Harley Rides and Four Mile Walks

MI is muggy and when you have a plastic boob it feels even muggier!  Yet, I will take the muggy days any day to have the opportunity to ride a Hog with my dad as the driver and spend the early morning hours on a four mile walk with both him and my sister.

We spent three beautiful days at my parents home on the Muskegan river (a place they call the Rivers Dream Gathering) basking in the sun, floating the river, eating tons of food and enjoying friends and family.  My dad only had one "rough" day where he was extremely tired and not feeling "quite right" (because you know your suppose to feel spectacular after three rounds of chemo treatment!). After the one rough day he was back to being Bert coming alive when surrounded by a community of people who love him so dearly.  I hope and pray I will have only half the courage my father has.  Another huge kuddo to my mom as well who continues to keep working and serving everyone around her.  Nothing but beautiful and a treasure that will always be remembered.

Times with my girls and polish on nails, receiving a gift from my greatest of pals...

When the cat pukes, when the kids yell, when I'm feeling sad.....

I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so bad! 

Thank you Amy and Mel (& families) for giving us something to good to remember!

A conversation with Syd

Yesterday I walked in to the house from work and asked, "Where is everybody?"

Sydney replied, "Emma is on the couch.  Naomi is in the shower. And mom is picking up her new boob."

The best part is it was all said like it was the most normal thing it the world.

Joel K

Headed home...

to MI that is.

Funny how when I'm in AK, MI is home.  When in MI, AK is home.  It's always kind of been this love/hate thing when it comes to living here.  I love many things about AK.  Like, I can go to the store without makeup or have been known to go even when I haven't even showered and I don't feel out of place at all.  I love the mountains and cannot imagine living in a state without them.  They are so majestic and when I'm hiking through a valley or climbing a mountain that is where I feel God's presence the most.

Unfortunately.....

it's cold and dark for nine months of the year and it happens to be 4,000 miles away from family in MI,

and did I mention its cold and dark for nine months of the year.  Joel and are in a debate about this...he says six months!  For those of you who don't live in AK the snow can start falling in Oct. and is here until breakup (that's April).  Decide for yourself!

However, even more unfortunate is when those nearest and dearest to us are diagnosed with this terrible disease and I'm living so far away and the only way home is with an over priced airline ticket.

But God is gracious and my brother is generous so I'm headed home to MI.  I will be home August 23-29.  I look forward to shedding a few tears, both joyful and sorrowful, but hopefully the majority will come from laughter.

There are a lot of things that no one tells you about cancer OR Community is like Barium Sulfate

There are a lot of things that no one tells you about cancer/breast cancer.  

First off cancer is boring.  You sit and wait, A LOT. 

Second everyone gives you a gift bag.  Some are wonderful and thoughtful items from friends and loved ones, and some are handed out by medical people and are packed to overload with information in the form of DVDs, books, pamphlets and brochures.

Third, MRI machines sound like ray guns from a B-grade Sci-fi movie.  Seriously.   Who knew?

Forth, courage is beautiful, more exquisite than any breast.

Fifth, tenacity is really, really sexy.

Sixth, Community is like Barium Sulfate (or another substance: gadolinium which is number 64 on the periodic table and has the symbol Gd).

Barium Sulfate is given to people who are having a CT scan done (gadolinium is given for MRI scans).  The idea behind drinking this thick, chalky looking white paste (which they claim is way better cold or over ice) is to coat your internal system so that is shows up more clearly on the scan.  Drinking the Barium Sulfate helps expose what we know is there but rarely see.  In this way I think cancer has acted like Barium Sulfate in the lives of our family, exposing the community around us.

I'll be honest, in most of the circles I'm in, the word community gets used so often, and in such haphazard ways, that it often feels to me like it has no meaning.  On the other hand I wrote part of my Masters Final Project about it, so it must have some value in my life. :)  I think my main frustration is that we are not just part of A community, but a community of communities.  And here is where the Barium Sulfate of cancer has been a gift to us as a family.  As we bounce through our normal everyday lives we don't think all that often about the communities we are a part of.  Our family has community in our home, in our extended family, in the churches we are a part of as members / past-members/ / missionaries, we are part of the Parachutes community, the Dimond Estates Community, the Facebook community, the Anchorage community, the Klatt Elementary community and on and on.  What Stacey's diagnosis of cancer has done is expose all of these communities that we interact with daily that so often go unseen and give us a picture of the systemic nature of our interconnected reality.  Ok, that was a bit thick...I mean to say that it has given us the gift of seeing something we can only sense in normal times - the love of all the people we are in community with. 

Some see cancer as a curse, and it is that, but it is packed with blessings that can only be seen from the inside. One of those gifts, for us, has been seeing the communities we are a part of come to light in very tangible and visible ways: people from church that we've never met making us dinner, all of you reading the blog like its the New York times (for real, over 4,500 views in the first month is a bit overwhelming), cards daily in the mail, e-mails from acquaintances in Guatemala (hi Liz), creative offers of support like driving the kids to sports, family willing to travel to help out, Parachutes friends that have moved to Miami texting prayers (hi Saul), wise words from normally taciturn elders, gift cards from friends in Iowa and Nicaragua (Hi Jake and Steph, Gordon and Peggy) and so many more indications of community glowing in the light of this struggle.  Its an overwhelming, profound and precious thing to be able to see your communities this way.

May you too see all the ways your connected, loved, and blessed.

Joel K

When the Rubber Hits the Road

Words really cannot describe the emotions I feel right now.  My mom left town early after my surgery to be home for my dad.   My dad has had a painful cough and a CT Scan found a mass in his lung.  On Monday he had a biopsy and the test results came in a few days later.  My dad was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer.  With this type of cancer surgery is not an option and he will begin chemotherapy and radiation right away.  So, I guess we are going to be cancer chemo buddies.  Not how I really dreamed of becoming even closer to my dad.

I guess the title comes from my thoughts in regards to my faith.   When the rubber hits the road where do I stand in my faith?  Faith is still a choice. We have to choose to believe God is in this and through it. We have to choose to find our peace through the storm.  God is always there, hovering over this chaos we call life.  We cannot understand His mysterious ways but we can choose to stay under His wings, feel His protection and know that He is God.  In a previous post I mentioned all I felt was this void.  In hind sight maybe that wasn't the best word choice because even though I was somewhat void of emotion I have still had this overwhelming sence of peace.  Even now with my dads diagnosis and the challenges our family is facing God's grace and peace is abundant.  I hope and pray my dad is able to dwell in this as well.

Enough of my rumblings about faith.  We have a chemo plan.  My first infusion is scheduled for August 30.  Three more will follow after that (Sept, Oct, Nov).  Once this round of meds are complete I start another one that is every week for 12 weeks.  I also started physical therapy today.  It felt good to be doing something proactive.  I know I will look forward to these twice weekly sessions.  I am healing well trying to understand and accept the new way I feel (or don't feel as the case may be) and trying to be patient through it.

Again, as always, I sign off being very humbled with all the support and encouragement everyone has sent our way.  I'm continuing to get cards, books, and prayer shawls in the mail, encouraging phone calls and offers to help with all our daily ins and outs of life!   Thank you!

Grace and peace to all of you!

My Selfless Mother

There is one person in this world who I find to be the most unselfish person I know.  That peson is my mother.  What an example of motherhood she is.  This women rarely thinks of herself and her desires (except maybe her love of beading - everyone deserves to be passionate about something and even in this she's always wanting to teach others how to bead and make things to give away). She flew here at the drop of at hat for our family.  She scrubbed our floors, tubs and toilets, washed our clothes and dishes, feed us entertained our children, hand trimmed our lawn since our weedwacker is broken, mended my wounds, hugged our fears away, laughed at "singing cats" outside (our personal joke),  and always tries to understand things that just don't make sense.  Just as quick as she was to respond to me she was as quick to jump on a plane to get back home where she is needed too.

I'm very proud to call her my mom.  I hope and pray that I will carry on her greatest qualities.  Her ability to laugh at her mistakes, her selfless attitude, and her incredible passionate love for God and her family.

Thank you mom!

The pathology report is in, the drains are out!

Today was a very exciting day!  It has been one week since "Thing 1" was removed.  The greatest part of the day was having the two drains attached to me removed.  Though not a very pleasant experience to have them expelled from my body the end result was well worth the misery.  I am sitting on the couch typing away without my lovely little "hand grenades", as we liked to call them, filling with fluid and other very interesting bits and fibers from within.

On Tuesday we also learned eight lymph nodes were removed from my left auxilla (armpit) two of which were cancerous.  The mammogram (and other tests) had only confirmed one.  The largest lesion was 2.0 x 1.7 x 1.5 cm.  There were other smaller lesions and the report stated "innumerable satellite tumor nodules" were identified.  If I understand correctly this is what Dr. Sanford meant when she said, "This boobs a goner."  There continue to be suspicious lymph nodes in the sub pectoral (chest) muscle. These nodes were not taken because they are in muscle tissue and chemotherapy and radiation will zap em!  In the big scheme of things this is all good news and nothing was worse than what was expected (other than two auxilla nodes had cancer not just one.)  It also appears the cancer was still all within the "margins."  Again, if I understand everything correctly, this means it wasn't in skin or muscle and was all within "margins."  You may need to call the doctor to get the correct info though :)

The quote of the day comes from the nurse with oncology rehab who stated, "Your going to lose all your pretty hair."  You see, for me this is a good thing, dealing with reality.  While at the Girdwood Forest Fair and Downtown Market I decided against buying a cute hat thinking, "why buy a hat...I might not even lose my hair."  I officially give myself permission to buy a cute hat because I'm going to lose all my pretty hair!

Again, I cannot brag about Joel enough.  He has been an incredible partner in our journey.  Empting  my lovely drains, watching me wince in pain when they removed them, checking the incisions, washing my hair, and all the wonderful jobs that home nursing entails.  What a hero!