A couple of weeks ago I had my scans to check on the multiple cancer nodules housed in my lungs. It has been almost exactly 7 years since I was diagnosed with Stage 4 metastatic cancer and I’ve had scans every 3-6 months for SEVEN YEARS. STABLE. I usually greet the news with overwhelming relief and crazy joy but this time was different; still relief but with maybe more contemplation? I’m still processing the news and why the ‘celebration’ felt different. I’m thinking about what it has meant to be stable all these years and how it’s changed me and my perspective, how I’m living, and maybe how I want to live going forward. I cry thinking about how the word cancer first changed MY LIFE 16 years ago and how the words ‘Stage 4’ changed ME 7 years ago after wrestling with cancer two other times in between.
We talk about gratitude a lot and I want to say I’m more grateful, but am I? I don’t want to have to think about cancer anymore. I don’t want to wonder if my next scan will still be stable or if I feel ‘off’ one day that my cancer is spreading, or if it’s humid and the air is heavy and I have a harder time breathing if it’s more or growing nodules in my lungs. I don’t want to wonder if I will make it to a child’s wedding or meet my first grandchild. I also don’t want to grieve what might be and miss what is. I know none of this is in my control and that there may be other factors that take me out, but cancer is what’s in front of me or should I say inside of me. I’m tired of the cancer dance. I’m tired. But yes, I’m still beyond grateful because without the weight of it, I would maybe miss the magic around me or waste even more time and air stressing about stupid stuff. I’m still tired.
The concept of impermanence is hard but living in duality may be even harder; making decisions can feel heavy, caught between I don’t care and I care too much. Talking and saving for retirement and but can’t focus on anything but today, planning for the future but wondering about the scan results six months from now, etc…it stinks. ‘I don’t care’ is my brain saying ‘I can’t process that right now’ or ‘does not compute’.
I’ve changed. Quality time has always been my top love language, but now it’s exaggerated. If I have a chance and the funds to see my kids, I will go. I want to surround myself with people whose joy is contagious. I crave community because the richest person in my book is one that’s filled with love, laughter, and time with family and friends. I will continue sharing my story and being vulnerable in hopes that it allows whoever else to be vulnerable with theirs. We learn from each others’ stories and vulnerability makes us more human. The perfection we see on Facebook and IG is mostly fake, fills us with fake longing, sometimes shame, envy and sadness that we don’t have what the picture shows us when truly the picture is just a picture. It’s flat and missing the three-dimensional parts of peoples lives. I’m softer, my heart feels like mush and I cry sometimes over the simplest of things. I’m also harder, I’ve learned to say no a little more without the guilt behind it. I don’t want to struggle or people please anymore to get attention or be included because time is too valuable and how exhausting is that?
The world feels like it’s on fire; people are more short tempered, judgmental, angry, self centered, and just ‘harder’ or hard hearted in general, unwilling or afraid to cross the lines or even share the lines of what they think how things ‘should be.’ Well, we all suck and I’m no better, but I don’t want to be one of those grouchy people, it’s such a waste of precious air.
I’m learning to embrace the impermanence of life even though it was by force (or I should say by diagnosis). No one gets to live forever. In a book I recently finished it said “That time always ends a second before you’re ready. That life is the minutes you want minus one.” -The Invisible Life of Addie Larue, by VE Schwab. There’s no best time, no one’s ever ready.
Hope. Hope to me shows up when an adult child texts me that they love or miss me (without my prompting), when someone shows kindness, when my dog looks at me and tilts his head like he’s paying attention and understands everything I say, etc. Hope is tangible, it’s simple and it’s always in your face when your heart is broken enough to let the light in. My heart is broken. It’s not a bad thing, it just means it’s tender and has lots of space for love, joy, hope, and empathy. Yes, grateful for that too.
Life is short. God loves me, Jesus carries me, that’s my solid. I’m reminded of His love and goodness constantly. My cancer is stable. 6 months from now it may not be, or maybe it will be for the next 20 years, who knows? Today I will breathe in life and take this word stable and add it to my bank of hope for however long it carries me.
‘Life is brutally hard & still holds holy beautiful holy moments & we are all standing on the edge of more joy, more wonder, more awe in God, who carries us through all the waves of heartache and heartawe, and into the expansive love of His heart.’~ Ann Voskamp
lipstick company with beautiful thrivers; ladies thriving through life despite health surprises. Survivors of breast cancer and lymphoma, one still fighting brain cancer, and one living with alopecia. It was a magical morning for me and one that brought me tears. It struck me that each one of us was fighting or had fought something that was trying to take us down. We had that common thread of fear, sadness, insecurity, but here we were, surviving, overcoming, fighting, and smiling. I had each of the ladies write their stories down in my notebook and the last words of one of the women were, ‘Ever Onward.’ Perfect. Every one of us pressing forward on our journeys. This is what my lipstick company is about and it made my heart full. Life IS our canvas and these are the things that can happen when you choose to get out of your comfort zone…when you decide to leave the house.
Last weekend I got to spend some time in Sedona, Arizona. Sedona is probably my favorite place in the whole world because of its beauty and the peace I have felt every time I’ve gone there. Typically I’ve gone with girlfriends and we’ve enjoyed walks, food, and spas but this time I went with my husband. A die hard water person, he was hesitant to visit the desert but on the road into Sedona after seeing the first giant red rock, I believe he was hooked into the magic. On the second day (we were only there for 2 days), we decided to pick a trail and hike. I asked the front desk person at our motel for a map of the trailheads and for a short description of the trails. We decided to hit a trail late in the afternoon, picking the ‘light to medium difficulty’ 3 mile trail with ‘the best views’ (according to the lady). Long story short it was a beautiful trail near the top of a mountain with spectacular views but instead of the 3 miles, we ended up on different trails along the way and about 5 miles and 2 hours in, we started wondering if the trail was ending soon and if was going to be anywhere near where we parked. We kept a comfortable pace until the sun started going down and we started 
seeing animal (mountain lion) tracks along the way (the trail was a little muddy in some parts from rain earlier). Over 6 plus miles later, with the last mile or so uphill, we were exhausted, hungry, cold, but finally back in our car. Whew! It was exhilarating! 5000 foot elevation, 6+ miles, metastatic cancer with multiple lung nodules, the hike was a little challenging going uphill at various times but dang, when you think you can’t do something but do it anyway…it takes your breath away (literally for me).
really knowing if you’re going the right way or if there may be a little danger ahead. You take one step at time with a little fear and trepidation but you know that stopping is not the solution. Keep moving. Then there are times like the gym when you know you’re on the right path but you’re simply losing steam. Dig deep. Surround yourself with people that can motivate you and those that believe in you. Keep going.
Is it ever too late to dream? Never. Stage 4, metastatic cancer? It’s now or never. Keep dreaming. God puts dreams into your soul and sometimes it’s adversity that reveals them. It has been a beautiful and fun journey and has been one thing giving me life. What is it that brings you life and joy? Maybe you should be walking in that direction, just take that first step.
I’ve done a pretty good job throwing myself a pity party this last month. That’s right, I’ve been angry, depressed, resilient yet sad, you name it and it was hard getting over the hump. I let cancer get to me and was even mad about that for awhile. Nobody could tell because I’m a fairly high functioning depressed person but it was always there in the shadows; that stupid sadness that just wouldn’t go away. Every day I’d get up, get ready and go to work…why? I’d try to work out…why? I’d try to eat healthier…why? I was plagued by the ‘I have cancer so why and what for..?’ and then I told someone. Not anyone I’m particularly close to but caught at the right place, right time. I said it out loud. I’m mad and sad I have cancer and I feel like I’m forced to compartmentalize all aspects of my life; the part of me that knows I have cancer vs. the wife, the mom, the employee, the entrepreneur, all of it. Yet, because it’s impossible to keep cancer in its own separate category since it actually infiltrates every part of your life and influences your daily decisions, well that was just making me sad. This person looked at me and said, ‘It’s ok.’ That’s it? Yes. I am all those things and I do have cancer. I function as ‘Anna vs. cancer’ with me forging ahead most of the time but sometimes cancer gets the upper hand and it’s ok. I found that it’s good to surrender to those feelings sometimes and to rest knowing that tomorrow is another day and that God is the one in control. I also found that it’s GREAT to tell someone.
‘I do my best to find some kind of glow. I’m givin it some heart and soul now from the darkest grays the sun bursts, clouds break…This is life in color…this is life in motion. And just when I could run this race no more the sun bursts, clouds break. This is life in color.’~
October is breast cancer awareness month and I have a confession to make…ever since getting cancer 10 years ago I’ve been a little jealous of the pink. Everyone knows and prepares for October; pink is everywhere from the local drugstore to the NFL to national news networks and rightly so, one in eight women will develop invasive breast cancer in her lifetime. It seems that every type of cancer has a month and a ribbon color but I would venture to say that the general public couldn’t name any other month/color except for breast cancer and the pink. So when I first got cancer, not only did I hear ‘oh, you have the easy cancer (thyroid)’ but I learned that our month was shared with Childhood cancer, Leukemia Lymphoma Cancer, Ovarian and Prostate Cancer, and our ribbon had multiple colors; purple, teal, and pink. In fact, on my first walk with Relay for Life I could not find anything thyroid cancer (t-shirts, ribbon pins, bracelets) from any vendors. Sigh.
and pins with pink ribbons, today I’ve seen blue, purple, yellow, burgundy, and an occasional purple/teal/pink thyroid cancer ribbon. The pink has empowered women, has increased awareness and early detection, and has ultimately increased survival rates. Let’s face it, whatever color or month is associated with whatever cancer there is, cancer just sucks.
Anna's Lipstick Journey 