Three years.
Well, I made it. Not totally in the safe zone
yet… but three fifths of the way to the 5 year mark of living cancer free is
pretty good. Right? (Of course my goal is to live a long full life cancer free,
but after 5 years the doctors say my chance of reoccurrence is near 0%.)
Three years ago this week I was told I had cancer. Three
years ago life stopped… and started new… and changed. Three years ago, God gave me new eyes.
This blog is full of my cancer story. It’s full of faith and
honesty and pain. And because of the reality of the pain of cancer, I haven’t
written for over a year. Many, many, many people have asked me to keep writing…
to write anything. But to be honest I needed a break. A break from enduring even
the thought of sickness. A break from the trap of thinking I was in the process
of dying. A break from the fears that
one starts to soak in when all they can think about is what will happen to
their children “when” (not “if”) they die. When you have faced the reality of mortality and fought so passioniatly with God for another chance at life and physical healing… it is difficult to pretend that moving forward with life is easy.
This year has been tough… and good. Good for my marriage and
family. But certainly difficult. Here’s the low down: After cancer, treatment
ended, Eric and I reevaluated our life and family plan and last year Eric
returned to school to finish his degree. He has just 1… ONE… class left until
he has completed a MASTERS degree from Hope International. Not bad for a high
school drop out!!!! (I’m so ridiculously proud of him.) Jesus truly changed his
life and he never looked back. Part of
that plan was that I would return to working full time and he would resign from
his position at BOSS (the Lord clearly led us in this) and look for part time
work while he completed school. I (we) realize that in the eyes of the world,
this plan looks crazy, but we both believed that God was directing our steps
and we LEPT in faith. The day before resigning Eric was approached by a friend
to see if we knew anyone that would want a 1 year interim, 10-12 hour a week
position at a little church as the youth guy. We said “yes… how about us” and a
week later the Lord had secured a 1-year part time job that worked perfectly
for our family and his school schedule. We
are just a few weeks away from that year commitment being over and today we
stand with arms high and hearts abandoned… waiting in anticipation for the next
step for our family. All I know is that every bill has been paid, our kids are
happy, our marriage is stronger now than it has ever been and I have complete peace that God will provide
the next path of this journey in His perfect timing.
Okay… everything sounds great from that description of our
life right???? Well, this year has been a hard journey too. As you can imagine,
our “plan” also came with a lot of stress and stretching of ourselves as
individuals and as a couple. Physically, mentally and emotionally. This plan would be intense for anybody, but
when you add the “mental journey” and fear of cancer returning to my stress load
one can easily imagine the increased anxiety that I found myself living
in. I only share at this depth of
personal info with you, because through my counseling and talking with other
cancer survivors I have found that my experience is actually very common. And
yet the outside world has no real understanding that after the last chemo dip
drops and the last radiation beam beams… a new journey has just started.
It’s the journey of the mind.
I cannot tell you why it took two and a half years for me to fully comprehend that I had cancer and was on the road to death. I can’t explain why
only last fall did I start to process that I missed 10 months of raising and
enjoying my children as babies. I can’t
make sense of why, only earlier this year did I actually comprehend that when I
was in the hospital THREE times, my organs were going septic and that only by
the grace of God was my life saved and health restored. I don’t understand the
human brain… but my counselor says that it is a form of PTSD. I survived the
war… now it was time to process what happened on the battlefield.
I’ll spare you the ugly details, but let me just share that
anxiety, depression, insomnia, anger and irritability became characteristics
that of who I was morphing into while I journeyed through this period of
mentally processing cancer. I was constantly thinking about all of the “what
if’s” should I find another lump. Additionally, God brought several friends
into my life that have been fighting cancer too… and my heart was so breaking
for them. Walking with friends when you understand the pain is taxing… heavy,
real, worth crying hard junk. While Eric certainly tried to kindly express/describe
my “new personality” to me… there were two defining moments when I realized
that anxiety and depression were getting the best of me. The first is when a
good friend just simply told me that I wasn’t joyful anymore. Hearing that from
someone other than my husband somehow was like a slap in the face. (A good
slap… like the kind in a comedy movie.) The second was when one of my cousins
drove a distance to bring me some clothes for Leah and I completely fell asleep
while she was visiting. Rude I know… but honestly, it just happened. You see I
had gone nearly 5 months without sleeping more than 4 consecutive hours in a
night due to anxiety. I was SOOOOOOOOOOOO tired and had gotten to a place where
practically any time I was slightly resting my body I naturally fell asleep. I remember
that night thinking “how can any person function well, joyfully and completely
when they haven’t slept in months.” Long
story short, I sought out a great psychologist that helped me out and attended
a few classes through Kaiser that taught tools for dealing with anxiety and my
emotions. If you’ve never done it, it
takes a lot of courage to go see someone for help… but man was it worth it.
Nobody told me about this part of the journey. I have spoken
to several friends that are also cancer survivors and realize now that this part
of the “cancer experience” can be as intense (yet totally different) as chemo.
Choosing to live in the present and not obsess about the past. Choosing to
enjoy precious moments with my kids instead of dwelling on how this could
possibly be the last time we ever ------------ (fill in the blank). But
something that I have come to learn about journeys is that nobody can truly
take YOU on a journey but YOUrself. No amount of protection from loved ones can
replace the road that must be traveled.
In one of my 1st blogs on this site I quoted the
classic adventure novel Going On A Bear Hunt and the lines “Can't go
over it. Can't go under it. Can't go around it. Got to go through it.” I
suppose this mental journey is an important part of going through this story
that is my life. It’s been a lonely journey. It’s a journey that has greatly
stretched my faith. It’s a journey that requires new eyes to see and grow into
the person that cancer forced me to become. And it’s a journey where I realize
that the input of others was not meant to wound, but to move me in the
direction of mental and physical health.
 |
| Our little family, Summer 2014. Capitola, CA |
You see… we just have to go through it. Whatever “it” is.
You can’t give up and there is no short cut.
Often our paths are not necessarily what we choose. And yet somehow, if
we search deep enough… one can find peace in believing that they are exactly
where God meant for them to be in this moment in time… and that idea builds
hope.
Hope in a future. Hope in a life worth living.
Much love and thanks,
Kelly
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Relay for Life Opening Ceremony Survivor Speech July 2014
Okay, I am in no stretch a professional speaker, but I
wanted to share the last speech that I made at the Rancho Murieta Relay for
Life kickoff ceremony this past July. Many of you have asked to hear what it is
that I share when I speak on behalf of the American Cancer Society. It is such
an honor to be invited back on multiple occasions to share my store and
encourage others in the fight. (Please excuse my nerves and stuttering
throughout this speech.)