In the book of Matthew, Jesus tells us that we are "the light of the world" and that people should not "light a lamp and put it under a bowl" but rather we should put the light "on a stand" to "give light to the everyone in the house." (Matthew 5:14, 15)
I have always hoped that I did this during my journey through this cancer-ridden battle. I took these scriptures to heart in trying to encourage, uplift, and help those who are like me; those who are dealing with the relentless beast. To bring some small light into a sub-world of fear, pain, sickness, struggle, and confusion. To be a beacon in the night, was more than I could ever pray for, ask for, and hope to accomplish. It is the whole goal of my journal, the true purpose of baring my soul.
But there are times, my friends, when I know you all can sense that my light is dimmer that normal. There are times when I don't write because I am tired of it all, or too busy concentrating on my family and other aspects of my life, or, like the past two weeks, times when I retreat inside myself.....allowing to be pulled toward the darkness.... putting my light under a bowl so no one can see. The past two weeks have been my toughest since stem cell. The past two weeks have been a daze of pain and nausea and dizziness and weakness while my body adjusts to a new treatment plan. It has been both frightening and upsetting. I felt like I have fallen so far so fast into darkness, weakness and despair that it was going to take a miracle to pull me out.
And then I remember the light. The light within me. The light that has always been there. It is a small flicker today, but I know that I am better this day than one week ago. I believe I will be better tomorrow than I am today. Our hope and prayer is that estrogen is going to become my friend, that disease progression will stop without the use of chemo, that I will grow stronger and the light will once again go from a small flame under a bowl to a bright beam on a stand for all to see.
As I navigate my way out of the darkness this time, I will be putting the light back on its stand.
Slowly but surely you and I will begin to see the brightness grow, the flicker become a flame,
the hope return. Forgive me for keeping it hidden these past two weeks. Just know that whether you hear from me or not, the light within me is always there. It's just that sometimes it is hidden by the enormous blackness that we in the fight have to wade through every day.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Time to Bloom
Hey guys,
Sorry for the lack of communication. There has just been too much life going on lately. Good and bad, happy and afraid, proud and deflated, the last two weeks have run the gamut. Oh and then there's tax day.
When I get a call on Friday afternoon and it's Maha, not Janet, it is never a good sign. But she knows that not knowing over the weekend is far worse than hearing that you latest round of chemo....the chemo that has put you in the bed, taken your hair, made your eyes permanent water spouts, taken a fingernail and a toe nail, taken away days of you life because you couldn't get out of bed...THAT chemo...has ceased to do its job and the numbers are on the rise again.
As disappointing as that may seem to most, in a way I was relieved. Relieved to not have to wonder if stopping Taxotere to try the Estrogen manipulation therapy was the right thing. It now became the ONLY thing. Relieved to know that I had a chance to try to help my body recover in any way it could, while I am off chemotherapy. Relieved, for just a while, to have permission to give up the struggle to past 3 months have presented and focus on something new
and maybe tremendously beneficial. Relieved to be able to fight in another way other than just getting through the side effects, being stuck and sick and tired.
Now I am taking three pills a day. Now I will get one IV a month. No we pray harder than ever, because we are again being pioneers in this world of chronic advanced breast cancer. Now is the time of spring, the resurrection, new growth, birthdays, graduations, sunshine on my face, time to bloom.
I wanted to start the pills yesterday, on Easter and also my husband's birthday, but he asked me to wait until today. He wanted a great day with no thought of what we were getting ready to dive into. He wanted to keep his day and Christ's day and a day spent with our daughter and new boyfriend separate from "Day 1" of Estrodial.
So day 1 is today. I am ready. I am hopeful. I am absolutely firm in my trust of the Lord and the plans He has for me, as well as the medical plan that Maha has laid before me. Even so, I ask all of you, as always, pray......without ceasing. Lift me up and keep me strong, my friends. You always have.
"I will sing of the Lord's great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known through the generations.: Psalm 89:1
Sorry for the lack of communication. There has just been too much life going on lately. Good and bad, happy and afraid, proud and deflated, the last two weeks have run the gamut. Oh and then there's tax day.
When I get a call on Friday afternoon and it's Maha, not Janet, it is never a good sign. But she knows that not knowing over the weekend is far worse than hearing that you latest round of chemo....the chemo that has put you in the bed, taken your hair, made your eyes permanent water spouts, taken a fingernail and a toe nail, taken away days of you life because you couldn't get out of bed...THAT chemo...has ceased to do its job and the numbers are on the rise again.
As disappointing as that may seem to most, in a way I was relieved. Relieved to not have to wonder if stopping Taxotere to try the Estrogen manipulation therapy was the right thing. It now became the ONLY thing. Relieved to know that I had a chance to try to help my body recover in any way it could, while I am off chemotherapy. Relieved, for just a while, to have permission to give up the struggle to past 3 months have presented and focus on something new
and maybe tremendously beneficial. Relieved to be able to fight in another way other than just getting through the side effects, being stuck and sick and tired.
Now I am taking three pills a day. Now I will get one IV a month. No we pray harder than ever, because we are again being pioneers in this world of chronic advanced breast cancer. Now is the time of spring, the resurrection, new growth, birthdays, graduations, sunshine on my face, time to bloom.
I wanted to start the pills yesterday, on Easter and also my husband's birthday, but he asked me to wait until today. He wanted a great day with no thought of what we were getting ready to dive into. He wanted to keep his day and Christ's day and a day spent with our daughter and new boyfriend separate from "Day 1" of Estrodial.
So day 1 is today. I am ready. I am hopeful. I am absolutely firm in my trust of the Lord and the plans He has for me, as well as the medical plan that Maha has laid before me. Even so, I ask all of you, as always, pray......without ceasing. Lift me up and keep me strong, my friends. You always have.
"I will sing of the Lord's great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known through the generations.: Psalm 89:1
Thursday, April 2, 2009
This Is What We Do
Stepping off of dry land. Back we go, into unknown waters. Molecular studies have been done on the cancer cells from my lung from the 2004 recurrence. Hi-tech/Sci-Fi print-outs of the make up of the enemy. A lot of information about the enemy. Recognisance run in a lab out in Arizona. We now have a better idea of what the cancer that roams around in my body may or may not respond to. It is fascinating. It is frightening. Such a resistant little devil, is the cancer, to most chemo agents. But not to all. One new name pops up that I have never been on. Some old names come back as surprisingly ineffective when we know it is not so. The real direction of the study, the deconstruction, seems to be hormonal manipulation. Something that was discussed in San Antonio this past December. Something Maha and I had talked about. Something we are going to try.
I seem to be the perfect candidate for this new course of attack. But it will mean stepping away from the chemotherapy and trusting a new theory of re-introducing the enemy to the one thing it craves the most....estrogen. Then we will snatch away the "candy" from the cancer and hit it with an aromitose inhibitor. Stop all the estrogen cold turkey. And like a reformed alcoholic who has fallen off the wagon and been drinking for days on end, when we remove the bottle, take away his precious source of addiction, we hope he (the cancer, of course) will have withdrawal so, so bad, that he just shrivels up and dies. Interesting approach, don't you think?
When I was standing in the office with Maha and chewing on all this stuff, I just kept trying to grasp the concept. Something new. Something that won't tear my body apart bit by bit. Something that will not require an IV infusion once a week. Something that won't make me feel like my bones are on fire, my tongue is splitting in half, my hair won't stay or food tastes like metal. Something different, exciting......scary. So I looked at her for a good 15 seconds. We just stood their looking at each other, nothing more to say. Just the unspoken understanding that I finally put words to. "Well," I said. "This is what we do."
She and I, Maha and Kathy, we will try anything and everything to keep the monster at bay.
I know without a doubt that she always has an ear out for what is new, what may help me, what the next step might be when needed. And she knows that I will be a willing partner, that I will believe in what she believes in when a new treatment starts.
So we are off on another adventure. We are stepping into unknown waters. We are excited, yet cautious. But our hearts are the same, our hopes are the same, and our dreams are the same.
How did I find a doctor like this??? Whenever you doubt about the perfect plans of God. Let me remind you about odd couple at 216 Asheville Ave. The devout Christian patient and the devout
Muslim oncologist. Eight years of standing beside me. It's perfect proof of a perfect plan.
"But those who plan what is good find love and faithfulness." Proverbs 14:22
I seem to be the perfect candidate for this new course of attack. But it will mean stepping away from the chemotherapy and trusting a new theory of re-introducing the enemy to the one thing it craves the most....estrogen. Then we will snatch away the "candy" from the cancer and hit it with an aromitose inhibitor. Stop all the estrogen cold turkey. And like a reformed alcoholic who has fallen off the wagon and been drinking for days on end, when we remove the bottle, take away his precious source of addiction, we hope he (the cancer, of course) will have withdrawal so, so bad, that he just shrivels up and dies. Interesting approach, don't you think?
When I was standing in the office with Maha and chewing on all this stuff, I just kept trying to grasp the concept. Something new. Something that won't tear my body apart bit by bit. Something that will not require an IV infusion once a week. Something that won't make me feel like my bones are on fire, my tongue is splitting in half, my hair won't stay or food tastes like metal. Something different, exciting......scary. So I looked at her for a good 15 seconds. We just stood their looking at each other, nothing more to say. Just the unspoken understanding that I finally put words to. "Well," I said. "This is what we do."
She and I, Maha and Kathy, we will try anything and everything to keep the monster at bay.
I know without a doubt that she always has an ear out for what is new, what may help me, what the next step might be when needed. And she knows that I will be a willing partner, that I will believe in what she believes in when a new treatment starts.
So we are off on another adventure. We are stepping into unknown waters. We are excited, yet cautious. But our hearts are the same, our hopes are the same, and our dreams are the same.
How did I find a doctor like this??? Whenever you doubt about the perfect plans of God. Let me remind you about odd couple at 216 Asheville Ave. The devout Christian patient and the devout
Muslim oncologist. Eight years of standing beside me. It's perfect proof of a perfect plan.
"But those who plan what is good find love and faithfulness." Proverbs 14:22
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