I thought it might be good to log some thoughts along the way, a precursor to my major surgery on Tuesday. Just a little re-cap of how it’s all gone so far. Because I’m sure these vivid days will fade and will be all but forgotten if I don’t.
I can honestly say I’m doing fine. It’s been a great, great learning experience, and I’ve felt overwhelmingly carried. Loved, at peace, joyful, even energetic and strong. But admittedly, days here and there have been sprinkled with tears. Not as often as I’d thought, but showing up at the most random times. I cried the evening after I found out. Alone in my bathroom with Todd. Sobbing. Because I just didn’t know if I was going to die or stay awhile longer. I was overwhelmingly sad for him, I’ll be so unattractive when I’m bald and cut apart, our life will change in small but significant ways, and he’ll have to deal with so much and carry such a heavy burden. But that seemed to be my main crying spell. It was a good few minutes, a release, a normal response I imagine. There have been quiet moments, alone with Todd, when I realize things will never quite be the same. But I don’t dwell on it too long; just seems like a waste of energy to stress about things I can’t change. And so I indulge for a moment, admitting to myself that I’m sad about it, but I move on. There’s so much more to use good energy on!
Unexpectedly, in the beginning I didn’t have any idea how to pray about it. I didn’t feel like it was my place to ask to be preserved if that wasn’t His will, so I just sort of avoided the whole topic at first. After a few days I realized all I had in me to pray for was for help to see this through His eyes. If He thought I was ready for this, then I knew He’d help me through it. Whatever it ended up looking like. I prayed for strength to accept His ideas. And so far, those days of not knowing have been the hardest part. Waiting for results and wrestling with my emotions, trying to align my will with His. That if He thought this would be best for our family eternally, then I would try to come to terms with that, I would try to accept it. I hated even thinking about the possibilities. I wondered if dying might be eminent. I wondered if that would be the best for our family, I tried to wrap my head around it. And I have to admit, I gave him my thoughts. I told Him I would work even harder, that I would could get more done on this side of the veil than the other. I wonder if he laughed a little.
As the weeks have progressed, the most overwhelming feeling I have when I talk to Him is gratitude, just overwhelming thankfulness. For living in a time and place with such amazing medical advances. For trusting me with this. For the people at every turn who have helped me and been so kind. I have hoped and asked that these experiences can help me share my faith with others, that I’ll learn some things along the way. That the kids will feel peaceful and ok. But other than that, I’m embarrassed to say I really don’t pray much about it. I’m not sure what to ask, I feel so incredibly blessed that I feel weird asking for anything more. I feel like a little kid praying for myself this way, asking for more when I already have so much. I feel close to Him. But I still wonder if there’s more I should be doing. I just feel so spent lately by nighttime. Squeezing in hours of doctors appointments into already full weeks. Talking on the phone, emailing, and texting friends, family, nurses, the kids’ teachers, etc. Writing thank you’s for everything people have done. It’s as if I’ve taken on a part-time job. And so I wonder if I’m giving Him enough of myself and my time and my energy, if He knows how much I love Him and how blessed I feel. I hope so.
I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have a “traditional” trial, one that most people view as being a substantial hardship. But I don’t feel like I’ve truly experienced it yet, which is why I wanted to record some feelings before my double mastectomy and reconstruction on Tuesday. This problem has a pretty straight-forward solution. Not every trial does. The hard ones are those I see so many of my friends dealing with. More private in nature, more heart-felt. More long-term. With no quick fix. Even with this sitting in the back of my mind, I’ve felt my heart breaking for loved ones going through divorces or loneliness, friends who have family members in critical condition or parents who are worried about their kids. So many of my tears have been for them lately. Like so many of you, I pray, wondering what else I can do.
We never gathered our kids together for a pow-wow about it. In fact, we were running out the door and I had to drop off the kids and Bronwyn asked where we were going. I just hurriedly told her I had an appointment because I have breast cancer. “Hurry, let’s go!” Avery intercepted a text awhile back and asked me if I had breast cancer. That was pretty easy, and Callum just somehow knew. The boys were harder, and I put it off, knowing they were old enough and sensitive enough to take it more personally. So we’ve cried. But we’ve laughed a lot. We’re casual, open, relaxed, at peace. I’ve told them the funny parts of what I’ve been through, we’ve laughed over the wig choices. I’ve shown the little kids my bruising and incision from the node removal. But we don’t talk about it that much, it’s just not in the forefront of our lives. It’s just another development, along with our broken dishwashers and homework we’re not that great at doing.
I guess I put off telling people for a few reasons, mostly there wasn’t much to tell until I knew what I was dealing with, a cyst or a life sentence. And when I did mention to a couple of close girlfriends that I’d been waiting for the results, it made me sad because it made them sad. I hated hurting their feelings and making them worry. People wanted to know what they could do. I didn’t know how to be more honest: nothing. I am still healthy and energetic, the same as always. Just scared to know how serious it could still be. I think during chemo it will be great to entertain my kids. Recovering from a c-section a few years back, that’s what made me the happiest: knowing my kids were happy.
Avery suggested we make some meals to freeze. I loved it! I’m excited to see my kids pull together. I want them to see self-sufficiency in action. I want them to know we can unite as a family and work together. And yet I know it’s important to let them see people serve. It’s so humbling, you all know I hate it. But I acquiesce because I care about my friends. I know how good it makes us feel to do something tangible when loved ones are going through hard times. I know we all need to take turns, and so I hope to learn to balance humility with self-sufficiency.
The best thing friends have done with me is just to laugh with me. I’ve had some of the most embarrassing appointments, I can’t help but relay them to my friends. It’s weird to have come to terms with the body I’ve lived with for 42 years and now to be having the plastic surgery I always thought I wanted. Just interesting how now all I want is my regular self. I don’t mind people knowing or anyone asking me questions. Nothing is off-limits. It’s fascinating, I’ve learned so much and you know how much I appreciate a good teaching moment. It’s also good to move on and talk about them after a couple of minutes. You know I hate being in the spotlight, good grief. I just don’t want to be like the old ladies who can’t quit talking about their colonoscopies and diabetes.
I don’t know that I can itemize all that I’ve learned quite yet. I’m only at the beginning really. I found a lump back in July, got in to the doctor by September, had a mammogram and biopsy within a couple of days, and waited. That was Thursday. By Tuesday I could barely hold myself together, so I finally called. So not like me. But I couldn’t focus on much else. I remember on my way to my mammogram seeing the Cancer Center off to the side. I couldn’t help but wonder if it’d become part of my new life. But now here we are, I’ve been cramming in a million things these past few weeks and am ready to wash with my special surgery soap again on Monday. It’s been a whirlwind, but good. I’m realizing how powerful prayer is. I’m learning how valuable loved ones are. And how wide that circle is. I know now it’s not flippant to say or hear “I’m praying for you.” And how it’s not limited to a few close friends. I feel love from near and far, all expressions have been equally meaningful and touching.
People have hugged me, teared up when we’ve talked. Mostly people have told me they’re praying for me. My son’s college ward (congregation) fasted for me—I loved it! A friend brought over a note and a sweet children’s book, Going on a Bear Hunt, highlighting how sometimes we can’t go under or around but have to go through an obstacle. Three friends pitched in to buy my a subtly pinkish sweatshirt with a loving note. I can still feel the soft touch of women who have held onto my hands. Another friend brought our family a grocery sack of gourmet snacks, fun napkins, egg nog and other indulgences I’d never buy myself. A young student made me a small pillow for under my arm to make resting more comfortable. Isn't that cute? Our friend brought me a pink breast cancer awareness pen from his work. A woman I work at church with brought over a cleaning bucket loaded with snacks and treats for the kids, luxurious soaps I’d also never buy myself. A friend had her mom make a prayer shawl. My kindred spirit friend from years and years ago sent me the girliest package that is so like her: slippers and two pairs of pajamas and fun magazines. I still can’t get over the generosity. A practical friend who speaks my language brought over six containers of frozen cookie dough balls. What could be better? Two friends have already brought us dinner when I spent part of the day under anesthesia, even though I was fine, just so I could spend more time on other pressing issues. More dinners next week. Endless texts, Facebook messages, cards and emails. Phone calls and get-togethers. I feel pampered beyond belief. I’m moved by how kind and generous everyone has been. I really can’t get over it. A big part of my thoughts lately has been assessing how I’ve responded when loved ones have had a challenge. Have I been there? Have I helped? Did I know what to do? It makes me want to serve better and more. I’m so inspired.
My sister had this same experience at 34. She has been invaluable from the moment I told her. An absolute strength. I asked her a million questions, she researched and called her doctor for me. She rallied her friends even though I told her not to tell anyone around here. Her friend sent me a book. Their foundation offered me a donation. She and my other sister and my mom are leaving work and kids and responsibilities to come help out for two weeks. I can’t even tell you how stubborn they are. And how guilty I feel. Because I’ve never been in a position to do anything like that for them.
There have been so many tiny miracles that have shown me that He’s aware of each of us. Doctors assigned to me from my church, one whose specialty is breast care. My pathologist is a good friend, and I know he expedited results to ease my mind. An anesthesiologist firend happened to stop by while I was waiting for my procedure. So nice to see a familiar face! My friend in the cancer center was one of the first people we told, she drew my blood that first morning. Just over and over, I’ve seen His hand in my life. One that stands out happened just after my little surgery last week when Todd and I were in the recovery room. Of all the days and places she could’ve been assigned to within the hospital network, my dear neighbor friend from yesteryear saw Todd as he was sitting with me and was able to come be with us and wheel me out. Her daughter had just gone through this the previous year. I couldn’t help but burst into tears as we visited. Not at all because I’m nervous or sad or worried. Just out of pure love for Heavenly Father, I couldn’t believe He would take time to send me a tender hug this way. I was overcome with happiness, knowing again how intimately aware He is of not just me, but each of us. He loves us, His children, and shows us in small ways, a million different ways. This was just an especially poignant moment for me.
I cried the last Sunday I was at church too. A sweet, sweet friend of ours lost his wife to breast cancer a few years back. I knew he knew. He had on a bright pink tie and wrapped me up in his huge strong muscly arms, and I again burst into tears. He tried to comfort me, but it wasn’t about that. It was that feeling of love that I felt. I don’t know that my emotions knew any other way to go except out my eyes! And so it’s been with every person I’ve told or who has found out. Most of their eyes have become a little shiny, and there’s been an immediate connection, a feeling of love for each other. I’m a touchy, huggy person (but careful with who since I’ve had some bad experiences), and so I have loved the hugs, just loved feeling close to brothers and sisters we’ve come to love as our family.
One of the very first and most spiritual experiences of all of this was in October, General Conference weekend. I asked two friends if they would give us blessings that Sunday afternoon. So while our kids played gymnastics on the lawn with the dog, we gathered for a memorable hour together, intimately connected as friends. I felt calm, at ease, willing to accept the future but also feeling that maybe this wasn’t quite my end, that maybe I’d be permitted to linger a bit longer. I promised in my heart that I’d work hard, serving in any way He wanted. I still cling to that special time with our close friends. I felt the Spirit so strong, I felt a tight bond with the other two couples. I felt completely enwrapped in love, knowing that He really does have a plan for me and my family and that He is completely aware of me and each of us. It really was an amazing experience for me, I wrote about it in my journal so I’d remember more of the details. I’ll always treasure it and appreciate the love and goodness of our dear friends and a loving, knowing Heavenly Father.
I have a favorite scripture I cling to, “Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” That idea has carried me through so many days throughout my life. Our eternal perspective and our faith help me see little hiccups like these through clearer lenses. I just feel blessed and at ease. It’s the perfect time for a little wake-up call. My kids are not too young, I’m not too old. We’re just at a perfect place in our lives to see what we’re made of. And I’m happy to say, I’m realizing it has nothing to do with me. It has all been the work of you and a loving Heavenly Father that have made this past month so good. Prayers have a way of levitating another, I feel like I’ve been riding on a cushion of soft air, the prayers and thoughts of loving friends, people whose goodness is nearly tangible. There aren’t enough thank you notes in my box or even at TJ Maxx to express my appreciation for all you do. My only hope is that someday in some way I can pay it all forward, that I can live a better life having lived through this short trial, that I can serve in more meaningful, thoughtful ways. The way you’ve been serving me.
Caren, you are in my prayers!!!
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