Ephphatha

I can only imagine being a deaf and mute person in biblical times.  I assume people would stare at you blankly when you didn't respond to them during conversation.  I doubt you would have many friends.  How could you hold down a job?  They didn't have hearing aids or computers that were able to talk for them back then. Communication is such a huge part of life and relationships; the life of a deaf and mute person would be difficult today, let alone in those days.

Imagine how that man must have felt when Jesus healed him!  Ephphatha!  Be opened!! Suddenly, you could speak freely and hear clearly!  You would automatically believe the healer was the Savior and be opened to His word...even if He did spit on his hand and touch your tongue;)

Recently, I've landed myself in the middle.  I try to avoid the middle, but it's not the first time I've been here and I'm sure it's not the last.   Sometimes I'm stuck directly in the middle right inside my very own head!  But when I'm here, I feel tongue tied and twisted. A little like the deaf and mute man might have felt until he was healed.

I know that if I'm going to live in the middle I have to keep my opinions to myself.  Struggle with the thoughts that are dancing around in my mind until I can clear the cobwebs.  I've learned this lesson the hard way...again.  When my emotions are not in check, the words often seem to rhyme even when they are wrong.

I changed my name, but I'll always be a Runion.  You know, act first, apologize later. This is why, as I grow older, I generally steer clear of emotional topics, political debates, or taking a stance publicly. 

I stay away from the emotional topics because I believe that generally people are good.  I believe that most people want what is right; what is just.  Maybe we don't understand what others are fighting for, what battle is tucked safely, deep down in their heart that is causing actions and reactions? Perhaps the emotional string that a friend or foe clings to so very tightly is protected with armor because they will unravel if you start pulling at the string.


Wouldn't it be AMAZING if right when we were in the middle of an argument heated discussion (you know, right before you slam the door and stomp off-Yes, I totally still do this), we could scream: EPHPHATHA!  The person we are fighting discussing with could then look into our heart and understand. You know, what certain emotions are tied to, why a certain belief is so strong and close to their heart, why you feel so strongly one way or the other.

Or when you make a decision, right or wrong, and it hurts a person you love.  Wouldn't it be great to scream EPHPHATHA and let them see that the decision was not made to hurt them or cause them harm.  Certainly, they might still be hurt, but they could see that you made the decision with love.

Maybe even when Keegan has 10 dry days and then a day where he has three accidents in one day.  I could  lovingly see into his heart and know what he was thinking and why he didn't walk his cute little white behind into the restroom.  He could see into my heart and understand my frustration.  We could work together at the problem instead of fighting against each other. He would no longer feel guilt/shame/outcast when he had an accident and I would no longer feel anger/frustration when I noticed because we could see into each others hearts.

And  what if we forgot to scream it from the rooftops when were in the middle of the discussion? Perhaps we could grab our microphone and amplify our apology: EPHPHATHA! I am sorry.  Be opened. 

Wouldn't that be amazing?

His word offers this!

Ephphatha! BE OPENED.

Be opened! 

Open your eyes and your ears.  Open your heart.  Over and over again, be opened.

I can only dream of how many people I could bring to their knees if I could scream EPHIPHATHA when they ask if I chose to cut my hair like this or look at me with pity.

Be Opened to His promises, to His forgiveness, to His Grace.

Mark 7:31-37

New International Version (NIV)

Jesus Heals a Deaf and Mute Man

³¹ Then Jesus left the vicinity of Tyre and went through Sidon, down to the Sea of Galilee and into the region of the Decapolis.^{[a] 32} There some people brought to him a man who was deaf and could hardly talk, and they begged Jesus to place his hand on him.
³³ After he took him aside, away from the crowd, Jesus put his fingers into the man’s ears. Then he spit and touched the man’s tongue. ³⁴ He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh said to him, “Ephphatha!” (which means “Be opened!”). ³⁵ At this, the man’s ears were opened, his tongue was loosened and he began to speak plainly.
³⁶ Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone. But the more he did so, the more they kept talking about it. ³⁷ People were overwhelmed with amazement. “He has done everything well,” they said. “He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”

Guest Blog: Portrayal

Excited to post the first guest blog in quite some time.  I have a couple other people that have committed to a post over the next couple weeks as well!

 Cheryl is a fellow cancer survivor and one of my very dear friends. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did...I will certainly be more conscious when the monsters ask me why I am exercising!?

Portrayal

According to Webster's Dictionary portrayal is: The act or process of depicting or portraying.  For me this means the manner in which I wish to portray myself to my children. 

In today's society we are bombarded with different portrayals of women.  I know that I cannot prevent my children from all these sources, but I can control how I present myself to them.  I'm not going to start a rant about the media and how it should change.  But I can hope to maybe shed a little light as to why I think this is important.

 When I found out that I was going to have a girl I was terrified.  I knew exactly the kind of role model I did not want to be but was clueless as to how I was going to be otherwise. Growing up I had a close family member who constantly reminded me that my outward appearance was more important than anything else while constantly reminding me that my appearance was not good enough.  The comments were always hurtful and degrading.  This is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to avoid.

For those of you who know me, you are probably thinking "When have I ever heard a negative comment or something degrading". Well, I save those for myself,  in my head.  Because of all the comments and ridicule from childhood I have a horrible self image.  It has taken me years to forgive the person who imbedded this portrayal of myself and realize how untrue it is. 

Due to those feelings I am always very careful of what I say around my girls.  I never voice out loud if I am having a bad day and whatever negative thoughts I may have about myself.  You will never hear me say in front of my children "I need to exercise more since those chocolate chip cookies found their way into my belly", or "Better lay off the pizza my thighs are expanding". I will never ask if I look fat in an outfit or anything that resembles this question or even state that I feel fat today.  These are the types of comments that made me become extremely conscious of how I looked, whether they were directed at me or not.

My oldest daughter asked me once why I run and exercise.  I thought carefully about my answer and decided that the truth would be best.  I told her it was because I wanted to be a healthy Mommy so that I could run around and play with my kids and I like to run, it gives me time to think.  She looked at me, cocked her head to one side and said "that's a good idea Mom".  I don't want my children to think that exercise is performed just to lose weight or look good.  I want to emphasize that living a healthy lifestyle will make you feel better and have more energy.

In truth the reason why I started running cross country all those years ago was to hopefully please the person who ridiculed me the most.  After high school I stopped running since I wasn't around that person anymore.  When I did start running again it was for my health and the pure enjoyment of it.   

I guess the point I am trying to get across is to be conscious of what you say around your children about yourself.  Trust me they pick up on it.  For me the goal is to make sure my children are caring individuals who have a positive image of who they are.  Not an image that is tainted by someone else's negative feelings.  If I can portray myself as a caring person that gives to others and has a positive outlook on life and hope that it rubs off on my children, what more could I ask for.

 

              The girls and I before my first quarter marathon.  I know Paige looks thrilled! It was pretty early in the morning. They are still my biggest fans though!!

Although sometimes I think they go just to hang out at the pool or hot tub!!

Later,

Cheryl

 

Conversations with Crackheads...I mean Clients!

60+year old client: You might want to try having them tie you down.  I found that it was hard to stay still and liked that I could relax a little against the restraints.

Professional Paralegal: Mr. 60+year old client, I can't believe you're telling me that you like restraints!!! I have an entirely different view of you.  (Sweet, innocent Laura voice.  You know the one if you've listened to my voicemail or called into my office and you don't recognize me-that voice!)  I guess I could try it though if you think it will help! I'll try anything once.

60+year old client: Stop talking dirty to me!  I'm getting flustered! And don't tell my wife that I had another woman tie me down!

All professionalism has vanished at this point: Bahahaha.  Ok, deal.

 

 

60+year old client: We have been praying nonstop, Laura.

 

 

We were talking about radiation, SHEESH!!  Get your head out of the gutter!  He found it very difficult to sit still in the mold while they zapped him, so they restrained him in the position that he needed to sit still in.  Asking about restraints at my next appointment!

Medical update: They added another 80 cc's to each side this week...back to a B cup:)  I will have a couple more pump-ups and they will have me ready to radiate ahead of schedule:) Slogged/Walked a couple miles Monday and my muscles hate me!  It's been a long time since I've attempted jogging and they are reminding me.

Still looking for a guest blogger/two since I have about one minute of my 15 minute presentation completed and it's only a week away!!

Laughter is the best medicine,

 

Getting used to FOOBS!

I'm a big fan of made up words.  I like to play around on Urban Dictionary and have even submitted a few of my own definitions.  Well, I heard this one and immediately loved it.  FOOBS=Fake Boobs.

As promised, this week I will touch on what it's like when you're forced to get used to foobs.  I use "forced" because I didn't choose to be diagnosed with breast cancer and I do not want to live the rest of my life as the CEO of the itty bitty titty committee.  But actually, I'm not forced to have reconstruction.  Many women find it liberating to go without foobs and I have viewed many pictures of women that have a tattoo in place of reconstruction. During my two weeks as CEO I'm happy that I opted for immediate reconstruction.

I have posted about getting "pumped up" on facebook, but I haven't really explained what they do.  After the boob chop, my surgeon (Dr. Joseph Crowe: amazing and I highly recommend him) handed me over to my plastic surgeon (Dr. Risal Djohan: equally amazing, highly recommend him and also kind of demanding;)).  Dr. Djohan placed tissue expanders where my real boobies once were (except under the muscle) and sewed me up.  (He used three layers of stitching and the outside was closed with durabond (medical glue)). When I look at pictures online of other women two weeks post op, my incision sites are at the very top as far as appearance is concerned. 

Now I go see Dr. Djohan once every week/two to get pumped up.  The tissue expanders are a hard, but movable plastic.  Since they are placed under muscle, when they pump me up, they are also expanding muscle.  This causes muscle spasms and pain.   Sharp pain that takes your breath away.

The day before my second expansion, I met the newest addition to my team of doctors.  I prepared for my appointment. Paperwork:check. Mam X-rays: check. Lab results, path results, prescription list, treating docs, etc: check check check. I am a well informed patient.  I took the picture below to encourage others to do the same.  If you aren't responsible for your care, on your toes and inquisitive, who is keeping the doctors informed, up to date and ready?  You have to fight hard for your life if you want them to join you in the very important fight.
 

I pulled in the drive to the radiologist appointment and remembered all of my dad's appointments there.... You simply can't prepare for that.  I'm terrible with directions. I can't decipher North/South when I'm driving. I don't look for landmarks. I type in the address and listen to the lady talk to me. I knew the office was at St. Luke's, but it didn't register that it was Northwest Ohio Oncology building, Dr. Ritter's office until I was in the parking lot. My paperwork read Toledo Radiation Oncology and I was focused on Dr. Shaneli Fernando. Well, no matter how prepared you are for an appointment, this kind of take your breath away feeling isn't something you can prepare for! Luckily I left in enough time to sit in the parking lot and compose myself.  I prayed.  I cried. I took deep breaths. I told my dad how much I miss him.  I thanked God for all that I have.

And I walked in the doctor's office with my head held high and ready to discuss radiation.  I loved Dr. Fernando.  I instantly clicked with her like I did with my oncologist, Dr. Dushkin.  She commented that it is refreshing to have a patient so well informed and level headed when it comes to risk vs. reward.  Bluntly I explained that my life is the reward that I want the most and the appearance of my foobs is secondary to that. 

My plastic surgeon is a perfectionist.  He is fighting for the reward of wonderful looking and feeling foobs.  I want wonderful looking and feeling foobs, but my most important goal is life.  The radiologist needs to do what she needs to do regardless of the foobs.  So,  when we discussed some of the side effects of radiation, I made my objective clear.  Blast away and we'll deal with skin breakdown if it comes to that.  Skin breakdown and scarring sometimes occurs due to the radiation.  Sometimes this requires the tissue expanders to be removed and then you're back at square one with the foobs.  Subsequent surgeries would have to take place to start another foob and this situation would be super *not fun.  Still, the radiation is necessary for my end goal of living a long life.  It is more important to me, even it compromises my foobs. I want to make sure there is not a cancer recurrence if at all possible.

With this in mind, my radiologist informed me that she would like to start radiation sooner rather than later.  She laughed and said to tell my plastics that he should work his magic since he expects the top results from her.  I told my plastics that my radiologist wants to fit me by mid-November and he has agreed to pump me up by then.

For this to happen though, they are going to have to pump me up at a quicker pace.  Marci played taxi for me this week.  She was able to join me for one of the most amusing appointments because I had some fun questions. So, I laid on the table as she read off my list of questions and Dr. Djohan answered.   How fragile are my foobs?  When can I run?  When can I yoga?  When can I be intimate?  While he was answering the questions, he stuck a needle into each foob and added more fluid. Today they put 80ccs of fluid into each foob. My new rack is expanded to the point that it hurts to breathe, but no pain, no gain, right!? I'm going in next week for more! 

My incisions are healing well!  I need to continue to massage the tissue to minimize scar tissue.  I'm allowed to jog and start to raise my arms! 

I'm still getting used to foobs.

I am starting back to work tomorrow though, so I must attempt to sleep now!

Sweet dreams of perky, pretty, minimally radiation effected foobs,





Marci asked if she was supposed to document a pump up appointment.  I'm not THAT confident in my foobs yet.  Not sure if I will ever be, but I will model for the inquisitive minds.  Don't scroll down if you're not nosey;)










STOP SCROLLING, SHEESH;)








Yes, I blocked this post on my little cousins facebook newsfeed and any other high school monster that I'm friends with.





 You will not be able to see scars in a bra/swim suit other than a little tiny bit in my left arm pit.  I'm almost a B already and I'm modeling a hand me down bra from one of my besties.

Mark it down, I'm a survivor

If you read my facebook status last week after my appointment, maybe you were one of the many that were confused, but too shy to ask further?  Maybe you googled?  Maybe you read the optimistic tone and were satisfied that the results were all positive?  A few asked for more detail and a few of my blog followers don't facebook, so here is more of an update of my follow-up appointment and my recovery.

This was my facebook status and what the doctors were VERY PLEASED WITH:

Stage 2a. Two separate masses. CLEAR MARGINS!!!

6 lymph nodes taken. 1 lymph macrometasteses 2.5 mm. 1 lymph micromastastes (teeny tiny cancer cell) 4 lymph nodes without tumor cells.

Good news!! Radiation in a couple months to zap any remaining c-cells.

No more drain tubes and expansion was successful today!

Thanks so much for all the prayers!

This is what I really thought:

Who cares what they stage me at now?  If they would have done surgery prior to chemotherapy, I would have been staged 2c-3b.  Yes, it's GREAT that the chemo shrunk the masses, but what difference does the number make!?  When I was first diagnosed, I was obsessed with what stage I was.  I googled, I read books, I read pamphlets.  All of the information offered statistics-based on stage. But if I had to have chemo to achieve that stage, what's the difference?

Two separate masses. Indifferent.  What does it matter if I had one bigger tumor or two little ones?  When they stage, it matters.  If you have two tumors smaller than X, it's one letter.  When you have one tumor greater than X, it's another letter.  Does it really matter?  I have the same amount of stupid effing cancer floating around in my (unusually perky for having children) b-cup.

Going into surgery, I was most concerned with the lymph nodes.  As I've talked about before, cancer likes to spread to different parts of the body.  Lymph nodes are the way the nasty cells travel.  When I had my biopsy the report on my lymph node read: MASSIVELY OVERGROWN WITH CARCINOMA. (NOT GOOD) What I wanted to hear when they read my path report was that only dead cancer cells OR NORMAL cells were in all of the lymph nodes they retrieved from under my arm.  I don't care it the one lymph node only had ONE cell in the entire lymph node and the other it was a teeny tiny collection.   I didn't want ANY! 

I was pissed.  I held it together in the appointments.  The surgeon was quick and too the point-successful surgery, clear margins, chemo worked.  My oncologist came from a different building of the Cleveland Clinic just to review the results with me in person because she knows that I want to know exactly what is going on AND she wanted to tell me that I'm cancer free and hug me. She looked me straight in the eye and told me that she is out to cure me and that they got it...ALL.

EXCEPT I know too many people that have had cancer.

So when Heidi called to check my mental status, I couldn't mask my disappointment.  When I walked around the house Tuesday-Friday I couldn't smile unless the kids were watching me.

Yes, I was and am ELATED that the chemo shrunk the cancer.  I'm glad that I went with my instinct and started chemo immediately so that the doctors were able to get clear margins during surgery.  I think that my team of highly qualified medical professionals will do everything in their power to kill this beast. 

But, I went through hell this summer.  I have huge scars and painful scar tissue where my perky b-cups used to be.  I WANTED NO LYMPH NODES.

Further, my cousin told everyone that physically I would be fine.  I thought she was crazy.  I knew what I was getting into.  I looked at pictures online.  I have seen her incision.  I saw it when it was fresh.  I knew what I was getting into. So I thought.

When you look down in the shower and all you see is two huge incisions and your fat belly that used to look MUCH smaller because your boobs hid it, it's tough.  It's hard to force yourself to get up and walk because that will help the healing when really it would be so much easier to take a pain killer and go back to sleep.  It's hard to think that I still have many trips to "get pumped up", radiation, at least my ovaries taken if not a total hysterectomy and 10+years of drugs to go and not feel deflated.

I have already worked so hard and there is proof.  The cancer responded to the chemo.  I have the scars to prove clear margins.  Yet, I still have a long way to go.

-----------------------------------------------

Saturday I decided I was over feeling sorry for myself.  I asked a friend to go walking.  Since then I've walked 2.5-3.5 miles every day.  I've watched the kids play in the backyard, walked to all the parks in town, went to the zoo, went to the mall and I'm even going into work for a few hours tomorrow.  I've looked at my husband in the eye rather than looking off in the distance to never never land feeling uncertain and scared.

I suppose I'm allowed to have a pity party for a few days, right? 

But I'm ready now.  Meeting with my radiation oncologist Monday to set up the plan of attack.  Traveling to Cleveland on Tuesday to get "pumped up" again.  Fully aware that they find traces of c-cells in the lymph nodes of A LOT of breast cancer SURVIVORS.  I'm ready to make sure my name is on the top of that list. I'm ready make my mark in ink, fully aware of all of my blessings.

Cards, jewelry, FOOD (NO MORE SWEETS!! I NEED TO FIT IN MY CLOTHES!!), pjs, encouragement, flowers, texts, calls, PRAYERS.

SO.MANY.PRAYER WARRIORS.  SO MANY PRAYERS.

So unbelievably blessed,


 

Surgery and postop

We woke up the day of surgery actually feeling rested and well. I might have shot a couple laser beams out of my eyes when we were running late, but I didn't turn anyone into a green alien. I consider that a success. 

We checked in a little after 9:30am and our buzzer rang minutes later. The first surgery was ahead of schedule and my preop started immediately. My plastic surgeon met us in preop and offered to answer any last minute questions. We told him we were set and he promised my family he would take great care of me. 

They started my iv, checked to make sure I wasn't prego (eeek, I probably would have fainted) and asked us to say goodbye. I hugged and kissed my mom, cousin, ash, Laura and Aaron and then I took a trip to the OR with a young gentlemen that recently broke up with his girlfriend. He told me about how she cheated and lied and that he'd still take her back. If he was trying to get my mind off the surgery, it worked;)

Outside the OR my surgeons nurse and the anesthesia expert met me and asked me what I was there for: double mastectomy with lymph node dissection. Yes, jake is my brother, but I'm much cooler than him and please don't base my surgery on your opinion of him;)

They wheeled me into the OR and I met the rest of the team. Doctors, nurses, and one more hug and kiss from my baby brother. They huddled and a sweet nurse told me she has been praying for me since they found out. That's all I remember until I woke up in recovery.

I was still pretty groggy when I woke up and didn't know either of the nurses next to me. I looked at the clock and started to panic!! They told me to expect 5.5-6 hours. It was only 3:30...just over four hours. They asked me if I wanted to wait alone for them to get the recovery room ready or if I wanted my husband. I wanted my husband (I was on drugs;)). When he walked in I asked him why they stopped the surgery? What's wrong?? 

He told me that everything went as planned and the doctors were very confident that the chemotherapy worked well!! Surgery could not have went better. 

I still thought they were lying to me. Heidi and my mom confirmed what Aaron told me, but I don't think I truly believed they did it until my assessment by the nurse when I took a peak. The itty bitty titty committee has a new chairperson! 

I ate the night of surgery, used the restroom and even walked the halls! They discharged me the next day and I felt pretty good all day and slept well at the Runion Hotel!

Friday I insisted on a shower. I wanted it before breakfast and I was overly confident in my abilities (similar to when I had the biopsy and turned green). I might have blacked out for a brief minute after the shower. It might have freaked both Aaron and myself out. Since then, I have been a much more compliant patient. 

Friday was pretty rough. I was scared from the fall and not in the greatest spirits, but by the end of the night I felt better. Leah, Tory, Jake and Laine all talked hospital and we enjoyed the company of our siblings.

Saturday morning I felt much better. I ate breakfast before I showered. Laine took out my pain pump and we decided to make the trip home.

 I still have two drain tubes that need measured three times a day. I can tell when the pain meds wear off. It's not fun to need assistance doing everyday tasks. I'm terrible at rest! I'm trying though. 

Tomorrow (Tuesday) is my follow up appointment. They will "pump me up" a little (add some fluid to my tissue expanders), hopefully take out at least one if the drains, but most importantly they will go over my pathology report. The stage of my cancer will be discussed. Clear margins will be a hot topic. 

So, that's the update! I'm up and mobile.  Writing this entry from Lilly's soccer game even! Thank you all so very much for all the love and prayers! A few more prayers for tomorrows appointment are appreciated!  

With lots of love,

CEO Itty Bitty Titty Committee 

Laura L. Strong

Preop

Postop

Day after waiting for them to discharge!!

Keep Your Head Up

Keep your head up, keep your heart strong!

 

All I was searching for was me.

Last week when I checked in, my head was kind of a mess.  I was overwhelmed by thoughts of surgery and how I was going to manage getting everything done and ready for my absence at the house, work, church, etc?  Overwhelmed. 

This weekend I devoted my time to the monsters while they were awake and to ME when they were sleeping.  I sipped mimosas with a few of my besties when the monsters went to school on my day off.  I had a secret society meeting with a few amazing women.  I READ!! I haven't carved out time to read in, well, since I was diagnosed.  I have attempted to read a book from a dear friend a few times, but I couldn't muster the concentration required to sit with ME. Alone in the quiet.

I've been searching A LOT lately.  For the perfect post-surgery bra. For a way to tell your children what to expect after surgery.  For ways to organize a household of active monsters while the manager is out of commission.  For temporary help at work.  For the instructions to set up my phone to receive work email.  For the most comfortable button-up pjs.  For anything really so that I don't have to just sit and be with ME.

 But what I really needed to search for was me. 

I needed to focus. Listen to my heart.  Have the difficult conversations rather than continue worry about them.  I needed to just. sit. still. and close my eyes and breathe.

So, this weekend I sat with my beautiful monsters and we talked about surgery.  My white haired baby boy asked me if I was going to survive. (Not sure where he's hearing this word or even that he knows what it means, but when you hear this blunt questions from such a cute little monster, it's certainly enough to take your breath away.) The best response I could muster was simply to tell him, "that's the plan, bud"! 

My curly haired baby girl asked if they can come and visit me at the hospital or Uncle Jakey's and I had to tell her no. Even though Mommy would love to see them as soon as surgery is over, my body will not be ready for little ones to visit for a few days. In the meantime, I just want them all to have fun with their grandparents and friends.  She teared up and said she will miss me and it took everything in me not to breakdown. 

While we were discussing the surgery, my monster that jumps up and down all day long just absorbed it all ...until I tucked her in later that evening.  Mommy, I read the what to expect when your Mom has cancer book again.  I think I'm ready for the surgery.  We've been learning chores lately so that we can help, right? Camille and I have a plan.  Monday and Saturday we will sweep the downstairs and Wednesday we will fold towels.  We will all keep our room picked up and tuck you in every night when you come home.

She's eight.

I hate that she has to get this, but I told her that all sounded wonderful.  In addition, Daddy especially needs them all to be good listeners.   She agreed.

It was difficult.  I know I'll have a hard time leaving them Tuesday night.  I know that they can't truly wrap their heads around what is in store next week, but I'm going with honesty is the best policy.  I've been holding off on the conversations because I didn't want to scare them.  Cancer is scary though.

As I was searching for me, I asked myself a couple tough questions.  The 'what if' questions that you don't really discuss.  Rather than let them eat at me, I bluntly asked my partner what his expectations of me are.  As the mother of his children, as his wife and best friend, what would he expect IF.

If this or that or this and that or after this long or after that treatment.  What do YOU expect of ME.  What do I expect of ME and what am I willing to do.

I've thought about how he could have picked any woman and he picked me.  I was thinking, "Man, he drew the short straw on this one!" But after we talked and I know what he expects, I know that no matter what happens, he already has the very best parts of me. 

The little boy that told me last week, "Mommy, I love you more than God loves me".   The little girl that climbed into bed last night and whispered, "Can I lay with you tonight, I didn't get to see you that much today".  The young girl that's always smiling, yet wise beyond her years, that plans to play Mommy in my absence.

And you know what, that's enough.  Even if all of the "what-ifs" happen, that's enough.

Now. Now that I've had the difficult conversations, I can take the rest of the week to search for me.  Feed my soul with the food it has so desperately been calling for.  I was searching for all of the things that I thought I needed, but all I needed to search for was me. 

I'm ready now.  My body and mind are strong and ready to fight, no matter what they find when they open me up.

Special prayers today for Erica as she meets with doctors and maps out the course of action.  Special prayers for AD tomorrow for good test results. Special prayers for AC to make a full recovery.

SPECIAL THANK GOD for the BRCA results my cousins received recently and directional and loving prayers to my aunt that unfortunately is a carrier.

Keep your head up, keep your heart strong,