Even storms have a purpose

so the cancer grows, bit by bit, it grows.  The reality is it's never really stopped growing for years now.  But we can forget about it for periods of time.  And that's good, it's good to have a break, good to focus on all the others things that are a part of life.  Today the doctor advises me to think about treatment again, to not let it go unchecked for much longer.  This news is not what I nor people around me wanted to receive.  We want life to be rosy and lovely all the time.  Of course we do.  But why?  Why do we not love the storms too?  Storms have much purpose when you stop to think about it.

I was in the barn tonight, cleaning stalls, brushing the horses, listening to them munch hay....I was thinking about how life is so much like the weather.  We so look forward to the clear days, when the sun shines and the wind gently blows?  Or the calm night when the stars glow bright.  I pushed the wheelbarrow outside to discover that a storm had blown in.  Gone was the mild night.  The rain pelted my cheek and the wind swirled my hair.  At first I tucked my head down and hunched my shoulders.  But then I lifted my chin, and once again felt the rain hit my face and the wind tussle my hair.  Sure it was rougher and harder but it was not actually bad.  

So tonight, I lift my chin to feel the rain, to love the storm.  

This is not me in the photo, but I love how she is smiling up into the rain.

The night before a doctor's appointment.

It's bedtime the night before a doctor's appointment...I've already seen the test results.  Yep, I still have cancer.  Yep, it's still growing slowly.  Do I think about cancer often?  Yep, every single day, sometimes many times a day.  What do I think about?  Everything.  But tonight I find myself in a strange place with my thoughts.  I realize I am reminiscing.  So much has happened.  There has been so much time spent on my cancer...thinking and talking about it, planning, attempting to control, seeing doctors, going for treatment, going for tests, thinking about it some more.  And in the midst of all that time spent on cancer a lot of life has been lived.  In 2008 I was told 2 more years, and I went to Mexico desperate for options.  In 2010 it was a heavy chemo regime in Montreal.  Yet here it is, 2015.  In a few weeks I will celebrate 25 years of marriage with a man has hung in there with me honoring all his promises; for better or worse, in sickness and in health.  The baby boy who grew in my belly at the same time as the cancer is becoming a strapping young man with wide shoulders and a smile that always reaches his eyes.  Our daughters are no longer children, they are both adults making their own journeys in life, women whose friendship I now cherish.  There has been the hallmark occasions; the birth of a grandchild, attending graduations, weddings, trips and the list goes on.  There has been many moments that are less grand in description but perhaps more grand in impact; a conversation that touched on subjects rarely spoken of, a walk in the woods, an early morning chat over coffee, a moment with a stranger, a smile that said 1000 words.  Things that happen when you are open to receive and grateful for the gift.

The Lord has blessed me with so much, given grace and then more grace.  I've done a lot of things I am not proud to speak of, taken much for granted, been careless with my gifts and my time and yet still, I am abundantly blessed.  "a wretch like me"

For all that has happened, all that I have gotten through, I feel unsettled tonight.  I can read the test results and I know the cancer continues to creep.  In me there is still a desire to plan my life.  What treatment?  When?  For what result and for how long?  Despite all I have learned about letting go, I admit today I yearn for a concrete plan.  And that is not possible.

This is not a typical post I know.  Usually I have a specific message to share.  Not today.  Today I simply share that I feel a bit lost.  Not unhappy.  Just a bit lost in the fog.  Perhaps my life in general is like that...work, home and health...all are foggy and unclear in direction at the moment.  It's like that in the mountain pass at times...when you are passing through a narrow spot, it can be hard to see the path.  It's okay, it's just a place I am passing through. (more on my thoughts on narrow spots in past blog post Weed the garden...how God helped me to handle this rough 

I write all this because I feel connected with those of you who have walked this journey with me in your own world...sometimes you have written to me and told me of the things we share.   You have let me know how our lives connected.  Thank you for that.

with much love, Teresa

First chemo day, 2010 - Jewish General in Montreal

Tanner and me waiting for the bus - no hair Mom - fall 2010

With my girls, Christmas 2010 - no hair, no care - much love.

I can live with this

I have my CT scan report in hand.  I have read it top to bottom, bottom to top and all in between.  It's a good report, Mike and I give it a B+.  Not the very best it could be but certainly no where near the worst.  A little bit above average we think.  It uses words like slight, similar and mild.

Towards the end of the report it the final sentence and it reads on my Jan 7, 2015 test as follows:  "slight interval growth in abdominal retro-peritoneal and pelvic masses".

That's it...cancer is still there.  Getting a wee bit bigger over time.  And here's the thing I realized after reading the report....I find myself thinking "I can live with that".  At first I didn't realize the impact of that thought, and then there was an ah ha moment - there was a time when my first thought would have been "Will I die from this?"

2015 is starting differently for me.  I find my calendar is filling up with ambitious plans.  I didn't mean for this to happen, it's just the path I seem to be on.  Doors keep opening up.   There was a time when my intentions were to simplify, do less, make it easier for when I was sick.  Ha!

We have sold our house after only 3 showings and 6 weeks on the market.  So we are moving :) purging, packing and embracing building a new home for our family.

We decided not to travel anywhere this winter but then a call came asking us to join a mission trip to Haiti.  So we are packing bags and going to serve in Haiti in March.

New opportunities keep cropping up.  2015 is not going to be a year of decreasing.

Yep, I can live with cancer.  Live life full and wide.  Thank you God.

Last Time Round (my poem)

Last Time Round

It's on my heart, all the time,
I think it almost every other second.
It's not a weight bearing down,
more like a balloon that lifts me,
a bit higher than I was on my own.

Do you see it floating there just above me?
Did you know you have the same balloon?
Just maybe you don't see it,
don't feel it's tug.
maybe you covered it up, but it's still there.

What if this is the last time?
This is the thought that is with me
every moment in all I do
and it's a gift from God, this thought,
like a balloon that tugs at me.

my last time to wrap a gift to give,
my last time to prepare a meal for those I love
Like a carnival ride that is closing down
this is the last time round folks.
Now how good is the ride?

You know the ride will circle around,
at least a few more times.
But you've heard the call,
last time round....
It will stop, sometime soon.

Now how do the trees look, blowing in the breeze?
Will you notice the clouds white in the blue sky,
the child laughing behind you, the father beside.
The sun, it warms your face
and your heart swells as you breath it all in deep.

Did the ride become so much more
when you heard the words last time round.
Now will you let the thought,
"what if this is the last time",
be the balloon that lifts you a bit more.

Teresa Bell
6:30am Christmas Eve Day 2014

Walk with me

This morning I could not sleep...2am get a glass of milk...3am eat some cereal...4am give up and get up.  I make a cup of coffee and peel apples, prepping two pans of apple crisp for today as a surprise for my kids and the staff at work.  Still not sleepy, couldn't think of anything else to do, so I put on my jacket and went into the office.  Driving in, I was thinking of the year end paperwork I could get done.

As usually happens when I am away from my desk, magically there appears an assortment of papers and things to do that was not there when I left.  I start sorting the pile;  magazine that goes into the recycle, bubble wrap package with my name on it that is probably a book I ordered for a Christmas gift.  I open it and it gets more interesting..there is a smallish box and card inside.

My parents always insisted - open the card first.  It's a Christmas card, a lovely card signed by someone I don't know.  Now this is getting good - I'm smiling and super curious.  Taped inside is another envelope.  I open the end and peek in - lined paper with hand writing on it.  Wow!  nothing is more intriguing than that.  I fully focus on the moment as I unfold the sheets and take it in...pretty handwriting, in paragraphs with indents - a true letter.  I begin reading....

I have cancer.  I'm not unique in that.  Many, many people have cancer.  I never meant to share my story publicly, its just kinda happened.  A little here, a little there.  Doors opened and I said yes.  And the sharing of my story has become the miracle I prayed for.  I thought I was praying for a cure, but God gave me something even better.  He gave my life this purpose; he gave me a chance to reach out and help someone else.

Back to the letter....it's from a woman I didn't know before, but I do now.  She too has this rare cancer called liposarcoma.  She too has felt alone, scared, afloat without much hope or support from the medical community, lacking information and yet, she desires to live her life fully.  She wrote to tell me about herself.  She shared that she found my story, my writings and it helped her.  That it gave her hope and strength.

“When you stand and share your story in an empowering way, your story will heal you and your story will heal somebody else." ~ Iyanla Vanzant ~ this quote shared with me by Mike and Bonnie Lang on a Survive and Thrive expedition.  

I'm just a small grain of sand in this world.  When I think of the big problem cancer is, it can seem that it needs a big solution.  And so I want to ask "God, why don't you do something?"  There have been and still are so many people who touch my life, each one helping me find the answer to this question.  The song "Do Something" by Matthew West best describes the answer.

So, I shook my fist at Heaven

Said, "God, why don't You do something?"

He said, "I did, I created you"

If not us, then who

If not me and you

Listen here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_RjndG0IX8 
or read the lyrics here http://www.metrolyrics.com/do-something-lyrics-matthew-west.html

I prayed and I asked the Lord to use my life for a greater purpose. I promised I would give the control over to him but that I would need help hearing, knowing, understanding what he had planned for me. I would open my hands and let him place in them the gifts he had meant for me, and it might be hard to accept them.  Because sometimes those gifts don't look so pretty.  This morning these gifts look very beautiful indeed.  This letter, the words she took the time to write and mail, the connection across the miles has me thinking of the ways I have been connected with others through these cancer years, the way it has worked change in my life, seeing how my kids have grown up through it, hearing others say they live a little happier today, knowing without a doubt how much the people in my life mean to me, the trust and love I have for my husband, the chance to feel others support, to give help, to receive help, to walk with others, to take their hand...life is good and God is great.

Dear R, your gesture meant more than my words can express.  I am sorry I have not posted more about the specifics of my cancer care recently, I did not realize that others may be wondering.  I will write more in another blog after I look up the details from my reports.  The short story is I am doing very well.  I have tumors in my abdomen but currently we have stopped them from growing.  I took 5 cycles of Trabectadin in the fall (a chemo given over 24 hours, every 3 weeks) and a CT scan in November showed stable, that there was almost no growth in tumor size.  I feel good, very good.  And I look forward to connecting with you more.

Facing my fears (and the joy of a baby)

A cancer diagnosis causes many thoughts like: Am I going to die? How soon? What am I going to miss? What do I have to prepare for? What can I prepare for? 

There was a time in my cancer journey that I still remember well. It was the day I first faced my fears head on. I visualize a lot, it's how I think and process. I sat on my porch early one morning and mentally opened the door of what at that time was my greatest fear. I had never been able to speak it, out loud or in my head. But that morning I opened the door named "fear" to see what was hidden behind and I looked at it, with eyes wide open. I looked at it, acknowledged it.  I see you, my great fear. I know you now. There it was - "I was afraid of dying too soon".  And once I  faced the monster it didn't have the same hold over me.  Next I thought a lot about why "dying too soon" made me sad. Does the world need me? Well to be honest the answer is no. I would be missed but the world would continue. I realized it makes me sad because of all I will miss. Life here is so rich, so full of amazing moments and events, feelings, experiences, sights, occasions  and I don't want to miss. I don't want to miss a thing. This realization causes one to live with a different attitude. Seize the moments. Don't pass up, walk by, overlook. Appreciate. Acknowledge. Love without holding back.  

I'm thinking of all this now because something happened last week I didn't know if I would get to experience. At 45 years young, I know the joy of having a grandchild. When I accepted that there was no cure for my cancer one of the things I most feared I would miss was knowing my grandchild.  And here she is, in my arms, in my life, little miss Holly Grace!  It's like God reached down into the sands of time, swirled his hand in the future and poured a handful of future right into my life now. Oh, how my God blesses me!  

Be okay with whatever reality is mine, and my river poem

Comments to blog posts are amazing, I am so grateful when people take the time to write their thoughts and share with all of us. And for me, it's like getting a hug from you.  I wanted to share a particular comment posted by Mary on my last blog because in it she has given me an answer to a question I was afraid to ask.  

Mary wrote: "There might be many lessons here. I like to be okay with whatever reality is mine. If there ever comes a time when all I can be is empty, that will be enough for me. My husband will remind me that I have lived a full life, that I have loved deeply every moment I could. My loved ones will embrace me in whatever shape they find me, knowing how I lived and loved them when I had the power to do so. And this is okay with me. We all have limitations. Some of us will go out like firecrackers, some like the puff of smoke lingering after the candle goes out. The challenge is to be okay with your course, because there are some things none of us can control."

What she addressed is the root of what I was afraid of and her reply has brought me a lot of comfort. "Be okay with whatever reality is mine. My loved ones will embrace me in whatever shape they find me, knowing how I lived and loved them when I had the power to do so." I have imprinted these words on my heart and feel they will carry me through any time ahead when I feared I would not be all I want to be. Perhaps I forgot how powerful memories will be, that we don't have to maintain all the time.  There are times to time to rest and let go.  And maybe even enjoy that part of the ride;  like when you paddle the boat hard and then lift the oar and coast, enjoying the view of where you have arrived to.

taken on 2012 Qwyhee River "Survive & Thrive" expedition

I am in the hospital today on day 2 of chemo infusion.  I pulled out my journal from the Owyhee expedition and re-read it.  And here I must note that Mikey and Bonnie Lang are an amazing young couple who host young adult cancer survivors to these expeditions and I encourage any YA cancer survivor to consider taking a trip with them, see their facebook page Survive & Thrive Expeditions.    

Back to the journal entry - this was from day 3 on the river.  It feels like a poem, so that is the format I will write it in, but let me assure you it does not look this pretty in my journal :)

I am like the river

strong, determined to find a path,

but to do so I must be fluid, 

twisting and turning, sometimes seeking the narrow spot.

Knowing when to give in and go around the rocks, 

loud at times, pushing hard like the rapids,

quiet at times, calm, settled, seaming to rest,

and for the most part, gently flowing,

but always forward.

~Teresa Bell, June 16, 2012

As you can tell, the river trips have greatly impacted my life; Kayaking the Owhyee river in 2012 with Mike and river rafting the mighty Colorado through the Grand Canyon with Kaitlyn in 2013.  Here are some of my favourite pics.

Our raft in the rough rapids of the Grand Canyon -  Kinda' like life - terrifying at the time but really exhilarating when you come through the other side.

me and my girl Kaitlyn, enjoying the ride together

yep, sometimes life's like that - upside down without a paddle

a narrow spot can be so beautiful

calm waters on the Owyhee

me and my favourite person in the whole world - taking on the view of the river from Chalk mountain, which we hiked up before sunrise!

looking ahead at all those rocks - gulp!

even the mighty Colorado has it's quiet moments