The Final Lap

Just over 16 months ago, our lives were rocked with the terrifying diagnosis of my breast cancer.  The next year would include exhausting chemotherapy treatments, a grueling double-mastectomy, and several rounds of radiation.  As I laid out in detail through that time, it was a year filled with heartache and pain, pushing our whole family to the edge of our own strength over and over again.  And yet, through the suffering came glimpses of beauty that we had never before experienced, and we've been molded and refined by the Lord in ways we never even expected.
 
At times, I wondered if the journey would ever come to an end.  So much of the time spent fighting cancer is a blur in my memory.  From the various treatments to all of the pain medicine, we continue to joke about my "chemo brain!"  It almost feels like that year of my life sped along at full speed while I slept.  When it all started, I had a 9, 7, 5, and 2 year old.  And somehow, in the blink of an eye, those little people have grown into 10, 8, 6, and almost 4 year olds.  That may not seem like a lot, but it feels a bit like an eternity as I stare into their not so tiny faces and examine their not so little hands.  I feel in some ways like that time was taken from me, and yet by God's grace, it has given me such an urgency to savor our moments.  Sometimes I look at them and feel so overwhelmed and humbled that God chose me to be their mom...what a crazy, amazing, absolutely beautiful gift.

Since finishing up my Herceptin treatments in March, it's been BUSY at the Skoog home!  Getting back into full "mom-mode" has been trying and at times, just plain exhausting.  I still feel a bit slow in doing things, and I just don't seem to have the energy to push through like I used to.  And yet, God has been so good in giving our family grace with one another as we've worked our way back into a normal routine.  The kids and I finished up our 4th year of homeschooling a few weeks ago, and between baseball games, volleyball camps, and VBS, our schedule has been pretty full for the past couple of months!  Thanks to my parents and my sweet husband, I was able to sneak away this past weekend with some dear friends to The Gospel Coalition conference...what an AMAZING encouragement and a much needed break in the action around here :) 

We were hoping to finish up my final reconstruction surgery back in February or March.  On my agenda was a quick recovery and a summer FULL of all of the things that I missed out on last year!  The pool, Kings Island, day and weekend trips, and training for my first race back were just a few of the many things on my list.  But alas, God had other plans to refine me just a little bit more :)  I developed an infection back in January/February that my plastic surgeon couldn't seem to get under control.  After several rounds of antibiotics, she determined that the best plan of action was to schedule an "extra" surgery in order to repair the quickly deteriorating skin.  This procedure was completed on March 29th, pushing my final surgery back a few months and into my anticipated summer of fun.  I must say...as impatient of a girl as I've always been, cancer has taught me that my timetable really doesn't matter at all in the equation.  Whatever control I thought I had before was really just an illusion :)

But FINALLY...the day has come!  Tomorrow morning is what will hopefully be my final surgery.  The final stop of the journey.  I've waited so long to be able to say that cancer is really behind me.  There was always another step, another hurdle, another hoop to jump through.  And although I know that I will somewhat continue to have the shadow of cancer following me to my appointments every 3 months for a while, my treatments and procedures will be complete.  Oh, how good that will feel!!!

And so I ask you again, will you pray for me?  Would you pray that this surgery goes smoothly, that there would be no complications, and that I would recover quickly?  The week after surgery tends to be a bit discouraging with all of the pain medicine and limited mobility.  Please pray for patience for our children as they continue to be troopers through all of this.  Pray for Bryan as he faithfully works hard for our family and helps me with recovery, all without complaint.  And finally, pray that God will continue to be glorified through us as we seek to honor Him and as we are hopefully able to close this chapter in our lives for good!

Herceptin's Bittersweet Goodbye

March 9, 2015 marked a day that will be etched in my mind forever.  The week before had been a whirlwind of preparations for this day...MRI's, a surgery to place a port in my chest, a bone scan, a chest/abdomen CT scan, consults with doctors, and a trip with my girls to purchase a wig for the day my hair began to fall out.  Notebook and pen in hand, I had met with my oncology nurse friend in order to prepare for the side effects that would begin on this day.  My longtime childhood friends came to visit and encourage me.  Bryan and I sat in our sweet friends' living room while our troops prepared us for battle by praying over us...countless friends and family who lovingly brought us before the throne of God, pleading for grace to be given for the journey.  Food was shared, tears were poured out, cards were penned with beautiful words to encourage and prepare us.  Selfless women in my life surprised me by cleaning EVERY square inch of our home in order to keep germs at bay for my soon-to-be fragile immune system.  I packed a trendy little bag given to me by friends and filled it with magazines, mints, Jolly Ranchers (both of which were supposed to help with the terrible tastes I would experience), and a new blanket made especially for this day by my dear neighbor.  Bryan and I, in our limited foreknowledge of the road before us, prayed for the strength to go to war.

The morning of March 9th, I picked out clothes that would allow the nurses easy access to the port in my chest.  Quickly, I learned that camisoles with zip-up sweatshirts and yoga pants would become the standard attire for these events :)  I was nervous, understanding that the "healthiness" that my body seemed to be experiencing would give way to a sickness I had never known.  Would the chemo hurt as it entered my body?  How long would it take to begin to feel the ravages of these necessary, yet harsh medications?  I appled lydocaine cream to my port, covering the site with a small piece of Press-and-Seal wrap, hoping to ease the discomfort of the needle they would use while accessing it.  Looking back, I really could not have adequately prepared for what was coming, no matter how hard I tried.  Experience would be the only truly effective teacher.

After seeing Dr. Jones, my oncologist, Bryan, my mom, and I went next door to the Good Sam infusion center.  Vanessa, Renee, and Tina, who would be the valiant nurses that would administer my chemo through the next year of my life, greeted me and led me to a grey reclining chair in the back corner of the room.  Several other patients were scattered throughout the small, yet bright and airy room, most of them sitting next to loved ones who came to walk through the dreadfulness with them.  Following a brief explanation of what my 6-7 hour regimen would entail (5-6 hours from here on out), they brought me warm blankets and made me comfortable.  Although I didn't realize it at the time, these nurses were teaching me the dance that is chemo, one in which I would soon learn the steps of so well.  And as terrible as it would quickly become, there was a certain predictability to its rhythm that I would grow to appreciate.

After the premeds were administered, along with my first chemo drug, the nurses began running my second chemo drug, Herceptin.  This rockstar part of my regimen would be a crucial weapon in my fight against the HER2 positive status of my cancer.  My mom had left to pick up our kids, and Bryan and I were resting comfortably, playing cards.  Very quickly, however, something seemed off to me.  I was experiencing terrible cramping and nausea, which I assumed was attributed to the chemo (although I had heard that didn't typically begin until a couple of days later).  My body was also shaking, as if experiencing severe chills.  The nurses were aware and were keeping an eye on me, yet I was feeling discouraged.  Was my body weak and unable to handle the chemo?  Was this normal?  Did I need to get tougher?  All of a sudden, something seemed to flow from my abdomen up through my chest, into my esophagus, and up to my throat.  I coudn't breathe.  As in, I really couldn't get a breath.  It felt like I was choking.  Vanessa, Renee, and Tina immediately came to my side, and I just remember grabbing Vanessa's arm asking her to please help me.  They turned off the Herceptin (which was almost finished), gave me two steriod injections, and called for Dr. Jones.  I was terrified.

Quickly, they had the situation under control, and I felt so much better.  The cramping, nausea, and chills were gone, and I could breathe again.  However, Dr. Jones and the nurses made the unilateral decision to stop treatment for the day.  Apparently, I had experienced a severe allergic reaction to the Herceptin.  I cried and pleaded with them to finish the remaining drugs because I knew that my body needed them.  It was the first of many times that my doctor made a decision that showed the depth of his knoweldge and the strength of his conviction to fight this cancer for me.

Returning the next day, with my body well-rested and by God's grace, we were able to finish the remaining drugs in my regimen.  And three weeks later, Dr. Jones figured out a way to still administer Herceptin, which ended up ultimately being the heavy lifter that took out my cancer.  I would visit the infusion center well over 20 times over the next year, receiving 6 full chemo treatments (4 drugs each time), 12 Herceptin only infusions, and several other infusions of fluid, Potassium, and Magnesium.  3 weeks is the most time that has passed between an infusion, and as difficult as that has been to fit into our busy lives, it's become a dance I can now do in my sleep.  Dr. Jones, the nurses, the other patients who have sat beside me through this war, have all played a role in literally saving my life.

So saying that today, my very LAST Herceptin infusion, was bittersweet feels like an understatement.  Obviously, it is a GOOD day when you realize that there will be no more port accesses, no more sleepiness from the infusions (Herceptin was relatively side-effects-free), no more child-care to arrange and two hour blocks to schedule in every 3 weeks, no more in-your-face reminders that you are/were a cancer patient.  It marks the end of the course of treatment that Dr. Jones set out to complete for me back in March 2015, and it worked!!

Yet, it's the dance of life I've also come to know, and there is some strange comfort in that.  Knowing that they were still treating the beast that had taken up residence in my body provided some security, and my doctor acknowledged that the safety net is now being removed.  I will continue to see Dr. Jones every 6 months for the next 5+ years (along with my surgeon, probably staggered every 6 months with him), yet the indicator of a cancer recurrence will now somewhat rest on me.  There will be no scans to complete because I had a double mastectomy.  And since there is no early detection for metastatic breast cancer, it's not effective to do any other scans until symptoms present themselves.  Hopefully that will never EVER become a reality for me, but I now have to monitor and report any symptom that lasts longer than a couple of weeks.  And without Herceptin to guard me, that feels like a sobering thought.

Those thoughts woke me around 3:00 a.m. last night, and desperately tried to suck the joy right out of my heart.  Here were some of my responses this morning in my prayer journal...

I know that there is now a heaviness in our lives that will likely remain, one that hopefully will not steal our joy or hover over us causing fear.  Yet this part of us all will be marked.  This makes me sad, particularly for my precious husband and children, yet you KNOW it is ultimately for their good and your glory that they walk forward with this burden.  Their wife and mom have had cancer.  Cancer is a known enemy...a destroyer.  Yet we do NOT know that it will ever return again!  For now, you have given us victory, and I pray we will rejoice and cultivate happy hearts in that.  Being that my last treatment is today, it feels like I'm walking in to the abyss of the unknown from here.  My doctors will have me "on surveillance," so they say.  They will monitor my body and seek to keep this beast away.  But my body will now be on its own to fight.  Please make it strong, oh God.

But more than anything, please quiet my heart before you.  You created the universe.  You've put kings and rulers into power and removed them.  You told the oceans where to stop and placed each star in its proper location.  And you created me.  Each organ of my body and every cell that resides in me is also under the mighty authority of YOU.  You knew cancer was there before I did.  You wrote all my days in your book and you know when I will breathe my last.  You know that about all of us.  Father, may I find rest in knowing that I don't have the power to control my cells, but you do.  And I can trust you will work all things together for our good and your glory.

So, that's where we must go from here!  Walking each step, living each day with joy, knowing that He is in control.  Taking our thoughts captive (sometimes moment by moment), and cultivating happy hearts in the victory that God has provided.  And ultimately, praising Him that the true victory has already been accomplished through Christ's death and resurrection and the eternity of everlasting joy that awaits those who put their trust in Him.

As Renee and Vanessa were getting ready to start my Herceptin today, they began the drill that they complete each and every time they administer a drug.  They scan my bracelet and ask me to give them my name and date of birth.  Every time.  Even for Tylenol :)  We always laugh, especially when I'm in the middle of a chemo-induced nap and have to wake up to walk through the drill.  Today, as Renee got ready to ask me my name, it hit me.  This would be the last time I would give these answers.  I would walk out of that room after the infusion, and hopefully never be back.  The emotion of it all overwhelmed me, and I couldn't get the words out.  I always say that certain things that I would assume would be so difficult end up easier, and it's the little things that seem to knock me off my feet.  Today was one such moment.  I couldn't get my name and date of birth out because I was choking on tears.  I looked around at that room...the room where I dove into the throes of cancer and have come out on the other side.  The room where multiple people accompanied me to my treatments, resulting in some of the sweetest conversations I've ever had.  The room where I watched others suffer and, hopefully, learned a whole new level of compassion.  We all had a good few minutes to take in all of the heartache, and yet all of the beauty, and just cry.

 

  
  

The Year Mark...

Oh, if I could only put into words the emotions that overwelm me as I begin this post.  One year.  One year ago today, the dreaded call came in from my surgeon.  The confirmation we knew was coming when the phone rang.  The day it snowed, and I drank coffee and read my Bible while the kids laughed and played outside.  As foggy as 2015 was for me, I remember every detail of this day last year.  In fact, this entire week has ushered in a flood of memories marking my "anniversary" with this unwelcomed guest in my life.

On Wednesday, as I was writing down the kids assignments for the day, I remembered how I had done the very same thing on this day the previous year.  I quickly rummaged through the stack of binders and notebooks in the basement from last year, and flipped to February 17th, 2015.  We were wrapping up early that day because I had an appointment to get to, so the school list was relatively short.  An annoying interuption to a busy week.  As I glanced to the right hand side of the notebook, I realized that there were no assignments for February 18th, 19th, or 20th.  Blank page after blank page stared at me--a haunting reminder of the new tasks our family would be given through those coming days.  February 17th...a day that would change our world forever.

I went through the chronology of those early days in my first entry (My Cancer Story), so I won't go through all of the details again.  But there are snapshots that remain so fresh in my mind that they feel like they occurred yesterday.  My Dad making Bryan take the afternoon off from work so that he could take me to my appointment (which I thought was silly, since it was just going to be a routine thing :).  The sweet young woman who performed my mammogram sharing stories about her little girl as she tried to make me feel comfortable.  Ingrid, the ultrasound tech with the Russian accent, telling me that she'd be right back, leaving me alone to stare inquisitively at the pictures for the next 20 minutes.  The young radiologist with her wispy curls and tender smile trying her best to offer Bryan and I words of comfort as she explained details on her computer screen...the beast she knew would inevitably change the direction of our lives from that moment forward.

Bryan and I wept in the parking lot and all the way home.  My mom had our kids; so we returned to my parents' house, where he picked them up so that I could talk to my mom.  How?  How do you tell your mom that the doctor thinks you have cancer?  Like me, she assumed this would all be routine, so it broke my heart to burst her bubble.  More tears freely flowed between us, but there was a new strength that I witnessed that day in my mom...a steady confidence in her Savior that has encouraged me countless times throughout this journey.  My mom trusted Jesus to provide grace for the days ahead, and she gently laid her plans for her child in the hands of a completely trustworthy God.

Bryan and I took the kids to Chick-Fil-A that night.  I yearned to do something normal with them.  So we ate chicken nuggets, and waffle fries, and I wiped away tears the entire time.  I kept looking around at all of the busy people around us, wondering if life would ever truly feel normal again.  I examined my children's faces in a new way that night, as I contemplated how life would change for them.  I loved them so much and didn't want to see them hurt.  Bryan and I kept looking at each other, both of us trying not to break down in the middle of one of our favorite restaurants.   

The next day, February 18th, was brutally cold with snow and ice galore.  My kids felt that a snow day was in order, and I couldn't refuse.  Once the surgeon viewed my scans, she wanted to see me immediately, so our family began the drill we would run through countless times over the next several months...assign/recruit a driver for me, scramble quickly to find childcare for our four young ones, kiss those four little people goodbye for a bit, and clear our minds on the way so that we were ready to process "doctor speak."  

My surgeon performed a surgical biopsy in the office, which as I learned later from other surgeons, is typically done in a more surgical setting under some kind of anesthesia.  Anxious to get the procedure done, and with a military background, she utlized her resources the best she could (including having her office administrator assist with the biopsy).  We laugh now, but she had to ask poor Bryan to sit down because he nearly passed out at the sight of everything!  Let's just say, I probably would have asked for a little sedation had I known the details of that procedure :)  Looking back, I'm grateful.  She knew it was bad, and she didn't want to wait another day for me to return.

Then we waited.  Oh, how we learned to wait through this past year!  Wednesday until Saturday, we tried to resume "normal" life as we awaited the news.  The radiologist and surgeon had both made it clear it was LIKELY cancer, but I supposed there was a part of us that held out hope that everyone was wrong.  We cried and prayed a lot together during that week.  Shane and Shane, a Christian singing duo that I had liked a lot before, became my new best friends through the long, sleepless nights.  The God who created the universe, and yet knit each tiny cell in my body together, met me in each moment of my grief, giving me comfort like I had never experienced before.  I clung to Romans 8:28, among countless other verses...

  

     "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose."

If I had cancer, it would not be "good."  However, I knew I could trust my God to work all things FOR my good and His glory.  Joy in pain, beauty in ashes, light out of darkness...those things became our way of life through the next year.  And even through these painful memories, we know that not a step of it was on our own apart from a loving God.

The call on that Saturday, February 21st was actually a bit unclimactic for us, but a necessary step to get the ball rolling.  My surgeon called from her daughter's volleyball tournament, so I could hardly hear her.  Yes, cancer.  Lymph nodes affected.  Stage 2 (would later be changed to Stage 3).  Waiting on type...will know more next week and will meet then.  I can't remember if we cried?  We were ready to go.  We called our families (who were also prepared for the news).  We called our friends to get the prayer chain started.  We made grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids and brought them in from the snow to have a "special family lunch," where we revealed the news to them in gentle language they could understand.  Our family prepared for battle together.

A year later, it seems like a lifetime ago, and yet like yesterday at the very same time.  Our world has been turned upside down, and at times, has seemed to have shaken the life right out of us.  We have experienced more joy and pain simulatenously than we ever thought possible, but the God who has held us through it all has remained constant.  One of the verses that the kids and I memorized before I had cancer was Psalm 62:5-7...

"For God alone, Oh my soul, wait in silence,

for my hope is from Him.

He only is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

On God rests my salvation and my glory; 

my mighty rock, my refuge is God.

What comfort it has been to have Him be our rock and our fortress.  We knew this verse before, but we feel like we KNOW it now.

There have been different phases of this journey for us...days during chemo where all I could do was record my thoughts from my bed and rest, others like the past couple of months where "normal life" has kept us so busy that I've had very little time to process anything.  I'm so grateful to be back on a pretty normal routine again, living the life of a busy mom!  The past couple of weeks have caused me to be much more contemplative again as I look back on how much has changed in a year.  

As I prepare for ONE more Herceptin treatment (yes, only ONE MORE!!!) on March 1st, there is much emotion going on inside of me (which tends to mean, I need to write :).  There is an abundance of joy one minute, followed by a wave of fear for the future the next.  I'm learning much about taking my thoughts captive to Christ right away so that those fears don't overwhelm me.

Thank you so much for your continued prayers for my family through all of our days with this!  Our family, friends, and sweet individuals we don't even know have been instruments in the hand of God to encourage us and to show us the grace of our Savior.  You have most certainly been used by Him for His glory in our lives!  It has been a long and difficult road; and although my treatments are wrapping up, we would still covet your prayers for my body to remain healthy, and for our hearts to remain steadfast.

A New Normal...

Wow...I can't believe it's been 6 weeks since my last blog post!!  For those of you following our story, I apologize for the hiatus!  In many ways, the past 6 weeks have been wonderfully exciting as I've contemplated what it means to see life, particularly the holidays, through fresh eyes.  There is joy, wonder, and glorious gifts to experience each and every day!

In another sense, these past few weeks have presented their difficulties, many of which have kept me from taking the time and energy to sit and record my thoughts.  Like every stage of this journey, God has to teach me how to walk moment by moment in light of who He is.  I honestly don't know what moving through the stages of cancer looks like, and each person's experience with it is different.  I am in a constant state of dependence on a God who already knows the final outcome and has secured my salvation for all time.  That, I know, and that I have to cling to, even when it's one moment at a time.

Part of my struggle is the daily grind of life calling me to step up again, and I don't always feel ready for the task.  My energy level still isn't fully recovered, and the doctors say that will just take time.  And, it's frankly just not natural for me to wake up joyful and ready to experience the beauty of a new day.  In a fallen world, there is tension and struggle, whether that's cancer or frustration with children or the mundane tasks that characterize our particular station in life.  Like Lamentations 3:22-23 reminds us, "His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning."  However, I must fight for that joy on a daily basis, not letting the things of this world weight too heavy on my heart.

After radiation wrapped up (rather abruptly), our world seemed to shift into crazy mode...in like a get prepping for the holidays, move forward with school, resume cooking meals, and try to remember how to take care of 4 kiddos on my own again kind of way.  And through all of the "normal" duties that were resuming, I felt like I somehow needed to reflect a bit on what in the world just happened to the past 10 months of my life!

As I said earlier, it's just a new stage in the cancer journey.  After the initial shock, after the chemotherapy, the surgery, and the radiation, after the big decisions have been made...where do I go from here?  How do I live this new normal that just doesn't feel very normal?  Am I done with cancer?  I still have some treatments left and even ended up in the hospital with chest pains a couple of weeks ago (no worries...everything checked out fine :).  Am I "cancer-free?"  What do I say now?  Do I still have something to say?  How do I adequately thank people for the unimaginable acts of service we've received?  What about the fears that rush upon me as I ponder the risk of recurrence?  I wrote these words in my journal this morning that I feel represent some of this struggle...

"Radiation ended, and I lost my words.  How do I finish this part of the race well?  Where do I go from here?  How do I live well in light of all we've been through and learned?  It seems like I've quit stepping by faith and have, instead, insisted on a peek at the end.  I feel a sense of pressure to "wrap up" this journey.  Father God, help me to remember your faithfulness to walk the next step with me.  Help me to see that you've never called me to get it all right, but to walk each day in the knowledge of who you are.  You WILL be faithful to complete the work you've begun in me." 

My mom and I went to my Herceptin appointment today, and I had my scheduled meeting with Dr. Jones, my oncologist, as well.  God perfectly ordained that conversation with him today, because it was EXACTLY what I needed.  One of my struggles has been this whole concept of "cancer-free," versus "no evidence of disease."  My surgeon (and other doctors) have told me that because of the chance of microscopic cells that may still be roaming my body, I really can't call myself cancer-free.  The chemo and surgery treatments were successful, but they cannot determine if there are smaller amounts of cancer lurking around that just simply wouldn't show up on a scan.  Yet.  That's a hard reality to face, and it's felt like I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As always, my oncologist was a positive breath of fresh air for my soul today.  Although he acknowledged that not all doctors would agree with him, he boldly declared that he would call me "cancer-free!"  His paraphrased words were, "Are we worried about a recurrence, absolutely.  But...right now, the evidence we have is that you are cancer-free!!  Call it what it is, right now.  You can't control what's next, but none of us can.  You may never face cancer again, so why spend time worrying that it "might" be there.  You live, right now, cancer-free."  His goal is to cure my body of this dreadful disease, and he will do everything within his power to accomplish that.  I just needed that, and praise God that he would give me a doctor that would give me those fighting words today.

It's not that I've been dwelling on the negative, but those above questions I listed are real.  If you are praying for me, pray that God would lead my every step as I seek to continue to follow Him through this next stage.  Pray that He would continue to give me opportunities to glorify Him and that I would fully trust in His plans for my life.  And finally, pray that Jesus would truly be enough...that He would not be my consolation prize, but would be my everything.  May I view all things in the light of His glory and grace, especially through this Christmas season.

I was so sad that the Thanksgiving holiday passed and I wasn't able to process my thoughts here!  Part of it was that I "may" have overdone it with the Thanksgiving food preparations (and that all of those preparations were done with a certain 3 year old that thinks that cracking eggs and "helping" is awesome :)  I was WORN out!!  But part of it is that I truly have no idea of how to fully express my thankfulness adequately.  My heart overflows with gratefulness, and I just couldn't seem to get my thoughts together!  How silly, really :)  This picture speaks for itself...

Photo by Leah Robbins Photography

Thank you all, as well, for your ceaseless prayers and support for myself and my whole family.  God has used you in a mighty way in our lives to show His goodness and His great care for us through the most difficult of times.  We are so grateful that countless of you have allowed yourselves to be instruments in the Father's hand to bring Him glory.  What a gift you've given and continue to give us.

Here are some of the other fall pictures that haven't made it up here yet!!  Even in the midst of fatigue and questions, God has been so very good to our family...

Bryan and I have started the tradition of taking the birthday kid out to celebrate his/her birthday with JUST Mom and Dad!!  It was Landon's turn at the end of October :)  Skyline and the Web for him!

The master carver...

Hailey's volleyball team went undefeated for the season and won the end of the season tournament.  She LOVED every minute!

My sweet Dad turned 60 this year, so it was only natural to go out for his favorite food...cheesecake at the new Cheesecake Factory.  This man brings such joy and delight to my life.

Our friend (and our kids' Sunday School teacher) brough us to a Chris Tomlin concert.  It was SOOOO good!!  Thanks, Miss Vicki :)

My dear mother-in-law and sister-in-law at the Skoog Family Thanksgiving.  It was wonderful to celebrate with them (except for the part when our 6 year old threw up all over their entire living room...it made it not only wonderful, but "exciting" :)

Hailey with her beloved cousin, Christy Ann.  These two have so much fun together!!

Thanksgiving with the Robbins family!  Adults, and...

the kids!!  It's never very a dull moment at that table ;)

My grandparents made the trip down to Cincinnati for Thanksgiving.  Love when they're able to come!

The annual Christmas tree hunt!  This year, it was in the rain :)

My friend, Kate, (who is always so much more creative and crafty than me) had the kids over to make gingerbread houses.  It was totally not a disaster!!

We spent the day with our dear friends, the Zurchers.  We started with the Lebanon Christmas Horse Parade and ended with a pretty amazing party downtown, complete with fireworks.  We love them and had such a fun, Christmasy time :)

SURPRISE :)

Well, my plan was to wrap up radiation on Wednesday with a big "celebration!"  I was doing my countdown dance, and my dad had even carved out time for these last 3 mornings to drive me across town to my treatment.  When I arrived today, the radiation therapist greeted me with a huge smile and asked if I was ready for my graduation.  I was a bit confused.  My doctor had told me that I was scheduled for 5 weeks or 25 treatments, which would have made Wednesday my last day.  And although I was CERTAINLY welcoming an early wrap-up, I was pretty sure there was a mistake.  However, they said that my schedule in the computer had me finishing today at 23 treatments, and that I was all done!

I was still a tiny bit skeptical, wanting to make sure that I did in fact receive all of the necessary treatments that my doctor had ordered.  So I called my radiation oncologist this afternoon, and low and behold, she had put in my plan for 23 treatments.  I'm still not positive of the reasoning for 4 1/2 weeks, rather than 5, but I'm SUPER excited to have now completed radiation!!!!  It was a little unclimactic, but it was a very welcomed surprise :)

So another milestone is complete in this cancer journey!!  I will meet with my radiation oncologist again for a follow-up, and we will discuss the next steps for reconstruction surgery with my plastic surgeon soon.  From what we were told before radiation, my body needed to be fully healed from that step before surgery could be performed, which should be about 3-6 months down the road.  Assuming my body continues to recover well from the combination of expanders and radiation, that surgery should be fairly uneventful.  There will be some recovery involved, but it should be nothing at all like the recovery from the first surgery (praise the Lord!!).

I will also continue my Herceptin infusions every three weeks for the next 5-6 months (tomorrow is my next infusion).  Since I'm still seeing my oncologist through that time, I'm not sure what the follow up care will look like after that.  I believe I will continue to see my surgeon at various intervals and will be under the care of my oncologist for the next several years.  I'm so grateful for wonderful doctors who have cared for me well up through this point, and I am confident will continue to do so.

There is much joy at this point among our family and friends, and we are so grateful to be at this point in the journey!  God has been so good throughout each phase of treatment, even on the darkest of days.  We've been stretched, molded, humbled, and at times, completely spent in suffocating exhaustion.  And yet...

"...this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope.  The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:21-23)

We never walk this road alone.  God is just as present in the glorious days of sunshine as He is in the most dreadful of storms, and all of those things work together for the good of those who love Him.  I realize more than ever that I am not promised anything in this life.  Not success or money, not a perfect home with a perfect family, not comfort and ease and a beautiful vacation from difficulty waiting around every corner.  The Bible says that I'm not even promised tomorrow.  We live in a fallen and broken world with tragedies, heartache, and things like cancer.  But in Christ, I am promised EVERYTHING that I need in this life and for eternity.  His grace sustains me, His joy knows no bounds, and His peace cannot compare to anything else in our human understanding.  He truly is enough, and I pray that I will continue to cling to the truths that I've learned, even when the dark clouds of life return.

Our family's next step is to try to schedule a little getaway!!  We could use some uninterrupted time together, and I'm finally feeling good enough to enjoy it :)

Seasons Change

For those of you that know me well, you know that the fall is my ABSOLUTE favorite time of year :)  Maybe it's that my birthday falls in October, bringing with it that giddy feeling that the holidays are just around the corner.  Perhaps it's the reminder of the smell of burning leaves out in the country fields of my little hometown in Indiana.  The warm autumn sun that sparkles in the bright blue sky fades into the crisp, cold and grey clouds of November.  It's as if all the world goes down for a nice, long nap, accompanied by blankets, football games, sweaters, and hot chocolate.  The changing of the seasons is such a reminder of God's faithfulness to bring it about each and every year.

My days of radiation are coming to an end...only 5 more treatments!!!  Other than my skin having some burning issues from the radiation beams and my body feeling more of the pressing fatigue, the treatments are going very well.  I noticed after the first couple of weeks that by the end of the day, I was becoming more exhausted.  Now it's just earlier in the day that the fatigue is hitting.  I'm doing a lot as well, which I'm sure contributes to it.  However, there seem to be no complications with my tissue expanders, and my left arm is showing no signs of lymphodema.  I'm so grateful that even with these treatments, I'm able to enjoy so much of normal life again!

Really, we've just been soaking in the days of fall around here, and it's been glorious :)  School is going well for the kids, and we're busy.  A.J.'s football and Hailey's volleyball seasons will wrap up next week, and it will be good to have more time to settle in together at home as the weather gets cold.  We've enjoyed apple picking; and a couple of weeks ago, we visited our very favorite farm, Young's Dairy.  The tradition began 13 years ago when Bryan and I were just a couple of college kids, and we long for the cool October Saturdays to arrive so that we can pick pumpkins and enjoy the delicious ice cream from the dairy farm.  We love it!!

We also enjoyed our church's Missions Conference this past weekend, along with a fantastic Andrew Peterson concert!  Our church supports over 50 missionaries that are bringing the gospel to areas all over the world, and it was such an inspiration to hear several of their stories of the mission field.  I love that our church has such a huge desire to bring the beautiful hope of Christ to even the darkest of nations.  And Andrew Peterson just added to the encouragement of the weekend...his music is like balm to the weariest of souls...  

Today was our little guy, Landon's 6th birthday!!  Oh, how I love this kid so much.  A great illustration for his energy level...he was swinging at the park today (very, very high, I might add!) and decided at the peak of his swing to jump.  Instead of landing on his feet, he just curled up and hit the ground in a little clump.  It was UGLY, and I was pretty sure we'd be heading for the hospital.  Landon, however, seemed basically unfazed and went on to the next challenge, telling me that he actually "meant to do that."  He's full throttle all day long, and yet his heart is beautifully sensitive as well.  He gets "joy" so easily, and he teaches me what it means to swim in the deep end of life.  We went to the park today to meet up with his cousins and some buddies, and it was a really great day!!

Thank you, as always, for continuing to love us through the ups and downs of this journey.  These are good days, and I'm delighted to be feeling so much better!  Part of that joy is fueled by the gentle reminder that all has not been well.  Routines are resuming, yet it's a new normal we're adjusting to now.  Some of that is difficult, although much is welcomed.  Our eyes are wider to even the smallest details of life, and our hands are more open to God's sovereignty in those details.  We've been shaped and molded in countless ways, many that we probably don't even recognize at the moment.  Yet, through it all, God has been so very faithful.  I long to breathe deep these days that feel so much more precious in light of our suffering.  You can pray that we continue to maintain an eternal perspective and that my heart, as always, remains anchored in the One who provides joy abundant.  

  

The Dance of Life...

Yikes...I didn't realize it had been another really long stretch since my last post!!  Daily life has certainly picked up the pace, and aside from late at night, I'm finding it difficult to sneak away to write as often.  Even though that's been a bit disappointing for me, it also means that I'm busy living life again!!

Since radiation began a couple of weeks ago, I've made HUGE progress in terms of my pain.  In fact, aside from some discomfort here and there, I'm virtually pain free!  It took a good 7-8 weeks post surgery to get there, but I'm so grateful to finally be feeling comfortable again.  It certainly gave me a new perspective for people that live with chronic pain :(

After 11 radiation treatments, I'm grateful to report that that phase of the journey is also going well!  These daily appointments do require me to drive to a location about 30 minutes away early in the morning.  However, I'm able to see the sun rise each day, I have about an hour of alone time in the car before my day gets crazy (my dad actually drove me today, which was great time to visit as well!), and I typically arrive back home just as the kids are finishing breakfast.  The radiation team is so kind, and I actually look forward to seeing the other patients that are also there each day receiving treatments.  My radiation oncologist will be administering 25 total treatments, so I'm almost halfway there!  From what I understand, fatigue tends to set in quite heavily as the treatments progress, so we'll see how that goes.  I have noticed that I've needed a nap in the afternoon for the past few days; but I'm still, overall, feeling pretty good!

Life has been moving back towards normalcy, yet as I've mentioned before, it really doesn't look the same.  There is a slower pace, even in the midst of our busy schedule.  School lessons, sports practices/games, appointments...those things are all occurring these days, yet my hands are so much more open to God's plans for us.  I find myself grasping less and less to my checklists and schedules.  The kids and I are spending LOTS of time reading together, baking yummy treats, and drinking apple cider.  We're trying to "rejoice" in the day that God has provided, and I'm so much more likely to do the things that I used to put off for another day.  All of us are learning that joy is a choice, and we are actually allowed to choose that, no matter how we may feel about things going on around us.

My sweet little Eli...he can be a cranky monster or the most precious thing you've ever seen (I've just described all 3 year olds :).  He's been so excited that mommy can hold him again and keeps asking me if I'm all better now.  I can't believe how much he's grown in the past year, and we have my mom and sister to thank for keeping him in line and helping to guide his little heart when I was too sick and weak to do so.

Oh, how much I love this amazing man!!  We had another date to the infusion center this week to get my Herceptin infusion.  As difficult as chemo was, this infusion is easy with little to no side effects!  It's been wonderful to have Bryan at so many of these appointments with me, and I'm certain these will be beautiful memories in our minds one day.

We were able to visit with one of Bryan's grandmas last Sunday.  Her health is declining, yet her 90- year old spirit is still so strong.  We are praying that God gives her many more precious days with her family.

My birthday was last week, and my amazing family made it so very special.  Bryan bought me 2 new outfits and arranged for a babysitter to come so that we could go out to dinner.  It was WONDERFUL!!  We also all went out to Red Robin as a family to celebrate.  Sweet, sweet times...

My dear friend, Emily, and I got our kids together as well for a little birthday lunch.  Everyone had a blast, even Eli (what's up with the sad lip??)!

One of our favorite fall outings is the Lebanon Apple Festival!!  The kids insist on their yearly caramel apples, and we always comply (despite the mess :).  Our family cannot get enough fall fun!!

Below are pictures of a fantastic event that I was invited to participate in a couple of weeks ago!  It's called Volley for the Cure, and it's an event to honor breast cancer survivors put on by the volleyball team at Lakota West High School (where Bryan taught for 10 years).  Our good friends have a daughter who plays on the freshman team at West; so we were able to see her play, as well as the JV and Varsity teams (which our volleyball loving daughter LOVED!).  It was a special night of celebration for all of these women who have fought and conquered this disease, as well as those of us still fighting!  Several of our family and friends also attended, and I was completely overwhelmed with emotion as I stood on that gym floor looking up at them.  It was such a memorable night...

This sweet woman has been in the chemo room with me several times, and I was so excited to see her there!  Friendships form so quickly when you're both fighting the same battle.

I'm so bummed, because there was one more picture that I wanted to include, and that's of on of our precious babysitters, Katie.  For some reason, I can't find the picture on my phone anymore!!  Katie has been an incredible light in our family over the past 8 months; and as she came and played with our kids today, I praised God that she's in our life.  This sweet girl is only 15 years old, yet she loves and serves with a maturity that I can only hope my children will possess one day.  She's given so unselfishly of her time, and she's been in our home during some of my most difficult days.  She texts me to let me know she's praying for me, she helps our kids with their schoolwork, she cleans up our home, and she's never asked for anything in return.  She has truly shared her love for Christ by serving us so well, and we are so grateful for her!!