Offering hope to those on the path behind me

Category: My Story (Page 13 of 24)

Celebrating a herniated disc

“You are stable.” I have lived from scan to scan every 4-6 months hanging on those words for the past seven years. I even started to believe that things would stay that way. Although #scanxiety would creep in, it never really took hold for very long. I would tell friends “no news is good news” and when the phone didn’t ring I believed I had skated by for another 4-6 months.

But this past June I sat in the doctor’s office expecting to hear him say “You are stable.” Instead, I got the long face, you know the look the doctor gives you when he doesn’t have good news. Instead of hearing the words I wanted and expected to hear, he asked “how does your back feel?”

Funny thing was, my back felt fine. I didn’t have any pain. I was riding a high from the previous weekend when I had walked down a runway at Austin Art Bra, a fundraising event for the Breast Cancer Resource Center (BCRC) where all of the models are current or previous clients of the BCRC. I was one of two stage 4 clients that walked the runway.

The doctor shook his head and while looking down at the report, informed me that there was a new spot on my T9 (on my spine). Still looking at the report, he told me he thought this was “just a bump in the road”. After all, I have been on the same medication for seven years and it has kept me stable all this time.

You would think that living with stage 4 cancer it wouldn’t shock you to hear that something has changed. But 7 years has made me a little complacent.

I’m grateful that my oncologist does not like to overreact. Because this was just one small spot, he wanted to do a biopsy and then recommended radiation. Afterward, I would remain on the same medication and we would see if things changed on the next scan.

This all seemed like a great idea. After the biopsy, I had 10 rounds of radiation and finished in time to go on vacation to the beach. Biopsy – check. Radiation – check. Continue living and not worrying about cancer – check.

Then the end of summer came. This summer had been full of lots of things culminating with my oldest daughter being offered a job in South Carolina and moving within 2 weeks. Of course I agreed to drive out there with her. I wanted to see where my daughter is going to be living and a trip to South Carolina sounded fun.

But when I got home I could hardly walk due to pain in my back. Being the realistic optimist that I am, I figured I had finally hit my limit on everything I had done this summer. So I decided I needed to rest. Slowly, and I mean very slowly, my back started feeling a little better each day. But after a week and a half of still not moving very well, I decided it was time to mention this new pain to my oncologist.

Not surprisingly he wanted to do a scan. Actually an MRI. Which, if I’m honest, I expected him to do just that. Wednesday morning at 9 am I reported for my MRI. Another box checked. Afterward, I met a friend for a late breakfast and decided to put it out of my mind as much as possible until I heard from the doctor.

Thursday morning around 11 am, the phone finally rang. It was the nurse. Unfortunately, I was on the phone and couldn’t get the call before she left a message. As my heart was pounding, I pushed the play button on the message I was relieved to hear herniated disc with nerve compression – not related to metastatic disease. The complete message was 1:33 however all I heard was not metastatic progression!

My heart rate suddenly started to slow down to a normal rate as I heard the words “herniated disc. It’s not cancer.”

Grieving Widow is NOT my Identity

For J.R.s birthday this year, I planned a few fun things. I didn’t want to sit at home and brood, and I didn’t want it to go unacknowledged either.

The craziest thing I did was book a Discovery Flight with Genesis Aero in Georgetown. For me, it wasn’t just a flight to discover if I want to be a pilot (which would be AWESOME by the way), but it was also about rediscovering who Kim is before she puts on any other hats.

You know the hats I’m talking about: mom, daughter, sister, wife/widow, friend – but before I put on any of those hats I am KIM first.

Between cancer and grief, I have forgotten who Kim is as a person – not a cancer patient, not a wife or grieving widow, not a mom. What is it that makes Kim, well, Kim?

The Discovery Flight was about reclaiming my sense of adventure.

As I shared with friends about my discovery flight I began to notice a similar reaction from a lot of people (aside from the “are you really going to do that?”). Almost everyone asked if J.R. was a pilot or if that was HIS dream. Ummmm. NO! They did not understand that although I was doing this on his birthday, I was doing this for ME! And then they really thought I was crazy.

J.R. was not a pilot, although he liked playing simulation flying games, something most people didn’t know about him was he was terrified of heights. He was fine on a commercial flight, but I’m not sure how much he would have enjoyed the little Cessna I was co-piloting. This was NOT about him, but it was another way I continue to try to honor him – by rediscovering KIM.

Honestly, I was the one in the relationship that loved to do what he might have called “crazy” things. (If you know J.R. you can imagine how he probably did more crazy things before we met to last him a lifetime). I was the one who jumped off the cliffs in Italy. I am the one who wanted to try skydiving (although I never did get that done and I’m not sure the doctor would sign off on that now).

What’s next on the adventure horizon? I’m not sure yet but I wouldn’t be surprised if it includes scuba diving lessons or ziplining (don’t worry, you won’t be seeing any bungee jumping videos, I may be adventurous, but even I have my limits).

#BreastCancerAwarnessMonth – It’s not all about the Ribbons

It is October. It is #BreastCancerAwarenessMonth. It is the month where so many talk about survivors and fighters. It is the month where people say how strong you are because you have cancer, or you had cancer, or you are fighting cancer.

October – the month I dread

Pink Ribbons are everywhere. People wear shirts that say “We Fight Together” – I saw this one yesterday at a fair I was working for the Breast Cancer Resource Center.

The pink ribbons paint a pretty picture. How people show every day how strong they are. How they proudly talk about beating cancer.

Women put on a brave face and head to the infusion rooms. They show their bald heads while smiling holding onto a metal rod on rolling wheels that holds the chemo they are receiving.

What they don’t show is the women who have had to face the fear again. When the cancer comes back and has now spread to other parts of the body. In my case, to my bones. For others, it could be bones, liver, brain, etc.

There is no ribbon for the women who have to continually face treatment because of metastatic breast cancer. Every hour, every day, every month, and fingers crossed every year is #BreastCancerAwareness. We live, eat and breath it every day of lives.

Today I got a tattoo.

No, it is not a pink ribbon. No, it does not have anything to do with cancer. It says “Be not afraid!”

It is a reminder to me to live life to the fullest every day and to trust God.

The fear of what will happen, or when the cancer will spread more or to different places is a daily struggle. Most of you don’t see that from me because I put on the “happy face”. Most importantly, during this Pinktober, I want to remind you that it is not always sunshine and rainbows, but I know God gives me the strength to continue, not Pink Ribbons.

Open to New Possibilities

I have been reading the book “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron with a few friends. It has been a slow going process. We don’t meet every week, in fact, it has taken us almost an entire year to get through 9 chapters. But what started as an exercise to help me “tell my story” has evolved into so much more.

I started this blog to tell my story. Then my husband got sick and it became our story (which it really was all along anyway). After 10 months, he passed away and I started writing a little more about grief and the healing process.

I’m excited to share with you that with the help of my Artist’s Way friends, and some other very unexpected events, I am working on a new project. I have been shown some new possibilities for a way to express what I have been wanting to share with the world (or at least with those who need to find hope when all else seems lost).

This new project is fiction, however, like most things people write about, it is based on things I have learned along the way through my cancer diagnosis, my husband’s cancer and death, and my journey of healing through grief.

I cannot express how excited I am about this new path that I feel is being laid before me.

I hope to share just a few gems along the way as I travel down this path.

Today’s gem came to me as I was doing a writing exercise exploring the antagonist- Grief.

Grief is a Bully. When you are in the midst of grief, it will butt in at the least opportune time and take control of a situation.

Move Forward vs. Move On

Have you ever felt stuck? Sometimes we get stuck and don’t even realize it.

We don’t know how to Move Forward.

A couple of weeks ago I realized I was feeling stuck and decided to sign up for a GriefShare group. My husband has been gone for 2 years and I was feeling like I was still stuck.

Two years later I am not as quick to break down in front of people, but I do still find myself occasionally wondering if I will ever feel like I’m getting on with life. (To those of you who know all the things I have done in the last 2 years that may sound strange because I don’t sit and wait for things to happen, but there are times when I feel like I do things because they are expected, or because I don’t want others to worry about me).

Last night I was watching the video at GriefShare and one comment resonated with me. I thought about it the rest of the evening and was still thinking about it this morning. Honestly, I can’t even tell you what the rest of the comments were, but what struck me was a comment about the difference between “moving on” vs “moving forward.”

The commentator talked about how “moving on” felt like you were leaving your loved one in the past. “Moving forward”, however, was not forgetting your loved one, but experiencing a new you. It is amazing how changing one word can give you a different perspective. If you have never been through grief, changing that one word may not sound like a big difference, but if you have experienced the loss of a loved one, you get it.

I was raised in the military. My dad was in the Army. Each month there would hold a “Hail and Farewell” at the officer’s club. In the military, people came and went all of the time. This gave everyone the chance to say hello to the newcomers and to say goodbye to those moving to their new post. As a child watching this and making the moves to new places, I realize that we “moved on”. I did not stay in contact with friends from elementary and/or middle school. Sure I tried with a couple of friends to stay in touch, but those did not last long. I did not form long-lasting attachments to friends because I never knew when the next “Hail and Farewell” would be and which one of us would be ‘moving on.’

I realized last night that I was afraid to ‘move on’ because I didn’t want my husband to be forgotten like the friends in my past. But as I listened to him describe ‘moving forward’ I knew I needed to change the vocabulary I was using. Moving forward does not mean forgetting the life we had. Instead, Moving Forward empowers me to allow myself to find joy and experience what life has to offer. He told me in his last letter to find a reason to smile every day- I think this was his way of telling me to move forward.

I am a different person because I had him in my life. I will forever be shaped by that love. And as I move forward, I can’t help but carry him with me because of the love we shared. I feel like I have just been shown how to move the gear shift from Neutral to Drive.

It will feel strange to shift into Drive, and there will be times that it may slip back into neutral, but knowing I can move forward will make it easier the next time to shift it back into Drive.

 

 

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