4,000 Views Equals A Lot of Prayers

Thank you so much for all of the wonderful, inspiring messages!  I have read them all and the love I have received is certainly palpable (one of the new words they use to describe the stupid c word growing inside of me can be much better used to describe the support I have received.  Palpable: Able to be felt or touched).  I can feel it.  I have messages from people praying all over the United States.  They are just as real to me as the scary stuff going on inside my body.


Today I'm going have a Pet Scan.  This is MUCH more scary than a mammogram or ultrasound.   Much more scary not because I have to be enclosed in a tube alone with my brain, but because the results have a major impact on my prognosis.

A Pet Scan will show hot spots if there is cancer present anywhere else in my body. 

Stupid freaking cancer likes to spread so this test is crazy important.

So, this post is mostly just to check in and ask you all to keep praying. 

I am doing alright mentally.  We have done the hardest thing in the world...we told our beautiful children that I have cancer.  That this journey is going to be scary and hard and no matter what Mommy and Daddy love them more than anything on this earth.  They know they have a ton of support and people to talk to when they're scared or mad or sad.  Lilly picked to wear pink today because "Mommy needs us all to fight!"

So, we're going to fight.

Hope and pray that this nasty stuff is contained.

Pray and believe in miracles.

Keep the loud, big, bold prayers coming.

Court, I will be thinking of this verse during the exam.  Thanks, my lady.

Psalm 112:7 They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord.



HOPE

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Thanks, heid...your wisdom and truth mean so much more than your gifts, but I will wear them everyday with pride!

Kicking cancers ass in style;)

DAMMIT DOLL...SO PERFECT, ANG.  

I have it.

After the mammogram and ultrasound, I was worried, but I didn't really know true worry until the next day.  Jo, my favorite nurse at the gynocologists office called. (She pretends that I'm going to weigh in under 150 every time I step on the scale and the other B knows I'm going to be over that mark...it's the little things, ya know!?)  She asked if the radiologist went over my results with me.  I told her that yes, he informed me that he would like me to have further testing which included multiple biopsies and a chest MRI.  She continued to read from my report "Highly suspicious of malignancy, Birad 5".

And I stopped listening.  I started to research.  I have an online PhD if you didn't know that. Cancer terminology isn't new or confusing because I know it already.  The Birad scale is what radiologists use to tell the surgeons how concerning the lumps are.  The only thing higher than a five is a six...you can't score a six until it's confirmed by a biopsy.

EFF.

I went to Ashley's to workout after working all day.  Working out usually makes me a little less stressed.  I was looking forward to a hug and lots of sweat.  But, as I was pulling in, my general practioner called.  He knows me and knows that I like it straight.  Doesn't sugar coat because it'll just piss me off. 

He told me to prepare to fight.  They don't score a patient a 5 unless they are pretty darn sure.  He would recommend radical treatment. 

Jokingly I asked him for some Xanax. 

Quickly he responded: Laura, you might need some.  Please call if you do.

4/9/13

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The next day I met with a surgeon.  She was more optimistic, but did not shy away from the very real possiblity of malignancy either.  She answered questions as to why they believe it to be cancerous: Shape, dimensions, lymph activity.  All the things I know all to well.

We planned to meet her the next day for a needle biopsy with ultrasound guiding of two masses and a lymph node.  We all tried to remain positive, but we know this all to well.  We've been down this road before.

4/10/13

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I went to work the morning of the biopsy.  I did not complete one single task.  NOT ONE.   I starred at a blank computer screen or I researched breast cancer.

I arrived for the biopsy ready to go.  Ready to get this show on the road.  The surgeon was great.  Quick in and out.  It hurt, but no tears.  I'm tough.  I can do this.  I'm going to own this.

And then it was all over and one of the nurses, trying to comfort me-no doubt, said: "Wouldn't it be a great surprise if it wasn't cancer!?" 

All of the sudden, it was real.  I couldn't breathe.  I felt dizzy.  Tears started streaming down my face, but I tried to keep it together.  They asked if I was able to sit up and I thought to myself: I ran 4 miles a couple days ago, of course I can freaking sit up!! But when I sat up I felt dizzier.  I had to lay back down.  They had to get me orange juice and blankets and tell me to breathe.  I looked yellow...I felt black and blue.

They patiently worked overtime for me and told me to take my time.  They let me sit for my mammogram this time because they didn't want me to pass out.  The mammogram hurt this time.  The numbing agent didn't account for my anxiety attack and after a bunch of needles are poked into your breast and you don't take the pictures while your breasts are still numb, the mammogram hurts a little more. 

My first panic attack.  I survived.  I'm still on the fence about meds and I have been ok since.  Teary eyed and distant, but ok.

4/11/13

Now more waiting. 

4/16/13

The waiting is over. I have invasive ductal carcinoma with lymph nodes that test positive. 

I have breast cancer. 

I'm ready.  I am ready to fight.  I've been ready to fight for a few weeks now, but I've been waiting for confirmation that it's time.

I have flowers.  I have loving, supportive family ready to fight with me.  I have more friends than one single person could possibly ask for.

All I need now is prayer. 

Big, bold, noisy prayers.  The kind of prayers that drop you to your knees.  That kind.  That's all I need.

I'm ready.  Let's fight.



 

Trying to show a friend that I was ok before meeting with the surgeon;)

I'm a warrior.  I can do this....EXCEPT.  I turned yellowish-green when the nurse just assumed it is the stupid effing C word.  When I changed back into the Warrior Dash shirt, I didn't feel like a warrior and I noticed the title of the magazine...LIVING WITH CANCER.

Part of my war wound...

Hey, can you come out tonight?  I need to go out.  Yep, we'll be there.

Love my golden girls.  Pampering was just what I needed.

More waiting, more real

My first mammogram experience has turned into more waiting and the very real possibility that shit's going to get a lot more real.

Take off your top and undergarments from the waist up.  Place your clothes in a locker and meet me in this waiting room.  Check, done.  I can do this! I've got this.  Piece of cake.

Ok, Laura, follow me.  Can you tell me a little about what is going on?  Did you find the spot you're concerned about?  Can you show me?

Yes, right here.  I found it three weeks and ago and this is where it's landed me.

 Oh yes, I see it, it's indented. (not good, you want symmetry, not indents)  Let's mark it.  Are there any other areas of concern? 

Yes, I have a couple lymph nodes that are scaring me.

Ok, let's mark those, too.

** My note to women that are preparing for their first mammogram: It's not that bad.  I mean, after you've had three monsters and a blood clot, you've pretty much lost ALL modesty, but other than the awkwardness of them taking your female parts and placing them on the squisher, it's not that bad.  It didn't hurt and I really don't have anything to squish!

Picture, picture, picture, picture, picture, picture.  Ok, wait in the waiting room for the ultrasound tech.

I watched 4 women come and go while I waited in the waiting room...I knew it wasn't good.  Then the same beautiful smiling nurse came back.  Why is she back?  I'm supposed to be waiting for an ultrasound tech! 

Honey, the radiologist wants to get a few (HUNDRED) more views.

Back to the mammogram room.  I'm pretty sure the mam machine was spinning at about the exact speed as my head at this point.  They had the machine in every possible angle and they were taking pictures the entire time. When they finally stopped, I was pretty confident in their concern.  The shape of their faces was different and although they were nice from the moment I walked in, they were somehow even more caring now.

I waited some more.  What do you do in a waiting room when you're pretty sure the outcome is going to suck?  Watch TV?  I'm not a big TV fan to begin with so that didn't really help.  Read the materials they have laying around?  I'm not a big fan of waiting room reading materials.  I just stared straight ahead, blankly.  I cracked jokes via text to my girlfriends.  In the back of my mind though, I thought: this can not be happening! I am so not ready to do this.  I knew I'd get cancer at some point in my life, but seriously, I'm only 31!!!  31!!!

After what felt like hours, but also like seconds, the ultrasound tech retrieved me for some more fondling, except this time she only concentrated on a couple spots.  Picture after picture of the same two spots.  Measure, click, measure, contrast, click, measure, click, contrast. Over and over and over.  She attempted to talk to me, but I have no clue what we talked about.  When she was done she said the radiologist would be in to see me.

NOT WONDERFUL.  The radiologist generally only talks to the patients that they want to see for further evaluation.  NOT WONDERFUL.  I do not have time for this.  I don't want further testing. 

Calmly the radiologist entered the room and told me that I have a couple suspicious areas of concern.  He wants to have a biopsy of them and would recommend a breast MRI as well. 

I didn't really interrogate him.  When I woke up from a dead sleep 3 weeks ago I knew it wasn't good. 

I returned to work and sat down at my desk to call the surgeon.  I need an appointment for biopsies.

4/8/13




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Proverbs 3:5-6

New International Version (NIV)

⁵ Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
⁶ in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight.^[a]

 

 

Stupid, Annoying Worry

Normally I'm not a huge fan of worry.  It doesn't do any good.  It doesn't change anything in the end. Really, I think it's kind of stupid and annoying!

But sometimes you can't help it...

A couple of weeks ago I woke up from a dead sleep and had the urge to check my breast.  No, this is not common for me and no, I wasn't having a (hmmmm, what should I call it?) "fun" dream.  I woke up and felt a lump.  One of those scary, "What the EFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!" lumps. So, I attempted to go back to sleep.

I woke up in the morning, not feeling very rested, but hopeful nonetheless.  "Maybe it was a bad dream?"  "I'm sure it's nothing." "I'm sure everything is fine."  You know, attempted to convince myself that I am cray cray (I am certifiably cray cray, but you know what I mean.  I was trying to convince myself that it wasn't a lump and I most certainly didn't have any enlarged lymph nodes (I do)).

My loving husband returned after a 12 hour shift and I had him feel me up...in the living room...Like "Aaron, seriously, feel this right now.  Am I cray cray?  What the EFF is this?!  And feel these!!  What the EFF!!??"  Not, "Hey, want me to join you for a shower?" feel me up.

But, he wouldn't tell me that I'm cray cray.  He said I should most certainly call the doctor Monday morning because I don't generally overreact about "me" things.  Like, I've really only gone to the doctor for anything other than well visits when my leg looked like Andre the Freaking Giant, so I need to call when the office opens.

So, I called when the office opened and they couldn't get me in until Friday.  FREAKING FRIDAY!! As I was calling to make the appointment an email from my friend Julie popped up on my screen. She dreamed about me last night and wants to have lunch soon. On any other day or from most other people this wouldn't have induced an anxiety attack, but Julie is a breast cancer survivor. Julie is a friend that I used to talk to daily, but due to our busy schedules these days we rarely get to chat. WHY is she emailing me today? Why is she dreaming about me!? I had to talk myself out of having a panic attack.  EFFF!

I waited all week and felt the lump and my enlarged lymph nodes and WORRIED. And pretended like everything was fine and dandy, but I worried.  I attended all of my meetings, went to work all week and somehow managed not to curl up in a ball and shut down.  I told my husband and mother that I did not need them to accompany me to the appointment.  I can handle getting felt up alone!  (And I knew she wouldn't tell me anything bad.  I was HOPING she'd tell me I was cray cray and everything was fine). 

But, she didn't.  She felt the lump.  She felt the lymph nodes.  I'm cray cray, but I wasn't imagining anything.  Well...EFF.

EFF. EFF.EFF.EFF.EFF.

Then I coached myself: "Ok, I have age on my side.  She just wants it checked out.  A diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound can't be that bad.  I'm sure it's nothing. "

Then my fear took over: "But, 1 in 8 women get breast cancer.  Cancer is prevalent in my family.  We are already having a shitastic month.  31 is young, but Heidi was younger!"

Next, I tried to concentrate on all of the activities that are going on in the next month or so.   I wrote in my planner, I bought some new clothes, I ate a box of Samoa cookies.  (Yes, the WHOLE EFFING BOX...IN A DAY!) Everything I normally do to stop the anxiety.  I pushed all of the thoughts out of my mind and tried not think of the "what if". 

I still have 6 more days to worry before the day of testing.  I'm still functioning.  I'm still working, but the concentration isn't what it should be.  I'm still standing on the soccer field and corralling the little monsters as we attempt to teach skills to very young, wild children, but my mind is wandering.  I'm trying to keep it all together, but the aching in my shoulders is very heavy.  I can feel it pushing down in anticipation of the appointment.  The anxiety of a possible rotten diagnosis.

I know how quickly life can change.  I have taken life for granted far too many times.   I've selfishly hurried the bedtime story in exchange for some alone time.  I've ignored the phone when I should have picked it up.  "In a minute" has turned into not at all. I continue to assume that all of my loved ones know just that: that I love them more than the words I can put together on a piece of paper.

And it's overwhelming and heavy and that stupid, annoying worry is there even when I fight it.

Keegan's been reminding me the last couple weeks, too.  "Mommy, would Mimi be our Mommy if you die?"

So, I worry and then I pray.  I pray and then I worry.  I take longer showers to rinse away the "what if" tears and promise to stop taking the days for granted.  I worry and I pray.

Stupid, annoying worry.

4/2/13

Philippians 4:6

New International Version (NIV)

⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

 

We tried to fight the worry with a retreat to my uncle's trailer...either way it was good to see my baby brother and Lainer even if the worry was still present.  Daddy was off and able to join us too, but I didn't snap any photos of him:(

 

 

Enough is enough

I have a blog in draft form that may/may not ever reach publish post status.  It's about worry and anxiety.  I wrote it yesterday when I thought I might have to check myself into the part of the hospital with rubber rooms.

And then I went home and rushed the kids to soccer practice. * Great, soccer practice!  I'm such a good parent for coaching a soccer team.  I certainly don't want to shoot laser beams out of my eyes at the person that volunteered me for another freaking activity. Really, I was thinking: GRRRRRRR...when am I going to fit in working out when I'm at the stupid soccer field every freaking night?  I don't know how to run a soccer practice!  I don't know anything about the sport other than some of the parents on the sidelines are cray cray and I can't get my kids to stay on the field without holding my hand!

So, I pried a few shy children away from their mothers.  I got them all going on a few drills and Camille had to go to the restroom.  In my mind I was annoyed as I had obviously asked both of the little monsters to use the restroom before we packed into the van for practice, but instead told her: "Ok, we can do that!"

BUT, the door to the restroom was locked. I asked her to squat.  Which she was fine with, (I mean we do go camping;)), but she was NOT fine with was the 2 effing drips of urine that fell in her underwear when I pulled up her pants.  This caused meltdown number one which, OF COURSE, turned into number two because if Cami isn't practicing, bet your beans Keegan isn't either.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

I managed to get Cami back on the field before the end of practice, but Keegan sat in the van the rest of practice...the two kids that I'm volunteering my time to coach for SAT IN THE FREAKING VAN! 

We rode home in silence after meltdown number three occured. I won't share in order to save my child some embarrassment, but I was done by this point.  I texted a couple friends that I needed xanax. I yelled at my mother.  I told my husband that MM could take his 83 hour work week and shove it up their ass.  DONE.

Enough is enough.

I started picking up my disasterous house, but stopped in my tracks when I heard: Mommy, I don't feel good.  I grabbed the puke bucket and sprinted up the stairs.  I caught it!! 22/24 in 24 hours!  Way to go mom!!  Keegan was sick every hour for 24 hours.  Mimi and Dad each caught a puke, too.  But seriously, 22/24 is pretty freaking amazing if ya ask me!! 

OMG!!!!!!  I'm so going to lose it.  ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

I managed to get into work for a few hours the next day and took a trip to Bowling Green to make an information exchange with a client...with a puke bucket, Gatorade and 3 crazy kids.  When I returned home though, I read a beautiful message from a friend and went running.  I was feeling better.  Tired, but better. 

I sat back down on the couch with Keegan after I caught one of his final pukes and kissed his white-blond hair.  I looked down at the new bracelet that Amy gave to me and I could feel it: BLESSED.

Knock, knock, knock: Pharmacy delivery of all of my favorite bad for you snacks and drinks.  Every prescription that I needed was filled!  I am so very blessed by all of the wonderful, supportive people that surround me.   I had to hold back the tears.  Overwhelmingly loved and blessed.

 



I was able to spend some quality time with friends that I desperately needed, I have personal shoppers that cater to me, I have lots of family time scheduled for the weekend!

Maybe God finally agreed with the memo that I have been sending Him on REPEAT the past couple weeks? I have been praying and telling him for a while now: Enough is enough!

More likely though, I needed the reminder from my friends and family that I am strong enough to handle it. That they love me when I admit that I can't do it all.  And most of all: even when life is hard, I AM BLESSED.

But seriously God, enough is enough! ;)

*Heavy sarcasm.  More than normal Laura sarcasm;)





 

Light-Help-Cup-Far-Roots

 

Light:  Moon on my way in to work

 

HELP: Surprise help from a couple friends.  No, I can't do anything. Aaron's working and I'm not paying for a sitter.  We'll come to you and we'll bang pots and pans together for fun if we need to. 

Cup: Cup of tea...the gift giver does not understand that tension tamer isn't even close to enough to calm me down, but it's the thought that counts;)

Far: We've come far by faith

Roots:

Dream-beloved-home-alone-restore-blessed-rejoice

PHOTO A DAY.  Super busy and too tired to write!  Enjoy the photos!

DREAM:

BELOVED:

HOME:

ALONE:

RESTORE:


BLESSED:

REJOICE: