grief / joy

2017 November

Grief/Joy

Recently I reread a post to our now defunct travel blog, in which I memorialized Greyla, who had been our 'final' dog and also our travel companion. She left us in November 2014, eleven months after my Daddy died. Daddy was diagnosed with stage 4 non-small cell lung cancer in February 2013. We left Florida, and returned to Pittsburgh, in order to spend time with him. During our stay in the only campground open in winter in the Pittsburgh area, our then nearly 14 year old dog, began to present symptoms which lead to her having major surgery just a couple of weeks before her birthday. At the time, I told God that I could not handle losing both my Dad and my dog in the same year. 

Seemed like God decided otherwise. My Dad passed away in January, 2014. We had Greyla with us until November, 2014. Both gone in the same year, granted eleven months apart, but still… I supposed that God decided eleven months was enough space for healing. It really wasn’t.

All of this has resurfaced in the past couple of days. I have begun to revisit the cumulative grief, and to a lesser degree, the joy, that we experience when we open our hearts and allow ourselves to love.

The catalyst for the current examination of joy, and grief results from our current experience as foster parents to a lovely, sweet, gentle, 12 year old black Lab, named Coco.

Coco was taken to the Beaver County Humane Society by the son of her previous owner, with the request that she be euthanized. The shelter staff explained that they could not, in good conscience, euthanize her simply based on her age, but offered to take her into the shelter, and try to place her, if they would sign Coco over. 

Coco’s entrance into our lives and hearts came a couple of weeks later.

Ray and I often do cat transports for Beaver County Humane Society, and also happen to be friends with the veterinarian currently working at BCHS. Those two things worked together to effectively draw us into the world of fostering, which we had never even considered prior to August.

Before Coco came into our lives, I had been adamant that I was done as a dog parent. I had loved Blue, Jake, Baxter, Katie, and Greyla. I had cried tears of loss with each of them, but especially with Blue, and Jake, and Greyla. I had changed. I now appreciated having a clean house. I was so certain that dogs were part of my past, and not of my future, that we adopted a bonded pair of kitties. "Yes!" I declared,"Cats are so much easier than dogs." And I enumerated all the ways in which that was so. 

Yet, when we sat in the visitation room, at the shelter, in August, with Coco, she began to worm her way into my heart, stink and all! Jump ahead, from our initial meeting with Coco, on August 16, to the day we brought her home, on August 19, to how we have fallen in love with her, to very recently, when we became worried about her health. 

A few weeks ago I began to notice that Coco’s breath was getting very stinky. My concern was that she might be developing a renal issue, although her fluid intake and output remained consistent. Then last weekend, I noted that her water was tinged pink after she had been drinking. I tried to examine her mouth, using a flashlight, but couldn’t really notice anything wrong with any of her teeth, the roof of her mouth, or her gums. But then, I am not a veterinary medical professional. So, I contacted the one person I could access easily at the BCHS, via messenger on Facebook. She, in turn, contacted the medical person from the shelter. 

Then later, during business hours, I was at the shelter for a transport, and spoke with one of the technicians, who said that there would be no Vet available until Tuesday, since the shelter is closed for business on Sunday and Monday, and this was Saturday afternoon. I said that I understood, and that I would’ve texted the Vet personally, but really didn’t want to impinge  on our friendship, especially since it didn’t seem to be life threatening, and the amount of pinkness left behind in her water seemed to be lessening. Of course, her breath was still atrocious! But, it kind of was beginning to match her general metabolic stench, for which we have not yet found a cure.

Weird, huh? Coco is old, and stinky, but we love her! She is simply a sweet, gentle, amazingly non-reactive, dog. She is sweet with our kitties, and with our next door neighbor’s kitties, as well. When we are out walking, and dogs bark at her, she never reacts. She is the most "chill" dog we have ever known. She is very predictable in her day to day habits. She eats what we give her. She takes her medication, her supplements, and anything else we offer her, without any drama, or problem. She actually prefers when I place the paste-like probiotic she takes, in the palm of my hand, and allow her to lick it off, rather than placing it in a syringe and squirting it into her mouth. She never has attempted to get on any of the furniture, or the bed. She dislikes being too warm, and often opts to lay directly on the tile floor, instead of on the rug, or on her bed. She barks only when she is needful to go outside to pee or poop, and then it is generally one, sad, plaintive "wooof". She is simply, a good dog. And I love her! And, she loves me. She usually will follow me to whichever room I am in, and when I go into the bathroom, she stares at the shut door, until I once again emerge. 

So, grief and joy… currently the grief is because we will, in all probability, lose Coco sometime within the next 2-3 months. She has an infected, cancerous growth under her tongue. I can, today, type that without immediately being reduced to a sobbing mess. She is on antibiotics to try and get the infection under control. So far, her appetite is not affected, nor is her ability to chew. She does not exhibit signs of pain. So, the plan is to offer palliative care, observe and treat any pain development, or appetite issues, and help her to feel loved, cared for, and comfortable, until the end of her days. The joy currently comes from remembering how sad and forlorn she looked in the kennel at the shelter, and knowing that she has been happy here, with us. The joy comes from waking up in the middle of the night, and hearing her snoring on her bed, in the corner of our room. Joy comes from simple things, like taking her for walks around the neighborhood, watching her scarf up her kibble and bone broth, seeing her stroll to the kitchen after our walk, because she knows that’s where the treats are, and she knows that she gets a treat when we get home. Today, joy came from watching her catch 6 hulless popcorns in a row with missing. Joy comes from knowing that she has known love in our home. 

But, grief and joy come and go, and not always in balance.

Hearing the diagnosis on Tuesday afternoon was a gut punch! And it opened unexpected flood gates to past grief. But, I am blessed to have a good friend who offered support, and insight. I am also blessed to have a "pollyanna" husband, who even in the midst of this circumstance, which affects him too, was able to find good. It is a hard situation, but we have been through hard events before, and come through, so I have faith that we will ultimately be OK. 

In the meantime, we will walk our sweet old girl, brush her, give her treats and medicine, put bone broth on her food, cook her brown rice because she likes it, let her sleep where she wants, listen to the sound of her snoring, help her to live a happy, loved rest of her life, and be grateful that we brought her into our home, our lives and and our hearts!    

    

TOO MUCH

2013 September 

Too Much in a Short Time

There have been multiple events that have had the effect of overwhelming me both very recently, and over the last several months. I want to share, because I think part of the centering process for me, is in sharing.

There is the ongoing circumstance of my Dad and his cancer diagnosis and prognosis. After spending about five months in Pittsburgh after Daddy's surgery, unrelated to the cancer, and the cancer diagnosis, we spent eight weeks traveling before returning to the area on September 19.

One reason for the return to Pittsburgh was my Dad's 88th birthday. Another, was a series of doctor's appointments and procedures that I wanted to accomplish before heading south for the winter. And, additionally, it was time to have the difficult conversations with Daddy regarding his wishes regarding end of life issues. 

All of this has been emotionally draining. Add to that, the fact that I have been diligently trying to reduce my dependence of Prozac to treat my depressive symptoms for the last year, and I seem to have hit an emotional wall. In fact, I hit that wall and began to slide down it. The fact that I was also ingesting a hormone as part of the treatment of hyper estrogen production, contributed to my emotional fragility, too. And that hormone was making me extremely emotional and skewed my already impaired perceptions.

The breaking point seemed to come about three weeks ago. My thought processes became very dark. I recognized the shift enough to reach out via text message to my former therapist, requesting an appointment when we arrived in Pittsburgh. I am grateful that her cell number hadn't changed, and that I kept that number. I am also grateful that I knew that if I made an appointment to see her, it would help me hang on until we got back in the Pittsburgh area.

All of that is related to the emotional aspects of my life. Then there are the physical aspects.

We arrived in the Pittsburgh area in September 19. The morning of the 20th, I had an appointment for a uterine biopsy. Still feeling very depressed, and anxious, I was overreactive when the OB-Gyn was, as usual, running behind schedule. Our interaction was less than pleasant, especially when I was emphatic about NEVER taking progesterone ever again. I left his office angry and unsatisfied with regard to the state of my estrogen/uterine health, and awaiting biopsy results. 

The following Monday, I had three doctor's appointments. First was my PCP, for an annual check up, for which I had already had blood work done. Because she is a caring and thorough doctor, she is also notorious for running behind schedule, and because I love her, I forgive her. It is also why, if possible, I try to schedule to be her first appointment of the day. I arrived at 7:50, for my 8AM appointment. At 8:20, I was getting extremely nervous and agitated, as my next appointment was at 8:45, one floor above. I set the timer on my phone to go off with enough time to get up the stairwell and to the next appointment on time. When my Dr. entered the room, I held up the phone, showing her the timer and announced that she had six minutes. To her credit, she took one look at me and asked, "Are you thinking of harming yourself?"  I immediately broke down, sobbing. Her ability to cut to the chase when necessary is another reason I love her. We discussed, (quickly), my Prozac dosage, my upcoming therapy appointment, the results of my blood work, and my Dad's situation. When my alarm went off, she told me to take the emergency door, so as not to be late for my urology appointment, and to come back later to pay my co-pay and pick up prescriptions. 

By the time I made it into the Urologist's office, only one minute late, I was feeling like maybe the world wasn't collapsing in on me, and that maybe, if I increased my Prozac, even temporarily, I might find my way out into daylight again.

My urologist is another doctor whom I love. I am completely comfortable with him. When he entered the room, he asked if I had any questions. I told him my only question was the date of my last bladder tumor and if it was long enough ago, could I move to yearly cystos. He said that he had wondered that very thing himself, and checked my records. Turned out my last "new" tumor had been in August 2009, so barring any developments, I could move to yearly checks of my bladder. As he was doing the procedure, I was chatting with the nurse, so I was unprepared when Dr. Traub said, " We may have jinxed ourselves. There is a new growth at the top of your bladder wall that we need to remove."  While I do love Dr. Traub, I was looking forward to seeing him once a year. Now, suddenly, I knew I was back to the every three month schedule, and it felt like the low point in my day. The good news was that because he is aware of our lifestyle, he went above and beyond to schedule the removal (fulgeration) later the same week. 

When I finished with the urologist, I had thirty minutes before my next and final appointment of the day at the Orthopedic surgeon's. I went and paid my PCP and picked up paperwork. If I had eaten, I would've gone and had some follow up blood work done, but since I hadn't and Dr. Ebbert clearly stated this was "non-fasting", I put it off for another day.

At the Orthopedist's office, I got taken back to an exam room right at 10. Things were looking up again, since my appointment was for 10. Little did I know… Dr. Smith arrived in the exam room around 10:15, which wasn't too bad. He was much more engaging than on my previous visit. He showed me my MRI and explained all that was happening in my cervical spine, little of which was good. We discussed my initial positive response to Medrol and the return of my symptoms after seven weeks. We discussed my symptoms and the probability of their progression. He tested my arm strength, which shortly thereafter induced more symptoms. He told me that I was "on the surgery track." This was NOT something I had expected to hear. He also said that surgery wasn't necessary immediately, but would be in the near future. I asked about cortisone injections. He explained that he generally doesn't like to inject necks, but that, in any case, mine was not a single area problem, but rather, a three tier problem. That means that my cervical spine isn't just screwed up in one area, but in three! (Just typing that makes me want to cry.) 

I told him that I had gotten the cervical traction kit and he suggested I also get a soft cervical collar to wear at night, in hopes of making sleeping easier. We discussed the possibility of anti-inflammatory drugs. But all of these are short term, stop gap measures, until I decide to have him cut my neck. 

He explained the procedure, too. A small incision would be made in my left anterior neck. My trachea and esophagus would be moved to the right, while my carotid artery and large neck muscle would be moved to the left, allowing a clear plane for the surgeon. He would then chip away the bone which is causing pressure on the nerve that passes through it, in several areas. Then cadaver bone would be placed, essentially as a spacer. And this comes with all the "normal" surgical risks, in addition to the additional risks involved with spinal surgery. As to the cadaver bone, it is used because to use bone from one's own hip is extremely painful, and, I am assured, cadaver bone works just as well. 

To say I was overwhelmed would be a gross understatement!

I did ask if I could wait until spring for the surgery. Dr. Smith said I could, if my symptoms allowed, and revisited the progression I might experience. I explained that we have a rental commitment in Florida for the winter. His response, is still puzzling to me. He said, " Well, if you wait until February for the surgery, I'll need to re-evaluate you in January."  In what universe is February, spring? Anyway, what he meant was that if I put the surgery off for longer that 90 days, the insurance company will require him to re-evaluate me prior to the scheduling process. To be honest, I still haven't quite wrapped my brain around all the logistics involved when I schedule the surgery. But, more about that later. 

That was all on Monday. Monday night, I did increase my Prozac dosage as suggested by Dr. Ebbert. Tuesday, I had an appointment with my former therapist, Lisa. Wednesday, I bought a soft cervical collar, which produced my first good night's sleep in several weeks. I also tried to fill a prescription for anti-inflammatories, but ran into an insurance snag. Still trying to get that sorted. On Thursday, I had my fulgeration of my "new" tumor, and Dr. Traub graciously has allowed me to either have my next cyst in March, or, if I come back sooner for the neck surgery, he'll see me sooner.

I am feeling brighter, thanks to increased Prozac. So, the emotional strains are getting under control. The physical strains? Well, that remains to be seen.

Today is Saturday. Monday my brother, Vinny and I will take our Dad for his oncology recheck. Perhaps the emotional strains will be tested further. 

2011 July 11: An Old Email Letter Found

2011 July 11



[This is an email letter I sent to friends back when I was first suspected of having bladder cancer. I recently found it buried among other things in my documents folder. It made me wonder who this person was, because I don't feel I have this level of faith and trust at the moment.]

Feb 22 2008

Dear family, friends and wonderful intercessory pray-ers,

This is just a note to let you all know that everything went well on

Friday with the surgical removal of the bladder tumor that was only just found last Monday.  

I am feeling pretty good, and only have some pain (which is relieved

with extra strength Tylenol) upon urination. I am keeping well hydrated, which will help the healing process.  The tumor will be biopsied and results should be available in 5 working days. I will let you know what happens when I know.  For right now, I am at peace, because God has me in His hands and I am ever so aware of His presence.

Throughout this whirlwind week, things have happened that I know to be 

Providential. The discovery of the bladder tumor during the course of

an examination for something completely unrelated...the availability of

both the appointment with the urologist AND the surgical time, due to

cancellations by other patients...especially considering that the urologist was booked through mid-March...the presence of  people in my path to testify personally about the nature of this type of cancer (if it turns out to be cancer).  There are no coincidences, only God incidences.

The doctor said candidly that this type of tumor is cancerous in 80% of

cases.  Well, that means it's NOT cancer in 20%, right? I'm hanging onto that!  But, the Doctor and some of those 'others' who passed through my life this week, also said in not so many words, that if you have to get cancer, this is the one to have, because it is generally a contained type which does not spread.  So, either way you look at it, it's good news.

There are so many things for which I am grateful. The love and kindness

shown to me has been a wonder. I am blessed to have such support.  From my dear brother who was the first to see me immediately after the urology appointment when I was scared and approaching a meltdown, to Raymond who has been my rock, to my wonderful friend and SIL, Barb, who took the day off work, took me to the hospital and then kept Raymond company during the procedure, to all my praying friends and cyber pals.  God has blessed me with an incredible support system!  

As a good friend said just the other day, "If God brings you to it,

He'll bring you through it". To that I say, "Amen!" 

The graciousness of my employer in the midst of this situation is also a blessing.  This has created havoc in her life, yet she made phone calls on my behalf to ask for prayers. 

The week before all this began, we had one of the most relaxing, wonderful and enjoyable vacations EVER, in the 4WD area of Currituck County, North Carolina.  That was definitely a gift from God. He was lying the ground work of peace and comfort, of learning to rest in Him that I would need so desperately during this week just past. 

Praise God with me!  He is good all the time. He is in control all the time. We have His promise that He is with us always (Matt 28:20).  Never have I been more sure of that promise than during these last two weeks.

In Gratitude for His Peace,

JeanMarie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


[Followed by this email one week later]

2008 Feb 29 More on Bladder Cancer

Dear friends,

The biopsy report came back positive for cancer.  However, it was low stage, low grade and contained: all excellent news! In addition, the tumor was growing out & up, which means it didn't infiltrate surrounding tissue. I have a CT scan scheduled for 3/7, a post op Dr's visit ion 3/18, and barring anything as yet undiscovered, I will see the urologist every three months for the next two years. It's all good!


On 3/5 I have a gynecologic appointment to address issues that lead me to have the original ultrasound that found the bladder tumor.  Hopefully all will go well with that appointment, as well.  After talking to both my PCP & Urologist and asking the questions that I awoke in the middle of the night mulling over, I fell very sure that the two problems are completely unrelated.  Since they both revolved around abnormal cell growth, I had many questions.  I thank God that I have a long-term relationship with my PCP and feel comfortable asking her anything, even those questions which may seem insipid, or unnecessary.  Plus, there is a comfort in the fact that she knows me & my husband and sees us a whole, complete, entities, not just the sum of our "parts".


Thank you, all of you. It has been a great comfort to know that you have been praying me through this process.  I am blessed to have so many good friends and prayer partners.  I thank God for each and every one of you.


Apparently, if you must have cancer, this is the one to have.  Seriously, because it was low grade, low stage, and contained, it is extremely unlikely that I will need any further treatment.  The need to be followed closely is due to the good possibility that this type of tumor may re-grow.  However, by frequent visits to the urologist, any new growth can be spotted early and removed in his office, without further surgeries and anesthesia. 


Cancer has long been a dreaded fear of mine. My Mother died at age 49 from lung cancer.  I often thought that cancer would take me at a young age and spent a good portion of my 49th year living in dread. I have lost friends to the disease and have seen other friends and family plod through the diagnosis of "cancer" to come out the other side, scathed but alive.  I am no longer afraid of cancer.  This experience opened my eyes to what possibilities there are in living without fear, knowing that God is in control. 


Again, thanks to all of you and may God bless you.


Love,

JeanMarie

Shared Post

This started out as notes. I wasn't sure if the notes would be for a blog post on Mind Flotsam or on Me And Ray And A Dog Named Grey. In the end, I decided to simply post it as is, on both blogs. Yes, I am lazy :) But, the longer post I have been trying to work on for weeks detailing Daddy's illness, surgery, discovery of cancer, and our journey back to Pittsburgh, just doesn't seem to be coming together. So here is something, anyway. ~jm

2013 Apr 7 Notes for possible blog post

One of my Facebook friends is Jamie The Very Worst Missionary. I also subscribe to  her blog posts. Today her blog led me to the website of her church, Lakeside, in Folsom CA. That in turn led me to blog posts by the pastor. Which led me to sobbing at my table as I read about the pastor's Mom and her passing.

The posts were poignant and funny, to use the pastor's word: Bittersweet.

One reason I was so touched by the posts, is that my own Daddy is dying. And to quote Brad, "we're all dying, but this is different". Very different when it is someone you've loved all your life. 

Selfish: he's 87 I have friends who lost their Dads at much younger ages. I don't care! I want my Daddy! (I seem to fluctuate between the bossy former nurse, the oldest child organizing things, and the terrified eight year old. that exclamation came from the eight year old.)

Selfish again: he told the oncologist, "Doc, I've been around long enough" He seems to accept his mortality. I have trouble with that.

Selfish & guilty: well meaning friends ask if my Dad knows Jesus. My response has become: in a Catholic way. Cop out? Truth? I fear bringing up the topic of Jesus, redeemer and salvation, because I don't want to alienate my Daddy.  We are talking more than we ever have in all our years. Not just about sports & superficial stuff. For the first time, Daddy is sharing with me stories about his feelings, things he loved doing, his friends, his interactions with the parish priest, Fr Matthew Kebe, when Daddy was a teen & an adult, and lots of other personal insights. I do not want to approach him in any way that will close off this flow of  interaction. I fear if I say something about Jesus, he will shut down on me and all opportunities will be lost…

Trying to maintain trust in the Lord: perhaps I  am grasping at straws, but I see this mornings sequence of Jamie's post and where it led, as a sign that God has it all under control. I also saw that same sign in Daddy's sharing stories about Fr Kebe with me on Easter. 

(Partially because when I was having difficulty, many years ago, accepting my former pastor's declaration that he would not baptist me, my friend Martha shared something she had written regarding not re-baptising an adult who had been baptized as an infant. She sighted the work of the Holy Spirit, and how we can never really KNOW, which caused me to think about Fr Kebe. I had not thought of him, maybe ever!  Yet, after reading Martha's paper, he came to mind. And somehow, knowing what a godly man, priest, he was gave me peace that even if my parents were having me baptized at 3 weeks old out of Catholic convention, the faith and dedication of the priest bringing me before the Lord, and HIS connection through the Holy Spirit were enough to allow the Spirit to work in me.)

Anyway, I am trusting that through the same Holy Spirit, God will give me words when the time is right, to talk to my Daddy about the redemption offered to all through Jesus death and resurrection. Perhaps our shared remembrances of Fr Kebe will be the door that leads to that conversation...   

A Day of Excitement

2011 August 24

Yesterday was pretty exciting! In fact, it was so exciting that I almost forgot to write about it. Well, didn't forget exactly, just got so tired that I went to bed before 7:30 PM. Don't judge me! Apparently earthquakes can really suck the energy out of a person. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

The day started off with a visit to my Urologist for my regular three month cystoscopy. Dr. T saw no new tumors! YEA!!!! And double YEA, since that means that I get bumped up to every six month cystoscopes now. I forgot to ask him how long I have to be tumor free to get bumped to once yearly, but I'll ask him when I see him in six months! Curious too to find out how long I must remain tumor free to be considered cancer free.

After the doc, I picked up my brother and we had a late breakfast together. That was nice. One of the things I will miss when we're traveling is those occasional breakfasts with Vinny. Is it odd that one of my brother's is my best friend? Well, even if it is, I don't really care. He's one of only a few people whom I know I can always count on.

When I dropped him off, our Daddy snoozing on the front porch so I just headed home.

I hadn't been home very long, when there was a shaking of our whole house. Truth be told, I was in the bathroom and thought I was hallucinating at first. The bathroom window seemed to be moving in and out. I also had a strange butterflies - in - my - stomach feeling, as if we were moving up and down in an elevator. As I ran down the stairs to the first floor, yelling, "Raymond, did you feel that?" I was pretty sure it had been an earthquake.

Now, I have heard about animals who react prior to such occurrences. Let me assure you, Greyla is not one of those wonder dogs! Before I had ventured to the second floor, I had been on the front porch, reading the newspaper. Greyla was stretched out on the glider. She did not move from her spot, neither to accompany me indoors, nor, apparently as a result of any rocking and shaking the house did. I looked out to find her still in her recumbent position on the porch glider, oblivious to any earth movement. I find it a little odd that a dog who goes on alert at the sound of people talking a block away, has no apparent reaction to the rumbling of the earth. Oh well, she IS an enigma.

Since we wanted confirmation of what we assumed to be an earthquake, I went immediately to the Internet. Doesn't everyone? Sure enough, at http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/recenteqsus/ I was able to get the scoop and was amazed that it was felt as far north as New England.

All in all, the day must have taken a lot out of me, because at 7:15, I headed to off bed. Did that earthquake sap anyone else's energy? Maybe it was just a coincidence, although I don't believe in coincidences.

Thankful

2011 May 17
THANKFUL

Yesterday I had one of the every 3 month checks for my bladder cancer. The result of yesterdays cystoscopy is that there are no new tumors present. YEA!!!  The next appointment will be in August. If at that visit there are still no new tumors, I will be able to go to an every 6 month schedule for cystoscopies. Another YEA!!!  I am grateful for the prayers of friends and for the peace of God.

After my appointment yesterday, I stopped and visited with my Daddy  one of my brothers. On my way home afterward, I reflected on the start of this journey, back in February 2008.

Raymond, our dogs, Katie & Greyla, along with my two of my brothers, Vinny & Dave and I had just spent a week in the Northern Outer Banks.  We had been vacationing in a rental home on the 4WD beaches.  I love going to the beach in the winter. There is something very peaceful and invigorating about the winter beach for me.  This particular time, I felt a great sense of peace and commented that for me, this particular vacation felt like the best we had ever experienced.

The Monday after our return, I had an appointment scheduled for an ultrasound for some ongoing "female" issues. Part way through the ultrasound, the technician stopped and excused herself. Not usually a good sign.  When she returned, she told me I should get dressed and ushered me to a consultation room with the comment that the Dr. would be in to speak with me, shortly.  As a veteran of these types of ultrasound procedures, I was a little confused, because this is not how they go. 

The Dr. did indeed show up shortly.  She gave me a CD of what they had ultrasounded and told me that they saw something "unexpected" in my bladder.  Her instruction was that I should go home and wait for my PCP to call me to discuss the "unexpected finding".  No matter how I phrased my inquiry, she wasn't coming up with any more information. So, I went home to await a call from Dr. Ebbert, my PCP

The call came from my PCP, explaining that I needed to call Dr. Traub, a urologist, for an appointment, as the unexpected finding was some sort of growth in the area where my ureter connects to my bladder. The CD was to give to him, so he could see what they had found. I would need to have a cystoscopy to determine what the growth was. OK, so far, so good. This is not the first time my body has decided to grow some little peculiarity.  There was no mention yet of cancer.  I was still floating along in my post vacation bliss. 

The next day, while my little charge, Kate, was napping, I called Dr. Traub's office.  The receptionist was very nice and mentioned that they had a cancellation for the next day, Wednesday, if I could make it on such short notice. Great! the next day was one of my days off and I was thrilled to not have a three week wait.

The appointment went along very normally. Fill out the paperwork. Wait. Pee in a cup. Wait. Have the cystoscopy. Get dressed and wait in the Dr's consult room. All very routine.

Then the Doc sat down, looking very serious and began to explain. He explained that there was a tumor and that this type have an 80% probability of being cancer. That much I still remember. He explained that I would need to have surgery for removal and full identification of the tumor. He asked his nurse to bring the surgery schedule. She mentioned that there had been a surgical cancellation for Friday. He asked if that was too soon. I said no, the sooner the better. Less time to think.

I would need to have a chest xray and blood work. Off to the hospital for those.

By the time I was on my way home, I was starting to worry a little, as the word "cancer" began to sink in.  I wanted to talk to someone. Raymond wasn't at home.  I thought of stopping to talk to my Daddy, but it didn't seem fair to dump my probably irrational fear on a man who had lost his wife to cancer.  I decided to stop at my brother's place of work. He was at the counter when I walked in and I asked if we could talk in private for a minute.  I explained about all that had happened since we returned from our lovely vacation, and ended up crying, " What if I have cancer?" 

My level headed brother asked me to tell him exactly what the Dr had said. When I reported the statistic "80% of the time these tumors are cancer", Vinny said, "That means that 20% of the time they're NOT". He continued with the best advice he could offer, "Don't get ahead of things. Wait and see."  And he hugged me, which is not something that comes naturally or easily for the men in my family. By the time I got home, I had adopted the "20% of the time they're NOT" attitude.

At home, my PCP called to say I would need to have a stress test prior to the surgery. Great! It was Wednesday afternoon and the surgery was scheduled for Friday. Talk about crunch time!  But the hospital stress lab was very cooperative and managed to get me in on Thursday.

Raymond's sister-in-law, Barb, who is also a kind and wonderful friend, as well as a cancer survivor, offered to drive me & Raymond to the hospital on Friday. 

I called upon my friends and acquaintances via email and asked for prayer.

I remember thinking before the surgery that God had been so gracious to allow us that peaceful, restful time at the beach since He knew what was awaiting upon our arrival home. 

The tumor did indeed turn out to be cancer.  But, as I have said many times, if you have to have cancer, bladder isn't the worst one!  Since February of 2008, my body has managed to grow two new tumors, both of which were small enough to be "cooked" off in the doctor's office.  The last one was in August of 2009. So I am on the threshold of a new level in my recovery. If there are no new growths at my August cystoscopy, I will be able to have six months between appointments. 

Cancer is not as scary as it once was.  Having lost many relatives and friends to the disease, simply hearing the word applied to me, was once very frightening.  

Through this period, I have had many relatives, friends and acquaintances who have prayed for and loved on me. I have found and continue to try to nurture a more positive attitude in myself, thinking of the 20% that is NOT cancer, instead of the 80% that may be cancer.  And I have learned that God does indeed have all things under His control, even when it may look like chaos to us.  I am thankful.  Thankful that I am able to see the good, even in a bout with cancer. I am grateful for prayer, both mine & other people's. I am appreciative of my family and friends and the support they provided. 

The whole experience, seemed to have grace and mercy embedded from beginning to now. From the time of rest and relaxation, to the double cancellations in a busy urology practice, to the flexibility of my employer, you never know who God will use to provide your needs. I am simply grateful that He does.