Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Sneaky night time whatifs
When I asked myself how I would utilize this blog and how often I would write I decided that I would write when I had a story to tell, or any new information arose, or those times when my mind won't shut off and t.v. is not enough of a distraction. I can sum these 3 reasons up like this: when I have a story- these will most likely be my most well written and humorous post. I love to tell a good story. new information- these will be the cancer treatment update post and hopefully have corresponding pictures to go along with. non-shutting off mind- these will be....well I'm not sure. Random maybe. Heartfelt. Scared. These will be the ones my parents will have a hard time reading. Tonight, I'm the latter of the 3. Tonight, well, I'm having a moment.
Having a moment. This has been my new phrase that means, I'm not doing so good. Why? Well tonight there's a few things. One, I have cancer. I still can't get over the fact that I can say that phrase. It's crazy. It's surreal. It sucks. Also, I'm exhausted. I am blessed, and in my humble opinion, the luckiest human alive by my 2 children. But holy toledo...they're exhausting. What happens when I get my thyroid out? I will be down and out for a while and won't be able to be mommy like they are use to and like I love to be. That stinks. Oh yeah and what about when I potentially have to take radioactive iodine pills. I've heard you have to stay away from people during this time because you are FREAKING RADIOACTIVE. Did I hear that right? How the H-E-double hockeysticks do you wrap your brain around that? I can't help but picture Homer Simpson chillin' in Springfield at the nuclear plant. You know when they show the Simpson character in the opening credits wearing that body suit holding that glowy green stick thing in the nuclear plant. Well when I think about the potential time when I will be radioactive I picture everyone who comes in contact with me wearing that suit. Also, and brace yourself because this next part is going to be pretty dang pessimistic, I love love love that everyone is so optimistic and encouraging and all that. But here's the deal. It's cancer. Cancer. I keep thinking, yeah, they're right. I'm going to be just fine! No big deal. This is so treatable and it's going to work out just fine. BUT, what if it doesn't? What if it doesn't What.If.It.Doesn't?
I think maybe that last part is what is keeping me from sleep tonight. The dreaded what if. Is this helpful? Does it serve any purpose? Is it healthy? Is it anything positive in any way? Nope. But here I am. See I really really want to know more. I want to know if this stupid thing has spread. I want to know what stage I am in. I want to sit down and stare the doctor in the face and hear the words come out of his mouth explaining exactly what the next steps are and what he thinks is going to happen. To be honest, I want to hear him say it's going to be alright. That we found it super early. That the cancer hasn't spread. I want to hear that it's really tiny. That my recovery rate isn't just high, but definite. I want to hear some gosh dang good news. From a doctor who has looked this tumor beast in the face and can call it for what it is.
But what sucks, is that as much as I want these things to happen, I am terrified. The last time I sat around waiting and hoping to hear from a doctor I found out I had cancer. That whole day I kept envisioning the conversation happening in my head on how the doc would give the all clear and I would go about my life happy as a clam and wondering how I got so dang lucky as to just drop 7 pounds for no reason. And that didn't happen. What if how I hope and pray this whole thing will play out doesn't happen? What if?
I want this thing out of me. I want it gone. I want it to not have spread. I want a clean bill of health. I want to never have had this happen. I want to be ok. I want to envision my life ahead and not wonder if I will be here to see that life unfold. I want to be patient. I want to trust. I want to find hope when I feel I have none. I want to sleep peacefully even with a stupid tumor beast in my neck. But most importantly I want to remember that God has me in his hands and remember the promises he has made not only to me but us all. I want. I want.
I am realizing that tonight I am not only plagued by the what ifs, but the I wants. And as I just wrote that sentence I remembered this poem by Shel Silverstein (who is a genius and I love). Here it is:
Having a moment. This has been my new phrase that means, I'm not doing so good. Why? Well tonight there's a few things. One, I have cancer. I still can't get over the fact that I can say that phrase. It's crazy. It's surreal. It sucks. Also, I'm exhausted. I am blessed, and in my humble opinion, the luckiest human alive by my 2 children. But holy toledo...they're exhausting. What happens when I get my thyroid out? I will be down and out for a while and won't be able to be mommy like they are use to and like I love to be. That stinks. Oh yeah and what about when I potentially have to take radioactive iodine pills. I've heard you have to stay away from people during this time because you are FREAKING RADIOACTIVE. Did I hear that right? How the H-E-double hockeysticks do you wrap your brain around that? I can't help but picture Homer Simpson chillin' in Springfield at the nuclear plant. You know when they show the Simpson character in the opening credits wearing that body suit holding that glowy green stick thing in the nuclear plant. Well when I think about the potential time when I will be radioactive I picture everyone who comes in contact with me wearing that suit. Also, and brace yourself because this next part is going to be pretty dang pessimistic, I love love love that everyone is so optimistic and encouraging and all that. But here's the deal. It's cancer. Cancer. I keep thinking, yeah, they're right. I'm going to be just fine! No big deal. This is so treatable and it's going to work out just fine. BUT, what if it doesn't? What if it doesn't What.If.It.Doesn't?
I think maybe that last part is what is keeping me from sleep tonight. The dreaded what if. Is this helpful? Does it serve any purpose? Is it healthy? Is it anything positive in any way? Nope. But here I am. See I really really want to know more. I want to know if this stupid thing has spread. I want to know what stage I am in. I want to sit down and stare the doctor in the face and hear the words come out of his mouth explaining exactly what the next steps are and what he thinks is going to happen. To be honest, I want to hear him say it's going to be alright. That we found it super early. That the cancer hasn't spread. I want to hear that it's really tiny. That my recovery rate isn't just high, but definite. I want to hear some gosh dang good news. From a doctor who has looked this tumor beast in the face and can call it for what it is.
But what sucks, is that as much as I want these things to happen, I am terrified. The last time I sat around waiting and hoping to hear from a doctor I found out I had cancer. That whole day I kept envisioning the conversation happening in my head on how the doc would give the all clear and I would go about my life happy as a clam and wondering how I got so dang lucky as to just drop 7 pounds for no reason. And that didn't happen. What if how I hope and pray this whole thing will play out doesn't happen? What if?
I want this thing out of me. I want it gone. I want it to not have spread. I want a clean bill of health. I want to never have had this happen. I want to be ok. I want to envision my life ahead and not wonder if I will be here to see that life unfold. I want to be patient. I want to trust. I want to find hope when I feel I have none. I want to sleep peacefully even with a stupid tumor beast in my neck. But most importantly I want to remember that God has me in his hands and remember the promises he has made not only to me but us all. I want. I want.
I am realizing that tonight I am not only plagued by the what ifs, but the I wants. And as I just wrote that sentence I remembered this poem by Shel Silverstein (who is a genius and I love). Here it is:
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow tall?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems swell, and then
The nighttime Whatifs strike again!
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow tall?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems swell, and then
The nighttime Whatifs strike again!
Whatifs suck. We all have them. All of us. Whatif I get sick and die? Whatif green hair grows on my chest? Whatif my parents get divorced? Whatif my head starts getting smaller? This poem I love because it reminds me we are never in this crazy life alone. Everyone is dealing with something and that something is a big deal to them. So I am not alone. I'm not alone and that is pretty cool.
I'm feeling better now. A little writing and some Shel Silverstein have allowed my mind to stop racing so much. I will now go lay my weary head, say good night to my Father above, kiss my hubs nighty night, turn on food network, and attempt to sleep away the whatifs and wake to a new day. Good night my readers and heres to hoping those sneaky nighttime whatifs leave you be as well. And P.S., I hate your stupid cells tumor beast.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Waking the sleeping beast
We poked the beast that is the tumor growing in my neck. It is not happy. Since I got my biopsy my neck has been sore and hurting. Today while talking to PJ I told him we woke the sleeping beast and it is angry. But here is the thing tumor beast, I don't like you. I'm not sure where you think you got this invitation to take up residence in my neck but you are not welcome and you are coming out!!!!
I talked with my endocrinologist doctor yesterday. I am not able to get in until June 5th. That's with him coming in special for me in the morning to see me. At first I was unhappy with this date but after talking with my doctor, feel ok with waiting that long...I guess. I also have a bit more info.
First, the type of cancer that I have is called papillary. My understanding is that this the the best of the 4 types you can have. I have taken an oath to stay off Google during this process. For those who don't know me (which I am amazed at all the messages from people I have never met, more on that in a second), I am what some may call a bit of a ummm...what's the right word....not quite a hypochondriac, but yeah maybe a bit of a hypochondriac. My running joke with my dad the past few days has been, "See I finally showed you!!!!" (referring to all the times I have told him I have cancer, any certain disease, and even one time anthrax poisoning, that's right anthrax). So in an effort to save a bit of my sanity I refuse to google anything related to thyroid cancer. BUT, I have received very encouraging information and statistics from various friends/family/strangers that assure me that this is the cancer to get if you are going to get a cancer. And the recovery rate is quite high. So I will cling to those words of encouragement and leave Google searches to the more sane :)
Next, the most likely path of treatment will be: first, we must make sure the cancer hasn't spread. If it hasn't, we will take out my poor little thyroid completely. Then, the doctor will determine if I need to take some radioactive iodine pills to precautionarly get rid of any lingering cells. Last, I will need to take thyroid medication, which I hear can be a quite a process to get right for your body.
OK, my hubs is giving me the, get off the computer we have to go look but first I need to take a moment to speak to the response I have received in the past 24 hours regarding this blog. Wow. I have had text message, voicemails, emails, and FB messages from so many of you and I cannot thank you enough. I mean it. Writing is therapeutic to me and I have always loved it. I forgot how much until I started typing the first sentence of my last post. And I have to say, the idea that people out there are reading about me, my experience, and my little family, well it's not enough to say that it means a lot to me. It is a comfort. It is reassuring. I soak up every word of support and encouragement from your responses. Keep em coming.
I am about to head out to dinner now with a large part of my Lockhart family. We will no doubt be wrangling, singing, distracting, and trying to prevent meltdowns from my 2 weary travelers (aka: my baby loves) for the next 3 hours, wish me luck. I will end today's post with this. Thank you. Thank you for reading, thank you for caring, thank you for reaching out to me. I cannot get enough of it :)
The beast once slept. We woke it up. Now it's time to slay this thing and reclaim by body as my own.
And next time, I promise to enlighten you on my new found disgust for Thyroid cells (just for you Auntie Meg).
I talked with my endocrinologist doctor yesterday. I am not able to get in until June 5th. That's with him coming in special for me in the morning to see me. At first I was unhappy with this date but after talking with my doctor, feel ok with waiting that long...I guess. I also have a bit more info.
First, the type of cancer that I have is called papillary. My understanding is that this the the best of the 4 types you can have. I have taken an oath to stay off Google during this process. For those who don't know me (which I am amazed at all the messages from people I have never met, more on that in a second), I am what some may call a bit of a ummm...what's the right word....not quite a hypochondriac, but yeah maybe a bit of a hypochondriac. My running joke with my dad the past few days has been, "See I finally showed you!!!!" (referring to all the times I have told him I have cancer, any certain disease, and even one time anthrax poisoning, that's right anthrax). So in an effort to save a bit of my sanity I refuse to google anything related to thyroid cancer. BUT, I have received very encouraging information and statistics from various friends/family/strangers that assure me that this is the cancer to get if you are going to get a cancer. And the recovery rate is quite high. So I will cling to those words of encouragement and leave Google searches to the more sane :)
Next, the most likely path of treatment will be: first, we must make sure the cancer hasn't spread. If it hasn't, we will take out my poor little thyroid completely. Then, the doctor will determine if I need to take some radioactive iodine pills to precautionarly get rid of any lingering cells. Last, I will need to take thyroid medication, which I hear can be a quite a process to get right for your body.
OK, my hubs is giving me the, get off the computer we have to go look but first I need to take a moment to speak to the response I have received in the past 24 hours regarding this blog. Wow. I have had text message, voicemails, emails, and FB messages from so many of you and I cannot thank you enough. I mean it. Writing is therapeutic to me and I have always loved it. I forgot how much until I started typing the first sentence of my last post. And I have to say, the idea that people out there are reading about me, my experience, and my little family, well it's not enough to say that it means a lot to me. It is a comfort. It is reassuring. I soak up every word of support and encouragement from your responses. Keep em coming.
I am about to head out to dinner now with a large part of my Lockhart family. We will no doubt be wrangling, singing, distracting, and trying to prevent meltdowns from my 2 weary travelers (aka: my baby loves) for the next 3 hours, wish me luck. I will end today's post with this. Thank you. Thank you for reading, thank you for caring, thank you for reaching out to me. I cannot get enough of it :)
The beast once slept. We woke it up. Now it's time to slay this thing and reclaim by body as my own.
And next time, I promise to enlighten you on my new found disgust for Thyroid cells (just for you Auntie Meg).
Friday, May 25, 2012
Umm....what????
Whew. These last 22 hours have been nothing short of a whirlwind. Emotions, oh lordy the emotions. How did I get here? That's a question I have only asked once since I heard the news. After I hung up the phone with the doctor and stared at my husband's worried face the only words I could find were, "How did I get here?" And if I can help it, that will be the only time I say those words. Because the bottom line is it doesn't matter how or why this came about. I am here. I, Rachel Ann Reyes, have can...oh gosh...cancer. Cancer. Cancer. Yep, that's the word. 6 letters that changed everything.
Back in January, I lost 6-7 lbs out of nowhere. I have spent the last 4 months trying to gain even one of them back to no avail. I could spend the time to tell you the things I have done trying to figure out an answer, colonoscopy included and when I am in a more humorous mood I will enlighten you on that little journey, yet everything came back normal. Even the 3 blood test done on my thyroid were normal. 3 or so weeks after my last, "Everything is fine, probably just because you are nursing," answer I went to a new doctor. This doctor spent 45 mins (no joke) in the room with me reviewing everything. She was convinced I was going to end up with some kind of food allergy and ordered a blood work up that would rival any other. I mean I think I gave about 10 vials of blood that day. As I was wrapping up with her she said, "alright, plop up on the table and let me have a look at ya." She felt my thyroid and made a comment about how she thought it felt a bit large and she thought maybe she felt a nodule. I thought NOTHING of it and scheduled my ultrasound. The ultrasound revealed 3 nodules. This is about when I got nervous. You mean, there is actually something there??? I had gotten so used to the "everything is normal, you are fine" results I was taken aback when there was something there. I scheduled my biopsy. I sat in the biopsy room with a nurse, the PA, and some other guy with a microscope and joked around with the doctors, talked about John Mayer, and made fun of my husband, who came down on his break, about wearing a scrub shirt that was wayyy toooo short. In between conversation the PA assured me that 95% of these things are benign, and if I'm in the small percent that is actually something thyroid cancer is the most treatable and so on and so forth. The next day I went to my favorite little school to sub and spent the day teaching P.E. and wearing a band aid on my neck that only the Kindergartner's had enough curiosity to ask about. When I got in the car to head home I talked with the nurse over the phone about how my results were in and I needed to schedule an appt with my doctor for the next day to go over them. I couldn't, I told her, as I was leaving for California in a few short hours for a week and a half. Could the doctor please just tell me over the phone??? She told me she would ask and get back to me the next day. Let's fast forward here past the 10 hours in a mini van, screaming children, the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and the relentless sound of Toy Story 3 from the back of my head rest and get to our arrival in California. For it was no more then 35 minutes after I walked in the door to my grandparents house that I got what will forever be known as "the call." I excused myself to the back room and braced. Braced for the news, good or bad. Braced for the potential that the next 5 mins could change my life forever. "Hi, Rachel. Well as you probably guessed (side note: I HADN'T) since I am contacting you on your vacation, the results did not come back as we would have hoped." *staring at the wall* "Your results show that the nodule we biopsied tested positive for cancer." *sucking in air* "Now I know no one likes to hear the "c" word" *flat on the floor* "but I just want to encourage you that the kind you have is one of the more treatable cancers." *my husband enters, I stare into his eyes, he looks at the floor, he gets it* "Rachel?" "Uh huh." "How ya feeling?" "Uhhhhhh.....what? So wait...uhhh...what?" "I know this is hard.." "Alright, thank you, sure, umm, ok. So....what do we do now?" "That's exactly what I wanted to hear Rachel."
I can't tell you what happened next, I don't remember. I can tell you that I cried. I mean sobbed. Long and hard. My husband held me and tried with all his PJ might to not lose it. He cried though, he cried. And after I composed my self my two year old beauty ran into the room complaining about being sooooo hunners, and I crumbled. I don't know if I will ever be strong enough to talk about all the what if's that went through my head at this point. Staring at that child and then seeing the adorable little one year old that toddled in next....it was nothing short of unbearable. I spent the next 2 hours crumbling, composing, crumbling. Telling all my family and friends and hearing the gambant of reactions. Here are the reactions I will share. My dad. "What!!!!! What the heck does that mean?" (Really dad? I have thyroid cancer wasn't clear enough LOL) My brother. "Holy shit. (a few sentences later) Is that hereditary?" (If you know my brother this will be hilarious to you). Kelsey. "Innnttteerrresstinnngg." ( I love this one. It made me laugh out loud. I needed that non dramatic reaction at that moment).
Here's what I know now, almost one day in. This sucks. Ok, moving on. I WILL get through this. I am strong and damn stubborn. And most importantly, God will get me through this one way or another.Yes, God. Here's the deal. I love Jesus. A lot. I believe in him. I believe that him holding my hand through this journey is just as real as the hand of my amazing husband. I am aware that this might be where I lose some of you. I hope not. I hope you keep reading. I hope you keep up on me. I'm not saying that because I believe in God I will automatically be healed. I am only saying that because I believe in God, I will be OK. God didn't give me cancer, but he sure as hell will get me through it. And yes, I just cursed in the same sentence that I referenced God. I don't hide my feelings from Him, cursing and all. He knows I'm a little bit pissed about this whole thing. He loves me anyway. I say all this to let you know that my blog will talk about Jesus because it is my belief that he will be a very active part of this journey. I won't preach it nor judge any others that don't believe as I, not my style. I will just be honest and share what I experience every step of the way. And I believe that Jesus will show up. Big time. Oh and P.S., he loves the crap out of you.
So, what now? Well I have been feeling my neck every 5 minutes the past hour because it still hurts from the biopsy and I am convinced it feels hot and infectious-y (oh and yes I will also be making up words at times). I'm going to go wake my poor sleeping husband to remind me that this whole crazy mess will be ok and that everything is going to be fine. And then I am going to make him feel my neck for the 20th time to see if he thinks it feels all infectious-y. And then I am going to wait for my new doctor to call and tell me what we do next. And then I am going to kick this stupid cancer's butt.
Back in January, I lost 6-7 lbs out of nowhere. I have spent the last 4 months trying to gain even one of them back to no avail. I could spend the time to tell you the things I have done trying to figure out an answer, colonoscopy included and when I am in a more humorous mood I will enlighten you on that little journey, yet everything came back normal. Even the 3 blood test done on my thyroid were normal. 3 or so weeks after my last, "Everything is fine, probably just because you are nursing," answer I went to a new doctor. This doctor spent 45 mins (no joke) in the room with me reviewing everything. She was convinced I was going to end up with some kind of food allergy and ordered a blood work up that would rival any other. I mean I think I gave about 10 vials of blood that day. As I was wrapping up with her she said, "alright, plop up on the table and let me have a look at ya." She felt my thyroid and made a comment about how she thought it felt a bit large and she thought maybe she felt a nodule. I thought NOTHING of it and scheduled my ultrasound. The ultrasound revealed 3 nodules. This is about when I got nervous. You mean, there is actually something there??? I had gotten so used to the "everything is normal, you are fine" results I was taken aback when there was something there. I scheduled my biopsy. I sat in the biopsy room with a nurse, the PA, and some other guy with a microscope and joked around with the doctors, talked about John Mayer, and made fun of my husband, who came down on his break, about wearing a scrub shirt that was wayyy toooo short. In between conversation the PA assured me that 95% of these things are benign, and if I'm in the small percent that is actually something thyroid cancer is the most treatable and so on and so forth. The next day I went to my favorite little school to sub and spent the day teaching P.E. and wearing a band aid on my neck that only the Kindergartner's had enough curiosity to ask about. When I got in the car to head home I talked with the nurse over the phone about how my results were in and I needed to schedule an appt with my doctor for the next day to go over them. I couldn't, I told her, as I was leaving for California in a few short hours for a week and a half. Could the doctor please just tell me over the phone??? She told me she would ask and get back to me the next day. Let's fast forward here past the 10 hours in a mini van, screaming children, the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and the relentless sound of Toy Story 3 from the back of my head rest and get to our arrival in California. For it was no more then 35 minutes after I walked in the door to my grandparents house that I got what will forever be known as "the call." I excused myself to the back room and braced. Braced for the news, good or bad. Braced for the potential that the next 5 mins could change my life forever. "Hi, Rachel. Well as you probably guessed (side note: I HADN'T) since I am contacting you on your vacation, the results did not come back as we would have hoped." *staring at the wall* "Your results show that the nodule we biopsied tested positive for cancer." *sucking in air* "Now I know no one likes to hear the "c" word" *flat on the floor* "but I just want to encourage you that the kind you have is one of the more treatable cancers." *my husband enters, I stare into his eyes, he looks at the floor, he gets it* "Rachel?" "Uh huh." "How ya feeling?" "Uhhhhhh.....what? So wait...uhhh...what?" "I know this is hard.." "Alright, thank you, sure, umm, ok. So....what do we do now?" "That's exactly what I wanted to hear Rachel."
I can't tell you what happened next, I don't remember. I can tell you that I cried. I mean sobbed. Long and hard. My husband held me and tried with all his PJ might to not lose it. He cried though, he cried. And after I composed my self my two year old beauty ran into the room complaining about being sooooo hunners, and I crumbled. I don't know if I will ever be strong enough to talk about all the what if's that went through my head at this point. Staring at that child and then seeing the adorable little one year old that toddled in next....it was nothing short of unbearable. I spent the next 2 hours crumbling, composing, crumbling. Telling all my family and friends and hearing the gambant of reactions. Here are the reactions I will share. My dad. "What!!!!! What the heck does that mean?" (Really dad? I have thyroid cancer wasn't clear enough LOL) My brother. "Holy shit. (a few sentences later) Is that hereditary?" (If you know my brother this will be hilarious to you). Kelsey. "Innnttteerrresstinnngg." ( I love this one. It made me laugh out loud. I needed that non dramatic reaction at that moment).
Here's what I know now, almost one day in. This sucks. Ok, moving on. I WILL get through this. I am strong and damn stubborn. And most importantly, God will get me through this one way or another.Yes, God. Here's the deal. I love Jesus. A lot. I believe in him. I believe that him holding my hand through this journey is just as real as the hand of my amazing husband. I am aware that this might be where I lose some of you. I hope not. I hope you keep reading. I hope you keep up on me. I'm not saying that because I believe in God I will automatically be healed. I am only saying that because I believe in God, I will be OK. God didn't give me cancer, but he sure as hell will get me through it. And yes, I just cursed in the same sentence that I referenced God. I don't hide my feelings from Him, cursing and all. He knows I'm a little bit pissed about this whole thing. He loves me anyway. I say all this to let you know that my blog will talk about Jesus because it is my belief that he will be a very active part of this journey. I won't preach it nor judge any others that don't believe as I, not my style. I will just be honest and share what I experience every step of the way. And I believe that Jesus will show up. Big time. Oh and P.S., he loves the crap out of you.
So, what now? Well I have been feeling my neck every 5 minutes the past hour because it still hurts from the biopsy and I am convinced it feels hot and infectious-y (oh and yes I will also be making up words at times). I'm going to go wake my poor sleeping husband to remind me that this whole crazy mess will be ok and that everything is going to be fine. And then I am going to make him feel my neck for the 20th time to see if he thinks it feels all infectious-y. And then I am going to wait for my new doctor to call and tell me what we do next. And then I am going to kick this stupid cancer's butt.
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