Sunday, April 8, 2012

Clinging to the Cross

“What, then, shall we say in response to these things?  If God is for us, who can be against us?”—Romans 8:31
On this Easter Sunday, I am filled with the spirit of God more, perhaps, than any Easter Sunday before.  God has carried me through these past few days, weeks, and months, and, with His continued strength and reassurance, I hope to be able to withstand anything that comes.  Thusfar, 2012 has been a whirlwind, and my faith has often been the only thing keeping me grounded.
In case you’re lost and wondering just what I’m talking about, I’ll back up and start from the beginning.
On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day (January 16), my mom started having some irregular bleeding.  Having gone through menopause years earlier, this was immediately concerning, so she made an appointment with her local gynecologist.  She saw him on February 2, and he diagnosed her with fibroid tumors and said it was very possible the bleeding would stop on its own.  He wanted to see her back in 2 weeks to check the status of the bleeding and do a scrape of the lining of her uterus.  She returned to his office on February 16 for the scrape, but he was unable to get the sample he wanted.  So, he scheduled her for a D & C (Dilation and Curettage, a routine outpatient surgical procedure) on February 24, in order to obtain the needed sample of the lining of her uterus.  The procedure went smoothly, and we awaited her results.  Throughout all of this time, mom had no pain and the bleeding had ceased soon after her initial visit to her doctor.  We had speculated in our own minds that her doctor might recommend her having a hysterectomy over the summer.   On March 2, however, she went back to her doctor and received a diagnosis I had feared but not dared to speak:  endometrial (uterine) cancer.
Those two words hit me in the stomach with a one-two punch that took my breath away.  Cancer.  My brain could hardly process it.  The word just didn’t even feel right in my mouth—it tasted bad and begged to be spit out.  The world tilted a little in that instant, and it immediately became one of those before/after moments.   My life was one way before the diagnosis; my life is different now.
Her local gynecologist referred her on to a gynecological oncologist in Jackson, and an appointment was made with him for March 13.  Not only was that appointment made, actually, but she had an appointment the following day for surgery, as well—a total hysterectomy, including uterus, ovaries, lymph nodes and appendix, too.  (See why I feel like I’m in a whirlwind?)  So, on the morning of March 13, we traveled to Jackson and met with her oncologist.  As mom and I will both attest, walking into an oncologist’s office makes a cancer diagnosis awfully real.  Looking around the waiting room, I knew that everyone there was associated in some way with a cancerous diagnosis, and my heart broke for them just as I knew theirs broke for me.  Strangers upon entering, we all quickly realized we had more in common than we initially saw. 
We met with her doctor, whom we both instantly liked, and talked with him about the next day’s procedure as well as the possibilities for post-op treatment.  We left his office with detailed surgery-day instructions and spinning heads, but we were both eager to “get this show on the road.”  The surgery went well, and mom began her recovery.  Her doctor had hoped to be able to perform the surgery using the technologically-advanced da Vinci robot, but, because of the positioning of one of her ovaries, he had to do an incision.  That caused mom some additional discomfort as she began to heal from the operation, but we were, of course, in favor of him doing whatever he needed to do to get the cancer.  In addition, mom lost a good bit of blood during surgery (all of the nurses kept saying she had a “big surgery”), so, several days after her operation, she had to receive 2 units of blood.  We were released from the hospital on Monday, March 19, and headed home to Columbus (you can imagine how unpleasant that ride was).  After only being home a few days, I noticed that one of the incision spots looked a little infected, so I called her oncologist’s nurse practitioner to check it out with her.  She called mom in an antibiotic, which we started that day.  (It’s a running joke with mom and I (observed in her past surgical endeavors), that she can never do anything the easy way!!)  In the weeks since, she’s been resting and recovering and trying to regain a little bit of strength every day.  I’ve been coming home to help her every weekend, as she gets tired very easily.  I am, without a doubt, exhausted and practically dead on my feet much of the time, but I’m so thankful to be able to help her through this time and even more thankful for the strength God gives me to continue on. 
As it stands now, we await one final piece of the puzzle to know where her treatment will go from here.  We are still waiting on the pathology report from her surgery, as the lab has been backed up and her doctor wants to have time to thoroughly study the pre-op and post-op reports.  You can probably imagine how tortuous this waiting has been, but we cling to the knowledge that this too is part of God’s plan for both of our lives, and we know that, in perfect time, the next steps will be revealed.
I cannot thank you all enough for the calls, texts, emails, cards, visits, flowers, food, and, most of all, thoughts and prayers you’ve sent our way over the past weeks.  Your love and support has kept us going when things got too heavy, and we will never be able to express to you all how much it means.  I ask you to please continue to pray for us as we await the pathology report (which we hope to have Tuesday) and find out what, if any, will be the next step in mom’s treatment.  Seeing as the first symptom appeared not even 3 months ago, you can understand why our heads continue to spin when we really think about all that has come to pass so far this year.  We ask your prayers for strength, patience, thankfulness, and, perhaps most of all, trust in God’s perfect plan.  We fully believe that God is in control of all things, but worry and anxiety and discouragement inevitably try to creep in, and your kind words and fervent prayers help us fight those dark moments.  I will try to be more vigilant in updating the blog, but let me again say a huge THANK YOU for all you’ve done for us these past weeks!!
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."--Jeremiah 29:11
To God be the Glory,

1 comment:

Judy said...

I just heard about your mom today, do I immediately came to your blog to get an update. This post is exactly how I felt when I got my diagnosis a few months ago. The word c----- is as foul a word that exists. There are very few things in the world that I hate, but the word c----- is one of them. Your description of the waiting room was spot on. Exactly how I felt. And the nurses said my surgery was "big" also. Must be a common description. I had 6.chemo treatments, one every 3 weeks. My side effects were minimal. My last one was on Tuesday, janurary 30 and I actually taught school on Wednesday and Thursday. Great side effect meds. I hated losing my hair. Take your mother to Trish Shepherd now before it starts coming out and let Trish order her a wig or two. Trish has lots to try on and choose from. She will meet you privately if you prefer. I covered my mirrors in my bathroom do I have never seen my bald head. That's my way of coping. Tell your mother I'll be praying and feel free to call and talk. Been there. Much love.