I see things in a different light, with a more tender and understanding heart; I feel more forgiveness than I ever have and it is comforting. I see the yellow flower on a cloudy day, the one that stands alone among dead grass, loose dirt...I see the flower that otherwise by all accounts should not have survived where it grew and realize that on that day I saw that single, lonely flower on that nasty, cloudy day it was God. It was God showing me that I need to remember Him in those times...in the times when there seems to be no hope and remember He is the answer, He is the way, He is the life.
Then I wonder Why don't more people see and hear and feel the way I do? I have to remember that for most people it takes a traumatic event of sorts to help them realize the beauty in things, to truly not take things for granted the way our society tends to, to develop patience, kindness, inner peace and deep love. That traumatic event can be loss of a loved one, serving in a war albeit Iraq or Afghanistan, any war for that matter...or as it was for me, that traumatic event can be a brain tumor diagnosis.
If you have been following me, you are aware that my medical team discovered a new spot in mid March following a first time seizure. It was recommended that I go through with a second brain surgery to remove the tiny spot and test it in order to determine if further treatment would be needed. The tumor they resected April 10, 2014 came back from pathology as a Grade III or now what is called Anaplastic Astrocytoma and is considered malignant. Grade III cells "are abnormal and tend to grow rapidly. They often invade healthy brain tissue and have a tendency to recur." Anaplastic Astrocytomas "grow more rapidly and aggressively than lower grade astrocytomas. The term anaplastic is used to describe cells that divide quickly and do not look at all like the normal cells. They tend to invade surrounding brain tissue, which can complicate surgical removal." My overall surgery went well as they were able to, again, do a total gross resection...which means Dr. Chandler was able to remove all of the tumor that he could see. I have some deficit this time around that I did not have last time. I have a lot of neuropathy on the right side, primarily in my leg and foot. It makes it very awkward to walk, balance, but mostly it makes it feel numb in a sense on that side. It's not painful and for that I am grateful. It feels like my leg and foot is in a constant state of that "being asleep" feeling when you have sat on it too long. Outside of that, I have been told no more driving until September which will be the six month mark from the time I had the seizure. For me, that's the most difficult. Not being able to drive is a total loss of freedom. I am not one that likes to rely on others, but here I am, totally and utterly reliant on others for transportation to anywhere...which includes when I am released to go back to work (hopefully soon). Although difficult, it has been easier to avoid driving at least the past week because my right side is numb. The neuropathy will hopefully subside over time. Otherwise, I don't notice other deficits that are worthy of mentioning.
So, what does all this mean? Well, I will have to go forward with treatment including radiation and chemotherapy. I don't know exactly what that means just yet as I have my follow up appointment on April 26th coming up, but my understanding is it will likely be radiation every day for 30 days and then a chemo pill that will be 5 days on 23 days off for something like a year. I have read and heard a lot about different side effects, but there is no reason to harp on or worry about those until they happen (I am sure there will be another blog about them entirely). It also means absolutely NOTHING. Knowing this information means nothing at all. I have been witness to loss from this terrible disease, but I have also been witness to the unshakable promise that God will see us through this terrible disease regardless of statistics. So all the information in the world means nothing until something happens. I am armed with a great medical team and will pursue treatment as needed. I am blessed with an incredible team of support of friends and family and even strangers that have and continue to pray for me and keep me in their thoughts (many of you reading this right now). I read a quote recently that I love: There isn't enough room in your mind for both worry and faith. You must decide which one will live there. I choose faith.
You may be reading all of this thinking that I have been dealing with this whole situation intellectually...without feelings to an extent. That may be partly true. Being a therapist by trade I have a tendency to be more concerned with others than with myself. I worry more about my family my fiance, my friends and how they are going to handle this experience. I recognize this battle is just as hard, if not harder on them, as they watch helplessly. As weird as it may sound, I am truly thankful that it is me walking this journey and not them. When my friend (who is also a therapist) asked me how I felt the other day I deterermined I was indifferent. I can assure you all that my diagnosis does not come without its fair share of concerns at times, maybe even a few tears and worries about the future. Hell, I am getting married in 5 months! Will my hair fall out before my wedding? Will I live long enough to be an awesome wife to my soon to be husband? Will I have the chance to be a mother? What will I be remembered by? What kind of legacy will I leave?
With all of that being said, I think I have gone on long enough for this post. I could probably keep going, though, but what would I write about later if I get it all out now? :) I will update more as I know more information about upcoming treatment and side effects. Stay tuned and as always, thanks for your continued support, love and prayer. All my love...
