A crazy thing happened to me last week. For a split second or maybe more like two minutes, I forgot I had cancer. It wasn’t too much of a big deal but I was at a meeting and I just forgot and felt normal. Here’s what’s even stranger, I work for a company that kinda deals with cancer so I’m surrounded by it all the time but again, for a minute, I forgot. It made me laugh a little when it came back to me but I’ve been stable for awhile so maybe this is pretty normal.
I was with a good friend when she asked if hearing others’ cancer stories bothered me and no, absolutely not. I love hearing people’s stories and it actually helps to hear what others’ thought processes are so I know my thoughts are normal. I did however, tell her that sometimes what’s harder for me is when others forget that I still have cancer. Now, this is tricky because I’m really high-functioning so lots of people don’t know, and I also don’t want pity or any special treatment.Cancer is ALWAYS on my mind whether I show it or not.
- Retirement~will I be alive for that?
- My back hurts~is my cancer spreading?
- It’s harder to breath today~humidity/allergies or is my cancer spreading?
- Have dessert~is the sugar feeding my cancer?
- I’ve lost a couple pounds~cancer?
- Coronavirus~Yes, it’s awful and seems to be an epidemic. All of the news outlets say that the elderly, the very young, and the compromised are the ones really at risk since it attacks the respiratory system. I have cancer in my lungs so while people are thinking about the virus~am I one of those ‘high risk’ people that would do poorly?
- Cancer, cancer, cancer…you get the gist
Cancer is the backdrop of my thoughts and is the steady undercurrent in my daily life. It drives many of my decisions and can sometimes control my mood. I get quiet, I get sad, I get tired easily, and because I’m an introvert, it’s easiest for me to withdraw. On the other hand, I am more observant, more joyful, and more grateful so it’s almost extreme. It’s a clash of intense joy and gratefulness along with sadness at the same time. I guess I’m asking for grace. Something I’m really working on is not judging other people’s pain. Someone may be struggling with work, a cold, a headache, a family issue, etc. and in my head I want to say, ‘but I have Stage 4 cancer.’ Everyone’s pain is their own and no one’s is bigger than another. Comparison is a killer in all aspects of life.
I listened to a podcast today and Richard Rohr said that sometimes his joy can make him sad at the same time. He went on to explain that in moments when he is overcome with joy and contentment, he is sometimes told he carries a sad disposition. He explained further that he realized that he gets sad that people aren’t experiencing the same joy and love of life; two intense emotions coexisting which he calls the ‘bright sadness’. In his ‘both/and’ worldview, opposites don’t contradict each other, they deepen one another. I’m sure I messed that up a bit but I get it and feel that as well; intense joy and gratitude coexisting with sadness. I get overwhelmed with living and being so grateful for everything and I just want to shake people and scream that life is amazing and that even in the mundane, you get to live. I get especially sad when it comes to my kids because of all the same things. All the little things they worry about, some of the choices they make, some of the entitlement they feel, or feelings of worthlessness while finding their passions and purpose, I want to shake them. More than that, I want to smother them with love, I want them to see the beauty of life and of people, I want them to know how amazing and worthy they are, and I also want to live until they’re older so I can see them with their own families. Sigh.
I forgot I had cancer for a moment. It was beautiful.
Prayer is sitting in silence until it silences us, choosing gratitude until we are grateful, and praising God until we ourselves are an act of praise~Richard Rohr
amazing doctors, nurses, and support staff. About 4 years ago one of my original doctors that helped navigate my cancer journey retired and I cried my eyes out. He was the one who called me with the news that my cancer had returned the 2nd and 3rd time. He researched new therapies and called different surgeons and oncologists; this busy doctor made me feel like I was his only patient for the 6 years that I saw him. I love all of the people that cared/care for me. What a difficult job they have trying to comfort and encourage patients, while also doing their jobs and what’s medically necessary. The impact that caregivers have on our lives is pretty astounding. Having cancer comes with baggage; fear, sadness, uncertainty~ it’s a dark time and medical staff play an important part. No matter what is happening in their lives they are tasked to care and love hard. Dr. M and Dr. D, my prayers are with you and I love you both hard.
part time getting all A’s. He still gets a little tired writing but that is coming along. Here’s my mom struggle…before the stroke he was a normal teen boy doing the push and pull; the pushing of my nerves while trying to pull away into his own adulthood. I get it, I’ve had to let go of my other two and that’s how it goes. After the stroke, he became my baby again. It was an incredibly difficult time and sometimes when I close my eyes I can still see him lying in that bed in the ICU and it makes me cry. There are things I can’t even talk about without choking up including the last night we spent at the hospital together, praying, crying, and talking about all that had transpired, before 
being discharged to come home. Now that he’s about 95% back to being a normal teen boy, there’s that push and pull again, and I have to relearn it. As one radio DJ said, it’s like a hard break up. For me it’s like breaking up, getting back together, then going through an even harder break up again. Makes me sad but I know it’s necessary. Motherhood is hard and time flies. Besides Alex, my oldest is graduating college in a few months and planning grad school farther away, and Audrey is studying overseas this whole semester. It’s a mixed bag of sadness and joy.
About a month ago I was scrolling through social media and one of the cancer survivor/fighters I follow had her first scan one year after being told she was cancer free, and it was still clean. This of course is reason to celebrate and her comment was ‘God is so good.’ I hate to say it, but in my mind I thought, What if the scan results did not turn out that way…would she have still said, ‘God is so good’?
Cancer. I was matched with an artist (singer) and we collaborated together to create a piece of music with spoken word. There were several other artist/cancer thriver collaborations and the night was beautiful. At the end of the night I was presented a painting from an artist who told me he was inspired by my story and the painting he had been working on that evening was meant for me. Cue the tears of joy, gratitude, awe, etc. I left on a high. God is good. The very next day my 16 year old son suffered a stroke. The very. next. day.
It’s been a rough week and it’s only Wednesday. My scan, which was scheduled for Monday had to be canceled because the insurance company wanted to review my case to decide whether I actually needed a scan or not. This was a bit of a jolt to the system because it takes quite a bit of mental preparation to even get to scan day. As a metastatic cancer fighter who has been getting scans every three months to determine if her tumors are growing, I rely on these scans (maybe too much) to determine how I will live the next 3 months until the next scan. ‘Rely’ may be too strong of a word but knowing if your cancer is progressing is a pretty big deal. I was able to reschedule for 2 days later (today) so I quickly got over the hump of anxiety and disappointment.
Last weekend my son went to his first official high school homecoming dance. He didn’t have a date but neither did most of his friends. Interesting times but I guess less pressure if you just decide to go with a bunch of friends. When I first found out cancer was back a little over a year ago my primary thoughts were of the kids not having a mom around to see them graduate, get married, have kids of their own, etc. Since I’ve been stable over a year some of those thoughts have faded (a little) but every time something significant happens like graduation, off to college, or this homecoming dance, my heart swells and I feel so grateful to still be here.
because I’m a person of faith I know the Son is always there carrying me through. In my melancholy state earlier I ran through a list in my head everything I miss whether it be from cancer or just the normal progression of life; I miss all my kids being under one roof, I miss having younger kids who didn’t talk back, I miss singing-a lot right now (for a long time it was my passion and how I was most comfortable expressing myself but cancer took away function in a vocal cord), I miss playing the piano well (hard to do with a left hand I can barely feel because of nerve damage from radiation and surgery), I miss being able to do physical activity without trouble breathing, I miss the blind optimism of living forever (although still optimistic I have lots of time left, cancer just took away the forever part in the previous phrase), I miss eating whatever I want and not gaining weight, sometimes I miss silence yet sometimes I miss chaos. Told you it’s a weird time for me. I know I’m blessed. I have an amazing family and loving husband, awesome friends, I’m generally healthy, I have a great job, and a dream that is closing in on becoming reality…but sometimes…just trying to stay real here. Thanks for journeying with me 🙂
tears. It’s August and in about 20 days I will say goodbye to my daughter who is taking the next step in life and moving away to go to college. Oh my heart. A few years back I said goodbye to my oldest boy as he left for college. Although I cried when I dropped him off I was mostly excited for him to start his next phase of life. There’s something about a daughter. I was telling a friend that with boys, they are struggling to find their place and their manhood throughout high school so when it’s time for them to go to college or just move on into adulthood, you as a parent are ready. I know I was ready to let him go, not in a
her hand leaving mine as I remembered dropping her off at preschool, then kindergarten, then the week long summer camps in elementary. Then there were the really big and scary goodbyes as she learned to drive and drove away alone for the first time, and in her case the mission trips; the scary goodbyes as she left for Kenya and Haiti. Raising kids is a long series of goodbyes and as they learn how to adult we learn how to let go. So hard. Add me having cancer? I. Can’t. Even.
speaking about all the amazing and fantastic times before, after, and around the good-byes. I vividly remember the day she was born, her first hello to the world. I have loved watching her grow into the smart and driven young woman she has become and I am truly excited to see her fly. For now I continue to prepare myself to have my house as a place she visits instead of a place she lives and to leave another piece of my heart somewhere else.
a plan to get them home. I have metastatic cancer which generally means we (Stage 4 cancer fighters) do all we can to get more time. In my 4th battle with cancer I am doing all I can in my control and I am trusting a big God that He knows what He is doing whether it’s a cure, staying stable awhile, or not. Not my plan, His. Pray. Release. Pray. Breathe. Pray. Peace that passes understanding. I cannot function in fear because there’s too much in this world to be afraid of. Everyone goes through adversity, there are always times to practice trusting but we have to be willing. Yes I want Audrey home but I also know she is doing something she loves and feels called to do and this ‘event’ will not stop her from serving in the future. Yes I want to be cancer free but trusting God does not mean life is perfect because again, that would be our plan, to me it means that I trust He knows, I trust He hears my prayers and knows the aches of my heart, and I trust He knows my fears and anxieties. With that I have some peace and I know it’s come from so much practice having to trust. Tomorrow I may feel a little differently because we’re always being stretched but for now, I’ll keep praying and I’ll take today. 
Sure, but should we as adults sometimes be more like a child when living life? Absolutely.Our next door neighbor has 2 young children and they’re always playing in the yard. Here’s what I know, they play with reckless abandon. When it’s raining and muddy they’re barefoot in the nasty mud, they run down the small hill in the yard with no fear, and on occasion I catch them staring at some of the flowers like they’ve never seen anything so beautiful; they have fun in the simplicity and they notice the beauty. Adults think too much, we lose that sense of wonder somewhere along the line, and I think we lose a little of our authentic selves because we fear judgement and rejection. Kids still believe in the possibilities. Because of cancer I now straddle between fear and wonder and it’s not so 
bad. Living with cancer daily has given me fresh eyes and the intention to see the world and people with wonder again. Cancer and a more definitive timeline on life has opened my eyes to the beauty I’m surrounded by, has helped me not to take things so seriously, to play when I want to play, and in an awesome way to dream big and dive fearlessly into those dreams. Cancer has also allowed me to be more honest and real with people and frankly they’re more accepting of the honesty because who’s going to be mean to someone with cancer (hahaha, just kidding)? You know that line, ‘Quit acting so childish.’? Well maybe sometimes acting childish is a good place to be.
kids were only 5, 7, and 10 at the time and I wasn’t ready to leave them (are we ever ready to leave them?). I fought, I cried, I prayed, I survived and for the next 2 years cancer came back again twice but same thing, I fought, I cried, I prayed, and throughout those years and the surgeries, and the treatments, I tried to make their lives as normal as possible. I continued to work, I volunteered at their school, I brought cupcakes and donuts to their classes for their birthdays. I rarely missed anything.
one is in college, one is headed there next fall, and the youngest is in high school. I’m older, teens are more difficult, life is rarely quiet but I fight, I cry, I pray. Life is funny because there are always things you don’t want to miss. When the kids were younger and I got cancer all I wanted was more time to get them through high school. Now that they’re older I want to see them become adults, get married, maybe meet my grandkids, I want to see them fly and flourish and know that they’ll be ok.
pieces of our hearts walking and breathing outside our bodies. We feel their hurts, we cry when they cry, we’re happy when they’re happy. We worry, we discipline, we direct, we pray, we love, we do the best we can. There are no perfect people or perfect moms but we can love and we can teach them to love. I am a mom with cancer. I may not meet the grandkids but I am planning to. I want to see them make good decisions but I can’t control them. I want them to know that my home is a safe place and that there is love waiting for them here. My 
Anna's Lipstick Journey 