I know someone once said "There's nothing to fear but fear itself" - I think it was someone important. However, I'm also fearful of pain and well, pain. I met with the surgeon yesterday and the detail with which my upcoming surgery was explained left a lot to the imagination. Because I have a very active imagination.
Not only am I fearful of the pain associated with it, but I am also fearful of things unseen; i.e.; the future. Right now I'm falling under the heavy blanket of "what ifs". What if the cancer comes back? What if the surgery goes wrong? What if I have a terrible infection? What if my gall bladder explodes? (yes, fear of the irrational is quite normal for me).
Of course fear with an upcoming major surgery is normal - anyone would be fearful. But I don't want the fear to dominate my outlook. I'm in need of some cheering up. Some pep talks. In the past I would turn to alcohol in an uncertain situation. Now I want to turn to cupcakes and art supplies, but I know that won't help. In truth, nothing earthly and tangible helps.
It's at times like these that I'm reminded of the deeper truth of holy scripture where it says something like, "Make all your requests known to God and.... He will give you peace beyond understanding." I also remember Jesus in the boat in the middle of the storm where He calmed the seas and made the wind stop. I kinda feel like I'm in the middle of a storm. Anxiety bubbling up in my chest and making me short of breath.
Surgery is in August - towards the end of the month. Then I face radiation. Then months of recovery before reconstructive surgery.
Ok. Deep, slow breaths. Deep, slow breaths....

Yesterday I was talking with a good friend at work who asked me how I was doing. I told her that I felt almost normal this week. Every week before my next treatment I forget I even have cancer - I feel that good. So I left the office feeling pretty upbeat. As I walked back to my car I listened to the messages on my phone that had come through during the morning and there was one reminding me of the appointment on Monday in the hematology/oncology department at Kirklin... my good mood was instantly deflated. I was reminded I actually do have cancer. (expletive here)
But I know deflated is not where I need to live. So I got home, watched the Mexico/Brazil game with the neighbors, cheered for Ochoa, the amazing little goalie for Mexico, ate some chips and salsa and forgot again.
Grace to forget for a few moments is grace indeed.
And thank GOD for the World Cup.

I'm remembering....
That moment at the top of the cliffs when I leaned back against an old pine tree while standing on its exposed roots and it was so windy that each gust would make the tree bend slightly and lift my feet off the ground with it.
Mt. Cheaha, Alabama, 1988

I just finished reading my journal from January 25-Feb.6.  January 19th was when my doctor noticed the lumps in a routine exam. I wrote lots of pages during those days. So much uncertainty and so much waiting. I found out I had breast cancer on February 6th. I was both scared and hopeful. I started my treatment on March 10th.
It's now 12 weeks later. The half-way point in some respects. I am amazed and awed at the progress - the two tumors are now being measured in millimeters as opposed to centimeters. It's such a relief. Wow.
The months of March and April had their ups and downs. May has been a month of mostly "ups". I've been able to spend time in the mountains of North Carolina and on the plains of Texas - soaking up good air, warm friendships and rest.
It's now officially summer and it's good to have the boys home more. They are so full of life all the time! Daniel and Tim are such an encouragement to me daily. And the way Matt takes care of me is beyond words.
My extended family of friends, co-workers, friends from church, actual extended family (cousins, aunts, etc), have all been community and support for my family. What a blessing it is to live here.
25 years ago, when I was a skinny 20 year old college graduate, I wished I could see my future. It's a good thing we don't get what we wish for. However, I could NEVER have imagined how rich, rewarding, meaningful and hopeful my life actually is, in spite of the hard stuff.
The detail to which God pays attention in my life is the same as in yours. There's no doubt in my mind that there is a God. One who knows us. And pursues us. And loves us. No doubt.
So, 12 weeks to go will take us through summer. There are more procedures and treatments which will take us through the year. But this week, I'm going to celebrate getting to this point.

Tim this Spring

Daniel this Winter

Daniel and Matt a week ago

Good memories continued....
That moment on the Little River above Desoto Falls when I parked my kayak and floated on my back and the cool water flowed around me as I stared at the clouds float across the blue sky and a dragonfly landed on my nose.
Desoto State Park, 2013

I've decided good memories help fight the blues. So my newest weapon is writing short sentences or paragraphs, or sentences as long as paragraphs, which mention a great memory. I want this to be a list of memories which were heart-stopping, amazing or beautiful in some way. I don't mean this to be a bragging list of amazing things Lisa's done in her well-traveled life - it's a list of memories for which I'm extremely thankful. You may not realize it, but you have moments like these as well. They may not have taken place on top of a mountain in Switzerland, but maybe they happened on top of a mountain in North Carolina, or Colorado, or even Alabama. Yes, we have mountains in Alabama.
So, here's the one about...
...that time my family drove and drove and drove in the pouring rain looking for a Bed-n-Breakfast because it was too wet to camp and the sun finally came out and there was a beautiful full rainbow and Dad said let's drive to the end of the rainbow and we did and found the cutest B&B where Bridget Bardot had once stayed and we ordered salad with our dinner and the cook walked through from the garden to the kitchen with a lettuce he had just pulled from the garden and then after dinner we went upstairs and slept on feather mattresses and it was magical.
-- somewhere in France, 1983

Yesterday I had to go to Kirklin to get my monthly menopause shot. The shot that put me into and is keeping me in menopause - about 10 years earlier than expected. It was not a good day. I had to wait for 2 hours to spend 5 minutes with the nurse giving me my shot. It hurt. A two hour wait in a waiting room full of sad people. And then getting a shot that HURTS. I cried when she gave me the shot. And she looked so sad and said, "I'm sorry I hurt you." And I whispered, "I know".
I want to see an empty infusion/chemo waiting room. Empty because we're all well.
I really want to go camping and sit for a long while inhaling the fresh air only trees can produce.
I want to sink underwater at a pool and feel the refreshment of cool water.
I want to take another hike. Maybe a shorter one this time. And in cooler weather.
I feel so tired.
But I'll keep fighting.