Tale of the Twins - Part 3

[Continued from Part 2]

I've read horror stories of other women who had doctors that treated it as eczema for MONTHS, only to find out later that it was, indeed, cancer - and the delay in treating it as so had progressed it even further.

Have you ever seen a black breast? I don't think I could stand to google anything related to breast, lesion, itchy, pus - whatever - anymore. The images are already burned into my head.

My lesions got worse over the weekend, and on Monday morning, I was placing another call to my primary physician. They squeezed me in that same afternoon and Hubz met me at the doctor's office.

A second set of questions. A second breast exam.

Except this time, the doc gave me a cream to rub on the lesions, and set me up for more doctor appointments:

• One with the surgeon
• One with the dermatologist
• And one with a mammography technician
  

Thank GOD he jumped on this and didn't make me wait everything out, one by one. He even gave me some meds to deal with the hives that were still hangin' around.

And you know what?

I saw results the VERY next day. Hallelujah.

Cream, cream and more cream. Whatever it was, it was working. And when I met with the surgeon, the twins were lookin' much, MUCH better.

Breast cancer on top of the skin is very rare. And highly unusual to have it on both breasts. But it still needed to be ruled out

So when we did the mammography the following week, we took scans of every possible angle in existence. You can imagine my joy, 2 weeks later and 6 weeks since that first sign, when I received a letter in the mail that said:

"No evidence of cancer was seen on your mammogram."

Thank the Lord!

And thank you to all of you who for your well wishes and all your support. I had no idea what happened, or what caused this - and neither do the doctors. I'm still dealing with it today, and with the hives I had on the side, I'm left with scars all over my arms and legs.

But you know what? I'd take the scars over the other - any day.


[Click here for "Tale of the Twins" Part 1 and Part 2]

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Tale of the Twins - Part 2

[Continued from Part 1]

Hubz was already at work and Mama was halfway across the world in the Philippines. There wasn't anything they could do just then so I figured I'd just wait until Hubz got home.

Skin rash? On both breasts? But it doesn't get any better.

Later that evening, I'd decided to check the twins, and found that they had stuck to my bra.

Did that come out right?

Taking the bra off was like peeling off a band-aid, and a close inspection told me I now had an orangey-green crust inside my bra, coming from said rashes.

Holy shit.

Did I tell you they weren't even rashes anymore? They were secreting pus (ugh!), and looked like open sores. Lesions.

I thought I was going to cry.

But I'm not a crier. And especially not in public. Not even if I wanted to. Oh, watery eyes, yes. A sting in my nose, yes. But if I end up shedding any tears, it's usually out of pure frustration. Or utter empathy.

Instead I went straight to the bathroom and started scrubbing. And to my horror, I watched what looked like little beads of sweat start to appear on the lesions I had just scrubbed clean.

But it's not sweat. It's friggin' pus.

Hubz is home now and, of course, I'm starting to freak out. But the "T" in him balances me out and assures me it's probably just some kind of rash.

I love that about us... We've developed some kind of system in knowing who has to be the stronger one, and when.

And even if I didn't agree, I let myself mirror his thoughts, and said another prayer. I gave it to God, and put it out of my head. We agreed to wait a few days, and if it didn't get better, we'd call the doctor's office.

I made the call on Friday. Except he wasn't there that day. And when they heard why I was calling, they got me in that morning to see another doctor.

In the doctor's office, I stayed calm and lighthearted. Had a nice conversation with both the nurse and the doctor, who had me undress and gave me a breast exam as well.

I liked the doc, she listened and asked questions. She didn't make me feel like I was being a silly, paranoid woman or like I was eating up her time.

But I read her face. And she was worried.

She'd never seen anything like this before, and wasn't quite sure what to do. So we decided to treat it like eczema, and to come back in a week for a follow up.

The next Friday, things were lookin' up. This miracle cream may be made for cattle, and even if these ones hadn't been milked in a while, Bag Balm sure did help.

What a relief!

But the weekend came and soon changed my spirits...

[To be continued... Click here for Tale of the Twins - Part 1 of 3]

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Tale of the Twins - Part 1

I've been wanting to write this for a while now... just couldn't figure out how to put it.

So I figured I'd just give it to ya straight.

For all of April, and most of May, I saw one of 3 doctors every week, and even got a mammogram. I had chronic hives that would NOT go away, leaving me to scratch my skin raw, without even realizing it until I drew blood.

I was so embarrassed, I hardly left the house.

My mammography technician was as sweet as pie, and during the hour-and-a-half process, I learned that these usually take about 15 minutes.

So what the hell happened with me?

They were looking for cancer.

It happened on a Monday. I was in the shower, and noticed I had a bump on the left breast. Not inside, mind you.

It was on the outside, on my areola. About the size of a nickel. WTF?

I got a closer look at it, and blinked my eyes - wondering if I was seeing things???

It had a strange layer of film over it, that was peeling. And FUCK. It was tender to the touch. And it itched like hell.

But this was just the beginning. I checked the right breast, and whoa - there's another one there. Same spot, just under the nipple.

Not as big (about the size of a dime), but in the same general area.

Still in the shower, I'm trying not to wig out. I wash and scrub, and wash my hands over and over again - afraid it might be some type of contagious rash and not wanting it anywhere else on my body.

I try to be as normal as possible. I get Joel settled and grab my laptop out of the office. We plump down on the sofa and while he's hollering answers at Noggin', I'm answering emails.

I'm trying not to think about it. I'm wondering what the hell could it be - and soon switch to the home laptop.

Now try googling "breast rash nipple areola" and see what you get.

See if you don't start to see the words "cancer" and "paget's" and "misdiagnosis."

I was freaking myself out. I started to think, "What if?" and began to imagine my boys growing up without their mother...

I had to pull myself away from it all, and offer up my prayers. And did my darndest to let it go.

"His shoulders can carry more than ours, right?"

And then I waited.

[To be continued...]

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You're Kidding. Graduation?

He graduates today. Middle School. Which means that this fall, he'll be entering a whole other dimension than what he's used to:

High School.

As if the campus isn't intimidating enough, especially coming from a small private school with 40 kids in the entire 8th grade. I hope he'll remember the letter we wrote to him at the beginning of the year. A letter addressing one of his greatest gifts...

August 12, 2007

Dear Josiah,

     What is the most important gift given to you by God? At first, I thought it might be your creative intellect. Smart and innovative (maybe not as organized!), but always looking for a better way. Then I thought it might be your optimism, your complete outlook on life, in general, and on a whole. But then, quick as a whisper… it came to me.

     Patience. It’s your gift of serenity from the Lord, allowing you to endure, tolerate and persevere. It’s where your ability to be positive and keep your cool comes into play. “Don’t worry, be happy.” Is that not your theme song?! You can be in the midst of a half dozen chores or minding your two crazy brothers during one of my conference calls – and even I have to stand back and admire your staying power.

     I love watching you gently teaching your brothers about something, anything new. I love how maturely you handle yourself, even when I lose my own temper. I know you’ll acknowledge this gift, and use it to stay true to yourself and your course in life.

     In this new year of school, remember it as new challenges arise, as well as in adverse or awkward situations. You’re 13! An adolescent with questions and uncertainties, I know you’ll have the patience to find the right answers in time.

     Remember we’re here for you always. It warms my heart to hear about your prayers during the course of the day. Let’s work on taking time daily to say your prayers regularly, to praise God, ask for guidance, and to thank Him for all of our wonderful blessings.

With Love and Faith,

Mom & Dad     

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change,
Courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Amen.”

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In My Dreams

actually slept last night.

No middle of the night wakings from the kids. No chronic heat rash causing me to rip my skin raw. No Samson coming in to tell me he needed to go outside. No clock alarms going off at 3:45am to get ready to leave for 8th grade camp.

I went to bed just before 1am, and didn't wake up until my alarm went off at 7:30am.

When's the last time that happened?

I'm lucky if I get 5 hours of sleep in. Was it because I slept on his side last night? He'll be home today... maybe I just miss him.

But sleeping - means dreaming. For me, at least. And last night, I'm not sure if sleeping was a good thing or not.

I had the... strangest dream last night...

We were in a loft. A cabin, maybe? No kids around, just us. Actually, it was me and the hubby, and he had a friend over. They were about to leave and were getting ready to pull the old fashioned car out of the garage. (Looked more like a barn to me.)

I was still upstairs, thinking about how hubby had pulled a bucket out to sit on it and examine his fingernails. (A bucket?!)

He had been asking me, "What do you think of these?" (Showing me his fingers.) "Do you think they look gross?"

He has - in real life - a problem with biting his nails. His nails and cuticles - I keep bandaids in the car for him and the kids.

But since when did he ever care what they looked like?

I ran down to catch him before they pulled out, and hollered out to him from the stairs.

>>"What does she think of them?"

Confusion creeps into his eyes.

>>"Your nails. Does she think they're gross?"

And the reality of my words took effect, as if I had thrown a brick clear into his face.

Halfway out, he stops the car. He looks at the steering wheel. Then me. And then as if to shrug his shoulders to say, "I don't know how it happened..."

But he didn't have a chance to get it out. I had already turned on my heels to go back upstairs.


The scene changes, and we're now at my mom's. It's a different place than what it is now - and in this one, JC is kickin' it with me in the room, keeping me company, as I figure out what to wear that night. Hubby and I are going out to dinner.

To talk.

I haven't told my mom anything. Haven't told anyone anything. Still trying to figure out what to do.

In my dream, I'm thinking - "This isn't the first time. This has happened before. At least they didn't sleep together. Made out, yes. But they didn't have sex."

And this converations continues in my head, in my dream and in real life:

"Shit. In my book, any kind of intimacy outside of a marriage - be it a physical or emotional attachment - is an act of betrayal. You don't have to have sex to cheat on your spouse."



And then I woke up to "Enough" from Chris Tomlin...

♪♪ All of You is more than enough for all of me

For every thirst and every need

You satisfy me with Your love

And all I have in You is more than enough ♪♪

I KNOW in my heart the Lord is talking to me. My God (literally) - what are the chances of having a dream like that - and waking up to this Christian song? I can still feel the hurt, the pain and confusion from my dream. The angst of the truth and not knowing exactly how to deal with it.

I know He's telling me something... and I'm pretty darned that it's not my hubby cheating on me. It's something else...

Is this a forewarning? Of something yet to come?

If so, then I think I just figured out what I'll need to do...

Turn it over to Him.

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Two Trees to Live By

If you've had a chance to read my "About the Author" page or my post about my mother's brain aneurysm surgery, then you already know I'm a struggling Christian.

I feel like I've been having the same conflicts going on inside of me, over and over again...

But after the service today at church... I felt a warm and loving tenderness envelope my heart... It was as if the pressure had been lifted off my shoulders, assuring me that it shouldn't be so hard to live as a Christian, and that I'm not the only one who takes self-led guilt trips about something I shouldn't have said, shouldn't have done.

Between two trees, one can find a new way to live... one can choose the "Tree of Life" or the "Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil."

In making this decision, our pastor exposed three myths that are floating around in the church...

I was so relieved to learn about these myths - I felt compelled to share what touched me so deeply...

MYTH #1
"I can live the Christian life."

Can I? Really? Can I walk in the same steps as Jesus did, lead a perfect life?

No, I can't. Only Jesus can do that.


"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." -Gal. 2:20

MYTH #2
"Jesus wants to be #1 in my life."

Do you have a list of priorities in your life? As a Christian, it might look something like this:

1) Jesus
2) Family
3) Self

But how can you put Jesus at the top of a list? There is no prioritizing the list. He IS the list.


"For to me, to live is Christ." -Phil 1:21

MYTH #3
"WWJD"

What would Jesus do? But instead, it should be "Watch what Jesus Does"


"We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ. To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me."
-Col 1:28-29

Our pastor broke it down for us:

Between the two trees, the Tree of Life represents a relationship with God. The Tree of Knowledge represents rules. The Tree of Life represents trust in the Lord. The Tree of Knowledge... Trying to live the Christian life.

Key word: TRYING

Which describes exactly what I've been doing. Trying to live the Christian life.

What I didn't get before, what I didn't understand until today... is that I don't need to try.

I need to TRUST.

Trust in the Lord. In His plan. And today I pray, pray to stop trying and start trusting. I know how naive this sounds. How realistic is this? But I also know this is just the beginning of a new journey.

Have you been down this road before? Or maybe you're like me, and are in between the two trees...

Credits: Pastor Steve Harms, Neighborhood Church, Grace Walk by Steve McVey;
The Rest of the Gospel by Dan Stone & David Gregory; Classic Christianity by Bob George

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A Sister's Heart: Part II

(Continued from "A Sister's Heart, Part I")

The following morning, she rises from a sleepless night, and sneaks out of bed before waking her husband. The night before wasn't much more than the typical homework and bedtime routines. The usual standoff's in an attempt to push "lights out" just a little bit later than normal. But after that: Quiet.

She couldn't talk about the phone call with her brother. Not to her mom, not to her husband... She had never spoke so directly to her brother like that, not in their adult lives. Always holding back, not wanting to tell him what to do or what he should do... not wanting to influence his decisions.

And not wanting to push him away.

But He must've heard her prayer, for she found the resolve to speak her mind. Her heart. And her fears.

One Christmas, she gave him the movie "Men of Honor" - because it so reminded her of him. Who he is and what he stands for. Truly, a man in his greatest worth.

But where is this man? He makes an appearance here and there, but his presence isn't as strong anymore. It's as if something has taken over... clouded his thoughts, and his decisions.

She is at the edge of her seat, wanting to physically shake his shoulders if he were near. "Stand up for your family, damn it!"

But he doesn't see it that way. He IS standing up for his family.

His new family.

He's young and newly married. With a baby on the way. He doesn't understand "family values" as a whole. He asked me, "What does it say in the Bible?"

"Honor thy father and mother!" I replied.

But he wasn't talking about that. He was referring to Genesis. How man and woman will leave their father's house to make a life for their own. Doesn't see the point of calling your family regularly, or even to stop by on Christmas. He has his own family to take care of.

But she reminds herself that she was once there, too... She remembers being a young, newly married mother. Busy playing house and self centered and inconsiderate of the efforts those put forth around you.

She remembers.

And she can see it happening now, in front of her. She sees them drifting apart, for reasons more complicated than they need to be, and more.

She tells him this, and he listens. They agree that they've both been holding back, and there's no need to do so. And after several more disagreements, they agree to give it to God, that whatever happens will be His will.

It's the first time they've talked so openly for so long, without the polite salutations.

Afterwards, she reflects for a moment before leaving the seclusion of her bedroom. And she is ever hopeful, that this will help change the way things are. She sees her brother in a slightly new light, and is thankful he took the time to call her back.

Thankful that her son had little league practice that night, so that her husband would actually be home before 8pm. Thankful that she made dinner early that night. Thankful that the Lord is always so faithful.

***

This is it. I'm letting go. I know they say to give your problems to the Lord. But how can I pray for Him to keep me safe in the car and not put on my seat belt?

I still need to do my part. And with His strength, I have. I'm ready to let go, and let live.

I love you, B...

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A Sister's Heart, Part I

Piles of paperwork surround her in the kitchen. School notices, practice schedules, bills to be paid, and taking center stage: High school registration forms that need to be completed before the next morning’s meeting. Her eldest is selecting courses for his freshman year.

The phone rings. It’s him.

“Hello. Hello?”

It’s the usual “Hi, how are you?” and “How was your day…” In between the 6-year old’s questions and the 3-year old’s demands for more drawings, she strains to hear him. She scrambles for her Bluetooth headset and does something that surprises both herself and her family. She leaves the chaos where it is to seek some quiet time in her bedroom.

And slowly… her heart begins to open up. She’s nervous about telling him everything. What she sees. What he’s doing about it. What he’s not doing. What she’s not doing. And especially, how they’re relationship has changed… how distant it’s become.

She misses him. But more importantly, she’s concerned for him. Never mind that their relationship has always been a bit skewed. It doesn’t help to remember how cold, how brutal she was to him as a teenager. She still flinches when she thinks about times that she’d whack him upside the head. In front of his friends. For what? She can’t recall. Probably irritating her in some slight degree with her reacting in full force.

She had issues. Problems. Things you don’t talk about in public. Or to anyone, for that matter. Things you know you'll take to your grave to protect your children, your family. To spare the pain from those closest to your heart.

Years later, she brings up their childhood to apologize, and he won’t hear it. He had almost forgotten it all and gave her the pardon she didn’t think she was going to get. In spite of her unexplained behavior, he had forgiven her.

And now, she sits on the recliner in her bedroom, door shut. The first time her husband walked in, he just stood there and looked at her. Wondering who in the world she was talking to. But it only took him half a minute. He quickly figured it out and took the boys outside to play before the sun set.

The conversation on the phone has turned. Both are heated. And both have very, very good points. She can almost feel him slipping… in her mind she fast forwards 5 years from that moment and doesn’t see him and his family around the Christmas tree. The image forcefully kicks in. Something comes up and he puts her on hold. The timing couldn’t have been better ‘cause she doesn’t want him to hear her. She takes advantage of the unexpected stillness and silently finishes a quick prayer.

He’s back on the line now, and they take it up again in hushed, tender steps. Her husband comes back to check on her, stands in front of her, hands on his hips with his head tilted to get a glimpse of her face.

She refuses to make eye contact him. She knows that if she were to look him in the eyes, if she connected with him, if he even reached out to hug her, touch her… That the slightest human connection would fracture the dam. And then there would be nothing to hold back the flood.

(To be continued...)

"A Sister's Heart: Part II"

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No More Percocet

Growing up, I've always heard phrases like, "Give your problems to Lord," and "His shoulders can carry more than yours."

But I could never really understand HOW to do it. "How do you give your problems away?" I'd ask myself. "They'll still be there for you to deal with it afterwards. I don't understand."

Today I learned that the mother of a hotel manager in our region just recently had brain surgery. For an aneurysm.

A flood of memories rushed over me, and I silently thanked God for always being so faithful. Some may remember, that my own mother (Mama, as the boys call her), had the same surgery in November 2002. Except she was on the table for 12 hours instead of the scheduled 6.

After the craniotomy (operation to open the skull), her neurosurgeon was greeted with a surprise: A second aneurysm. Which explains why the surgery took twice as long as expected.

That's a long time to be on the operating table, a long time to keep steady hands, and a long time for those of us on the outside, waiting for any updates. I kept my journal with me, writing down any thoughts that came to mind and prayers that brought me comfort. I tried to keep myself distracted but every time I found myself starting to worry again, I'd pray. Pray for her strength, pray for the doctors and nurses operating on her, pray for a successful surgery, pray for acceptance of God's will... whatever the outcome may be.

We caught a glimpse of her as they were moving her to ICU after surgery... The image of her laying on the stretcher, motionless and swollen with her head wrapped in gauze.... It was both frightening and reassuring. To see her in such a vulnerable state - but OH, so thankful that she made it out of there.

The next couple of weeks were a daze... my Dad and I took turns in ICU with her, the other trying to catch some sleep on a waiting room sofa. He came running to get me one moonlit night when Mama became unreasonable and forceful - she was completely outside herself. I soon learned that certain medications caused her to act and behave differently. We eventually got her to calm down, and later she was stabilized and moved into recovery. The nursing staff even brought me a cot to sleep on so that I could stay by her side.

I woke up with a start one morning, shocked to see her sitting up in bed by herself. Even more so without the bandages on her head anymore, but simply tossed onto her lap like an afterthought as she struggled to remove her leg massagers.

I WAS SILENTLY WIGGIN' OUT.

"Hi Mom - what are you doing?" I asked, calmly. Trying NOT to stare at the metal staples now exposed on her head.

A child-like voice came out of the grown woman in front of me. "Oh, nothing..." Pause. "I think I'd like to go to the bathroom."

"Okay," I replied, and motioned to the leg massagers, "Can I get that for you?"

I think she was relieved because she let out a breath and leaned back to let me help her. Like a child. Talking to me with her little voice, all of a sudden making me feel like we've somehow switched roles. Later on, Papa (my Dad) brought us McDonald's and when I didn't finish my breakfast, she actually ate my leftovers.

Mama NEVER eats anyone's leftovers.

I told the nurse, "No more Percocet."

A week or so later, she was released from the hospital and I stayed with her and Papa at the house for a while. Joseph brought over the recliner so she could sleep more comfortably, and he took another week off from work to watch the boys.

But then I finally returned home, alone for the first time since the surgery that took place 2 weeks before. Exhausted in mind, body and heart, I waited for the waterfall of tears to take over as I entered the serenity of being in my own house.

And you know what happened?

Stillness. An unexpected peace. No emotions held back, no dam of tears trying to break through. I stretched my arms outward, tilted my head back with eyes shut to the world and took a deeeeeeep breath.

"So this is what it feels like," I said to myself. And my life changed in that moment.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

-Philippians 4:6-7

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Chocolate vs. Cussing

Skinny *ss doesn't understand why I set up a blog. "I don't get it. Who's gonna read it? Seriously, what's the point of it?"

"Oh, I dunno... I guess it's me just reaching out. A way for me to express myself. Kinda like when someone gets a tattoo?"

But after that conversation, it sorta deflated me. What was the point of keeping a blog if you couldn't share it? Then work got busy and everybody got sick, so I didn't really have to choose NOT to write. I got some sort of bronchial infection and was taking as many as 5 meds at a time. Then poor Baby Joel got sick and I spent my birthday trying to find enough strength to mind his fevers.

Ten days at fevers up to 104 with a cough and cold - Doc said it was just a virus. UGH! I swear, I was ready to raise up a storm come day 11. What happened to 3-day fevers?! Thank the Lord for your prayers - the fever finally broke on President's Day.

So Joel and I are getting better and dishin' up strawberry ice cream. Did I tell you? Josiah suggested I give up chocolate for Lent.

I agreed.

Then on the first day, he got a revelation.

"Mom!! You should give up cussing for Lent!!"

I just looked at him, astounded. Obviously, I didn't think that would be possible. Not with my potty mouth. People still trip out that I can put the f word in just about anything - you'd hear me holler "Uneffingbelievable!" because of the fools at Costco who screw up my receipt. I mean - come ON. I already sorted and packed everything in my bags and boxes, they undercharge me for 30 cents on a case of water, then send me to customer service so they can charge me the correct amount for the case of 1 liter bottles, but forget to credit me for the 2nd case of 16 oz bottles. Translation: I ended up paying for 3 cases of water instead of the 2 that I had.

Can you imagine? Me, in Costco with 3 hungry monsters in tow, a flatbed STOCKED FULL and PACKED meticulously - and I had to go through all THAT because my cashier screwed up? You should've seen the faces on the other customers when I had to bust a yoo-ey with that flatbed. I got cheated. (sigh) But who has time to go back and argue with them. I should've triple checked my receipt before leaving, even IF I had to stand in line forever with just 5 checkout standouts open and 4 people in front of me at customer service. Guess I just wanted to get home.

Now I'm just ranting. I need to tell you about an even better idea Josiah got. Between chocolate and cussing, he gets excited and says, "Maybe you could give up BOTH!!!"

I laughed out loud. No friggin' way. Not possible. I've struggled with this in the past, off and on again. "A christian who cusses?" But everyone has their own vices, and I would eventually talk myself into thinking it's not a big deal, maybe I can just curb it a bit....

Later on, we went to Chuck E' Cheese's for Joel's 3rd birthday and on the way home, it came to me. A rock. Upside my head. Made me think I could actually do it.

"JC - I'll do both."

Surprisingly, the chocolate part's been - lol - a piece of cake. But today, after picking up JC from school we had to take off to run errands at Costco and Target. After feeding the dog we had to leave and I asked JC, "Do you think Samson will snap on the floor?"

He shook his head - and then we both started busting up. Hey - at least I'm making progress.

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