Let's Catch Up!

A few folks expressed concern since I haven't written in a couple of weeks (that's mighty kind of you, thanks).  I tend not to write much if I don't feel God putting anything relevant on my heart to write.  Not sure how much of God's hands are on today's entry but I did want to check in with everyone, especially with those of you who don't have Facebook to see which cat picture I "liked" today to know I'm OK:

It was this one

• I am excited to be able to cook again and move around like a normal person.  God willing the obscene level of upper body swelling that monopolized December, 2012 will never return ever never ever again.  While a year ago I might have taken offense, I've never been more excited to hear  one of my beloved nurses beam with pride and shout "YOU HAVE A NECK!" upon seeing my progress. 
• My weekly mid-morning dose of pre-med IV Benadryl - my imaginary trip to the beach - has turned into a spastic leg twitchin' party.  It's amazing how the body can react differently to the same drug once it becomes familiar with it. 
• Two weeks in a row and my chemo port has been working like a champ!  God and radiology department, thank you!  I explained in a previous post that the chemo port was surgically implanted in my upper right chest, under the skin to make the delivery of chemo and blood transfusions (blood work in general) easier.  A simple needle (either the small needle or the harpoon) is inserted into the port before chemo delivery and removed once the necessary procedure is complete.  I pray weekly for the small needle. 
• I used to fear big, furry spiders.  Now I fear your cough.  If you sneeze on me, I might smack you in the mouth (consider it an open palm of Purell and love).  Please don't dismiss the flu shot.  I got it for my health this and previous years, and not just for me, but for the health of those around me.  20 kids are dead.  20 kids will never celebrate another birthday in this country because of the stinking FLU! 
• Eyebrows?  Check.  Eyelashes?  Check.  Mustache?  Check.  Scalp hair?  Scalp hair?  Makeup?  Check!  Shiny brooch bling on my hats? CHEEEECK!
• My nephew (Christmas Eve post) has been aware of my illness now for a couple of weeks and asked minimal questions of my brother during their talk.  My only regret right now is that I can't attend his sporting events.  An enclosed gymnasium packed with 10 year old boys?  I might as well stick my hands in a Holland Tunnel gas station toilet and rub my eyes.

I'll tell you what threw me for a little loop in this whole process - My pharmaceutically changed taste buds. I've had a 37 year love affair with food.  I married a man who loves to travel with me just to eat.  Even as a child, the most basic stuff - a freshly mashed ripe banana or a good roasted sweet potato would satisfy my baby belly.  Now?  I could throw a sweet potato against a wall, they're useless to me.  Banana?  Ick.  The saddest?  A truly gifted home cook prepared what I know had to be a divine baked spinach dip recently.  Unfortunately all my mouth detected was cardboard and bland cream cheese. 

Overall, despite the big and small challenges, God continues to answer our prayers for joy and peace. I thank you for your continued prayers for healing for me and others in your life facing similar challenges.  You're in my prayers everyday!

Here's a little Matt Maher "Alive Again", just 'cause:

Just Trust

This week brought us a (drum roll please).....

TOTALLY UNEVENTFUL 

TREATMENT DAY!! 

My hemoglobin was at a 9, my port worked immediately and we were in and out in 4-5 hours.  Thank You Lord!!  The experience was dramatically different than previous weeks, most recently the week prior. 

God is certainly working on me and my imperfections and I am humbled and so thankful for His gentle instruction.  Last week He mercifully showed me another area I was lacking and needed His help with...

"Wakey, Wakey!!".  It was the day after Christmas.  Lou got me up a little after 5am.  Morning person I am not, especially when outside of my window, I see the same darkness as when I went to sleep.  I had to be at treatment by 7am, the same time the treatment facility's elevators start running.  To my delight, I was the 3rd patient to check in and by 7:30am I was called to phlebotomy for vitals.  At 9:30am my name was announced for chemo.  Lou and I quickly turned to each other, beaming from ear to ear, like two contestants on the Price is Right.  Did Johnny Olsen really just announce "AMY AND LOU COME ON DOOOOOWWWNNN!"?  I stood from my seat, began to walk forward and joking with another early bird patient, raised my arms in the air, a champion.  Maybe today's the day we can feel normal and go to Chinatown for veggie dim sum or afternoon tea when we're through.  The day is young!

Wait for it...

While I got comfortable in the private chemo room's recliner, my nurse reviewed my vitals.  I'll paraphrase and give you her Cliff's Notes. "Your hemoglobin is 7.6.  We want you at an 8.  Blah, blah blood transfusion (which takes 4 hours minimum) starts at 4:30pm. Blah, blah, let's also get a port study done at 2:30pm."

I wish I could say my first thoughts were "Great!  I'll have more energy after a transfusion" and "Yes!  Let's get down to the bottom of this port business."  But they weren't.  I waited for the nurse to leave the room before I started to cry.  Lou reassured me it was OK but in my mind, we were so close to just chemo'ing up and gettin' out.  You know when the little things start adding up and you feel like you're hitting your breaking point?  Physically I was exhausted and emotionally at that moment, I felt alone, bound in an imaginary straitjacket, struggling to get out. God, I just wanted a fun day with my husband. 

Hey Princess - Yes, I'm talking to me.  Today isn't a punishment, it's for my own good!  Zephaniah 3:17 - The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.  Am I trusting God as much as I think I am?  Do I understand that He's in control of this entire trial, down to the tiniest details?  Have I really been giving this all to God? 

Apparently, no. 

I'm the toddler giving her Father her broken toy to fix, and then rushing back to take it from His hands when He doesn't fix it as fast as baby girl thinks He should - even though it will remain broken in her own incapable hands.  OK Lord.  Let's work on this.

The Bible, the Word of God contained in 66 amazing books, overflows with power to guide, encourage and strengthen us.  Let's get a sampling to see what it says about our issue of the day, "trust":

• Psalm 91:2 - I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”
• Psalm 56:3 - When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.
• Proverbs 3:5 - Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
• Romans 15:13 - May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

God reminded me of another time I needed to trust Him.

A while back, a seemingly perfect new job opportunity came my way during a time of difficult leadership with an employer.  Several people recommended me for the position.  My years of personal and professional experience was perfect for what they were looking for.  It paid a little less than the job I had, but I was willing to make a "quality of life" move.  I prayed, took a chance and sent my resume in.  An HR rep would e-mail one of their staffers who recommended me that they couldn't even consider my resume.  The one pre-requisite they felt they couldn't do without, which had absolutely nothing to do with the job, was a 4 year degree and I was a college drop out.  In an instant, I felt insignificant and regretted my decision to have left school years earlier.  But if God wanted me to have that job, I would have had that job, just like I got a previous job requiring a degree.  Surely the door was shut for a reason.  I prayed, feeling a little trapped where I was and gave my employment concerns to God.  Several months later, leadership changed for the better where I was working. The position I applied for months earlier, which they never filled, was completely eliminated, leaving other folks I respected out of work.  WOW!  God knew what was coming and He protected me.  Maybe we need to look at these trials of ours, big and small, with different eyes.

When we embrace the challenges we face and just submit to God our 100% of every area in our lives, He'll bring our trust, peace, faith and joy to new heights.  When we make a conscious decision to say "yes" to Jesus, radical things happen, regardless of what we're going through in life.  2 Corinthians 5:17 - Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!

Just to note, two days after my last transfusion, Lou and I had our fun day out at Cha An, one of our favorite little tea houses in Manhattan.  God knew the port and transfusion had to be dealt with before we could have a good time out together, and so that I could also enjoy an uneventful treatment day this week.

A Very Three's Company Christmas Eve

I've come to realize that with the exception of my soft hooded knit wrap, I just don't like things on my head.  I was never a hat person and it doesn't matter how loose I adjust a cap, it feels as though everything squeezes my head like an orange in an old fashioned juicer.  I'll wear a hat for warmth if I'm out, and rip it off of my thinning head the minute I step foot in the car or house.  My wig has been in a plastic ziptop bag since I purchased it, removed only to jokingly model for friends and family, then promptly returned to the sealed pouch.  The more I would take it out and display it, the more I realized I didn't care for the whole idea of it.  I knew for Christmas Eve however, I'd have to put my big girl pants on and wear the "Aunt Millie" wig. 

My brother made an appeal and Lou and I agreed that we wouldn't share my illness with his son until after Christmas.  Up until this point, there was no reason to say anything.  Did my 9 year old nephew need to know his Aunt was having a hysterectomy and would skydive into menopause back in May?  No.  But we agree, with my changing appearance, he's entitled to some information. 

Not unlike a lot of kids, our nephew has always been one keen observer.  When he was 4, nephew and his dad visited our always dapper, now late, Great Uncle Tony, who may have been caught off guard by their earlier than expected visit.   Nephew took one look at Uncle Tony and asked him where his teeth were.  When Uncle Tony replied "They're in the bathroom", my brother's mini-me asked Uncle Tony to go into the bathroom and put his teeth in his mouth.  Want to know if those pants make you look fat?  Ask him, he'll gently tell you.  Nephew is his father's son.  He'll bust your chops if you let him, he's quick with a joke, and he's a love who takes a lot to heart, quietly carrying the burdens of those around him.  And now, after years of shoulder length brown hair, I'm supposed to parade around in front of him and try to pass off a reddish brown old lady wig, tapered to my neck, as my own hair to essentially hide my chemo crew cut.  Knowing him, he'd sooner accept my honest thin pixie hair.  Goodness gracious.  Whatever I've gotten myself into, can I be Chrissy Snow? 

There are two stiff tabs in the back of the wig at the nape of the neck and one on either side, like sideburns, to help guide the wearer where certain points should sit on the head.  Convenient and irritating.  Lou and I arrived at my parents house early so Mom and I could attempt to style the wig.  Mom likes big hair.  I like flat hair.  "Jo, put that bottle if hair spray down!"  A little hair tucked behind the ears, a few strands around my cheeks and it was almost passable in dim light.  No matter how much I wrestled with my conscious, it was too late.  My brother's family was now at the door and Jack Tripper was ready to let them in.  I had the wig on for all of 20 minutes and my scalp was already screaming for air and a scratch.

I made sure to greet my nephew with a standing hug out of fear the wig would shift if he got near my neck.  As soon as I sat down, he glanced at my head and then directly into my eyes before he took his seat across the living room. "The jig is up! He knows!" I thought.  My brother would later tell me his son commented flatly "Aunt Amy has a new hairstyle."  My brother didn't ask if nephew liked the "new" doo, but I can tell by his choice of words nephew snubbed his nose at it.

For the rest of the day, every time my nephew turned his head, I was either scratching or re-adjusting the wig to make sure the guide points were in its place.  I'd catch my sister-in-law's eyes while giving the wig a shift and laugh. Lou would spot me making quick adjustments and give me the "You're making it worse" look from across the room.  I felt a little tired and wanted to nap on the recliner, but couldn't help envision shifting my head in the high back chair and popping the wig off in mid-snore.  I can rest later.

By dinner my scalp was on fire.  I started fantasizing about the soft cap that could have sat comfortably underneath the wig...had I remember to order it.  If etiquette allowed, I would have tucked my fork under the wig and had at it. 

As desert ended, with less than an hour to go before he had to leave, nephew stood at the end of the table, looked me square in the eyes and asked me "Are you sick?".  My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.  My voice happened to be a little hoarse and I simply replied "Yes".  Was this the start of an interrogation?  Fortunately, it wasn't.  He just accepted the answer and walked away.  Lou put his arm around me and encouraged me to keep it together.  He could tell the pressure of carrying on this charade for 4 hours was eating away at me. 

I'll ask for all to refrain from judgment on this entry (no judgments on this blog in any event).  Nephew is at a stage in life where he just stopped believing in Santa Claus and he's learning that life's not fair.  Oh, to be 9 again...

Christmas Eve Blessed Assurance

Sweet, merciful Savior
Who fulfilled the prophecies of coming Messiah
Who knows our suffering like no other

Who bridged the divide between God and man

You fill my being with peace the moment Your name exits my lips
You've pulled me from the depths of sorrow
Commanding me to love and never fear

Thank You for Your birth!
Thank You for Your death!
Thank You for Your Resurrection!
Thank You for Everlasting Life!

"Blessed Assurance"
Fanny Crosby (1820-1915)
Performed by The Isaacs

My Guest Blog! My Father Cancelled Christmas

I'm a member of two great supportive websites for individuals and young adults fighting and surviving cancer - Stupid Cancer and I Had Cancer. I highly recommend both if you or someone you love is faced with the disease (and I pray you never need them!).  There are certainly many other great sites out there, but I took a personal liking to these two.

It's through YOUR encouragement, love and support my dear family and friends, to keep writing, that I submitted my blog for consideration to I Had Cancer as a guest blogger.  I was asked to consider an entry about Christmas and several weeks ago, submitted the following (events took place during my second chemo treatment).  I thank them very much for the opportunity to encourage others through their site. You can find the edited version on the I Had Cancer website here:  My Father Cancelled Christmas

Below is the full submission (you may recall the antipasta table goody list from my White Hostess Wonder Bread and Christmas Antipasto entry).  I just noticed I spelled antipasta two ways.  Either way I write it, it's always delicious!
____________________________________________________________________________________
My father is a spectacular home cook and a master of the Italian Christmas feast.  Days before the main event he’s perfecting his red sauce and meatballs, frying eggplant and creating succulent, rich lasagna.  Dad works like an animal to make sure everyone has a spectacular meal and a great time. For our family, Christmas is about the birth of our Savior, time together and stuffing our faces until we can’t see straight.

He’s meticulous when he lays out his assortment of proper wine stemware across my mother’s antique deserter.  And to watch him assemble the glorious antipasta table – the meal before the meal – is like watching a true craftsman at work. 

The antipasta table doesn’t offer seating, rather, we prefer to huddle 20 people around a 6 foot table loaded with petite dishes offering selections of  imported prosciutto and cured meats; fresh buffalo mozzarella, tomato and basil; marinated mushrooms; roasted peppers and artichokes; fresh breads, crackers and cheeses; olives and tapenades.  Everything you need to give your pending food coma a solid foundation.

Standing around the antipasta table is where you’re greeted with love, hugs and kisses as family make their way into my childhood home.   Sweet nieces and nephews sit by the tree with a few adults, constructing their gifts.  Sports scores and hearty laughter echoes throughout the house as we all shout stories between rooms. 

Within a few hours the herd moves upstairs for the main event.  You loosen your pants, waddle to a seat and get ready for more.  Desert, coffee and cordials naturally follow dinner, as the matriarchs tidy up and prepare their voices for a bloated chorus of horribly terrific off-key caroling.  My cousin picks up the best Italian Rainbow cookies from Little Italy each year and I’ve carried on the tedious tradition of making the Struffoli, tiny fried balls of dough saturated in orange infused honey.  It’s not Christmas in an Italian home without Struffoli and a table of over the top pastries.

At the end of the night, as half of us drool in an armchair, nodding off for a nap, out comes the loose change.  It's poker time, Cousins vs. Uncles. 

Christmas with my family is simply spectacular.

I was sitting back Wednesday night.  Chemo dripping away.  TV remote in one hand, ham sandwich in another, enjoying the company of my husband and Dad when the bomb dropped.

"We're not having Christmas this year" Dad casually stated.

I’m normally a very rational thinking, considerate person, but if ever I wanted to throw a diva toddler tantrum it was now.  "Who has the audacity to cancel a holiday on an entire family?!  This is ludicrous.  Is it even up for discussion?"

"It's done.  Canceled" replied Dad.

“Are you freaking kidding me?!”  This is madness!   I’m a 36 year old married woman with a mortgage and two cats.  I think I’m entitled to an opinion here.

My dad is a two time colon cancer survivor and if anyone understands how sacred and special each day is, it’s him.  My parents and my husband are my caregivers.  As irate as I was, I had to put the brakes on my anger, take a step back and appreciate that they’re physically and emotionally exhausted.  I've been in and out of the hospital three times over the past month.  Once for Deep Vein Thrombosis, one stay for a pulmonary embolism and most recently this past weekend for a fall due to a lousy throat infection.   As much as we strive to find the humor and blessings in our situation, we’ve been through hell lately.   While I’ll miss our extended family, I have to recognize the sacrifices my caregivers make for me every day and allow us all to have some down time this Christmas.  A scaled down day certainly doesn’t mean we won’t eat well.  Knowing my parents, and I’m so grateful for them, they’ll find a way to make this Christmas memorable and special. 

My First Crew Cut

 I had a hat on but you get the idea.

 

I just had the single most empowering hair cut of my life.  My beloved hair stylist, Gina, and her co-workers turned what could have been a traumatic experience for any woman into a celebration. I am so grateful for them!  Lou and I eagerly watched as Gina cut down my mess of a doo and buzzed away the fray into a neat haircut any Army NCO would be proud of.  To quote a beaming Lou, my 20 year part-time Soldier and combat veteran husband, "Congratulations on your first regulation haircut".  I never enlisted but thanks honey.  I fully expect bald spots and total scalp at some point but for now, I'm digging the shortest cut of my life.  Matthew 6:34 - Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

I showed Gina my wig and honestly, I preferred the crew cut and one of my new hats.  As soon as I get the hang of styling the wig, I'll post a pic but I thought I looked like someone's Great Aunt Millie with it on.  We all knew a Millie. The Aunt who loved her house coats, got her hair done once a week and wrapped it in toilet paper every night.  She went to 7am Mass every morning and always had a meatball at the ready.  The world needs more Great Aunt Millie's.

Speaking of Aunts, I suddenly missed my Aunt Patty and Aunt Diane.  They were called home to heaven several years ago and they both rocked a short cut.  Beautiful and loving women, their personalities were larger than life; there was never a dull moment or a missed opportunity to be loved or laugh when they were around.  The world needs more Aunt Patty's and Aunt Diane's.  I think they would have approved of the cut.

Vanity, oh Vanity!

Since last Wednesday my head has been shedding everywhere I go.  Fortunately I started out with 90 lbs of crazy, curly hair.  In one short week its become more of a cleaning nuisance than anything else.  With each wash or stroke of a brush, I toss clumps of hair the size of a small rodent into the trash. Fortunately having two cats, we have tons of tape lint rollers all over the house but I'm getting tired of rolling my own hair off of my shoulders. I have a hair appointment today to cut it all off. 

My lady Sicilian mustache however appears to be in tact.  God, your sense of humor never ceases to amaze me.  Eyebrows are holding on for now!

The swelling in my upper body is sloooooowly coming down, but it appears we're moving in the right direction.  I'll take every tiny improvement I can get my fat little hands on.  The extra weight causes me to walk a cross between the Stay Puft Marshmallow man and Godzilla, but if you saw me in the hospital a few weeks ago when I had my infection, I could barely feed myself. It's an improvement. I have to take each step slowly and with purpose.  For a woman who has always been on the go, go, go, it's been a massive adjustment and I have no choice but to roll with it.  I've accepted my new job while out on disability, and I do it very well - I'm the official couch recliner lounger and living room snail walking champ of the Lynch house.

I thank you for your prayers and ask, as God puts me on your heart, to continue to intercede and ask God for a complete healing, should that be His Will.  If you're going through something and would like me to pray for you, please let me know.  It would be my pleasure!  And please - don't compare your concerns to someone else's.  It's all relative and we're all faced with different levels of suffering in the course of our lives.  No prayer request is too big or small for a mighty God - He cares about them all.

John 14:27 - Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.