My answers to: How, What & Why

Here's a pic of our new house.
Home sweet home!

I am excited to share that on Monday we finally moved into our new home. An amazing team of friends helped us with moving and unpacking and in just 5 days, the house is 95% unpacked. Really all we have left to do is unpack the clothes in our bedroom, hang stuff on the walls, and organize tools in the garage. I have been blown away by the kindness and teamwork that has taken place to get our family moved in and ready to take on our next ‘adventure’.

Thank you to the many hands that have blessed us in making this house our home!

In the past several weeks there have been 3 questions which have popped up repeatedly during conversations with different friends and family members. They are all good questions… so in case you are wondering here are my answers:

Question #1

How did you find the lump?

I found the lump myself while shaving my armpits. During a downward motion, I just felt something funny as the side of my hand brushed my breast. It was subtle, like the way you might notice a bug bite while rubbing your arm. I just happened to have a Mary Kay self-check showerhead hanger staring me in the face… so I checked myself out. Sure enough, there was something there.

So ladies, there are three things I want to encourage you to do…

1. Check yourself often enough to know your body and to be able to recognize when something is different. (Husbands, this can be a team effort. I know your wives will love that I am inviting you to help them. Hee hee.)
2. Shave your armpits. It could save your life, not to mention it is the American way.
3. Buy lots and lots of Mary Kay products from my sister-in-law Eileen and she will give you a self-check hanger. (Here’s her FaceBook address if you need a consultant:  http://www.facebook.com/eileen.eichran ) Okay, I know this is a shameless plug… but seriously, if you could see my 87-year-old grandma’s face and skin you would be a Mary Kay believer too. Anyways, the showerhead hanger that I got years ago served as a regular reminder to take 10 seconds to be proactive.

 ***Here's a link to the Mary Kay self-check shower hanger thingy:   http://content2.marykayintouch.com/Public/MKACF/Documents/Breast_Self_Exam_Card.pdf

Question #2

What are your feelings about losing your hair?

I am not sure how I feel. I have never really been into doing my hair and have worn it up in a simple ponytail most of my life. Eileen (same sister-in-law, also my hair stylist) is always trying to get me to do something exciting and new. Nevertheless, I just keep with the simple cut I have had for years. I imagine that losing my boring mane along with my eyebrows and all body hair is going to be more emotional that I expect. But, what can I do? My Oncologist said I should expect to lose my hair within the first two weeks of chemotherapy, which will start October 3^rd.

I will not be wearing a wig unless it is a silly costume wig to humor my children. I think I’ll be a scarf and ball cap girl. I read in my chemo book (which I have barely opened) that due to the pain on the scalp they recommend satin pillowcases. Sounds good to me.

Question #3

Why you?

This is a common question that we ask whenever we learn of hardship that a friend is suffering through. Fortunately, (or unfortunately), this is a question I have had to ask myself & find the answer to a number of times in the past several years.

When my brother Casey joined the U.S. Army in August 2001, I was proud and excited for him and his decision to follow his call to be a solider. Just two weeks into boot camp on 9/11 my excitement turned to fear when it became clear that he wouldn’t just be traveling and playing army, but would actually be going to war. Casey was a member of the 82^nd Airborne and served a tour in Afghanistan and a tour in Iraq. It was during his deployment that I started struggling with sleeping through the night. I would have crazy vivid dreams of awful things happening to him. I would lay in bed begging God for his safety and protection. I remember one particular time when the news reported a helicopter crash just outside of the base where he was stationed. I was terrified that something awful had happened to my baby bro. Casey called my parents and shared that he was safe… I was thrilled to know that he was okay. And then I felt a deep sense of conviction for my celebration. I realized that while my brother was safe, somewhere out there a sister was weeping because her brother had been killed. How dare I rejoice when someone else wept? I know that not everyone reading this will understand what I am trying to share… but basically my question of “why me/why my brother?” changed to “why not me/why not my brother?” It was during this change of mindset that I actually began to hand over my fears of his safety to God. In asking “why not” I could embrace that the future was not mine to control and well… somebody had to be the person to endure pain, how could I wish that upon someone else?

Also, when our 1^st daughter Madison was stillborn in March 2006 I was again faced with this question of “why me/us.” We had done everything ‘right’ to prepare a great life for a child and so desired to start a family. While drug addicts and teenagers seemed to have no problem having children, for an unknown reason our wanted and planned baby died. Even a full autopsy and genetic testing could not give us a reason as to why she passed. The mean stillbirth rate in the United States is approximately 1 in 115 births, which is roughly 26,000 stillbirths each year. How was it possible for our child to be the 1 in every 115 pregnancies that was born still? What a messed up odd to win. As I asked myself and God the question of “why me” over and over I eventually found that again the only really answer was “why not me”. If babies being born still is statistically bound to happen to someone, how could I think I was so impressive that it should not be me?

This line of thinking does not necessarily answer the question of ‘why me’, but it has made me self-aware of accepting that things sometimes just are what they are and sometimes they just happen. It also has made me realize that to blame God for my situation is giving myself way too much credit. I am sure God has bigger things to deal with than ways to thwart my life. In fact, I personally believe that sometimes these tragic events are actually part of the bigger picture of life’s purpose.

So here I am at 34 years of age. There is a 1 in 233 chance of being diagnosed with breast cancer between the ages of 30 and 39.

Why me?

I don’t know what to say except why not me?