"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
It's been a while since I last blogged and there is a reason for that. I'll get to that later. However, since you are a willing bystander, watching my crazy roller coaster of late, I'll start you off with the good news.
First, my baby girl graduated from Pre-K! To say I was a proud momma was an understatement. During graduation, my baby girl walked proudly to the microphone and recited the entire Lord's Prayer from memory! Ok, I'll stop now, but it was awesome! Next, came my husband's baptism. As my daughter put it, "I've been waiting for this, Daddy. It's the best day eveah!" And that it was! This was the first time since surgery that I held my son and we stood proudly behind the bapistry as my husband was baptized on our seven year wedding anniversary. My son was crying and saying "bath" because he wanted to take a "bath" with Daddy and my daughter just wanted to know how many times the preacher was going to "dunk daddy." It was perfect! To say I was a proud wife was an understatement! Praise God for answered prayers! Next, came our seven year anniversary, then Molly's birthday and then the My Little Pony birthday party, complete with a jumpy thing in our backyard. These days have been full of blessings and memories and I thank God every chance I get.
Ok, If that's all you wanted to see of the happy part of this roller coaster ride of mine, you can stop reading now.
In my last blog, I talked about a pancreas scan. I had that done and the nurse called me about another issue and I asked her about the results of the pancreas scan. She said it showed hepatic steatosis. Hepatic steatosis means "fatty" and usually refers to the liver. I assumed since she was discussing my pancreas scan that that meant I had hepatic steatosis of the pancreas. 1) I totally resent the label of "fatty." I flashback to when I was younger and my brother would say "fatty, fatty two by four, can't fit through the bathroom door." I much prefer the label of juvenile. 2) Pancreatic hepatic steatosis is not common and usually means other organs are following suit. 3)Really?!
Finally get the radiologist report a few days later and it says pancreas looks fine and possible hepatic steatosis of liver. Big difference! However, the same report also said my gallbladder looked completely normal with no stones seen. That would be great, except I don't have a gallbladder! So, just as you would have, I took the entire report with a grain of salt. Now, I was completely comfortable in telling myself there was nothing "fatty" about my organs, only juvenile.
My internal doc set up ultrasound of my abdomen and kidneys to see if he could find the reason for my continued high blood pressure. This was last Wednesday, the day my daughter turned 5. I had to leave before she woke up to get tests done, just to come back home and pick up my son and take him to his doctor's appointment. Thank the good Lord for my parents. My dad took my daughter on a "date" to the boardwalk and spoiled her rotten for me. Thanks, dad.
Anyway, I have learned to read ultrasound techs. I can tell when they see something abnormal and when everything looks routine and normal to them. I was watching my tech's face while he was doing the abdominal ultrasound and all was fine for a while. Then he stopped. Then he stayed in one area for a while. Then, and this completely shocked me, he said he found something on my liver and he would show me in just a minute. After I got past the shock of the tech actually talking to me and telling me something, I thought, oh great, he's gonna call my liver "fatty" and I'm gonna get offended all over again.
After a few more minutes, he turned the screen around and pointed out a mass on my liver. A little over 2 cm solid mass on my liver. He said he would get it to the radiologist immediately and my doctor should have the report by that afternoon.
I didn't want to tell everybody, which is why I haven't blogged before now. I'm like the boy who cried wolf, except I'm the girl who cried cancer. twice. in one month. Sheesh. I have to tell someone, so I call a friend of mine and after I tell her and laugh at the craziness of it all, she says, "Well, you seem to be taking it well." Well, I thought, God has brought me this far, and he's not letting go now. After I get home and do some research, I realize that almost all liver masses are benign. This is great news, so hopefully not another cancer scare. However, it seems all types of benign liver masses usually need to be removed, except one. I pray and pray that that is the type of mass mine will be. I really, really, don't want another surgery.
After waiting around most of the next morning to hear from my doctor, I finally call just for them to tell me he is on vacation and won't be back until next week. I leave a message for the nurse. She calls me back and says the radiologist said the mass on my liver is probably a hemangioma and my doctor will be calling me next week to set up more tests just to make sure. Hemangioma! Whew! More answered prayers, folks! Hemangioma is the only type of solid liver mass that usually doesn't have to be removed! Praise to God Almighty!
So, today is the day before I hear from my doctor as to what the next step will be in this roller coaster journey. Today is the day I am still counting my blessings. Today is the day I am officially tired of the tests. I just don't want any more bad news. However, it is almost one year since I began having hives. Every day (except for two weeks) I wake up to hives. Today, they were a little worse. Today, I wasn't able to fully enjoy our family outing to Cypress Black Bayou because of the hives. Today, I realize I must keep pushing. I must keep testing. Today, I have to have faith that God is leading the doctors to the answer. Today, I know my roller coaster ride isn't over yet, but I know who is at the controls.
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
Monday, May 30, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
that I have more tests, but I'm thinking about playing ball.
"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is also the day after I had more tests done and the day before I will have more tests done. As my doctor so delicately put it, "You have the blood pressure of a 85 year old man." I wanted to stick my tongue out and say, "Nu, Uh! I had a juvenile fibroadenoma!" I am holding on to that juvenile classification, in case you couldn't tell. So, my internal doctor is doing a workup to find the root of this sudden high blood pressure. Leave it to me to never have high blood pressure and then have 165/108. So, yesterday I had more tests.
Today, I get a letter from my oncologist. He has me set up for a high powered ultrasound of my pancreas. In the morning. Today, I feel that fear creeping back in. Today I begin to quiz my husband again. Today I learn that apparently there have been some cases, although rare, where hives have been associated with some pancreatic malignancies. However, today, I feel as though he is just doing this as a courtesy to my husband. Today, I put the fear aside. Today, I know that each step these doctors take are being led by God and everything they do is for a reason. Today, I feel we will rule out all the really bad stuff (like cancer) and then get to the not so bad root of the hives and high blood pressure. Today, I will concentrate on baseball. Yes, I said baseball. Wee ball, to be exact.
My 4 year old daughter decided to play ball this year. Wee ball. This is my first experience with wee ball. Tee ball, I've seen, not wee ball. Wee ball is hilarious. In case you didn't know, in wee ball, there are no outs, no one keeps score and no one wins or loses. So how is this playing ball, you say? Well, best as I can figure out, it teaches them the fundamentals of playing ball. They now know how to hit off a tee, how to throw, how to catch and how to run the bases, well, sort of. In wee ball, everyone helps everyone. If there is a kid up to bat that can't or won't hit the ball, one of the coaches helps them hit the ball. If there is a kid that won't run the bases, I have seen coaches physically pick up the child and carry them around the bases! If the ball is going to go outside of the bases, the coaches stop the ball with their foot so the child can get to it easier. As Molly's coach put it, "It's like herding cats." Anyway, as I was sitting there watching my daughter's wee ball game Saturday and laughing, it hit me. I have been playing wee ball with God!
Today I realized how much God is leading me toward a bigger goal, a purpose, a bigger game. Today, I realize I have been playing wee ball with God. He gave me my Christian uniform, he suited me up. He gave me all my protective gear to get into the game. Today, I realize that, for years I have been that shy little 3-4 year old Christian. He had to lead me to the plate. Not ready for the ball to be pitched to me, He set me up. He let me use the tee. He made it easy. I have made it hard. I finally hit the ball a few times, taking advantage of the God-given set up of life that was handed to me.
He knows where I need to go and leads me toward the bases, sometimes, dragging me there. Today, I have realized that I have learned the fundamentals of being a Christian, the basics, but I know I'm now too old for wee ball. I know I have had the rule book for quite some time now and pick it up and thumb through it and study passages here and there, but reading The Good Book in its entirety, I have not done. Today, I realize it's time. Time to move on to a much bigger game. God just hit one out of the park for me!!! It's the perfect set up to take off on my closer walk with God. With His lead, run where he wants me to go. Be ready for the fast balls life will throw. I picture God, my awesome coach, handing me my hot pink helmet and saying, "Play ball."
Today, I realize God knows the ending. Just like He knew the beginning. My coach has prepared and is continuing to prepare me for this game. I've taken a few hits, but I know it's part of the game, part of the bigger plan. God has led me here. I can only pray that my heart and mind will be open enough to listen to His coaching and I can play the best game I know how.
God put this passage in front of me on Sunday.
"For all things are for your sakes, that the abundant grace might through the thanksgiving of many rebound to the glory of God. For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 2 Corinthians 4: 15-17.
God has put these afflictions in my path. He has a reason. I have full faith that none of these afflictions are to cause harm, but to serve a purpose in the big game. Not wee ball anymore. This will make me a better player, a better Christian, just as long as I listen to my Coach.
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is also the day after I had more tests done and the day before I will have more tests done. As my doctor so delicately put it, "You have the blood pressure of a 85 year old man." I wanted to stick my tongue out and say, "Nu, Uh! I had a juvenile fibroadenoma!" I am holding on to that juvenile classification, in case you couldn't tell. So, my internal doctor is doing a workup to find the root of this sudden high blood pressure. Leave it to me to never have high blood pressure and then have 165/108. So, yesterday I had more tests.
Today, I get a letter from my oncologist. He has me set up for a high powered ultrasound of my pancreas. In the morning. Today, I feel that fear creeping back in. Today I begin to quiz my husband again. Today I learn that apparently there have been some cases, although rare, where hives have been associated with some pancreatic malignancies. However, today, I feel as though he is just doing this as a courtesy to my husband. Today, I put the fear aside. Today, I know that each step these doctors take are being led by God and everything they do is for a reason. Today, I feel we will rule out all the really bad stuff (like cancer) and then get to the not so bad root of the hives and high blood pressure. Today, I will concentrate on baseball. Yes, I said baseball. Wee ball, to be exact.
My 4 year old daughter decided to play ball this year. Wee ball. This is my first experience with wee ball. Tee ball, I've seen, not wee ball. Wee ball is hilarious. In case you didn't know, in wee ball, there are no outs, no one keeps score and no one wins or loses. So how is this playing ball, you say? Well, best as I can figure out, it teaches them the fundamentals of playing ball. They now know how to hit off a tee, how to throw, how to catch and how to run the bases, well, sort of. In wee ball, everyone helps everyone. If there is a kid up to bat that can't or won't hit the ball, one of the coaches helps them hit the ball. If there is a kid that won't run the bases, I have seen coaches physically pick up the child and carry them around the bases! If the ball is going to go outside of the bases, the coaches stop the ball with their foot so the child can get to it easier. As Molly's coach put it, "It's like herding cats." Anyway, as I was sitting there watching my daughter's wee ball game Saturday and laughing, it hit me. I have been playing wee ball with God!
Today I realized how much God is leading me toward a bigger goal, a purpose, a bigger game. Today, I realize I have been playing wee ball with God. He gave me my Christian uniform, he suited me up. He gave me all my protective gear to get into the game. Today, I realize that, for years I have been that shy little 3-4 year old Christian. He had to lead me to the plate. Not ready for the ball to be pitched to me, He set me up. He let me use the tee. He made it easy. I have made it hard. I finally hit the ball a few times, taking advantage of the God-given set up of life that was handed to me.
He knows where I need to go and leads me toward the bases, sometimes, dragging me there. Today, I have realized that I have learned the fundamentals of being a Christian, the basics, but I know I'm now too old for wee ball. I know I have had the rule book for quite some time now and pick it up and thumb through it and study passages here and there, but reading The Good Book in its entirety, I have not done. Today, I realize it's time. Time to move on to a much bigger game. God just hit one out of the park for me!!! It's the perfect set up to take off on my closer walk with God. With His lead, run where he wants me to go. Be ready for the fast balls life will throw. I picture God, my awesome coach, handing me my hot pink helmet and saying, "Play ball."
Today, I realize God knows the ending. Just like He knew the beginning. My coach has prepared and is continuing to prepare me for this game. I've taken a few hits, but I know it's part of the game, part of the bigger plan. God has led me here. I can only pray that my heart and mind will be open enough to listen to His coaching and I can play the best game I know how.
God put this passage in front of me on Sunday.
"For all things are for your sakes, that the abundant grace might through the thanksgiving of many rebound to the glory of God. For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 2 Corinthians 4: 15-17.
God has put these afflictions in my path. He has a reason. I have full faith that none of these afflictions are to cause harm, but to serve a purpose in the big game. Not wee ball anymore. This will make me a better player, a better Christian, just as long as I listen to my Coach.
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
Saturday, May 14, 2011
...I almost cracked, and so did mom.
"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is the day I am more thankful than ever for my sweet mother! She got here on Monday and isn't leaving until today, Friday. She has cooked, cleaned, taken care of the kids and me this whole week. She has been awesome, but I think she has almost had enough. She actually started counting to Molly. Not as in teaching her to count but as in, "Molly Jewel Lawton!!! Alright, OOONNNNNEEEE, TWWWOOOO...." well, you get the picture. Sweet Nana had to put the smack down. Yep, she's about had it.
Today is the day I decided I wasn't going to take any more stinking pain pills. Yep, it still hurt, but it's been a week. I'm good. Really bad timing, because today is also the day we have to take my 14 month old to the urologist. The appointment is in the afternoon, during his naptime. So by the time we get there, I'm hurting, Mom's about had it, and Campbell is very fussy and wants a nap. Not good. I can't hold him or lay beside him during the 30 minute ultrasound. Today is the day my poor mother had to carry the diaper bag and my large child, and comfort him. Everything I should be doing. I know to everyone I looked like such a slacker mom. I could feel the stares of the women as they glared at me and gave my mom a sympathetic look as she was wrestling my child while I sat and watched. Today is the longest appointment ever! Today I was told my little man needed surgery. Today, this was almost too much. Today, I almost cracked. I hurt. Physically, yes, I was hurting quite a bit by now, but I hurt for my baby. No mom ever wants to hear that their baby has to have surgery. I call Brian. We decide we need a second opinion.
Today is the day my Mom almost cracked, too. In the car on the way home, we sighed. She was worn out. She thought last week her daughter had cancer, and has spent the last week taking care of her daughter and two kids and now her youngest grandbaby was going to have to have surgery. We looked at each other. I said, "This sucks." She said, "Yep." Then we both say what we always say, "But in the scheme of things, this is nothing and it will all be okay." Then we begin to laugh. At what, I'm not sure. Yep, I think we have cracked.
Today, when we got home, Brian was home, so I took a pain pill, and my mom packed her stuff and left my driveway in record time. Today, my mom and I are both fine. Her hair is falling out and my blood pressure is through the roof, but we are fine. Lol! Seriously, we know God has it all under control. I love my momma!
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is the day I am more thankful than ever for my sweet mother! She got here on Monday and isn't leaving until today, Friday. She has cooked, cleaned, taken care of the kids and me this whole week. She has been awesome, but I think she has almost had enough. She actually started counting to Molly. Not as in teaching her to count but as in, "Molly Jewel Lawton!!! Alright, OOONNNNNEEEE, TWWWOOOO...." well, you get the picture. Sweet Nana had to put the smack down. Yep, she's about had it.
Today is the day I decided I wasn't going to take any more stinking pain pills. Yep, it still hurt, but it's been a week. I'm good. Really bad timing, because today is also the day we have to take my 14 month old to the urologist. The appointment is in the afternoon, during his naptime. So by the time we get there, I'm hurting, Mom's about had it, and Campbell is very fussy and wants a nap. Not good. I can't hold him or lay beside him during the 30 minute ultrasound. Today is the day my poor mother had to carry the diaper bag and my large child, and comfort him. Everything I should be doing. I know to everyone I looked like such a slacker mom. I could feel the stares of the women as they glared at me and gave my mom a sympathetic look as she was wrestling my child while I sat and watched. Today is the longest appointment ever! Today I was told my little man needed surgery. Today, this was almost too much. Today, I almost cracked. I hurt. Physically, yes, I was hurting quite a bit by now, but I hurt for my baby. No mom ever wants to hear that their baby has to have surgery. I call Brian. We decide we need a second opinion.
Today is the day my Mom almost cracked, too. In the car on the way home, we sighed. She was worn out. She thought last week her daughter had cancer, and has spent the last week taking care of her daughter and two kids and now her youngest grandbaby was going to have to have surgery. We looked at each other. I said, "This sucks." She said, "Yep." Then we both say what we always say, "But in the scheme of things, this is nothing and it will all be okay." Then we begin to laugh. At what, I'm not sure. Yep, I think we have cracked.
Today, when we got home, Brian was home, so I took a pain pill, and my mom packed her stuff and left my driveway in record time. Today, my mom and I are both fine. Her hair is falling out and my blood pressure is through the roof, but we are fine. Lol! Seriously, we know God has it all under control. I love my momma!
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
...that I saw cancer.
"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is also the day I had my follow-up appointment with my surgeon. This is the day I saw cancer. Not on my chart. Not on my scans. Not on my pathology report.
I saw cancer. It was the woman about my age with a cute grey cap covering her balding head that was eating a sack lunch with her two kids in front of the cancer clinic. It was the little boy, who couldn't have been more than 12, that could barely hold his head up. He was being pushed in a wheelchair by his parents; his pale, white arm outstretched and strapped to a board where his IV was. It was the family leaning on each other crying after the doctor came out and told them news about their loved one. I can only assume the news was cancer.
It's all I can do to keep from crying as I watch all this cancer. This is just one day. This is just one clinic. I hate cancer. Today, I wish there was some way I could fight cancer. This time last week, I thought I had cancer. I was prepared to fight. I was ready to kick cancer's backside. Today, I am so thankful I do not have cancer, but now, how do I fight cancer? What can we do to fight cancer? Today, I begin my prayers with asking God help me find a way to fight cancer.
Today, after sitting here watching all this cancer, I begin to get a little nervous. I know the pathology results came back benign, but is that it? Am I really done with all this? They finally call me back. From what I understood of the doctor's fast-talking medical language, my mass was classified as a strange sort of Juvenile Fibroadenoma. I like the sound of juvenile. I didn't think I still could be put in that category. All the sections of the mass that were sent off were benign. Great news! I don't need to come see him for six months, when he wants me to have another ultrasound and mammogram to make sure nothing has grown back or they didn't miss anything. But, in the meantime, he still wants to run a few more precautionary tests. Hmmm. Today I wonder what he's looking for. Today I wonder if my husband wasn't a surgical resident, if he would be doing any further testing.
Today is also the day the doctor addressed my issue of high blood pressure. What?!? You just classified me as juvenile and now you say I've got high blood pressure?!? Apparently, during surgery and after, my blood pressure was really high. Today, at this appointment, my BP was high. I have never had high blood pressure! Before surgery, and many times before, they had to lay me down to even get a BP reading. Now, since the surgery, I have high blood pressure. That would explain the headaches and pounding in my head since surgery. Today, we begin the quest of finding the root of the sudden onset of crazy high blood pressure. Today, I say it's stress. Today, my mind knows I don't have cancer, but I think my body hasn't gotten the message yet. Today, high blood pressure is laughable after what I thought I had. Today, it's nothing after what I saw. Today, I saw cancer. I will never forget.
Today, after my husband got home, I told him as best as I could, what the doctor said. Today, my husband told me about his day. Today, he had to tell a family their loved one had cancer. I really hate cancer.
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is also the day I had my follow-up appointment with my surgeon. This is the day I saw cancer. Not on my chart. Not on my scans. Not on my pathology report.
I saw cancer. It was the woman about my age with a cute grey cap covering her balding head that was eating a sack lunch with her two kids in front of the cancer clinic. It was the little boy, who couldn't have been more than 12, that could barely hold his head up. He was being pushed in a wheelchair by his parents; his pale, white arm outstretched and strapped to a board where his IV was. It was the family leaning on each other crying after the doctor came out and told them news about their loved one. I can only assume the news was cancer.
It's all I can do to keep from crying as I watch all this cancer. This is just one day. This is just one clinic. I hate cancer. Today, I wish there was some way I could fight cancer. This time last week, I thought I had cancer. I was prepared to fight. I was ready to kick cancer's backside. Today, I am so thankful I do not have cancer, but now, how do I fight cancer? What can we do to fight cancer? Today, I begin my prayers with asking God help me find a way to fight cancer.
Today, after sitting here watching all this cancer, I begin to get a little nervous. I know the pathology results came back benign, but is that it? Am I really done with all this? They finally call me back. From what I understood of the doctor's fast-talking medical language, my mass was classified as a strange sort of Juvenile Fibroadenoma. I like the sound of juvenile. I didn't think I still could be put in that category. All the sections of the mass that were sent off were benign. Great news! I don't need to come see him for six months, when he wants me to have another ultrasound and mammogram to make sure nothing has grown back or they didn't miss anything. But, in the meantime, he still wants to run a few more precautionary tests. Hmmm. Today I wonder what he's looking for. Today I wonder if my husband wasn't a surgical resident, if he would be doing any further testing.
Today is also the day the doctor addressed my issue of high blood pressure. What?!? You just classified me as juvenile and now you say I've got high blood pressure?!? Apparently, during surgery and after, my blood pressure was really high. Today, at this appointment, my BP was high. I have never had high blood pressure! Before surgery, and many times before, they had to lay me down to even get a BP reading. Now, since the surgery, I have high blood pressure. That would explain the headaches and pounding in my head since surgery. Today, we begin the quest of finding the root of the sudden onset of crazy high blood pressure. Today, I say it's stress. Today, my mind knows I don't have cancer, but I think my body hasn't gotten the message yet. Today, high blood pressure is laughable after what I thought I had. Today, it's nothing after what I saw. Today, I saw cancer. I will never forget.
Today, after my husband got home, I told him as best as I could, what the doctor said. Today, my husband told me about his day. Today, he had to tell a family their loved one had cancer. I really hate cancer.
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
The results are in!
"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is the day I felt better. This is the day I took a shower and washed and fixed my own hair. This is the day I thought I had two more days to wait for the official pathology results to come back.
This is the day my dear husband called me with news. Apparently he had tried to call me three times and I didn't hear my phone ring. My mom's phone rang and she handed it to me. Brian never calls me during the day. "Are you ok?" he said. I ask him the same thing. He never calls my mom's phone. "What's wrong?"
"Well, Dr. Li called me and he got the final pathology results back. It shows fibroadenoma. It's benign."
Seriously? Well, we were pretty sure this was the case, but now it's for real! The "highly suspicious probably cancerous" mass that has invaded and altered my life for the past few weeks has an official name, and it's not a duck! Benign. Fibroadenoma.
Benign.
Wow! God is good. God worked a miracle. God gets all the glory, honor and praise! Now, some may want to explain this away as a strange form of fibroadenoma, but I know better. If you research fibroadenoma (and I have), my mass had many more characteristics of cancer than fibroadenoma. My mass was larger than most fibroadenomas (4.15 cm across). My mass was greatly lobulated (the more lobulation, the higher risk of cancer). My mass was calcified in places (another sign of cancer). My mass was spiculated (had fingers coming out of it; huge cancer sign). My mass had more characteristics of cancer than fibroadenoma. But my mass never had a chance. My God handled my mass. My God turned my mass into a fibroadenoma and made it benign. My God has a plan for my life. I will return the favor the best I can. I am totally unworthy of this awesome miracle.
Now my hubby can get me a real Mother's Day present. J/K! We were so sure this was cancer, that we decided we would spend the weekend in Natchitoches or somewhere to just get away by ourselves before I had to start chemo and radiation. Because of the size of the mass, if it were cancer, there would have definitely been chemo and radiation. Oh, we of little faith!?!? My God took care of all that. And, no, he doesn't really have to get me anything. Material things mean a lot less now. God gave me my life. God gave me more days with my family and friends. I received the best Mother's Day gift anyone could ever ask for - an official name for my "highly suspicious" mass. God named it for me. Wow!
Now, next step is to remove the stitches. I am so ready to pick up my baby, but I know my 28 lb chunk will wait. I have time. I just hate my mom has to stay with me to take care of him. But, today, I am really enjoying this time with my mom.
Next step after this is to have a few more tests ran. I'm still having hives. 11 months now. Thought we had it traced to a thyroid issue, hives went away for two weeks, and then came back with a vengeance. So now I try a new immunosuppressant drug and get tested for other cancers. There have been some studies that relate chronic hives with a malignancy somewhere in the body, so I have to get a few organs checked just to make sure. But, after all this, I'm no longer worried. I know God has it covered. I think He has proven that to me and then some.
Just think, if God Almighty cares this much about little ol Krissy from Shongaloo, think how much He care for you! Please take this testimony to heart. He heard your prayers. He loves you! Try a closer walk with Him and just see what miracles He can work in your life! That, and a self breast exam. Don't forget that ;)
Today I am thankful beyond words. Thankful for my miracle. I would like to say thank you to all of you who prayed for us, all of the kind and thoughtful words, cards, phone calls and messages. Thank you to my dear sweet brother and sister-in-law, Amanda and Kristi. I leaned on y'all probably more than I should have. I know I scared the poo out of you. Sorry bout that. Thank you for listening. Thank you for being my rocks!
Thank you Ms. Debbie for the beautiful Prayer Shawl. Thank you Ms. Linda for the wonderful inspirational book and bookmark. Thank you, Gracanne for the delicious seafood casserole! Thank you Union Springs Baptist Church in Shongaloo.Thank you First Baptist Church Haughton for the outpouring of prayers and support for our little family that was so new to your church. I am overwhelmed.
Thank you friends and family. God heard your prayers. I felt your prayers. I am eternally grateful.
This is the day... I begin the rest of my life. This is the day! Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice!
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is the day I felt better. This is the day I took a shower and washed and fixed my own hair. This is the day I thought I had two more days to wait for the official pathology results to come back.
This is the day my dear husband called me with news. Apparently he had tried to call me three times and I didn't hear my phone ring. My mom's phone rang and she handed it to me. Brian never calls me during the day. "Are you ok?" he said. I ask him the same thing. He never calls my mom's phone. "What's wrong?"
"Well, Dr. Li called me and he got the final pathology results back. It shows fibroadenoma. It's benign."
Seriously? Well, we were pretty sure this was the case, but now it's for real! The "highly suspicious probably cancerous" mass that has invaded and altered my life for the past few weeks has an official name, and it's not a duck! Benign. Fibroadenoma.
Benign.
Wow! God is good. God worked a miracle. God gets all the glory, honor and praise! Now, some may want to explain this away as a strange form of fibroadenoma, but I know better. If you research fibroadenoma (and I have), my mass had many more characteristics of cancer than fibroadenoma. My mass was larger than most fibroadenomas (4.15 cm across). My mass was greatly lobulated (the more lobulation, the higher risk of cancer). My mass was calcified in places (another sign of cancer). My mass was spiculated (had fingers coming out of it; huge cancer sign). My mass had more characteristics of cancer than fibroadenoma. But my mass never had a chance. My God handled my mass. My God turned my mass into a fibroadenoma and made it benign. My God has a plan for my life. I will return the favor the best I can. I am totally unworthy of this awesome miracle.
Now my hubby can get me a real Mother's Day present. J/K! We were so sure this was cancer, that we decided we would spend the weekend in Natchitoches or somewhere to just get away by ourselves before I had to start chemo and radiation. Because of the size of the mass, if it were cancer, there would have definitely been chemo and radiation. Oh, we of little faith!?!? My God took care of all that. And, no, he doesn't really have to get me anything. Material things mean a lot less now. God gave me my life. God gave me more days with my family and friends. I received the best Mother's Day gift anyone could ever ask for - an official name for my "highly suspicious" mass. God named it for me. Wow!
Now, next step is to remove the stitches. I am so ready to pick up my baby, but I know my 28 lb chunk will wait. I have time. I just hate my mom has to stay with me to take care of him. But, today, I am really enjoying this time with my mom.
Next step after this is to have a few more tests ran. I'm still having hives. 11 months now. Thought we had it traced to a thyroid issue, hives went away for two weeks, and then came back with a vengeance. So now I try a new immunosuppressant drug and get tested for other cancers. There have been some studies that relate chronic hives with a malignancy somewhere in the body, so I have to get a few organs checked just to make sure. But, after all this, I'm no longer worried. I know God has it covered. I think He has proven that to me and then some.
Just think, if God Almighty cares this much about little ol Krissy from Shongaloo, think how much He care for you! Please take this testimony to heart. He heard your prayers. He loves you! Try a closer walk with Him and just see what miracles He can work in your life! That, and a self breast exam. Don't forget that ;)
Today I am thankful beyond words. Thankful for my miracle. I would like to say thank you to all of you who prayed for us, all of the kind and thoughtful words, cards, phone calls and messages. Thank you to my dear sweet brother and sister-in-law, Amanda and Kristi. I leaned on y'all probably more than I should have. I know I scared the poo out of you. Sorry bout that. Thank you for listening. Thank you for being my rocks!
Thank you Ms. Debbie for the beautiful Prayer Shawl. Thank you Ms. Linda for the wonderful inspirational book and bookmark. Thank you, Gracanne for the delicious seafood casserole! Thank you Union Springs Baptist Church in Shongaloo.Thank you First Baptist Church Haughton for the outpouring of prayers and support for our little family that was so new to your church. I am overwhelmed.
Thank you friends and family. God heard your prayers. I felt your prayers. I am eternally grateful.
This is the day... I begin the rest of my life. This is the day! Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice!
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
Sunday, May 8, 2011
...48 hrs post surgery & Mother's Day
"... that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalms 118:24
This is also the best Mother's Day I've ever had. This is the day i enjoyed every tiny moment with my family. This is the day I finally get to take a shower. This is the day I ripped the bandage off.
Yesterday was a good day. I felt better than I expected to feel. I can move my right arm a lot more than I thought I would. But I'm still in a fog. I'm still saying over and over "I don't have cancer." I still trying to convince myself. I can't sleep. This is especially strange because of the pain meds. When I do dose off, in my dreams I'm telling people I have cancer. In my dreams, the doctors are telling me I have cancer. I wake up sweating. Nope, can't sleep. Well, that and the fact I have a mentally handicapped mocking bird that sat outside my bedroom window and sang to me beginning at 11:30 p.m. and finally ending his concert at 5 a.m. This might make me reconsider my husband's plea to get Molly a BB gun for her birthday. I digress...
Today is a little worse in the pain department, but that's to be expected. Today is supposed to be the worst day, then better every day. Today, it feels like there are bricks sitting on my chest and that my right arm weighs 20 lbs. But, today is Mother's Day. This makes it better! Today, I woke up with hives (esp under the tight support bra) so I had to take steroids with my pain pill so I had to eat breakfast. My sweet husband drove to Waffle House and brought me my Mother's Day breakfast on the couch! So sweet!
Today I sat on the couch and watched my little family through the window. Brian had the kids in the backyard in their pjs working on my present. I almost start to cry as I see how tiny my babies are and how they are working so hard on a present for me. Today I was the receipient of the best Mother's Day present ever. Today I got a handmade stepping stone decorated with a half pink, half red heart with jewels! Today, I let myself cry.
Today, I was determined to go to church to praise God for this miracle He has given me. Today, I'm scared I overdid it yesterday, am hurting, and decide to stay at home while my sweet husband and kids go without me. Today, the preacher shared my miracle with the church that has been praying so hard for me. Today, Molly refused to go to her class. Today, Brian walks in the door from church with this very unpleasant look on his face. Today, my precious babies tried his patience. I laugh. Today, I realize just how much my babies (all 3 of them) need me.
Today, it's been 48 hours since they removed a mass larger than a golf ball from my breast. This is the day I can take a shower. This is the day I take my bandage off. Well, I can't do it. I make Brian do it. The bandage isn't very big, but as he peels it off, I look down at the ugly red line. I'm gonna be sick. The last piece of tape is stuck to the long end of a stitch. Just do it. I got this. Oooowwww. The nausea passes and I stare at it in the mirror. It ain't pretty, but I still have my breast. It's definitely gonna leave a good scar, but that's ok. The events of this week have left their mark on my heart and soul, so it's only fitting to have an external scar. I will heal. The scar will heal. Today, I saw how my body will be changed from all this. Today I realized this external change is matching an internal change. God has a purpose for saving my life.
As happy, excited and relieved as I am to have recieved such a miracle this week, today I can't help but be a little sad. This week, I did not have to hear the words, "you have cancer." But every 3 minutes, someone DID hear those words. Today, a mom is treasuring her Mother's Day because she is battling breast cancer and is scared. Today, a daughter, sister, mother, aunt, neighbor, grandmother is deciding on treatment options to battle their breast cancer so they can see another Mother's Day.
So, there is no better day than today to do your self breast exam! When you wish your family and friends a Happy Mother's Day, tell them to do a self breast exam. Early detection is the key! So come on ladies, together we can kick breast cancer in the backside and help our sisters celebrate more Mother's days.
This is the day I celebrate my best Mother's Day ever.
This is also the best Mother's Day I've ever had. This is the day i enjoyed every tiny moment with my family. This is the day I finally get to take a shower. This is the day I ripped the bandage off.
Yesterday was a good day. I felt better than I expected to feel. I can move my right arm a lot more than I thought I would. But I'm still in a fog. I'm still saying over and over "I don't have cancer." I still trying to convince myself. I can't sleep. This is especially strange because of the pain meds. When I do dose off, in my dreams I'm telling people I have cancer. In my dreams, the doctors are telling me I have cancer. I wake up sweating. Nope, can't sleep. Well, that and the fact I have a mentally handicapped mocking bird that sat outside my bedroom window and sang to me beginning at 11:30 p.m. and finally ending his concert at 5 a.m. This might make me reconsider my husband's plea to get Molly a BB gun for her birthday. I digress...
Today is a little worse in the pain department, but that's to be expected. Today is supposed to be the worst day, then better every day. Today, it feels like there are bricks sitting on my chest and that my right arm weighs 20 lbs. But, today is Mother's Day. This makes it better! Today, I woke up with hives (esp under the tight support bra) so I had to take steroids with my pain pill so I had to eat breakfast. My sweet husband drove to Waffle House and brought me my Mother's Day breakfast on the couch! So sweet!
Today I sat on the couch and watched my little family through the window. Brian had the kids in the backyard in their pjs working on my present. I almost start to cry as I see how tiny my babies are and how they are working so hard on a present for me. Today I was the receipient of the best Mother's Day present ever. Today I got a handmade stepping stone decorated with a half pink, half red heart with jewels! Today, I let myself cry.
Today, I was determined to go to church to praise God for this miracle He has given me. Today, I'm scared I overdid it yesterday, am hurting, and decide to stay at home while my sweet husband and kids go without me. Today, the preacher shared my miracle with the church that has been praying so hard for me. Today, Molly refused to go to her class. Today, Brian walks in the door from church with this very unpleasant look on his face. Today, my precious babies tried his patience. I laugh. Today, I realize just how much my babies (all 3 of them) need me.
Today, it's been 48 hours since they removed a mass larger than a golf ball from my breast. This is the day I can take a shower. This is the day I take my bandage off. Well, I can't do it. I make Brian do it. The bandage isn't very big, but as he peels it off, I look down at the ugly red line. I'm gonna be sick. The last piece of tape is stuck to the long end of a stitch. Just do it. I got this. Oooowwww. The nausea passes and I stare at it in the mirror. It ain't pretty, but I still have my breast. It's definitely gonna leave a good scar, but that's ok. The events of this week have left their mark on my heart and soul, so it's only fitting to have an external scar. I will heal. The scar will heal. Today, I saw how my body will be changed from all this. Today I realized this external change is matching an internal change. God has a purpose for saving my life.
As happy, excited and relieved as I am to have recieved such a miracle this week, today I can't help but be a little sad. This week, I did not have to hear the words, "you have cancer." But every 3 minutes, someone DID hear those words. Today, a mom is treasuring her Mother's Day because she is battling breast cancer and is scared. Today, a daughter, sister, mother, aunt, neighbor, grandmother is deciding on treatment options to battle their breast cancer so they can see another Mother's Day.
So, there is no better day than today to do your self breast exam! When you wish your family and friends a Happy Mother's Day, tell them to do a self breast exam. Early detection is the key! So come on ladies, together we can kick breast cancer in the backside and help our sisters celebrate more Mother's days.
This is the day I celebrate my best Mother's Day ever.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
This is the day... (day of surgery)
"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is also the day of surgery. Mom and Dad arrive at my house to pick me up in the wee hours of the morning. The ride to Feist-Weiller Cancer Center is eerily quiet. We get there so early, the guard meets us at the door to tell us no staff has arrived yet. We wait.
This is the day I get to wear that lovely gown and hair net (which does absolutely nothing for my round steroid-swollen face). They even make me put scratchy booties over my gorgeous hot pink toenails?! But I look down at my 9 hot pink fingernails and smile. When the CRNA stops by to talk with me, I show her I left one unpainted. She laughs and then said she was just on her way to get the fingernail polish remover.
So, here I am, waiting. Waiting with nine hot pink fingernails, crazy hair in a hairnet, gorgeous hospital gown, pale white face with dark circles under my eyes (followed some of the no make-up rule) and sporting my hot pink 24 hour color stay lipstick. I'm sure it was a sight. I have my iphone with me, of course (hot pink cover). I am constantly checking my FB page for distraction. Today, I am completely overwhelmed by the well wishes, sweet words, thoughts, prayers and scriptures you are posting. I am refreshing and reading them while they put my IV in. I feel stronger. I feel God's presence.
My husband walks in in his doctor gear. It's so strange to see him in his element. In his scrubs and long white starched doctor's coat. The staff knows him. This is where he works. This is where he does surgeries. This is where he diagnoses cancer. This is where he removes cancer. You can see them look at my chart, look at him and you can see when they make the connection. But how strange must this be for him. I'm not another patient lying in wait for surgery to determine cancer. It's his wife.
A nurse introduces herself to me and I can tell she is not overly friendly. Nice, yes, but when she sees Brian, not overly friendly. Apparently, my husband and her didn't see eye to eye on something last week. GREAT! and she's my nurse. Doctors, take heed! Be nice to all nurses. You never know when one of them will be taking care of your family.
Surrounded by my mom, dad, brother, husband and preacher, we pray. We pray hard! I check FB one last time for the encouragement. Then it's time. They come to get me and push some meds in my IV. NICE. Why couldn't they have done that earlier? Here I go. Weeeeeee.......
Today I hate an OR! So cold. Everyone is nice, though. She tells me she is putting the meds in my IV to make me sleep. While she is doing this, I make an announcement to the entire busy OR. "If there is anyone in here that knows my husband and doesn't like him, please don't take it out on me!" I pass out to the sound of laughter. Nice!
Today I hear them calling my name. I'm trying to answer. I'm trying to wake up. I can't. The drugged sleep feels so good. I hear their concern over my blood pressure. I'm just gonna go back t sleep, thank you. Then it hits me. They know. My family might know. The doctor knows. Do I have cancer. I start to fight off the sleep. I hate this feeling. I gotta know. I'm trying. I hear them say to get my husband. I'm fighting. Ouch, my chest really hurts. It's burning. OW! Maybe this is good. Maybe they got it all. I am coming around. I see Brian come around the curtain. He is smiling. It's a real smile. Not a pity smile. Seriously!?
"Well?" I manage to squeak out. "It's fine. It's ok. He is pretty sure it's a fibroadenoma."
What? Seriously? I let this sink in. Brian said he even did a frozen section of the mass while in the OR, and it came back fibroadenoma (benign). I understand and am relieved, but it won't sink in. Apparently my body doesn't understant it's ok, either, and my BP and HR are through the roof. It hurts. Pain meds, please? After more pain meds, I feel better and BP and HR follow suit.
Today I want to know how big my mass was. This highly-suspicious probably cancer that fooled everyone. How big was it? I think I ask everyone at least 3 times. My mom grows tired of this, but I have to know. I'm obsessed with the size of the thing that has altered my life for the past month. I am pushing. I want stats. I want percentages. What is the chance it could still be cancer? Am I really in the clear. Someone said 95% chance it is not cancer. Not sure who said it, but I am holding on to this. This sounds good to me. Of course, everyone just kept repeating, "we will know for sure next week when all pathology reports come back."
Today, I received a miracle! Today, God shocked even the doctors when HE showed them HE had this! I have been saying "I got this." Just an FYI, I never had it. I tried, but God let me know real quick that I could never "have it." HE had it under control. HE performed a complete and total miracle! I am floored. Who am I that I am worthy enough for such a miracle. Today I am humbled.
I take a deep breath. I immediately feel the pull of the stitches. It hurts. It puts the idea back into my mind, what if it is still cancer? I was so prepared for cancer, it's almost like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I take a pain pill and google fibroadenoma. Stupid, I know, but I'm obsessed. Has anyone else had a huge, lobulated fidroadenoma that turned out to be cancer? I can't find anything. Good.
Today, I am ashamed of myself. I just received this miracle and now I'm doubting? No, I will not let this happen. Now, I will be positive. I will breathe easier next week. When the hole in my breast fills with fluid like its supposed to. When I can lift my arm without pain. When I can take this stinking tight bra off. When I know for sure the pathology results.
Today, I don't feel worthy. I am not worthy of this miracle God has performed. I am not worthy of all of the support and prayers. But I accept it all. I appreciate it all more than words can say. Thank you doesn't seem like enough to say. This is the first day of the rest of my long life.
THIS IS THE DAY!
"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is also the day of surgery. Mom and Dad arrive at my house to pick me up in the wee hours of the morning. The ride to Feist-Weiller Cancer Center is eerily quiet. We get there so early, the guard meets us at the door to tell us no staff has arrived yet. We wait.
This is the day I get to wear that lovely gown and hair net (which does absolutely nothing for my round steroid-swollen face). They even make me put scratchy booties over my gorgeous hot pink toenails?! But I look down at my 9 hot pink fingernails and smile. When the CRNA stops by to talk with me, I show her I left one unpainted. She laughs and then said she was just on her way to get the fingernail polish remover.
So, here I am, waiting. Waiting with nine hot pink fingernails, crazy hair in a hairnet, gorgeous hospital gown, pale white face with dark circles under my eyes (followed some of the no make-up rule) and sporting my hot pink 24 hour color stay lipstick. I'm sure it was a sight. I have my iphone with me, of course (hot pink cover). I am constantly checking my FB page for distraction. Today, I am completely overwhelmed by the well wishes, sweet words, thoughts, prayers and scriptures you are posting. I am refreshing and reading them while they put my IV in. I feel stronger. I feel God's presence.
My husband walks in in his doctor gear. It's so strange to see him in his element. In his scrubs and long white starched doctor's coat. The staff knows him. This is where he works. This is where he does surgeries. This is where he diagnoses cancer. This is where he removes cancer. You can see them look at my chart, look at him and you can see when they make the connection. But how strange must this be for him. I'm not another patient lying in wait for surgery to determine cancer. It's his wife.
A nurse introduces herself to me and I can tell she is not overly friendly. Nice, yes, but when she sees Brian, not overly friendly. Apparently, my husband and her didn't see eye to eye on something last week. GREAT! and she's my nurse. Doctors, take heed! Be nice to all nurses. You never know when one of them will be taking care of your family.
Surrounded by my mom, dad, brother, husband and preacher, we pray. We pray hard! I check FB one last time for the encouragement. Then it's time. They come to get me and push some meds in my IV. NICE. Why couldn't they have done that earlier? Here I go. Weeeeeee.......
Today I hate an OR! So cold. Everyone is nice, though. She tells me she is putting the meds in my IV to make me sleep. While she is doing this, I make an announcement to the entire busy OR. "If there is anyone in here that knows my husband and doesn't like him, please don't take it out on me!" I pass out to the sound of laughter. Nice!
Today I hear them calling my name. I'm trying to answer. I'm trying to wake up. I can't. The drugged sleep feels so good. I hear their concern over my blood pressure. I'm just gonna go back t sleep, thank you. Then it hits me. They know. My family might know. The doctor knows. Do I have cancer. I start to fight off the sleep. I hate this feeling. I gotta know. I'm trying. I hear them say to get my husband. I'm fighting. Ouch, my chest really hurts. It's burning. OW! Maybe this is good. Maybe they got it all. I am coming around. I see Brian come around the curtain. He is smiling. It's a real smile. Not a pity smile. Seriously!?
"Well?" I manage to squeak out. "It's fine. It's ok. He is pretty sure it's a fibroadenoma."
What? Seriously? I let this sink in. Brian said he even did a frozen section of the mass while in the OR, and it came back fibroadenoma (benign). I understand and am relieved, but it won't sink in. Apparently my body doesn't understant it's ok, either, and my BP and HR are through the roof. It hurts. Pain meds, please? After more pain meds, I feel better and BP and HR follow suit.
Today I want to know how big my mass was. This highly-suspicious probably cancer that fooled everyone. How big was it? I think I ask everyone at least 3 times. My mom grows tired of this, but I have to know. I'm obsessed with the size of the thing that has altered my life for the past month. I am pushing. I want stats. I want percentages. What is the chance it could still be cancer? Am I really in the clear. Someone said 95% chance it is not cancer. Not sure who said it, but I am holding on to this. This sounds good to me. Of course, everyone just kept repeating, "we will know for sure next week when all pathology reports come back."
Today, I received a miracle! Today, God shocked even the doctors when HE showed them HE had this! I have been saying "I got this." Just an FYI, I never had it. I tried, but God let me know real quick that I could never "have it." HE had it under control. HE performed a complete and total miracle! I am floored. Who am I that I am worthy enough for such a miracle. Today I am humbled.
I take a deep breath. I immediately feel the pull of the stitches. It hurts. It puts the idea back into my mind, what if it is still cancer? I was so prepared for cancer, it's almost like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I take a pain pill and google fibroadenoma. Stupid, I know, but I'm obsessed. Has anyone else had a huge, lobulated fidroadenoma that turned out to be cancer? I can't find anything. Good.
Today, I am ashamed of myself. I just received this miracle and now I'm doubting? No, I will not let this happen. Now, I will be positive. I will breathe easier next week. When the hole in my breast fills with fluid like its supposed to. When I can lift my arm without pain. When I can take this stinking tight bra off. When I know for sure the pathology results.
Today, I don't feel worthy. I am not worthy of this miracle God has performed. I am not worthy of all of the support and prayers. But I accept it all. I appreciate it all more than words can say. Thank you doesn't seem like enough to say. This is the first day of the rest of my long life.
THIS IS THE DAY!
"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
Thursday, May 5, 2011
This is the day.... (before surgery)
"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is the day before surgery. The day before the day that could alter the course of my life. After waiting an additional week to be sure, of course. This is the day I got my nails painted neon pink.
This is the day I felt a peace. I have felt better today than I have for the past few days. I can feel the prayers!My oncologist is such a wonderful man and was so reassuring today. He didn't feel any lymph node involvement, which is great news, and there is still a chance that I don't have cancer. Oh, and he has yet to say the "c" word. But for now, that's fine with me.
This is the day I had mother and daughter day with my almost 5 year old baby. Her choice of Chick-fil-A for lunch in the mall and fingernail and toenails painted. She went with sparkly turquoise. I, of course, chose hot pink. My new favorite color.
Now, anyone who has had surgery probably knows there are strict rules that you must follow before going into the OR. Today, I am a rebel. I am violating two of the major rules of the OR. No fingernail polish and no make-up. Well, I'm not completely violating them. I left one fingernail not painted, and I am not going to wear full make-up. However, I will be wearing the long-lasting hot pink lipstick that my daughter picked out to match my nails. If it's too much of an issue, they can wipe it off after I'm asleep.
So, tomorrow I will be the one the OR staff is probably complaining and/or laughing about. The poor pale white girl with crazy hair (can't use any hair products), crazy hot pink lipstick and nine hot pink nails. These people know my husband. Sorry, babe. This makes me smile. I need that. I need to be not just another case on the OR table. I need to be more than a number or a file. I am a 32-year-old mother of two, wife of a surgery resident, sister, and daughter that is scared to death she might have cancer. But the pink helps me smile. I got this.
Well, I hope everyone that read my blog yesterday went out and felt of some boobs! Please tell me you did! Please tell me you shared this story with someone else you love that went out and felt of some more boobs!
I better go. Gonna pick up my 28 lb 14 month old while I still can, try to clean up this house a bit, go buy Mother's Day gifts, purchase a supportive sports bra for after surgery and eat a nice meal before my 8:00 p.m. solid food deadline.
This is the day I have felt your prayers. I know I will feel them all tomorrow as well. I got this!
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is the day before surgery. The day before the day that could alter the course of my life. After waiting an additional week to be sure, of course. This is the day I got my nails painted neon pink.
This is the day I felt a peace. I have felt better today than I have for the past few days. I can feel the prayers!My oncologist is such a wonderful man and was so reassuring today. He didn't feel any lymph node involvement, which is great news, and there is still a chance that I don't have cancer. Oh, and he has yet to say the "c" word. But for now, that's fine with me.
This is the day I had mother and daughter day with my almost 5 year old baby. Her choice of Chick-fil-A for lunch in the mall and fingernail and toenails painted. She went with sparkly turquoise. I, of course, chose hot pink. My new favorite color.
Now, anyone who has had surgery probably knows there are strict rules that you must follow before going into the OR. Today, I am a rebel. I am violating two of the major rules of the OR. No fingernail polish and no make-up. Well, I'm not completely violating them. I left one fingernail not painted, and I am not going to wear full make-up. However, I will be wearing the long-lasting hot pink lipstick that my daughter picked out to match my nails. If it's too much of an issue, they can wipe it off after I'm asleep.
So, tomorrow I will be the one the OR staff is probably complaining and/or laughing about. The poor pale white girl with crazy hair (can't use any hair products), crazy hot pink lipstick and nine hot pink nails. These people know my husband. Sorry, babe. This makes me smile. I need that. I need to be not just another case on the OR table. I need to be more than a number or a file. I am a 32-year-old mother of two, wife of a surgery resident, sister, and daughter that is scared to death she might have cancer. But the pink helps me smile. I got this.
Well, I hope everyone that read my blog yesterday went out and felt of some boobs! Please tell me you did! Please tell me you shared this story with someone else you love that went out and felt of some more boobs!
I better go. Gonna pick up my 28 lb 14 month old while I still can, try to clean up this house a bit, go buy Mother's Day gifts, purchase a supportive sports bra for after surgery and eat a nice meal before my 8:00 p.m. solid food deadline.
This is the day I have felt your prayers. I know I will feel them all tomorrow as well. I got this!
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
This is the day...
"...that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is also the day that rocked my world. The day that could change my life.
"Suspicious." Such an interesting word. When I think of this word, I think of spys and terrorists. Well, now it has a whole new meaning to me. Today, "suspicious" was a word in a radiologist report. Today, "suspicious" was used to describe a large mass in my right breast. Today, "suspicious" could mean cancer.
Did you know a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer every 3 minutes? Today, I am not one of them. Today, I am waiting to see if I will be one of them. Today, I'm just "suspicious."
Apparently, surgeons are very tight-lipped people. He won't tell me that its absolutely cancer. He just says that word again, except he puts another word in front of it - "highly-suspicious." Really?!? Like you don't see this every day. Like you can't tell me yes or no?!? Seriously?!? I keep pushing until my poor husband, who understands this tight-lipped surgeon language, tells me, "Krissy, it's probably cancer."
This still doesn't satisfy me. "Probably?!?" "Probably highly suspicious?!" I need a definite. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, apparently we still have to take the duck to the operating room, dissect it, send off the pieces, and wait for a pathology report to say, "Yep,it's a duck!"
So, this little duck is on the OR schedule for Friday. Two days from now they will remove the large 4.15 cm probably highly suspicious mass from my right breast. Then I wait some more. Up to one week for the report to come back to see if it is a duck. To see what the "probably highly suspicious" mass will now be called.
Benign - we were wrong about our suspicions. There is no cancer. You are fine. or "It's cancer." Will the tight-lipped surgeon really say the "c" word?
Whatever it is, I'm prepared. I'm one of those that prefers to research it and scare the poo out of myself and be prepared to face the worst, than sticking my head in the sand and pretending all is okay. I would rather be pleasantly surprised than utterly devasted.
But, if it's cancer, can I really be prepared? Yes, yes, I can. There is no room in my head or heart for doubt right now. God never puts more on us than we can bear. So, apparently I'm a warrior princess and all will be okay. Boobs and hair can all be replaced. This will not kill me!
This is my first attempt at blogging and some may find this wierd that I'm putting my very personal business out there for all to see. But I have to. This is me. I have to know that some good can come out of all this. My reason for this is not to share my business with everyone to have people feel sorry for me.
My reason is simple. I am only 32!!! 32, people! I had never done a self breast exam. I mean, come on, I'm 32! Something possesed me (guided by God) to attempt a self breast exam two and a half months ago while taking a shower. I felt the lump, assumed it was a cyst. Why? Because I'm only 32! The odds were slim to none it was anything to be concerned about. Well, Hello "slim to none," I'd like you to meet "highly suspicious."
So, if you are a woman, or if you love a woman, go feel on some boobs! Seriously, I don't care if you are 21, 32 or 48 years old, please, please go right now and do a self breast exam. Husbands, if you love your woman, feel her boobs. Go in circles and feel for any lumps or bumps, no matter how small. If you find something, don't wait! Call your dr. Mammograms aren't that bad, especially if it can save your life. Please, please, do this for me. I pray you don't have to endure the words "highly suspicious."
Another very selfish reason for this blog is prayers. I am not too proud to ask for prayers. I believe God is listening to each and every one and it makes me stronger.
For now, this little duck sits and waits on what to call her "probably highly suspicious" mass.
On Friday, they will remove the mass and then one more week of wait. I can do this. I got this.
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
This is also the day that rocked my world. The day that could change my life.
"Suspicious." Such an interesting word. When I think of this word, I think of spys and terrorists. Well, now it has a whole new meaning to me. Today, "suspicious" was a word in a radiologist report. Today, "suspicious" was used to describe a large mass in my right breast. Today, "suspicious" could mean cancer.
Did you know a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer every 3 minutes? Today, I am not one of them. Today, I am waiting to see if I will be one of them. Today, I'm just "suspicious."
Apparently, surgeons are very tight-lipped people. He won't tell me that its absolutely cancer. He just says that word again, except he puts another word in front of it - "highly-suspicious." Really?!? Like you don't see this every day. Like you can't tell me yes or no?!? Seriously?!? I keep pushing until my poor husband, who understands this tight-lipped surgeon language, tells me, "Krissy, it's probably cancer."
This still doesn't satisfy me. "Probably?!?" "Probably highly suspicious?!" I need a definite. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, apparently we still have to take the duck to the operating room, dissect it, send off the pieces, and wait for a pathology report to say, "Yep,it's a duck!"
So, this little duck is on the OR schedule for Friday. Two days from now they will remove the large 4.15 cm probably highly suspicious mass from my right breast. Then I wait some more. Up to one week for the report to come back to see if it is a duck. To see what the "probably highly suspicious" mass will now be called.
Benign - we were wrong about our suspicions. There is no cancer. You are fine. or "It's cancer." Will the tight-lipped surgeon really say the "c" word?
Whatever it is, I'm prepared. I'm one of those that prefers to research it and scare the poo out of myself and be prepared to face the worst, than sticking my head in the sand and pretending all is okay. I would rather be pleasantly surprised than utterly devasted.
But, if it's cancer, can I really be prepared? Yes, yes, I can. There is no room in my head or heart for doubt right now. God never puts more on us than we can bear. So, apparently I'm a warrior princess and all will be okay. Boobs and hair can all be replaced. This will not kill me!
This is my first attempt at blogging and some may find this wierd that I'm putting my very personal business out there for all to see. But I have to. This is me. I have to know that some good can come out of all this. My reason for this is not to share my business with everyone to have people feel sorry for me.
My reason is simple. I am only 32!!! 32, people! I had never done a self breast exam. I mean, come on, I'm 32! Something possesed me (guided by God) to attempt a self breast exam two and a half months ago while taking a shower. I felt the lump, assumed it was a cyst. Why? Because I'm only 32! The odds were slim to none it was anything to be concerned about. Well, Hello "slim to none," I'd like you to meet "highly suspicious."
So, if you are a woman, or if you love a woman, go feel on some boobs! Seriously, I don't care if you are 21, 32 or 48 years old, please, please go right now and do a self breast exam. Husbands, if you love your woman, feel her boobs. Go in circles and feel for any lumps or bumps, no matter how small. If you find something, don't wait! Call your dr. Mammograms aren't that bad, especially if it can save your life. Please, please, do this for me. I pray you don't have to endure the words "highly suspicious."
Another very selfish reason for this blog is prayers. I am not too proud to ask for prayers. I believe God is listening to each and every one and it makes me stronger.
For now, this little duck sits and waits on what to call her "probably highly suspicious" mass.
On Friday, they will remove the mass and then one more week of wait. I can do this. I got this.
"This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
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