July 29, 2004
My sister came to town today. Even though we live less than three hours apart, we see each other too infrequently. Two of my daughters and her new daughter-in-law joined us for a delightful afternoon tea at The English Tea Room. Personally, I do not care for tea but this is the one time I will sip a cup of tea. I just cannot resist having my dainty floral teacup filled from a lovely china teapot kept exceptionally hot with its tea cozy.
The highlight of my sister’s visit came later in the evening. This summer my sister has gone through her childhood and college keepsakes and downsized her former life into a select few sentimental things. She brought with her some items she knew would interest me. It was her Bubble Head Barbie doll from the early 60’s, Ken and a round black Barbie case full of Barbie clothes. The uniqueness of these childhood belongings is that over forty years ago, I hand sewed the majority of her Barbie’s wardrobe.
Just seeing the round shiny black Barbie case again sparked a flame of nostalgic fervor. Unzipping the case was like stepping back in time, a time of simplicity and carefree days. I lifted each garment I had designed and hand sown and its familiarity was incredibly sharp. Forty years ago suddenly seemed only a breath away. I immediately began trying each outfit on Barbie. I relived each garment differently. Some garments were exceptional successes of my design and even I wondered at my own accomplishments. It was interesting that my sister and I chose the same outfits as our favorites.
My sister is my only sibling and she is four years younger than me. When the Barbie doll was introduced, I was entering the age of puberty where I experienced the conflicting emotions of being a little girl one moment and wanting to be a grown up girl the next. I felt I was too big to play with dolls even though I still wanted to. So I found a way to ‘play’ with Barbie but in an inconspicuous way that wouldn’t embarrass me. I created her wardrobe, directed Barbie’s life through my ideas of different games, stories and life scenarios. My sister loved it. Barbie became a movie star personality with her own stage name created by me. Why I chose the movie star name of Mimi Bunzell is unknown. Barbie slash Mimi Bunzell had a beautiful wardrobe of evening gowns fashioned from discarded clothing my Mother put in her ragbag.
Tonight after spending a significant amount of time looking through all of the Barbie clothes, my sister and I then moved on to some of my childhood toys. The midnight hour found me rummaging through the attic to find the tattered but original box of my Deluxe Dream Kitchen with its 176 pieces. Bringing it down from the attic felt like I had been treasure hunting and had found my bounty.
The Deluxe Dream Kitchen was a marvel of its time in the early 60’s. After I saw it in the store, I think I dreamed about having it every night and it was the number one item on my Christmas list. Alas, my disappointed heart sunk when I opened my last gift that Christmas and I didn’t get the Deluxe Dream Kitchen. My parents couldn’t afford it. They did manage to get it for me the following Christmas. Ironically, my enthusiasm for the kitchen set had waned and now I felt disappointed to have gotten it. I felt sorry for my parents because they were so pleased they had been able to give it to me. How could I act happy about a gift I now felt too grown up to call my own?
The solution once again came back to my sister. I incorporated the kitchen set into her Barbie’s life. This way I could manage to play with it because it did still intrigue me. We dedicated the entire bottom of our closet as Barbie’s domain. The left side of the closet was her kitchen supplied by the Deluxe Dream Kitchen with its sink and dishwasher with the capabilities of running water, a stove with burners that lit up bright red and a turkey on a rotisserie that turned and a refrigerator with shelves that swung out to fill with plastic fruit, vegetables, meat and milk bottles. The cupboards were filled with miniature boxes of cereal, cookies, cleaning products and paper goods. There was also a set of dishes, flatware and pans to set upon a white table with four chairs. The other side of the closet was devoted to Barbie’s boudoir, which included a canopy bed, dresser, nightstand and various accessories.
But back to the present, this night was a uniting of the spirits of two young sisters though now well hidden in our present adult state. Together once again, my sister and I handled each of nearly all of the 176 pieces that were wondrously still intact. Frequently we began talking simultaneously about a memory triggered by our walk down memory lane. The sibling connection is amazingly unique, especially when our thoughts are frequently verbalized in duet.
When we retired to bed in the wee hours of the morning, I laid awake for probably another hour. It was like I had just watched a video clip of my growing up years and I was savoring its clear images. My sister and I shared a closeness most sisters can identify with. We rarely fought as my parents can attest and our childhood was filled with days of imagination and creativeness unpolluted by the stifling grip of television.
After seeing and holding my Barbie creations once again, it was remarkable to find that my stitches of love and time sown over forty years ago for my sister still hold. I was reminded of how much more do the stitches of love and time sown in my life by my Heavenly Father still hold. And though my life felt quite unraveled this week, the double stitch He has sown in my life is eternally in place. Though my life garment may become tattered from the wear and tear of daily trials, its basic construction holds because His pattern is without error. He is the master designer and creator and He is in control.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
The day after :Turning my heart heavenward
July 27, 2004
Our day was filled walking down long hospital corridors on shiny tiled floors to sit in people packed waiting rooms. It began with a 10:30 a.m. appointment with the oncologist. We waited almost two hours in the waiting room. But when it was our turn with the doctor, he gave us his undivided attention, unhurried conversation and demonstrated genuine interest in me. It was interesting to find out that he doesn’t really accept our insurance. He took me as a patient because of my radiologist’s call yesterday. As the oncologist put it, “I am doing this for my very good friend and for your benefit.” He said he was told him how upset I was yesterday and that he said he would see me today when I was less upset. (I appear less upset even though I feel dead inside and devoid of any emotions. But that is today. Who knows what to expect tomorrow?) After hearing how I came to be under the care of an obviously skilled doctor, my “God Watcher” ability kicked in and I noted how the Lord provided this for me. And I am thankful.
The oncologist explained to me that I have Stage II cancer. I have two positives and one negative going for me. The negative is of course that cancer has spread to the lymph nodes. Since it has, it makes it necessary for my body to be treated as a system. This is why I need chemo to kill any cancer cells that may be traveling to other parts of my body.
I will receive a cocktail of three drugs a total of six times. The six treatments will be three weeks apart, which means my treatment, will last for an eighteen-week period. After that, I will receive one drug four times with three-week intervals between the doses. My total chemotherapy will span over a thirty week period or in other words, over seven months. This sounds like forever.
I wonder what it feels like to have chemicals flowing into your body. How will I be able to sit there and let it enter my body? Will I be able to pass the time by reading a book like it is the most normal thing to in my life to do while I am receiving this medicinal poison into my veins? How sick will I be afterwards? And how fatigued is fatigue? I could ask a friend I know who has just gone through it but I don’t know if I really want to know yet. The doctor said I would receive more explanation about chemo after my lymph node surgery.
I was immediately scheduled me for a MUGA, which is a test of the heart to be sure it is strong enough for chemotherapy. I was injected with a dye, waited an hour in the waiting room and then spent about thirty minutes lying on a table in Nuclear Medicine while a camera took lots of pictures. Do I really fathom how significant it is that the strength of the heart has to be considered in this chemotherapy treatment?
After spending most of our day at the hospital, my husband and I headed home and I was glad to re-enter my world. Our grandchildren were at the house with my daughter when we got home. My granddaughter was napping so my grandson and I played together for a little while. Then my youngest daughter and I headed for the Laundromat since our washer is broken. We each ended up with eight loads of wash. I actually relished the act of taking charge of this task, which is always the case when I’ve been removed from my routine. From my past health problem experiences, being laid up always makes you appreciate the ordinary everyday things of life.
I’ve reread my journal entry from yesterday several times. It astonishes me that I had the nerve to be that open and actually sent it out. Since this is a journey, I am trying to record each phase of the trip so that I can see where I have been to appreciate where I am going. Honesty can be painful to reveal and even painful for others to read. But it is the truest trip gauge of the journey. It will be interesting to see how the Lord brings me through it, step by step.
I know my initial reaction was disappointing to some. I admit I was a bit of child having a tantrum yesterday. I was kicking and screaming because I wasn’t going to have my own way. Admittedly, I still feel a little on the whiney side but I am shifting to a calmer state of acceptance and submissiveness. My daughter Cindy shared with me a beautiful picture she thought of yesterday. It is a Steven Curtis Chapman video where a little girl is reaching her arms up to her father. It is a magnificent portrait of our spiritual reach to our Father when we need to be picked up and comforted. I am glad that my Heavenly Father still loves me through my naughty streaks, just like I have loved my children and grandchildren through theirs.
OK Lord. I realize I am going to suffer some major losses, which is what makes this hard for me. Losses like my independence, my hair, carefree days, my hair, my health, my hair, my ability to be like I enjoy being and my hair. Maybe once I lose my hair and get it over with, I will settle down about that. It just seems an awful thing to lose, even though I’ve mostly had a bad hair life not just a bad hair day. I was thinking Lord; it would be a nice consolation prize if you would bless me with a thicker head of hair when it does grow back. I also would like to put my order in for the same color brown and nothing shocking like white or gray.
My almost four-year-old grandson is old enough to be concerned about my health. He knows I have been going to doctors and the hospital but sees me looking basically fine. He is a kind and sensitive boy and at his own initiative, frequently asks me how I am. He tells his mommy that he needs to bring me flowers to make me feel better.
Last week I gave him a simple, brief explanation about cancer. I told him there was a bad thing inside my body called cancer but the doctor’s have medicine to help it go away. I reminded him about how we prayed for his friend’s grandpa who had cancer. But he died because the medicine couldn’t help his cancer and Jesus took him to heaven where he wouldn’t hurt anymore.
Tonight once again on his own initiative, my grandson asked me if I was getting better. I told him that soon I would be taking stronger medicine to help me and it would make my hair come off my head and I would be bald. I asked him if he knew what bald meant. He did. He was giving me a long look as if he was trying to picture me with no hair. His eyes were filling up with tears and his lip was curling downward. I asked him if he would still love Grandma when she was bald. He shook his head no. Kids are so honest. I reassured him that even when I was bald, I would be the same Grandma. I would sound the same and I would still play with him. Then I let him in on my plan. “Grandma is going to buy some new hair to wear until my hair grows back. It’s called a wig and you will like it.” He pulled back from our hug and lifted his little face up to me and with hopeful lilt in his voice asked, “Will it be brown Grandma?” He was very satisfied when I answered yes.
While I am not looking forward to this next year, at least I have the options I have. It could be worse. Many others have gone before me on this journey and suffered more than I will. Many others have gone before me on this journey and survived well too. I have such a wonderful army of family and friends standing with me. And even though I will be the only one facing this particular battle, aren’t each one of us facing things alone but supported by each other?
I have already received many expressions of love and support from my family and friends. The encouraging words are sinking in and I am in the process of turning my heart heavenward. I do want to face this journey bravely while giving the Lord the glory for the many things He will do through it.
No matter the bumps in the road, the storms of life, the blinding rain of my tears, Jesus is the sunshine of my life.
Our day was filled walking down long hospital corridors on shiny tiled floors to sit in people packed waiting rooms. It began with a 10:30 a.m. appointment with the oncologist. We waited almost two hours in the waiting room. But when it was our turn with the doctor, he gave us his undivided attention, unhurried conversation and demonstrated genuine interest in me. It was interesting to find out that he doesn’t really accept our insurance. He took me as a patient because of my radiologist’s call yesterday. As the oncologist put it, “I am doing this for my very good friend and for your benefit.” He said he was told him how upset I was yesterday and that he said he would see me today when I was less upset. (I appear less upset even though I feel dead inside and devoid of any emotions. But that is today. Who knows what to expect tomorrow?) After hearing how I came to be under the care of an obviously skilled doctor, my “God Watcher” ability kicked in and I noted how the Lord provided this for me. And I am thankful.
The oncologist explained to me that I have Stage II cancer. I have two positives and one negative going for me. The negative is of course that cancer has spread to the lymph nodes. Since it has, it makes it necessary for my body to be treated as a system. This is why I need chemo to kill any cancer cells that may be traveling to other parts of my body.
I will receive a cocktail of three drugs a total of six times. The six treatments will be three weeks apart, which means my treatment, will last for an eighteen-week period. After that, I will receive one drug four times with three-week intervals between the doses. My total chemotherapy will span over a thirty week period or in other words, over seven months. This sounds like forever.
I wonder what it feels like to have chemicals flowing into your body. How will I be able to sit there and let it enter my body? Will I be able to pass the time by reading a book like it is the most normal thing to in my life to do while I am receiving this medicinal poison into my veins? How sick will I be afterwards? And how fatigued is fatigue? I could ask a friend I know who has just gone through it but I don’t know if I really want to know yet. The doctor said I would receive more explanation about chemo after my lymph node surgery.
I was immediately scheduled me for a MUGA, which is a test of the heart to be sure it is strong enough for chemotherapy. I was injected with a dye, waited an hour in the waiting room and then spent about thirty minutes lying on a table in Nuclear Medicine while a camera took lots of pictures. Do I really fathom how significant it is that the strength of the heart has to be considered in this chemotherapy treatment?
After spending most of our day at the hospital, my husband and I headed home and I was glad to re-enter my world. Our grandchildren were at the house with my daughter when we got home. My granddaughter was napping so my grandson and I played together for a little while. Then my youngest daughter and I headed for the Laundromat since our washer is broken. We each ended up with eight loads of wash. I actually relished the act of taking charge of this task, which is always the case when I’ve been removed from my routine. From my past health problem experiences, being laid up always makes you appreciate the ordinary everyday things of life.
I’ve reread my journal entry from yesterday several times. It astonishes me that I had the nerve to be that open and actually sent it out. Since this is a journey, I am trying to record each phase of the trip so that I can see where I have been to appreciate where I am going. Honesty can be painful to reveal and even painful for others to read. But it is the truest trip gauge of the journey. It will be interesting to see how the Lord brings me through it, step by step.
I know my initial reaction was disappointing to some. I admit I was a bit of child having a tantrum yesterday. I was kicking and screaming because I wasn’t going to have my own way. Admittedly, I still feel a little on the whiney side but I am shifting to a calmer state of acceptance and submissiveness. My daughter Cindy shared with me a beautiful picture she thought of yesterday. It is a Steven Curtis Chapman video where a little girl is reaching her arms up to her father. It is a magnificent portrait of our spiritual reach to our Father when we need to be picked up and comforted. I am glad that my Heavenly Father still loves me through my naughty streaks, just like I have loved my children and grandchildren through theirs.
OK Lord. I realize I am going to suffer some major losses, which is what makes this hard for me. Losses like my independence, my hair, carefree days, my hair, my health, my hair, my ability to be like I enjoy being and my hair. Maybe once I lose my hair and get it over with, I will settle down about that. It just seems an awful thing to lose, even though I’ve mostly had a bad hair life not just a bad hair day. I was thinking Lord; it would be a nice consolation prize if you would bless me with a thicker head of hair when it does grow back. I also would like to put my order in for the same color brown and nothing shocking like white or gray.
My almost four-year-old grandson is old enough to be concerned about my health. He knows I have been going to doctors and the hospital but sees me looking basically fine. He is a kind and sensitive boy and at his own initiative, frequently asks me how I am. He tells his mommy that he needs to bring me flowers to make me feel better.
Last week I gave him a simple, brief explanation about cancer. I told him there was a bad thing inside my body called cancer but the doctor’s have medicine to help it go away. I reminded him about how we prayed for his friend’s grandpa who had cancer. But he died because the medicine couldn’t help his cancer and Jesus took him to heaven where he wouldn’t hurt anymore.
Tonight once again on his own initiative, my grandson asked me if I was getting better. I told him that soon I would be taking stronger medicine to help me and it would make my hair come off my head and I would be bald. I asked him if he knew what bald meant. He did. He was giving me a long look as if he was trying to picture me with no hair. His eyes were filling up with tears and his lip was curling downward. I asked him if he would still love Grandma when she was bald. He shook his head no. Kids are so honest. I reassured him that even when I was bald, I would be the same Grandma. I would sound the same and I would still play with him. Then I let him in on my plan. “Grandma is going to buy some new hair to wear until my hair grows back. It’s called a wig and you will like it.” He pulled back from our hug and lifted his little face up to me and with hopeful lilt in his voice asked, “Will it be brown Grandma?” He was very satisfied when I answered yes.
While I am not looking forward to this next year, at least I have the options I have. It could be worse. Many others have gone before me on this journey and suffered more than I will. Many others have gone before me on this journey and survived well too. I have such a wonderful army of family and friends standing with me. And even though I will be the only one facing this particular battle, aren’t each one of us facing things alone but supported by each other?
I have already received many expressions of love and support from my family and friends. The encouraging words are sinking in and I am in the process of turning my heart heavenward. I do want to face this journey bravely while giving the Lord the glory for the many things He will do through it.
No matter the bumps in the road, the storms of life, the blinding rain of my tears, Jesus is the sunshine of my life.
Monday, July 26, 2004
I am mad at you God!
July 26, 2004
Today I found out I have cancer in my lymph nodes.
Interesting that I started my cancer journal on February 26th, 2004 with the words, “Today I found out I have breast cancer. “ Here it is five months later to the date and the news is not much better. I have barely written in this journal for over four months. Either I gave it up because of denial, mind exhaustion from thinking about cancer constantly or I was not willing to share my thoughts out loud anymore. Or maybe it was all of the above. These last four months fluctuated between days of frustration and cold stark fear in the back of my mind, which usually surfaces in the middle of the night, and then the beautiful contrast of many moments of regular routine, which I totally love and crave. Today’s news will change all that. I expect my life will not be my own for the next six months at least.
I went to see my radiologist at the Sarah Cannon Cancer Center this morning. He is in charge of the center and is the doctor who will be in charge of my radiation treatments. I had sentinel lymph node mapping done on the 22nd and my surgeon removed three lymph nodes. I asked what my pathology report was and the doctor secured my report. I knew something was wrong when he looked at the paperwork and said he needed to ask the pathologist a question. I figured if the report had said clear he wouldn’t have had any questions.
Sure enough, the radiologist came back with the news I didn’t want to hear. “Out of the three lymph nodes, two were involved.” He continued to talk and I interrupted. “What do you mean involved?” Oh, I knew. But I felt like making him say it. Just tell me. Your lymph nodes are cancerous. Why does anyone think the news will be easier to take if it is cloaked in camouflage words like “involved” instead of “invaded” or “infected?”
Well, the good news is that one lymph node is only “involved” nine millimeters and the other one is only “involved” three millimeters.
To be brutally honest, that doesn’t sound like any good news to me. The good news had previously been that my tumor was small and the perimeters were clear. So how did I get from that good news to this good news?
I can hear a thousand expressions of sympathy from people but it doesn’t take this trial away. I can hear a thousand prayers are being said for me but I will still walk alone. It will be me that goes through it. Everyone else will be on the outer edge but I’ll be the only one right in the middle of it.
I do not want to go on this journey but I know I have no choice. I feel very mad at God for this. I feel like my life for the last few months was built on false hope. And He let me down! All that early detection crap I’ve heard and relied on has taken me to the place I didn’t want to be. Now I am going to have to have another surgery and have more lymph nodes taken, do chemo and then radiation. I am going to go through the whole horrible process. I fatalistically expect that down the line there will be more bad news. I’ll likely have all the complications that can come with chemo, lymph node removal and radiation. I base it on my past experience. I am living proof of it right now. It was unexpected for a small tumor to have lymph node involvement.
So tomorrow I go to another new doctor. An oncologist who specializes in chemotherapy. All breast cancer patients lose their hair. For years I have always said I would not do chemotherapy, if the situation arose. Now I have to reconsider that because that is what everyone, the medical field, my family and friends expect me to do.
My poor family, I hate it that they have to go through this. My husband says he will take it one day at a time. Maybe he will have to do that for both of us. My daughters are having the happy life they deserve but now they will have to deal with a sick mother.
My poor little bride to be. Her wedding is in December. These last few months were to be a happy time of planning a wedding. She deserved to have a Mom in it with her like her sisters did. I will be weak, tired, bald and aged by effects of treatment.
OK, God. You allowed this in my life. You need to help me get through it. Because right now, I feel totally let down, betrayed, without hope and defeated. As my Dad reminded me, you were not surprised this morning with this news. So since you weren’t surprised by the lymph node news, you aren’t surprised at my reaction. You knew I would feel these feelings. So even though you feel a billion trillion miles away, I know you hear me. And I need your help. My inner voice is screaming at you God. My fists are clenched and I am shouting at you through my tears, WHY? WHY? WHY?
Today I found out I have cancer in my lymph nodes.
Interesting that I started my cancer journal on February 26th, 2004 with the words, “Today I found out I have breast cancer. “ Here it is five months later to the date and the news is not much better. I have barely written in this journal for over four months. Either I gave it up because of denial, mind exhaustion from thinking about cancer constantly or I was not willing to share my thoughts out loud anymore. Or maybe it was all of the above. These last four months fluctuated between days of frustration and cold stark fear in the back of my mind, which usually surfaces in the middle of the night, and then the beautiful contrast of many moments of regular routine, which I totally love and crave. Today’s news will change all that. I expect my life will not be my own for the next six months at least.
I went to see my radiologist at the Sarah Cannon Cancer Center this morning. He is in charge of the center and is the doctor who will be in charge of my radiation treatments. I had sentinel lymph node mapping done on the 22nd and my surgeon removed three lymph nodes. I asked what my pathology report was and the doctor secured my report. I knew something was wrong when he looked at the paperwork and said he needed to ask the pathologist a question. I figured if the report had said clear he wouldn’t have had any questions.
Sure enough, the radiologist came back with the news I didn’t want to hear. “Out of the three lymph nodes, two were involved.” He continued to talk and I interrupted. “What do you mean involved?” Oh, I knew. But I felt like making him say it. Just tell me. Your lymph nodes are cancerous. Why does anyone think the news will be easier to take if it is cloaked in camouflage words like “involved” instead of “invaded” or “infected?”
Well, the good news is that one lymph node is only “involved” nine millimeters and the other one is only “involved” three millimeters.
To be brutally honest, that doesn’t sound like any good news to me. The good news had previously been that my tumor was small and the perimeters were clear. So how did I get from that good news to this good news?
I can hear a thousand expressions of sympathy from people but it doesn’t take this trial away. I can hear a thousand prayers are being said for me but I will still walk alone. It will be me that goes through it. Everyone else will be on the outer edge but I’ll be the only one right in the middle of it.
I do not want to go on this journey but I know I have no choice. I feel very mad at God for this. I feel like my life for the last few months was built on false hope. And He let me down! All that early detection crap I’ve heard and relied on has taken me to the place I didn’t want to be. Now I am going to have to have another surgery and have more lymph nodes taken, do chemo and then radiation. I am going to go through the whole horrible process. I fatalistically expect that down the line there will be more bad news. I’ll likely have all the complications that can come with chemo, lymph node removal and radiation. I base it on my past experience. I am living proof of it right now. It was unexpected for a small tumor to have lymph node involvement.
So tomorrow I go to another new doctor. An oncologist who specializes in chemotherapy. All breast cancer patients lose their hair. For years I have always said I would not do chemotherapy, if the situation arose. Now I have to reconsider that because that is what everyone, the medical field, my family and friends expect me to do.
My poor family, I hate it that they have to go through this. My husband says he will take it one day at a time. Maybe he will have to do that for both of us. My daughters are having the happy life they deserve but now they will have to deal with a sick mother.
My poor little bride to be. Her wedding is in December. These last few months were to be a happy time of planning a wedding. She deserved to have a Mom in it with her like her sisters did. I will be weak, tired, bald and aged by effects of treatment.
OK, God. You allowed this in my life. You need to help me get through it. Because right now, I feel totally let down, betrayed, without hope and defeated. As my Dad reminded me, you were not surprised this morning with this news. So since you weren’t surprised by the lymph node news, you aren’t surprised at my reaction. You knew I would feel these feelings. So even though you feel a billion trillion miles away, I know you hear me. And I need your help. My inner voice is screaming at you God. My fists are clenched and I am shouting at you through my tears, WHY? WHY? WHY?
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