Six months. Yes, it’s six months down the road from the first time I started my cancer journey. I was told at the first meeting with the oncologist, that if I did nothing, I would be dead in three months. Then last month when I mentioned what he told me, he responded by telling me that he was actually being generous that he really thought I had only 2 to 3 weeks to live. Yikes!
So, what has happened in these past six months? How am I physically, mentally, and spiritually? How did I get through the probably most frightening 6 months of my life?
The only other time I have ever had a major health crisis was in June 1979. My youngest child was about to celebrate his first birthday when I ended up in the hospital with an ectopic pregnancy. In case that term is unfamiliar with you, it is also known as a tubal pregnancy. A simple explanation is that an egg get fertilized in the fallopian tube but for some reason does not drop into the uterus to attach and grow and make a wonderful new baby. Instead, it starts to grow in the fallopian tube, which does not expand, and the tube bursts and hemorrhaging begins. This bleeding is internal, so the only signs I had something very wrong with my body was that I could not talk above a whisper, could not take a deep breath, and I had severe pain in my shoulder blades. It was an odd set of symptoms that told me nothing of what was really going on.
I learned from my OBGYN that when internally hemorrhaging, the blood pooled under my diaphragm making it very difficult to breathe and speak out loud because I couldn’t get much air into my lungs. It also cause severe lightheadedness The pain in the shoulder blades was just all the pressure that was happening in my body with blood flowing where it didn’t belong.
I was fortunate. Many women who have this happen, hemorrhage so much that they pretty much die on the spot. I did not. I was rushed into an operating room. During the operation and in recovery, I was given five units of blood. That’s more than half of the blood volume in my body. To say the least, it took me several months to recover the energy I had before this occurrence happened.
Now, 47 years later, I am once again considered critically ill. Once again, I had no real symptoms of being sick, but a scan for just a follow up to make sure my lungs were okay from having a bad case of valley fever. What a shock to find out my lungs, liver, and brain were not okay. Within weeks I had a biopsy, had a port placed, and was in chemotherapy.
My head was spinning. How did this happen? How and why is it small cell lung cancer (the worst of all the lung cancers as far as I read)? Why was I feeling so healthy and yet get such an ugly diagnosis? What on earth is going on?
A year earlier, a visit with a friend in Missouri had set everything in motion. Coincidence? I think not. I see God’s hand in all of this. If these really crazy events didn’t happen the way they did, I would not be here today. During this visit my friend encouraged me to ask my doctor for a CT scan of my head and neck because I had some salivary gland issues. This friend, at the time, was going through treatment for cancer of her salivary glands. I had some minor issues with my salivary glands, and when I shared that with her, she suggested I get it checked in case I had what she had. My doctor ordered a CT scan of my head and neck. I did not have a serious problem with my salivary glands, but the scan showed the upper part of my lungs which had nodules, which is a common thing for someone who has had valley fever. Most doctors would leave it there and not be concerned, but my new and young primary care doctor suggested we take a look again in about 6 months just to see that everything was stable. What that next scan showed in late December was there were some masses in my liver that looked like it could possibly be metastatic disease, in other words cancer tumors. That set the ball rolling for consultation, biopsy, and finally a diagnosis that I never expected.
Years ago, while attending Codependents Anonymous, I learned that there were many things I have no control over. The Serenity Prayer became a big part of my life—figuring out what I had control of and what I did not have control of. I learned to work on what I could control, and what I could not control, I had to turn over to God. He is the only one who can control all things.
I am grounded in the Gospel of Jesus Christ—his death and resurrection for the forgiveness of my sins so that I can have a personal relationship with God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. That grounding is so important to give me clarity of who is in control of my life. I can control how I think, how I feel, what I need to do as far as getting my treatment, my doctor can control what he orders for my treatment, and so on with each health care worker, but only God has total control. He knows the number of my days, he is capable of healing. He brings comfort and joy into my life. I now wake up each morning and thank God for giving me another day. When my life is over, whenever that will be, it’s not lights out. I will be alive and more awake than I have ever been, and I will be in the presence of my Savior, Jesus Christ, rejoicing with all the saints the God who gave us life for eternity.
I am now walking through unknown territory. There are bumps and curves and rocky places. I am so grateful that I feel so good physically. As I have told my children for years when they would call and ask how I am, I always told them, “I’m good until I’m not.”
I am blown away by the love and support I have received from my family, from my friends, and I mean friends since my childhood, my teen years, my young adult years up through my currently friends. Wow! Thank you all. You have no idea how much your love, and encouragement has meant to me. I appreciate all your prayers. I know God has honored these prayers from so many geographically different locations.
This journey has encouraged me to love and reach out to so many of my friends who are struggling with cancer and other illnesses. I have finally written down every name so I can pray specifically for them. My list is made up of the following cancer people: Andrew, Bill, Danny, Elaine, Peggy, Rachel, Rob, and Steve.
Also have a list of others who are dealing with different, but serious medical issues: Burke, Colton, Delaney, Dennis, Frannie, Koy, Laurie, Michaela, Mike, Paul, Richard, and Wayne.
If you see your name on this list, you can know that I am continually praying for you. If you wish to be on either of these lists, please reach out to me. I would love to pray for you. I never really realized how much it meant to me to be prayed for, and now I want to be a blessing to you if you need prayer.
I also have a written list of family who I pray for, not necessarily for health issues, but for whatever needs that may need divine intervention.
My spiritual life has grown since my diagnosis. I am more aware of God’s hand in my life and others. I am trying my best to reach out and be of encouragement and share the love of Jesus.
Psychologically, I am in a good place. Nothing panics me for long. I do, on occasion, worry, but then I realize that worrying is not trusting. I am focused on the big picture. I want to live my life well while I am still on this earth. I want to be able to reach out and encourage others while I am still on this earth. As long as I have purpose, I can do each day at a time.
Physically, I think I am doing well in spite of my diagnosis. Most of my hair fell out of my head. It is now growing back and growing curlier than I have remembered in the past of hair with lots of body. Actually, I was kind of disappointed when I realized I had to shave my legs again! And, you know those little individual hairs that pop out on our chin as we age? Yeah, well they came back too, much to my disappointment!
At this point in time, I am not short of breath, I am not fatigued, I’m not losing weight without trying, or any of the other symptoms when cancer takes center stage. I am assuming that the chemotherapy, immunotherapy, and radiation are doing what they are supposed to be doing.
Last month my oncologist told me if I do as well in these next six months as I did the first six months, we might be looking at remission. I would like to believe that is possible. With this crazy disease, it’s hard to tell. Those cancer cells hide in very obscure places. They just like to jump out and say, “Surprise.” I usually really like surprises, but not from these little demon cells.
I am grateful for everyday that I can be with all the wonderful people in my life. I can write my blogs to tell you how I am feeling. I can be there to give someone encouragement. I want to be able to do that to the end of my days.
Andrea Unsinkable 