since Wayne and Marian loved us, everyone they knew also deemed us lovable.
Once I had a baby, though, they became woven into our life. Our first baby went through colic and I could count on Marian to come hold him so I could take a break from the crying and take a shower. She always assured me that I knew what I was doing as a first time mom, when I most certainly did not. She never criticized but could always find a way to mention something that worked for her back in her day, and it often worked for me, too. I stayed at home part-time with the oldest so we had lots of time to wander over to visit, especially just before dinner. I would be waiting for Dave to come home from work to give me a bit of a break from parenting. Wayne and Marian split a beer every evening before dinner so Ross and I started joining them. Ross would drink juice from a sip cup and the three adults would split two beers. Those were the most glorious happy hours ever. They had wonders in their house like a clock that had different bird sounds for each hour and a lower cupboard filled with pots and pans especially for little ones to empty and fill over and over. My oldest delighted them by crawling backwards all over their house, the only way he crawled for many months. Each time Wayne would exclaim, “Look at that! He only has one gear – reverse!” That little guy would pull himself up to our kitchen window that looked out to the neighbor’s driveway and call out, “Moo – ian! Moo-ian!” He preferred to be at her house always.
Around the same time we added a second child we had our final goodbyes with Wayne. Marian kept to herself for a few weeks but then reiterated herself into our family with gusto. By then I only worked part time at night so I had my days with two little boys. I was particularly challenged figuring out how to take care of two active boys. Marian always made me feel like I had everything under control and could depend on my instincts. She would come rock a baby if I found myself dealing with a challenging problem with the oldest, or I could send the oldest toddling over to her house as I watched out the window if I wanted a chance to nap with the baby. Marian kept her house so clean you could eat off her garage floors. She had a green thumb and spent time daily caring for her plants and flowers inside and out. My oldest would zoom over to help her, which at that age meant talking incessantly while she hovered over her plants. Number two learned to toddle over to Marian’s and find a big plastic watering can she kept handy in the garage just for him. He would drag that around and “help” her garden, too. There was one tiny step to reach her driveway and that little fella thought that was like climbing a wall. He would stop and look at it and think about it for a while before taking a big breath and climbing that one tiny step. Marian clapped for him every single time.
Our third child joined our family at a time of transitions. In the first year of her life we adjusted to being a family of five, dealt with the diagnosis of a major developmental issue with one of our children, tread water as my husband’s job in investments struggled to recover from 9-11, and sat back helplessly as my dad struggled with severe mental illness that saw him hospitalized over and over. Just when I thought I was at my limit, Marian would show up with her famous tea rings or cinnamon rolls, or an invitation to come over for dinner, or just for a quick hug in my doorway. She seemed to alway sense when I needed her most.
We moved when our youngest was not quite a year old. The hardest part about it, by far, was leaving Marian behind. She would come visit us and bring tea rings and cinnamon rolls. I would play the piano and the kids and I would sing for her. Sometimes I would load up the crew and visit her but I felt so bad when one of the littles broke something in her house of so many lovely collectibles. It was much easier to have her come to us! Eventually, though, time brought about a move for Marian, to an assisted living facility about twenty minutes from us. By that time my kids were taking piano, voice, dance, trumpet and trombone lessons so we would bring an entire variety show to her! She would plan a time to reserve the great room. I would load up a keyboard, trumpet, trombone, dance shoes, amplifier and tons of music and The Browns would entertain all the residents. Marian was so proud to introduce us as her special guests. She would also reserve the kitchen at the facility so she could still make hundreds of tea rings to donate to church functions and special fundraisers. She thrifted pillow cases and sewed hundreds of dresses and sent them to Africa, including one extra special one to my little girl. She moved to a facility in Champaign in her eighties and learned to ride the public bus system since she could not drive anymore. I am still impressed by her gumption to figure it out and not let it keep her from going and doing the things she wanted to do.
Finally, in her nineties, she moved to an assisted living facility in our town and it was a glorious homecoming! I could visit her more often and stop in and play the piano and sing for her anytime. Her apartment was filled with photos of her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren and she went through the family tree at each visit. I feel like I know each of them because of how much she talked about them. Marian dressed well and always had the most beautifully manicured nails (and she always did them herself). This was unlike any farm woman I knew! She played cards and was always crafting something. Marian’s faith was deep and something we discussed in depth in later years when it was just the two of us visiting. When Marian entered Hospice this spring I was privileged to spend a few hours with her on her final day here. I thanked her profusely for all the confidence she gave me as a new mom and as a not-so-new mom. I thanked her for loving me and my children as her own. I thanked her for being one of my dearest friends. I thanked her for always reaching out to me to offer a hand, a hug, or a tea ring. My life is profoundly better for having Marian in it for so many years. Isn’t it amazing what can happen when a neighbor reaches out to another neighbor?
I had a tightly packed schedule planned at Barnes today including a brain MRI, visit with my radiation oncologist, echocardiogram and my 68th treatment. A 90 minute Amtrak delay added a little craziness to the day. The radiation oncology appointment will be a phone visit tomorrow, but everything else happened, just much later than planned. It is a quiet evening in the chemo pod and I’m staying at the hotel connected to Barnes by a walkway.
It’s official; I’m slaying cancer and listening to Taylor in the chemo pod, specifically “Speak Now (Taylor’s Version).
My life these days is in a holding pattern – a state of no progress or change while waiting for something to happen. I guess you could say that is an improvement given the cascade of chaos that has ruled my life this year. I am diligently learning to be, a skill I need for survival.
I mark time as BC (Before Cancer) and AC (After Cancer). BC I was an avid reader although I usually only made time for reading related to my job as a CPA and Controller. For more than two years AC I could only read things about cancer. No other genre could hold my attention span for any length of time. I was gradually able to add those used for book discussions at my church. When church friends formed a group to discuss Demon Copperhead, I decided to try fiction again. The passage of time and a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel helped me relearn how to lose myself in a book. I didn’t realize that was my first step in Learning to Be. I revised my Goodreads account and downloaded an app for my local library and have been reading almost every day for a few months. I am enjoying an online book club for MBC. My youngest lab, Madi, assumes her position underneath my legs as I read in bed. It is a calm way to wind down my days.
Time spent on Heidi’s Oasis is still the best part of my day. I have strawberries, tomatoes, peppers, cucumber and zucchini growing in pots. Sometimes I read but usually I talk to friends on the phone or sit and listen to the sounds of the birds. It is my very favorite place to be. I would choose it over any vacation destination, even the ocean.
On Tuesday (7/11) I have more scans and my 68th treatment. It will be a very long day at Barnes and Dave is not able to go with me so I’m taking the train down and will come home the next day. This will be the 3rd time this year that I will be alone for scans and treatment. These three events have occurred in the last five months, which indicates the way the year has been going for my family. One of the scans is a brain MRI, which I get every three months since the first brain tumors were discovered in Nov 2020. I handle neck-down scans fairly well these days, but not the brain MRIs. My brain is closely associated with me – my thoughts, memories, emotions, intellect – and I absolutely hate that cancer has invaded me there.
Monday (7/10) is the 4th anniversary of me discovering the lump in my breast. The span of days including 7/10/19 – 7/25/19 are branded in my psyche. I remember the events of those days and my emotions vividly no matter how hard I would like to forget. I used to look at photos of me before 7/10/19 and try to remember how I felt – how it felt to not be fighting for my life – how it felt to be a normal person – how it felt to simply worry over regular things in life instead of when I will die. I have not been able to do that, even to this day.
My coping mechanism these days is to keep my mind occupied with other things. I am a huge Swiftie so I’ve been listening to Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) on loop. I am trying to learn modern calligraphy and hand lettering so I spend time practicing the art in my Llama Lounge.
My mom is an amazing artist and has mastered many genres in her 88 years – sewing, quilting, quilling, knitting, crocheting, oil painting, tatting to name a few. BC my only art was music but AC I’ve been experiencing my own Renaissance as an artist. Art is a great outlet for emotions.
There is always a lab with me wherever I am in the house. Madi slept at my feet while I was in the Llama Lounge today. There is never enough time spent with a dog.
We are experiencing a severe drought in the Midwest but have enjoyed some rain this week. My daughter called me outside Friday evening to see this full rainbow over our farm. What a God nod!
What keeps me going in this holding pattern? Faith is the first thing. This guy is the next. We spent some time at a concert at our county fair last week with dear friends we’ve known for decades. It was so so good to laugh and talk about our memories together BC. I am blessed with an abundance of people who love me and I thank all of you from the bottom of my heart.
I am blessed with some truly great friends in my MBC Family. One of them has her own blog, “No Half Measures.” Her last two blogs explain my own feelings better than I have been able to do myself. Both links are here. Please read them if you wish to understand more about me.
Thank you, Abigail, for your advocacy, your tireless work to facilitate support for us, and mostly for your never-failing friendship. Your well-timed messages, cards, and memes help me keep going on the worst days.
I heard this word this evening and it set my mind whirling. Today was an especially awful day with burdens piling down on my family. Fighting medical insurance and struggling to pay medical bills along with the health problems that prompted it all made me lose any trace of hope today. I poured my heart out to my momma and told her that, even if we won the lottery tomorrow, that would only mean the bills would be paid, but the health problems would still be there. Not much of a victory. She promised to pray and I did the same before a support zoom with some especially dear MBC friends. A surprising phone call changed the trajectory of my day and restored a strand of hope. In that call was a discussion of cravings and I haven’t stopped thinking about my own cravings. I’m enrolled in a weight loss program so I automatically thought of chocolate and carbs, then my beloved Diet Coke with no nutritional value and way too much caffeine for someone battling brain tumors, followed by more time, and always always more money. After a highly anticipated event, I find myself going to bed that night feeling a bit melancholy. Empty.
Nothing on this earth can ever fully satisfy me. I expect my friends and family to fill all the empty spaces in my heart, but they cannot and I need to stop expecting it of them. I cannot fill all the empty spaces in the people I love most dearly. I can offer what I have to give but I cannot allow people to expect it of me. It isn’t fair to make my loved ones think that am the one who can make it all better. My faith is the only thing that can make me feel like I am enough and that I have enough. I go to bed tonight still with MBC, family struggles abounding, insurance battles to fight and astoundingly high bills to pay. But I go to bed with HOPE because God gave me a brief phone call that answered a prayer to be able to hear that voice today. I go to bed with HOPE because I know God is taking care of me. God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction.
I’m a farm girl so for me, “stable” brings to mind our big red barn that has sheltered cattle, sheep, swine, horses, chickens, cats and dogs in the 150 plus years it has existed. Stable can also mean something that is firmly fixed or a sensible person. In the medical world it means something that is not deteriorating. I had neck-down scans on Friday, June 16 that show I am not deteriorating, at least due to cancer, from the neck down. I have 6 healing rib fractures. The newest ones are likely from my big fall. (Yikes! I knew that one really hurt.) I took the Amtrak train down the night before my scans and was able to catch the train home soon after the tests were done. I retrieved the CT scan results from My Chart on the way home. The bone scan results uploaded on Monday.
My second time in a row of going to Scan Day alone.
June 20 was my 67th cancer treatment. I drove myself down and back the same day for that one.
Treatment 67 Slaying Cancer and Listening to Taylor
There really should be a rule that, once you have MBC, there are no other problems in your life. Alas, that is far from the case for me. Those stories involve others so I will just ask for all your prayers for my family. We are in great need of them.
I began Beth Moore’s “Align: 31 Days of Prayer Aligned with God’s Desires” on July 1. I had started to feel like God wasn’t listening to me. While not true in any way, I am trying to shift my prayer strategy to focusing on God’s interests instead of mine. Oh, I’m still pouring my heart out to God for help with my family, but I am also expanding my prayers to deliberately look more at the needs outside my small part of the world to include humankind. Today I read Luke Chapter 2 to look for ways to shape my prayers. I was not very optimistic going into the reading that I would find much in the story of the birth of Jesus. Yet, two verses stuck out as though they were in a bold font waiting for me to read them. Luke 2:19 “But Mary treasured up these things and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:51 “…But his mother treasured all these things in her heart.” God certainly understands mothers. I pray for blessings for all mothers (by birth or other) who treasure their children yet have hearts filled with fear and uncertainty. Help them to turn those children over to God since God is the most loving parent for them.
Today’s devotion said, “As you trust and obey God, he will either deliver you from your affliction or give you a testimony like Joseph’s: God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction. “ May it be so.
This morning some of my family walked the old Chain of Rocks Bridge, originally a motor route, used by U.S. Route 66 (US 66) to cross over the Mississippi. The bridge now carries only walking and biking trails over the river; the New Chain of Rocks Bridge carries vehicular traffic to the north. The old route to the bridge is now called Chain of Rocks Road.
Old Chain of Rocks Bridge
Today is my 66th chemo treatment which seems a bit surreal. I will have neck-down scans before the next treatment. Some extra prayers would be appreciated since my anxiety levels always rise as I anticipate the results. I’m not very prompt in returning calls and messages these days so please be patient. Please know that I read cards and messages multiple times and appreciate all of your prayers and support.
I am not in control. 