Post-Chemo Update

As of yesterday, I am two months out from my last chemo. And I finally feel like I'm back at about 98%! I'm sporting a lovely Christmas mullet and eyebrows that are not 100% pencil. I even have had to shave my legs multiple times this month. Never have I been so happy to feel like a Sasquatch.

I'm still napping occasionally, but guys, it's cold. And sometimes I just like to hunker down under lots of blankets with my heating pad underneath me and my dog beside me and watch weird stuff on YouTube while my brain resets for a while. It's usually a choice and not a necessity, the way that rest has been for the last few months.

I'm not back to running regularly yet because I need to drop a few more steroid (brownie) pounds before I really commit so I don't destroy my knees and hips. But I am exercising normally again. And walking the dog a couple times a day. And going to the grocery store. And all of this WITHOUT HAVING TO SLEEP FOR HOURS AFTERWARD!

I cannot fully explain how awesome it is to enter the Christmas season without having to pick and choose which activities I can do and what I just don't have the energy for. I love knowing that for Christmas break with my kids, we can go-go-go as much as they (and I) want, and I won't have to build in time for naps, or make excuses about too many germs/not enough energy/generally feeling crummy. I'm SO excited!

Yesterday I was walking through the school parking lot to pick up the kids. A friend stopped me to tell me her youngest daughter spotted me and said "Her is SO happy." Very perceptive, little one. I am so happy. I'm glad it's written on my face.

I'm starting to think about my goals for 2019. I was able to achieve (and surpass) my reading goal of 65 books and I successfully tested for and received my pink belt at Gracie Jiu-Jitsu Milwaukee (the completion of the Women Empowered program). The rest of my 2018 goals got pushed aside, but I SURVIVED, so I'm counting it a win.

I think my theme for 2019 is going to be Someday is Today. I'm done with thinking in terms of what I might maybe someday do with or in my life. I'm making someday today. I'm interested to see what kinds of things I embrace and what I let go of with this perspective.

I'll keep you posted.

I Did It

It's done. This chapter of my life that I lived because I had to. That my family had to live because they had to. We did it. The elation and incredible emotion I feel about getting through this is overwhelming. And if you see me in the next month, I am gladly accepting millions of hugs!

Six months of tests and surgeries and scary news and chemo and feeling awful. But also 6 months of incredible friendships, supportive family, finding fun where I could, and living the best way possible on my good days. I didn't lose six months to cancer. I lived differently, certainly, but nothing was lost (except my eyebrows!).

Though I'm (hopefully) through the worst of this cancer journey, it is unfortunately a life-long deal for me. In the coming months I'll have a PET Scan to double-check that we got everything. Then I'll meet with my team of doctors to do what they call a survivorship meeting, where we lay out what the rest of my life will look like (spoiler alert - getting very healthy and active, as there's no known way to prevent my particular kind of lymphoma from coming back). Then every six months for the next year or two I'll have a CT scan to make sure nothing is popping back up. Eventually I'll go down to annual check ups with my oncologist, but I imagine for a long, long time, if not forever, I'll be very nervous any time I get sick or have any of the symptoms I had that lead to my diagnosis.

I will not let that nervousness stop me. I'm thankful to have gained an incredible perspective from this experience and that is - Life is too short for planning. The time to DO is NOW. Be with my family. Travel. Enjoy the odd little things that make me happy. Laugh with my friends every day. Get the tattoos I've been thinking about forever. Take a trip with my husband. Visit my family who I haven't seen in a long time. I WILL NOT SIT AROUND WORRYING OR PLAYING THE WHAT IF GAME. I refuse to waste my time like that.

Whether you have supported me from near or far, brought us meals or flowers, dropped off my kids, sent me cards, walked my dog, texted me late into then night, sent gifts, sent prayers, walked or run with me, encouraged me and my family in any way through this - THANK YOU. I hope to never have reason to support you through something like this, but rest assured, if you ever need me for ANYTHING, I am a phone call away. I cannot stress enough how much I love and appreciate the people in my life. I just can't put it into words. I have an amazing tribe, and I'm so grateful you're part of my life.

Remember - A Letter to My Future Self

Dude.

Remember that one time you had cancer?

Remember how you went from working out 5-7 times a week to not being able to walk up a flight of stairs without having to lie down and wait for the dizziness to pass? Remember when you fainted trying to walk to the bathroom? Please remember that when you're lamenting the fact that there's a 4 mile run on your workout schedule. Run it with joy. Because you can!

Remember how scary it was to tell your kids about your diagnosis? Remember how it felt like you physically broke saying the word cancer to Anna because you knew she knew what that could mean? Remember how she hugged you that one hard night when you cried that it wasn't fair that this was happening and shared her beyond-her-years wisdom that no, it wasn't fair, but it would be OK? Remember how Henry always had a perfectly timed butt or fart joke to break the tension? Hang on to those feelings of immeasurable love and joy. Know that these kids are the best gift you've been given in life. Hang on to that tight, because puberty, it is a-comin'!

Remember how you felt like you were married to your pillow, your bed, the couch. Like you would never want to "rest" again after cancer? How many books you read - so many that you actually got TIRED OF READING (that is not even a thing!)? Remember how you longed to be busy again? Treasure those commitments that you enjoy and let go of the ones you don't. Because you now know how easy it is to put your life on pause. And the things that need to get done, will get done, either by you or someone else.

Remember the incredible joy you felt about the simplest things on your good days during treatment? How just sitting at Anna's volleyball game or Henry's jiujitsu practice made you feel like all of life was perfect? How taking the dog for a walk was the best part of your morning? How excited you were to do laundry? Stop looking for happiness in the big moments and just accept it in all the thousands of little ways it floods your life every day.

Remember how easy the "I love you's" flowed when you felt scared and vulnerable - your rawest self? Let them flow like that always. Tell your friends, every day, that you love them. Because you have some of the very best people on your side and they deserve to hear it!

Remember when you shaved your head? Lost your eyebrows? Felt like everything about your exterior was different? Appearances change. Work on holding on to the things that matter, like humor, kindness, love. Those last, even in the face of cancer.

Remember when it felt like 6 months of treatment would last forever? That you'd have a metallic taste in your mouth for the rest of time? That your body would never fully physically recover from the harsh medicine required to knock the cancer out? Well, you did it. NOW GO LIVE! Climb the mountain, hike the trail. Explore the woods. DO THE THING! Don't wait for life to deliver adventures to you. Seek them out. Go see this beautiful crazy world and meet as many people as you can. Life is too short not to.

Remember when you only had 3 chemo treatments left? 7 weeks? 49 days? Remember when it felt like maybe you could do this after all? Survive this? Not just survive, but come out the other side even better than "before"?

Remember these things - these are the things I want you to take from cancer.

P.S. Future self, do you still feel euphoric about laundry? Or no? Did that wear off already?

Who Am I?

I had the very strange experience this week of looking at a pre-cancer picture of myself and not recognizing the person in the photo as me. So much has changed - my hair, my weight, my eyebrows/eyelashes, my activities that defined my days, my energy, my outlook on so many things, my innocent belief that I'm invincible against horrible health things that only happen to "other people". In a lot of ways, I'm not the person in that photo any more. It's disorienting.

I know ultimately, I'm the same person deep down, and things will go back to normal. But I've been living in crisis mode for so many months now, that it's hard to remember which direction is up. I just want to put my life back together. I want to not feel awful any more. I want to not feel so exhausted and so incredibly lonely.

By the time this is done, I will have spent 6 months of my life dealing with cancer. That's a long pause. It's a long time of feeling not like me for a majority of that time. I'm so scared that I won't be able to get back to me. That my husband won't get his normal wife back, my kids won't get their normal mom back, that this whole experience will have changed me into someone that I don't recognize. Permanently.

I know I have only 3 chemo sessions left. But today I am mad. I'm so mad. I don't want this. I didn't ask for this. Or do anything to deserve this. My kids don't deserve to have a mom who's in so much pain and nausea that they can't even sit on the bed next to me. My husband doesn't deserve to have to act as a single parent every other week. THIS IS NOT FAIR. I HATE THIS. I JUST WANT TO BE DONE WITH CANCER. I want to be me again.

Ugh. I don't even have the energy to end this post on a positive note.

Light the Night

Tonight I'm equal parts exhausted and relieved that I seem to be through the worst of the side affects from round 8 of chemo. This round, rebounding from the steroids was extra hard and I had intense pain all over my body for about 48 hours. I am officially in a fight with dexamethasone (steroid) and I think we need to break up. Permanently. Forever.

Nine weeks from tonight I'll be getting ready for my last round of chemo. Nine weeks. I can do this. I don't want to do this. But I can do this.

I've developed psychological nausea in response to going to treatment and to receiving one of my drugs, which is bright red. My doctor offered me some extra meds to take on my way to chemo to keep me from feeling sick. I feel like I'm just taking pills upon pills upon pills. Pills to help with the side affects of pills to help with the side affects of pills. Ugh.  Guys, I USED TO BE SO BORING! I took an antidepressant. That was it. One tiny little blue pill, minimal side affects. I want to be boring again. I miss boring.

Anyway, the purpose of this post - Milwaukee's Light the Night Walk is coming up on Thursday, October 4th. I've created a team (Kerry's Cancer Crushers!) and would LOVE for you to join me at Veteran's Park that evening. I'm so excited to be surrounded by other people who have walked or are walking this same path I am. Plus there's the added bonus of raising funds for LLS - a great organization helping patients and families in my current situation.

Click HERE (best from a computer, the mobile site isn't great) to join my team, or if you are able, make a donation. If you have troubles, shoot me a message and I'll help get you signed up.

We're STILL Doing This

I'm more than halfway through chemo. And while I'm glad, I'm also a whiny brat who just wants to BE DONE NOW! I'm to the point that on my good weeks I don't feel like I'm sick beyond the usual fatigue. So it feels like torture having to turn myself in for another treatment every two weeks.

That's dramatic. It doesn't feel like torture. But it is unpleasant and something I definitely don't ever want to do again. Five more treatments. I can do this. I CAN, but I don't WANT to. Isn't that life, though?

I've gained a lot of weight through a delightful combination of steroids, stress eating and delicious desserts brought by caring friends. I'm not sorry - I love brownies. But with the absence of consistent workouts, the pounds are piling on. I know this is better than losing weight uncontrollably, which I was also doing in the beginning of this whole business. But now that I've gained back everything I lost and kept off a few years ago, I'm anxious to tackle it and get my body back into shape. Between that and my hair situation, I think my self-esteem is at an all-time low.

This is not a cry for compliments. Just where I'm at mentally in this illness/monstrosity. I know it will get better when I can start running/working out consistently again. I want to look back on this a year from now and be like, "yeah, took care of that business, let's do a triathlon!" But for now...this is what it is.

I found out from my labs this morning that my immune system, which has up to now been hanging on by a thread, is beginning to tank. It's expected. But it's also coinciding perfectly with my kids going back to school in 2.5 weeks. This has me very nervous, as a hospital stay is about the last thing I want (next only to ever seeing the doctor who did my second port surgery again). Hand sanitizer is the name of the game for the foreseeable future. SANITIZE EVERYTHING! ALL THE TIME! The kids love me...

So this is where I am now. Just very "eh" about everything. We survived the summer - today was my last treatment with my kids home on summer break. Five more and I'm done. It doesn't sound like a lot, but as I'm staring down the barrel of 5 days in bed/on the couch, it sounds insurmountable. I know I'll take it one day at a time like I always do, but, dang - CANCER IS ANNOYING. Chemo is annoying. Everything is annoying. The end.

Delightfully Normal

I have had a delightfully normal day. It's funny how quickly I go from feeling awful from the chemo to feeling back to my normal self. This round's recovery was one of the easier ones. I didn't get the emotional lows that I've had with earlier treatments. The horrible body aches I had after round 4 were much more subdued. I was able to take short walks most days. The fatigue even seems to be improving a bit.

When I woke up this morning, I was completely me again. I took the dog for a long walk before it got too hot. I did a load of laundry and ran the dish washer. I made myself an omelet for breakfast. I went to church. And I was SO HAPPY to do all of these normal things. I want to remember how grateful I feel on my good days to just be able to do what I previously did without thinking.

Somebody slap me if I ever again complain about exercising. To move and sweat and be able to breathe is so amazing! I can't believe I viewed it as a chore before cancer. I now look forward to my good weeks because I know I'll be able to exercise again.

And laundry! To be able to do my own laundry is the best. Ours is in the basement so it's a lot of trips up and down the stairs. I know it's going to be a good day if I wake up ready to tackle laundry.

I suppose my point is that all the "normal" every-day stuff I was doing without even thinking about before I got sick, in the right light, it sure looks like a huge blessing. I'm not saying I'll love doing laundry forever. But when the alternative is not being able to get out of my bed, being able to wash and fold clothes starts to look pretty good!

I hope I can hang on to that appreciation of the mundane parts of my life once I'm done with treatment. While I "know" that having a family to cook for and clean up after is a blessing, it's nice to really KNOW it. And appreciate it. And to appreciate my body and what it can do. I'm going to RUN ALL THE MILES as soon as I'm capable. Just because I can!

"No Evidence of Lymphoma"

I just received my 5th treatment out of 12 today (only 7 left, almost halfway!). I have had the best chemo dates on this "adventure" and today was no exception. My two great friends from college accompanied me this morning. We laughed the entire 3 hours. It made the treatment go by quickly and kept my energy and spirits up well into the afternoon.

I was also able to read the full results of my PET scan from last week. My two very favorite phrases of all time: "Complete response to treatment" and "no evidence of lymphoma" were prominent. (!!!!)

What this means for my remaining treatments is:

1.) We know it's working. The cancer is responding to the chemo and dying off quickly. See ya, sucker. I never wanted you here in the first place! I should be done in October, which sounds closer and closer every day!

2.) I will still have 12 total treatments to ensure that we get any roaming cancer cells and keep them from taking up residence someplace else and regrowing.

3.) This is the doozy for me - Due to the great results, they are taking me off the bleomycin which is one of the chemo drugs I was on that is known to cause pulmonary toxicity (in English, it's bad for the lungs, which I need to live).

My 4th round of chemo was my hardest physically. I had horrible body aches and swollen lymph nodes all over my body for 48 hours. I could barely move or sleep, and pain meds weren't helping. While this is a normal side affect, it was extreme and I'm praying it's not a side affect I have to experience again. However, once that abated, my energy soared! I was able to rejoin my exercise group, attend yoga, visit with friends, and get back on the mat for my first jiujitsu class in months. It was a GREAT week.

I hope to never take my energy and health for granted again. I'm so grateful on the days that I have the stamina to do these normal things. I played with my kids, cleaned my house, walked my dog, went on a date with my husband, went to church with my family. A normal day in the life, usually, but not for me lately. And getting to be normal is my favorite thing right now! Here's hoping that recovery from this treatment goes a little more smoothly than last time and that I can get back to those good days really quickly!

The Diagnosis

I've been asked many times how I found out I have Lymphoma, so here's the story. But I feel I must add a disclaimer - WebMD.com has only accurately diagnosed me with cancer ONE time.

Since January of this year, I've been sick with every illness imaginable. The flu, stomach bugs, colds, sinus infections, everything. This is unusual for me. I typically have an immune system of steel. But not this year, apparently.

Mixed in with all those illnesses, I was tired. All the time tired. Like, take a 2-hour nap every day and still go to bed at 8:30 pm tired. I blamed the fact that I had been sick off and on for months and was simultaneously very busy with life. I napped when I needed to and carried on.

Then, maybe around mid-February, early March, I started waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. It wasn't just once or twice due to monthly hormone changes. It was every night, without fail. I'd wake up completely soaked. I was changing the sheets constantly. But again, didn't put it together with the fatigue, just figured I had some sort of hormonal thing going on, or maybe it was related to another new illness that was hitting me. I'd deal with it at my next annual physical.

Also around this time, I'd start feeling light-headed whenever I exercised. I stopped running because of it. Then, mid-March, the light-headed feelings started happening whenever I was on my feet for too long. Again, I figured it was related to lingering congestion/illness.

For spring break I took the kids up to visit my mom in Minnesota. I was wiped. I spent most of that visit resting on her couch or napping while she took the kids out in the snow to play.

One afternoon, after wrestling on the floor with the kids, I tweaked a muscle in my neck. While I was massaging it, I found a quarter-sized lump in the left side of my neck. I was almost certain it was a lymph node. And between that and the fatigue, I was almost certain I had mono.

Like any tech-savvy hypochondriac, I hit WebMD to check my symptoms. Mono WAS one of the options. But, oh "ha ha ha" so was lymphoma. "Hey, mom, ha-ha-ha all these symptoms say I have lymphoma. But it's totally mono." It was not totally mono.

The next Monday, I called my doctor's office, figuring I'd better at least get it checked out. They wanted me in right away. Andy had left that morning for a work trip, so I was on my own at the doctor's. But big deal, it was just mono, right?

My doctor is awesome at listening and normalizing feelings while remaining very rational. He said that my symptoms were mildly concerning, but that we'd just get it all checked out so I could rest easy. He sent me for blood work and a chest x-ray. Within 15 minutes of having the x-ray, my doctor sat me down and told me he wanted me to go immediately to the hospital and get a CT scan because there were "some concerning spots" on my lungs and they wanted to rule out lymphoma. THIS IS NOT HOW YOU DIAGNOSE MONO, was what I kept thinking.

At this point, I texted my mom and she began driving from the Twin Cities. I texted Andy and he began making arrangements to return immediately from his business trip. Then I went and had the CT scan done. I was also contacted by a surgeon to schedule a biopsy of the swollen lymph node.

You know those dreams where you're trying to run but either you feel like you're underwater or your feet are stuck in really gooey mud? Or you got on a train that you're not supposed to be on, but it just won't stop speeding down the tracks so you can get off? Or some horrible combination of all that? I felt like that for a solid week. Waiting for results, meeting the surgeon, going in for my first ever surgery, recovering from that surgery. Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting....

And then the call came while I was in the library at school. Thankfully, I was able to step out and speak with the doctor. The CT scan showed a mass on my right lung and several other areas of concern. The biopsy confirmed Nodular Sclerosing Hodgkin's Lyphoma. I was being referred to an Oncologist. I was going to need chemo. My surgeon would see me again the following week to install a port. Did I have any questions? (Yes, how the hell do I get off this train?!)

Within two weeks, I started chemo. Four weeks after that, I had a second (unexpected and truly horrific) port surgery to replace the first port that wasn't functioning properly. And now, three weeks beyond THAT, I'm preparing for my fourth chemo treatment, which will put me at 1/3 of the way through treatment. It's going so fast in the most excruciatingly slow way (if that makes any sense).

Looking back at how quickly everything moved from that first doctor's visit to where we are now, it makes sense to me why I'm starting to struggle a little bit mentally with this situation. I didn't have time to really think about any of that. I just showed up for all my tests and appointments and procedures like I was told to. I was so happy and relieved to have a few good days mixed in with the bad, that I thought I could breeze through this, no problem!

As I'm settling into a routine of treatment, and the "newness" and "scariness" of this has worn off a bit, I've had time to process. Cancer sucks. There's a reason that's a slogan on t-shirts and buttons. There's even a website! My entire family is impacted by this illness, in some ways I don't even fully know yet. I'm completely sidelined from my life for now. I have no control over so many things that it's kicking up the depression that I was already medicated for before all this began.

It has also brought so many very good things that I can't neglect to mention. My family is very close through this. I love knowing that I can rely on them when I need to. I've rediscovered what I already knew - that my friends near and far are amazing and caring people who will do anything to support the people they love. Other survivors are incredible at reaching out and helping a newbie through the emotional roller coaster of diagnosis and treatment - and one solid lady in particular lets me text her late into the night about my worries and questions (Lauren, you are A WONDERFUL blessing and friend through this. THANK YOU!). Though I may feel alone, I'm really not. Help, support, laughter, a shoulder to cry on, a meal for my family, a friend for my kids , even walks for my dog- it's all just a phone call or text message away. I can't fully explain how good that makes me feel.

While I still feel cancer is stupid (I don't think I'll ever not feel that way!), I'm thankful for the blessings of family and friendship that have been strengthened because of it.

How to Fight Cancer

Fighting cancer. Cancer warrior. Survivor.

All terms I've heard in relation to cancer treatment. All terms I've used at one point or another. Now, terms I'm unfortunately familiar with. I know a few friends who are also intimately familiar with what it means to fight cancer, but for those who haven't climbed this mountain, do you know what it means to "fight" cancer?

It means being exhausted down to my bones. I am tired all the time. I go to bed tired. I wake up tired. I nap every day. I'm so tired that I can't even sleep (yeah, noodle on that one for a while). I'm just TIRED. Between the cancer and the chemo, I'm wiped out. And I have no energy for anything. A trip to the grocery store equals a two hour nap. This is beyond frustrating as I used to enjoy being a very busy person. Resting seems like a ridiculous way to fight, but that is battle strategy numero uno these days.

Fighting cancer means I have no control over anything except my own thoughts. Want to cut my body? Sure, I can't stop you. Need to pump me full of poison to blast the cancer out of me? Sounds like a great time, be my guest. Want to take all my hair, my endurance, my free time, my volunteer work, my plans and flush them all down the toilet - have at it. The only thing I can control in this whole stupid experience is how I think about these things that keep happening to me, whether I want them to or not. Most days the power of positive thinking wins out. But sometimes, my thoughts spiral to a dark place that involves googling statistics that I've now pinky-promised 3 important people not to google ever again. I actively have to keep my thoughts on the right track or it gets real ugly, real fast.

Every great warrior needs a side kick. And I've found mine for this battle. She is the counselor who works at my cancer treatment center. And she is AMAZING. She is a survivor herself so she gets it. She understands the challenge of going through this process with young kids. She knows the middle-of-the-night sleepless temptation to google things you shouldn't. She knows that the loss of control over nearly everything is like getting pounded over and over by huge, unrelenting ocean waves. She gets it. and she makes me feel normal in all of this.

Like many locked in battle, I have family and friends on the sidelines who are hurting and worried too. And though I'm the only one that can fight this fight, they feel my challenges and my pain deeply. It's hard watching your kids be stressed about bringing any germs into the house. It's physically painful hearing your 6 year old frantically tell his friend to wash her hands so his mom doesn't get more sick and die. It's hard to cry to my husband about how much this sucks and see how helpless he feels to take any of it away for me. And I keep saying how thankful I am that it's me who is sick and not either of my kids - but I am someone's kid, and she is scared and stressed and doesn't deserve to watch her child go through this either.

It's still just cancer. I'm still pushing through this with a big smile on my bald head. But I am further exhausted by all this talk of fighting. I'm not brave or strong. I'm not an actual warrior. If anything, I'm desperate. Desperate to get my life back to normal. Desperate for my kids to know that I'm not going anywhere. Desperate for this to not be my ENTIRE LIFE any more. Ugh.

In closing, cancer is stupid. Having cancer is stupid. Everything is stupid. I need a nap.

To Shave or Not to Shave

The great exodus has begun. My hair is fleeing my head in unimaginable quantities. My shower drain and bathroom sink look like a Wookiee bathes here.  When I rolled my car window down earlier this week, I could see strands of hair blowing out the window the entire drive. I snorted a strand up my nose when I laughed this afternoon. It's funny and troubling at the same time.

I'm okay with being bald, in theory. I'm fine with donning scarves and rocking hats for the summer. What I'm struggling with is that right now, when I go out on my good days, the whole world doesn't know I'm sick. I feel like when my hair is gone, I'll have a giant neon sign over my head blaring "cancer patient".

I've tried to come up with ways to make this fun. Anna and Henry will be my barbers when the time comes. Anna is unbelievably (freakishly) excited about this. Reflecting on her bedside manner as a toddler doctor, this was maybe not my best plan of action! I've bought myself some fun scarves to wear and found some different ways to tie them on YouTube. We're planning to draw Voldemort's face on the back of my head, wrapped under a purple turban a-la-Quirrell from the first Harry Potter (NERD POWER!). But now that the time is getting close, I'm a lot less excited than I hoped I would be.

It seems like cancer has very quickly stripped a lot of things I love from my life. I had to give up my volunteer work at school, teaching Sunday school at church, running and Jiu-jitsu, working in the library, often even existing outside of my bed. And now my appearance is going to change and it's one more thing that I have no control over.

One of the prayers in our church service this morning included a line about facing challenges with patience as God works His will in our lives. Heard that one, God! I'm trying! I'm trying to remember this is a temporary situation. That in a few months I won't have to go for chemo any more. That my hair will grow back. That I can rejoin my workout groups and rebuild my running. I'm not giving up any of these things forever.

But, man, I feel like Squirt the turtle in Finding Nemo when he jumps out of the East Australian Current. I can see all of life still speeding past me while I'm just sitting there, still, in the water. And it is SO FRUSTRATING.

And now I'm going to be bald like Squirt the turtle too?! Aaarggghhh! I don't want this! But I have it. So...

Whether I want it or not, my hair is falling out. And shaving is imminent. I think it needs to happen soon. Every meal I cooked this weekend had my hairs in it (as did the custard I dished up for my kids as a snack this afternoon). It's everywhere. Help me decide - when am I shaving this rapidly shedding mop of mine?

Revising My Goals for 2018

Every year on New Year's Eve, it's tradition that I set goals for myself for the year ahead. My goals for 2018 were:

*Run 360 Miles
*Bike 500 Miles
*Swim a whole bunch of yards
*Visit 3 National Parks
*Read 55 books

Needless to say, the athletic goals have taken a major back seat, as breathing is not currently my strongest skill. Working on that! But that doesn't mean I can't readjust and still set some goals for myself to work toward while I'm kicking cancer to the curb!

*Learn to knit a sock - this is proving challenging. I may add a second sock if I can ever get the first one to turn out.
*Read 65 books - Thanks to many, many sick days and hours of waiting at doctor appointments I'm already finished with 27 books for this year. I think 65 is an achievable challenge.
*Use my downtime to connect with and encourage others - I have so much time to check in with friends, and I want to use that to my fullest ability. I love keeping in touch with people, so this will be a good one for me.
*Make memories with my kids - My mobility may be more limited, but I can still do things like teach Anna how to sew and color with Henry. We can comb the back yard for bugs and fill the kiddie pool for Ginny to splash in. There are plenty of adventures to be had this summer, and I plan to enjoy them!

I don't like having to give up my original plans for this year. Plans to be outside and active, traveling, moving far beyond the reaches of my couch and bed. But I'm starting to see the value in putting that off and focusing on the things I can do while I recover. It's OK to move things around, to take a step back from the busy-ness of my life, which I love, to focus on getting better. And I can still have fun and achieve things while I rest!

It's Just Cancer!

I haven't blogged in 3 years. I used to write up all my funny kid stories here, but when my kids started getting old enough to read, I felt weird sharing their stories. Now I'm going to use this space as a way to keep track of an entirely different adventure. And yes, I'm looking at it as an adventure. Not always pleasant, but certainly still an adventure.

I have Nodular Sclerosing Hodgkin's Lymphoma. What on earth possessed my body to go and get cancer? I have no idea. But here we are. I was diagnosed about 3 weeks ago and life has been a bit of a whirlwind since then. I've had 1 round of chemo, 2 surgeries, 2 chest x-rays, 2 CT scans, a PET scan, an echocardiogram, a pulmonary function test, 2 visits to the ER for breathing issues and countless blood tests since then. I've googled more versions of "symptoms of lymphoma" and "tips to survive chemo" and "recurrence rates of Hodgkin's Lymphoma" than I can count. I've been terrified, numb, angry, sad, hopeful, and happier than I ever thought I could be in a situation like this. I'm a future cancer survivor, a current cancer warrior.

During my second visit to the ER for some difficulty breathing and strange heart rhythms (looking back, I'm almost certain it was a panic attack), the doctor on call had a look at all my tests and came back to the room to tell me, "Good news - It's just cancer!" Betcha don't get to say that often, do ya?! They were concerned about blood clots on my lungs, but, no. It was just that pesky cancer, nothing more serious (!!). But I kind of love that statement. It's just cancer. It's not a death sentence (for me, it's curable, which I am unspeakably grateful for!). It's just a temporary part of life that's going to show me how many amazing people God has surrounding me. Have you ever had hundreds of people praying for you? It's a feeling I can't describe. It would be impossible for me to sink with this many people keeping me afloat.

The kids are doing well with everything. I think they are feeling big things that are coming out in different ways - moodiness, clingy-ness. But it's all understandable. We are being very open with them and making family time a priority now more than ever. I actually feel like things with our family are really, really good right now. (And if you have to endure a crisis, Andy is the man you want by your side, let me tell you!)

I had my first round of chemo a week and a half ago. the actual receiving of the chemo drugs is kind of a relaxing experience. My port is a GODSEND - IVs in my arms make me really woozy. I can't stand to look at them or feel the pulling of the tubing. BLECH! With the port, I get one stick for the whole visit. Then I sit in the recliner for hours with my fluffy socks and fuzzy blanket, sipping ice water and reading whatever my little heart desires. (I am going to blow my reading goal out of the water this year!). Thanks to a regimen of steroids (evil bastards) and anti-nausea meds, I don't feel much of anything for a day or 2 after chemo. Just an icky taste in my mouth and some fatigue. But days 3-5 are rough as I come down off the steroids. Then I get an entire week of feeling pretty close to normal before I do it again.

I'm going to sound ridiculous. But I GET A WHOLE WEEK OF FEELING SEMI-NORMAL!!! I really thought I was going to spend the next 6 months feeling nauseous, huddled on my couch. But I can still have a life in between treatments! I can still be with my kids and play with my dog and cook and go to church and have friends over to visit, and, and, and... The amount of happiness I feel about this is crazy.

I'd like to use this blog to keep everyone updated on how things are going with my treatment. I will have 12 total rounds of chemo (1 down already!), every other Friday. Round 2 is at the end of this week. I love hearing from people, so please don't hesitate to email or text or call! I silence my phone if I'm sleeping, but I'll respond when I can. I'm really excited to kick this in the butt and get back to normal life.

After all, it's just cancer. :)