Both Sides Now…

When I was in college my close friend Maureen introduced me to the singer Joni Mitchell. I immediately fell in love with her melodic, and at times discordant, voice. She was a woman speaking her truth in her own way, and she really spoke to my hippie heart.

One of my particular favorite Joni songs is Both Sides Now. I personally love the version she recorded later in life, which has this beautiful melancholy and reflective tone. It’s a song that has always resonated with me, but has taken on new meaning for me with age as well as during this cancer journey.

If you haven’t heard the song, it goes like this:

Roes and floes of angel hair
and ice cream castles in the air
And feather canons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions I recall
I don't really know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I've looked at love that way

But now it's another show
You leave 'em laughing as they go
and if you don't care, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
It's loves illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all

Tears and  fears and feeling proud
To say, "I love you" right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
Well something's lost, but something's gained
In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

I've looked at life from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

Joni’s sentiment in these lyrics rings so true for me. As I child I grew up with little to worry about and with a very innocent and idealistic view of life and love. Like many, as I have gotten older there have been more struggles and challenges – crippling anxiety, infertility, post partem depression, the loss of loved ones, family discord, and now, cancer. It can be easy to let reality and pessimism to take over… to become jaded.

Many of you have inquired how chemoradiation is going. So far, I am a little tired and have a bit of nausea/digestive woes from the combination of chemo pills and radiation therapy. But the radiation treatments themselves are simple and painless, and the staff is really nice. However, I do have to admit that walking into that cancer center every day and then going to work and coming home to care for two little boys is a lot. There are little moments where “my sun feels blocked”.

By no means am I denying my true feelings or my reality, but I also know that keeping in mind “life’s illusions” and staying positive is my personal way of remaining sane and finding my way back to health. On these days that are hard, I am not even going so far as to take one day at a time. I am taking one minute, one task at a time. I am celebrating the small wins (like being halfway through radiation after tomorrow). I am taking the breaks I need, but I am also putting one foot in front of the other and keeping a smile on my face. I am hanging on the words of people who are telling me that I am doing a good job.

So going back to the illusions of life and love… maybe they are not illusions after all. We live in a time where we are being led to believe that humankind is going in the toilet. But these last few months would say otherwise to me. One beautiful deed in my honor has bred another. I have been shown that what good you put into the Universe, you often get back. I have seen ONE person inspire another, who then inspires another… I am inspired and thinking about what more I can do to give back once I am well. These are the dreams and schemes and circus crowds that continue to envelope me. You have no idea how living in the midst of this is making cancer almost something I wouldn’t trade.

With that in mind, as you turn in tonight, I leave you with Joni in her own voice…

XO- Mary

Little Big Shoes to Fill

Since my cancer diagnosis in February, I have received many beautiful blankets, afghans, and prayer shawls from friends, co-workers, and loved ones. I have literally snuggled with every single one of them, taking in the warmth and comfort. It’s like getting a hug from the person who sent it, and I have basked in the sentiment.

Several weeks back I received a package in the mail from our friends Mandy and Chris. In the package was a small hand-knitted blanket in a beautiful array of colors (about the size of place mat). I studied it for a bit, unsure exactly what it was, and then read the card. The card explained that this was actually the prayer shawl that was given to Chris and Mandy for their infant daughter Lucy. And now they were gifting it to me. It was then that I realized how much love and strength could be packed into something so small.

With the permission of her parents, I would like to tell you a little bit about Lucy. Lucy was born 9 weeks early, weighing just 2 pounds, 3 oz. She spent 3 months in NICU at Lurie Hospital following her birth. Unfortunately, after she was sent home, Lucy contracted RSV, Pneumonia, H1N1 Influenza, and a number of other infections. She was hospitalized and had to be intubated, receive several blood transfusions, and have a feeding tube placed due to her “failure to thrive”. I remember watching Lucy’s journey through social media, and trying to figure out how her parents were holding it together and balancing the rest of life and their other three children. But they fought hard for Lucy, and Lucy fought hard for herself. After three months, she was able to return home.

Today, Lucy is two and half. Her feeding tube has been removed, but she still remains a tiny 22 pounds. Overall she is a healthy, strong, and independent girl. This past summer her family came to visit, and I was amazed at how well she kept up with the big kids, one little step at a time.

This is a little girl with grit, and a little girl that fought with all of her being to overcome incredible odds – twice. And her parents chose to gift her prayer shawl to me… What an amazing symbol for me to cling to. It’s fights like Lucy’s that inspire me and remind me that I can do this. She has some little big shoes to fill! I will hold tightly to this shawl until I win this fight. And then I commit to Mandy and Chris that I will send the gift along to another soul who needs some strength and inspiration.

All in all, if I have come to no other conclusions in the last few months, the one I can certainly speak to it that human kindness is the medicine that is keeping me going… through chemo… through radiation… through the fears… through the doubts… and through the crazy balance of work, motherhood, and cancer. Thank you Mandy and Chris. Thank you Lucy. And thank you to all of you who remain in my corner.

XO –

Mary

I’ve Got to do This!

I am slacking recently on my blog posts, and I apologize for this! The last month I have been lucky to have a break from treatment while my care team got things squared away for my chemoradiation treatment that will start this coming week. It was nice to have a few side-effect free weeks to enjoy occasions like Mother’s Day and my future sister-in-law Jenn’s bachelorette party weekend.

Now, I am gearing up to get back to reality… About two weeks ago, I had my radiation simulation and associated CAT scan. They did my tattooing to prepare for where the radiation would be administered. They used ink and a surgical needle to apply the tattoos (which Brian says makes me “super hard core” – LOL). To my dismay they are just three little tiny dots, one at the tip of the tailbone and two in the glute area. I was at least hoping for something more fun like a shamrock. Maybe someday ;).

After reviewing the CT scans, my care team determined they wanted to use a method of radiation called IMRT, or Intensity-Modulated Radiation Therapy. As Memorial Sloan Kettering defines it, “IMRT is a type of cancer treatment that uses advanced computer programs to calculate and deliver radiation directly to cancer cells from different angles. It allows people with cancer to receive higher, more effective doses of radiation while limiting damage to the healthy tissues and organs around it. This increases your chance for a cure and lessens the likelihood of side effects.” I am excited to be able to benefit from this technology, and glad my insurance company finally approved it.

This coming Tuesday, I will have my first round of IMRT. Along with this, I will take oral chemo pills called Xolota daily. This regimen of treatment will be every week day for six weeks. I understand that side effects for this type of therapy usually start out ok and then worsen overtime – things like fatigue, diarrhea, nausea, and peeling hands and feet. I will admit that I am nervous about this impending treatment. Unlike my chemo, each day will be less predictable in terms of how I feel. I will also be balancing appointments for treatment every day, additional doctor visits, work, and being a mom all at the same time.

But I think my oncologist gave me the best advice in regard to this treatment. He said, “You have to do this.” He urged me not to go to the Internet to read horror stories or get too worked up about side effects because in the end, this is something I have to do to become well. And he is so right. I need to do this. I will do this. I will take it day by day, and promise to keep you all posted along the way.

XO – Mary

PS – Tomorrow I am so excited to be participating in Milan’s Miracle Run in honor of my favorite fellow warrior princess, Langley Lou Schillim 🙂 More on that in my next blog.

My brother Mark and Sister-in-Law Hailey put a love lock on the bridge in Paris for me 🙂

Chemo #5ish

Well, at some point it was probably inevitable that I would face a challenge or a setback in my cancer treatment, and last Friday was that point. About 30-45 minutes into my chemo infusion, I suffered an allergic reaction to the Oxaliplatin (one of the two chemo drugs I am taking). My face became bright red, I was having trouble breathing, and my heart rate was 148! I thought maybe it was just in my head, but then Brian took note of my horribly red face, and I knew something must be off. Luckily I was in the care of great nurses, who knew exactly what they were dealing with. They immediately unhooked my chemo and administered IV Benedryl and steriods. Within minutes, I was feeling better, albeit sleepy and unable to make a sentence with thinking very hard about it first (that IV Benedryl is no joke)!

Some have asked me if this it is normal to have a reaction 5 treatments into the process. I had the same question, and the nurses told me that sometimes it isn’t until the drug has built up in a person’s system after several rounds that they face a reaction like this.

After this episode, they stopped my Oxaliplatin infusion for the day, but I was able to go home with my 5FU pump and at least continue with that part of the treatment. My oncologist happened to also be onsite at the time of the reaction, and he felt it best that we switch gears for a bit. This will mean 6 weeks of radiation treatment 5 days per week. After that, we will finish out my last three rounds of chemo while admitted to the hospital, so I can be carefully monitored. They will infuse the chemo more slowly over 8 hours and administer IV Benedryl and other steroids prior to the treatment.

I will be honest, that it was a little bit mentally hard to switch gears on the treatment plan, but I know this is the best thing. It is also hard to know that I am up against 6 straight weeks of radiation. The side effects could be different from day to day and become more severe over time. I am a bit nervous to think about navigating my work day with radiation and the impending side effects – some of which include some bowel issues. But my co-workers have been VERY supportive, and I will just take it day by day.

I have my consultation with the radiological oncologist on Wednesday and should know a lot more after that. At that point, I will either be more or less nervous. We will see – LOL.

Over the last couple of weeks, there were days that I wished I could forget I have cancer for awhile, but it always seems to be in the back of my mind. However, at the same time, after recovering from my allergic reaction, I have felt pretty good physically. I have been able to enjoy the zoo with my boys, celebrate my friend Katie’s 40th birthday (she was kind enough to bring the “party” to me and didn’t mind that my 4-yr-old joined in), and had an excellent Mother’s Day starting with family time and ending with yoga. For these things, I am grateful. I am choosing to continue to focus on gratitude because at the end of day this could be so much worse and the good moments are still outweighing the bad.

I recently read Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. In this book, he says, “The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the sufferings it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity – even under the most difficult circumstances – to add a deeper meaning to his life.” In this journey, I am allowing myself to feel sad, angry, and defeated, but I am also putting that in its place. I am thinking hard about how I have accepted this fate and am embracing the opportunity to understand how it will strengthen me and add depth to my life and my being. This is yet to be seen, but I am looking forward to beating this so I can see the result.

XO – Mary

PS – A piece of good news! CT Scan results post Chemo #4, show no metastasis and tumor is stable (so no further growth). Woo hoo!

A Time to Mourn and a Time to Dance

Some of you may know that my mom’s oldest brother Dick died this past week. I have determined that getting older brings with it many hard things and realizations. But losing aging or ill grandparents and aunts and uncles is probably for me one of the hardest, especially growing up in an environment where family is the center of everything.

But as mentioned in my blog last week, I am lucky to have had my uncle in my life for almost 40 years, and he and my Aunt “Shoe” (Sue) have been an ever-present part of that life. With this presence, brings memories of Dickies love of Motown music and the dance the “Tighten Up” as well as his love of old scary movies and TV shows. I have a very recent memory of him convincing my two little boys (age 3 and 4) that Stanley the Friendly Ghost lived in my parents’ back yard. They are still convinced he is there and will be forever looking for him. Dick was a tremendous story teller, and I will truly miss his animated stories about old family members, growing up on Lotus, and Sr. Catchatin. I am honestly not sure how many of the stories were real, but they never got old.

Today’s funeral was the perfect send-off for Dick. Everything about seemed just the way he would have wanted it. During the Mass, I was asked to read the following passage:

There is an appointed time for everything,
a and time for every affair under the heavens.
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to tear down, and a time to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them;
a time to embrace, and time to be far from embraces.
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away.
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to be silent, and a time to speak.
A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace.

I have heard this verse so many times, but in the last few years, and especially few months, there is so much about this passage that rings true to me. The challenging and sad moments in life, I think we often want to wish away or avoid, but there is so much to be learned and gained from truly living and being in those moments. This week was another opportunity to remind myself of this and to receive what came with this experience of death and sorrow. Following on the heels of this sorrow and loss was a wonderful celebration of Dick’s life, a chance to be with family and friends, and more importantly to remind me how grateful I am to have my family. As my siblings and I were walking down the isle to bring up communion today, I had my two sisters-in-law at my sides. I kept thinking how lucky I am to have them, my brothers, my husband, my parents, and our extended family to lean on not only today, but also in my cancer journey.

Days like these also are a great reminder that we are stronger than we think. We march on. We laugh. We cry. We do wonderful things. We mess up. We try again. Because we have this opportunity to live. And when die will do so knowing we have done our best. And I am not sure that we or God could ask for anything more… XO – Mary

Cause I Gotta Have Faith…

From the time that I was a little girl, I was always interested in faith and religion. I am a Catholic and grew up going to Catholic school, but I was fortune to have experiences attending the Baptist church of my babysitter Sandra and also partaking in some Jewish services and traditions with our close family friends, the Berlins. As I grew older, I took classes in college on theology and world religions, and in my work life have been fortunate to have co-workers of different faiths to share their thoughts and experiences with me.

Now in this cancer journey, I am so grateful for the prayers of many faiths – various denominations of Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, and agnostic but spiritual. I have been told of friends praying with their pastors and rabbis and the Dominican nuns (with whom my Aunt works) praying for me in community. There have been candles lit at the grotto at Notre Dame and in churches around the country. I am moved by stories of families praying around the dinner table, and the nine-year old daughter of my friend Laura kneeling before her bed on a regular basis to say a rosary for me. There have been prayer circles at the church where I grew up, Eucharistic adoration, masses said, and even yoga intentions. This last week, my co-worker Howard offered a Hebrew prayer for me at the Western Wall in Israel.

I say this not to brag, but rather to tell you that no matter your faith, religion, or spiritual path, you have lifted me up. The outcome of this journey will be what it will be, but with this support, I will carry on.

During a Holy Thursday service this past week with the Dominican Sisters, I heard one of the best sermons of my life from Sr. Maureen Geary. During this sermon she quoted Gabe Huck who said, “But we are church, and we are forever trying to love the world the way God loves it.” I thought this sentiment to be so beautiful and true. And in my cancer experience, today and over the last two months, I have lived it and felt it from you. May I model that same love…

XO – Mary

Candle Lit at the University of Notre Dame Grotto

Hebrew Prayer Offered at the Western Wall

Lessons I Learned in the Little White Car

When I was a little girl, my Aunt Mary would often pick me up in her little white car. I was extremely chatty and inquisitive, so these rides in the little white car were pretty much a dream come true. Mary and I would listen to “The Boss”, the Rolling Stones, and Peter, Paul, and Mary (to this day, I love Stewball and Lemon Tree) while making our way to the beach in Grand Haven, Kingmas Market, or Grandma Muffy’s house.

On these rides over the years we covered so many topics from the reality of Santa, to fitting in, becoming a woman, feminism, faith, race, social justice, and poverty and hunger in Africa. Mary talked with me about her experience with the Big Sisters program and introduced me to her idols, Mother Teresa and Gandhi. In addition to the values instilled in me by my parents, I think these conversations helped to shape the woman I am today, the things that I passionate about, and most definitely what I often describe as my “hippie heart.”

As we rode along, Mary would remind me of two important rules and ask me to repeat them: Be nice to people and act like you own the joint. Over the years she has told me that she would rephrase these, but regardless of the exact words, the essence still holds true. Confidence, kindness, and emotional intelligence have been absolute “north stars” for me as I have traveled through life in jobs, in relationships, in motherhood, and in my community work. And now, these values are even more important as I journey through cancer.

If I am being honest with all of you and with myself, chemo #3, wasn’t as easy as the first two. The chemo day itself was fine, and overall, I am finding mechanisms to cope, but the side effects lasted a few days longer, and I didn’t feel back to myself for about a full week. But I did my best to power through and not let cancer stop me from doing the things that feed my soul. I was able to attend a fundraiser for my good friend Mindy Ysasi, who is running for a city commission role. I also went to a 40th birthday celebration for one of my oldest friends from my childhood, Alicia Korreck (Williams). By Saturday, I was feeling much better and the sun was out, so I got to enjoy a walk in the woods with all my boys, including Gus.

This week, I am feeling great, and I am ready to tackle chemo #4 with confidence. After this round, I will be halfway done with chemo. Scans on Tuesday will track the progress of the chemo and ensure all other areas outside the rectum/colon still look clear. Soon, my doctors will also make the call to continue chemo straight through round #8 or “sandwich” the two weeks of radiation in between.

There are big things to come this week, but I will do it with the continued support of all of you. I am so grateful that your prayers, texts, cards, and well wishes continue. I am also grateful for the lessons I learned in the little white car, from my parents, and from all my aunts and uncles. I consider myself to be the lucky recipient of 6 aunts/uncles on my mom’s side (plus their significant others). Their path in life for one reason or another did not include children of their own. So they have poured their focus into me, my brothers, and their grand nephews and niece. They have been there for us during some of the hardest, most pivotal, and joyous moments, my cancer journey being just one of those. To Mary, Jimmy, Tracy, Sue, Dick, Mike, Sharon, and Annie, thank you for being in my life. Families are complicated and we aren’t always perfect, but we do our best, and I am grateful for you whether the times are perfect or imperfect.

XO – Mary

Thoughtful Thursday

Until I had cancer, I never realized how much craziness – terrible and beautiful – could occur in one week.

It’s been seven days since Chemo Round 2. I have to say that this round overall was filled with much less anxiety. My clinic appointment was a little later than usual so I had the opportunity to do yoga at my favorite studio and have brunch with Brian before going in. That set the stage for a much more relaxed experience. During chemo, I even had the chance to meet a new friend. Chelsea is my age and has been battling Stage 4 colon cancer for a year, while raising two small children, working as a physician, and actively advocating for the colorectal cancer cause. I have found her perseverance and advocacy inspiring and glad to have made a friend who can identify with my experience (and who rocks an iridescent fanny pack with the best of them).

With one round of chemo under my belt and some new meds on board, my overall side effects from round two were manageable. It took me about a day longer to be feeling on the “upswing” this time, and some other side effects like neuropathy in my hands and mouth sores reared their head. But all of this is normal, and I just keep reminding myself that this experience will make me stronger.

That might sound cliché, but honestly I am already finding this experience has made me wiser and has made my heart more open. My first boss Terry Meredith always used to remind us that “we had two ears and one mouth, and it was important to use those gifts with that in mind”. So much of this journey so far has been about listening (and as someone who LOVES to talk, this has been good practice). Mostly, it has been about listening to what I know my spirit and body need. So often in my life I have been BUSY – preoccupied with work, the house, errands, etc. While going through chemo, I have been forced to sit down more and work less. And in doing so, I have been more present. I have enjoyed more quiet moments with my boys, whereas two months earlier I would have been scurrying around picking up toys instead of just being with them.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have also had the opportunity to build bridges with some family members and friendships in my life have become richer and deeper. Some have asked me if I am angry to have cancer. And the truth is I don’t feel one bit angry. I feel like this is my path, and although parts are (and will continue to be) very hard, it will bring many amazing gifts along the way.

Week after week, I have been lifted up by the beautiful gestures of love and support from friends and family. But I will admit that by yesterday some anxiety of the unknown began to sink in. What if this treatment doesn’t work? What if my cancer spreads? Am I being too optimistic about my prognosis? It was then that a gesture from a friend and room full of little strangers was there to lift me back up…

A friend of my friend Sarah Miller is an elementary school teacher. Thursdays in her class are deemed “Thoughtful Thursdays”, where the children are given the opportunity to participate in acts of kindness. This week the students of Room 119 spent their time writing me cards to lift my spirits “because they knew it had been a hard month for me”. These children have never met me, and yet they were creating beautiful cards with things that I like (rainbows, yoga, Notre Dame, my dog, poetry, and the colon cancer ribbon). They urged me to be brave and strong and to “fight like the Fighting Irish”. I have watched this video about 20 times today, and I am still speechless. To Sarah, Laura, and the kids of Room 119, you have given me one of the most best gifts of my life and at a time when I could not have used it more.

Life is complicated and hard, but its worth living for all the wonderful things in between and to experience the love and human kindness that will always prevail.

XO – Mary

PS – To see the kids of Room 119 in their act of kindness this week, you can tune in here:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=tTNck9gSdBc&feature=youtu.be

An Irish Jig

I have been toiling for the last few days over how to accurately put this last weekend into words…

Every year, Spectrum Health puts on a 5K run/walk called the Irish Jig the week leading up to St. Patrick’s Day. This year, the race proceeds benefitted colorectal cancer. With my recent diagnosis in mind, my high school friend, Ashley Brennan, organized a group of my friends and family to take part in the race on my behalf.

As I entered the East Grand Rapids gym on Saturday morning before the start of the race, I was overwhelmed to see 40+ friends and family members there to support me. In a sea of green and shamrocks and leprechauns were friends from grade school and high school, friends of my brothers, co-workers, and even parents of friends that showed up. My high school prom date, Matt Korte, brought me flowers that were reminiscent of the nosegay he gave me on prom night in 1998. My brothers and sisters-in-law had coordinated to have “Mary Princess Warrior” t-shirts made, and Ashley had “Team Mary” fandanas printed. There was also a huge sign that said “Five Hopes for One Fear” in honor of this blog and my journey. As I saw my friends Derek and Matt holding that sign above the crowd in the gym for the first time, I was completely overcome with emotion and gratitude. Throughout the race, I had friends join me at the finish line and even had friends that were unable to make it but sent me loving texts and messages to tell me they were with me in spirit.

Through this journey I have already learned so many things, but the depth of gratitude I have felt is probably the most unbelievable and life-changing for me. How grateful I am is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. I have said this on my blog several times before, but I don’t know how I will begin to pay back the love, support, kindness, and prayers that all of you have offered to me without any expectations attached. At some point, I know I will figure it out. And I will never again under estimate the power of “showing up” for people when they need you in whatever form it might be.

Looking back over my life, it seems many of my experiences of God’s love have come in times of hardship and they have often come through the actions and humanity of those around me. This weekend is the perfect example. It is clear to me that just as much as I need this reflection of God at the moment, I must also strive to reflect that love back.

For those of you that know me well, you know one of my idols has always been Mother Teresa. My Aunt Mary introduced me to her and her works at a young age, and I have come to appreciate her even more in adulthood. She wrote and said a daily prayer I have loved for a long time, but it has come to have so much more meaning over the last few weeks. So for tonight, I will leave you with that prayer…

Dear God, help me to spread Thy fragrance everywhere I go. Food my soul with Thy spirit and love. Penetrate and possess my whole being so utterly that all my life may only be a radiance of Thine. Shine through me and be so in me that every soul I come in contact with may feel Thy presence in my soul. Let them look up and see no longer me but only you. Stay with me and then I shall begin to shine as you shine, so as to shine as to be a light to others. Amen.

Thank you again for a weekend that is going to help carry me through this tough road.

From the bottom of my heart… XO

Turning a Corner

On Sunday, as my chemo pump was detached and the intravenous nausea meds were wearing off, I hit my low point. I felt as though aliens had snatched my body and not one single solitary type of food or drink sounded palatable. It was then that the anxiety set in. How long would I feel like this? Could it possibly get any worse? How could I be a good mom, wife, friend, and co-worker when I felt this awful? Again, I started to panic. I cried on Brian. I cried on my parents. I cried alone.

My mom, dad, and Brian reassured me that it was ok to meltdown and feel angry. My mom (also a cancer survivor) reminded me that it was completely warranted for me to use the F-bomb as much as I wanted. But they also reminded me to take a deep breath and that things would get better. Because my mom had been through this before, I did my best to trust her.. For the rest of the day, I worked with the nursing team to dial in my anti-nausea meds and distracted myself with HGTV and movies with my boys.

When Monday came along, the sun was shining, I was able to keep down an Ensure for breakfast, and things seemed a bit less dim. I listened to my body and mostly rested so that I could have some quality time with the boys when the got home from school and work. And then came Tuesday… I only had to take one dose of anti-nausea medication and was able to do work from my new home office (my bed). Texts, cards, fuzzy socks, flowers, prayer shawls, and other thoughtful gifts continued to arrive as if to say, “You can do this. We are with you.” When today rolled around, my appetite was starting to return, and I felt like my old self. I was back to the office by the afternoon, and it was so good to see my co-workers and get back to “real life”.

With one round of chemo down and time to see the side effects through, I know now I can do this and what I can do to help manage through it. I would be lying if I said that 7 more rounds sounds a little daunting, but just going to take it one at a time. I was reminded by someone sharing a similar health struggle that four months will be over before I know it. And although I had a few dark moments this week, I was also reminded that cancer CANNOT take away my spirit and my essence (or as my old boss coined it my “Mary-ness”). That is here to stay.

XO- Mary