Weed the garden...how God helped me to handle this rough patch

My Grandpa and I

I grow a garden, a vegetable garden, and I do it because a) I like the idea of eating food I grew, self sufficiency and b) it's what I grew up with, my parents tuaght me the vegetable garden was an important source of our food and c) I have very fond memories of my grandfather caring for his vegetable garden which in my child's mine was a large, beautiful space that he tended with a gentleness and persistence.  I never thought of it as a life lesson until recently.

Let me back up a few weeks, back to June 25 when I went for a CT scan.  CT scans are the tell all of my cancer life, they show everything.  I have often wished there was a special scanner in my closet, that I could just step in front of like a mirror and could check on what was happening inside me.   The realty is I have to wait for CT scan results.  Because my doctors and I have developed a relationship over time, they know me well enough now to let me have my results before I go for the official in office consultation.  This is so much better me.  This time I really thought I would read the words NED, which means "no evidence of disease" and is the golden words for Sarcoma patients.  I felt with the proven success of the radiation on the bladder area tumor, plus the new trail drug Votrient I was on, plus the abundance of good fresh juicing I was drinking and my overall healthy feeling that this would be the moment of ahhhhh...no more tumors. But when I held that report in my hand, that was not what I read.  I will put in writing the results later in my blog but that is not what is most important, first I want to share what has become so strong in my heart since reading those results.

It's the first of July and this is where I was at.  I was feeling heavily burdened, I just did not know what to do, what to think.  I felt sad, disappointed, lost.  I paid attention to my body and there was no lift in my step, my shoulders leaned forward, my jaw was slack.  I sighed, a lot.  My mind was working all the time and yet not working.  At work and at home I had no focus and did not accomplish much.  Those around me could see it, and yet they knew they could only give me time to work it out myself.  When I say I don't stay rosy pink all the time, this is what I refer to...I have these moments too.  I think everyone has times like this, with a life event that is greater than they had capacity for.  Sometimes it lasts for an hour and sometimes it's longer.  Judy, the mom of a young woman who lived and died of osteosarcoma, spoke about how their family handled these dark times - they agreed to let it wash over them for 24 hours and then they had to move on.  I knew I would move on, I was committed to it, but I was not sure how and I turned to my God for help.  I prayed for help, to know what to do next and then I waited with all the patience I could muster (and if you know me you know patience is not one of my virtues when I want something to change).  Watching my new son-in-law and his friends cope with the death of a close friend taught me a lot during this time, and I tried to model their complete and utter faith in God to lead them through this narrow spot.

This is going to be a long blog..I am warning you now..so go get a coffee or tea now and settle in with me :)

a narrow spot, climbing chalk mountain,
 the Owyhee River Kayak trip, June 2012

Narrow spots in life...another teaching I learned from a great woman Gabrielle Roth (I attended a conference in 2012 that she spoke at).  She said - "picture our life as a trek across the country and picture encountering a mountain range...you know you must cross through it and the pass will become very narrow, steep and difficult...but, and here is the joy and hope in it all...but you can pass through it".  And adding my own twist to her story, you can choose to get stuck at the foot of the mountain and never pass through to the other side.  You can't see the other side, so you will never know what you are missing but what if it's so beautiful!!! and it probably is.  And what about the amazing things you might encounter on the pass through to the other side of the mountain!!! and who wants to stay stuck in the dark shadows anyhow.  Narrow spots in life...they will be there...they will be hard to pass through...but they will be worth going through.  My faith allows me to believe this.  This is where I feel fierce grace...it has to be fierce when in a narrow spot.

Mike and I at the top of Chalk Mountain, well worth the climb

I prayed, I prayed asking "what do I do?"  "help me God to understand what you want me to do with this?"  "how do I cope?"  "how do I help those around me cope?"   And then I tried to be silent, open and patient in my heart and mind...which are all new things for me, things I have been learning through my journey with cancer.  The old me would have stormed ahead with my own armor on.  The changing me is trying to wait for God to put the right shield and sword in my hand.

Here is what happened.

my garden, today, July 27, 2013

Mid July I am strolling across the yard having come from the barn.  It's early, quite early and the sun is just coming up.  My family is sleeping.  The world is peaceful, I have let the horses out and they are grazing in the field beside me.  Throughout the night it had rained a lot, the ground is soaked.  I am still wearing my pajamas (as I often am at this time, having thought I was just slipping out the the barn quickly to let the horses out). I paused at my garden, and saw a lot of weeds..tall big weeds, filling all the space between the vegetables, which had been bothering me for many weeks, knowing it was getting overrun with the weeds.  Inspired because the soil was wet, making it so much easier to pull, I grabbed a tall weed and pulled it out. It came out so easily and it was so satisfying that I pulled another, and another.  Next thing I knew, I was head first, immersed in the garden, pulling and pulling.  For the next hour I worked in the silence of the morning, pulling and clearing.  And that is when I heard God, in my heart, saying "just weed the garden".  I don't have to come up with any great plan, just "weed the garden".  Simply take out what does not belong, take out the things that choke, clog, prevent growth.  Don't make it complicated or something that needs a big plan, just start with one weed, then the next.  The time is right now, the soil has been loosened with the rain, just reach in and pull.  So that is all I need to do and I have take a lot of comfort and reassurance from it.  God has this.  All I need to do is weed the garden, take the things out of my life that are not good for me.  Keep it simple, just reach in and pull, one at a time.  God has helped, he has loosened the soil of my life with a solid drenching rain. So that morning, after I had all the weeds pulled I sat down in a chair at the end of the garden.  I realized that the task of weeding that had seemed huge and overwhelming for so many weeks had been easily accomplished in short period of time without being exhausting.  I looked at my garden, thinking how much it resembled my life.  It was made up many different types of plants, which had been planted with a plan in mind but how they grew was affected by the sun, rain and wind since the seeds were first sown.  There was now a beautiful organized chaos.  Some plants were flourishing, some not but all together my garden was a thriving.  And it was beautiful.  Beautiful just the way it was, in it's purpose and plan.  It had survived the time when the weeds had seemed to overrun it...grown wild and untended...when the weeds were taller than the vegetables...some weeds still existed, there would always be some weeds but that was okay too.  My life was explained to me that morning, when my mind was quiet and my heart was open, waiting, expecting God.

There is more to write, but right now its time for me to head outside and enjoy the day ahead.  I will be back later to finish up.  Love, Teresa

Where I have been these past months...

...it's been a long time since I posted...sorry to have been so absent...I was carried away living life!  It's been a whirlwind of good things since my radiation treatment in February.  Since then I have had a family holiday in the sunny south which is always a great thing to do in the winter, and it was even more sweet this year as I had been away for 2 weeks for the radiation in Montreal.  I just loved having the down time to hang with my family.  Next there was the fulfillment of a life long goal - I joined a the Sask Haiti Medical team for mission work - you can read the team blog at http://saskhaitimedicalteam.blogspot.ca and to tell you what it meant to me personally deserves a blog post all on its own.

Serving in Haiti, what a blessing in my life.

I loved, just loved, being able to spend a few moments with each patient.

Mike and I dressed for Church in Haiti

 Then there was the event every Mom dreams, the marriage of my oldest daughter.  The wedding took place June 22, and it's was a personal event so I won't post much of the details, but I do want to share how incredibly, powerfully grateful I am to have experienced this day.  When having cancer is poking around in your mind you wonder if you will get to be a part of these kinds of life moments, just an example of not taking anything for granted.  I loved every single moment of the wedding, from the time her husband-to-be asked for our blessing, to the planning to the day itself. 

Mike and I watching the marriage of our eldest daughter.

Paula and her Dad - I was so proud.

Faces of Cancer video project

We are still alive

An article was brought to my attention, "A Tattoo on the Brain" by James Salwitz.  In it, he writes, "...we must understand that medicine often causes deep injury beyond that of the flesh...When someone is treated for disease, their body is invaded. Any invasion of the body that scars bone, muscle, and vessel, also scars the mind. How can we predict how deep a wound may become, and how much it may transform? Is it the person or the act?  It was just a minor procedure, a one day stay in the hospital, not really much pain, rapid  recovery, she was back to work in two weeks, but somehow the wound buries  deep into the core of a mind changed forever, a deep pain that never  heals.  Stage 1 melanoma … take out the ovaries …  a near lethal  aneurysm … no big deal … really? As family and friends of patients, we must also remember that healed and Healed are not the same thing.   Just because the body is better, does not mean that the mind has followed.  We need empathetic support and understanding long after the crisis has past.  New trauma or stress can release demons, and we must all be aware and sensitive, for yesterday’s surgery is tomorrow’s pain. Finally, as patients we must understand we have been changed.  There is something brutal about invasive medical care, which may affect us deeply. We must be gentle with ourselves and realize healing is more than tissue deep.  Healing is of the mind, and may in part take a lifetime...”

I’ve been thinking on this a lot since reading it.  Do I feel like this?  Do I understand this thought? Can I empathize with it?  I have seen some comments written in response to the article, people expressing extreme relief that someone else gets how they feel.  While my heart hurts for their pain and distress, I find that although I want to empathize with someone who feels like this, as it sounds like a sad and awful place to be, I must admit I don’t understand it.  Does that make me a bad person?  I hope not.  It does make me realize how important it is that we allow each other to have our own unique feelings, that we not insist anyone conform to how they “should” feel.  

Last week I had the pleasure of meeting a friend for breakfast while I was in Montreal.  I am always looking for the upside of everything :) and one of the upsides to being in Montreal for an extended stay (10 days for radiation) is that I have a chance to meet up with my buddy Grant.  Grant and I met while staying in the same hospital room for chemotherapy in the spring of 2011, and we have remained friends since.  He has recently been through some very intense treatments so I asked him if he felt invaded, scarred on an emotional level or wounded other than flesh.  What he said to me was profound, words I will reuse and probably start to adapt as my own.  He said...I am still alive, and that is what we are asking of the doctor when we go for treatment...to stay alive.  This resonates with me.  When I sit in front of my medical team, be it the surgeon, oncologist, radiologist, lab technician, etc., what I am asking of them is to assist me in my quest to stay alive.  It is my choice, and perhaps we forget that we always have choice.  No one or nothing “gave” us cancer so we cannot expect someone or something to “take” it away.  As with everything that “happens” in my life, the one thing I have 100% control over is how I react and my ability to make choices.  I asked the surgeon to invade my body, I asked the oncologist to kill my cells with chemo, I choose these things.  They were not inflicted upon me.   These things were done in response to my request “help me stay alive”.  I choose to feel gratitude for these things.  I suppose could react to surgery by viewing it as an invasion, or consider the chemo a permanent scar on my soul, but really, these were gifts to me.    I don’t think it’s possible to feel grateful and hurt at the same time.  I am filled with gratitude, gratitude for skilled surgeons hands, gratitude for nurses who help me when I can’t help myself, donors who helped build the hospital I seek care in, the doctor who attends conferences to advance his understanding of my disease, drug research and chemo that eats up cancer cells, gratitude for friends taking time to write a note saying they are thinking of me, the list is endless.  When my head, heart and soul focus on gratitude I don’t feel like a victim, I feel blessed and bestowed upon.  And as Grant said...we are still alive...this is good.

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend." - Melody Beattie

As I sit down to write more it’s a day later.  I have just finished 10 days of radiation treatment and having been away from home I am probably even more than my usual reminiscent self.  While all I have written still feels true in my mind it would be wrong of me to not also share that I don’t maintain a rosy, gratitude infused attitude all the time.  There are times when I feel angry, sad, let down, frightened, bewildered, panic, disappointment, frustration and there are times when I can’t take another step...when I have to just pause before I can go on.  I heard a Mom speak, back in 2009, about her experience of watching her daughter fight and eventually die of osteosarcoma cancer.  She said something I try to remember, “When bad news came, we (her daughter and herself) allowed ourselves 24 hours of feeling all the negative emotions we had, but then, after the 24 hours, it was time to get on with life”.   Because as Grant so wisely and simply said, “We are still alive”.  You just can’t argue with that.

p.s.  I learned that in the Spring of 2013 my friend Grant passed away.  This post is the most read post on my blog and I dedicate it to his friendship and wisdom.  Grant was in the bed beside me during a chemo stint at the Jewish General Hospital.  He was the one who started the conversation, went for the morning coffee and reached out in friendship.  Thank you Grant.  You made a difference in my life.

Treatment again...here we go...round 6

Like a boxing match...the bell rings and round six begins.

Oct, last fall, my CT scan showed a small tumor at my bladder area which we were sure was more sarcoma and a small nodule in my lung which they could not be sure what it was but potentially was my first metastasis. As my post "what do you say in a moment like this" reveals, this news was extremely difficult the time.  My doctor in Kingston felt these were slow growing and we could watch and wait...scan again in April.  However my Montreal doctor wanted the scan done at 3 months.

Jan 15, 2013 was the 3 month Ct scan and it showed good news from my point of view.  Good news is the 9mm lung nodule is now gone.  This is very good news indeed.  Good news is there are no new tumors.  I believe there are 3 forces at work in this...faith, fasting and good luck.  The bladder tumor did grow a bit more, from 3cm to 5cm.  After seeing the doctors in Montreal, their concern is the tumor will break through the bladder wall which would of course be serious trouble.  The tumor has to go and the treatment recommendation I again consider to be good news.  The possible treatment options were surgery, drug therapy or radiation.  The radiologist says he can radiate this tumor, which is the least invasive, lowest side effect option. I have had my lifetime limit of radiation to most of my abdomen but this tumor is below that field.  The possible side effects during treatment and two weeks after it are:  don't consume food rich in fiber, raw vegetables and fruit, wear loose clothing over the area, protect skin from sun, don't swim in salt water, frequent urination, mild diarrhea. Okay, lets do this!

Getting radiation markings done Jan 2013

 My plan...to take the train to Montreal and stay at the Canadian Cancer Society lodge while going for treatment daily at the Jewish General.  I went for my markings on Jan 23rd.  This is how it went...first I got a gown and had an iv put in my arm...standard stuff.  Then I lay on my back on the Ct table and a blue pillow filled with what seemed to be foam dots was placed under my feet and lower legs.  The air was then sucked out of the pillow, forcing it to mold around my feet and legs.  This I am told is a mold that I will fit my feet back into which will ensure I am placed in the same location on the table for radiation.  Then I got that lovely dye by iv (plus I drank some earlier) which makes me feel warm and nauseous.  I have found that chewing gum as the dye is going into my arm iv helps a lot. Using the Ct scan, laser beams are shone on my abdomen and the technicians mark out my tumor.  3 small tattoo dots are made, one middle of my low tummy and one on each side of my hip.  They tell me some calculations need to be done and then I will be called back to start radiation.

Feelin' good in the classic hospital gown :)

Life does not stop for cancer.  Sometimes cancer stops life plans though.  Right now something different is happening - my plans in life seem to be meshing with what cancer is requiring.  In March my husband and I are planning to join HaitiArise, a team bringing medical care to Haiti. This has been something in my heart I have wanted to do for many years. My nature is not to let anything hold me back from doing what is important to me and my drive is really strong.  But I recognize this mission and my health affect a lot of people and it's not just about what I want to do.  I have prayed on it.  I still am praying on it.  It feels right, what I am doing and the plans that we have made.  Potentially a lot of obstacles could be coming up and aside from the fact that I have a tumor and it needs treatment, everything else is falling into place so easily and perfectly that I feel strongly God is putting this path in front of me. Faith is taking the first step when you can't see the whole staircase.  ♥


It's important to have fun, everyday.  My sister went with me to Montreal on Jan 23rd for the markings and boy, did we have fun!  We packed an awful lot of stuff for a one day trip.  It could have been considered stressful, with the train being delayed going down and the risk of missing our train back home but we didn't let it feel like that.  We laughed, we a lot.  As silly as this is, here is a video clip of how to have fun on the train.  Keep lovin' life, every moment you can.  Thanks sis, love you, a lot.

Honoring medical days

Yesterday I went for a CT scan.  Today I begin the travel to Montreal to see my oncologist Dr. Kavan at the Jewish General in Montreal.  I can remember, way back (well, not so way back) when I would pack as much as I could around the test/appointment time and day.  I can clearly remember taking my lap top with me on a test day in Kingston and sitting in the waiting room entering stock definitions into the pricing software for work.  I look back on that memory now and all I can see is a gross mix-up in priorities.  I have changed my thinking since then.  Medical dates are important, I have always thought that.  But how to conduct myself around that date is also important.  It's a stressful time and even though I have become comfortable, used to and usually good at handling these days I recognize that there is a lot going on in my mind and body.  There is physical requirements of the test, such as taking the contrast dye, being hit with radiation from the machine, and the traveling.  And there is lots going on with my emotions and adrenaline.  Now I give myself a break on test days.  I make it a special day, to me it's respecting and honoring myself.  This is hard to put into words.  I guess if I were saying it in words out loud to myself it would go something like this...."today is an important day, you are going for a Ct scan.  Naturally you are going to be feeling anxious about the results of the test, wondering if the scan will confirm good or bad news.  I know the test makes you feel nauseous and upsets your digestive system, that afterwards you have a hard time not binge eating on treats.  To today I am giving you permission, not just permission but an order, to take it slow, do some things you enjoy today and don't think about anything other than being gentle with yourself". 

So today, instead of squeezing in an hour of work before I left I took that extra hour I had in Belleville to do some things I had been wanting to do, like go to TSC and try on overalls to find ones that fit me (gift from Mike from Christmas), have a wee visit with my sister (always fun), then I headed to Kingston and arrived early.  I parked down by the water and walked back to the hospital, poking my head into a couple of interesting shops along the way.  I went in for my test, got my magic drink (the contrast dye) and then went back to Princess street for a bit more exploring.  I returned to the hospital for my test time, chatted and smiled with the other patients and nurses.  After the test I met with my parents and we had dinner together.   Then I bought a coffee and 2 deserts (the after test binge eating that I still do on occasion, I have no idea why, but I do) and drove home listening to some great tunes on the radio.  Test day - a day to be enjoyed.  A gift from me to me.

I was looking for cartoons about waiting rooms and came across this one...it makes me laugh!  All the medical tests and strange body things start to seem normal on a cancer journey and this cartoon seemed to capture the essence of it.  Besides, it's really funny and you gotta laugh at yourself sometimes.  After abdominal surgery I always seem to spend a lot of time focusing on poo :)

Take one step, take one more, take one more....

Today I started back into running - got my butt outside and moved it!  Why today? when I have been meaning to get back into it for months now.  Well, I set a goal and signed up for a run on Mother's Day 2013, the 10K Run for Kids Cure.  Not only that, but we now have a whole team going so I am really committed.  The preparation seems daunting - 16 weeks of a training schedule to follow - 3 days per week.  But today I realized that I should start the same way I start anything that seems overwhelming - by taking one step.  Then one more.  Then another.

"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step."  

 ~ Unknown ~ 

I then got to realizing this is how I get through all difficult things.  I focus on the steps.  Not the whole staircase.  If I look up to the top step is looks too far away, and the climb too steep but if I focus on the first few steps, on even just the next step if need be, then it's manageable.  I am doing that now with the diagnosis of my cancer being back.  The initial shock of the Ct scan results; the tumor by the bladder being detected and the possibility of lung spots has settled down.  I have my next steps and now it's manageable.  I don't know how it's all going to work out but I know I can take a few more steps.

The race belongs not only to the swift and the strong,  
but also to those who just keep running.
~ Unknown ~

I found this prayer on the Cancer Crusade website and it has become a purpose I have taken into my heart ... (http://www.thecancercrusade.com, which has been a source of encouragement, humor and information for me for many years now).

Dear God, help me find that place inside me where there are reserves of strength and courage I have yet to use, and lead me to share that strength and courage with others who are struggling
to find their own.
Amen 

On the Survive and Thrive Expedition this past summer, on the Owhyee river, one morning the group awoke an hour before dawn so we could hike up a seemingly huge mountain to watch the sun rise.  I know all of us were doubting we could make it to the top. It was a quiet group that early morning, as we took it one step at a time.  We reached the top and it was breathtaking, so worth it!  A lesson I aim to remember.  Here are pictures of us hiking up and enjoying the rewards of our efforts. 

Just take a step, have faith and take one more step.  Love, Teresa

Teresa & Mike, Owyhee River, top of the ridge, June 2012