North Star, lost then found.

For quite awhile I've been feeling pretty lost in life. I know I'm not actually lost, and I feel like I am finally starting to find my way, but when the contents of your life gets dumped out like an old diorama, it's not easy to find your North Star.

When I was diagnosed back in 2014 my world collapsed. It felt like Godzilla came along and brought his BFF, Destruction, for an old fashion hay day. At the time I really wasn't able to confront the giant lizard, so I hid in a back alley with my head down waiting desperately for the day it would be "over". That went on for about a year and half. When I thought the dust had settled enough to return to my life and try to put everything back together, it was a lot harder than I imagined. The pieces didn't fit the way they used to, and for all my efforts and tears, I still couldn't put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

I figured I'd wait it out and eventually I'd find a new North Star that would look really similar to my old one, with maybe a few reasonable adjustments. But then, when I found out the cancer had spread, life came to a screeching halt. Finding a new North Star was not even on the radar for many months while I lived in somewhat of a crisis mode. Since my last surgery, in late July, things have calmed down enough for me look up and wonder which star/path is mine to follow, and realize it will never look anything like my old star.

With that wonder has come questions. The big ones. Like: What do you want to do with the time you have here? What do you want to leave behind? What have you done with all the time you've already been given? What do you want to say to others? To anyone who may want to listen? To life? And of course, is anyone I know prepared to love my cats as much as I do??? Probably not, so I should probably stick around for as long as possible.  And while I'm at it, try to explore the answers to some of the previous questions.

During my search for some of these answers I went to an art fair last month with some dear friends. I saw 2 pieces of art that struck me immediately. One was of a cat, gigantic like Godzilla, over the city of Milwaukee, and the other was a card with various mountains painted on it and below said the words I have been thinking on ever since, "Be Kind, Be Brave"; four simple word, two simple questions. I began to ask myself, "What is the kindest thing I can do with the life I have, and what is the bravest thing I can do?". I have landed on an answer to both, at least partially. Simply share.

Find my voice and share it, along with my life and story, with you, and anyone else who wants to listen. Not just the pretty and polished parts, all the parts--or, as much as I can get the courage to share (baby steps).

So far, the answer has been the only part that has felt easy. After these last few years I feel like I lost my voice, and I definitely lost who I thought I was and what I thought I had to contribute. But I want to start contributing again, although it is terrifying. I WANT to share my story, the things I have learned and my life with you. I don't want to hide in the back alley (or really anywhere) anymore. The coping strategy of "hunker down until it blows over" just does not apply anymore. It is a different life in so many ways.

My new North Star is leading me down a different path.

I started my 2 Shots of Valor Facebook page as a central location to share. I honestly have no idea what I am doing, but I'm going for it and we can laugh at my fumbles and misspellings along the way, together. I hope you find it helpful. I hope we both find it encouraging, comforting and healing. And don't worry, there will be plenty of pictures of my cats along the way (give the people what they really want!!).

Thank you for sticking with me through the quiet. I'm still here, and very much alive.
xoxo

When life hands you lemons, get a kitten.

On February 18^th I turned 38, 6 days later I was told I have stage 4 breast cancer. Wait….,WHAT???! Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought, too. Let’s back up…

The week before my birthday I took a short vacation with some friends. I had been traveling non-stop for work and needed a break. When I got home I thought I was coming down with something. I was a little short of breath and coughing here and there, but I did not feel sick. All I wanted for my birthday was couch time.

When the symptoms continued but I was clearly not developing a cold, I went to a Yoga class to “focus on my breath”. I thought the shortness of breath must just be anxiety, but while the stretching felt good there was no improvement in the breathing department.

I was scheduled to fly out again on Wednesday for work, but after talking to my sister Elisabeth (nurse sister) I knew I needed to get checked out prior to flying. She was concerned there may be a clot in my lung, which could be a BIG problem at 35,000 feet. I had an appointment with my counselor at the hospital the next day so I planned to see if she could get me in with someone on short notice. By the time I met with her something was noticeably wrong. I was having a really hard time breathing and major anxiety. I left the appointment early and drove a few blocks to the ER to begin the stabbing and probing to figure out what was wrong with me.

They did x-rays, a CT, blood work, etc. and determined there was fluid all around my right lung; so basically I was only breathing with one lung for the last few days. Great. The anxiety made a lot more sense now. I was admitted to the hospital that evening. On Wednesday morning they removed the fluid so it could be tested. I’ll spare you the details, but you’ll want to add that to your list of things to avoid if humanly possible.

After sitting in the hospital and getting no information or results for another 36 hours, I finally asked them to release me. I knew they were concerned the cancer had spread and I couldn’t take them looking at me with “sad/poor you, we know something but aren’t telling you faces” any longer. If I had to sit, cry and wait, I wanted to be a home burying my face in my cat’s fur (He really loves the personal space invasion).

The robotic call came Friday morning, February 24^th. I’m sure it was a Doctor on the other end of the line, but I’m guessing wire and screws have long since replaced his insides. I don’t blame him, I’m sure it’s an occupational hazard that comes with giving this type of news. He suggested I move up my 6 month routine check-up scheduled for May 1^st. Seriously? I’m no doctor, but I think that went without saying.

I met with my oncologist the following week as well as a pulmonary doctor for my lung situation. I also returned to the ER to drain the fluid around my lung, again. The week after, they placed a semi-permanent catheter so the fluid could be drained as needed without me having to go into the ER every time. This was helpful, yet very painful and surreal to have a hose coming out the side of my body 24/7. A nurse came to my apartment, daily at first, to drain the fluid. God bless her.

Meanwhile, I got a PET scan, which showed the breast cancer had come back and was now on my right lung and possibly a bone in my tailbone area. The doctor explained that the cells found in the fluid were consistent with the cells found in the original tumor removed in 2015 and were very high in estrogen. What has proven true over and again, is that cancer is confusing, at least to me anyway.

My oncologist gave me her care plan, so I got a second opinion at the University of Chicago. The initial plan included 12 rounds of Taxol Chemo (which I did in 2015), followed by a daily chemo pill, a hormone suppression pill and, ideally, by having my ovaries removed surgically. I said no. Initially. I just needed time to think and breathe. After my 2014 diagnosis I panicked and rushed my decisions, understandably, but I knew I did not want to take that approach again.

After researching and taking into consideration both doctor’s opinions I decided I would do the daily chemo pill and the hormone suppressing pill along with a monthly shot to shut down my ovaries until I could process and research more. At that time I said no to the 12 rounds of Taxol. The treatments I agreed to started in April.

Most of the decisions I have made regarding all things cancer have been really hard. Grueling even. But within 24 hours of being re-diagnosed there were 2 things I knew I 100% wanted to do:

1. Get my reconstruction implants removed from the double mastectomy in 2015 (the major discomfort, complications, etc. over the past 2 years was no longer worth it),

2. Adopt a kitten (because baby animals make everything better. It’s science).

March 12^th A.W. Tozer came to live with Boo Radley and me.

April 13^th I had the removal surgery.

After a long process healing from surgery, the last couple months have been better. With treatment, the fluid around the lung slowed to a more “normal”/manageable amount after about 3-4 weeks. In early May the lung doctor decided we could go ahead and remove the catheter he placed back in March, and so far all is well. I never imagined being free of tubes coming out of my body would be anywhere on my gratitude list, but it is now up near the top.

Currently, I’m feeling pretty well. They continue to monitor my blood work monthly, as well as monthly shots and meeting with my oncologist. The daily chemo pill makes my white count a bit low so I am not able to keep up with my work travel schedule. Short-term disability and family and friends’ contributions help so much. I have another PET scan scheduled for July 24^th, so I will know more when I meet with the doctor in early August.

Honestly, when I first heard the words “Stage 4” it FELT like a death sentence—but I KNOW now that is not necessarily the case.

The last few months I have spent more time with my family, friends and cats, which has been a gift. I am also working, via phone, with an integrative doctor out of Memphis, TN, and he is very encouraging. I know there are more difficult decisions to be made, but I will huff some essential oils and cross that road when and if the time comes.

I believe that God is with me every step, through the good days and the bad days, tears, anger, laugher, etc., and He loves me even more than I love my cats (if that’s even possible…). The fact that He doesn’t change, even though everything else feels like it has, somehow makes me feel better and have more stability.

Thank you for reading this and for caring about me. I know this isn’t the fun thing to read. Thank you for your prayers and/or thinking of me.

xoxo