It's been a good two weeks since my last post. I've been able to work, do a few things at home, and read a lot. I've been reading teen fiction lately - partly because I can't focus on anything too much deeper than that, and partly because I want to know what MY teen is currently reading. :-)
I've had a good attitude most days. I struggle with feeling not quite myself physically. I know not to push myself, but even normal activity wears me out. I'm not usually a napper, but I've been napping lately.
I also have bad days. When I feel sorry for myself, and I wish this weren't happening, and I think about all the things I'm NOT doing this spring that I usually do, like camping and gardening and sitting in a lawn chair in the direct sunlight.  Honestly, I really hate I can't do those things and more.
I can sit in the self-pity, or I can choose to get up and throw those thoughts behind me.
Last Sunday, I was sitting in church listening to our pastor talk about Job. He talked about Job and his situation and God's involvement in a way I have never heard said before. The question that is often in my head, "How can God let this happen?!" was answered in a way I could not even attempt to express in this blog. So I'm posting the link to the podcast here.
I hope you listen to it. It has helped me a lot in the last week. In those times when I just lay my head on my desk and groan, and in those times when I get tired walking to my garage and back, or in those times when food tastes wrong or at any other time - I wish I'd heard that sermon years ago.
I continue to feel grateful for all that's being done for me and my family. HUGELY grateful. But gratefulness doesn't preclude my other emotions. However, it can help me not sit in the pity. It does help me not sit in it.
So, as I face another chemo treatment tomorrow, part of me is sighing and mumbling to myself "This sucks.", and another part of me is looking forward to what I could see tomorrow that will make me grateful, and in the gratefulness find some joy.

I wrote 40 thank-you notes yesterday. Not because I felt I had to fulfill some cultural norm. I wrote all morning because I couldn't help it. Those who know me well know when I am overcome with emotion I always have to write. The kindness shown to me and my family compelled me to write all those thank-yous. How could I not? My heart was full to bursting!
I and my family have received daily reminders that we are loved and prayed for. Daily. Whether a phone call, a text, an email, a note with a real stamp in my actual wooden mailbox, or a surprise package, a meal, we are daily reminded that we are not alone in this.
No one should ever be alone when walking through a difficulty like cancer. This diagnosis, cancer, is just about the worst thing on anyones list of bad things you don't want to ever have to deal with in life. You never ask for cancer. Or anything bad you may have to deal with.
Life is hard. But there is ALWAYS hope. And there is almost always the ability to feel JOY. I know our family will make it through this. We will be better for it. And I am not afraid. This strength and this joy cannot come from me. Cancer is huge. It's painful. It's toxic and the medicines to fight it are toxic. This strength and joy are from my God. I'm not afraid because I am in His hands. His hands that work through my doctors. His hands that work through scientists who figure out which drugs work. His hands work through those that carefully prepare meals which make me feel good and nourish my family. Those who have reached out and served us in any way have blessed me and my family. I pray blessings on you and yours.
But even if none of this were given to me; even if I were alone and had no one to care for me, I would still have strength, and hope and joy. Because I believe in a God who cares for me personally and deeply and He would send others to care for me. Like He sent you.

The mail carrier has been to my house three times this morning. And my fridge and freezer are packed with food. Overwhelmed with gratefulness.

I'm sitting in my comfy new pj's this morning with my wheatgrass drink and my protein cookies - just a fraction of the tangible gifts of love, encouragement and cleanliness showered on our home yesterday from friends and family.
I was exhausted and very "achy" when I walked in the door after the first chemo yesterday, and the first thing I noticed were little jars of fresh flowers all over the living room. As I walked through the house my heart swelled and swelled until it burst. Seeing the notes of encouragement from the boys' friends was the pop. Tears of gratefulness flowed for a few minutes while my husband just held me.
I feel like Christ Himself hugged me yesterday and is continuing to hug me. He was a man. He knows what sadness and despair feel like, but because He's perfect, He also knows how and what lifts the heart. Thank you friends and family for being His arms, legs and hugs to my family.
On a practical note, I feel like I have the flu - which is a side effect of the drug Herceptin which I received through the infusion yesterday. I'm also taking an oral medication called Tykerb which is fiercely messing with my intestines. I will follow the orders I've been given regarding good food and wheatgrass smoothies - so far I'm feeling better at this point this morning. Immodium helps too. ;-)
I'm enjoying the sunshine while I write this.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone for prayers, love, food, essential oils, cards, cash, notes, emails, FB posts, instagrams, bathroom-scrubbing hands, and so much more.

I'm remembering the first time I ever traveled by plane internationally ON MY OWN. I was very nervous about it.  I was 19 years old and I was going to visit my parents in Spain. I was a very anxious teen. Anxious about everything. And the thought of everything going as planned between Birmingham, Alabama and Oviedo, Spain seemed nearly impossible. So many things could go wrong! I could miss a flight. I could get on the wrong plane. I could lose my luggage. I could be mugged. The list goes on an on. Welcome to the world of an over-active imagination paired with too much worry.
Anyway, I was sharing some of these fears with some upperclassmen-brotherly types over lunch towards the end of the semester, and they had a brilliant idea. They suggested the possibility that this first trip was truly an adventure for me, and I should embrace it as such. I wasn't buying it. They were also missionary kids going home to their parents for the summer - one to Korea and one to Indonesia. They started talking about the flights, and the different airports they'd be in, and then started laughing about the differences between American toilets and foreign toilets (they ARE boys...). Then one of them said, "Hey! Let's do a bathroom check at all the airports we go through on our trips!"  The other one said, "Yeah, Lisa! The Great World Bathroom Check! You check the ones between here and Madrid and then your home airport and we'll check the ones on the way to Asia. Deal? It'll be an adventure!"
Such great friends/brothers. Give her a task so perhaps she'll be distracted from her anxiety. And remind her that it's all an adventure. Anything new? Adventure. Anxious? It's an adventure! For a girl who grew up on a steady diet of adventure novels for kids, how could I refuse?
I checked my Southern bathrooms in Birmingham and Atlanta, but once I got to New York I gave up. I basically held my breath and my bladder until I boarded the airplane. I practically kissed the ground when I arrived in Madrid (I did use the facilities on the plane). And once I got home, I was good.
Adventure is a good thing. It's very scary sometimes, but oh the stories you can tell when you arrive at your destination. Not to mention the stories you can tell while on the journey to the people you meet along the way!
This trip is going to be hard and scary. And hard. But if I don't look at it like an adventure, how am I even going to take the first step? Just like that first step off a cliff when rappelling - it's scary as hell, but the reward of actually doing such a brave (crazy say some) thing is great.
This trip is different in that it involves a fight to stay alive. The biggest adventure I've ever been on.

Today I'm looking forward to the sunshine through my window and to reading a cookbook (I read cookbooks like they're novels). :-)

My heart is full. Thank you for what has come and for what is to come. I'm overwhelmed with gratefulness. I've mentioned before how I love trees. Here's a photo I took of one in the Highlands area of Birmingham. It's my thank you to you today. :-)

A little history might be in order for the record. :-)
On January 20th I went to my regular doctor at Brookwood for a follow-up for high cholesterol (it's low now). I did not expect to see my doctor at that visit - I thought I'd just have my labs drawn. However, she did ask to see me and did a physical exam, including a breast exam. She felt something abnormal in my left breast, frowned and said I needed a mammogram. It'd been 4 years since my last one. I do self-breast exams every couple of months. This lump was new.
January 24th I went to get a mammogram. When I showed the tech where I felt the lump, it was the size of a large grape. During the mammogram they found another lump, also in the left breast. They did an ultrasound the same day and said I was going to need a biopsy. The biopsy was scheduled for January 28th at Brookwood.
January 28th it snowed. Postponed to February 4th. The biopsy was done on the 4th and told to expect results on the 6th. BTW, February 4th is World Cancer Day (cue the eye-roll).
February 6th, in the evening, I received a call that I was positive for "invasive lobular cancer".
At that moment, Matt and I decided we would transfer my care to UAB Breast Health Center at the Kirklin Clinic (univ. of alabama in birmingham for you out of towners reading this). The dates of the subsequent tests, biopsies, mammograms, CAT scans and labs are a blur. The cancer has spread to a lymph node (or more), but as of today has NOT spread to other organs nor to my bones.
And here we are. Surrounded by the best in the field. Just to give you an idea of how the Lord has been preparing the way for me and my family.
1. I work at the UAB School of Nursing on the same hall with breast cancer researchers and counselors. And it is a part time job (20 hours a week) with FULL HEALTH benefits. Very, very rare.
2. One of my dear friends got a job recently at the Kirklin clinic as an oncology pharmacist - she will be on the team providing my chemotherapy.
3. My doctor, Dr. Forero, is a feisty old Colombian man who happens to be a fantastic communicator. He leaves no doubts in my mind when he tells me what's coming.
4. The nurse practitioner who works with Dr. Forero on Wednesdays in his clinic, is a co-worker of mine at the school of nursing AND we became friends during our trip to Africa two years ago for work. AND she, too, is a cancer researcher advancing cancer care worldwide (she just got back from 3 weeks in Malawi helping set up some nursing education for oncology at the university there).

5. My own boss is a breast cancer survivor. She's been cancer free for 25 years. She is my walking, talking inspiration. And she just arranged for my work family to start bringing me meals. Wow.
7. My church family - There are some walking-talking inspirations there, too. There are no words to express my gratefulness.
So, there you have it. I'm surrounded by expertise, kindness, understanding, love, knowledge, compassion, friendship, and so much more.

So here's the plan. On March 10 I will begin chemotherapy. I'm enrolled in a trial which will last either 12 or 24 weeks. I'll be taking two medications in conjunction with each other which target my specific kind of cancer.  My cancer is HER2 positive, which means these two "smart drugs" will target the HER2, which is the protein/gene that is causing my cancer to grow so rapidly. The tumors in my left breast have grown from being 4 cm when first measured to over 12 cm now.
The chemotherapy's goal is to shrink the tumors. There is a greater chance the cancer WILL NOT return if the tumors are smaller when I have surgery to remove them. Yes, I will have surgery after chemo.  There is no doubt I will have a mastectomy of the left breast. And, since the cancer HAS spread to my lymph node, there is no doubt I will have radiation for 7 weeks after I recover from surgery and before I have reconstruction. Those are the words of my doctor, Dr. Forero. The good news about being enrolled in the trial is that these two drugs have fewer visible side effects than regular chemo. The trial chemo side effects are fatigue, diarrhea (to the point of dehydration if I'm not careful), skin rash and I don't know what else yet. If the trial does not work for me, I will have regular chemo at some point down the road. I will receive chemo by a "port" in my chest every three weeks, as well as by oral pill daily. That's the plan as of right now.