Celebrations and Humble Thanks

We have been spending some time with my family for the last few days,

in anticipation of celebrating my parents' 50th wedding anniversary this weekend.

Tonight we celebrated with dinner as a family - made a few things on our own, picked a few things up, and enjoyed my brother's BBQ'ing skills at home. 

It allowed us to just spend some more time together, looking at pictures, telling stories, laughing, and celebrating the gift of family and 50 years of marriage.

Some more celebrating with friends is yet to come.

It has been so very good to spend time with family instead of on my own at the hospital - feeling like I was pulling Ken away from our girls, but also needing him to be there with me. 

I'm still not moving quickly, but it's more okay if there is time between pain pills.

I can't reach all of the things, but I can reach lots of them.

My girls inspect my staples each night - we're trying to make that as normal as possible. 

They're pretty sure it's gross to have staples in your abdomen, 

but also, it's pretty amazing that God made our bodies to heal the way they do. 

It's coming along.

I baked today. 

Not entirely on my own, but there were hands ready to help where needed and it just made me feel a little more like myself again. 

We have a visit Monday with the surgeon to get the staples removed.

Hopefully, we'll also have a better idea of further referrals at that point.

Continued thanks for all the prayers and encouragement we are receiving. 

We are humbled.

And so very thankful.

Out!

This will be short. It has been a full day and I’m tired.

However, I was discharged today and got to spend the evening playing cards and visiting with my family.

I’m not moving quickly, but I’m moving and we are on the road to recovery. 

God is good. 

And we are thankful.

In Sickness and in Health…

Thank you for all the wonderfully encouraging words and for all the prayers that have been offered for me and for my family; over the last weeks, and specifically for today.

I am so glad that God’s got this. 

Surgery is complete.

The surgeon said it went well and so we are on the way to recovery. 

I had a great nurse at check-in this morning.

The IV was successful on the first try.

My girls were in the most excellent hands.

And I think we’re figuring out a bit of a balance between pain meds and nausea. 

Not the best day of my life, but also with only 1 possible“best” day, it’s tough competition. 😏

I did my best to offer Ken the opportunity to fulfill some of our marriage vows today as we celebrated our anniversary. 

He sat beside me all day, offered me sips of water, ate the hospital food I couldn’t stomach, helped with temperature control, and pretty much did whatever I asked of him. 

“In sickness and in health” isn’t the glamorous part…

but it is the steadfast, loyal expression of love that I am so grateful for - every day - but today in particular.

This was supposed to be a surgery update, but turned into a public anniversary card. 

Sorry.

You get what you get. 

Alternate Reality

It's been a week - and while nothing has changed in the pre-op plans or medical updates, it would be unfair to report nothing when I've said that I would.

One more pre-op on Tuesday and then surgery on Friday. 

Less than a week to go. 

We are spending time with family and some friends - and in some ways nothing about the cancer seems real.

Catching up on life, watching the girls play and laugh and reconnect after another year. 

Escaping escape rooms and drinking coffee upon coffee while picking up after time gone by.

One of my girls voiced what Ken and I had already been talking about the other night - 

"I don't want to leave. 

Then we have to start thinking about cancer and surgery and you." 
And she's not wrong. 

Mostly, I feel pretty good.  

Mostly, there is nothing different about the last 2 weeks of this summer compared to previous summers.

Mostly, we're enjoying staying up late, sleeping in, eating summer snacks, and swimming at the lake.

Mostly.

There are the days when tears come quickly. 

There are moments my body reminds me it isn't well.

There are comments and questions that people wouldn't ask if it wasn't real.

But it is.

And as much as we don't really want to start thinking about 

cancer and surgery and all that other stuff, 

we also want it out.

And in order to get past it, 

we first have to work through it.

And we are thankful,

so very thankful,

that we don't have to work through it alone.

Write This Down!

Sometimes we need reminders.

Sometimes I need reminders.

Like 5 screens worth of alarms on my phone.

A calendar that is linked with work, home, and Ken - all full of reminders of things we need to do or places we need to be. 

As I work my way through pre-op appointments, I have sometimes felt the repetition. What meds are you taking, what are your allergies, have you had previous surgeries? 

But I know they ask to be sure; to confirm and double check. You would hate for something to get missed. 

There is repetition in other places. I have told my story a few times in the last month. ;) 

Trying to keep people updated. 

Trying to remind myself of the truth that one-day-at-a-time is much better for my mental heath than jumping ahead to the what-ifs and yeah-buts. 

I am thankful for the little encouragements along the way. For people who step in and affirm the truths that I see in my good moments and know in my heart but struggle to find in the hard moments. 

With that, 3 pre-ops down, 2 to go. Surgery in 2 weeks. 

I have been given a lot of information. Sometimes knowing a lot is good. Sometimes it's hard. But I also know that I need to process and so having information for me is usually helpful. 

As long as I also remember the truth of what I know. 

One of my favourite verses has always been Revelation 21:5, which reads: "He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

While I believe wholeheartedly in the first part, it's not actually my favourite part.

I like the part that gets at my human-ness - "Write this down!" 

Why? "Because these words are trustworthy and true."

Because in my worries and feeling overwhelmed, I forget.

Because in my world of information and details and other people who also have information and details, I get drawn into more than I can handle. I get pulled into thinking it's on me. Thinking it's all on the date the surgeon picked. Thinking it's all on what symptoms I'm feeling or not feeling. Thinking that I somehow have control of something that is out of my hands. 

God has the details. 

He clothes the lilies of the field and feeds the birds of the air. 

He didn't say, "Write this down," in Matthew 6, but He could have. Because those words are also trustworthy and true. 

Tomorrow has enough worries of its own.

Pre-Op Plans

 It has already been a week - and yet it seems like a long time since I posted last.

The first couple of weeks were full of ups and downs; updates and appts. 

Now that there is a plan, things have slowed down a bit, and for that I am thankful. 

There is still lots to anticipate and be anxious about, but it seems we have the information we need for now and are actually able to make a few plans that are more typical for the first week of July.

Pre-op dates are set. We thought there would be 1 pre-op appointment, but it turns out there are 5. Thankfully, we received dates for all of them within a day of each other. 

The first office sent 4 dates - all of which they set-up as phone appointments when they realized we do not live in Edmonton. That is an amazing gift! 

The second office called and asked when we wanted to come in - it could be any time between now and the surgery date. I asked for it not to be right in the middle, but closer to now or closer to then. She offered early this week. So, that is my only trip to Edmonton between now and surgery. Another reason to be thankful.

The rest of the visits are spread out over the next 2 weeks, but all over the phone. With that as an option, we are still able to connect with some family pre-surgery and fit in some cousin time for our kids. And although it seems like another planning-life-a-day-at-a-time event, it hopefully allows for some "normal" summer time activities, too.

That's all for now.

Surgery Dates and Itinerary Changes

I posted last time that our surgeon said he wanted surgery in early July and that he didn't want to wait longer.

And so we went through the overwhelm of realizing how quick that was - and trying to remind ourselves of how amazing it was that we were going to be able to get in for surgery much sooner than the initial 4 month estimate we had been given.

On Friday, we heard that it will be 2 weeks later than we thought - mid-July - which is still amazingly quick compared to so many others who I know wait a much longer time than this.

It's amazing how what seemed overwhelming and impossible to accept and be grateful for on Monday, became something so disappointing to have changed by Friday. Suddenly I found myself fighting hard to be grateful for a firm date that is still only 6 weeks after we found out about all of this. 

2 weeks later is only 2 more weeks. 

But it changes plans and dates and expectations and ideas about what our "new" summer plans might look like. It changes ideas about things spreading or not spreading, and it asks us once again to take a step back and look at the big picture.

The call from the surgeon's office followed communication earlier that day with our travel agent. 

Ken had initiated a conversation with her earlier that day about how to go about canceling our Zambia tickets; what steps we had to take with insurance, how much we might actually get back, etc.

As God working in the details would have it, 20 minutes before reaching out to the travel agent, Ken had received an email from the airlines we had booked with saying there was a change to the itinerary. He deleted it - why would he need to know about an itinerary update for flights we were canceling?

What he missed in deleting the email is what our travel agent filled him in on shortly afterward.

The itinerary change was big - over 8 hours different - and so, unbeknownst to us, but thankfully known to her, was that means we can cancel our trip without penalties because the new schedule doesn't work for us. 

Coincidence? I don't think so.

And so our jaws had dropped at God's timing; at how He is working in the little details and giving us this gracious gift of a full refund on our trip plans. 

An hour later, the surgeon's office called to let us know our surgery date.

Which was not the date we had expected. 

Which was longer than the surgeon wanted to wait.

Which was an answer to prayer for allowing me to finish out the year with my students.

Which was more the timing we had initially thought - even if our 5-day-old plans had gotten us fixed on something else.

How easy it was to celebrate God's timing and His working in the details with awe and gratitude when it worked out better than we had expected!

How hard it was to accept God's timing and His working in the details with awe and gratitude when it changed what we had our hearts set on; when our plans were not the same as His. 

The trouble is that God's timing and working in the details are just as real in itinerary changes with airlines as they are in scheduling changes with hospitals and surgeons. 

There are other people who have also been anticipating surgery on the dates we thought we might have, who have also been waiting, and who are also afraid and wondering what's next or how things will go.

And so the trouble isn't really trouble at all - unless I take my eyes off of what I know to be true. 

The trouble is actually that it's hard to trust sometimes. 

It's hard to let go of control and to live what I believe when I say that God is faithful; that He holds the details in His hands; that He holds me and us in the grip of His hand. 

He does. And for that I am thankful. 

I am reminded again that He provides what we need for each day.

"Give us this day our daily bread."

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly....

Seems cliche, but also, I need a starting point.

My grade 3's are working on narratives and ensuring we catch the reader's attention from the start.

So, let's start with The Ugly. 

The bruises on my arm from the attempts at an IV site last week are ugly. 

But, on the bright side, they are less ugly than yesterday.

Healing is taking place, and hopefully they'll be gone by the time I get new ones.

The Good...

We were able to meet with the surgeon today. 

He was running ahead of schedule and we were brought in 20 minutes early.

He is hoping to do the surgery in early July. 

He wants the cancer out as soon as possible and while it is still contained.

This is a huge answer to prayer.

He was kind and thorough and gave us as much information as I think he could with what he knows and has seen.

His team will work with me pre-op to figure out details of diabetes management during surgery and early recovery.

The Bad...

While in our minds, we knew our trip to Zambia was out, it is officially off the table as recovery is, at best, 6-8 weeks.

He also had to tell us all the possibilities of things that might not go as planned - which is good - but also makes my brain live in more of full-time-adult mode instead of allowing it to rest in faith-like-a-child mode.

Pre-op might already happen before the end of the school year. I want to spend the last few days of school with "my kids". Those days are precious. I don't want to miss them and have a sub there in my place. Even if I have a great sub.

It is an estimated 6-8 days in hospital following surgery. 

That's a long time for our family to not all be under one roof when stressful stuff is going on.

There will likely be chemo to follow. Which is probably good, but also comes with a lot more unknowns, and I feel like we have enough of those right now. That being said, our doctor satisfied our questions and helped us work through some details.

There are lots of other things that my brain is spinning on tonight, but for now, that's the update. 

We are thankful for all the great people loving on us and our kids. 

We are thankful for amazing answers to prayer and doctors that care.

We are thankful for people that reach out, even if we don't give great answers for now.

Time for some report cards. They are not finished yet. 

Believe it or not, I haven't been able to focus on those the last week. :)

God is faithful and will provide for this, too.

Where to Start....

For those who are just jumping on this train, a few quick details to get you on track... 

- Colonoscopy last Wed. (June 3) 

- Dr. told us it was concerning - likely cancer - and what the list of next steps/appts would likely be. 

- Results confirmed Friday (June 5) 

- Dr. called us Sunday afternoon to go over results and let us know that Monday morning he'd be contacting Diagnostic Imaging to ensure that my CT scan was marked as urgent, as well as contacting the Colorectal Surgeon in Edmonton to get the ball rolling. 

- Monday afternoon I had a call from CT people asking me to come Tuesday morning at 9. 

- Tuesday morning - CT scan - results look pretty good from what we can see on our online portal, but no official word from dr. yet. 

- Thursday morning - phone call from surgeon's office in Edm. They want me to come for an appt on Monday afternoon already. We will hopefully find out more then about dates/plans/etc.

Here we are. 

In the last few days, I think we have said, "One day at a time..." more than we have in our lifetime. 

And yet, it really is where we want to start. 

We have seen God's faithfulness and provision already and are so thankful for the doctor who did Wednesday's scope. 

I had never met him before, and yet he has been my biggest advocate - giving me as much info as he could right from the get go. 

Getting CT ordered already on Friday, calling us on a Sunday afternoon, contacting CT/Surgeon right away on Monday - and the ball is definitely rolling. 

There are more people praying than we can count, and I am repeatedly being assured of God's presence in this journey. 

As Christians, we talk about how God didn't just make the world and then leave us here, but how He is actively working among us. 

He promises that He is always with us and will never leave us or forsake us. 

And we see Him actively working. 

I know that He loves me and that he is both good and gracious. 

He provides what we need for each day. 

Repeating those truths to the 8 and 9 year olds that I teach has helped me remember that we are called to have faith like a child. 

Adults worry.

Adults jump ahead. 

Adults know all the bad things and the brokenness and we easily go there. 

8 and 9 year olds accept more readily the truth that God loves us and walks with us. 

That He is faithful and He promises to give us what we need for each day. 

8 and 9 year olds celebrate answered prayers of a teacher who is absent already the day after all of this news because our prayers have been heard and the test we needed is happening! 

They aren't afraid to talk about why cancer is a scary word. 

Or ask, "How's your cancer?" 

They ask the big questions like, "Why did you get cancer?" 

And they let us step back into the childlike faith that we have in the context of understanding this broken world. 

We talked about tears and hard days and how those things are real. 

They are a part of this journey already and will continue to be. 

But they come in the context of our God who gets us through the hard days; 

Who is saddened by the brokenness in this world, and who longs for us to be whole. 

So, welcome, if you are here to walk alongside us. 

I/we will be try to update here. 

This has always been more of a reflective place for me. 

And as I sat to put some details on paper, it already turned out to be more reflective than informative. 

I make no promises about what it will be or become. 

However, for today, it is a space to help me keep up more easily. 

We can't possibly manage the gift of all the people who love us and want to walk this journey with us. 

So we will try this. 

Thanks for your prayers. 

Thanks for your encouragement. 

Thanks for being the hands and feet of Jesus and being a physical reminder that we are not alone.

Christmas Cookies in October

Funny what it takes to get a girl to start writing again.
It's been awhile.
And yet, this seems like where I belong.

I lost a friend this week.
He started as a teacher,
A peer support mentor.
Then a parent of the kids I babysat,
and the one whom I spent lots of time making small talk with
on rides to and from his house to watch them.
Then he was a colleague,
and a friend.

I didn't really know how it was going to hit me
if it came to this.
I knew he was a fighter,
and he was determined,
and the doctor's reports always seemed good.

But the last few days have left me fairly unmotivated to do much.
I keep rethinking conversations and memories.
Not the memories you think you'll have.
But funny ones.
Like me being too tired to know what he asked me on the way home from a babysitting job and making something up, only to have him respond with, "You don't know?" to a question that should have been as simple as what my name was.
Or making cookies with his girls and having him comment on the "killer icing" - pretty sure because it was crazy sweet, and not crazy good.

Other memories, too.
Like being told that I didn't have to ask for his approval so often on a project I worked on for him  because he trusted me.
Having supper together when he came to Winnipeg for workshops
and getting to connect again.

He was a listener.
A question asker.
He had a dry, witty sense of humour.
The video about snow-brushing the wrong car? I saw that in one of his workshops.
He was kind. Always welcoming and caring.
Never saying something to put someone else down.
He had a gentle laugh.
And an incredible ability to see the world through the lens of Scripture.
The most abstract concept -
and he'd be able to find a Biblical viewpoint - or at least ask the right questions.

I found myself baking Christmas cut-out cookies today.
In October.
In the midst of days where I've felt tired and overwhelmed.
And certainly not something I would want to try with my 2 year old.
But for some reason today, I made a double batch.
I had both girls help.
Like I used to do with his girls.
We didn't get past the baking to the decorating.
Cutting out was enough of a challenge - as I remember it being when his girls were small.
There was no "killer icing".
But it brought me to tears.
And I was suddenly playing memory after memory over in my head.
Regretting not having done more or checking in more often.
Remembering how humble and gracious he was with his girls.
And knowing how much they're going to miss him.
How much they already do.
And just feeling sad.
Even though I know his struggle is over.
His days of feeling like less than he was and could be are finished.
He is whole, and cancer free.

The restoration he's been dreaming about -
doing speed builds and brainstorming about competing stories -
finally coming to the glory of how God intended and intends for it to be;
Home and whole
and full of delight.

He's missed.