Overcoming Adversity, Part 3

I know you've been waiting on pins and needles for this, the final installment of my Overcoming Adversity talk from MOPS.

If you haven't already, stop and go read Part 1 and Part 2 before you continue. I'll wait.

Okay, here we go...

3. Focus Forward

I could spend a lot of time asking why.

Why me, Lord??? What did I do to deserve this awful diagnosis?

And on a more practical level, why me... what choices did I make with regard to my body and my health, or what have I been exposed to in my lifetime, that could have made my body turn against me like this?

But in reality, those kinds of questions aren't helpful, because the truth is, it doesn't matter why.

Let me say that again.

It
Doesn't
Matter
Why

Knowing why doesn't make me able to suddenly go back and change anything. What matters is, I am HERE, in the midst of this mess, and I don't want to stay HERE.

So instead of wasting my time asking why, and feeling sorry for myself, I choose to focus my energy and my thoughts forward. Here are some more relevant questions I ask myself:

What do I need to do TODAY to get through this? Tomorrow?
What am I going to do with myself when this is all over?
What parts of my life - the good stuff - can I hold onto right now, during the crazy, so that I don't feel robbed?
How can I use this crappy situation to lift others up, and bring glory to God?

Y'all.
Being diagnosed with bc at 33 sucks. I'm not trying to sugar coat that. But by doing these three things -
     Accepting help,
     Watching my inputs, and
     Focusing forward,
I am pretty confident that I'm in a position to walk this journey in the best way I can.

I might have been given a cactus, but I don't have to sit on it!

I will be your God throughout your lifetime, until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and I will save you!

Isaiah 46:4

So, my current status: I finally got my infusion on Friday (attempt #4). My white counts are back up where they need to be, but my platelets are even lower. Off to the hematologist I go on Tuesday, to try and find a cause and/or a solution for this. 

In case you're wondering, platelets are what makes your blood clot, so that you don't bleed out over a minor cut. Mine aren't dangerously low, so I'm not super concerned, but they're trending downward so we've got to reverse that trend before they get too low.

I'm feeling great overall - I'm just about over a bad cold, and the infusion wasn't bad. Radiation is going well - I actually look forward to it because they have a jigsaw puzzle in the waiting room, and I love puzzles!

Overcoming Adversity, Part 2

As promised, here's part 2 of my Overcoming Adversity chat from MOPS. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go back and read Part 1.

2.  Watch your inputs.

I truly believe that whatever you put into yourself, whatever you fill yourself up with, is what is going to come out of you.

Think of a sponge. You put a sponge in plain water and then squeeze, clean water is coming out. You soak a sponge in soapy water, and you're going to get soapy water when you squeeze it. And if you follow that soapy water with a quick dunk in some clean water, and squeeze it again? You're still going to get soapy water.

So for me, that means being pretty strict about what shows I watch, what music I listen to, what I read on Facebook. I'm not saying I only watch G-rated movies. Well, mostly I do, because of the boys. What I'm saying is, you will not catch me watching something that's going to make me cry, even if it's "a good cry" moment at the end of a chick flick, because I've found that that just brings me down too much. There's no This Is Us on my DVR. I'm very diligent about the content I consume on Facebook and just online in general. The "hide post" button is my friend.

Life is too precious to be clouded by sadness, bitterness, anger, and all that other nasty stuff that doesn't even pertain to me, so I filter it out.

Some of my favorite scriptures that I've been leaning on:

Great is our Lord, and abundant in power. His understanding is beyond measure.  Psalm 147:5

Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. 

Ephesians 3:20

I am the Lord, the God of all mankind. Is anything too hard for me? 

Jeremiah 32:27

If you're wondering what's going on with my treatment.... I'm 6 days into radiation, and it's going great. No side effects to speak of, hallelujah. And they have a jigsaw puzzle in the waiting room, which I'm really loving, even if I only get a minute or two to play some days!

My blood work is still a little off, and the doctor I've been seeing is STILL delaying my infusion because of that, which is frustrating. If he delays again, I'm going back to my normal doctor at the medical center. She's not sure why he's delaying it, since these meds don't impact the bloodwork and it's just leftovers from chemo.

Also, I have a cold, and it's the pits, but hopefully I'm on the mend!

I promise to share Part 3 sooner than I got around to posting Part 2... Honestly? I forgot to hit post, woops!

There's Always Something...

Well, I was all set to publish Part 2 of my MOPS talk today, but something came up. There's always something, right?

So yesterday, I was scheduled to receive my Herceptin/Perjeta infusion (second try for this round), but my blood work still wasn't right, so we had to delay it again. The plan is to try again Monday.

I have questions outstanding to my primary oncologist, but that's neither here nor there.

I was SO frustrated when the doctor told me we had to postpone AGAIN. He walked away and, to quote my friend Mrs. Billie, my eyes leaked a bit. Cancer is just so freaking inconvenient, amiright? It just gets in the way of everything.

So, I'm leaving the hospital after my non-infusion. A nice lady asked me which floor I needed on the elevator. Then she asked me how my day was going. I briefly considered complaining, but just said it was alright and asked how hers was. I'll admit, I had kind of a "woe is me" tone to my voice, but I didn't say anything else. 

She reflexively answered that it was fine, or some other semi-positive, non-thinking response we give strangers by default.

Then: My husband is in ICU.

Oh, I'm so sorry, I told her.

She continued: But they took the breathing tube out. He's breathing on his own now.

That's wonderful news, I told her. That's an improvement, a big step!

But there was more to the story: He tried to commit suicide, she continued.

I was absolutely floored. I told her I was so sorry. 

It happens, she said.

As if it was a frequent occurrence.

A non-event.

Forgetting your lunch at home, happens.

Getting a flat tire, happens.

Being late to the dentist, happens.

But your husband attempting suicide? It doesn't just happen.

Except, for her, it happens. I don't know if it has happened before, or if it will happen again. But my goodness, my heart just broke for her. I had no words, and I awkwardly hugged her.

And I realized, more completely than possibly ever before, that there's always, always, always something to be thankful for.

My family is healthy and happy. I am winning this battle, navigating this inconvenient detour in the middle of my own happy, healthy life. I am loved and supported by SO many. My daily needs are met. I could go on and on. There is so so much to be thankful for.

And you know what?

She might have found something to be thankful for as well. "My husband is going to be alright," she might be thinking. "It could be worse: we could be facing cancer, like that poor lady on the elevator."

You never really know what roads others are traveling. And you never know if your road looks better, or worse, than theirs.

But regardless of what road you're on, or where you're at on that road, there is always, always, always something to be thankful for.

Choose to see those things today.

Overcoming Adversity, Part 1

A few weeks ago, I was invited to be a part of a panel of ladies speaking on the topic of Overcoming Adversity at our local MOPS meeting.

If you aren't familiar with MOPS, it's Mothers of Preschoolers, and it's a Christian moms' group where we get together, eat yummy food, hear some uplifting words, maybe do a little craft or service project, and just spend time pouring into each other, and remembering that we don't have to walk this phase of life alone. It's a great group, and I've had the privilege of being a part of this group for five years now, so I was very honored to be asked to speak.

When I received the request, I was elated, and immediately responded that I'd love to speak. Within minutes, I knew exactly what I was going to say, because God is cool like that. Y'all, I'm not a person who enjoys speaking in front of more than about 3 people, and we're talking about 75 ladies. But even so, I was SO excited for the entire month or so between being asked and getting to speak.

I thought it'd be nice to share with you the words I spoke to the mamas at our meeting, because I feel like they were God-given, and they're relevant to you even if you're not fighting the same fight as me. 

So many friends tell me that I'm an inspiration, or they admire my cheerful outlook through my journey. I can be cliche, and tell you that "God is carrying me through." That is so very true, but it's not really the most helpful thing to say, because in reality, it's kind of hard to "just stay focused on God" when your world is turned upside down by an unexpected diagnosis and you suddenly find yourself incapable of living your life in the same way as before.

So instead, I'm going to give you three concrete steps that I have found to be helpful for me. They are:

1. Accept help
2. Watch your inputs
3. Focus forward

I think these are valid things to do when life is chugging merrily along, but when life hits you with the hard stuff, these things become vital to survive. One of my favorite verses that I've leaned on through all of this is about getting into position, and I think these three things put me in the best position for winning this fight.

In 2 Chronicles 20, King Jehoshaphat was surrounded by three different enemies, and facing an unwinnable battle. He called on God's people to pray and fast in preparation for the upcoming fight, and after three days, the prophet said to him:

But you will not even need to fight. Take your positions; then stand still and watch the Lord's victory. He is with you... Do not be afraid or discouraged. Go out against the enemy, for the Lord is with you!

2 Chronicles 20:17

A little disclaimer: I definitely have my down days. Days when I cry, and wallow in my emotions, throw a full on pity party, and just generally feel like I can't fight this fight. But by and large, these are the things I try to do as much as possible to get through this battle.

1. Accept help.

When friends hear that you're going through something, they want to fix it. And sadly, they can't. The next best thing, though, is if they can help make your problem suck a little less.

Think of it this way: when you are the giver of help, whether it's holding the door for a disabled person, or bringing a meal to someone after surgery, how do you feel? Good, right? So when you're the one going through a trial, and you tell your friends no, you don't need anything but thanks for asking, you're robbing them of that feel-good feeling.

There are certain things that only YOU are able to do when you're going through a trial. For me, that's showing up for chemo. For doctor's appointments. For radiation. It's taking care of myself, resting when my body says No More! Taking medicine that helps one thing, but causes it's own issue. I am the only one who can do those things. 

But, like it or not, there are things that are normally a part of my wheelhouse that I can let go of. I am not the only one who can feed my family. Load the dishwasher. Do the laundry. Rock my baby to sleep. I may feel, in my heart of hearts, that I do those things best, because I'm Mama. I know the best way to put the plates in the dishwasher so they get clean and the whole sink full of dishes fits. But, can someone else take over those tasks for a little while, without my interference, and everyone survive? Absolutely. It's okay if the towels are folded differently than I prefer, honest.

So don't be too prideful to accept help when it's offered. And if it's not offered? Speak up about needing a hand. And while you're at it, tell people what is actually helpful for you. People love helping, truly, so give them the opportunity to help you, so that you can focus on what you need to do to get through the battle.

And, because I'm just a little bit mean, you're going to have to come back another day to find out what else I had to say to the lovely MOPS mamas!

Treatment Update

Sorry, it's been a while since I've updated... but I've been feeling great so I  just haven't sat down to write!

I'm back to feeling like a normal human being, now that I'm done with chemo. For some reason, all of my muscles are very sore all the time, like I've just done a hardcore workout, but I haven't. But other than that and no hair, chemo is quickly fading into a distant memory. And my hair is starting to grow back - it never completely fell out, but I've got a 5 o'clock shadow going on where a bunch of new hair is sprouting!

I'm still receiving infusions every 3 weeks, but they're much easier, for 2 reasons. 

1. I'm receiving them at the hospital in Baytown, rather than having to drive into Houston to the medical center. That means less time, and free parking, woohoo! It also means I'm seeing another doctor - Dr. Patel is still coordinating my care, but she doesn't have rights at this hospital yet, so I'm seeing her colleague. He's nice enough. I do still see her occasionally though.

2. The meds I'm receiving are much easier to tolerate. Before, I was receiving 4 drugs, and now I'm just getting 2 of those. So, my body is used to them. Both of them are smart therapies, meaning they target and block the HER2 receptors. I learned last week that the only normal cells in the body with these receptors are breast, heart, and gut cells. So, the main two side effects are digestive woes, which have been MUCH easier to manage than with all 4 meds, and a low risk of a heart issue. That means, I'm getting an echo every 3 months to check my heart valve/pumping function. If they see that there's a problem, then I just take a break from the meds and it will go back to normal, and then I can resume the meds.

I'll be starting radiation next week, and honestly, I'm just ready. Ready to get started so I can get it over with. I'm most concerned about the logistics of driving into Houston every single day. The appointments should be quick - less than 30 minutes - and I'll receive my treatment at a facility that has free parking, so that's nice. I've got a sweet babysitter in my neighborhood that Luke is warming up to visiting, plus a couple of friends who have offered their help as backup sitters.

So, that's what's going on with me right now.

What's Next?

So, it's been nearly 3 weeks since my last chemo infusion (and my last post), and the question I get asked most is: "What's next for you?" So... Here's the scoop.

Maintenance Infusions

I'll continue receiving infusions every 3 weeks, for the remainder of a year. But, they'll be much easier to tolerate.

Up to now, I was receiving 4 meds at each infusion: 2 chemo drugs, and 2 smart drugs. I'll continue receiving just the smart drugs for the remainder of a year. 

All cells, or maybe just all breast cells, have a certain receptor on them called HER2 Receptor. This attracts a protein, also called HER2, which tells the call to divide. Normal cells have 2 or so receptors, but HER2++ c cells have a lot of them, so they attract a lot of the protein, and divide much more rapidly. This makes this type of c more aggressive, but doctors are really smart, and they have medications that block these receptors, essentially turning off the division mechanism. So, if the cells can't divide, the c can't continue to grow and spread. Yay!

Plus, since these meds are so smart, they don't have nearly the amount of side effects that chemo meds have, because they're targeting only the c cells, rather than all fast-growing cells. I'm told I can expect some tummy troubles, but nothing like I've been experiencing. Double yay!

Radiation

Another thing coming up is radiation. I've already met the radiation oncologist, and I'm waiting on insurance to approve my treatment so I can get it scheduled, which should happen maybe this coming week.

The first step in that process (well, second, after my initial consult last week), is a planning appointment. This involves using a CT scan to map out my body and the zones they want to target, plus the nearby organs they want to miss. Then about a week later, I will start receiving the radiation. I'll have 6 weeks of 5 sessions per week. 

They target the entire breast area (because a mastectomy cannot remove 100% of the breast tissue), the armpit (because of that one pesky lymph node) plus another small area nearby that "c likes to go to next if it's going somewhere else."

Side effects should be minimal: 

-Redness that looks like a sunburn, but doesn't hurt.

-Potential skin breakdown, since the skin nearest the incision is very thin and new. If this happens, and I think it's rare, I think we just take a couple days off and be more aggressive with what cream I need to use on the area.

-Some fatigue, more toward the end, but nothing like chemo fatigue.

Some questions I've gotten (or had myself) about radiation:

Q: Is radiation necessary? 

A: It's necessary because with lymph+, hormone+, HER2++ c, the standard of care is surgery, chemo, radiation, hormone therapy. It is a proven treatment, not experimental. 

Q: Do they do a scan of some sort first to see exactly what we are radiating, if there's still c there, etc?

A: The areas areas I talked about above are the standard places to radiate in cases like mine, so they don't need to do a "look for more c" type of scan first.

Q: Is radiation dangerous to other organs, like your lungs?

A: That's what the CT scan is for. It allows them to minimize the radiation to other areas. For example, only 2-3% of the lung, right on the edge, will receive any radiation at all. None will hit my heart, esophagus, or any other important stuff in that area.

Q: How does radiation work, and what's the difference between chemo and radiation?

A: Chemo is medicine that I received by infusion. Picture an IV bag, but instead of a regular needle, it goes into the port in my chest, near my collar bone. (If you ever wanna see it, I can show you. It's not gruesome.) 

Radiation, on the other hand, is like... Laser beams, I guess. They aim the machine at the targeted areas and blast it. It does two things, and I can't take credit for this analogy - it's courtesy of the Radiation PA, who was great at explaining things. So, radiation kills any "seeds" that might be trying to take root in that area. It also changes the environment, making it inhospitable to growing anything new. So kind of like the opposite of fertilizing a garden.

Hormone Therapy

This is a pill for 5 years,  suppresses estrogen and progestin, and that's about all I know about that. I think I start it after I finish the smart drugs, so next summer.

Reconstruction Surgeries

About 6 months after radiation, I'll have my first reconstruction surgery. This involves taking a section of abdominal tissue (think: tummy tuck), and using that to construct a new breast. The procedure is called DIEP Flap Reconstruction, if you care to google, but I probably wouldn't do a lot of googling if I were you. Recovery is about 3 months. 

Then, we will talk about phase two surgery, which will be for symmetry (think: boob job, ha). The recovery for that one is much easier, more like 4-6 weeks or so I think.

Ok, that got really long. If you have more questions about what's next, please ask - I don't mind sharing details!

In the meantime, I may not be posting a whole lot because I'M BUSY FEELING LIKE A PERSON AGAIN!! 

I Rang the Bell!

Today was my final chemo infusion! I still have, I dunno, maybe a year left on my journey to getting fully finished and back to normal life, but chemo is the worst of the process, I think.

A big celebration at infusion centers is to ring a bell, surrounded by nurses and staff cheering for you. It was surreal and magical and a great way to close this chapter.

Beside the Bell is this poem, which I read before ringing.

Ring this bell

Three times well

Its toll to clearly say,

My treatment's done

This course is run

And I am on my way!

I got a little teary halfway through. Dad got a lot teary, but I'm so glad he was here with me!

Here are a few pictures of the day:

 Six treatments, in the books!

Getting ready to ring.

I also got a certificate that says I completed my chemo treatment.

Hugs from Dad, who has always been my biggest cheerleader.

I know I already said so on Facebook, but I couldn't have gotten here without my friends and family giving me SO much help and kindness and support!