A 12 Step Program for Worriers

I was on the phone with my mamma.....the conversation follows along these lines:

Mamma opens with her usual, "How are you?"

I respond, "I am worrying about all sorts of things.'

She replies, "You do that a lot."

Me, "Yep.  If there were awards in worrying, I might win something."

I worry.  I think it's a part of me.  I am not sure.  I've been told when I worry it's because I don't have enough faith (I don't think that's it).  I've been told when I worry, it's because I don't trust  God enough (I don't think that's it, but there could be some kernel of truth to this).  I've been told when I worry that I don't know how to have fun and live in the moment (this can be true at times).  I've also been told that when I worry it's because I am a control freak (this is probably 100% true).

I've always worried.  I come from a long line of worriers.  I think it's a part of how God made me, but it does make me pause.  I know worry contributes to my stress life, which isn't good, but worry also makes me very organized, usually prepared with a plan, and ready to take on any scenario that's thrown at me.

But I confess that worry sometimes gets the better part of me.  Much like it gets to the better part of many people.  Worry is the part of us that wants to be able to control every eventuality, when that is simply impossible.

Worry can be an addiction, which led me to think about the 12 Step Program of Alcoholics Anonymous .  I am not sure anyone does addiction support better than AA.  At a minimum, it is the most worldly know support system for alcoholics and their families.  Which led me to take a deeper look at their 12 Step Program (Alcoholics Anonymous, 1981).  I think the 12 Step Program applies to many aspects of life and the things we struggle with each day.  As a world champion worrier, I took the 12 Step Program and applied it to my worries.  I share it with you so that you too, can have a path towards managing your worry when it spins out of control:

1. We admit we are powerless to worry--our lives feel out of control.
   
2. We need to believe that a Power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.
   
3. We need to make a decision to turn our worry and lives over to the care of God.
   
4. We need to search inside of ourselves to understand what makes us worry. 
   
5. We need to admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the nature of our worry.
   
6. We need to be ready to release our worry to God.
   
7. We need to ask God to forgive us when we continue to worry. Sometimes, worry just happens.
   
8. We need to make a list of all those things we worry about, and put them away.
   
9. We need to ask forgiveness of those who are impacted by our worry. 
   
10. We need to be continually self-aware so that when worry starts to take control of our lives, we promptly redirect it.
    
11. We need to breathe, ground ourselves in the present through our five senses, and practice prayer and meditation to improve our relationship with God to help us with those things we worry. 
    
12. As we begin to master our worry, we will share these skills with others and continues to practice acts of prayer, breathe, presence, and meditation in all our affairs, putting the worry aside.
    
    If you worry like me, you'll continue to worry no matter what.  It's a constant process of identifying the worry, redirecting myself to the present, engaging my five senses to ground me, breathing through the moments when the worry takes control, and praying fiercely for God to be in control.  I visualize some days like a mountain climb...we go up the worry mountain, and then practice patterns of behavior that let us go back down to the valley of calm and peace.
    
    The good thing about worry, is that there are things you can do, much like any of our behaviors.  we just have to practice disciplines that support the change we seek.  I'll probably always worry, but at least now, I have ways of ensuring it doesn't drive me too crazy, and now you have 12 steps to help you too.
    
    ~~Anna
    

Tell Your Trainer to Take Her Fad Diet and Shove It (nicely of course)

From time to time I will use a trainer.  It seems indulgent, but I enjoy the challenge; it encourages me to mix up my routine; and will rescue me if I have been a total slug.  For example, the holiday indulgences that seem to have been going on forever....we all splurge; it's a part of enjoying life, but it's time to get back on track.

But I digress, my trainer and I had words.  She sent out instructions to start juicing to get into the swing of getting back into shape.  She told me I needed to detox.  That it was going to make me lose weight quick and fast.  I told her to take her juicing philosophy and keep it to herself.  I don't believe in juicing as a diet.  First off, if I am going to drink my calories, it's going to be a glass of wine.  I don't drink soda, sweetened beverages, fancy coffee mixes, etc. for this very reason. I like to eat my calories.  Most drinks and juices are unnecessary sugars added to your diet that you don't need unless you are having a once in awhile indulgence.  Second, I like to EAT my calories (did I mention this before).  I must be part cow.  I need to masticate to be satisfied.  Juicing doesn't do it for me.  And if I am not satisfied by my meal, you can bet your bottom dollar that I will cheat.  My body needs food, and it needs real food; yours does too.  Take all those fruits and veggies you stuffed in that juicer and chow your way through a salad.  I guarantee you will feel FULL.



There is a whole philosophy behind juicing.  If that's your thing, knock yourself out.  It isn't like it is unhealthy per se, but if I am going to turn a bunch of fruits and veggies into a drink (I'd rather eat them anyway....did I mention I like to EAT?), I will turn them into a smoothie.  I think juicing is inherently wasteful of the food God gave us--there is SOOOO much waste of food to get a tiny old glass of juice. Plus, you get rid of all the good fiber when you juice that makes you feel full and helps with regulation (you know, going to the bathroom.....).  The fiber God put into fruits and vegetables is REALLY important.

The other issue with this whole approach to juicing to "detox" and create a lifelong diet for yourself, is that it doesn't work for most people. Most people like me, like food.  They want to eat.  Juicing isn't going to be a magic bullet to your food issues.  You may lose weight juicing in a short fix diet, but it will do nothing to help you maintain a long term weight loss and establish a healthy diet that you can live with.  Juicing sets up this mind set that you need to eat a certain way, focus on an elimination diet of things you can't have, and then when you have done all that, then you'll be skinny. 

Well that's the complete wrong approach and it makes me mad that trainers set up clients for this failure.  You know how to lose weight?  Quit trying to be skinny. Quit thinking there is a one size fits all to your body.  God created you wonderfully, fearfully, awesomely made as you are. You need to love yourself.  Not everyone is going to be stick thin.  You want to lose weight?  Fix your issues with food.  Then, eat real food that God gave you, in moderation, WHEN YOU ARE HUNGRY (God save me from another trainer that tells me I need to eat every two hours.  I'm not HUNGRY every two hours).  If you are hungry every two hours, that might be a different story, but any which way you look at dieting there are two facts:  No two people are made the same way, and no one diet is going to fit every single person.  THERE IS NO MAGIC BULLET TO WEIGHT LOSS.  It takes discipline, eating a variety of healthy foods, moderation, listening to your body, eating real foods, exercising, and getting back on track when you slip off the wagon, and learning to love yourself at whatever size God has made you.  I could be a heck of a lot skinnier than I am, but I'd also be a heck of a lot unhappier.  I'm healthy as I am, I'm tough, I'm a fighter, and I am REALLY, really happy that God made me as I am (broken bits and all).

It's one thing if you don't know HOW to eat healthy, but I actually do, and I really resent this bill of goods that the fitness industry tries to sell us every January that there are magic bullets to get us fit and healthy and well.  It isn't true.  LIFELONG FITNESS TAKES establishing a routine of HABITS that you repeat OVER and OVER and OVER until they are a part of your life.  Juicing for ten days isn't going to establish a habit. It takes MONTHS to establish a habit.  MONTHS.  And it is sooooooo worth it.  Kick, the crap out of your kitchen--the processed foods, the excessive sugar.  Focus on food from God's good earth.  Make these nutrients a habit.

Forming good habits is hard work.  Try brushing your teeth with the other hand for a week.  Does it become natural?  No.  It could take up to six months to make that habit switch in your brain.  Try eating with your non-dominant hand, or writing with your other one.  You've formed a habit with these behaviors and it takes a lot of focus and determination to change those habits.  Our habits are rooted in what we've been taught, how we were raised, what we were instructed about food, what we were given as a diet growing up, how we sleep, how we exercise, how we've used food and negative thoughts to cope, or how we have developed addictions.  Until you address the root of your issues, and learn that YOU HAVE VALUE, then a lot of your behaviors are not going to change.  This is why so many new year's resolution's fail, because the individual hasn't addressed the issue at the heart of what they want to change.

If you cannot change your habit for yourself, consider changing it for your health, your family, and for God.  Dedicate your new year to loving yourself as the temple of Christ in this world around you.  Dedicate your body to mind, body and spiritual wellness. For forty days, thinking about changing the way you think about yourself, your exercise, your body and your food.  Maybe then change will begin to happen.  You are worth it.  You have a purpose here and being healthy is a part of that journey.

But for the love of God, don't think that juicing for ten days is going to do that for you.


****Some people really love fresh juice.  Good for them.  There is a ton of healthy vitamins and minerals in a good juice.  It's just not my thing.  And yes, I've done that.  I had a juicer and I swapped it with my pal Sara for a couch.  That's kind of the relationship I had with my juicer.  :)  If it is your thing, own it, but own it for the right reasons.

Love y'all--love all of y'all and how you are made.
~Anna

Saying Good bye

There's nothing quite like facing your own mortality with cancer as you watch a friend succumb to hers. One of the greatest fighters of her cancer will die soon. She is the one who taught me that half of the battle was a fighting spirit and believing you can knock this sucker out.

Unfortunately, while she's going out her way, with her head held high, my friend will soon die. She is dying on her own terms with her husband and children by her side at her home. But she is still dying. This isn't the result we all prayed for.

I have no answers for this. A beautiful, young, courageous mom of three, devoted wife and army spouse will lose her life shortly to her cancer and I have no answers.

I have grief and fear and sadness in my heart. My soul screams at the unfairness of it all. My faith has little spider veins of doubt because we have prayed so hard and so long for my friend to beat the beast. And the very weakest part of me nurses fear. This could be me. I have drum mallets in my psyche trying to beat the fear away. I pray in God's name and pray out my fear, but it crawls and claws at me trying to reach all of me.

I don't want my friend to die. I'm certainly nowhere near, nor even ready to accept any thoughts of my own mortality, but this is what cancer does.

Cancer forces the "what if" question front and center. Cancer forces you to really look at yourself and answer honestly "what do you believe?"  It's like Indiana Jones with the grail and St. Peter.....what do we believe? Are we ready to drink of the cup of Christ and see what's on the other side?  Are we ready for the kingdom of heaven?  Is there a place that I have earned in the company of angels?

I believe that while I cannot begin to understand why this world will be bereft of a beautiful spirit, nor why other spirits are wrest from us that we so desperately need to make this world a better place, I believe they are surely going to the arms of a loving God. There will be no pain nor fear where my friend goes. There will be peace. Eventually there will be peace for her family as well and for us. We just aren't there yet.

We have a prayer in our Church that includes these line: "Therefore we praise you, joining our voices with Angels and Archangels and all the company of heaven, who forever sing this hymn to proclaim the glory of your name."  In my heart, I believe that my friend will be a part of this company in heaven.  And there will be a song on her lips and probably a wine glass in her hand. My friend's smile will light up heaven. Just as so many other smiles do as well.

I too, hope that one day I will be a part of that company. Just not today. Nor any day soon. I'm just not ready. But my friend's death and dying has made me think of this a lot today. I'm sure others share or have shared in this grief and fear. Yes, I am well. Yes, things seem to be in a good place. But I still live with this beast in me and when a friend dies from that beast, well, fear has this nasty habit of finding a foothold.

But just like many people in this world, my friend was a shining beacon. Her light touched many and for this we are very blessed. Hold your peeps tight my friends. While there is a grand place waiting for us in Heaven, life is very precious here on earth, hold it close. 

With love,

Anna

Post script: the beautiful pictures in this post were donated by my friend Roger Hutchison, author of "The Painting Table," (https://www.churchpublishing.org/products/index.cfm?fuseaction=productDetail&productID=9851) .  The first picture represents to me our collective grief with loss. The second picture represents to me the shining beacon each soul brings to the world. 

Many thanks to Roger for his generosity.

Roger Hutchison is Canon for Children and Family Ministry at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, Columbia, SC. When Roger felt the need to express his relationship with God, he turned to painting. Traditional painting with brushes did not work, so he put his hands directly into the medium, thrusting him onto the local art scene. He has since had numerous exhibits and is a favorite of local designers and collectors from around the

world. He regularly offers workshops nationally for children, youth, and adults on how to express their thoughts and relationship with God through the art of painting with their hands, making this expression accessible to all. He lives in Elgin, SC.

Day 70: You Will NEVER Believe What I Have Chosen

God works in mysterious ways.  Without a doubt, both my husband and I believe that God wanted us to be back on the East Coast and in the DC area (despite all the freakishness that happened [and continues to happen] with this move).  We are here for a reason.  And part of that reason was to create a waiting place between Kansas and DC.


God placed me in the waiting place for a good reason.  And I have chosen (believe it or not) to stay in the waiting place.  I dread the waiting place. I loathe the waiting place.  There isn't nearly enough activity in the waiting place.  But the waiting place has become my friend. Upon arrival in DC, we immediately set upon meeting my new oncologist (who is a rock star that looks just like a blond version of my sister in law) :)....we both had questions regarding some of my test results and so we decided to rescan my body and take a closer look at my tumors.  While we waited for the results, I also had an appointment with the National Institutes of Health (NIH) up in Bethesda, MD.  Let me tell you, that place is amazing.  While it is an ALL DAY event to go into the clinics, it was worth EVERY penny of my time to spend with incredible researchers, doctors, nurses and other staff that walked you through the entire protocol process.  Remember last week where I wrote about the top ten things every hospital should do (you can read about it here)?  Well, NIH knocked these out the park (and yes, they had Starbuck's coffee too).

Following additional testing, exams, and a review of my history, my doctor at NIH looked me in the eye and said, "Anna, I'm 39 years old too.  I have a wife, kids, a job.  If I were you, I would not seek treatment for your cancer.  It's not extensive enough.  The staging is not correct.  Your "good cells" in your tumor far out number the "bad cells" in the tumor and you are young.  This needs to be your decision and if you feel you cannot wait for treatment, then we have treatment for you.  But if you can watch and wait, you slow down entering the treatment cycle."  With my kind of cancer, once you enter the treatment cycle, you begin a cycle of remission, relapse, treatment, and over again.  This is very hard on the body and exposes the body to a lot of toxicities.  I'm young.  My tumors are not causing me to be symptomatic at this time, it behooves me to watch and wait.  My NIH doctor shared hope for me.  He wants me to be a part of a natural history study to explore WHY I have this cancer.  And he explained that when the time is right, they will have treatment for me.  It could be a multitude of different things, but when you have the opportunity to wait, you also have the opportunity for new research to be released for public protocols and each year, better and better treatment becomes available.  One day, there will be a CURE for my kind of cancer.  The waiting place gives me a chance to be a part of that "one day."

My local oncologist concurred with my NIH doctor that the repeat scan found only a small, 2.3 cm tumor cluster in my neck.  Nothing was seen in my chest or abdomen.  My blood work is beautiful and both doctors concurred that my shoulder pain was a physical ailment versus as tumor ailment (in fact, my scans DID show arthritis of by C7-C9 vertebrae, so we DO have conclusive evidence I am getting older--HA!).

Which leads me to the dreaded waiting place.  I have never liked the dreaded waiting place.  As a do-er, the waiting place blows.  But I am amazingly at peace about this decision to watch and wait.

The waiting place allows me to grow closer to God.  I am putting my trust in God that the waiting place is right for me.  The waiting place allows me to physically hand over my cancer and my care to God and trust in the Lord God with ALL my heart and ALL my body.  This gives me joy.  I still have worry and anxiety.  I still wonder if I am doing the right thing, but in this waiting place, it allows me to PRACTICE TRUST that God has a greater plan in store for me than anything I can possibly understand.  God has led me to this place, to these doctors, and to this plan.  The waiting place has allowed my tumors to either get smaller or disappear, or whatever might have happened.  Without the waiting place, I would be starting treatments that I might not be ready to use.  In this waiting place, we have the chance (albeit small, 8% chance) of spontaneous remission.  In the waiting place, there is hope, there is peace, and there is a chair with God by my side.  In the waiting place, I can hang up my coat of worry and busyness and rest a little.  In the waiting place, there are all sorts of levels of healing.

Some might say my story is a story of mis-diagnosis.  One can say that.  I would rather think of this part of my story as a testimony to prayer.  I have simply THOUSANDS of people praying for me all over the world; of all types of faith and belief, and of all sorts of denominations.  God has heard everyone of those prayers.  A friend described it "storming heaven" with prayers.  Y'all keep storming heaven for me.  This isn't over.  This isn't a sprint.  This is a long haul of the rest of my life and prayer makes a HUGE difference.

This has been a wonderful example of the power of social media.  We have a prayer chain without end when we share our lives over the Internet and ask each other to pray for each other.  YOUR prayers matter.  They have made an amazing difference in my life and I cannot express my gratitude enough.

Does this mean I will be in the waiting place forever?  No.  I am okay with this.  I will probably have treatment at some point in my life.  But today is not that day.  Does this mean my cancer will not grow?  Probably not.  But today is not that day.  Could things still go terribly wrong?  Possibly.  But today is not that day.  Could things possibly get even better?  Maybe, but today is not that day.

Today, is a waiting day.  Today, I am okay with the waiting place.

God is there.

Day 49: God Advertises in NEON SIGNS

Let me just put this out there if you haven't realized it yet:  I believe in God.  I believe that God is all around us, and I believe that God walks with us every step we take.

I've been going through a lot lately.  Digesting a cancer diagnosis is not quite as palatal as digesting a piece of chocolate cake.  But we still need to digest it and work through whatever has been thrown at us to conquer.  I've known theologically through all of this that God was with me.  I've known it in my heart, but at times my heart was so hurt and so angry and so disillusioned that all that negativity was keeping me from feeling the love of God during this time.

I think this is normal.  I think God understands that.  I think God knows that we are so fragile, so sensitive to our emotions that we need time to process and digest before we can realize that adversity can result in cheesecake even when it feels like a fallen souffle' (I may have food on the brain going into Thanksgiving)......I digress....

With that said, we are fragile and because we experience life through our senses, we need to feel, touch, hear, smell, taste and see God to sometimes believe that God is with us on our journey.  Sometimes it takes a looooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggg time for us to see those neon signs in front of our faces, but they are there.  Sometimes the hardest thing about faith is believe in God and knowing God is with us without those experiential senses tied to it.  Just because we cannot feel, touch, smell, taste or see God sometimes, doesn't mean that God is not there.  But then there are times, our sense are overwhelmed with God right there, right with us and the moment we need it most.  God comes to us through Grace.

I've said it once, I'll say it again:  I am far too flawed to understand the WHY THINGS HAPPEN in the world, but I believe in Grace.  Grace WILL prevail at sometime.  Grace Happens through People.  And I can show you an example of where I got to feel, touch, see, hear and taste Grace in action in my life.  God came to me through Grace.

Grace happened to me last week.  Grace showed up in my life like a big neon sign for a cupcake bakery.  Grace came to me frosted, with pink roses and sunshine and smiles and promises THAT EVERYTHING WAS GOING TO BE OK.

Grace rocks, people.

Grace came to me in the form of a letter.  You see, my husband and I are moving from Kansas to Virginia with the Army.  We've been holding off on my treatment (with the approval of my doctors) until we get to our new duty station.  We knew about this move before my cancer diagnosis.  In fact, we had put down the contract and earnest money on our new home the week before we found out the news.  In my gut, I knew (remember grace!  listen to your gut!) that we should move anyway and we would figure out how to do that around the cancer.

But the move was an added complication to an already complicated mess and it didn't help with the struggles with anxiety I continued to have.

But then this letter came.  This beautiful letter that had grace coming from it out of every sentence.  You see, the executors of the estate that we were buying the house from had found my blog.  And they had reached out to me from my blog email address (christwalk@courie.com) to send me a message.  You see, the previous owners of the house were a lot like me and Treb.  He was a retired military man--a WWII decorated veteran and his wife was a nurse like me.  They were a strong Christian family with deep ties to the area we are moving....and Gail told me in this letter that this house was meant to be ours.  SHE SAID MY CANCER WOULD BE HEALED BY THE LOVE IN THAT HOUSE (Ok, so that wasn't what she wrote, but the message I received!  God's grace sends messages!).  Gail has told me I can share the letter with you all so you too can see that GRACE HAPPENS.  Grace comes like an advertisement in Neon when you need it and I desperately needed this message from God that everything was going to be ok:

Hi Anna:                            

                              I understand you are the new owner of my late uncle's home, as our family fondly refers to the house on P Lane.  My cousin Don the executor of my Uncle John's estate, shared your Face Book page with me.  Wanting to know more I went to your blog page. I am touched deeply.                             

                              Since I have not met you I was not comfortable posting on the blog but I feel compelled to reach out to you.  I want you to know about the tremendous love and blessings and celebrations that were shared in your new home.  The home where you will rest your head, where you will return after your treatments for the cancer which has invaded your body, where you will recuperate and God willing, beat this beast, where you will raise your children, where you will nurture and strengthen your marriage, where you will seek and find the peace of Christ.                              

                              My dear Uncle John and Aunt Wini, my mom's only sister, showed me the true essence of Sacramental Marriage. Never have I witnessed a couple more devoted to one another or more in love.  Nothing was more important to either of them than their love for the Lord, their love for each other and the love they had for their children.  Their doors were always open to our large extended family as well as the hundreds of friends my cousins had.  Not only was their door open but their hearts as well.  Their love was so great that it could not be contained within their home but spilled over into the community and beyond, in service to the poor and the homeless, in the establishment of prayer groups to bring others closer to the heart of Jesus Christ, in ministry to the sick and home bound.  The list is long.                                    

                              I believe with all my heart and soul that God has a plan for each of us and that His plan is perfect.  Many times we can't comprehend this or see His light because of the darkness that we allow to overwhelm us.   But I am certain that it is no coincidence that my beloved Uncle John was called home a few months ago and that his family home was available just when you needed it.                             

                              So, Anna, know of my prayers for you and for your family.  May you find comfort knowing you now reside in a home that has been blessed in so many ways.  May you continue the legacy of love for the Lord, for your spouse, for your children and for the Kingdom which began so many years ago by John and Wini Tracy.    May God bless you and give you strength.     Paix, Gail.                                   

                              Senyè,

                              Mwen te tande yon nonm di "Mwen ba ou kè mwen."  Men maten an mwen santi ke mwen pa kapab ba ou sèlman kè m'.  Mwen ba ou tèt mwen tout antyè.

                              Lord, I heard a man say "I give you my heart."  But this morning I feel I cannot give only my heart.  I offer my whole self.

 

Even as I re-read my post, I am brought to tears.  God sent me a sign through another person that I desperately needed in the middle of this chaos and I (and my husband) were touched beyond measure.  God does send signs.  Yes, some are bigger and bolder than others, but I know if we open our hearts to these signs, we will see them and we will be comforted and brought peace. God never promised me a rose garden in my life, but he did say he would be there with me through it all.  When we love one another, we are sending God-signs to each other. And when I got this God-sign from Gail, my anxiety and fear abated.

 

I cannot thank her enough.

 

Paix!

Day 39: "So, How are you?"

If there were three words more loaded with conflicting answers, I am not sure what they would be:

"How are you?"  

There should be a guidebook on how to answer this one. "The Dummies Guidebook to answering socially appropriate questions."  They need a special chapter for those of us with something going on. I feel like a deer in headlights when approached with it. Is it someone that really wants to know?  Is it someone that can handle full kahuna?  Is it someone that will understand "how I am" changes with moment to moment?  Or is it someone that I need to reassure that everything is going to be ok?  I often wonder if it's socially acceptable to really answer "how I am" in an honest manner--do people really want to know? Some  days I am not really sure how I am because I'm still in the dreaded waiting place. How I am and how I want to be are two different questions. 

"I'm okay" covers a lot of ground with anyone going through something. It's also the lottery ticket out of a conversation if you don't want to answer the question straight up. There are some people you just don't want to get into how you are and then there are other people you need to buy them a new shirt because you've just blubbered everything out on their shoulder. 

So how am I?

I am beyond blessed. God sent me a freaking neon signage saying "It's going to be okay" that I will blog about at a later date, but it has put me in a calm waiting place rather than an anxious one. For any of you doubters out there.....there is a God, he does care, and I am confident in his plan..even when I don't get it. 

I am tired.  Frequently just tired. Mentally and physically tired. I love going out and being social, but it makes me tired. I am much more selective about what I do and whom I do it with because I am tired.  I often take a nap in the middle of the afternoon before my kids get home so I have energy for them. Because they remain my priority. If I don't take a nap, I don't make it past nine most days. I'm learning to manage my energy levels so I can do what I want to do.  My body controls my life right now. I'm learning to surrender to its needs. 

I still hurt. It's manageable, but it is still there. My tumors sit on top of a nerve I think. After a day of working at the computer, my shoulder is a tortured mess of tangled fibers. I swear by acupuncture, massage and yoga stretches. And Advil. We cannot forget the Advil.  But I am rarely unaware of the parasite that sits on top of my clavicle. It reminds me daily that yes, it's still there and yes, I have to wait to get rid of it. 

I still get anxious, but each day it's better. I am not going off the deep end, even when I have a bad day and let it all out for everyone to see. If you want to know how I am, don't freak out if I tell you the truth!  :D  It can be a loaded question!  Ha!  I still swear by my walks and talks with God. The best advice by far I've been given is to pray for others during this time when my anxiety is overwhelming. It works. And I practice this. Life is more than just about me. Praying for others takes me outside myself. 

I am weak. While I am coming out of the toxicity of anesthesia, and my body heals from all the surgeries, I'm working on my fitness level, or rather what remains of my fitness level.  I ran about 500 ft for the first time. My first push up was an utter failure, but I am learning to modify and listen to what my body can do. This is especially hard for me. I just ran a 1/2 marathon in May and spent the entire summer doing a 100-day burpee challenge. I'm used to being strong, not weak. It's humbling. I wrote a chapter on this in @ChristWalk--Christ walk for where you are now. And that's what I am trying to do. No, my fitness level is NOT where I would want it to be, but I am plugging away with it daily. It's a journey, not a sprint. 

I am still waiting.  Waiting, waiting, waiting. I don't wait well. And because our life is not complicated enough, we are moving in three weeks to a new home and we are in the throes of managing movers, cleaning, and getting rid of things. We are registering kids for new schools, closing on a house, and still waiting to find out what they will do with me.  I still have far more questions than answers which makes "how are you very difficult" to answer.  There are so many moving parts in the waiting place right now. 

I evidently look good because people tell me this all the time. Like, "wow, you don't look like you have cancer."  I'm not really sure how to answer that one....how are cancer people supposed to look?  I jokingly tell my doc that I don't look bad because a) makeup is amazing and b) I still (STILL) question that I have cancer. If I hadn't read the path reports, I'm not sure that I would believe it cause I felt fine until they started messing with me.   But yeah, I look good. They haven't done anything to me yet, so when I look like a cancer patient, I guess I'll let you know. But this is a great lesson, we have no idea what people are going through solely by the way they look.  Makeup and clothes make for great armor around whatever you are carrying in your heart. 

I have a sick sense of humor. Gallows humor puts cancer in its place. I won't apologize for cracking jokes about my cancer even if it makes someone uncomfortable. When I can make jokes about death, dying, and cancer it allows me to face the cancer and tame the beast. It's a "take that" response. So if I drop my cancer into a conversation like a bomb, don't cringe. Let's beat that beast back together. I've learned my friends are scared just as much as I am. We aren't going to tiptoe around this crap. We are going to slap it down and own it. 

I have amazing friends and family. I'm certainly hoping I haven't hurt any of their feelings about the "how are you question" because EVERYONE asks this out of a sense of concern and love. I don't get upset when questions come from a place of love, even when I'm really not sure how to answer it.  People mean the best when they ask you how you are even if it makes you a little crazy to answer it. Some days you want to answer it with a four letter word or two, even when it's not polite to answer that way. It is what it is. When you have no control over your life, it's a roller coaster of responses. 

"How am I?" Is a complicated question. I am a lot of things. And it depends. It depends how I am at any given moment. It depends on what is going on around me and it really depends on how much you really want to know. 

That's how I am today. How are you?

Multiple Days: The Number One "No-No"

Information can be hugely helpful in any disease process.  Information can also make you crazy.  I have a VERY hard time with doing research on my cancer on the internet.  The data and information available makes me anxious, fills me with fear and leaves me feeling defeated. There is so much information out there and you have to figure out what is good information and what is not good information.  I really recommend you let your cancer posse do this for you.  I know I cannot do it on my own without ending up in a very bad place in my mind and heart.

For me, the number one no-no is to get on the internet and start googling lymphoma.  It scares the hell out of me.  I can take only short bursts of information before panic takes over.  It's the sure-fire way to beat down my warrior attitude.

But every so often, I start to think I am strong enough to handle the information and I go searching.  And invariably, something comes up that scares the hell out of me and it makes me fall apart.  And as a former oncology nurse--the knowledge I have from oncology 15 years old does more harm than good.  The specialty has come so far from when I worked in oncology practice. But my memories and knowledge were far more of sick people that were fighting for their life than those we helped.  And I remember selfishly at that time wondering why any one would put themselves through this treatment. Prior   to my children, I remember telling my husband that I would rather die than go through any of the cancer treatement I saw during those years of practice.

I want to apologize to every one of my patients for that thought.  I have kids now.  I have more experience and friends and goals to accomplish.  I understand you will do ANYTHING to have more years with those you love.  It's a fierce desire.  I will fight unfailingly for time with my family.  It's not that I am afraid to die, or afraid of God.  It's just that I love my kids and husband that much.  We have so much more we want to do together.

You see, my disease is considered incurable.  Yes, I will get remission, but this is my life now.  And scientists quote numbers of 5 to 10 to 20 years.  But this isn't good enough for me.  My children will be 29 and 27 with 20 years...I want more.  More, more, more.  And I pray about this insanely.  I want to see my kids grow up and my grandkids and enjoy retirement with my husband.  I hold on to this want fiercely because it is based in love.  I cannot think that God will not understand this becasue I love my family so fiercely that I cannot and will not let them go yet.  God commanded us to love one another. It is this fierce love that calls me to fight. This cannot be wrong. 

But this love is also the center of my fear. I  am not ready to go. I am not ready to consider my mortality but when you are diagnosed with cancer and begin to ready the various websites--that fear creeps in because all you love is threatened. 

And all the research on the internet feeds this fear. When you feed a fear, it becomes larger than it really is. You build a monster in your mind that feeds the cancer and gives you one more thing to fight in this battle. 

When my fear gets so great, I cry. I'm not the strong warrior people see. I'm a mess. I curl on the couch. I may have kicked the couch on occasion and I rale at my situation. Fear is of the devil. It's not pretty. It's red noses, boogers, slobber, many tears, hot flashes and cold streaks. Fear takes your breath and freezes your mind. Your voice is raw from crying and screaming and your body aches from the grief. Fest is so much bigger than it really is. I MUST remind myself that MY GOD is bigger than MY FEAR. 

If the internet feeds your fear, get off of it. Give your fear to God. God is asking us to trust him through these times. I am being called to put my faith in something I cannot see or feel. And I am reading over and over in the Bible how God assures us that we will be delivered. God will be my strong rock and a castle to keep me safe and lift me up in his time and deliver me from my fear and comfort me when I am down and heal me if I put my trust in The Lord. 

I just need to stay off the internet in the interim. Don't feed the fears. 

Day 30: One month In

It's day 30 on this Journey with Cancer.  My life has turned into an ongoing roller coaster ride.  It's one high after a low after a high after a low kind of ride.  It's exhausting.  There are good days and there are bad days.  I have to remind people that even when I have a bad day, it doesn't mean that I am not fighting, or that I don't believe I can't beat this, it's just that some days you have a bad day and it sucks the life out of you.

We are in waiting mode.  I hate waiting.  As Dr. Suess would say, "And then you come to the dreaded waiting place."  Waiting for an answer.  Waiting for a treatment day.  Waiting for a treatment plan.  Waiting for information.  Waiting for a doctor.  Waiting for results.  Waiting for news. Waiting to heal.  Waiting for a moving date.  Waiting.  Waiting. Waiting.

Right now, we have to wait for our move.  My doctor here won't start me on treatment in the middle of the move, and my doctor in the new place won't make a decision until I get there on what that treatment will be.  We have gone from "you must get there by the beginning of December to start treatment--you can't wait!" to "We'll make a decision about your treatment when you get here.  Just let us know."  To say this is conflicting messaging is an understatement.

I have two very different doctors with two different opinions on what to do and neither of them gives me any sort of peace.  So, I am pulling on God for patience, because God knows I have none of my own. And I sit in this waiting place, where one doctor seems very comfortable with waiting and watching for me to become symptomatic and all I want to do is kick this parasite out of my body as fast as I can.  If I could claw it out of my chest I would. Watching and waiting doesn't resonate with me for a number of reasons. And I disagree with them completely when they say I am assymptomatic.

One doctor would start treatment in 2-4 weeks.  She would treat me if I was not moving--but moving gets me closer to family and help and good schools and a good job for my husband.  And since my cancer is so slow growing and indolent, the move doesn't seem impossible.  But then I wait some more.  And wait and hear things like "this cancer isn't curable."  "We'll get you in remission but you'll relapse."  And my mind gets spun up on "this is my life now," and, "this is not how it's supposed to be."

And then there is the other doctor.  The one I haven't met yet.  The one I am putting my faith, and trust, and life in her hands that I have not seen.  I am putting my faith in a woman from 2000 miles away and hoping that she will see me as a person and not a patient.  I am clinging to this belief that she will fight for me as hard as I am fighting to live a life with my family without cancer.  I have to hope and pray that I am not just another clinical trial to her. I have to hope and pray that she will have my best interest at heart and that she will become one with my cancer posse.  I have to pray that God has this all under control because I have NONE of it under control.

I'm in a roller coaster in my mind, my heart, my spirit, my soul and my body.  I am either high or low and I struggle to find the equilibrium.  And each day I walk.  I walk to get myself off of that high or out of that low.  And I walk to pray and I pray to continue to be able to walk. And I wonder, wonder wonder what my life will be like.  This waiting place makes you feel like you are in a stuck place.

And I still just want it to go away.  People, I have plans, and cancer wasn't in any of them.  And it

still isn't.  I want this crap out of my body now. And this makes waiting a tortuous place.

So the questions you are asking:  "What's the plan?" "What's next?" "What are you going to do?" I don't have answers. Because no one can seem to tell me what the plan will be. We will move and then we will hopefully find out what it next.  And so I wait, and I pray.  Maybe in this interim of waiting, God will make my cancer go away. Maybe God has bigger plans for me than I can understand.  I still pray for the cancer to go away.  I know God hears me.  I am learning to wait and see what those answers will be.

Day 21: Three Weeks. I Want My Mama

I don't care how big you get in life, there are days that all you want is your mama.  Yesterday was that day for me.  If you've been following my blog, you know I've been having pain since my surgeries.  I really try not to talk about it much because I know all the talk is just plain wearing on both me and my friends.  Who likes the doom and gloomy friend?  So, I keep it in check, or I blog about it.  :)

But regardless, I've been in pain for about two weeks now and I haven't been able to get the pain under control with just Tylenol and ibuprofen.  It's been a vicious cycle.  So I finally gave in on Monday night and upped the ante to Percocet.  I HATE drugs (which, I'm very aware I need to get over in the coming months, but hey--this is an honest blog, I'll never lie to you about what I think and feel).  I took the Percocet as prescribed every four hours by my doc.  And yep, the pain went away.  BUT, it brought with it dizziness, vertigo and hours and hours of being violently ill.  For the life of me, I cannot figure out how people get addicted to Percocet (I know we all have our vices, but....), this crap makes me feel VILE.

Like curl up in a little ball and whimper for your mommy kind of vile.

Which I did.

And I called her and told her I just wanted to hear her voice.  And I think I made her feel bad because she's a mom just like me and she doesn't like her baby hurting anymore than I like having my kids hurt.  We were pitiful together.  She told me how people were amazed at how strong I was.  And I laughed.  I told her, I don't think people would think I'm all that strong if they saw me now.  A pale, shaking, barfing, stooped, shadow of myself.   There was no strong in this picture....a lot of pitiful.  A good bit of whining and a lot of feeling like a little kid that just wants mama to take it all away.

If you've read my book (if not, go buy it here!) you'll know that my mama was one of the greatest formative forces in not only my faith but me as a person.  I love my mama and I'm not afraid to say it.  :)  And when I'm pitiful and not remotely strong, she's the person I call to get a good dose of sympathy or a swift kick in the rear.

I worry a little bit (OK, A LOT), about how I will tolerate the chemo.  I'm a puker (my son gets it from me) and it is sincerely the one side effect that I would choose to avoid at all costs.  It takes like 3 anti-nausea meds to keep me from puking from surgery and that doesn't always work.  I hate to throw up. Because once it starts....it doesn't stop for at least 24 hours.  And I worry that if the Percocet would do this to me, it will be infinitely worse when my system is hit up with something far stronger. 

It is what it is and I won't know till I know...but I'm pretty sure that if it's bad, the first thing I'll want is my mama.

Day 20: you've got your good days and you've for your bad days

I just returned from a pavement pounding, fierce walk. 

Ten days post-op, some steps hurt more than others. However, I've yet to find any drug they've given me more effective in reducing pain, managing my mood, calming my anxiety, opening myself to prayer and releasing tension than exercise. I am thankful that while I cannot run, today's Christ Walk was a good walk. 

My mood has calmed. Not so much before I left. I was an irritable, anxious, pain filled mess that was frustrated right, left and center. 

Cancer is killing one of my friends. Cancer killed a friend of a friend. Cancer was making people miserable. Cancer makes my hands shake and my body ache. The information on the internet was trying to leach my resolve to be a warrior and remember I said I was still in pain. I never see things clearly when I am in pain and we are having a hard time managing my tumor pain. Ironic since two weeks ago, I didn't feel much of anything. The surgeon  thinks the surgery might have stirred things up. Yet another thing to discuss with my hematology-oncology (hemoc) doc. The list is getting long. 

But all the information on the internet was overwhelming me and scaring me. It's hard to find resolve when you see so

much negativity. So I decided to follow the advice of @kriscarr and start a cancer posse. These are the gals I can unload on and these are the gals that will do my research for me. I've told them I need to hear that I will survive and I've got a much better chance than 10 years. I need 30 or 40 years. That's not asking too much is it?

Also weighing on my mind are the results from my bone marrow biopsy.  Waiting has never been my forte. It seems God continues to try and teach me patience.  I fear I am a hopeless cause. Waiting, wondering and being unable to make plans drives me insane. 

Hence my irritability. I'm not depressed, I'm pissed. But at least when you are pissed, you feel really alive. Being angry is a very tangible thing to deal with. Being angry helped me attack my walk and made me feel almost normal. In spite of the pain, the frustration and anxiety, I walked almost four miles. 

It felt good. I might not be running any races any time soon, but I've got a goal to try and make it 10K steps per day. These steps will make me stronger and better ready to take on the chemo. And maybe next year, there will be a race to conquer. It will be nothing compared to cancer. 

Day 18: We Are Groot

My son's godmother wrote me this week and said, "Girlfriend, it is time to stop feeling guilty."

She is right. 

Guilt, when there is no transgression, is a wasted emotion. I may never know the why of my cancer. I may never understand this season and I may question God's plan for me during this time, but there is nothing to feel guilty about. 

The guilt was weighing down my fighter spirit. And I am a fighter. 

You see, even though I still cry; even though I have pain; even though I have my moments of distress and anxiety, this time has shown me that I have so many amazing people to fight for. My beautiful children, my amazing husband, my awesome family and my phenomenal friends. I have been infused with the spirit of all these amazing people. I do not believe my time here is done--for whatever reason, I have been challenged again by my body and again I will make it healthy to do God's work in the world. I would not have this attitude if I did not have all these amazing people in my life telling me I can. 

My buddy Louie calls this, "we are Groot."  Together, we are growing into a new tree. We will do this together. There is no "I" in this battle. I am not in this fight against cancer alone.  This is not just about me. This is about we and what we will do together. 

This togetherness is what I think God means by a community of believers. We have a bigger "church" going on than a brick building when together we are lifting each other up in love. 

I once wrote a blog post about the greatest gift you can give someone with an illness like cancer is to tell them "I believe you can conquer this. I believe in you."  It's true. We do far more together and are able to accomplish so much more as a community than we can ever do alone.  When we believe in each other and the power of the Holy Spirit to work through each of us, we are building something so much stronger than cancer or any other illness. 

So, while the future will have it's ups and downs for me, and I will still question: Why?  When?  How?  And I'm sure I will have days where I cry and gnash my teeth, I have hope. I can't say that I don't feel guilty--it comes and goes--but I have hope, because of you all. 

We are Groot. 

Day 15: Goonies Never Say Die

It's 3 in the morning again and I cannot sleep.  I'm beginning to hate three in the morning  Anyone who knows me well will know how irritating this is to me.  I like my sleep and I rarely have issues with sleeping.  Not so much lately.

Yesterday was the two week "anniversary" of my cancer diagnosis.  It still seems a little unreal to me.  It's not like we will be celebrating this "anniversary" with cake and champagne. Heck, most days I still ask myself, "did they really call and tell me I had cancer?"  It's real alright, but it doesn't feel real.  It doesn't feel like it could possibly be right.  I still have far more questions than I have answers.  I still don't understand why God has put me in this journey--I'm still 100% sure I don't like it.  I'm still 100% sure that somewhere, someday, somehow, I will understand, but today is not that day. Yesterday wasn't either and I'm pretty sure tomorrow I will have will have many of the same questions.

I'm still racked by guilt/anger/confusion/frustration/shame/shock (I don't know--pick one of those perplexing feelings and fill in the blank) how I am supposed to lead people to a healthy life (Hey, BUY Christ Walk HERE:  It's coming in December and it rocks big time) when I'm obviously broken in some way.  I feel a little betrayed by my health practices.  I wax high and low between wanting to go full on granola with my approach to my cancer treatment and thinking screw it, I got sick anyway.  I'm pretty sure the balance is sort of somewhere in between, but I haven't quite gotten there yet.  I look around my house and wonder if the plastic caused this.  Is it because I use a cell phone?  Is my Keurig dripping carcinogens into my coffee?  Is my food really organic, or just another gimmick with more pesticides? Is my shampoo giving me cancer?  Where did this crap come from??? And WHY, when I've worked SO HARD for my health, would this would happen??????  I want answers.  WHO is responsible for doing this to my body. WHAT is causing this? HOW did this happen? WHERE was I negligent?  I really want the answer to "WHY ME?!?!?!?!?"

I have no answers. I may never have answers.  That, right there, is what you call, "embracing the suck."  It's a favorite military line and it is so apropos.

UGH.

And while I am fighting this reality internally, my body hurts.  I'm sorry, maybe that's just too much information. But I do.  My body just hurts.  It's probably one of the reasons I am up so early.  In someways I'm bouncing back from the surgeries wonderfully.  In other ways, I am so aware that my body is just not right.  I can lay flat on a hard surface and everything feels out of whack.  My left arm and shoulder constantly ache since they took my lymph nodes out.  I cannot get comfortable.  And.  I.  Simply.  Hate.  Pain.  Medicine.  My guts feel rearranged. My mind feels fuzzy and my hands shake.  My body, mind and soul feel completely at odds with each other.  I need a serious realignment.  Where is God's chiropractor?

I know the things I can and need to do.  I'm sharing with you my thoughts and feelings.  If I put these things aside, I am an intelligent person, and I know the health care field well.  I know what I can do and things that will help.  I'm just not thinking very clinically right now.  I know that I can go to the chiropractor, or the massage therapist, or the acupuncturist.  I can try essential oils and yoga and relaxation breathing and prayer (all of which I do, do some of the time and in some sort of way), but honestly, sometimes it is hard to find the time to do any of this when you are fielding phone calls from case managers, nurses, surgeons, movers, oncologists, work and then there is laundry to be done, or naps to take, and sometimes just getting out of bed.  My body needs many more hours to heal and I am impatient with that process.  Clinically, I know what I need.  I know this is a matter of time, but at my heart, in my inner core: I Don't Have Time for This!  And there lies my inner struggle. 

I have yet to give in, or embrace my new reality.  I am still fighting it tooth and nail.  I want to wake up tomorrow (not at 3 am though) and it to be gone.  And I mourn that it will not just go away.  I feel like I have a big, fat label on my forehead. 

Folks, in the psychological realm of things, I am somewhere between denial and grieving.  It's a stage.  A season.  It will pass and there will be a new season.  One of acceptance.  The new season will be for the warrior.  I know it's in me.  She's just very tired right now.  A little sore and a little beat up. It will come.  Just not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon.

And as 3 am turns into 6 (it takes awhile to write these days) am, and I pour my coffee into one of my favorite cups, I'm buoyed by its message, "Goonies, never say die."

Endorsements for the Christ Walk program

In the midst of all this craziness, I am still excited about the book "Christ Walk" being published this December. It's my first journey with health and fitness. Christ Walk 2 will be about my new journey with cancer and fitness. My beliefs on health and the body have not changed because of cancer. I will continue to Christ Walk. Read more endorsements below:

“Don't just read this book--do this book. There is no better book available to inspire and assist both individuals and congregations to start a walking program. Follow the plan outlined in this book, one step at a time, and you will strengthen not just your physical wellness, but also your spiritual and emotional wellness.”

––The Rev. Dr. Scott Stoner, creator of “Living Compass Faith & Wellness Ministry” and author, Your Living Compass: Living Well in Though, Word, and Deed

 

“This book offers so much more than a walking program for individuals and faith community groups! It is a very thorough, comprehensive, and current look at the interconnections of spiritual, mental, and physical health. In the format of forty days of meditations, exercise, and nutrition information with suggestions for journaling, this book lends itself well to a Lenten health ministry opportunity. In writing about her own challenges with hearing loss and an autoimmune disease, Courie brings hope for living with infirmities, and she does this very personally, in a comforting, supportive, and affirming style.I have done several walking programs in our congregation, but I am excited to pursue the many new ideas and perspectives in this one!”

––Ginny Wagenseller, RN, FCN, parish nurse at Christ & Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Westport, Connecticut and Province One representative for Episcopal Health Ministries

 

“For those of you who are looking for a comprehensive approach to walking, fitness, spirituality, and prayer walking, Christ Walk is for you. This disciplined forty day program will make a fine Lenten or anytime approach to getting your body, mind, and spirit healthy.”

––Sara Lee Macdonald, blogger of Walk With Me on Our Journey

 

“As a priest and endurance athlete, I’ve been keeping a training log and journal for years but have long sought a comprehensive and cohesive way to reflect on mind, body,spirit and athletic pursuits. Christ Walk is the book I’ve been waiting for. Whether you are taking the first steps to wellness or have a full race calendar, those seeking to integrate faith and fitness will find Fitch Courie’s book to be a wonderful resource.”

––The Rev. Jennifer Baskerville-Burrows, co-captain of the SteepleChasers relay team for the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago, half-marathoner, and sometime triathlete. 

 

Anna Fitch Courie has taken what she discovered in part on her spiritual journey through Education for Ministry and put it into action. Christ Walk is a book that teaches you to see God acting in your life and how you can act in return. Anna’s work on the body as the temple of the Holy Spirit and an agent of change in the world will help you change your daily life. Take a walk with Anna (and with Jesus!) on her journey and learn how to follow Christ’s example of walking your way into wholeness. Anna knows that life is one big pilgrimage.

––Carrie Graves, Canon for Communications, Episcopal Diocese of Upper South Carolina and former president of the Episcopal Booksellers Association

Day 8: 10/15/2014 Answer this ONE Question

One week into this journey and I need an answer. What do you tell your child when they ask you if the cancer is going to kill their mommy?

Where is the guidebook, the parenting book, the answer that won't scar them for life, is a lie, will make them hate God, or fill them with fear.

There is no RIGHT way to handle this question and there is no parent that has been in my shoes that this question crushes them.  All the love in the world cannot promise my children that the cancer won't kill me.  The probabilities are not in the favor of the cancer winning,  and as I told them, I could die tomorrow walking across the street, but really, I cannot promise my children that this won't kill me.  No one can promise their children that they won't die early. 

And they know it.  And it fills them with fear.  And they hold it in.  My kids are the warriors.  They look in my face and they know I am afraid and they know I cannot give them the pat answer they want.  Of course we laugh at it.  Their mommy is too stubborn to let cancer kill her.  But I cannot promise that.  I cannot say to them that if I die, it is God's will, because I do not believe that.  This journey isn't just about me.  It is about this disease and how it has infected all of us as a family. Of all the stupid stuff I've come to terms wth over this week, this is the one question that stops me in my tracks. I bumble through my responses, I hem and I haw and I answer somewhere between "no" and "mommy will fight this tooth and nail." And yet none of my responses feel right. 

Every parent simply wants to raise their children, see them succeed, grow old, marry, have their grandkids and find happiness.  No parent wants to leave their child, at least not me.  And I'd give anything not to have had that discussion or hear that question from my babies.

How would you answer it?

Day 4: a Litany

10/10/2014. Day 4: A Litany of God bless

I actually woke up in a fairly good mood. I've been sleeping well since starting the Xanax. It's a blessing. I keep waking up expecting to feel sick. Although emotionally bruised and battered, I don't feel bad. I am strong ( burpees pay off), my energy level is over all good. I don't feel sick.  I'll randomly crack jokes.  I keep asking the doctors if they are sure they have diagnosed me right. I mean, cancer patients usually look and feel sick. I don't really look or feel different. At least not yet. I'm sure I'll feel differently when they start pumping my body full of poison. But for now, this really seems unreal. 

I tried to have a normal day today. I got up early to go to work. I usually enjoy work and it can be cathartic. I don't mind the mundane. Normal is good.  I did have a moment when I totally went off on someone for bringing up stupid in the middle of what I was trying to craft as a normal day. In my defense, I've been assured the person WAS being stupid, but I generally don't go off on people. My tolerance for stupid right now is low I guess. I digress, in the middle of trying to find normal, to work, to calculate survey results and provide an analysis on public health impacts, everything was working against me: time, my computer, my brain, technical upgrades to the software I use, people and red tape. I was a slow burning fuse. And then I got a call to go back to the hospital. 

I was called back to the hospital to fit my prep testing in today.  It wasn't going to wait until next week as planned.  Next Thursday I will get a CT guided bone marrow biopsy under sedation and a full appendectomy. I've just realized that running will be out for awhile. I am annoyed. To hell with burpees. Those are tabled too. My Christ walk goal is to get as many steps in each day as I am able. It's a one day at a time sort of life I live these days. 

Anyway, so I am back at the hospital. Third time in three days. I'm a nurse and I hate hospitals.  They bring back every memory of being a sickly kid.  I want to apologize to every patient I've ever had over the sheer indignity of the medical experience.  I like to think that I was a good nurse, but I still want to apologize. The medical environment is so hard. I mean seriously, as a staff member, you know your way around a building, as a patient, it's a maze just as foreign as Timbuktu. 

I've had amazing doctors, nurses and support staff, but I've also given my full medical history to about ten people. I've been poked, prodded, stripped down, examined and looked with pity as they read my age and diagnosis. "However did you think you had cancer?" they ask.

I never thought I had cancer. Some days, I still don't think I do; Except I have this pesky lump on my left clavicle that reminds me they are right. :(it's begun to hurt. I think it is my mind. 

I'm 38. Thirty year olds shouldn't have cancer ( for that matter NO ONE should have cancer--if I haven't said it before, I'll say it again, this cancer crap sucks. Let's not sugar coat it--this stuff doesn't belong in ANYONE's body).  This isn't just about me. This is for every single person that has it. We all have one heartfelt, longing thought: Go away and leave me and my family alone. Forever. 

Every time I've been at the hospital I've had at least six people ask me if I have an advanced directive or living will. I fell a part on the first lady who asked me. Poor lady--I made her cry. Thirty year olds shouldn't need advanced directives and living wills. That sort of question is just plain wrong. I mean it's right, but just wrong in the place where I am in life and so I bawled. And then they ask me if I'm an organ donor--which I am proudly--I'm just not ready to give them up yet--not that anyone is going to want them after this. *sigh*

This medical world we live in is so sterile. It's only made human by the kind people that work in this bureaucracy  of healthcare...they are the only things that bring a humanistic sense of something warm and friendly to an environment that strips you of all that you are. God bless humans for being a part of that sterile world. 

I don't miss working the clinical setting, but I know if I ever go back, my patients will never be just patients to me ever again. They are people. People in a situation that strips them of any sense of normal. Any sense of dignity. Any sense of feeling they are in control. Between the decor, the questions, the crap on TV, the waiting (waiting, waiting and waiting), the smell, the fake lights and technology-- everything screams that nothing natural goes on here. Except the people. The people give it some sense of I am not alone. 

God bless my nurse today Wendy as she let me put my head between my legs and breathe as she asked my questions and I almost hyperventilated. God bless Monique, the woman who joked with me about getting a tattoo as she looked me up in the computer. God bless Theresa who cried all over me as I cried all over her when she asked me for an advanced directive. God bless Dr. Jax who promised he wouldn't make any mistakes in my surgery. God bless Dr. Ludwig who called me in prescription for Xanax without making me feel weak for needing help. God bless Sherri who has arranged all my appointments. And God bless Dr. Johnson who showed me how to be objective about my cancer in the middle of the emotion. And y'all, pray for a good case manager for me who will help me seamlessly transition my care from Kansas to Virginia. 

God bless my friends--I cannot say enough. And God bless Treb and my kids and all my family. In the middle of this cancer crap--I am blessed.