My baby girl, Kelsey, just graduated from Western Michigan University. Her degree is in Interdisciplinary Health Services with her minor in Psychology. I am SO proud of her. She even graduated Magna Cum Laude!
We celebrated her day by watching her "walk" in the ceremony at Miller Auditorium and then we all went to dinner together. It was a great day.
Here are some pictures from her graduation day.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
What a year it's been since my last post....
So much has happened.
I don't know where to start, so I'll just start at the beginning.
In January of 2010, my fiance and boyfriend of 9 years, Dave Danville went in for surgery. Everything seemed so routine. There was nothing that gave us any indication that less than a week later he would no longer be alive. After his surgery, Dave contracted a bacterial infection that went undetected. He quickly went into septic shock and his body started shutting down. I was devastated, in a shock of my own and about to begin about the worst year imaginable. If it wasn't for trusting God, I don't know how I would've gotten through it. I really don't.
Getting through Dave's death was difficult. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced. I will to this day, never understand how death is so difficult to deal with. It is something so natural and so much a part of life, but so unlike all of life's other milestones. What an emotional roller coaster.
Throughout all of this rough ride, I still felt God was working in my life. Our church was planning a water baptism in May and I decided to finally "do it". I had always wanted to, but I was too embarrassed to walk across the platform in front of others showing off my "big legs". I decided that I had to put my vanity aside and although I was going to be extremely uncomfortable, I had to do it. I don't know why, but I felt drawn to it. This was the 2nd time I've ever felt God speaking to me. I just KNEW this was what I was supposed to do. I followed through and was baptized. It felt great. I loved not letting Satan win this time.
After dealing for months with Dave's estate drama and being hurt by one of his closest cousins (someone I considered family), I was feeling emotionally stressed, physically tired and just plain worn out. I plugged through each day the best I could, but I didn't feel up to par. I'd been fighting some asthma trouble and the medication they gave me for it was kicking my butt. I felt like they were tearing up my stomach. I couldn't eat anything without feeling really bad heartburn and feeling like the food would get "stuck" before I felt some relief. Little did I know that this was a sign that life was about to get more interesting. I guess God wasn't through with his plans for me.
I had just returned home from visiting Dave's mom for Mother's Day and I was exhausted. I fell asleep like a rock but unexpectedly woke up mid-sleep to some stabbing stomach pains. I thought for sure I was having a gall bladder attack. The pain was really, really bad. I actually got up and got dressed thinking that I should drive myself to the E.R.. I decided to wait it out and see if the paid would go away on its own. I laid back down and by the time I had to get ready for work, the pain was tolerable, so I went to work.
I had experienced a pain like this almost a year earlier when I was traveling for work. At that time, my doctor told me it was probably my gall bladder. I talked to my "gall-bladder-experienced" friends (says something about my age just in the fact that I have friends like this) and they said that the attacks would just keep re-occurring until I did something about it. This 2nd attack made me think they were right. I decided that I didn't want to deal with pain like this on a re-occurring basis, so I decided to have it checked out.
I got in to see the doctor after work that Monday. My doctor suggested having an ultrasound to determine if there was a stone blocking the bile duct. It was scheduled for two days later, on Wednesday. She sent me home with a prescription for pain meds, but I didn't even fill it. The pain had gone away by then and I didn't expect it to come back for months or if my gall bladder was gone, it would never come back.
During the ultrasound, they saw something abnormal. They didn't see a stone, but my pancreatic duct was dilated. Apparently, that was super abnormal for someone my age. My tech called a second tech to come out and give his opinion. He saw the same thing. They sent me home telling me that the results would be sent to my doctor. The next day my doctor called and said that they recommended that I get a CT scan to see things more clearly.
On Thursday I had a CT scan. I still felt fine. No more pain, nothing....except I had noticed a tiny little bit of yellowing in the whites of my eyes. Hmmm? So, I spent some time researching "abdominal pain, dilated ducts & jaundice" online. I wondered which one of the online scenarios would end up being similar to my diagnosis. Some of them weren't very good.
The next day in the afternoon I got a call from my doctor with the results of the CT scan. She explained that they had found a mass on the head of my pancreas and she thought that I needed to "go to the Emergency Room as soon as I could". I didn't understand the urgency...after all, I still felt fine.
In the E.R. they discovered that my blood work showed that my levels were "all out of whack". That, coupled with my jaundice, prompted them to admit me. Throughout the two days I was there, multiple surgeons and specialists visited me. They poked, tested, and questioned me. In the end they all agreed that there was an almost 100% chance that I had Pancreatic Cancer. In any case, having a pancreatic mass that was causing blockage of a duct (whether it was malignant or not) meant I needed to have a "Whipple Procedure" to remove the mass. I learned that a Whipple Procedure is a delicate & complicated surgery. They recommended that I go to a specialty hospital for it. Some place that dealt with many cases. So, that meant more research.
I got online and searched for things like "pancreatic cancer, duct blockage, Whipple Procedure, pancreatic mass, top rated cancer hospitals" and through it all, everything seemed surreal. I still couldn't believe that I was sick. I felt a little tired, but I'd felt that way since Dave died. I thought it was just my body trying to recover from grief. In my spare time, I researched hospitals and I finally decided to go to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. It was a place that my parents and I could drive to (in a hurry, if need be) that was important because my dad won't fly. I also felt comfortable about it because I had been there once before, albeit when I was 4 years old. My dad said "they saved you once, they can do it again". This sealed the decision. Now, I had to wait to find out when Mayo would be able to see me.
I went back to work while waiting for a call from my doctor. Daily, I had to listen to comments about how yellow I was looking. At the same time, I was starting to get itchy; really, really itchy. It was difficult to hide. I didn't know why my skin itched so much. Come to find out (thanks internet) the itching was a side effect of being jaundiced. I didn't like it, but now I at least understood why.
I started becoming self-conscious of my new skin color so I avoided people that didn't know about my condition. When I had to take my dogs to the vet that week, I wore sunglasses the whole time so that the vet wouldn't see my eyes. I tried topical Benadryl for the itching, but it only helped a little. I was pretty much stuck with being yellow and itchy. Good thing I didn't feel too bad.
My two best friends decided that we should go somewhere for a "girls get-away" while we had the chance. They thought that I needed a break from all the "Dave's stuff", the doctors etc.. and that I should do something fun before I had to go to Mayo. I agreed. We started planning to do something the following weekend. We'd have an extra day because it was Memorial day weekend. I was looking forward to it. By the weekend, we still hadn't decided exactly what we were going to do. We decided to just "wing it". So on Saturday, one friend called me to find out what time we would be heading out, I told her that I hadn't talked to Robyn yet and that I wasn't packed either. I was embarrassed because she had woken me from a nap. A nap that had been hours long without me realizing it. She said I sounded funny and I told her I was just not awake yet. She drove over and saw that I looked even worse than I sounded. I guess that's when I realized that I was starting to feel a little weaker too. I called my doctor and again, it was suggested that I should go in to the E.R.. Boy, didn't expect Bronson Hospital to be the destination of our "girls get-away weekend".
So, without packing for our trip, we were headed for the hospital. By the time Robyn showed up, they had us sitting in one of the E.R. hallways. We talked for hours...I was tired and so were they. It was a long night. Finally, they admitted me.
By morning, I was feeling better. They had been giving me meds for my itching and that was such a relief. I just felt sleepy. I still didn't feel like I was sick though, just tired. I felt guilty when the nurses waited on me. When I mentioned to one of my nurses that I felt guilty having them wait on me, she said "You shouldn't. You're probably sicker than most of the people in here". That comment was unexpected and it bore into my brain. Was that true? It was the first time that I started to realize that something was really wrong with me. Up until then, I felt like I was just going through the motions of an agenda that others were dictating for me. After all, how could I be sick? I still felt fine....but I wasn't.
It took two weeks, two doctors attempts and two hospital stays before I was able to get accepted into Mayo, but once I got "the" call from them, things starting rolling fast....I mean really fast. We heard from them at 4:30 pm on Memorial Day and they wanted me to be there by 6:30 am the following morning. Yikes! I didn't even know how long it would take to get there. Did I have time to drive or would I have to fly? Could we drive? How long would it take to get there? Oh my...so much to figure out in my Benadryl-foggy brain.
Robyn and Andrea were both with me when I got the news. I needed to move fast. I still had to go home, pack, make arrangements for my dogs, the house etc. and let my kids know where I was going to be I got online and looked for flights. It was too late in the day to get any flights. When I realized that I was going to have to drive there, my two best friends came to my rescue. Robyn offered to drive. Andrea offered to ride along so that Robyn wouldn't have to come back by herself. We finally had a plan for our "girls get-away".
At about 6:30 pm that evening, I hit the road with my two best friends. We loaded up Robyn's trusty van and headed for Minnesota. We drove through the night to get there and it was exhausting. By this time, my body had begun to show some signs of the disease. I couldn't believe how much I had changed in just the past week. I was now uncomfortable, getting weaker and I was as yellow as a school bus. I looked SO weird! Getting a glimpse of myself in a mirror surprised me every time. I didn't look like myself. I felt bad because I thought I was making people feel uncomfortable by my yellow looks. I was glad that something was finally going to be done about it.
The day we arrived, Mayo had me in outpatient surgery by 9:00 that morning. They put in a stint and did a biopsy. I had a CT scan, more blood work and I was interviewed by many doctors. They were pretty certain about my diagnosis and they scheduled me to meet with a surgeon later in the day. This was moving fast, but still seemed surreal. Less than 24 hours ago we were wondering what was ahead, but here we were... in another state, super tired, trying to find a hotel room, wanting to sleep, waiting for my parents to show up and me, still yellow.
My parents got there in time to go with me to meet my surgeon. He gave us the confirmation that my parents feared. He told us that I did in fact have cancer. It was then that it all became real. I felt so bad for them. I'm pretty sure they took it much harder than I did. I don't know why, but it didn't seem so bad from my perspective. I guess I didn't feel it would do me any good to deny or try to fight it. I didn't have a choice. I just needed to continue through the motions and deal with it. I trusted the doctors, but more importantly, I trusted God. I wasn't worried at all.....the whole thing seemed as weird as I looked.
My surgery took place the following morning. It went well and the doctors claimed that they had "gotten it all". They were extremely happy that my lymph nodes and margins were clear. So was I, I guess. I didn't really know what that meant until I did more online research. I then realized how very lucky I really was. No wonder why my doctors were happy. This type of cancer isn't usually discovered until it is quite advanced. That also is why it typically has single-digit 5 year survival statistics. My cancer was in stage I. Catching it that early is almost unheard of. That prompted them to tell me that I have a good chance of being one of the survivors. As unreal as it seems, I did feel lucky. No, that is when I realized that I wasn't just lucky, I was blessed.
Two doctors came in to fill me in on what the rest of my agenda looked like. They suggested that I have both chemo and radiation in addition to the surgery. I didn't like that message at all! Up until that moment, I was willing to go along with their agenda. But when I got that message, I dug in my heels. I didn't like their new plan. Didn't they say that they had gotten all of the cancer? Didn't they say that my lymph nodes were clear? Heck, what were they even going to radiate? They had already taken out everything that was diseased. Right? No, I didn't understand or like this plan at all. It was really hard for me to accept. For some reason, I dealt WAY better with the cancer diagnosis than I did with this recommended treatment for me. I still don't know why.
Maybe it was because all of this happened in the midst of trying to orchestrate my daughter's wedding. I didn't think I could have the hiccup of dealing with chemo and the likes. My daughter and her fiance were planning on an August 7th wedding and I didn't want to be the reason it wouldn't happen, or the reason why it wouldn't happen the way they envisioned it. I was determined to be feeling better by her wedding date and to pull off a nice wedding for her.
I finally agreed to do the recommended treatments, but only after the doctors agreed to let me wait until after the wedding to start my chemo....what a relief! Time flew by, the wedding was really, really nice and a few days later, I started my next roller coaster ride of the year. My treatment arrangement was called a "sandwich". It consisted of 6 weeks of chemo in Kalamazoo, then back to Mayo for 6 weeks of radiation, followed by 6 more weeks of chemo back in Kalamazoo. Oh what a lovely, yummy sounding sandwich....not!
All I can say is, I am so blessed to have great family and friends. They helped me so much. Not only did they help with the actual wedding planning and duties, they gave me the strength and support that I needed throughout my recovery. They made me feel loved & cared about and I was truly blessed to have been the recipient of so many prayers. I believe that the prayers made the biggest difference in all of this and no one will change my mind about that.
I finished my final treatment in February of this year (2011) and I couldn't have been happier than the day I was done. No, I didn't lose my hair, but I lost so much of what I had always taken for granted. My stamina, my memory, my strength. I was anemic, and not carrying enough oxygen. I was achy all-over and tired. My blood pressure went "stroke high" and it took weeks to get it regulated. Little by little though, things are getting back to normal. I'm getting better all of the time. I feel so blessed. Now that the "sandwich" is in my rear-view mirror, I'm glad I went through it for the extra punch it would give "the big C".
Cancer is a bad thing but it brings a lot of good. Good people most of all.
I did my best to keep working though as much of the treatment as I could. It gave me some sense of normalcy and it helped me prioritize what was really important in my life. My company and co-workers were unbelievably understanding and supportive. I will forever be grateful to them. My son was another one of my blessings from God. He was so helpful by taking care of my dogs and the house. Those were things that I was worried about and he handled it all.
Throughout this difficult time, I had the opportunity to get to know a great, great guy. He's someone that I've known for 12 years as a co-worker, but I didn't know him well. We have a lot in common and had occasionally enjoyed lively conversations together. But up until this time, that was it. Lucky for me, he is a thoughtful and empathetic person. He made an effort to keep in touch with me throughout this cancer "journey". He was encouraging and understanding, but most of all he made me feel normal. I can't tell you how important feeling normal was. It made me feel good when he complimented me on my determination to keep up with things. I think I sometimes pushed myself harder and kept going because of his encouragement. It would've been easy to give in, but it felt good to be admired for "plugging along" as best I could. He made me feel like the effort was worthwhile. Little by little his friendship has turned into something that means a lot to me. A relationship wasn't anything I was looking for, but it found me. I believe he must be part of God's plan. Life is good.
Well, now you're caught up with where I am in my journey. We'll both have to wait to see where the rest of this year is going to take me. Stay posted.
Hugs to you all....
I don't know where to start, so I'll just start at the beginning.
In January of 2010, my fiance and boyfriend of 9 years, Dave Danville went in for surgery. Everything seemed so routine. There was nothing that gave us any indication that less than a week later he would no longer be alive. After his surgery, Dave contracted a bacterial infection that went undetected. He quickly went into septic shock and his body started shutting down. I was devastated, in a shock of my own and about to begin about the worst year imaginable. If it wasn't for trusting God, I don't know how I would've gotten through it. I really don't.
Getting through Dave's death was difficult. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced. I will to this day, never understand how death is so difficult to deal with. It is something so natural and so much a part of life, but so unlike all of life's other milestones. What an emotional roller coaster.
Throughout all of this rough ride, I still felt God was working in my life. Our church was planning a water baptism in May and I decided to finally "do it". I had always wanted to, but I was too embarrassed to walk across the platform in front of others showing off my "big legs". I decided that I had to put my vanity aside and although I was going to be extremely uncomfortable, I had to do it. I don't know why, but I felt drawn to it. This was the 2nd time I've ever felt God speaking to me. I just KNEW this was what I was supposed to do. I followed through and was baptized. It felt great. I loved not letting Satan win this time.
After dealing for months with Dave's estate drama and being hurt by one of his closest cousins (someone I considered family), I was feeling emotionally stressed, physically tired and just plain worn out. I plugged through each day the best I could, but I didn't feel up to par. I'd been fighting some asthma trouble and the medication they gave me for it was kicking my butt. I felt like they were tearing up my stomach. I couldn't eat anything without feeling really bad heartburn and feeling like the food would get "stuck" before I felt some relief. Little did I know that this was a sign that life was about to get more interesting. I guess God wasn't through with his plans for me.
I had just returned home from visiting Dave's mom for Mother's Day and I was exhausted. I fell asleep like a rock but unexpectedly woke up mid-sleep to some stabbing stomach pains. I thought for sure I was having a gall bladder attack. The pain was really, really bad. I actually got up and got dressed thinking that I should drive myself to the E.R.. I decided to wait it out and see if the paid would go away on its own. I laid back down and by the time I had to get ready for work, the pain was tolerable, so I went to work.
I had experienced a pain like this almost a year earlier when I was traveling for work. At that time, my doctor told me it was probably my gall bladder. I talked to my "gall-bladder-experienced" friends (says something about my age just in the fact that I have friends like this) and they said that the attacks would just keep re-occurring until I did something about it. This 2nd attack made me think they were right. I decided that I didn't want to deal with pain like this on a re-occurring basis, so I decided to have it checked out.
I got in to see the doctor after work that Monday. My doctor suggested having an ultrasound to determine if there was a stone blocking the bile duct. It was scheduled for two days later, on Wednesday. She sent me home with a prescription for pain meds, but I didn't even fill it. The pain had gone away by then and I didn't expect it to come back for months or if my gall bladder was gone, it would never come back.
During the ultrasound, they saw something abnormal. They didn't see a stone, but my pancreatic duct was dilated. Apparently, that was super abnormal for someone my age. My tech called a second tech to come out and give his opinion. He saw the same thing. They sent me home telling me that the results would be sent to my doctor. The next day my doctor called and said that they recommended that I get a CT scan to see things more clearly.
On Thursday I had a CT scan. I still felt fine. No more pain, nothing....except I had noticed a tiny little bit of yellowing in the whites of my eyes. Hmmm? So, I spent some time researching "abdominal pain, dilated ducts & jaundice" online. I wondered which one of the online scenarios would end up being similar to my diagnosis. Some of them weren't very good.
The next day in the afternoon I got a call from my doctor with the results of the CT scan. She explained that they had found a mass on the head of my pancreas and she thought that I needed to "go to the Emergency Room as soon as I could". I didn't understand the urgency...after all, I still felt fine.
In the E.R. they discovered that my blood work showed that my levels were "all out of whack". That, coupled with my jaundice, prompted them to admit me. Throughout the two days I was there, multiple surgeons and specialists visited me. They poked, tested, and questioned me. In the end they all agreed that there was an almost 100% chance that I had Pancreatic Cancer. In any case, having a pancreatic mass that was causing blockage of a duct (whether it was malignant or not) meant I needed to have a "Whipple Procedure" to remove the mass. I learned that a Whipple Procedure is a delicate & complicated surgery. They recommended that I go to a specialty hospital for it. Some place that dealt with many cases. So, that meant more research.
I got online and searched for things like "pancreatic cancer, duct blockage, Whipple Procedure, pancreatic mass, top rated cancer hospitals" and through it all, everything seemed surreal. I still couldn't believe that I was sick. I felt a little tired, but I'd felt that way since Dave died. I thought it was just my body trying to recover from grief. In my spare time, I researched hospitals and I finally decided to go to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. It was a place that my parents and I could drive to (in a hurry, if need be) that was important because my dad won't fly. I also felt comfortable about it because I had been there once before, albeit when I was 4 years old. My dad said "they saved you once, they can do it again". This sealed the decision. Now, I had to wait to find out when Mayo would be able to see me.
I went back to work while waiting for a call from my doctor. Daily, I had to listen to comments about how yellow I was looking. At the same time, I was starting to get itchy; really, really itchy. It was difficult to hide. I didn't know why my skin itched so much. Come to find out (thanks internet) the itching was a side effect of being jaundiced. I didn't like it, but now I at least understood why.
I started becoming self-conscious of my new skin color so I avoided people that didn't know about my condition. When I had to take my dogs to the vet that week, I wore sunglasses the whole time so that the vet wouldn't see my eyes. I tried topical Benadryl for the itching, but it only helped a little. I was pretty much stuck with being yellow and itchy. Good thing I didn't feel too bad.
My two best friends decided that we should go somewhere for a "girls get-away" while we had the chance. They thought that I needed a break from all the "Dave's stuff", the doctors etc.. and that I should do something fun before I had to go to Mayo. I agreed. We started planning to do something the following weekend. We'd have an extra day because it was Memorial day weekend. I was looking forward to it. By the weekend, we still hadn't decided exactly what we were going to do. We decided to just "wing it". So on Saturday, one friend called me to find out what time we would be heading out, I told her that I hadn't talked to Robyn yet and that I wasn't packed either. I was embarrassed because she had woken me from a nap. A nap that had been hours long without me realizing it. She said I sounded funny and I told her I was just not awake yet. She drove over and saw that I looked even worse than I sounded. I guess that's when I realized that I was starting to feel a little weaker too. I called my doctor and again, it was suggested that I should go in to the E.R.. Boy, didn't expect Bronson Hospital to be the destination of our "girls get-away weekend".
So, without packing for our trip, we were headed for the hospital. By the time Robyn showed up, they had us sitting in one of the E.R. hallways. We talked for hours...I was tired and so were they. It was a long night. Finally, they admitted me.
By morning, I was feeling better. They had been giving me meds for my itching and that was such a relief. I just felt sleepy. I still didn't feel like I was sick though, just tired. I felt guilty when the nurses waited on me. When I mentioned to one of my nurses that I felt guilty having them wait on me, she said "You shouldn't. You're probably sicker than most of the people in here". That comment was unexpected and it bore into my brain. Was that true? It was the first time that I started to realize that something was really wrong with me. Up until then, I felt like I was just going through the motions of an agenda that others were dictating for me. After all, how could I be sick? I still felt fine....but I wasn't.
It took two weeks, two doctors attempts and two hospital stays before I was able to get accepted into Mayo, but once I got "the" call from them, things starting rolling fast....I mean really fast. We heard from them at 4:30 pm on Memorial Day and they wanted me to be there by 6:30 am the following morning. Yikes! I didn't even know how long it would take to get there. Did I have time to drive or would I have to fly? Could we drive? How long would it take to get there? Oh my...so much to figure out in my Benadryl-foggy brain.
Robyn and Andrea were both with me when I got the news. I needed to move fast. I still had to go home, pack, make arrangements for my dogs, the house etc. and let my kids know where I was going to be I got online and looked for flights. It was too late in the day to get any flights. When I realized that I was going to have to drive there, my two best friends came to my rescue. Robyn offered to drive. Andrea offered to ride along so that Robyn wouldn't have to come back by herself. We finally had a plan for our "girls get-away".
At about 6:30 pm that evening, I hit the road with my two best friends. We loaded up Robyn's trusty van and headed for Minnesota. We drove through the night to get there and it was exhausting. By this time, my body had begun to show some signs of the disease. I couldn't believe how much I had changed in just the past week. I was now uncomfortable, getting weaker and I was as yellow as a school bus. I looked SO weird! Getting a glimpse of myself in a mirror surprised me every time. I didn't look like myself. I felt bad because I thought I was making people feel uncomfortable by my yellow looks. I was glad that something was finally going to be done about it.
The day we arrived, Mayo had me in outpatient surgery by 9:00 that morning. They put in a stint and did a biopsy. I had a CT scan, more blood work and I was interviewed by many doctors. They were pretty certain about my diagnosis and they scheduled me to meet with a surgeon later in the day. This was moving fast, but still seemed surreal. Less than 24 hours ago we were wondering what was ahead, but here we were... in another state, super tired, trying to find a hotel room, wanting to sleep, waiting for my parents to show up and me, still yellow.
My parents got there in time to go with me to meet my surgeon. He gave us the confirmation that my parents feared. He told us that I did in fact have cancer. It was then that it all became real. I felt so bad for them. I'm pretty sure they took it much harder than I did. I don't know why, but it didn't seem so bad from my perspective. I guess I didn't feel it would do me any good to deny or try to fight it. I didn't have a choice. I just needed to continue through the motions and deal with it. I trusted the doctors, but more importantly, I trusted God. I wasn't worried at all.....the whole thing seemed as weird as I looked.
My surgery took place the following morning. It went well and the doctors claimed that they had "gotten it all". They were extremely happy that my lymph nodes and margins were clear. So was I, I guess. I didn't really know what that meant until I did more online research. I then realized how very lucky I really was. No wonder why my doctors were happy. This type of cancer isn't usually discovered until it is quite advanced. That also is why it typically has single-digit 5 year survival statistics. My cancer was in stage I. Catching it that early is almost unheard of. That prompted them to tell me that I have a good chance of being one of the survivors. As unreal as it seems, I did feel lucky. No, that is when I realized that I wasn't just lucky, I was blessed.
Two doctors came in to fill me in on what the rest of my agenda looked like. They suggested that I have both chemo and radiation in addition to the surgery. I didn't like that message at all! Up until that moment, I was willing to go along with their agenda. But when I got that message, I dug in my heels. I didn't like their new plan. Didn't they say that they had gotten all of the cancer? Didn't they say that my lymph nodes were clear? Heck, what were they even going to radiate? They had already taken out everything that was diseased. Right? No, I didn't understand or like this plan at all. It was really hard for me to accept. For some reason, I dealt WAY better with the cancer diagnosis than I did with this recommended treatment for me. I still don't know why.
Maybe it was because all of this happened in the midst of trying to orchestrate my daughter's wedding. I didn't think I could have the hiccup of dealing with chemo and the likes. My daughter and her fiance were planning on an August 7th wedding and I didn't want to be the reason it wouldn't happen, or the reason why it wouldn't happen the way they envisioned it. I was determined to be feeling better by her wedding date and to pull off a nice wedding for her.
I finally agreed to do the recommended treatments, but only after the doctors agreed to let me wait until after the wedding to start my chemo....what a relief! Time flew by, the wedding was really, really nice and a few days later, I started my next roller coaster ride of the year. My treatment arrangement was called a "sandwich". It consisted of 6 weeks of chemo in Kalamazoo, then back to Mayo for 6 weeks of radiation, followed by 6 more weeks of chemo back in Kalamazoo. Oh what a lovely, yummy sounding sandwich....not!
All I can say is, I am so blessed to have great family and friends. They helped me so much. Not only did they help with the actual wedding planning and duties, they gave me the strength and support that I needed throughout my recovery. They made me feel loved & cared about and I was truly blessed to have been the recipient of so many prayers. I believe that the prayers made the biggest difference in all of this and no one will change my mind about that.
I finished my final treatment in February of this year (2011) and I couldn't have been happier than the day I was done. No, I didn't lose my hair, but I lost so much of what I had always taken for granted. My stamina, my memory, my strength. I was anemic, and not carrying enough oxygen. I was achy all-over and tired. My blood pressure went "stroke high" and it took weeks to get it regulated. Little by little though, things are getting back to normal. I'm getting better all of the time. I feel so blessed. Now that the "sandwich" is in my rear-view mirror, I'm glad I went through it for the extra punch it would give "the big C".
Cancer is a bad thing but it brings a lot of good. Good people most of all.
I did my best to keep working though as much of the treatment as I could. It gave me some sense of normalcy and it helped me prioritize what was really important in my life. My company and co-workers were unbelievably understanding and supportive. I will forever be grateful to them. My son was another one of my blessings from God. He was so helpful by taking care of my dogs and the house. Those were things that I was worried about and he handled it all.
Throughout this difficult time, I had the opportunity to get to know a great, great guy. He's someone that I've known for 12 years as a co-worker, but I didn't know him well. We have a lot in common and had occasionally enjoyed lively conversations together. But up until this time, that was it. Lucky for me, he is a thoughtful and empathetic person. He made an effort to keep in touch with me throughout this cancer "journey". He was encouraging and understanding, but most of all he made me feel normal. I can't tell you how important feeling normal was. It made me feel good when he complimented me on my determination to keep up with things. I think I sometimes pushed myself harder and kept going because of his encouragement. It would've been easy to give in, but it felt good to be admired for "plugging along" as best I could. He made me feel like the effort was worthwhile. Little by little his friendship has turned into something that means a lot to me. A relationship wasn't anything I was looking for, but it found me. I believe he must be part of God's plan. Life is good.
Well, now you're caught up with where I am in my journey. We'll both have to wait to see where the rest of this year is going to take me. Stay posted.
Hugs to you all....
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