Breast Cancer in the Time of COVID-19 Part 5: The Weirdness of it All

NOTE: For the Introduction to this series, with links to Parts 1-4, click HERE.

Now that I've written about how I found out about my breast cancer, how the battle began, the side effects of chemo, teaching online during chemo and COVID-19, my mental and emotional battle, and the support of family and friends, I want to sum it all up with this post about the utter weirdness of it all. It has been the strangest experience of my life, so far. Everything is different than I ever imagined 2020 being, and has been since January. 

It's strange enough to be told you have cancer. It feels surreal. Suddenly everything has changed, and other people are making you appointments for medical imaging, procedures, bloodwork, and chemotherapy. There isn't really any choice in the matter; if you don't have treament, the cancer will grow, and will eventually disfigure and then kill you. Your body goes into an ongoing fight-or-flight mode. At least this is how it was for me, in late January and throughout February into mid-March. Up until that point, I felt like I was handling things pretty well, juggling work and treatment and time with family and friends. But then another major event rolled into the mix.

The COVID-19 virus seemed like something far away back in January, when I was diagnosed. By mid-March, however, it was evident that this was going to affect our lives far more than we had thought. On March 11th it was declared a global pandemic, and as schools headed into Spring Break, we teachers were told that everything would be shutting down for two weeks, or more. Suddenly EVERYTHING was different. 

I knew that with a suppressed immune system I would be having to avoid large crowds and isolating myself somewhat during chemo, but I had no idea that my whole family would have to shelter at home, wearing masks to go do grocery pickup and wiping down the groceries with sanitizing wipes. We had no idea that the pandemic would last over three months, that friends of ours would lose their jobs, that the economy would be so affected, that uncertainty about infection rates, contagiousness, and personal risk would multiply, or that now, in mid-June, we would still not know when it will all be over. The anxiety of having cancer is multiplied exponentially by a health crisis of this magnitude. I'm sure it's the same for anyone with a health condition that makes them more susceptible to a virus, or with children who have underlying health issues. It feels like it affected all the areas of our life that the cancer had not yet touched.

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I could have still been teaching, seeing friends, going out to eat, meeting with church family, and generally living a normal life except for being ultra-cautious about germs and illness. But with the shelter-in-place guidelines, all of that ceased. In a way, it took a lot of the pressure off me. I could teach from home, so if I didn't feel the greatest, I no longer had to make the decision of whether to go out and teach or call a sub. Dealing with all the side effects of chemo has most likely been easier for me because I haven't had to travel around to various locations to teach, and haven't had any pressure to go out and be social. 

Now that our state has begun opening up, it's still weird, mostly because of all the unknowns. How much longer will we have to be concerned about getting COVID-19? A few months? A year? Forever? How bad would the virus really be? Is it possible we have already all had it, or been exposed to it, and just don't know? Should we wear masks in public, or does that make us not breathe enough oxygen? How do we know what to believe that is written online? There are many things that are uncertain. 

When will our lives ever get back to normal? Or will they not? Will we have a new normal, a different way of doing things based on my having had cancer and our avoidance of COVID-19? These are still unkowns. I tend to concentrate more on the knowns: my family, my friends, the things I have to do each day, and the beauty of nature when I reflect on it. 

Fortunately, one thing has not changed during all of this: God. His presence in our lives has been a constant throughout all of this turmoil and trial. I have had peace and strength that can only come from Him. He is not surprised by all these events, and so the weirdness of it all is mitigated by the knowledge that He has a plan, even though we don't know what it is. Thus, I have had to trust Him and put my future in His hands, as I always have since the day I first began to follow Jesus Christ. My future has always been in His hands, even before I was diagnosed with cancer and before COVID-19 swept across the globe. That makes the "weirdness" seem unimportant, compared to eternal things.

And so, I conclude my official series on having cancer in the time of COVID-19, but I will continue to write about my experiences. After two more rounds of chemo I'll be having an MRI, then surgery, and then radiation. Many more blog posts to come...

Breast Cancer in the time of COVID-19 Series Part 3: My Mental and Emotional Battle

When you hear the word cancer what goes through your mind depends on your own experiences. Have you had cancer before? Has a loved one had it? What type of cancer? How did treatment go? Did they die? Was it a horrible experience? What emotions are evoked? We each have our own background and thus our own inner landscape regarding this word. When it turns out to be personal, that is, when we wind up being the ones with cancer, it launches a mental and emotional battle whether we are ready for it, or not. In my case, I was mentally ready to hear it for a variety of reasons, but I don't know if that has made this fight any easier. The mental and emotional battle, which is perhaps easier to call the spiritual battle, is an on-going, ever-changing confrontation in my mind between my fears, concerns, and uncertainty on one side and my sense of peace, calm, and trust in God on the other. 

Let me back up a little. When I was growing up, I didn't really deal with any relatives having cancer. I knew of various distant relatives who had it, or friends of friends, but nobody within my immediate circle was struck with cancer. Then, about fifteen years ago, my mother called me to tell me she needed a breast biopsy. This turned out to be a type of breast cancer called Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. My sweet, loving, wonderful mom had to have a unilateral mastectomy, and then take Tamoxifen, a chemo drug, for five years afterwards. This was scary, unsettling, and downright awful, but I never thought even once that my mom would die from it. The cancer was tiny, had not spread, and my mom kept such a great attitude throughout it that I did not fear. Then my father-in-law had prostate cancer. Again, this did not seem like such a big deal. He did radioactive seeding, and the cancer was defeated. Okay, we all thought, so there are cancers that are not such scary bogeymen, but are defeatable and manageable.

Then, in 2007, my eight-year-old son was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. 

Whoa.

This was not the same. My sweet, loving boy's life was at stake. I knew how tough this fight could be. We basically lived at the hospital for nearly three months. He had five week-long rounds of chemo with nasty side effects, and he became a thin, pale, energy-less facsimile of himself. There were times I cried and asked God why he hadn't just given me cancer, instead. My husband did the same. We cried together, we prayed together, and we tried to trust and stay calm. I could write an entire book about the experience, and probably some day I will, but to sum it up here, it was awful.  We felt so powerless, and could only do what the doctors said to do, and comfort our son as best we could. Thank God, all of the chemo worked and within about three months he was declared in remission from the cancer. He has remained cancer-free ever since then. But the experience took a toll on our family, especially on our son, who still, sometimes, deals with the stress, trauma, and anxiety of those dark days. 

Eventually our family emerged into the light of the post-cancer stage, and moved on. We laughed, we celebrated holidays, we traveled, we learned, and we wound up not thinking about it too much anymore. Then, at Christmastime in 2017, we heard the word cancer again, this time because our daughter, who was then 20, had to have her entire thyroid removed because of cysts and lumps, and one of them turned out to be papillary carcinoma of the thyroid. Her recovery from the surgery had been quite rough, and it was at her one-week follow-up appointment that the surgeon spoke those terrible words. "We had a bit of a surprise on the pathology report," he said kindly. "One of the lumps was cancerous." My stomach began to churn and heave, but I stayed calm on the outside. I looked at her; she looked at me. "Okay, I said, what do we need to do?"

Here we go again. The uncertainty, the knowing that cancer can cause people to die, the sense of being powerless and helpless against this foe that does not care who you are, what you've done, or how you want your life to go. Cancer just invades and takes over.

For our daughter, the treatment consisted of radioactive iodine, administered after two weeks of a strict little-to-no-iodine diet. She then had to stay away from all of us for several days except for brief interactions. I delivered meals to her room and checked on her frequently. She has now had two iodine scans since then, and has been free of cancer both times. She has another scan this Fall. We're still paying off her medical bills from all of this. But we figured our family had dodged a bullet yet again, and could move on to the post-cancer stage, getting back to normal life. My daughter doesn't take any day for granted, though, and I think none of us do.

Now back to my current reality. You can read about how I found my cancer and was diagnosed here. I'll fast forward through the story, which began last November, to January 23rd, when my OB/GYN called me. For a few days, since my ultrasound, I had been trying out the words in my head: I have cancer. Somehow, after the ultrasound, my mind and heart knew the truth already, and I began to prepare mentally for it, so that when I finally heard the words, it was not the horrible shock you might think it would be. 

That Thursday I was eating lunch with three of my closest friends, knowing that I would hear something that day or the next. We were laughing and talking, just generally having a good time, when my phone rang. My OB/GYN is also a friend, since I've been going to her for eight years, and for a few years I gave her educational advice and support about her teenagers, when they were in high school. She is also my eldest daughter's OB/GYN, and delivered both of my beautiful granddaughters. She knows me well enough to know that I didn't need any sugar-coating or build-up. I just needed the facts. "It's cancer, Alice," she said.  "It's also in one of your lymph nodes, so you'll have to have the whole gamut of treatment, surgery, chemo, and radiation. I hate this for you." I hate it for me, too, I thought. I knew that she was truly sympathetic, as her sister is fighting ovarian cancer and she is worried about possibly getting cancer, too. I agreed to keep her posted on my treatment, and we signed off. I walked back to the lunch table, sat down, and told my friends, "Well, that was my doctor. I have breast cancer."

I HAVE CANCER.

All three of them took my hands, then stopped and prayed with me immediately. I sat quietly weeping, letting their words wash over me as they talked to the God of the universe, asking Him to give me strength, peace, calm, endurance, perseverance, and ultimately total healing. And thus the battle began with prayer and with the support of friends and family. (More about that in my next post.)

But the main battle, the mental, emotional, and spiritual battle, is inside my own head every day. We all have this battle, but for me having cancer has intensified the struggle to stay upbeat and positive. Negative thoughts and emotions can crop up any time, and it's an effort of the will to combat them. I try to do it with Scripture, and with common sense or logical thoughts.  Scripture helps immensely, and thinking logically about things supports my mental well-being. For example:

What if I don't beat this cancer, and I die from it? 

    Scripture: 2 Corinthians 5:1  For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.  6-8 So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.

    Common sense: All human beings die at some point; we just don't know when we will die. I could die tomorrow in a car crash, or from some other disease. There is no reason to walk around being frightened of dying. 

All of this treatment is horrible to go through, so I'm just going to wallow in self-pity and depression. Why do I have to go through this?

    Scripture: Romans 5:1-5 Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

    Common sense: My treatments are the best way that doctors have figured out to eradicate the cancer cells in my body, and I have various methods of dealing with the side effects. The unpleasant effects will be temporary, and are something I must endure in order to beat the cancer. I can do this, and come out the other side a stronger, tougher person.

You get the idea. Any question or thought I have can be answered thus. 

Not that I don't have bad times, but my inner monologue in general stays positive, rather than being negative about everything. Yes, I have doubts and fears. I want to grow old with my husband, and see all three of my children established in their own homes, and see my grandchildren grow up. I want to keep teaching for many years, helping many young people become better communicators of their thoughts and of what they have learned. I want to run with my friends, and go to the beach and swim, and hike trails, and play games, and play the piano and sing, and cook good food. I don't want to die from breast cancer in my 50s, or any time, for that matter.

But you know what? I can still do most of these things right now, and the few that I can't, I'll be able to do again in a few months. I can keep living life, even during treatment, and enjoy every minute of it. This is what we should all be doing, anyway: living life joyously and gratefully each day, since we never know what day will be our last. 

The battle continues...

Breast Cancer in the time of COVID-19 Series Part 1: Side Effects

The introduction to this series is here.

My side effects from Adriamycin (generic name is doxorubicin) and Cytoxan (cyclophosphamide) include nausea, fatigue & dizziness, changes in the color of my nails, intestinal upset, changes in taste, hair loss, and dry eyes and skin. These have continued to various degress under Taxol and Carboplatin. So let's take these one at a time. Please remember that side effects are different for each person. My experience may be completely different from yours, or your friend's or loved one's experience.

Nausea

The nausea during my A/C treaments kicked in pretty hard by Friday night or Saturday morning. I have two prescription anti-emeticss, Zofran (ondansetron) and Compazine (prochlorper) which can each be taken every eight hours, so you can alternate them every four hours to give constant coverage against the nausea. This worked pretty well during my A/C treatments. During my current treatments, with Taxol (paclitaxel) and Carboplatin, the nausea is not as bad when I just have Taxol, but the Carboplatin makes me feel really sick. This past weekend I had not felt sick at all on Saturday, so I didn't take any anti-emetic, and I woke up at 6:15 Sunday morning feeling really nauseated. It was too late to take a pill, and I threw up. A lot. Once the vomiting stopped, I waited about 30 minutes and took a Compazine pill. Zofran has to be dissolved on the tongue, and it tastes weird to me, so I chose the pill I could swallow with a sip of water. At 9:30 I started throwing up again. Again, I waited a while after I stopped puking, about 45 minutes this time, and then took a Zofran. Once I began alternating the two drugs, keeping both in my system, the nausea was under control. But I was exhausted from the vomiting, worried about dehydration, and unable to eat without feeling sick. I spent the day lying on the couch, sleeping and sipping on ginger ale, Powerade, and then Pedialyte that a friend brought over. It was a rough day. By late in the evening I was able to eat and keep down some thin mashed potatoes and a piece of toast with cinnamon sugar on it. Monday I kept alternating the anti-emetics, and was able to eat more normally, but still felt extremely tired.

Fatigue and dizziness

Using the word "fatigue" for how I feel these days just doesn't seem strong enough. The tiredness from chemo is a deep, bone-tired feeling, where you feel like you're carrying around half again of your body weight and your muscles don't respond correctly to your brain's commands. At least mine feels like that. I usually "crash" like this on Saturday afternoon, Sunday, and Monday, so Days 3-5 of each round (the day I get chemo is Day 1.) It makes me feel like all I want to do is sit and watch something, or play a game on the computer or my phone. Along with the fatigue comes dizziness when I stand up too quickly or bend down to pick something up and then rise up again. It's like how you feel when you've been terribly sick and are recovering, trying to regain your strength. Maybe you've never felt that way; I hope you never have. By Tuesday the fatigue lifts considerably and I start to feel more energetic again. But I usually don't feel totally normally physically anymore, not even by Wednesday or Thursday, and then I have more chemo.

Nail changes

One weird thing is that some of my nails have turned dark purple at the base or over most of the nail. It isn't very dark, but it's noticeable. My fingernails have also gotten sort of ripply and ridged. Apparently this is all normal and to be expected.

Intestinal upset

I'll forgo discussing the intestinal upset and just say that it can go two ways: the Immodium way, or the Colace/Miralax way. You can figure that out. 

Changes in taste

The first thing I noticed was that fruit tasted like soap. Then many other foods began to taste metallic or like chemicals. Many foods that I used to like now sound unappetizing to me. For a while, toward the end of my A/C treatments and while I had the sinus infection, I lost my sense of taste entirely, probably because I couldn't smell anything at all, and nothing sounded good to me to eat. (And before you ask, NO, they did not test me for COVID-19. I did not have a fever, sore throat, or deep cough in my lungs. I still wonder, though....) A few friends who are cancer survivors suggested I switch to eating only with plastic utensils, and that has helped tremendously. Since I've been on the two new chemo drugs, my taste buds have revived considerably. I am able to taste food better and enjoy eating again.

Hair loss

I lost most of my hair two weeks after I started chemo, back in March. On Day 13 after Round 1 it started coming out in handfuls. I decided to take control of it, and cut it short, in a pixie cut:

Then Eric helped me shave it into a mohawk:

But it was falling out horribly as I put stuff in it to spike it up, so I only kept the mohawk for about 15 minutes. Then we shaved it all off. I started wearing comfy chemo hats;

At that point, I hadn't started losing any eyebrows or eyelashes. Now that I'm on Taxol and Carboplatin, my scalp hair has begun to re-grow, and my brows and lashes are falling out. My lower lashes are almost totally gone, I have about half of my upper lashes, and my brows are seriously thinned out. I was using a lash serum the whole time on my lashes and brows, but they just can't hang on. I'm having to use an eyebrow pen to fill them in now. 

Dry eyes and skin

Finally, chemo has dried out my skin, even though I try to stay hydrated internally. My feet flake and peel, and my face, hands, and legs are horribly dry. Even my eyes are dry! I had to call my ophthamologist to get recommendations for eye drops, eye gel, and eye ointment that I can use during the day and at night to relieve the dryness. The eye dryness was worse on the A/C protocol, and has abated somewhat during T/C. But it's still there. I'm applying facial moisturizer multiple times a day, and body lotion on my arms and legs several times a day.

Well, there you have it. My side effects. 

Let the Breast Cancer Battle Begin

Since I last wrote and posted on January 23rd, I have had several different appointments with doctors, some tests, and a procedure. So here is the update:

On January 31st I met my breast surgeon, Dr. Susan Mahany. She told me that my cancer is what is called Triple Negative Breast Cancer, and it is an invasive ductal carcinoma. What does that mean? Well, the invasive ductal carcinoma part is pretty easy. It means that the cancer started in one of my milk ducts, and then has invaded the surrounding tissue. The Triple Negative thing is a little more complex. Basically, researchers have identified certain hormones that fuel breast cancer. Estrogen, progesterone, and human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 (known as HER2) are the three main ones on the list. They can test the cancer cells and see which of these is acting as fuel, if any. If the cancer is feeding on estrogen, it is ER+ cancer, but if not, it's ER- cancer. Same thing for progesterone (PR+ or PR-) and the HER2 (+ or -).  My cancer does not feed on any of the three, so it is ER-, PR- and HER2-, or triple negative.  The first course of treatment will be chemotherapy, but more on that in a minute.

First, I went on Wednesday, February 5th and had an MRI done of my breasts. Not pleasant, in any way. Two different women at Candler hospital, the receptionist in the imaging center and the lady who runs the little coffee shop, both gave me words of encouragement and healing from the Lord, and I now know two sisters in Christ whom I did not previously know. My MRI results showed that the tumors in my breast and lymph node nearly doubled in size in three weeks. Yikes! No wonder they are hurting pretty much constantly.

Then, on Friday, February 7th, I met with my oncologist, Dr. Jennifer Yanucci. She is wonderful. She explained the whole chemo protocol to me. (explained below)

On Monday, February 10th, I went in early in the morning for my pre-op screening, an EKG, and blood work. That all went smoothly. Then on Thursday, February 13th, I underwent surgery to have my port-a-cath placed. It is now healing and will enable me to start chemo this Thursday, February 20th. While I was in recovery I also had an echocardiogram to make sure that my heart is strong and healthy enough to withstand doxorubicin, also known as Adriamycin, a.k.a. The Red Devil. It will be one of two drugs that I get first. Just to keep us all on our toes, each drug has a generic name and then one or more brand names. Here is the protocol:

First, 4 cycles of dose-dense Adriamycin (doxorubicin) and Cytoxan (cyclophosphamide) and a 'cycle' means an infusion every two weeks, with monitoring of  my blood counts and health in between infusions. This will start this Thursday and, if all goes well, end April 2nd.

Then, 12 weeks/cycles of Taxol (paclitaxol) infusions once a week, and Carboplatin (I have only heard one name for this one!) every three weeks during the 12 weeks of Taxol. I don't know if they'll start this whole part of the protocol on April 9th or on April 16th, but if all goes well, I will be done with chemo either the last week of June or the first week of July.

Within the next few weeks, I'll be undergoing genetic testing to see if my cancer is genetically linked to the BRCA1 or BRCA2 genes. If it is, I'll need to undergo a bilateral mastectomy. If it's not, then I'll have to make a decision about whether to have a lumpectomy or a one-side mastectomy or a bilateraly mastectomy. This will be incredibly difficult for me.

So, let the battle begin! I'm gearing up mentally for my first chemo treatment, and praying that, if the Lord wills, I will tolerate it well.

More soon from the frontlines of the war.

So, I found out I have breast cancer...

Today I got the news I have been expecting since I had an ultrasound on my breast last week. I have breast cancer. I don't know anything about treatment yet. I don't know just how much this will turn my life upside down. I'm not afraid, just apprehensive and annoyed at the thought of so much change.

It actually started almost eight weeks ago, when I felt a lump in my left breast. My last mammogram was in December 2018, and it was clear. Fine. No worries. Then, in late November, I felt a lump that had not been there just a few weeks before. I went to my gynecologist on November 25th for my annual checkup. I had been sick with a bad cold for several weeks at that point, coughing and congested, and feeling poorly. My doctor said she thought it was a swollen lymph node. We agreed that I would wait until I was fully recovered and not coughing anymore, and then see if it was still there.

It was.

After Thanksgiving break, things got crazy with the end of my semester, grading papers and tests, and then Christmas and New Year's Eve. The first week of January rolled around, and Lumpie was still there. So on Tuesday, January 14th, I had a diagnostic mammogram and an ultrasound. A diagnostic mammogram is basically a regular mammogram, and then another mammogram with a magnifying lens in the machine and a different sort of "paddle" or "press" thingy that helps them target one area. During the ultrasound I could see Lumpie, and it did not look good. I think that was when I began to think that this was really cancer.

The next day, Wednesday, January 15th, they called me to schedule a biopsy.

The next day, Thursday, January 16th, they called me to schedule an appointment with a surgeon.

Yesterday, Wednesday, January 22nd, I had a biopsy done of Lumpie and of a sketchy-looking lymph node in my armpit.

Today, Thursday, January 23rd, my doctor called me with the news. Both Lumpie and the lymph node are malignant. I don't know what type yet, and I don't know what the next step is beyond going to meet with the surgeon.

Here are some things I do know:

God is good, and He loves me more than I can ever imagine.
He has given me a wonderful husband and three awesome children, as well as a sweet son-in-law and two beautiful granddaughters. They are my biggest fans.
I have incredible parents, siblings, cousins, friends, co-workers, and students. They will all support me and help me through this. Many of them have been through similar things and can speak words of wisdom and encouragement to me.
My heart is full when I consider all of these blessings.

Let the battle begin! More soon from the trenches...

On How Our School Year is Going...

It has been an eventful August and September, and October is already shaping up to be busy as well.  I love the new planner I bought.  It has helped Mary and Bobby be a lot more self-directed in their work.  We've (I've) also done a lot better staying organized this year, and keeping up with all the corrections and grading I need to do.  Here is our each of us are doing:


I am still teaching all three kids at home.  I also teach piano two afternoons a week, and have more people interested, so that may increase to three afternoons a week.  In addition, I'm teaching two classes on Fridays at our home school co-operative, Kingdom Builders.  The two classes are Expository Writing and Biology; I have a dozen students in each class.   I challenge anyone who thinks home schooling isn't a full-time job to come spend a week with us!


Caroline is working about 15 hours a week now (Chick-Fil-A) in addition to doing her Senior year. At home she's taking Pre-Calculus, Advanced Chemistry, Health, and Literature/Language Arts/Grammar.  Through the co-op she's taking my writing class to supplement her language arts at home, Art, and Yearbook/Advanced Photography.  She is a very busy girl!  She will graduate from high school next May, and is already in the process of college applications.


Mary is an 8th grader this year.  At home she's studying Algebra I, Sonlight Core 7 World History and Literature, Human Anatomy, BJU Grammar & Writing;  through the co-op she's taking Geography, Cooking, and Art.  She's also teaching herself to write left-handed this year by using an elementary-level handwriting book to make herself write left-handed every day.  She draws ALL the time, too.  She has also just joined a local American Heritage Girls troop, and will begin to work on badges for that.


Bobby is in the 6th grade, and he's realizing that school doesn't get any easier as you get older.  He's taking Geography, American History, and Art through the co-op; at home he's doing Math 7, Zoology (Land Animals,) Handwriting, BJU Grammar & Writing, and for Literature (the pièce de résistance) he is doing Literary Lessons from Lord of the Rings.  It's a great curriculum that incorporates Beowulf, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Shakespeare as well as the LOTR trilogy.  Right up his alley.  He is also a Tenderfoot rank scout in Troop 47 and is working on merit badges for scouts.


Obviously, we are all pretty busy.  Our other current events:


#1    My sweet husband will be stepping down as pastor of our current church at the end of October.  He has explained this over at his blog, in the post I linked and in another called "Reasons for Resigning."  We love the people at Chevis Oaks!  We will continue to be friends with them and I hope we'll continue to sharpen and edify one another as Christians.


#2   We were able to buy a nice four-year-old van a couple of weeks ago, thanks to the incredible generosity of my in-laws as well as the dogged efforts of our friend Rickey Tyre, who found the van for us at an auction.  It's such a relief to have an newer vehicle and not be worried about breakdowns, A/C not cooling well, etc. The van is a Dodge Grand Caravan SXT.  Nice.


#3    Bobby is the Honored Hero for the Savannah Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Light the Night Walk on October 15th.  Our family has a team, creatively named Team Carpenter, and we'll be walking that night along with hundreds of other Savannahians who are trying to raise money for people with various blood cancers.  Our team page is here.


#4    A month ago we bought a Wii, with Wii Fit Plus.  I'll write a longer post about it later, but we are all loving getting off the couch and playing sports as well as other fitness games together.  I have started to lose weight and tone up, and I feel so much better.  More soon on that.

It Isn't Cancer!

The doctor called me this afternoon and told me that the cells from the biopsy are NOT cancerous!  Praise the Lord!  I'm so grateful for the sense of peace that I had for the past week!  I realize now that I was holding on to some stress about it since when the doctor said it was benign I let out a huge sigh of relief.  He said they will keep an eye on it, see what it does, and do another ultrasound in a year.  Meanwhile, I'll be having a sleep study in a few weeks and then discussing with both my primary care doctor and the ENT the idea of increasing my thyroid medication in order to surpress this nodule.  We'll see.

Still Waiting for the Results

The Lord must be teaching me patience.  My doctor's office told me twice today that I would find out my biopsy results by this afternoon.  They never called.  Hmmm.......or is it Grrrrrrrr..........No, I'll wait patiently.

Our 18th Anniversary

Today is Eric's and my 18th anniversary. We met about 20 years ago, and I knew within a few weeks that he would be my husband. But that's a story for another time. What I want to write about today is the major events of our marriage. Just for fun.

July 5, 1991--married in Houghton, NY
May 1993--Eric graduates from Houghton College, I finish my Master's Degree from UB
February 17, 1994--Caroline Ruth born
May 1996--Eric completes Master's Degree from Alfred University
July 1996--we move to Springfield, GA
May 15, 1997--Mary Charlotte born
July 1998--we move to Rincon, GA
December 1, 1998--Robert James a.k.a.Bobby born
November 2000--Mary has cerebral aneurysm repaired successfully
July 2001--10th anniversary getaway at Jekyll Island
July 2002---we move to Wake Forest, NC
January 2005--trip to India
May 2006--Eric receives MDiv. from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary
October 2006--we move to India
March 2007--we return from India
March-May 2007--Bobby undergoes chemotherapy for Diffuse Large B-cell lymphoma
May 15, 2007--Mary turns 10, and Bobby finishes chemo
June 18, 2008--Eric called to pastor Chevis Oaks Baptist Church
February 20, 2009--Caroline gets learner's driving permit
May 15, 2009--Mary turns 12, Bobby celebrates two years in remission
July 5, 2009---18 years of marriage!

You can surmise the many things I've left off this list, and the details of each story. This list is a bare-bones outline of major events in our lives over the last 18 years. Along the way we have grown in our love for each other and our trust in the Lord. We have learned more (not everything yet!) about patience, suffering, trust, and God's providence than we knew at the beginning of our marriage. I thank God every day for my wonderful husband. I pray that we will continue to grow older together, ministering to each other and to those around us. Deo volente....

Things For Which I'm Thankful

(This is only a partial list and may be expanded later....)

My salvation. The Holy Spirit. His comfort and peace. His conviction of sin.
My wonderful husband. A good marriage. Laughter. Love.
Having grown up in a Christian home. My excellent parents and their patient wisdom.
My sweet children. Bobby's cancer is still gone. The girls are healthy and beautiful.
My great in-laws. My mother-in-law may very well be the best one ever. (I don't know all the mothers-in-law everywhere, so I shrink from making an absolute statement about how great she is....)
My allergies have abated somewhat, and are under control with Claritin and Flonase.
We have electricity 24/7. My washer and dryer work. We have heat. We can drink water straight from the tap.
Our church. What a blessing!
Good friends.
Chocolate.

In everything give thanks for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you. I Thess. 5:18

Vacation recovery, VBS, and Vertigo

We came home and spent a week recovering from our trip. Doing laundry, cleaning the house, finally doing my home school curriculum order, and spending some much-needed time with my husband filled the first week back. Then last week we had VBS at our new church. It kicked off on Sunday night and lasted through Thursday night, averaging 200 people each night. I helped in the Craft Shack, and had a blast. It was fun, if exhausting, to work with the children. I also had a great time getting to know the people I was working with. We are blessed to be at a church with a lot of people who have a great sense of humor and who enjoy laughing together.

The one blot on my week was on Tuesday morning when I woke up and the room was spinning. This condition, which is called vertigo, has plagued me a time or two before, and it comes from my having too much fluid in my inner ear canal. I usually take Zyrtec every day, and had forgotten to do so. Twice before vertigo has hit me in the evenings, which is not really a problem since I can just go to bed. This time it hit as soon as I got up. I couldn't keep my eyes open, or walk around without becoming nauseated. I spent the entire morning lying on the couch as perfectly still as I could. I took decongestant as well as Zyrtec, and by about 2 p.m. I could at least get up and walk around slowly, holding my head as steady as possible. I didn't go to VBS that night. On Wednesday I still felt a little dizzy, but by Thursday I was up'n'at'em.

On a very sad note, I read an e-mail today from my friend Denise, to find out that a little boy I've been praying for, Jair, has gone home to be with the Lord. He was fighting cancer and seemed to be doing great when, after the doctors tried an autologous bone marrow transplant, he reacted badly and became very ill. His parents, Teo and Lety, are now grieving the loss of their little boy. This hits me pretty hard. I can imagine their pain.

Also, this last week I tried to e-mail my friend Hilda in Puerto Rico, whose husband passed away in May due to cancer, and have not heard back. Nildi, I tried to write to you--did you get it? I love you!

Update...

David, the little boy I posted about last month, had to have more surgery early last week to remove more nodules of tumor. After only five weeks the ependymoma had begun to re-grow. I heard from his father, Jesse, yesterday, and David will begin his radiation on Monday, July 7. He has to have six weeks of radiation, five days a week. The whole family will be traveling down to Jacksonville, FL, for this treatment. They are experiencing a total disruption of normal life, and all of the terrible emotions that go along with having a child with cancer. Please pray for them as they go through this incredibly difficult time.

Another Reason for Bobby's Cancer

2 Corinthians 1:3-5 reads:

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 5 For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ.

Over the past year our family has seen many reasons for our having to go through something as difficult as Bobby's cancer. We have seen spiritual growth in ourselves and others around us, we have had opportunities to witness, and we have learned to be content in whatever situation God puts us in. (Okay--we're learning to be content...)

Now we have a new reason. Last week the social worker from the oncology clinic, Donna, called us to find out if we would be willing to reach out to another family whose little boy has just been diagnosed with cancer. She really wanted to know if we felt recovered enough to take on something like this, and I told her that we are. So Monday night we went out to eat with another family who are just starting out on the long journey of cancer treatment. I have not sought their permission to use their full names on here, so I'll just use first names.

Jesse and Vicky have three children ages 11, 8, and 4. A few weeks ago their lives were totally normal, with Jesse working as a pastor of a local Southern Baptist church, and Vicky working three night-shifts a week as a nurse at a local hospital. About three weeks ago, their oldest child, David, started to notice that his left foot wasn't feeling right. He was dragging it a little, and didn't feel like he could tell it what to do correctly. He told his parents that he was thinking what his foot should do, and it was not responding with the action. This condition worsened over a few days, and they sought medical help. Within a week they had their answer: David had a brain tumor.

Two weeks ago David had the tumor removed from his brain. The pathology report shows it to be an anaplastic ependymoma (translation: malignant, no-good, low-down, dirty-rotten cancer.) The doctors believe they got it all out during his surgery, but this does not mean that there aren't cancer cells hiding in the surrounding tissues. Because of this possibility, he is now facing eight weeks of radiation treatments. This sweet family's entire lives have been turned upside-down.

As we sat and talked with them Monday night, we realized just how thoroughly God has prepared us to be able to help, comfort, and encourage Jesse and Vicky. Bobby was able to answer a lot of questions for David and encourage him, too. We can share experiences, give advice, give comfort, pray with them, and uphold them during this time. It was nice for them to have somebody saying "We know exactly how you feel." It reminds me of last March when the Botelhos came to visit us in the hospital and we shared an immediate bond. There is the bond of brother/sisterhood in the Lord, and the bond of parents dealing with a child with cancer. We really do know how this family feels. We can now comfort them with the same comfort with which we have been comforted.

As for David, he's doing remarkable well. He is recovering from his tumor resection well, and only has residual weakness on his left side and loss of balance. He is starting physical therapy this week, and is also have a spinal tap to check his cerebro-spinal fluid for cancer cells.

How wonderful for our family to see that God will use us to come alongside this precious family and help them through this time. As we left the restaurant on Monday night, we gathered around David as he sat on a bench just outside the door. We laid hands on him and lifted our prayers for healing to our loving, gracious, merciful Father God. Please join me in praying for healing for David.

P.S. His mom is setting up either a caringbridge or a Care Pages web site for him. I'll post the link as soon as I get it.

A Year Ago....

Today marks one year since we returned from living in India so that our son Bobby could be treated for lymphoma. I can hardly believe it's been that long, and yet on the other hand it seems like it's been forever. I can truthfully say that it has been the hardest year of my life. We have faced the possible death of our son, watched him go through chemo and all that it brings, waited for results of scans to see if he's cancer-free (still waiting...) and had a total change of career and
direction in life. We are still waiting in that regard, also. What I have learned is that I must not give up trusting in the Lord and having faith that He is in control. Even when things seem dark and hopeless, "there is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still," as Corrie Ten Boom and her sister Betsy said in the concentration camp. In that vein, I've been thinking of these word by Samuel Trevor Francis today:

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!
Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me!
Underneath me, all around me, is the current of Thy love
Leading onward, leading homeward to Thy glorious rest above!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, spread His praise from shore to shore!
How He loveth, ever loveth, changeth never, nevermore!
How He watches o’er His loved ones, died to call them all His own;
How for them He intercedeth, watcheth o’er them from the throne!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, love of every love the best!
’Tis an ocean full of blessing, ’tis a haven sweet of rest!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, ’tis a heaven of heavens to me;
And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee!

I really like the ocean imagery, and the idea of a restful haven. Also, it reminds me of this passage in Ephesians. So we'll press on, knowing that God knows the plans He has for us, even if we don't. And even if this next year is as hard as the last one has been, or harder, I will still praise Him.

Our Hairs are Numbered

So, I haven't posted in almost three months, and several of my relatives--my Dad and Mom, brother Peter, and sister Mary--have all nicely nagged me to get back to writing. I sure haven't stopped thinking....I guess my problem is that I'm always thinking that I need to have something earth-shattering to write about before I can post, or that my posts must be finely-crafted, witty, worthy-of-publication pieces. Well, enough of that. I'm going to start writing several times a week, even if it's utter nonsense.

Lately I've been thinking about Luke 12:7 "Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered."

Our family read the verse last week during family devotions, in its context of Luke chapter 12. But that verse just keeps playing over and over in my head. It has taken on a whole new meaning for me. I've always thought of it this way: God knows us each intimately in every way, even our bodies. But I never really thought of its literal meaning--He actual knows EACH OF OUR HAIRS. This year that means much more to me. I watched my son lose all his hair in April and May, then remain bald for three months. He was devastated, and refused to let most people see him without a hat on his head. His hair re-grew during July and August, first coming back in dark brown and very fine, like baby hair. Today it is back to his normal thick, wavy, beautiful coppery-red. Just the thought that God knows each of Bobby's hairs, and has caused them all to re-grow, is a beautiful thing. It shows us just how detailed our Creator is. It also tells me that God knows every cell of Bobby's body, and is in control of his recovery from cancer. What an amazing God!

Can You Hold, Please?

Yesterday I spent almost half an hour on "hold" with our medical insurance company. I was checking on the injectable drug we need for Bobby (and still do not have a definitive answer as to when it's coming.) Now, you have to understand: I usually hate being on hold. It seems like such a waste of time. Usually my blood pressure rises and I can feel my annoyance level soar. But yesterday, as the woman I was dealing with kept coming back on the line and saying "Can you continue to hold?" I made up my mind not to be impatient. I popped myself some kettle corn, wrote some thank you notes, and made a to-do list. I figured it was better to use the time wisely than to just sit there fuming. The insurance lady seemed pretty surprised that I was still cheerful after twenty-five minutes. I apologized for crunching popcorn in her ear, and she reassured me that it was okay. Hmmmm...

Even though I still got no answers, I have been thinking about this experience a lot since then. I think that I was able to handle it better than I have in the past because of everything we have been going through lately. In a sense, our lives are on hold right now. We are constantly waiting--for blood counts to come back, to see how Bobby reacts to a particular drug, for an IV infusion to end, and now for the PET scan which isn't until May 30th. Living life on hold is very stressful. We are waiting to see what God is going to do next in our lives, and because Eric and I are both planners, this is difficult. I prefer to know things ahead of time, make a list, and get things done. Right now it's easy to get anxious, living on hold. Sometimes I feel my pressure start to rise, my stress increase; it is at these times that I have to purpose in my heart and mind to be patient. The Psalms help a lot: check out Ps. 27:12; 33:20; 37:7; and 40:1. I have to remind myself each day to be still and know that He is God. I also have been looking for worthwhile things to do to occupy the time as we live "on hold." I realize that I do have lots of time to spend with my husband and children, caring for them. I have been able to read some good books. I don't have to put everything on hold just because some of our major life decisions are in limbo. The other thing I remind myself of is that God is the one in control here, and He knows what's going to happen when life clicks back on the line. I don't need to worry about it! And unlike our insurance people, He has all the answers, and will give us what we need to know when we need it.

A Whole New World...

Our family has entered a new realm with this cancer thing. On Bobby's Caring Bridge site I'll be keeping everyone up-to-date on his care, whereas on this blog I'll just be journaling my own thoughts and reactions.
So, honestly--this cancer world is a club we never wanted to join. It's the kind of thing that you are thrust into unaware. It reminds me of being at youth group pool parties in high school...not planning on going swimming for whatever reason...and suddenly being pushed into the pool. At first there's total shock. The water is cold, you have trouble catching your breath, and you may feel really angry. There's nothing you can do at that point--you're already soaked, you're completely in the pool, so you may as well join the rest of the swimmers and have some fun. It's the "fun" part where the analogy breaks down a little. Nothing about this situation is really very fun.
Of course, our family tries to have fun and laugh no matter what happens, but these days a lot of humor rings hollow for me. I'm finding it ironic that my husband preached on the topic of suffering the first weekend in January. I'm having trouble understanding how we are ever going to regain a sense of normalcy in our lives. I'm lonely for my friends from North Carolina. I'm lonely for my friends in India. I'm working on rebuilding friendships with people here in the Savannah area, where we haven't lived for four years. I'm discovering that the promises we read so nonchalantly in the Bible are true: God gives us peace, He'll never forsake us, if we lack wisdom we just need to ask, He created us and knows us and the plans He has for us. These are the truths to which I'm clinging these days.
I hope that over the next few months I can still find time to read good books, watch good movies, and have some intellectual life beyond learning everything I can about Burkitt's lymphoma and all the anti-cancer drugs which are used to treat it. But even if I don't--I do know that this entire situation can bring glory to God. I keep thinking of that song "Let my lifesong sing to you..." That's what I desire. (On a sarcastic note--Eric and I used to sing that song as "Let Mike Nifong sing to you..." People from the Raleigh area will know what that's about...) Seriously, I pray that our lives through this trying time will glorify the Lord. What more could we ask?

Please visit Bobby's website

I won't be blogging on here more than just occasionally. Please visit:

www.caringbridge.org/visit/bobbyc

to see how our lives are going. THANKS!

La vida te da sorpresas, sorpresas te da la vida...

Okay, so the title of this post is taken from an old song in Spanish called "Pedro Navaja." It translates as "life gives you surprises, surprises are given you by life." Now, I know that God is in control of my life, so it's not as though I believe in some mystical "nature" or "fate" that determines my life. But life sure is full of surprises!

There we were, living overseas, adjusting to the culture, learning the language, and making good friends, when suddenly....

POW!! We get hit right between the eyes with a BIGGIE, a HUGE change....and we can only withstand the stress and pressure of this change because we have the Holy Spirit abiding in us, comforting, teaching, and giving peace.

So, most of you who bother to check this blog occasionally (and have given up on my EVER updating it) already know what this huge change has been. For any newcomers, here it is:

From one day to the next a large lump appeared on my son's neck and another lump surfaced in his throat. We consulted doctors and they determined that it was some type of lymphoma. We packed up everything in two days, flew back to Savannah, GA, and got him treated here--and yes, it is lymphoma. Our eight-year-old son has a rare kind of cancer called Burkitt's lymphoma. He is now in chemo and our lives will never be the same again...or at least they won't be for quite some time. I am going to be journaling and keeping posts on this at another website called Caring Bridge. That website will basically become my blog.

What have we learned so far through this experience?

1. God is good all the time, and He gives peace and strength as needed for each hour.
2. We are INCREDIBLY blessed with family and friends--so much so that I don't know how some people go through a time like this without this level of support. We have so many people who have said "Call me no matter what time it is, tell me what you need, how can we help?...etc." and the amazing thing is that they really mean it!
3. We have also been blessed with great children. Our girls have been phenomenal so far through this, and our son--depite some grumbly moments in the hospital--is handling things really well.

I have felt the Lord's presence closely over the past several months as we lived overseas, and more so over these last few weeks. He has truly been "the God of all comfort" to me.