Response

I hope I can use what experience and knowledge I was given to share with my community.  There's a lot of people out there who have cancer or have loved ones with cancer.  20% will be diagnosed with cancer, so they say.  I just wish I could comfort all of them. 


I was lucky; it never crossed my mind that God was responsible for my cancer. My first thought was, God, I need your help to get me through this. God, I need your help to get the ones who love me through this. After that uncertain and anxious time is safely past, I can see just how God answered my prayers.


When I received my diagnosis of Hodgkin’s lymphoma, I was two weeks beyond my 27th birthday. I was six months newly married. I was for eight months a baptized Christian. In this way, my foundation was set to propel me through doubt and despair. Being baptized, starting a new journey in faith, I was made bold in the belief that my God is good and He would not forsake me. I have often wondered “what if” – what would it have looked like had I not made that commitment to Christ? Yet my baptism and marriage went hand in hand. My husband, who led the way for me to become Christian, would always guide me forward. I thank God for the day I met the man who would be my partner and who would stay steadfast in the face of suffering in a fledgling marriage.

When taken into perspective, the situation during treatment just seemed to work out. We were blessed that Wilbur’s employer offered me health insurance. We happened to have moved away to an area with excellent and easily accessible medical care. Still, we were near enough to family so my mother could look after me. I lost my job, but that forced me to stay home and recuperate. We prayed, a lot. A lot of people prayed for us. I decided that whatever happened, God would provide a way. I won’t be afraid or discouraged. God will be with me wherever I go.

It took some patience to gain perspective on this experience.  Deep down I sought out to make it purposeful.  Maybe through this sort of affliction, I could grow stronger in character, to be a more faithful Christian, and to provide for others.  What I do understand is how suffering touched me and then how grace was shown to me.   
Actually, it was at Evergreen Baptist Church where I received my baptism. When I finally moved back to Evergreen after treatment, it struck me – I’m so lucky.

Post Scan

July 28 was the last PET.  I think I'm getting good at them now.  I had to peek at the scans before I left; however indecipherable they were to me, I knew there was no new activity.  Relief was mental, emotional, and even physical.  Upwards and onwards, starting now.  I'm not holding back, I'm trying to juggle things all at once -- I feel like a dam breaking loose.  Time will tell if it was ambitious to move forward so quickly.  I feel like I should know better, be smarter in the aftermath.  Or, am I still the amateur?  If it's not the right choice, life will be that much more difficult.
July 28 was my last day in the desert. 

Recovery

Port, out! Awoke at the hairline fracture of dawn to get to the surgery center by 6:15.  It was no problem, as I am all full of warm and fuzzy feelings for my fellow LA ex-pat surgeon and his professed love of all things Cantonese.  And there is no way I can behave curmudgeonly when my favorite man takes the day off to be at my beck and call.  I know he's dedicated when he's actually conscious and ready to go before I am.  Did he even sleep??  I wish he was more relaxed; the procedure was described as under thirty minutes and something I could transport myself home from.  Hey, just install a drive-thru window, equip a latte machine, and we're good to go. 

• Local anesthesia - i.e. repeated poking by a sharp object until you don't say ouch anymore
• Port extraction - something like a tooth extraction, per the doctor
• Cauterization - he's barbequing
• Suturing - he questions aloud if it's monocryl, and I feel its raggedy texture

FYI, surgeons, quit with the running commentary when your patient is awake.  Yea, I don't want to hear how the procedure is "easier said than done" while you're struggling in my vein. 
Afterwards, breakfast (an event so rarely shared with husband), movie, and world cup.  Nice day eh?

I'mma space bound rocketship!

lumpy bumpy

I just feel silly, worrying all the time. I know there's no way the lymphoma can come back so easily. Port removal scheduled for the bottom of the month. Local anesthesia, 30 min procedure.

onemonth

Lots of phantom pain, anxiety, hypotheticals.
Does my armpit feel funny? If I'm always lightheaded, can that be a sign? Why is my right neck swollen again? Is that a node? I know it's not, but it's hard not to think it.
I see the surgeon on thursday to arrange for the port to be removed, but I'm always wondering, what if?

So considerate

Modeling wigs for my benefit.

I have the prettiest husband ever.

Land, ho!

Ahoy, mateys, this title isn't so much what the pimp says to his pilotess, but the sign that the journey's end is in sight. Now we wait two months until I am cleared to have the next PET scan, and we wait on taking the port-a-cath out. That's right baby, things are looking up.