Just a quick word of advice: Don’t break your femur.
Really. It is a long recovery. And frankly, I’m tired of it.
Waiting to see the doctor in the fancy “waiting room” Photo credit: Jennifer R
Today I saw my orthopedist again. And while the news really wasn’t bad, I left a little discouraged. I’m ready to put this behind me and move forward. Even if it meant another surgery, I was mentally prepared for that because I have that much trust in my surgeon and I know that I have recovered from worse. If having a small setback (like surgery to replace the hip and knee) in order to get me to where I want to be is what it takes, I was ready to go all in.
But that is not the direction the appointment took today.
Honestly, again, the news wasn’t bad. After looking at the X-rays he said there was some improvement in the bone calcification. We discussed how much weight I was putting on my left leg (we even measured it on the scale in the office) and tested my flexion (he gave me 80 degrees which is better than the 70 last time – so yes, I have been doing my exercises).
Break here for laughter: When the PA asked if that was all, the doctor, sitting on his rolling stool with his legs spread, said he could probably get it to 90 and I looked him dead in the eye and I said “you might be able to but I would probably kick you and you are not in a good position for that.” We all laughed and he rolled his stool back quickly.
When I mentioned the numbness that sometimes wakes me up at night the doctor suggested we get a total bone scan. I mentioned I had one scheduled for the end of April, but we are now pushing that up. And, just for good measure, they are throwing in an MRI to make sure there is nothing else that could be causing the numbness.
After I asked about PT, he somewhat grudgingly (in my opinion) agreed to let me start with strict instructions not to put more than 50 lbs of weight on my leg. Additionally, I asked about using forearm crutches, as the walker is really starting to get old. Short answer: No. Longer answer: Maybe in 2 more months (long answer as in time, not really a long answer)
I’m happy I am finally going to start PT. At least it will feel like I’m doing something towards moving forward. The past 4 months of being a couch potato and not being able to do much has been hard for someone who doesn’t like to just sit around (not having a hip didn’t even slow me down this much – I was working on using a cane in March after a December surgery).
March 1, 2018 – 1st time walking with a cane after hip was surgically removed in December 2017
Obviously I’m not going to be running any marathons or even a 5K anytime soon, but honestly, I wasn’t doing that before I broke my femur – but I do miss taking Guin to the lake and walking the trails. And I think she misses the outdoor excursions, too.
I have 2 months before I go back (unless something weird shows up on the bone scan or MRI). Hoping there will be even more bone healing in that time, especially with the weight-bearing and PT.
After 2 surgeries and a few setbacks with cancer, you might think I would be used to this “hurry up and wait” scenario.
KIm and Guin after a walk around the Lake (2021)
However, when you are living every day to stay ahead of metastatic breast cancer, it is tough to not be able to do things like walk the dog.
Grief – it doesn’t ever go away. Five years ago this week my dad and my husband died 4 days apart. A little of me died that week as well. It is gut-wrenching to lose one of the male figures in your life, but to lose them both within 4 days was rough .
Grief was not something I read about until I had to face it on my own. I never understood it. And honestly, it is one of those concepts that you can never truly understand until you are thrust into it (much like having cancer, but that’s another story).
I am blessed in that I was a grown adult before my grandparents died. In fact, I was married with kids of my own when 3 of 4 of them died (my maternal grandfather died before I was born).
When my dad and my husband died I realized I didn’t know how to process grief. And 5 years later I’m not sure if I’m any better at it.
When two deaths come so closely together, it may be referred to as compound grief. In short, compounded grief, also known as cumulative grief, is a pile-on effect of grief or “grief overload.” It may mean losing several loved ones in a short period of time (https://www.funeralbasics.org/what-is-compounded-grief/)
Compound grief can also represent when many losses pile up over time.
To add to the compound grief of 2 losses in a short period of time, my youngest daughter left for college less than a month later. You can see why some of my friends recommended I see a therapist.
Then there is the other elephant in the grief room…I have been living with metastatic breast cancer since October 2010. I never realized, until therapy, that I should have been dealing with grief related to all of the losses that come as a result of a terminal cancer diagnosis. [To understand more about these losses, you might want to read what my Twitter friend Abigail discusses in her blog titled “Little Deaths”]
Instead of facing the grief, I trudged on. For almost 6 years. I didn’t know how to process those losses and I probably made relationships more difficult than they had to be. But I digress.
Although I didn’t see that therapist long, I did learn I was handling my grief in an acceptable manner (ie I learned that everyone grieves differently and there is no right or wrong way to grieve).
This week, as I thought about the past 5 years, I wrote a list of all the ups and downs.
When I started listing everything I expected tears, as all of these things happened without my husband by my side (the good and the bad). But the tears didn’t come. Instead, there were some smiles as I reminisced about things I had forgotten. And I shook my head as I thought about more things I have overcome.
The UPs and DOWNs since July 24th, 2016:
My youngest started college – Aug 2016
I signed a contract to begin building a new home – Aug 2016
A friend unexpectedly passed away – Sept 2016
The friend’s funeral was held on my husband’s birthday, a day we had originally set aside to spread his ashes – Oct 2016
Spent our first Christmas in New York with my brother – Dec 2016
Buried my dad at Arlington National Cemetary – Dec 2016
My new house was completed and I moved in – March 2017 (March 6th was our wedding anniversary, I’ve always considered my house as a final anniversary present).
My oldest graduated from TCU (my alma mater)- May 2017
Took my daughters on our first (and maybe last) cruise to celebrate graduation and surviving the past year – May 2017
My daughters went to Malawi on a Mission trip with drops of grace – July 2017
My oldest daughter started grad school at Angelo State (my husband’s alma mater) – Aug 2017
My step-brother and his wife welcomed baby #2 – May 2021
I celebrated 55. – July 2021
Wearing a bra on a runway was definitely out of my comfort zone
Rediscovering my sense of Adventure
Stand Up Paddle Boarding in 2019
Skydiving on our Wedding Anniversary
Another Birthday – Celebrate!
Just a few pictures capturing the moments of the past 5 years
What do the next 5 years hold? Who knows! I have learned I can’t predict the future, but at least I know what I have learned from the past 5 years:
Life goes on. Whether you want it to or not. My daughter left for college and I signed a contract to build a new house within one month of my husband’s death. The sun came out and the moon rose each day. Some days I wanted to yell and scream at the fact that the world did not stop and give me time to process everything that had happened. But instead, I had to learn to process it as the pages on the calendar continued to turn.
I’ve said it before and I will say it until my last breath. I have some of the most amazing people in my life. Friends CAN help you get through the toughest times. I have friends that will allow me to be myself – even if that means that 5 years later I still get emotional (which happens and is OK). I 100% recommneding finding friends who allow you to be yourself – even at your worst.
The old adage “You are stronger than you think” is true. I just wish sometimes I didn’t have to be the poster child for it.
In the beginning, when people told me “you will get through this and even smile again” I wanted to punch them in the face (thankfully I had access to a punching bag and hit the bag instead). How dare they say I will smile again. But, I discovered that you can find joy even when you are grieving. And at some point (everyone is different) you will discover that even when you are grieving you find yourself laughing. And you realize they were right.
I have done a lot in the last 5 years. It took me writing a list to realize just how much. But as I made the list, I discovered something unexpected. There are things on this list I probably would not have done if I hadn’t challenged myself to deal with grief and discover who I am without my husband. One of the most precious gifts of grief has been discovering myself – and knowing my husband is cheering for me to keep discovering.
I have mentioned to a few close friends that I have felt the calling to be a speaker and a writer. I mean, come on, as Elton John sings “I’m still standing after all this time, Picking up the pieces of my life…” But I’ve never really felt the time was right. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was not having the qualifications. Maybe it was something else altogether.
A couple of weeks ago I signed up for a book discussion group. We are reading It’s Not Supposed to be This Way by Lysa Terkeurst. The book has been on my GoodReads Want to Read list for a long time. In fact, it had been on there so long that I didn’t even remember that I had the Audible version so when I signed up for the group, I got the hardback book and the study guide.
I have heard of Lysa through some of the podcasts that I listen to and even some friends had mentioned her name and the book (which is why it was on my Want to Read list). But I did not know anything about her story. What I did know was the title of the book resonated with me.
She is right, I thought. It’s Not Supposed to be This Way.
Certainly, if someone asked me 25, 20, 15, 10, or even 5 years ago what I imagined my life would look like in 2020, never in a million years, would I have described what my life looks like right now. To be honest, I have had to make adjustments in a lot of areas in my life. But looking back over it, as Garth Brooks sings so well, ” Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.”
A fabulous way to start any beach vacation. Coffee, blue skies, and a view for days.
I will admit I still need to go back and read some chapters I skipped (I had an unexpected opportunity to sit on a beach for a week and relax and missed 2 of the book club meetings, but you would have made that choice too most likely).
This week, instead of playing catch up, I jumped right into the chapters we were going to discuss. I had errands and an appointment on Friday so I listened to chapter 7 via the Audible version I had purchased a long time ago. I really had no idea what would be in those chapters.
As I backed out of my driveway I heard Lysa say “Every syllable of the last chapter is true.” Hmm, ok, I will have to go back to that and read it I thought.
I continued listening while driving down the toll road on the way to my appointment at Texas Oncology. Treatment for Metastatic Breast Cancer doesn’t stop for a pandemic, so I was headed for my monthly blood work, treatment, and appointment with the nurse practitioner.
“The ink hadn’t even dried from the last chapter when the need for another mammogram turned to the need for a biopsy. Everyone, including my doctor, assured me there was little reason for concern.”
Lysa Terkeurst
Seriously? Was I listening to my story or hers? I wasn’t sure at the moment. It sounded so familiar. I won’t spoil chapter 7 for you any further, but let me say I could have written a chapter very much like the one I was listening to if I had written my story in 2003.
As most of the people I know living with cancer can attest, cancer muggles (a term I have adopted after reading it on Twitter to refer to someone who has not had cancer) will say things like “Everything happens for a reason” or “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle” when they are trying to comfort a newly diagnosed friend. Honestly, I think they say that because it makes them feel better, speaking from my own experience it does NOT help the person staring down the road of chemo and radiation.
I don’t subscribe to the “everything happens for a reason” philosophy. I do, however, believe that we can turn our pains and scars into something that is helpful to others (which can then be mistakenly identified by those on the outside as a justification for the “everything happens for a reason” comments).
I often find myself wondering “Now What? Am I supposed to take these lessons and share them with others? And if so, how?” Or in more simplistic terms…What is my new calling?
Monday night the group watched the video and delved into the study guide that accompanies Lysa’s book for Chapters 7 and 8 (or Session 4 in the study guide). For the first time, I was beginning to understand why I have not pushed forward on this calling that has been lurking in the back of my mind.
In Chapter 8 (Letting Go of What’s Holding Me Back), the author walked through a passage from Psalm 51. Written by David, his words go through a progression of Confession, Cleansing, Creating and Calling.
As I sat and listened to Lysa’s discussion the proverbial light bulb started to light up. Although I had been going through these steps in my own way over the past year, it finally made sense why I
recently reached out to someone to say if she “needed a motivational speaker to talk about resilience, let me know” (and why I might have taken several deep breaths when she said “I might just take you up on that.”
reached out to another person to ask for help in “pulling together a talk about resilience from a true getting up and speaking perspective.”
finally “allowed” myself to sign up for a Writing Workshop that has been on my list (yes, I like lists – my Enneagram 1 wing showing) for several months.
The calling has been in the back of my mind for a long time, but I needed to process and walk through these other steps first.
The confession – Although she was talking about sin, I don’t believe that sin caused my cancer, or my husband’s cancer. But sin also means a separation from God, which means that I had been angry with the pains I had been through and had kept God at arm’s length for a long time. I hadn’t abandoned God, and I didn’t thing God had abandoned me, but there was a distance in our relationship. Several books, therapy sessions, and lunches/happy hours with friends has helped me to understand that God is still in my corner and is waiting for me to reclaim the relationship.
The cleansing – For me, this has mostly been tied up in grief. Allowing myself to fully experience the stages – and being ok with them not being in any kind of order (that 1 wing again) – recognizing them when they happen and allowing the feelings to process. Unfortunately, there is not a timeline for processing grief. And when you continue to see friends die from a disease that you have been living with for 10 years, the process can begin all over again.
Grant me a willing spirit
The creating – In grief terms, this has been reaching a level of acceptance. It has taken me a long time to accept what my new life looks like. I have asked God to help me accept and love who and where I am. A new creation based on the ashes of the past. And I’m grateful He has had the patience to show me how to love the person I have become.
The calling – I am placing this in God’s hands. Now that I am ready to listen and heed the calling, I feel certain, God will put the people in my path that will lead and guide me to wherever this calling is taking me.
What is holding you back from pursuing what God is calling you to do?
Maybe It’s Not Supposed to be This Way. Maybe, just maybe, if we embrace it, life can be better once we get to the other side.
Recently I set up an online dating profile. It was an attempt to entertain a friend who was dying from metastatic breast cancer. She was outgoing and full of life, and she had been suggesting, in her own unique way, that I should put myself back out there.
I didn’t take it seriously but I shared some stories and pictures with her and a couple of other metastatic friends (wow there are some interesting people on dating sites). She passed away not long after that.
I kept the dating profile up and was intrigued (in more of a research kind of way than an “ohh, he would be nice to date” kind of way) by the kind of men my profile was attracting.
I ended up deleting the profile after about a week.
A couple of weeks ago I decided maybe it was worth trying again and one of my daughters “helped” me create a new profile. I will be honest, I have not found anyone that I am ready to date but I have found that reading other people’s profiles and then swiping left (or right on occasion) is more entertaining than spending the evening scrolling Facebook.
What I learned about myself (and others) through online dating:
I’m not sure I’m ready to date (or if I will ever be ready to date);
There really is someone out there for everyone or every type; and
Creating a dating profile is one of the best ways to figure out who you really are. Not necessarily for finding a date. It is a way to tell your story.
Since I haven’t “dated” in 30 years, this was a completely new experience. I never used an online dating site before and it is rather intimidating.
How much do you put on a profile and how much of your story do you tell? Everyone is different, there are some that will post one picture and 3 lines of “description” – if you can even call it that – and others will write a book.
Not many men write “seeking a widow who is living with metastatic breast cancer” in their profile. In fact, about 80% (yes, I made that number up) want a woman who is physically fit, loves to bike ride, goes hiking and/or dancing every weekend, and “takes care of themselves mentally and physically”.
For those who follow my story, I thought about writing “likes short walks on flat surfaces” on my profile but since I have been working out and increasing my distance on walks I decided to let it go (although it still gets a good laugh in my circle of friends).
So how much of my story do I share? After reading what these men really want, I started to delete the online dating app. I mean, I am happy with where I am in my life; I have good friends and 2 great kids.
Will I keep swiping left/right or will I delete the app? Only time will tell. But after 4 years (yes, tomorrow, July 24th will be four years since J.R. passed away), I believe if you don’t have a story to tell by the time you are in your 50’s (yeah, I’m not embarrassed to say I am 54 years old) have you really lived? I’m going to own my story.
Like everyone who has Disney+ I recently watched Hamilton. The last song in the musical is “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story”
Our stories, or our experiences, are those things that have shaped us into who we are right now, as well as allows us to grow into who we are becoming.
A friend sent me this quote from Andrea Dykstra this week and it completely resonated with me. “In order to love who you are you cannot hate the experiences that have shaped you.”
If you have ever lost a loved one, you can relate to how that experience can shape you. I have moved beyond the anger phase of grief, at least mostly – there are still a few triggers that bring that anger to the surface but I have finally allowed myself to feel the anger then move forward again. I have found that if I try to bury the anger it just tends to linger longer (probably true in a lot of situations).
We each have a story. Some are more interesting than others. And it may have taken me a few years, some therapy, and finally listening to what God has been telling me, but I have reached a place where I can Love who I am because I do not hate the experiences that have gotten me here.
During this pandemic, I shared my story with my church family, and recently I was asked to share my story with another group. God has been nudging me to tell my story (well nudging may not be a strong enough word, but you get the picture).
As I think about the lyrics from Hamilton, I want to be the one to tell my story. I am the only one with the unique perspective of having lived every part of it. My story is still being written but that makes it that much more interesting.
I may not find someone on a dating site who is looking for a widow living with metastatic breast cancer, but I am comfortable owning my story and telling it to others.
L to R: Beth, Cathy, Ann and, Kim at the BCRC Art Bra Austin 2019 Fundraiser
This week I learned a new term. Anticipatory Grief. You may have already determined that anticipatory grief occurs while a loved one is still alive, but their death is imminent.
This would have been helpful information 4 years ago as we watched JR and my dad both slip away. It certainly helps me understand the anger I had during June and July 2016.
I learned the term this week while attending an online Breast Cancer conference hosted by Living Beyond Breast Cancer. There was a session called “Coping with Collective Grief” and the speaker, Kelly Grosklags, spoke about this “new to me” term.
It helped me understand my feelings this week (as well as those feelings from 4 years ago). You see, today we lost another to Metastatic Breast Cancer. A beautiful, fun, brilliant, witty woman gone too soon.
I met Ann while attending a support group for women with metastatic breast cancer at the Breast Cancer Resource Center. She was everything I am not: outspoken and loud. Not in an obnoxious way.
She had a sharp wit and a sense of humor that you couldn’t help but love. After going to meetings for a few months I became friends with Ann, Beth, and Cathy. Sometimes we would go to lunch after a meeting, go out for drinks or just sit out on my patio and enjoy a beverage and snacks (pre-Covid).
I loved talking with Ann, she had stories that could make your belly hurt from laughing. Or she could bring you to tears.
We have known this day was coming ever since she decided her body was tired from treatments. But until last Tuesday I was still in denial. I had seen her a couple of times since March (on Zoom calls) and she was holding her own.
But when the text came last week to come see her it seemed urgent. When we arrived she was in bed, no energy to get up and the spark in her eyes, while still there was just a little dimmer.
Thankfully we were able to see her while she was still coherent enough to recognize us and even engage for a bit. And for that, I will be forever grateful.
Having watched JR go through the process of dying, I knew when I left that her time here was short. And I was glad I had dropped what I was doing to go spend a few hours with Ann and my other “bosom buddies” Later that week we received an update on her caringbridge site that she was not receiving any more visitors and she was sleeping most of the time.
This week I have been anxious every time I open my email. Anticipating the final journal entry. Today, it came.
You will be missed, Ann. I’m so glad I got to know you, even if it was through this damn thing we call metastatic breast cancer
