Sarah's Story

To the Army of Angels

2011-11-24T06:51:00.001-08:00

One thing people say a lot when they learn you've beenthrough cancer treatment is "Oh, you're so strong." Not that this isa bad thing to say, but the truth is, no one gets though cancer treatment withoutan army of supporters. I've been thinking a lot lately about all the people whohelped me while I was going through treatments and surgeries. On thisThanksgiving, I want to recognize the army of angels who comforted, encouraged,assisted, and healed me.

Keith

He sacrificed everything to take care of the kids and me,including a year of school. He loved me and told me I was pretty even when myskin was green and I didn’t have hair. He held me in his arms and stroked myhair when I was scared, and reassured me countless times that I would behealed. He took the kids fishing and camping so I could rest. He endured theburdens and stress that come with having a sick spouse and three little kids.He is my best friend and the love of my life. I don’t know what I’d do withouthim, even now that I’m well.

Dad

After my first chemo treatment, my dad became my chemobuddy. He’d drop me off, go to work, then come take me home when I was done.When he had the day off he’d sit in the chemo room with me and talk to me,taking my mind off the stuff dripping into my veins. He brought me cream ofcauliflower soup from Zupas and whatever else I felt like eating. He stayed with meovernight in the hospital after surgery when Keith had to be at home with thekids so I wouldn’t have to be alone. One night I stayed at my parents becauseKeith took the kids down to St. George. It was in the middle of my chemotreatments, and all the horrible effects were starting to kick in. I wasterrified, and I went to the bathroom and cried my eyes out, feeling utterly aloneand hopeless. A little voice reminded me I wasn’t alone, reminded me I had afriend in my Dad. I went to his room and talked to him, then asked him for apriesthood blessing. He put his hands on my head and spoke words of comfortthat could have only come from a loving Heavenly Father, and I was grateful tohave a friend in my Dad that night. Of all my family, my dad could relate to mysuffering the most, as he’d just undergone a grueling six-month treatmentcalled interferon that made him as sick as the chemo made me. He also came overand fixed stuff in my house. Thanks for everything, Dad.

Mom

Mom was there to make sure I didn't have to worry aboutanything but getting better. She cleaned my house, helped with bills, bought meall sorts of things to cover my bald head, new pajamas and a comfortable bed.She planted my yard with colorful flowers so that I would have somethingbeautiful to look at in the spring. She made me chicken noodle soup and broughtme anything I wanted to eat. But most of all, she did what a mother does best:she loved me, encouraged me, told me that everything was going to be okay.

My brother Dan

One day as I was sitting at the cancer center with a needlein my arm, watching Taxol drip into my veins, my mom called and said that Jonashad pushed a bead up his nose and she couldn't get it out. She was frazzled andupset – three little kids to take to the instacare, one of them cryinghysterically, and their mother – her daughter, miles away hooked up to an IV.My brother Dan happened to show up to mow our lawn, and he met my mom at theinstacare. He took Graham and changed his diaper, then spent the rest of thetime trying to calm Jonas by making jokes about all the things he himself hadgotten stuck up his nose (I believe this included a rhinoceros, and then hetried to shove Graham up his nose, which finally got Jonas laughing). He was anangel that day. He comforted my mom, me, and my children. He also came over onSaturdays to mow the lawn and fix things around the house to take some weightoff Keith's shoulders. Dan, you’re the best brother a girl could ask for.

My sister-in-law Shellece

Shellece took care of my kids, cleaned and organized myhouse, folded laundry, did fun activities with the kids, and helped the kidsmake a cute get-well poster for me when I was in the hospital after one of mysurgeries.

My Children

My sweet little boys gave me a reason to fight. They neededme. They kept me upright when I wanted to lie down and wallow in despair. Theytold me they loved me even when I couldn’t be the mother they deserved. Theycomforted me when no one else could. One night I was feeling really sick and Icouldn’t sleep because I was hurting so much. Graham woke up crying, so I wentand got him out of his crib and held him in the rocker in his room. He fellback asleep, and nothing could have comforted me more that night than watchingmy sweet little baby sleeping peacefully in my arms.

My sister Mishca

Mishca helped clean my house, babysat, brought over dinners,and listened to me when I needed someone to talk to. I love you, Mishca, and I admire so much about you.

Keith's sister Kim

Kim was my angel the week after I had my mastectomy. Shestayed at our house and took care of the kids, made me fruit smoothies, helpedme change my dressings and did everything else I needed, all while studying forher final exams to become a nurse practitioner.

Keith's mom Linda

Linda came up for a week and stayed with us during chemo.She cooked and cleaned, and sewed me a dozen head scarves from fabric I'dpicked out. They turned out to be my favorite and most comfortable scarves.

Ramona Whitaker

My sweet neighbor Ramona used to come over every few days tosit on the patio swing with me and talk. She'd recently lost her son, who wasmy age, and so we would comfort each other by talking about everything we werefeeling. She always had something to share to bring me comfort and strength forthe rest of the day.

Kim Blanchard

Kim was a neighbor and two-time breast cancer survivor, andwhen I first received my diagnosis, she came over and talked to me for over anhour, answering my questions and sharing her own experience. Throughout mytreatments, she was one of the few who truly understood what I was goingthrough. She called me on one of my worst days and let me cry and vent, and shealways seemed to know what to say to make me think positively.

Countless friends who took care of my children, and who emailed,mailed cards, gave me gifts or posted to my blog. Your words encouraged andinspired me, made me feel loved and supported, like I wasn't fighting thebattle alone. Candice Carbine, Becca Brough, Stacy Haight (who gave me the ideato blog in the first place), Valerie Sorensen, Tracy Benites, Monica Susaeta,Krystal Hazlett, John Gottschall, Angie Melton, Chelsea Forsythe, Kim Porter,Alicia Ferrer…just to name a few. There are many, many more!!! There were alsomany neighbors who brought us meals, prayed for us, encouraged us, and babysat.

My visiting teachers and home teachers

Jill Miller was one of my visiting teachers, and she watchedmy kids on countless occasions, and she was always there when I needed her. Myhome teachers, Paul Nutt and Justin Berg, came over more than once to give meblessings late at night, even though they had their own families to take care of.

Aunts/cousins

I received multiple packages in the mail from my AuntMarilee, my cousins Melissa, Misty, Grace, and Amanda, filled with tear-invokingcards, books, and a large stuffed pig whose sole purpose in life was to comfortme.

Cindy Ferguson

She was friend of Keith’s that I’d never met. She’s an artistand makes beautiful, intricate paper cuttings. She gave Keith a copy of one ofher pieces to give to me, entitled “Woman with an issue of blood,” whichdepicts the woman who believed that if she touched the hem of the Savior’sclothing, she would be healed. She was healed through her faith in Christ. Iframed and hung this picture in my bedroom, and when I was going throughtreatment I’d look at it every day. It reminded me to have faith that Christhad the power to heal me, and it brought me hope and strength to get througheach day.

It's been two years since my last chemo treatment, and I'm grateful to still be cancer-free! But I wouldn't have gotten through the fight without the love and support of my friends and family. On this Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for you!!!

Thankful

2010-11-25T22:24:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

What have I been up to these last three months? Everything except updating my blog, that's what! Here are some of the things I've been doing:

We went to St. George and Zion National Park with my entire family - Parents, brother, sister, and their families. We had fun hiking, shopping, and playing candy poker. I lost all my candy because I suck at poker, but my brother had pity on me and gave me some of his.

We got two kittens. That's right, two. We got the orange one first, but he was a stray and terrified of people at first, so he spent most of the time hiding under the bed. So we got the gray tabby thinking, she'll show him how to be a normal cat, or at least give him someone to hang out with while he hides under the bed all day. Now they both come out to snuggle, but only after the boys go to bed. Why are they so afraid of three little boys? Maybe it's Liam's screaming. Or Graham's stomping. Or Jonas' flailing arms.

Pumpkin carving. Need I say more? Keith did the awesome one on the right, I did the "fire face" on the left per Liam's request. Yah, I know, Keith's is eight million times better. But mine is more scary, right?

The first day it snowed, the boys insisted we go outside and build snowmen. They melted that afternoon, but they were fun while they lasted.

On this Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that I wake up each morning and breathe. I'm thankful for the strength I have to fold clothes and prepare meals and change diapers. For the time I get to spend with my family doing fun things. For hair. Curly, short hair. For my sweet, funny, hardworking husband. I love my life and I feel so blessed.

First Kidder

2010-08-26T00:38:00.000-07:00

I know what you're saying. "What? She changed her background again? And her blog title? Can't she decide on an image and stick with it? I feel so disoriented." Well, just to warn you, I'm still not happy with the background, so I will probably change it again. : )

About a year ago when I first started chemo treatment, I had a dream that I walked Jonas to kindergarten. It was a very comforting dream, because at the time, I wasn't sure if I would live long enough to ever be able to walk him to school.

Yesterday, my dream came true. I tucked some freshly sharpened pencils and new erasers in Jonas' backpack, sat Liam and Graham in the double stroller, and walked Jonas to school. I watched him skip happily in front of me, and we didn't even make it to the school before my chin started quivering.

He lined up with all the other kindergartner's, and he beamed with excitement as I joined the parental paparazzi, snapping pictures from every possible angle. Behind my sunglasses, a couple tears escaped, but I held it together to avoid being stereotyped as a "first-kidder." But as soon as the teacher led all the kids into the school, I dashed away, and made it to the street before I started sobbing. It wasn't just that my first little boy was grown up enough to go to school - it was that I lived to see him go to school. I said a silent prayer on my way home, thanking God for allowing me to take my little Jonas to school.

When I got home, I went in the back yard with Liam and Graham, and I lay down under a tree. It's become one of my favorite things to do. When I was getting radiation treatments, on the ceiling above the machine, they had a picture of flowering cherry branches hanging over a blue sky. It was winter at the time, and I used to imagine that it was springtime, that I was actually lying beneath a tree, and that I was well. Now that I am well, I love to lie under trees and look at the sky through the branches. Call me weird if you want. I guess I just appreciate simple pleasures more than I used to...

Life is good, I feel great, and I continue to hope for the best!

Checking In

2010-07-10T09:42:00.000-07:00

It's been a couple months since I've blogged, but that's a good thing because it means I don't have much to report. A couple weeks ago I had the lumps in my back biopsied, and they turned out to be "benign connective tissue." So now, after an x-ray, ultrasound, biopsy, and five doctors telling me it's nothing, I feel I can finally lay the issue to rest.

I had my second reconstructive surgery on Thursday, July 8th, and I am pleasantly surprised at how much less painful it was than the mastectomy. Other than throwing up five times from the anesthesia, it's been smooth sailing. I can't lift anything for a couple weeks, but at least the pain is manageable.

As of July 13 I will have 8 months NED (no evidence of disease). The longer I have NED, the smaller the chances are that it will ever come back. After 3 years, I can say I am cured. I look forward to that day!

I have been feeling great, pretty much back to normal. I've been doing aerobics a few times a week and riding my bike. I LOVE having so much energy!

Well that's it for now. I think I'll succumb to my percocet-induced drowsiness....

Oh, one more thing - I finally finished the rough draft of my book! Now a couple revision runs, feedback from family/friends/editors, then off to literary agents/publishers. My goal is to have it ready for submission in six months.

2010 Race for the Cure

2010-05-09T14:32:00.000-07:00

Good, Bad, Good

2010-05-07T00:02:00.000-07:00

I'll start with the positive things, then I'll whine a little, then end with something uplifting. Sound good?

Okay, here are the positive things:

Keith got a big grant for school next year, so we don't have to pay for tuition!
I am running/walking in the Race for the Cure on Saturday for Team Haven. I got my T-shirt today, and the back says S"Haven" our Ta-Ta's. Um, okay. Well, I didn't really save mine, but I guess that's not the point...
I have the world's cutest kids.
Our "Lagoon Savings" jar has lots and lots of pennies. It has some bills and quarters in it too, but mostly pennies.
I'm almost finished with the rough draft of my book. And boy, is it rough. There are some sparkling gems buried in it though, which I am very, very excited about.

Now for a little bit of whining:

I've changed the title of my blog, because I've decided today that this war is over, and I've won. The truth is, I've been thinking about cancer way too much. I've spent the last few weeks prodding and searching my body for signs of metastasis, and I'm beginning to drive myself (and my doctor) mad.

First there was the harmless vein that poked out of my wrist, a couple little bruises, and a low grade fever. I figured the cancer was in my bone marrow. Had a blood test, and the nurse told me everything looked normal.

Then a couple weeks ago I found a couple symmetrical lumps in my lower back on either side of my spine. So I decided the cancer was in my lymphatic system. I went to see the PA, and he said that it was probably nothing and we shouldn't do anything about it. So I started crying, and he ordered an x-ray and ultrasound just to make me feel better.

The x-ray and ultrasound didn't show anything suspicious, so I felt a little better, until yesterday. My neck felt a little sore for some reason, so I started prodding around and felt something on my neck where it meets my collar bone. I convinced myself again that the cancer must be in my lymphatic system. So I called my doctor's office again. The PA called me back and said they looked at my x-ray again, and they reassured me that I was going to be okay and that there was nothing wrong.

After I hung up the phone, I started sobbing. It's a good thing Jonas and Liam were at preschool, and Graham was asleep, because I basically broke down. Not because anything is physically wrong, but because I am so tired of being scared all the time. And I haven't wanted to talk to anyone about how I feel, because I don't want to burden anyone. Besides, no one seems to understand anyway.

So I knelt down to talk to the only person who does understand. I didn't say much, mostly just cried. It was one of those times that I "knew not what I should pray for as I ought: but the Spirit itself made intercession for me with groanings which cannot be uttered." (Romans 8:26)

I prayed, and cried, and then I sat there and listened. A peace came over me, and words came to my mind, reassuring me (for the hundredth time) that I am healed; that I'm going to be okay; that I am going to be around for a while. I was reminded that I need to be patient as my body continues to heal.

I've also been thinking a lot today about a story Gordon B. Hinckley once told. He was talking about how he was discouraged on his mission, and he received a letter from his father saying, "Dear Gordon, I have your letter... I have only one suggestion: Forget yourself and go to work." He said he made a pledge to try to give himself to the Lord, and after that, "the fog lifted, the sun began to shine in his life." I know this works. Whenever I forget about myself and focus on helping other people, my fears dissipate, and I am filled with hope and happiness. So if you ever see me mumbling to myself, I am probably saying, "Sarah, forget yourself, and go to work."

Okay, now here is the uplifting part:

Tonight, Keith showed me an inspiring video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHDvxPjsm8E

It was exactly what I needed. It was a great reminder that it doesn't matter what cancer has done to my body, as long as I am still here for my family.

Running, Writing, & Hypochondria

2010-04-09T22:29:00.000-07:00

The fear that I felt last month has mostly gone away. Most of the time I feel at peace and hopeful that the cancer will never return. I spend a lot of time reflecting on the blessings I received during treatment, my patriarchal blessing, and experiences in the temple that reassured me that I still have too much work to do to leave this life yet.

But a few days ago, a little vein popped out on the top of my wrist, and it was all bruised around it (I don't remember hitting it on anything), and I noticed a few tiny red dots on my skin. I've also had a low-grade fever since my hysterectomy (almost 8 weeks ago). So of course, I turned to the most reliable source of panic-inducing information: the internet. I discovered that these are some of the symptoms of leukemia. So for a couple days, I was panicking, thinking the cancer had spread to my bone marrow. I called my doctor, and they had me come in for a blood test, not because they were concerned, but because they wanted me to stop panicking.

Well, my blood looked great, and they said if the cancer was in my bone marrow, it would have affected my blood counts. But they also have no idea what is causing the fever, or the protruding vein and bruise ("maybe you hit your wrist," they said). But they don't think my symptoms have anything to do with my cancer. They aren't too concerned about the fever since it is low, but hopefully it will go away on its own so I can stop worrying about it!

Yesterday I went running for the first time in a year. I put Graham in a stroller and ran behind Jonas and Liam on their bikes. It was such a beautiful day and it felt wonderful to run without getting tired. We went to the church parking lot and Jonas got off his bike and raced me. Of course I let him win.

I've been writing like crazy lately, working on my book for a couple hours every day. It is a novel I started working on three years ago (what can I say, I've had some serious setbacks). I've made a goal to finish the rough draft by May 19th. Keith is being so supportive. He wrote "May 19" on our bathroom mirror with a dry-erase marker to remind me, and he gives me time to write every night while he puts the boys to bed. The only problem is I've been staying up way too late, because once I get in the zone, I can't stop!

Stalking Tigers

2010-03-03T14:42:00.001-08:00

My friend and two-time breast cancer survivor Kim once warned me about how I would feel after finishing treatment. She said it would feel like there were tigers hiding in the trees along my path, waiting to pounce. I now understand what she was talking about.

I have fought and won a battle. I have slain the enemy with a mass of chemical weapons and now that the battle is over, I lay down my weapons and walk home. Now what? Did I kill all my enemies? What if one shows up at my door? I left my weapons on the battlefield; what will I defend myself with? If my enemy shows up now, I will surely be defeated…

Today I realized that it takes a great deal of courage (for me) to think positively. It is easy to fear and despair. It is easy to plan your last words and imagine your funeral. Because it is safe. If it never happens, great. If it does happen, at least I’ll be prepared.

But to dream; to hope; to plan for a bright future: That is scary. Because nothing can tear your heart to pieces like a dream ripped from your hands.

So I have two choices:

A. I can be optimistic and plan my future the way I hope it will turn out, and take the chance that my dreams will in fact be ripped from my hands someday.

B. I can be paralyzed with fear and toss my dreams on the floor. Expect the worst. Plan my funeral and write letters of final goodbye’s. Live life from day to day, but don’t expect too much out of it.

Okay, option B seems pretty pathetic.

So here I am, placing my heart on the altar of hope. And if my dreams are taken away, at least I can say that I fought for them.

I imagine myself in five years. I am 37 years old. I go to the oncologist for my yearly follow-up, and he says, “Your last PET scan looks great. Congratulations.” It is a warm spring day with a light wind twirling the blossoms from the trees. I drive to the elementary and pick up my boys from school, now ages 10, 8, and 6. We stop and get ice-cream before going to the park, where I chase them around without getting tired. When we get home, there is a letter waiting for me from a literary agent, saying that my second book has been picked up by a major publisher. Keith comes home and we all go out to eat to celebrate. After dinner, I go running – non-stop – for 45 minutes, not because I feel I have to run from something, but because I love to run.

And here’s the one that takes the most courage:

It is my 80th birthday. I sit on a soft chair in a large family room filled with my children, daughters-in-law, grandchildren, and husband. My hair is short and white, and my face is wrinkled like a raisin. The purple veins in my hands show through my thin, spotted skin, and I look down at them, reflecting back on the day when those veins were used as a porthole for poison. A poison that I am grateful for, because it saved my life. Because it brought me to this day, to this room, filled with all the people I love. As my beautiful granddaughter presents a slideshow of pictures from my life (which, of course, comes from a beam of light pointed at the wall from her iphone), I look heavenward and thank God for sparing me, for allowing me to stay here to be a mother, a wife, and a grandmother. And most of all, for letting me experience sorrow, so that I can greater feel joy.

Surgery Update

2010-02-18T14:39:00.000-08:00

I had surgery on 2/16, and am now in the hospital recovering. Everything went well, but I'm on lots of painkillers. I miss my little boys more than anything. My sister-in-law helped them make me a huge valentine with their little hand prints all over it and hearts with cute things written on them that they told her to write. My favorite ones say "We are a happy family" (Liam), "Come home soon," (Jonas), and "I like you," (Graham). Whenever I talk to Jonas on the phone, he asks, "Are you looking at your valentine?" I tell him I am and how much I love it. I love my sweet boys!

Keith stayed here with me the first night, and my dad stayed here with me last night. Keith's work sent me some pretty white flowers, and the young men in our ward stopped by last night with the leaders and gave me some candy. It seriously made me cry. I thought about my little boys and how wonderful it will be to see them grow up into young men.

My red blood cell count was really low yesterday, and the doctor told me I might need a transfusion today if it didn't start coming back up. Luckily, it started coming back up!

I should be able to come home tomorrow or Saturday. If this post seems random, it's because it is. I have no editing capabilities right now!

I'll write more when I'm not so out of it - just wanted to let everyone know I'm doing okay.

Staying Here

2010-01-31T17:58:00.000-08:00

I am over half way through radiation (14 down, 11 to go), and I feel great. My skin is a little pink, but not at all irritated, and although I feel a little more tired than usual, it is definitely manageable. Nothing compared to chemo. If chemo were a marathon, radiation would be a stroll on a sunny beach (where you get a little sunburn). Peace of cake.

My next surgery is scheduled for Feb. 16th. Occasionally I wonder if I’m making the right choice by having my ovaries removed. But when I imagine keeping them, all I feel is fear. It would be like leaving a ticking bomb inside my body. I cry when I think of the little girl I won’t have, but I cry harder when I think of my three little boys without a mother.

Tomorrow is my 7-year wedding anniversary. Keith has been an amazing husband, especially this last year. I don’t know how I would have gotten through all this without him.

Life is pretty much back to normal. I’ve started working again, part-time at home doing HR stuff, I’ve been writing again, and I’m looking forward to LOST starting its final season this week. However, fear occasionally pokes me in the side and whispers, “Hey, what if…” That’s when I reply, “I am healed, the cancer is never coming back. I will be here for my husband and my children, and I still have WAY too much to do to leave this life or to be sick again!”

I love my life! I love doing laundry and dishes, I love making food for my kids and cleaning it off the floor when they’re done “eating” it. I love wiping runny noses and kissing owies. I love reading books and singing songs before bed. I love saying “I love you, good night,” every night to my husband before we go to sleep. I am so glad that I am here to do all these things. And here I will stay.

Here I will stay.

Purple Bike

2010-01-15T22:19:00.000-08:00

Six months ago, I was putting my kids to bed after having just found out that I had cancer. My 5-yr-old (4 at the time) had just learned to ride his bike without training wheels, and he asked, "Mom, are you proud of me that I can ride my bike with two wheels?" I told him I was. Then he said, "You should get a bike too. What is your favorite color?" I told him it was red. Then he said, "Mom, I'm going to buy you a purple bike for your birthday." It was dark in his room, so he didn't see the tears streaming down my face. I told him I would love a purple bike, but inside I was in agony. He was so innocent; he had no idea I was going to be sick for a long time - too sick to go on bike rides. I was so scared. I didn't yet know what stage my cancer was in and how much longer I had to live.

For Christmas, Keith gave me a purple bike.

Today, I went on a bike ride with my little boys. It was cold, but I bundled everyone up, strapped Graham in the baby seat on the back of my bike, and Jonas, Liam, and I rode to the church parking lot. When we were riding around the parking lot, Jonas rode up next to me, and with a big smile, asked, "Do you like your bike, mom?" I told him I loved it. It was wonderful to feel the cold wind on my face, to pedal uphill without feeling fatigued, and to see my sweet little boys so happy to go on a bike ride with their mommy.

I started radiation treatments on Tuesday. 4 down, 21 to go. Maybe I should count by weeks, not days. 1 down, 4 to go. Yes, that sounds better. So far, I feel great. No skin irritation, no fatigue. Well, I'm a little more tired than usual, but that's probably because I've been staying up too late. Anyway, with everything going on in the world right now, I feel my problems are pretty insignificant. I have a wonderful life. I am happy. Truly happy.

Tattoos, Memories, Temple

2010-01-09T13:20:00.000-08:00

The next time I hear someone talking about tattoos, I can proudly say, "Yeah, I've got six."

I wasn't sure I still needed radiation after getting back a clean surgical pathology report. But I met with the radiation oncologist yesterday, and after going over the pros and cons, and looking at years of studies, we decided that it would be beneficial for me to have radiation. Maybe the guy just wanted to make some money, but the studies he showed me were pretty convincing. Basically, having radiation can reduce my risk of recurrence by quite a bit. So I figured, better safe than sorry. If there is one cancer cell remaining in my chest, the radiation will vaporize it. Besides, the doctor said the radiation should make me a little tired and make my skin irritable, but that the side effects were nothing compared to chemo.

After the consultation, they took me to a room with a bit CT scan machine. Not to receive radiation, but to set up the location on my body which will be receiving radiation. I laid down on the machine, and they had to tape down my right breast (a skin expander covered with my skin, more accurately), because it was in the way. Then I had to raise my hands above my head and grip these handles (very painful... still sore from surgery).

Next they put all these metal stickers all over my chest, and marked a few spots with a felt-tip. They sent me into the CT scan machine, which, if anyone has ever been in one, it's quite creepy. Reminds me of that huge machine they built in the movie Contact - remember the scary mechanical howling sound? At least I didn't have to be dropped hundreds of feet into the ocean while encapsulated in a little metal ball. Or travel billions of miles away to visit my dead father who is actually an alien. Yes, now that I put things into perspective, a CT scan machine is harmless; relaxing even. Anyway, by the time I was done, my left arm was tingling with pain and almost numb. But I couldn't put it down yet, not until they gave me the tattoos.

A very nice girl then poked a pin into my skin in six different places, leaving a freckle-sized mark in each spot. Now when I come in for radiation, they will be able to align everything with the tattoos for accuracy.

Starting next week, I have to go in 5 days a week, for 5 weeks (25 treatments total). Which is actually great news to me, since I was expecting 6 weeks.

I am feeling great and am optimistic that I will be completely cured of this thing. I look forward to years ahead when the memories of this horrific experience will begin to fade. Right now, just thinking about some of the things I went through these last few months brings me to tears. I am no longer hurting physically, but I still remember vividly the fatigue, the pain, the fear, the helplessness. I remember how my arm looked when it was swollen from phlebitis, the yellow tint of my skin, the pleading, fearful look in my eyes every time I looked in the mirror. The shine of my scalp, the darkening of my fingernails, and the energy being sucked from my muscles. My heart pounding and my bones aching, screaming objections at the poison seeping into every cell in my body. Hearing my little boy say, "Mommy, I don't want you to die, because I love you." The aching in my heart as I watched my boys sleeping peacefully and wondered how much longer I would be able to be their mother. And worst of all, my dreams and plans for the future being ripped out of my hands and dangled over my head, while cancer taunted, "You may be able to have these, and you may not." These are the things I long to forget. I hope that with time I can forget.

The temple has been a great refuge to me. I have had more powerful, amazing experiences there in the last few months than at any other time in my life. I have felt the love of my Heavenly Father and my Savior so strongly there, and have been reminded that this life is so temporary. Our earthly bodies are so fragile, yet, they are still in God's hands. And someday this fragile body of mine will be raised to immortality, never again to succumb to illness or death. But in the meantime, I will use this fragile body to do the work the Lord has sent me here to do. I pray that he allows me to serve him for many, many years to come.

Pathology and HAIR!

2009-12-20T16:13:00.001-08:00

I have two pieces of good news:

1) My pathology report came back from the surgery, and all the lymph nodes and breast tissue they removed were totally clean! No sign of cancer, not even under a microscope!

2) My hair is starting to grow back! It's only been five weeks since my last treatment, but I looked in the mirror last night and was surprised to see peach fuzz all over my head. I actually started crying. And couldn't stop crying. I just kept touching my head and saying, "Really? Really?" while tears streamed down my face. I didn't realize what a healing effect it would have to see my body doing something normal like growing hair, and to get back something that chemo took away from me.

I am slowly healing from surgery - each day gets easier and easier. I still have four drains in, and I remind myself of a borg when I look in the mirror with all the tubes coming out of my body. They should come out sometime before New Years. And I'm not supposed to pick up Graham or anything over 10 lbs for 4 weeks, but I'll probably have to break that rule at some point out of necessity. Don't worry, I'll break it very carefully.

Keith took our 3 little boys down to St. George this weekend while I stayed with my parents up here. It was a really nice break and I spent the whole time sleeping, reading, and watching movies. Oh, and wrapping the ridiculous number of presents my mom bought for her grandchildren. I am so excited for Christmas! I am so happy to be alive, to have the privilege of raising my sweet little boys, and I can't wait to see their adorable faces light up as they open their presents on Christmas morning.

Surgery

2009-12-13T14:56:00.000-08:00

The surgery went well. The general surgeon did not find any remaining evidence of cancer when he did the mastectomy, so it looks like the chemo did its job. They were able to spare a lot of skin and fill up the skin expanders quite a bit, so I am in A LOT of pain. Percocet takes the edge off, but I have no idea why some women have breast surgery voluntarily! It hurts! Badly!

I stayed one night in the hospital and I am now at home recovering. We're receiving a lot of help from family and friends. I will write more later when I'm feeling a little better; I just wanted everyone to know that I am okay.

Next Up...

2009-12-05T12:56:00.000-08:00

It has been three weeks since my last chemo treatment, and other than being bald, I feel like a normal, healthy person. My eyebrows and eyelashes have finally started falling out, but at least I made it through chemo without having to paint/glue them on (would I really have done that anyway?). I am looking forward to having hair again, but at this point I don't even remember what it's like to have hair. I look at past pictures of myself and try to remember what it was like to run my fingers through my hair or pull it back into a ponytail, and it seems so unreal to me. It should start growing back sometime in January. Maybe I'll have a quarter of an inch in time for my anniversary on Feb. 1st, and I can wear it in a spiky-do.

My mastectomy surgery is scheduled for December 11th. I'm not so worried about the mastectomy as I am about the reconstruction. My general surgeon told me that he won't be causing me any pain, that it's the plastic surgeon that I have to be afraid of. In these last couple weeks I have actually considered having no reconstruction at all. I mean, why am I doing it anyway? For vanity? For self esteem? These seem like such poor reasons to go through the painful process of reconstruction. Keith doesn't care either way, he just wants me to be happy. I guess it all just seems so overwhelming right now. At times I just want to have the mastectomy, do radiation, and be done with it. But I worry that a couple years down the road I will regret not doing the reconstruction when I had the opportunity. I mean, I can always do reconstruction in the future, but the plastic surgeon said that once my skin has received radiation, it looses its elasticity and won't stretch. So, I'll do the reconstruction now so that I can have the best possible outcome.

At the time of the mastectomy, they will insert skin expanders beneath my chest muscles. A week later, they'll start filling them, and I'll go in once a week for four weeks to have them further expanded. Then I'll have 6 weeks of radiation, then another surgery to remove the expanders and insert the implants. After that, I am hoping that I will be cured! I will also be having one more surgery in the spring to remove my ovaries (to avoid ovarian cancer since I have the BRCA1 mutation). So yes, I am done having kids. It makes me really, really sad to think that I will never have a girl. But I have done a lot of praying about it and I feel that I need to do everything I can to protect my life so that I can raise the children I already have.

I am so grateful for my three little boys. They are so sweet and wonderful. And if I am ever aching for a girl, I can just put one of my wigs on them to imagine what it would be like to have a girl. Jonas and Graham would make such cute girls with their long, dark eyelashes!

I think that having my surgery right before Christmas will actually make it easier. What better time to have it than when everything around us reminds us of our Savior. I know that through him I have been healed and continue to be healed. I know he will be with me during these next couple months just as he has been with me through all the difficult times in my life. Chemo was the hardest of all, but I also look back at it as a sacred period of my life, a time when I was surrounded by angels, a time when I received constant strength, comfort, and healing through my Savior. I love him now more than ever, and have a greater desire to devote my life to him and serve him in any way he asks of me.

The next time I face death, whether it is in 1 year or in 60 years, I want to be able to look back at my life and say that I have lived a good life, that I have done the work God asked me to do, that I have become the person he wanted me to become.

Last Chemo!

2009-11-13T20:12:00.000-08:00

A large, golden, shiny bell hangs from the wall at the exit of the Utah Cancer Center for patients to ring when they are finished with their last chemo treatment. Today I got to listen to fellow cancer patients and nurses cheer as I rang that bell. I didn’t expect to be emotional about it, but I had to choke back tears of joy as I walked through the exit. My mom was waiting for me in her car outside of the building, and when I got in her car she burst into tears from the sight of her daughter walking out of a cancer center wearing a scarf on her head. I wrapped my arms around her and reassured her that everything was going to be okay, and she reassured me in return.

I have made it through the most grueling, difficult four months of my life! And I am a changed person because of it. I don’t take anything for granted anymore - life, health, and family are priceless blessings. I have grown in patience, faith, and compassion. And I have learned to trust God, to “be still, and know that he is God,” to humbly submit to his will and believe that no matter what happens, we are in his hands, and all experiences will be for our good.

I am completely filled with gratitude right now. On my to-do list is written “write thank-you notes to everyone.” It seems like an insurmountable task, because there are so many people who have helped us these last few months.

I still have a few surgeries and radiation to get through, but after going through chemo, I feel like I can get through anything. The next step is a bilateral mastectomy, which will probably be in about three weeks. I am meeting with the surgeon on Monday to go over the details and to schedule the surgery. Wish me luck and keep me in your prayers!

One More...

2009-11-08T20:26:00.000-08:00

I know, I've been really bad about updating my blog. So here's a quick update:

I had the same reaction to the Abraxane as I did with the Taxol - chest tightness, itchiness, etc. So they had me go to the ER last Monday to make sure it wasn't anything serious. They did an EKG, chest x-rays, and some blood tests, and everything looked normal, so I got to go home. I talked with my doctor this week about it and he said they are going to go ahead and use Abraxane again for my last treatment, but they are going to load me up with benadryl and steroids to try to avoid the allergic reaction. So if you see me or talk to me in the next couple weeks, watch out - the steroids make me completely nuts (Keith can vouch for that - dear, patient soul).

I've felt pretty good these last couple weeks, though not quite normal. The chest pain comes and goes, my toes are constantly numb, and it occasionally feels like I am being stabbed in random places with a twisting, serrated knife (actually not as painful as it sounds). But I feel a million times better than I did during the first half of my treatments. No nausea, less fatigue, and I've been able to keep my kids at home with me.

Emotionally, I've been doing great. There are still days when I get scared and cry a lot, but most days I feel hopeful and happy, and I try to go through the day as if I am not battling a life-threatning illness. I try not to fear all the things that "could" happen in the future, but instead try to take things one day at a time. After all, we do not live in the "what if." We live in the "now." So we should cherish and make good use of the "now" instead of being paralyzed by the "what if's" that will most likely never happen.

One more treatment! I am so excited to be done with chemo! November is going to be a great month. My last treatment is on the 13th, then I'm going to see New Moon with a bunch of girls on the 21st (make fun of me if you want), then I'm going to see David Archuleta with Keith on the 24th (yes, another reason to make fun of me), then I get to see a bunch of my family on Thanksgiving. Life is good. Life is wonderful. Life is precious.

No more Taxol

2009-10-16T13:21:00.000-07:00

The good news is, my last two chemo treatments should be a "cake walk" (exact words used by my doctor). The bad news is, my chemo treatments have to be extended for 2 more weeks, for 2 reasons:

Reason #1: I couldn't have my treatment today because my white blood cell count was too low, so treatment #7 has been postponed until next friday.

Reason #2:
The allergic reaction I had to my last taxol treatment was bad enough that my doctor decided to switch to a different drug for my last two treatments. The new drug (can't remember the name of it, but it is in the taxol family) has minimal side effects (hence the promised "cake walk") and is actually more effective than Taxol. But it can only be given every three weeks instead of two weeks, which pushes my final treatment date to November 13th.

It's okay though - as long as I feel good and can function like a normal person, it doesn't really matter that I have to be in chemo phase for two extra weeks.

Hope

2009-10-02T18:44:00.000-07:00

I had my second Taxol treatment today, which means I only have 2 left! My blood counts were up, so I didn’t need a blood transfusion (thanks to all those who have offered me their blood), so that was a great blessing. The doctor also increased the steroid dosage and instructed me to take Benadryl at home, so hopefully the chest pain won’t return and I won’t need to take another trip to the ER to check for blood clots.

It has been a great week physically – I’ve had no nausea and just a little fatigue, and I am grateful that the Taxol treatments have been easier than the A/C. It’s been wonderful to feel somewhat normal.

We threw Jonas his 5-year-old birthday party last Wednesday, and it was tons of fun. Our backyard was filled with running, screaming kids, and we had a Spiderman piñata which was decapitated by a little girl named Jessica. Pandemonium ensued, and I regret to say I didn’t capture the mayhem on video. Fifteen kids screamed, squealed, and desperately fought for candy and cheap plastic toys (provided by China, of course). It was like watching starving ducks fight over breadcrumbs, squawking and pecking at each other until the goods were consumed, then waddling around with their noses in the grass to make sure they didn’t miss anything. I’ll be replaying that scene in my own memory whenever I need a good laugh.

There has never been a time in my life when I have needed a good laugh more than I do now. I know it’s typical for people going through chemo to experience some depression and anxiety, and although that knowledge is somewhat comforting, the knowledge itself doesn’t make me want to jump up and sing “I am a typical cancer patient! All is well!”

I try to stay positive, and the energy and strength I’ve had recently have been a great blessing. Most days I am filled with hope and faith, and I cling to the promise of healing I have received from Heavenly Father through priesthood blessings. But there are times when the adversary sends dark clouds my way, and I am overcome by fear and anxiety. Sometimes the clouds pass quickly, dropping only a couple raindrops that are evaporated with a hopeful thought. And sometimes the clouds linger for days, shrouding me in darkness, pelting my heart with fear and despair.

In these dark hours, the Lord stretches forth his hand and reaches my reaching. He sends angels, seen and unseen, to lift me up and give me the help I need. He prompts people to call me so that I can cry it all out and express all my fears and anxiety to compassionate, understanding ears. He reminds me to do kind things for others so that I can forget myself. He blesses me with hope and strength through priesthood blessings. He prompts friends to post links on my blog to messages that I need to hear (thanks Krystal). He holds out his arm, and whispers to me, “take it,” and I grasp his unfailing strength until I am pulled out of the darkness and into a perfect brightness of hope. And the spirit whispers to me that all is not lost and that the Lord keeps his promises – that I will be protected, comforted, and healed.

Many things have helped me through the emotional wreckage of this week, but I’d like to mention three particular things:

1. I had a terrible day on Wednesday. I cried all day, felt like a terrible mother, and just felt completely out of control. I even considered talking to my doctor about getting on some anti-depressants. But the next day, I felt great. I didn’t cry all day, and when Keith came home, he let me know that he had been fasting for me all day. I know that fasting is one of the greatest ways of calling down the powers of heaven, and I know that because Keith made that sacrifice for me, I was carried through the day and have since felt happy and hopeful.

2.Thursday night I went to the temple. I sat in the celestial room and poured out my heart to Heavenly Father. He reassured me that everything would be okay, and reminded me of all the things he has taught me through this trial and of all the promises he has given me, if I will just have faith. I love the temple!

3. Krystal posted a link to a youtube video highlighting Elder Uchtdorf’s talk from the October 2008 conference, entitled “The Infinite Power of Hope.” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbsU3b2srQA) I watched the video, then went to LDS.org to read the entire talk. It was exactly what I needed to hear. Here are some of my favorite parts:

“No matter how bleak the chapter of our lives may look today, because of the life and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, we may hope and be assured that the ending of the book of our lives will exceed our grandest expectations. ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.’…

"…The things we hope in sustain us during our daily walk. They uphold us through trials, temptations, and sorrow. Everyone has experienced discouragement and difficulty. Indeed, there are times when the darkness may seem unbearable. It is in these times that the divine principles of the restored gospel we hope in can uphold us and carry us until, once again, we walk in the light…

"…We hope in Jesus the Christ, in the goodness of God, in the manifestations of the Holy Spirit, in the knowledge that prayers are heard and answered. Because God has been faithful and kept His promises in the past, we can hope with confidence that God will keep His promises to us in the present and in the future. In times of distress, we can hold tightly to the hope that things will “work together for [our] good” as we follow the counsel of God’s prophets. This type of hope in God, His goodness, and His power refreshes us with courage during difficult challenges and gives strength to those who feel threatened by enclosing walls of fear, doubt, and despair…

“Hope sustains us through despair. Hope teaches that there is reason to rejoice even when all seems dark around us… And to all who suffer—to all who feel discouraged, worried, or lonely—I say with love and deep concern for you, never give in… Never surrender … Never allow despair to overcome your spirit. Embrace and rely upon the Hope of Israel, for the love of the Son of God pierces all darkness, softens all sorrow, and gladdens every heart.”

I know I will make it through this! It has been a difficult journey, but I have already learned so much and know I will continue to learn if I seek Heavenly Father’s guidance. My faith has been increased, as has my compassion and desire to serve others who are in need. I know that I will look back on this experience as a great blessing – as a journey that changed me and refined me to become more like the person Heavenly Father wants me to be.

Taxol

2009-09-22T13:39:00.000-07:00

I had my first Taxol treatment on Friday, and my blood counts had dropped so low that they said if they don't come back up by my next treatment I will need a blood transfusion (O+, anyone?). While hooked up to the IV my mom called to let me know she was on her way to the instacare because my 4-year-old got a bead stuck up his nose. Luckily my brother Dan was there to mow my lawn when it happened, so he helped her with the other kids while Jonas had the bead removed. So I stressed for a few minutes, but once everything was taken care of, I succumbed to the Benadryl in my IV and drifted off to sleep for a bit. Then they gave me some steroids, followed by the Taxol. I didn’t have any side effects from the Taxol while they were giving it to me, but that night I started having tightness in my chest. I still had it the next day, so we had to go to the ER and get a CAT scan to rule out a blood clot. Then Saturday night I got a temperature, so I’m now taking antibiotics. Other than that, I think the Taxol is easier than the A/C. I’m having some bone pain and fatigue, but the nausea is minimal.

I'm trying so hard to stay positive and to remember my blessings, but the treatments are wearing on me emotionally. I suddenly have a high water table and I have been crying all the time. The nurse in the ER asked me about my kids, and I just burst into tears. I am glad Keith was there with me to smile at me, or I probably wouldn't have been able to stop crying. But I am so frustrated by the limitations the treatments put on me, and it is so depressing to not be able to be the mother and wife that I want to be.

So on a note of negativity, let me attempt some positivity. I am grateful my sickness is temporary. There are people out there who have life-long illnesses and disabilities, and my illness (hopefully) will only last a year or so. My family is healthy. I have three wonderful little boys and a wonderful, patient husband who loves me. I have food on my table (even if I don't feel like eating it), and clean water to drink. I have a roof over my head and clothes on my back. I have the knowledge of the gospel, which if applied, can help me through anything. My husband has a good job, we have good benefits. Countless people have helped us with meals, childcare, and expenses, and I know there are people out there who have to suffer this type of thing alone. So, I need to be more grateful!!!

Good Weekend

2009-09-13T14:30:00.000-07:00

All things considered, it has been a good, normal weekend. Yesterday we drove to the Uintahs and went fishing at Crystal Lake (a little but breathtakingly beautiful lake). Keith got a bite, and the kids reeled in some green stuff, but we didn't leave with any fish. And once the kids (and I) stopped whining about how long it took to get there, we had a good time.

Today was a usual Sunday, we went to church, I taught my adorable girls about baptism for the dead (I love lessons like that - they always have a million questions and we get off on tangent after tangent, but they're fun tangents). After church I helped the boys build a train track with a big, big hill, then read them a couple books. I love days when I feel normal. They give me hope and remind me that all of this is temporary.

I've also been meaning to write about the results of my genetic testing. I found out at my last treatment that I have a BRAC1 deleterious mutation. That means I had an 87% chance of getting breast cancer before the age of 70. It also means that I have a 20% chance of getting ovarian cancer (would have been 44% if I didn't have breast cancer), and my doctor suggests that I have my ovaries removed when I am done having kids. So now I have to wrestle with the decision of whether or not to try for a girl. If I do have another baby, the doctor said I needed to wait at least three years after my treatment is over. What if I get ovarian cancer by then? And if I have a girl, she has a 50% chance of having the same genetic mutation. So ... very sadly ... I might be done having kids. Of course my mom and Keith want me to be done, but I still haven't decided for sure. I will have to make a decision in the coming months though. I just want to know God's will before I make such a permanent decision! I will be doing lots of praying to figure this one out...

4 Down, 4 to Go

2009-09-08T20:12:00.001-07:00

I just wanted to thank everyone for their encouragement and kind words. It gives me extra strength to know that so many people are praying for me and cheering me on. I've been feeling quite brave this week, though I still don't claim it as my own - I know that I am being carried through this by my Savior and his atonement. As Jeffrey R. Holland stated in his article in the most recent Ensign,

"After speaking of sufferings so exquisite to feel and so hard to bear, Jesus said, “I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they [and that means you and I and everyone] might not suffer if they would repent” (D&C 19:16). In our moments of pain and trial, I guess we would shudder to think it could be worse, but without the Atonement it not only could be worse, it would be worse. Only through our faith and repentance and obedience to the gospel that provided the sacred Atonement is it kept from being worse."

I know that without the Atonement, my suffering would be so much worse. I am eternally grateful to a Savior who loves me enough to take the burdens of my trials from my shoulders.

I am also happy to report that I am halfway done with my chemo treatments. And the last four treatments are a different drug (called Taxol) that my doctor says *most* people have an easier time with. He says it doesn't cause as much nausea and fatigue, just achiness and maybe some bone pain. But I am starting to see the light at the end of the chemo tunnel. I know I will get through this!

Courage is Not Mine

2009-09-02T20:43:00.000-07:00

I’ve always considered myself a fairly brave person. But these past couple weeks I’ve learned that I’m not as brave as I thought.

With each chemo treatment, it’s gotten more and more difficult to recover from the side effects. It’s a bit terrifying to watch and feel my body react to the deadly chemicals that are running through it. The nausea is constant, and even though I try to eat enough to give my body the nutrients it needs to rebuild, I can’t. My heart pounds for nine days straight, trying to deliver oxygen to my body with a fraction of my usual red blood cells. I have a sore throat and mouth sores, and my skin color alternates between pale yellow and green. I have no energy, and I can relate to the toys on the floor with generic drained batteries that strain to function and sound demon-possessed when they try to speak. The drug they give me to rebuild my blood-counts causes bone pain, and I feel pain in places I didn’t know it was possible to have pain. I have phlebitis in my left arm because apparently my veins don’t like poison. And so I lie awake at night, wondering how much more my body can take.

So through all this, I have discovered that I am not brave. If I was, I would face my trials head-on with a smile, or at least with a firm scowl of determination. Instead, I have been whimpering every time I feel pain, and breaking down into tears every time I think about my next chemo treatment and all the ones to follow. At times I am more afraid of the treatment for cancer than the cancer itself. I feel like a terrified, sobbing child who has just been informed they’ll be going to the doctor for a shot, who is inconsolable even after the parent reassures them that the shot will only hurt for a little bit and will keep them from getting sick. Yep, I’m a wimp.

So after I broke down in tears for the millionth time yesterday (because my arm was hurting from the phlebitis), I knelt down and asked God for strength, to help me be brave and face all that I have to go through with courage. When I finished praying, I went to the scriptures to learn how to be more brave. I found my answer in the following passages, and an overwhelming peace came over me as I read them.

Deuteronomy 20: 1-4 : When thou goest out to battle against thine enemies [cancer], and seest [needles, nausea, fatigue, infection, deadly chemicals, pounding heart], be not afraid of them: for the Lord thy God is with thee. … And it shall be, when ye are come nigh unto the battle … let not your heart faint, fear not, and do not tremble, neither be ye terrified … for the Lord your God is he that goeth with you, to fight for you against your enemies, to save you.

Deuteronomy 31: 6,8 : Be strong and of good courage, fear not … for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with the; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.

As I was reading these scriptures, the song “How Firm a Foundation” came into my head. It’s never been one of my favorite hymns, but I decided to look it up and read the words. When I read verses 3-7, I was brought to tears by the spirit I felt and I knew that God was speaking directly to me.

Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous omnipotent hand.

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o’erflow,
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose
I will not, I cannot, desert to his foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no never, no never forsake!

Remembering that God is with me, watching over me and protecting me, will give me the strength and courage I need to get through these next few months of chemo, surgery, and radiation. Courage is God’s, and he lends it to us if we put our lives in his hands and trust that he will take care of us.

Now everyone knows what a wimp I am! Okay, maybe not a wimp… I am just “tender-hearted.” But thank goodness for God's courage.

Miracle

2009-08-20T19:34:00.000-07:00

I met with my doctor today before receiving my chemo treatment, and he was very surprised when he could not feel the lump under my arm or the lump in my breast. He said that they don't usually see a reduction in the size of the lump until after the third treatment, but, again, he couldn't even feel anything. I wanted to cry when he told me this, because it is truly a miracle. When Keith and my Dad gave me a blessing the night we found out my diagnosis, part of the blessing said that through the reactions of the doctors, I would know it is God's power that is healing me. Today I witnessed this promise come to pass when I saw the look of surprise on the doctor's face.

I have already learned so many things from this trial, and I hope to learn many more over the coming months. I learned a tough lesson this week. To preface - for the first couple weeks after learning of my diagnosis, I was on a spiritual high. I honestly felt like I was being carried, like there were angels around me bearing me up. I was happy and at perfect peace. Then this week, that feeling went away. I wondered why, because I felt like I was doing everything in my power to keep the spirit with me. But on Monday night, I just felt really scared, discouraged, and alone. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to comfort me, but I still felt scared. So I asked Keith to give me a blessing, and even after the blessing, I was still full of fear and doubt. So I went downstairs to our family room by myself, and I kneeled down in front of the couch and cried, and cried, and cried. I don't think I have cried so hard since some guy broke my heart years ago. When I got most of the tears out, I prayed again, and told Heavenly Father what all my fears were, and pleaded for comfort. As I was praying the thought came to me that I needed to go to the scriptures for the comfort and peace I was looking for. So I went back upstairs and got in bed, and read the first three chapters of Mosiah. The peace I was seeking finally came over me, and I was able to go to sleep. The next morning, it occurred to me that Heavenly Father had taught me a powerful lesson. If God carried us through our trials and made them a piece of cake, we would not learn anything or grow. He carried me for a couple weeks, then he set me down to walk on my own, to increase my own spiritual strength. It was His way of saying, "Sarah, I will give you the peace and comfort you are looking for, but you have to work for it so that you will become the person I want you to be." I have been okay about reading my scriptures in the past, but usually only spent about 10 minutes a day casually reading. Had God continued carrying me, I would not have had any desire to improve this habit. But since this experience, I have spent each night immersing myself in the scriptures, sincerely seeking knowledge, and God has blessed me again with His comforting spirit. I have been asking God to help me to learn the things He wants me to learn from this trial, and He is certainly answering me.

God lives, loves us, and is anxious to bless us in our times of need, if we will but turn to Him. I am grateful for this trial and for all the ways I have already grown from it. My faith has increased, as well as my desire to do everything I can to have and keep the spirit with me.

Everything else with chemo #3 went well today. Dad came with me and we both read our Harry Potter books (he is reading them for the first time too). I am now at home in bed, heart pounding again and feeling just a little nauseous. The doctor gave me a couple new meds today for the nausea, including Marinol, a form of marijauna. Um... I'm not so sure I'll be filling that prescription.

One more note - I changed the settings on my blog so that anyone can post, not just those with Google accounts. So post! I love to get posts!

On the Upside

2009-08-18T18:30:00.000-07:00

I could list a million horrible things about chemo, but that probably wouldn't be very fun to read. So today I'd like to list all the good things about it.

1. First and most obvious, chemo is great at killing cancer cells. I can't even feel the lump under my arm anymore (my lymph node), and the lump in my breast feels smaller, so it must be working!

2. It’s the best weight-loss program I’ve ever been on. The nausea ruins my appetite, and when I do have an appetite, mouth sores make it too painful to eat. I’ve lost 12 pounds since I found out I have cancer, and I’m only 5 pounds away from pre-Jonas weight! All without effort! Look for “The Chemical Diet,” by Sarah Beard, in bookstores next summer.

3. I don’t have to blow-dry my hair. I’ve always hated styling my hair, and now I can just throw on a scarf or scratchy wig and go. I have not been late for anything since I lost my hair.

4. I don’t have to shave, pluck, or wax anything.

5. By eliminating the need for conditioner, root lifter, hairspray, and mousse, our hair product expenses have been reduced by 95.6%. That’s a savings of $283 per year!

6. I have the chance to spend 3 hours every two weeks just sitting in a recliner reading a good book. Sure, I've got an IV attached the entire time, but at least I can get through 5 chapters without being interrupted.

Okay, that's all the good things about chemo I can think of. If you think of any more, please post them. Thanks!

Chemo is my friend... Chemo is my friend

2009-08-11T18:23:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday night, despite the upbeat tone of my blog, I was feeling pretty horrible. My heart was racing, my head pounding, and the nausea was almost unbearable. I kept trying to shift positions in bed to hide from the pain, but it kept finding me. I couldn’t go to sleep, so finally Keith called one of our neighbors, Justin Berg, to come help give me a blessing. I was able to go to sleep right after, and I slept through the night. For the next couple days I felt okay, just a little nauseous and tired.

Then this morning, chemo hit me head on and knocked me to the floor. I was minding my own business, making French toast for the kids, when suddenly all my strength just sort of drained out of me and I ended up on the floor. I told Jonas to get me the phone and I called my mom, then prayed for help. While still on the floor, I looked over to see Jonas peeking around the corner of the counter, whimpering. I called him over to me and sat up and held him in my arms as he cried and said, “I thought you were going to die.” It was so heartbreaking, but I held him and reassured him that I was not going to ever leave him.

By far the most difficult aspect of this trial has been to delegate my motherhood responsibilities to others. I love my little boys so fiercely and want to protect them from anything that would bring them discomfort or pain. But today I was faced with reality – that I’m not going to get through these next few months without help. The feeling of helplessness that hit me today is, for me, far more difficult than the physical pain or appearance of chemo. It’s the giving up of control over a routine and system that works best for my family, and trusting the care of my kids to others who I hope will just pick up where I have left off, hugs and kisses and all.

Last night when I couldn’t sleep, I went downstairs and listened to Elder Bednar’s conference talk about the tender mercies of the Lord. It reminded me that amidst life’s greatest trials, the Lord shows his love for us through the very personal tender mercies that He gives us. Only He knows what I am going through, only He knows my concerns and fears, and only He knows how to give me the tender mercies that will ease my troubled spirit and quiet my fears. I know that as I turn to Him, He will carry me, will send help, seen and unseen, to meet my family’s every need. My life is in His hands, and my family is in His hands. Could there be a more trustworthy, caring, loving being to entrust our care to?

I know there are people out there who are going through similar trials, but with no or little support from others. I am so, so grateful for my family and friends and neighbors who have stepped forward and done so much to help us with meals, childcare, and kind words. You have been the answer to our prayers.

Chemo... 2 down, 6 to go!

2009-08-06T18:39:00.000-07:00

I enjoyed reading Harry Potter today while spending 3 hours at the doctor's getting chemo treatment #2. I can't believe it took me this long to read them! I love JK Rowling's writing style. So to all you people who hounded me for years to read her books - you were right!

When I came home from chemo, I found a care package waiting for me from my genious (seriously, her intelligence intimidates me) cousin Amanda. She mailed me a card that made me cry, and a stuffed pig with a paper tied around its neck that had pictures of the pig with various other stuffed pigs, noting which kinds of comforting skills it had learned from each of the other pigs. Anyway, it made me laugh. She also mailed me a book to read and a cute little notebook to write in. Thanks Amanda!

I also had this crazy drive to write when I came home, so I laid in bed and worked on my book for a few hours (I've been writing a novel for the last couple years). I don't know if it was the chemo drugs or pure inspiration, but idea after idea just kept coming to me. I also found it was a wonderful way to think about something else besides the nausea and overall yuckiness I feel. But I can't help but wonder if I'm just delusional, and I will read it in a couple days going, "what the crap was I thinking?"

Keith is taking care of the kids and my mom and sister cleaned my house today. A friend in our neighborhood and twice survivor of breast cancer, Kim Blanchard, brought us dinner. I am so grateful to have family and friends to help us through this. I know I am blessed, lucky, even spoiled. The windows of heaven are opened, and we don't have room enough to receive the abundance of blessings that are being poured upon us.

And I just have to say again - thank you for your prayers and support. I now have a firm testimony that God answers our prayers when we pray for other people, because I have been the recipient of the blessings that come from other people's prayers. I can literally feel a difference, and the best way to describe it is that my burdens feel lifted, I feel at peace and comforted, and every need is being met. So just know that your prayers are never in vain. God hears us and answers us!

Also, thanks for all the nice comments you have made about my blog. It is very therapeutic for me to share my experience with other people, I guess because it makes me feel like I am not alone. So thanks for reading it and being one of the people who understands a little about what I'm going through. I feel like the more people I can share this experience with, the easier the burden will be to bear.

Now I'm going to go take some more meds because I feel like throwing up. Wish me luck!

Adieu, Beloved Hair

2009-08-03T19:12:00.000-07:00

This morning when I woke up and ran my fingers through my hair, a bunch of hair decided to stay in my hand instead of on my head. It was a little horrifying, like one of those dreams where all your teeth fall out. I almost cried, but was able to hold it together when I realized that the majority of my hair was still firmly attached. But I also decided that it would probably be less traumatic to just shave my hair off than to have it fall out in clumps. So, today was the day I said goodbye to my hair.

When Keith came home from work, I told him what the plan was, and he agreed to do the dirty work. He made me promise that I would remember who I was, and that I was beautiful no matter what.

So after dinner, I sat on a stool in the kitchen, and Keith (brave soul) shaved all my hair off while I sang "Nothing Compares 2U." When he was about halfway done, our two little boys came in from playing outside. We explained to them why we were shaving my hair off, and they just stood there with wide eyes as locks of Mommy's brown hair dropped to the floor. Jonas said, "Mommy, you look weird, but I still love you." Then he said, "You look like a man now," to which Liam added "Now you can drive a truck." Keith just kept telling me how beautiful I was.

I got through the shaving part without crying, probably because I spent the entire time reassuring my little boys that I wasn't sad and that my hair would grow back someday. When all my hair was gone, I felt fine and I honestly didn't think I would cry. But once I looked in the mirror, no number of Sinead O'Connor or G.I. Jane jokes could keep the tears from coming. I went upstairs and bawled as I shampooed all the stray hairs off my head and neck, then bawled some more as I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the person staring back at me.

I said a little prayer, asking Heavenly Father to comfort me, and He reminded me that my worth has nothing to do with what I look like. I am still Sarah, mother of three little boys, wife of a loving devoted husband, daughter and sister of a family who loves me, and most importantly, a daughter of God. As I thought about this, I was filled with a desire to increase my inner beauty - to be a more loving, giving person, because in the end, the beauty of our spirit is the only beauty that lasts.

Cherishing Normalcy

2009-08-02T19:44:00.000-07:00

I have felt so good these last couple days that I actually feel normal, and I have to say I have never been so happy just to feel normal.

Yesterday morning I took the car to get detailed (four years of transporting kids has turned it into a germ-fest - not good when you only have 100 white blood cells), and they said it would take 3-4 hours. Keith had just left on a walk with the kids, so I knew he wasn't available to come pick me up, so I decided to just walk home. It took me almost an hour to get home, but it felt great just to have the energy to walk! However, my feet weren't too happy with my decision to wear flip-flops.

Today I went to church and taught my sweet 10-year-old girls, and I told them that my hair was going to fall out, and that I would probably have a wig or scarf on the next time they saw me. My companion, Sis. Godfrey, told them that if they got out of line I would take it off and chase them around the room. I attested to the girls the reality of this threat, so I have a feeling they'll be on their best behavior.

After church, we were really bored and Keith and I ended up getting in a water fight (I know, not an appropriate Sabbath day activity, but it started small and sort of got out of hand). I regret to say that I lost. No, lost isn't quite the right word. Keith pretty much annihilated me with the garden hose. I managed to dump one large cup of water on Keith's shirt, and by the time the war was over, I was drenched from head to toe. It's not over yet though! Keith, you better watch your back!

So, it's nice to see that life is still normal, even if it is a new kind of normal. I know I'm going to have ups and downs over the coming months, but I will cherish the ups more than ever before.

Good News

2009-07-30T17:45:00.000-07:00

I met with my doctor today and went over the results of the PET Scan - and it is good news! The cancer has NOT spread beyond the affected lymph node, and I am officially in stage 2B breast cancer. I am relieved to have this knowledge, and I finally feel confident saying that this is a fight that I can and will win. I just have to get through 15 more weeks of chemo, surgery, and radiation, but I know I can do it because I have so many wonderful people supporting me and cheering me on. Thank you again for all your prayers and support. Really, I can't say thank you enough. And please keep praying for us! We will need it!

PET Scan

2009-07-29T16:42:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update: This morning I went in for a PET Scan, which will be helpful in determining what stage my cancer is at and if it has spread beyond my lymph nodes. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon to go over the results with my doctor. We are praying for good news!

I am also starting to feel back to normal today after my first chemo treatment last week. I even made dinner for Keith and watered all the flowers!

I have realized that it can be very easy to get depressed in a situation like this. I was thinking last night about the pioneers and how when they were trekking across the plains, they often stopped and played music and danced. Even though they were in a difficult situation, they paused to have fun, to lift their spirits, and to count their blessings. I realized last night that I need to do the same. I know the next few months are going to be tough, but if I take one day at a time, and make the most of each day, it will be so much easier.

I'll let everyone know the results of the PET Scan tomorrow night!

Seriously, a wig?

2009-07-24T15:44:00.000-07:00

I've often driven by wig shops and wondered to myself, "How do they stay in business? Who buys wigs?" Well, yesterday afternoon, I walked into a wig shop and realized that it is people like me who keep them in business. Normal people who lose their hair, who happen to want to continue looking normal. I went with Keith, and I probably tried on at least 20 wigs. Short, long, brown, blonde (we thought it would be funny for me to walk into sacrament meeting next week wearing a long blonde wig). We finally decided on a medium-length, brown wig with some highlights. I still have my real hair, but it is supposed to fall out within two weeks. I also ordered some scarves today online since I haven't felt up to getting out of bed.

I explained to my 4-year-old that my hair was going to fall out, and he said, "Well, you'll look weird, but you'll still be pretty." It seriously made me start crying. He is such a sweet little boy. He has been bringing me drinks, and more drinks. I have 5 cups of water on my nightstand because I can't bare to turn him away when he wants to help.

This whole experience still seems so surreal. I never saw my life going this way. I knew I would have trials, but it was always the "other" people who got cancer. It has completely changed my perspective on life. I will never again take my blessings for granted, and I will be living each day to its fullest, seeking each moment for the guidance of a loving Heavenly Father, and doing all I can to become the person he wants me to be.

Why chemo first, masectomy later?

2009-07-24T06:08:00.000-07:00

Becca had a question about why I'm doing chemo first. Here is my answer:
I am having the chemo first because I still have breastmilk since I only stopped nursing last week, which complicates surgery. The surgeon would have wanted to wait a couple weeks to do the surgery, then wait 4 more weeks for me to heal before starting chemo. I just felt like 6 weeks was too long for me to wait for chemo, because the thought of the cancer spreading is what keeps me up at night.

I have a very aggressive cancer that seems to spread easily, and they said they have done studies where the chemo has been first or last, and it makes no difference in the overall survival rate. I just felt like I needed to start asap with something.

Even if the chemo shrinks the tumor or makes it disappear, I will still be having a bilateral masectomy. I am 32 years old with very young children, and I don't have to ever worry about this cancer coming back. I am not my breasts, and luckily my husband holds the same opinion. My life is worth that to me - to be able to raise my children to adulthood, to continue with all the work that I know Heavenly Father still wants me to do here. I just feel it is the right thing to do for me.

Of course I will have reconstructive surgery, and the surgeon tells me that they will look very close to real breasts, so at least I will still feel like a woman. But my family is the most important thing, and they need me here, with or without breasts (that were getting saggy anyway).

First Chemo

2009-07-23T17:44:00.001-07:00

It has been a whirlwind of a week. I found out I have breast cancer, have met with several doctors, and finally decided on a treatment plan. I'll be doing 4 months of chemo, followed by a bilateral masectomy and reconstruction, then radiation. I have a PET scan next week to see if the cancer has spread outside the lymph nodes, because if it has, it will be an entirely new battle. On the upside, I finally started reading Harry Potter this week, as I have a feeling I will have a lot of down time in the next few months (I can already hear you Harry Potter fans cheering).

I want to thank everyone for their prayers, fasting, and support. I have felt an outpouring of the spirit this last week like I have never felt in my life, and I know it is because everyone is praying for me and my family. So thank you, thank you, thank you. God has certainly heard your prayers for us.

I started chemo today with my chemo buddy, Keith (you may also know him as my husband). I sat in a large grey recliner in a big room full of people receiving chemo treatments. They hooked me up to the IV and gave me anti-nausea meds, then they injected the first Chemo drug, Adriamycin, a red liquid that they push into my vein with an oversized syringe. It actually looked just like red kool-aid. Next, they gave me the second Chemo drug, Cytoxan, through the IV. Then they gave me a shot of magical burning liquid, that is supposed to build up my blood counts, with the side effect of bone pain. We were there for about three hours, but it went by fast with my chemo buddy. We laughed and joked and talked the whole time. And to be honest, it was a relief to get started on the fight.

So here I am, laying in bed with my laptop, feeling nauseous and very, very tired. If you've ever wondered what chemo feels like, it feels kind of like poison is coursing through your veins ... probably because ... poison is coursing through your veins. Not a good feeling. But I am so grateful that the new drugs will keep me from throwing up. I hate throwing up more than anything! Well, except for cancer. Cancer is my new worst enemy.

Keith has turned into the perfect man these last couple weeks. He is constantly complimenting me, doing everything I ask, and asking me all the time how I feel. What more could a girl ask for? He has truly been an angel by my side. He has comforted me, given me blessings, reassured me 300 times that I'm not going to die. I am so grateful for the wonderful and amazing man that he is.

I'll keep you posted, and thanks again for all your prayers!