Every Single Day - A Letter To My Husband

I have had this letter in my head for some time now.  I wanted to write it for my husband because I have said a lot of this to him, but written words are sometimes more powerful.  But I also thought that I can't be the only crazy, psycho wife who went through treatment who has acted this way.  (I hope not otherwise that takes my craziness to a whole new level!) Maybe this will help another woman see that she is not alone.  To give herself some grace.  When it comes to chemo and cancer diagnoses, there are no instructions on what is normal.

Because there is no normal.

No one's person's journey is the same.  But I do believe that our underlying feelings are the same - fear, uncertainty, loss of innocence, feelings of not belonging, etc.  All that can lead to a change in character.  Then add the poison that is the treatment.  And nausea.  And diarrhea.  And bone pain. And fatigue like you have never experienced before.  Etc. Etc. Etc. It is a wonder we make it out even slightly normal.

This is dedicated to all the spouses, mothers, children, friends who have helped someone through treatment.

Dear Husband,

     I think about how much I love you EVERY SINGLE day.  I think about how wonderful you have been throughout this whole, horrible ordeal.  You have been nothing but supportive.  You, who HAS to fix things, had to just watch me go through pain.  Just watch me and feel helpless.  There wasn't anything you could do to fix this one.  You ran to the store for my prescriptions and numerous other pills to deal with the side effects of chemo and radiation.  One time, at 1 am, after I had endured 4 hours of debilitating stomach cramps, you headed to the store for Imodium.  You watched the kids when all I could do was stay in bed, not moving, hoping I didn't get sick.  You drove me to all my surgeries, said prayers with me, and then had to wait by yourself.  Worrying about me.  You helped me shave my head even though I saw it was killing you to do so.  You ALWAYS look at me with love and lust.  Even though my body is misshapen from numerous surgeries.   You did so many loads of laundry when I couldn't.  You made me dinner and put it on a nice tray.  You even put flowers on that tray when you could.  When I did feel well enough to handle the kids and the house while you went to work, you called and checked on me.  You came home - pretending you needed to come home for something other than to make sure I was okay - early to be with us.  You held me hand when I was in pain.  You dried my tears when I was hurting and scared.  You called my friends over to make me laugh when all I was doing was rolling my eyes at you or snapping answers to your questions.  You always came home and, before you did anything else, you gave me a hug and a kiss.

     And I also think about how much I have beaten you up.  Because I know you love me so much, I trusted that you would still love me even after you saw the ugly part of me.  (That fact came out in therapy.  That is why our spouses get the worst of it.)  The ugly part that yelled at you that I didn't want any more food, even though you just wanted to make sure my body had some fuel.  When my body was wracked with bone pain and stomach pain and just all over pain, I snapped at you when you asked if I wanted to come outside with the you and the boys.  You thought it would help and I just yelled.  Ugly.  When you suggested a car ride to get out of the house, I yelled very sarcastically, "My body hurts!  Can you guarantee that you won't hit any bumps?!"  When you asked if I had taken my medicine, because you wanted to help, I meanly said, "Of course I did!  I am not a child."  Ugly. Ugly. When my brain was so messed up from the mets and the steroids and the radiation, I just yelled at you.  The reason doesn't matter.  I just yelled.  One morning, when my brain was really bad, I couldn't send an email.  The keyboard didn't make sense.  You came down stairs and I just yelled.  Ugly words about how I couldn't get my computer to work.  Ugly.  Ugly.  Ugly.  I heard it, told myself to stop, but I couldn't.  And you calmly said that you would do it for me.  When I couldn't even remember what day it was and got the family schedule completely turned around, you hugged me and told me it was fine.  It wasn't fine.

     I knew it wasn't fine.  But I couldn't stop.  I told myself to stop being so mean.  To stop being someone I wouldn't even hang out with. EVER.  But I couldn't stop.  Yes, I know, the drugs contributed, my lack of sleep was contributing, my constant headaches were contributing, etc, etc.  But I realized what I was doing.  I thought about it EVERY SINGLE day and, yet, I continued to do it.  And I am so very sorry.

     And because of the amazing person that you, you will say it is fine and you understand.  But you are human.  There is no way you could have totally understood why this person that you love is being this way to you.  Or not have been affected by it.  I have left scars.  A few big ones.  And that is what kills me.  Scars are forever.

     But....

     So are we.  That is the positive that has come out of this.  I know that you are not going anywhere.  You are here to fight right along side of me.  Thank you for picking up your shield and running straight at this with me.

     Scars are forever.  But so are we.  I will spend the rest of OUR forever kissing those scars so they don't hurt as much.  And I hope soon that your face won't look wounded when I talk to you. I promise that I will improve myself every day.  I will strive to be as wonderful to you as you have been for the last three years.  Because I think about how much I love you EVERY SINGLE day.  You should feel that EVERY SINGLE day.

During the last three years, I felt your love EVERY SINGLE day even though my demeanor didn't show it.  But I felt it.  My goal is for you to feel my love EVERY SINGLE day until we are 90.

This journey has been ugly.  I have been ugly.  But I am trying to stop.  I don't want to be ugly to you.  I just want to love you.  I am sorry that my words and actions don't always portray that.  Especially since your actions have done nothing but show how much you love me.

Thank you for being an amazing husband.  Thank you for taking care of me during my surgeries and treatments and crazy thoughts.  I could not imagine going through this with anyone else but you.  You.  My beautiful husband who took care of me and continues to do so EVERY.  SINGLE. DAY.

I love you.  EVERY.  SINGLE.  DAY.

                                                                                                                             Love, Your Wife

One of my favorite pictures...when I was nicer.

   

   
   

More Good News

I say Dr. Hahm on Monday.  She was very happy with the results of the MRI.  I feel that she seemed surprised at how well I have responded.  At one point, I did remind her that I was a superstar.  She agreed.

We didn't really hear anything new.  We will continue with the chemo (horse) pills and retest with an MRI in three months.  The assumption is: If in two months, the lesions were reduced by 50%, we should get some really good news in three months!

In the past, when I have gotten good news, I don't think I embraced that news 100 percent.  Maybe because I am not used to good news?  Maybe because my fear outweighed my faith?  Maybe because I am human and that is what we do?  Whatever the reason, I wasn't accepting that I was good.  That I was healed.

I have been working on that these last two months.  It seems like rejoicing would be so easy.  But as a 4-time survivor, it isn't.  You wake up with thoughts of it coming back.  You walk around your day with aches and pains and try NOT to think what they could mean.  You see others laughing and you are so intensely jealous of their innocence and their lives that don't have chemo and doctor's appointments in it.  It is just hard.  Hard to escape the thoughts in your head.

But I think I figured out some of it.  Still learning and struggling daily, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I am laughing OUT LOUD more.  I didn't really do that much before.  I am playing with my boys more.  My phone is usually in another room instead of next to me tempting to look at it and check this app or that one.  My dishes and housework pile up because me and my boys are coloring or pretending to be worms.

It only took 44 years and some tough things in my life to get it.  Now, every morning,  I am on my knees thanking God for pain-free days, rash-free days, 50% reduction in lesions, and my family and friends and another day to love them.

My birthday was a good day.  Birthdays now have a different meaning.  Not another year older, but another year I got to live and enjoy the GOOD things that He gives us.

I read a book: Radical Remission.  It is a great book filled with hope.  Thousands of stories of people sent home because there wasn't anything the doctors could do.  Others who chose not to go the tradition route of chemo and radiation.  And they all cured their cancer.  There were 9 key factors that all these people did.  The first one being diet (that made me smile).  Another was positive thinking.  The author, after talking to these miracles, suggested that we ALL write down the age we want to live.  Put it up in several places in your house.  And affirm it whenever you see it.  I like that.  I am going to live to 90.  I have claimed it and believe it.

And on my 90th birthday, I will be laughing and dancing and smiling with my friends and family.  I hope to see you there.

Make sure one of you makes this sign, please:

Happy Birthday To Me!

For the past week, I have had two movies playing in my head.  The first is the doctor's office saying, "We are sorry, but the chemo isn't making any headway in reducing the lesions."  Ugh. Then comes the physical turmoil in my stomach and my head.  Then I breathe deep and tell myself that I am thinking that because I am human.  And I have heard more bad news than good.  And I am just scared.  But I quickly replace it with a better movie....

The doctor's office saying, "We are really confused because we cannot find any spots on the MRI scan."  Wouldn't that be awesome sauce?!?

All day long, I kept my phone in my hand.  Ready to answer to hear the results.  I called twice and gave them my cell phone number.  I get home at 2 and there is a message on our house phone from the PA.  Really?!?  She said she is calling with the results from the MRI.  And she said, "And everything is fine."  So I wasn't that nervous when I called back.

Neither movie came into fruition, but a new movie played and I am happy!  Everything has shrunken!  Woo-hoo!  The biggest lesion is on my cerebellum.  It went from 1.9 X 1.6 down to 1.0 X .07.  Almost 50%!

The next one is on top of my head.  It went from 1.4 X 1.3 to 1.1 X .9.  Not as much of a shrinkage, but now the same size as the other one.  

She also mentioned that there is significant reduction in swelling in the overall brain!!!

I am pretty sure there are other lesions, but too small to mention over the phone.  I will go in and speak to them on Monday at 3:45 and get more details.  But.....

It is working!  I am on my way to being another miracle.  Or just continuing to be a miracle.  Thank you for all your support, calls, texts, movies, encouragement, hugs, understanding, and all the love.  I know for a fact that I would not be where I am today without all of you.  #dawnsarmy rocks!

My brain has graduated to the next level.  Getting rid of it completely is the next class!!

Laughing Is Good for the Soul (And the immune system)

My next scan is on April 13.  My appointment is on April 18 to get the results.  Did you do the math?  Five days to hear the results.  I did not realize that when the told me the dates.  So I called and asked for an appointment closer to the 13th.  They didn't have one.  So I asked if I could be called with the results (this is not my first rodeo) as soon as they got them.  And I would still come on the 18th.  (Which is the day before my birthday.  Can't wait to celebrate!)  They agreed.  They said they "should" have the results by Friday.  Cross your fingers I don't have to wait through the weekend.

My trip to Miami was amazing!  It was an organic spa (http://www.carillonhotel.com).  Since I started this journey, going out of town requires a lot of prep.  I have to bring my juicer, pots and pans, silverware, teapot, spices, wheat grass, blender, my Kangen machine, food, food, food, etc.  We finally are at the point where the boys don't need all the baby stuff, but mom makes up for it with all her stuff.

I didn't pack any of that stuff for Miami.  They had a juice bar that did wheatgrass shots right on our floor!  Their food was all organic.  They even had organic tea in our suite!  I was worried about my Kangen water, but I found a lady who was 15 minutes away from the hotel who sells it.  She gave us 4 gallons of alkalized water that lasted until we left!

I didn't have to cook.  I didn't have to do dishes.  I didn't have to bring my food to a restaurant and watch everyone order from the menu.  It was so nice.  I would HIGHLY recommend the Carillon to anyone!  You are treated like a movie star.  A bit pricey, but worth it.  We found several restaurants "off sight" that were yummy and very filling.

As most of you know, every night I pray that God puts people in my path, treatments in my path, books, supplements, etc.  AND the knowledge to discern what I should do and not do.  Well, my sisters and I were talking and I was telling them that I feel there is this one element that we are missing for my complete healing.  And we just need to figure that out.

Out of the blue, I get an email from Mañana.  Recall, she was at the beginning of this journey.  She really got us going in the right direction.  Hadn't heard from her in awhile.  Her email asked how I was doing mentally.  And I told her good.  And then she responded with, "You might need to go back to your childhood, a past relationship, and write about it.  Talk to God about how you feel.  Then let it go!  THEN YOU WILL BE HEALED."  

What?!?  How did she know I was looking for something like this?

Then I was telling the same thing my acupuncturist and she asked, "Do you want to know what your guides are saying?"  OF COURSE!!  She said they are saying that I need to find my joy.  I started tearing up.  One, because that is sad that I apparently haven't found it, and two, because that was scary to me.  How do I find my joy when I thought I had it?

She then retold a story about a woman (or maybe it was a man) who was sent home "because there wasn't anything the doctors could do".  The couple literally sat around and watched funny movies all day long.  And within two months, NED!  (No evidence of disease).  Doctors are baffled and don't believe what she did cured her.

I knew that and tried to start Ellen nights on Wednesdays.  But it is hard for people to leave their families and come watch Ellen.  But I do know I need to laugh more.  So I have a question for you guys.  What is your favorite funny movie?  Do you own it?  Could I borrow it?  I am not asking for a list because I cannot afford to go out and buy all that are suggested.  But if you have it (and I do still have a VCR), label it with your name and drop it in my mailbox.  Or have it put in Jack or Charlie's bag at weekday.  Or I can come pick it up.  I need to laugh more.  I need to laugh those mets away.  We have less than a week until that scan.  Let's laugh so hard, my body is so happy it heals itself!

I will work on my past relationships.  Anyone want to laugh with me?