Be Careful What You Pray For

21 months ago, Jeff and I were rafting the Colorado river and camping under the stars in Utah. I befriended another mom on the trip, and she mentioned her love for running. Mini marathons and marathons in particular. I remember going to sleep that night praying, "Dear God, please make me a runner! I think it would be so good for me to have a physical activity that would let me clear my mind and give me some 'me' time."

Little did I know God already had a marathon planned for me. It just didn't involve putting on tennis shoes and hitting the pavement.

I've been MIA the past several weeks because, in fully transparency, chemo is kicking my ass. I decided to take a leave of absence in mid-February because I finally realized I was attempting to give 100% of the 40% I had to give each day to my work. And that left 0% for my family. Coming home and crashing each afternoon was not the way I needed to treat my body during this time. Furthermore, I was beginning to seriously question my prognosis if I continued to run myself into the ground each day. Work is important, but definitely not as important as beating this stupid disease. And also...cancer doesn't keep a score card and say, "Complete pathologic response for you! You didn't miss a day of work!"

A month of house arrest has certainly fulfilled my prayer to "clear my mind and give me some 'me' time." I now truly have so much compassion for people who live by themselves, or are elderly and widowed. Being at home all day by yourself is no.freaking.joke. Then add on the delirium of fatigue; when you find value in helping others and getting things done, the whole situation quickly becomes a dumpster fire. And don't even get me started on coronavirus! If you're following protocol and partaking in social distancing, all of y'all are going to start going stir crazy real soon! 😬

I hit my lowest point along this entire journey on Monday evening. At that point, I was spiraling into some really dark places and questioning why I was even fighting this thing. I'll spare the details, but the best thing I allowed myself to do was feel all the bad. Journaling my thoughts and writing down everything (even the scary things that brought tears to my eyes) was actually the exact thing I needed to do. Noticing the emotions, allowing them, sitting with them, honoring them, and then letting them go is the most healing thing I can do for myself. It's when I tell everyone and myself, "I'm fine! I'm fine! Everything is fine!" that I become mentally unhealthy. Shoving my emotions down only allows them to build and fester. Then anger turns to resentment, and that never fares well.

I met with my oncologist today and learned some good news and bad news. The good news is the main tumor has shrunk down to less than 1cm! She still cannot feel any lymph nodes on my left side, and the tumor on the left side also cannot be felt (it was only 9mm to begin with).

The bad news is I will likely need to do 6 weeks of radiation after my surgery. This was never mentioned as part of the plan, so in my head I had around July 1st as my day to resume my new normal. Side note: there will be another blog post on my new normal after treatment. Please do not say, "This will all be over soon." Active treatment will be over, yes. But a cancer diagnosis is never over. Ever. My new normal will consist of living my life in 3 month, 6 month, and potentially 1 year chunks of time hoping that my scans show the cancer has not returned. 

I feel like my original marathon training plan, which was already 26.2 miles, has now turned into the Ironman Triathlon. The chemo and surgery plan I was ok with (although I'm still struggling with the upcoming double mastectomy...blah). But now to be told I'm going to have to drive to Lexington every day for radiation for 6 weeks this summer was not what I wanted to hear.

I'm in this weird mourning/anger phase. I'm mourning the loss of my summer and the vision of spending time with my boys. I'm angry that most of our summer plans likely will not happen. I'm angry that the plan has changed. I'm angry that my surgery in mid-May does not have the potential to be the finish line of the race. (Info on that: if there is no evidence of disease, they declare me with a "pathologic complete response." If there is evidence of disease remaining, then I can either do additional rounds of IV chemo with carboplatin, or I will take Xeloda, a pill form of chemo. Please pray for a pathologic complete response...50% of patients receive this good news, which is what I want!) I also understand that radiation is not a bad thing, and is what NEEDS to happen if my pathology results warrant it. However, it's mentally hard to feel like you're making progress by nearing the end of chemo, only to find out you have even more things ahead of you.

So, although this may not be the cheeriest post, it's real and transparent and raw. I pray none of you ever have to go through this. I mean it. I don't say that to be dramatic; I say it because we all take our sense of normal for granted. Six months ago I was irritated by the never-ending laundry and deciding what to make for dinner. Now I would do anything to be able to wash clothes I wore to work instead of yoga pants and sweatshirts. I would love to go to the grocery and not worry about picking up an illness that puts me in the hospital. I would love to regularly cook dinner for my family; I love being in the kitchen! But sometimes the fatigue is too much, so Chick-fil-a it is for the third night that week.

I love you all. Stay healthy, take care of each other, and wash your darn hands!