I saw my oncologist last week and my tumor markers are down slightly (a good thing). Hooray! She prescribed a medication to help prevent my nausea and commiserated with me on how oral chemo would make the gag reflex hypersensitive. It was nice to be validated in that! My red cell count is low, too, which explains why I've been so tired.
I gave her a gift, too. I had some extra time last week, so I made a flow chart of my treatment history. There have been so many scans, surgeries, chemos, etc, and it's impossible to keep everything straight. My chart is color coded (orange for surgery, teal for chemo, etc) and each recurrence is marked with a little explosion icon. I think my information design colleagues at Hornall Anderson would give my elementary efforts a thumbs up.
Next: blood work in a month, CT scan in two months.
Thank you for your prayers - please keep them coming!
My title IS about a story that got interrupted the other day.
It's actually two stories, one new and one old, now woven together. It's one of my favorite cancer stories. I was telling it to two friends, and halfway through a couple other people arrived and we didn't get back to my story, so I thought I'd share it with all of you.
Last year I didn't tell my new student lifegroup that I'm a cancer survivor, because it wasn't a current problem and I was relishing not having cancer as an active issue. Since my recurrence happened weeks before we'd all be at camp together, I debated whether or not to discuss it with them at camp. Several people encouraged me to tell them (after all, it's a powerful testimony), so I made my news available to their parents in case they wanted to tell them ahead of time.
Now, I just needed to find the right moment.
Tuesday afternoon, one of the girls pulled me aside and said, "When are you going to tell us?"
uhhhhh... "Tell you what?" (She could mean anything!)
"YOU know!"
"You mean about my cancer?" (What if that's NOT what she means?? But it was, so I knew I should bite the bullet sooner than later.)
That night, the message was about following God wholeheartedly. And one of our songs was an update of the old classic "I have decided to follow Jesus." What a perfect set up!
So I told them about how I sang that song when I was their age. Back then, we had motions that went with most of the songs. I was the kid in the front row, enthusiastically doing all the motions, as big as possible. Yes, officially, I was a dork. For Jesus, but still, a big dork!
And I told them about how, on camp staff one summer, I sometimes didn't sing the songs because I knew I didn't mean them at the time. (This was probably more about arrogance and mild rebellion than integrity.)
Not long after that, I decided to follow Jesus sincerely. Which has made all the difference as I navigate this life-threatening cancer.
Telling them I have ovarian cancer led to some funny questions. This is one big reason why I love middle-schoolers. They are still willing to ask the peripheral questions some people are afraid to ask.
Like "What's an ovary?"
In a split second, I thought all these things: "Don't they know?! Shouldn't they?! What does their mom want them to know?? But if they're asking, I'm giving them an age-appropriate answer." And - since I'm a nurse - "Yippee! A chance to talk about anatomy and physiology!"
And "So... you don't have your period any more?? LUCKY!"
Haha! This was great because I got to find out where they were at with that - valuable info.
Also: "Is it scary?" (Usually no, occasionally yes.) And a doubtful "Really?!" when I said so much good had come from having cancer. (Answer: YES. Without a doubt.)
I brought it back around with a story from three summers ago.
My first recurrence was in May 2013. I'd had surgery and radiation. The recurrence included the back of my vaginal wall, so that was the area they radiated. Radiation finished the Tuesday before camp, and I was feeling fine, so I went.
Early in the week, I started to feel the burn. Any movement or pressure hurt. It was awful.
At one point, during the worship (singing) portion of evening chapel, Pastor Koby read from Psalm 139, where it says God "knows when we sit down and when we rise up."
I pretty much immediately dissolved into a puddle of tears. And, even three years later, I was so moved by the power of that verse that I was crying again! I thought I'd get through my story without emotion, but there it was.
When I heard it the first time, it spoke to me directly: God knew exactly how I felt and how painful it was for me to sit down and to rise up. Very few other people knew because being in pain Down There wasn't something I wanted to discuss, as you can imagine! I cannot tell you how comforting it was to hear that while I was outwardly hiding my discomfort, God knew every single painful movement.
This year as I'm telling my story, when my tears started to fall, half of my cabin ran over and gave me a big group hug. The other half ran over to hug a girl who had been struggling with a headache all day and started crying when I did. Their loving actions were so sweet.
Here's what my story means for me. For them. For you.
When you're hurting:
God sees it. He knows. He CARES. Really.
Did you know the Bible says God collects every one of our tears in a bottle (Psalm 56:8)?
Photo: I imagine heaven with shelves upon shelves of colorful glass bottles, beautifully backlit,
one for each of us, with every tear ever shed in them.
PC: ottawacollectors.com
When you're hurting:
God remembers it. Eventually, there will be justice.
It might seem to take forever, but your hurt will not be forgotten and there will be an accounting. Deuteronomy 32:35 and Romans 12:19 quote God as saying "Vengeance is mine, I will repay."
Photo: Ever seen an angry cat? I don't think it's too big a stretch
to imagine God has a few on His divine vengeance team.
(I can't explain why I love this photo so much, but I do.
I know I used it just a few weeks ago, but it's totally worthy of re-use.)
You guys. Whatever your struggle is, you are never alone. Whether you feel connected to God or not, He knows all the painful bits and He cares about you. I know it hurts. I know it's horrible to go through. I know it can be lonely. But I also know there can be spots of beauty along the way and beauty and strength on the other side. And remember, Vengeance Cat is cleaning his gun and waiting for his order to shoot!
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