Cry Baby......

     I never cried in church before but I did last week. Part of the reason was because we had a moment to remember the victims of the awful school shooting in Connecticut. News like that hits real close to home. That's my greatest fear as a principal and always has been. Just knowing that innocent little children were taken from this life due to evil hands really makes me sick and angry. I cried through the whole service. Pastor Steve was talking about how fearful tragedies like this makes us and he is right, at least he made me realize this. I kept whispering to Angie that I had no clue why I was crying, I never cry, but the tears just kept coming and the more I tried to hide them and wipe them the more they fell. I felt a little out of control once again, but this time it seemed like a more peaceful out of control. Pastor Steve struck me, he opened my eyes, he made me see that I am weak and afraid. So...what exactly am I afraid of? I answered that very question throughout the next week as I reflected on his lesson. Turns out, I am afraid of a lot and it's mostly things I can't control.
     First, I am afraid of the evil in this world. Second, I am afraid of my family being hurt in any way. Third, I am afraid that my life will end when I am not ready. I had plenty of other revelations through this week, but I will focus on these three for now. It seems like everyday there is some form of evil happening in this world and I wonder if it's only a matter of time before I witness it first hand. I know this may sound ridiculous, but I think I have experienced first hand with this cancer crap. However, a good friend of mine (who shares my name..Steph) taught me that the Satan loves the fact that I am afraid of the evil. Satan wants to know this and wants to see and hear my fear. The only way to NOT satisfy him is to keep the negative and frightful thoughts to myself, not say them out loud because it's the only way he can know. See us Steph's are incredibly smart and I am not as knowledgeable or religious as she, but she was right. I started keeping those thoughts and fears to myself and saying out loud "I hate you Satan" instead. It makes me feel better because in a way, I get off my chest how angry his actions make me. So, that's how I am dealing with number one.
     As for my second fear, I have so much love for my family and they have been through enough. I can't imagine how my parents feel knowing that one of their daughters is sick, how heartbreaking and I despise that. I always want to be the one to protect my family, try to protect them from sadness, take care of them,  and help them. In reality, they are doing that for me. I just can't express how much I love my family. I almost wish I could buy a hotel or a big warehouse so all my family could live under one roof. I never want them to be sad, hurt, or scared. This is something I can't control.
     My third fear is also something I can't control. Again, I am not overly religious, but this experience has without a doubt made me grow in my faith. I have always had a relationship with God, but it's been between me and Him and now it's so much more. I have decided that I need to appreciate everyday that comes my way and truly live. When it's my time, it's my time and there's nothing I can do about it. I give my life to Him and I can't spend any more precious time worrying about everything. So in the words of Tim McGraw....I'm going to live like I was dying. What do I live for? My family and my improved faith. 
     Tomorrow is treatment number 8, I will have more behind me than ahead of me. I wish I could say I was excited, but I am not quite there yet. It's hard to look past how awful I feel after these treatments, but the one thing I am grateful for is that I got to enjoy Christmas with my family and felt wonderful doing it. I may not feel so well over New Year's but I do know that this New Year will bring many blessings to us. Until next time........

1st Round, 2nd Round, 3rd....

1st round of treatment was a TKO (Total knockout for the non-boxing enthusiast), 2nd round was a KO (just a knockout). So that means the side effects in round two were slightly better than the first, I just regurgitated more. Today, actually last Thursday at this point (and now it's Tuesday of my off week). I had my 3rd round and it is yet to be determined. I feel like I am in a better mental state for now, I hope that continues.3rd Round could be the best one yet. I had very little nausea, but I also was on a pretty rigours routine with medications waking up all hours of the night, so I wouldn't miss one. I also had to get fluids, Friday, Saturday, and Monday and they gave me a shot of steroids somewhere along the lines. I will definitely take this round over being sick so many days. I did sleep most all weekend long. Sometimes this worries me because than I wonder if I am eating and drinking enough, but at this time, the more I can sleep these days away, maybe the faster they will go away. This brings me to how I feel right now, the day before a short treatment. Yikes....
I am back to that restless feeling. I would like to try to take a nap, a few days ago I couldn't stay awake. Now, I lay down for 5 minutes and I am wondering what to do. I have tried puzzles, coloring, playing video games, cleaning the house, the list goes on. Those activities seem to work for another 5 minutes, but than it's like I have to do something else. So, I will try and lay down again...nope. Siting and watching the time pass on the clock does me no good. Pacing back in forth from the kitchen to the living room just wares the floor out. It's hard being home by yourself when you are in this state. But, even when someone is with me, we don't talk much. Talking takes energy and because I can't lay and rest you would think I would have plenty of energy, but I really don't. The other thing that is getting to me this round it the more light headedness and blackout feelings I have been getting. I have made calls to the docs and nurses, because I go into tomorrow no one is too concerned about it. It's just part of the medicine. After tomorrow's treatment, I will be half way done. Some people say that's just right around the corner, I beg to differ. I am trying to keep that positive light lit, but this treatment stuff.....can kiss my a$$!
Turns out the lightheadness was me being dehydrated. My one hour treatment turned into a 3 hour treatment because I got even more fluids pumped in me, this made me sick. I got the lecture on how important it is to drink especially after treatments. This is something I know. I am not a big drinker on average. It is incredibly hard to drink anything when you aren't thirsty, you feel crappy, and you don't want to think about putting anything else in your body. Some people seem to think it's so easy, if it were, I would do it.
I am now trying to enjoy my off week and so far it's been somewhat difficult. I am now struggling with bottom issues which I will spare all details, but I will say one word....OUCH. This is going to be something I will have to deal with until the end of treatment and than will probably have to have it surgically repaired.
I feel like the last few posts have been somewhat negative and I apologize for that. I really try hard to stay positive,  but again, it's not easy. I still get scared sometimes. .....

Happy Thanksgiving!

I am thankful that my off week lands during Thanksgiving. Let me take this opportunity to share what I am most thankful for. First, I am thankful that this life challenge of mine is strengthening my faith, even though at times I feel like it's pulling me to question certain things. God always wins that battle because no matter what thoughts flow through my head I always circle back to, HE is in control. Second, I am extremely thankful for my family. There are no words to express how deeply I love all of them.  Third, I also love all of my friends old and new. The ones that have always been there and the ones who are here now, supporting me and loving me through this. This would include my medical friends, my doctor and nurses. I could go on and on about what I am most thankful for, but for now, last but not least, I am thankful for Angie. This whole ride has been hard on her and she has taken such great care of me and that's not any easy thing to do.
I have completed my second round of treatment and have decided that for at least 10 days after, I am a completely different person. I am physically sick for most of those days, some of them being way worse than others. I also become mentally ill as well. The only thing I want to do during this time is curl up under a blanket and just lay there until it all passes. I slip into this funk and it really bothers me. I hate being sick and when the physical stuff passes, the mental stuff remains and I hate that too. Everyone tells me to think positive thoughts and to be grateful I have an end to my treatment. Indeed they are right, but it's really hard to think positive when you feel so crappy. I am grateful that I have an end because some people don't. However, that doesn't really make it any easier at the time. During my off week when I feel "normal" I can think positive and remember those that have to do treatment for the rest of their lives or those that treatment is just prolonging their precious life. During treatment weeks, it takes all I have to convince myself that this is worth it. Crazy, but true. So....how do I fight those evil thoughts and feelings when these drugs are attacking my good and bad cells and making me feel like the treatment itself is going to kill me? I dedicate my treatment weeks.
One of my co-workers, Val, suggested that I dedicate my treatment to a loved one. The second treatment was for my grandparents, who were actually sitting in my room with me during my 5 hour. At one point it was just me and my grandma. Gram looks at me and says, "I'm really sorry you have to go through this dolly. It hurts me really bad. It just really hurts" I look at her and tell her that I am sorry it's hurting her, but that everything is ok and I am going to be just fine! I try to convince her and myself that it's not so bad and it's a piece of cake for me. As long as she believed me. Sometimes Gram doesn't remember many things, but one thing she never forgets is that I am sick.
The hardest thing for me to fight against is my mental state. When I played softball and football, I thought I was one of the most mentally tough. Playing football, I taught myself to believe that I was better than the person in front of me. During the game, if an opponent knocked me down, I went on a mission to pay that back. I wouldn't let anyone beat me and if they did, I played twice as hard, hit twice as hard, and would be damned if I dropped the ball. Same thing in softball, that pitcher wasn't going to strike me out, catcher wasn't going to throw me out, and damn sure no one would score with me behind the plate. If at anytime I screwed up, I would make up for it. So, where did that mental toughness go when I need it the most?

1st Round Complete...only 11 more

It's 4:30 AM on Friday. Last week at this time, I was feeling pretty out of control. I had my first round of the rough stuff and that's exactly what it was. I dripped for 5 hours. The first hour was fluids, the 2nd was anti-nausea medicine, than came my first drug, than the 2nd, than another hour of fluids. These hours surprisingly weren't so bad, it was when I got home. My mom and Angie dropped me off so I could get some rest. I bet it wasn't a half hour before I was calling Angie bawling like a little child. It wasn't because I didn't feel good, it was because I felt out of control.
Foreign things had just happened to my body and there was nothing I could do about. When I have a headache, I control if I take 2 IB or  4. I can't control this. Thankfully, my sister had called and I couldn't cry with her on the phone. She of course talked me through my spell and magically stopped crying before mom and Angie could get back to me.
(FYI....it is now Oct. 31 and I am finishing this post)
The night of my first treatment, I honestly can't remember how the rest of it went. But, I do remember the next day. I went to school that Friday thinking that even if I didn't feel well I should get up and do something instead of lay around and think about it. So, off I went. I made it for a little while and than I couldn't stay. My head was somewhere, physically on my body, but mentally God only knows where. The best way I can explain how it feels is when you have encountered some alcoholic beverages beyond the point of feeling good. To the point where you really have no clue where you are, that at any moment you could lose your lunch, and when you try to think straight or focus on just one thing, everything goes blurry. I couldn't sit still, but I didn't want to go anywhere. It was like restless leg syndrome, but my legs were so tired, they were just impulsive. I went back home where I went even more crazy.
I couldn't be alone, I couldn't sit on the couch, in the recliners, lay in bed. I had to constantly move. I followed Angie around like a lost puppy, up the stairs down the stairs. I even went to her hair salon and folded towels. I would wait for her to finish up clients and even than I found myself fighting the urge to make laps around the shop. I was literally attached to Angie's hip. Friday, I didn't feel too well.
Saturday came and I think I slept all but one hour of that day, must have been the constant moving that exhausted me. Or could have been the Chemo. Sunday was the worst day. Angie had to go to the boys' soccer game so my mom came and sat with me, still couldn't be alone and I felt like complete dog crap. We took a nap on the couch. This was the day I should have been eating and more importantly drinking. I tried, but it was very hard and eventually this day I got sick. Thinking that I would feel better in the morning, somehow we made it through Sunday. I again thought that I may as well try to go to work. This turned out to be a really dumb idea. I shouldn't have drove first of all, that too was like a long, hard night partaking in adult beverages. I was in a daze the whole way and feeling worse than the day before. I had those same anxious, restless leg symptoms and felt like a zombie. Two of my teachers ended up driving me back home and when I got there, I again got sick. Something wasn't right, so between my mom and Angie and my nurse, we decided I needed to get some fluids. Angie took me up to Des Moines and for about an hour and a half, I was getting more fluids pumped into my body. Eventually, I could actually drink a class of water and eat ice chips. I felt much better after that physically, mentally was a different story.
I knew somehow I needed to get my act together because I had my short treatment in a couple of days. I found myself in this deep depressive state and even told Angie that I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to sit through treatments and I didn't want to feel like I did. She pretty much told me I didn't have a choice :) this will save my life. Bed time couldn't come fast enough because with the help of Ambian, I drift off and for a few hours I have no clue, I just eventually drift off. It was this way until my next treatment. This treatment was about an hour and a half. My nurses came to visit and were concerned with my state of mind. They both gave me a pep talk and I did feel better. They promised me they would fix some things for the next round so that hopefully I won't feel as awful. I trust them.
That short treatment, piece of cake. I have been at work this entire week and I actually feel normal. It has been AWESOME. I love being back at work! O and I finally shaved my head. My next long treatment is in one week, so here's to 7 more days of normalcy and than I start all over........

A baby?

I have always wanted to have a baby, just maybe never wanted to actually carry it. I mean, imagine me being pregnant. Little people everywhere will wonder why Justin Bieber is pregnant? (For those who don't know me well, refrain from putting much thought into that last line.) It's always been a dream of mine to be able to take care of the prego one, put my head on the belly, and sing or talk to my baby. But, as time moves and I get older, the thought of carrying my own has been considered. Angie and I were planning on working on getting the job done this fall. Instead of searching for the right baby daddy, we are searching for the right plan of action to preserve my fertility. Chemo will put my system to sleep and there's a possibility it may not wake up. Now, if I had my own baby already, I might be in hog heaven thinking I may never have a period again! Anyway, Angie and I decided to see a fertility specialist. I was probably more nervous for this appointment than my others simply because I didn't know what they would do or stick me with if you know what I mean. Turns out, it was a very easy appointment. The doctor spoke very honestly with us and I must say he was amazing. He gave me 4 options....1) Do nothing 2) Something I didn't understand 3) Grab some eggs and freeze them 4) get a shot every month to preserve or protect my stuff. Option 1 is not an option nor is option 2. Option 3 is an option but I would have to wait for 3-4 weeks and I don't know if I have that long before I start Chemo. Option 4 is the other option. Sitting in this office I had an overwhelming urge. Having a baby has been a dream yes, did I really think it would ever happen? Maybe. But now, knowing that my chances of having one could be slim makes me really want one. I guess I took for granted my health and ability to reproduce. Not only do I have to fight to beat cancer, I have to fight to hopefully have a little nugget of my own. So the option winner is....Number 4. My oncologist told me today that he is not comfortable waiting for a few weeks before I start treatment, so tomorrow is the day!
The day I start chemo was lost in the calendar somewhere, it always seemed to be a day away and now it literally is. I am not even sure how to prepare for the final stage of this battle. I realize that so many people, too many experience the emotion of cancer. Too many sit in a chair while their loved ones wait for the chemo to run it's course. I wish I could share my feelings at this point, but I don't exactly know what my feelings are. I am sure as I sit tomorrow waiting for my first dose, I will have my computer and share. Until than, as unsure as I am right at this moment......As I always say, but sometimes may not always feel.....I got this!

Free To Breath

Saturday was the 2nd Annual Free to Breath 5K walk/run. I had a lovely group sign up for Team Steph. My friend Ace (Angie Avery) made some really cool shirts for our team and I have to say, we were looking good! With this being the 2nd year for this walk, there again where many different emotions running through my body.
First, I was and still am sore from my port placement. I don't know if it's the two incisions or the fact that I have this quarter sized contraption above my boob with a hose attached to it. That hose is somewhere connected into a main vein through my neck. Every time I cough, yowzers! I suppose I should have done some research on this whole port deal, but it's in now and things will settle in a few days for sure. This goes really without saying, I am sick and tired of hurting in places that don't normally hurt, I am tired of coughing non-stop, taking pills/drugs... It had been one of THOSE days for me. The sad, out of your mind type of day. I refuse to ramble on about my negatives, so I am done ranting and raving about how I feel. Well sort of...
Back to the event: It rained all morning, storm like, so I woke up really upset. I was so incredibly excited for this event. Lung Cancer patients would be there with their friends and families and supporters of all kinds would show up. Boy, was I somewhat surprised. I don't mean disrespect towards anyone at all, but I was a tad saddened by the numbers that showed. I am keeping in mind the fact the weather was not pleasant, it's only the 2nd year, and maybe the event wasn't as advertised big enough.My goal for next year.....spread the word and get people out. There were a total of 9 survivors there, I was included in that group. It was incredibly strange that I was a part of that group who was introduced to the crowd, but I didn't feel alone.I had a colleague show up to run, which was completely sweet of him. I also had a student, his little sister, and his parents show up. That was very cool! I met many new friends and the walk was beautiful. The rain stopped just in time and so did my head, from spinning of all the emotions I felt. Events like these are supposed to be inspiring, but the stories that were shared were a grim reminder of possible outcomes of lung cancer. This cancer is a mean, deadly, and extremely hard to detect, those were just a few of the reminders. None the less, this day turned out to be incredible! To all of my readers who joined us on this day, I thank you so very much for your support. Our jobs now, to remember the date and spread the word. Lung Cancer claims the most lives of any cancer and it's time to bring some awareness to this.

The last thing I will end this post with is that Lung Cancer does not always have to be caused by smoking. I find myself prefacing my diagnosis by saying, I am not a smoker and never have. EXCEPT..that one time in college where I had some hanging out of my mouth because I thought it looked cool, but I probably didn't completely inhale. Docs say you need to legitimately smoke at least 100 cigarettes before that would even be considered. Why do I have to say, I have lung cancer, Oh but I am not a smoker? Ugh.....Awareness. Enjoys some pics and than get ready for baby talk!

Port Day..........

My buddy Jody didn't tell me that it hurts to have a port in. I was thinking this would be a piece of cake and compared to my lung surgery, it is. But dang.
I woke up early this morning knowing that my dad would show up at 7:00 when I told him to be at my house around 7:30. That's what I love about him, he's always on time and early to boot. Off we went to Des Moines, I was a little envious of him because he had a mug of coffee and of course I couldn't have mine until after my procedure. We arrive at the parking garage, drive up a level and we see "Parking for Cancer Patients" signs and we kept driving. On the next level, there those signs are again. Dad turns and says, "well I guess that is you" and he pulls in. Dad had a saddened look in his eye and sound in his voice. So, being the mood lightener I am, I replied "yeah, that's me." Than I said, "Dad, wonder how many times I'll get poked today?" Have I told you all how sick and tired I am of getting poked, even if it's by a pretty nurse, I suddenly don't care or want any more pokes!!!! Hence the port. All the nurses will have to do is give me a tiny poke into that port and that I can handle as long as they don't have to dig around for a vein.
Dad and I didn't have to wait too long to get called back. I had to get an IV and my blood drawn, that equalled THREE pokes. I felt bad for the nurse, her name was Steph too, but that's not why I felt bad for her. I felt bad because I gave her a hard time, if you can imagine. She got my IV in ok, but she couldn't draw any blood. I told her I was all dried up, so bless her heart, she gave up on me and had the other nurse try. Eventually they got what they needed. Those nurses deserve a Gold Medal, Purple Heart, or something. I can't imagine doing their job and they are so sweet too. My dad and I joked around with them about getting poked and how I was going to get a tattoo above my port that says "Insert Here!." Seriously, I don't want any more needles in my arm.

Hmmm, as I look at that picture, my port seems to be extremely low. Guess I will have to flash some people when they plug me in for Chemo, that will be interesting. While they were preparing for the procedure, I had a flashback from my lung surgery. The room was the same cold temp, there were a lot of nurses clanging instruments, one trying to put oxygen on me, and the other putting the sleepy meds in my IV. One nurse was commenting on my bright shoes. He wouldn't even cover up my feet because he wanted to see them glow in the dark. I started wondering where in the World was I and what is this crazy guy going to do to me today. My feet are cold dude, cover them up. That's when the sleepy feeling hit. I could barely feel the needle digging in me to numb my neck and chest and than I was out. Before too long, I was in a wheelchair and the lovely nurse wheeled me to Starbucks. She than wheeled us to the parking garage where my dad took over. It was the sweetest thing. My dad escorted me to the car, opened the door and made sure I could get in ok. He did the same when we got back to my house. He and I are a lot alike.
The crazy thing about this port experience, is that you can feel the catheter tube in my neck. It's actually kind of cool, but a very odd placement for that sucker. They tell me that I will be sore for a couple of days or at least until my little incision heals, but that I will always feel it. I can no longer count on one hand the number of scars/incisions I have from my shoulders to my belly button. Wonder what a tattoo would look like if I connected all the dots and lines??? Just kidding mom, I would never.
Well anyway, just thought I would share today's experience with you in case there is anyone out there who will have a need for a port.
I also need to clarify my Staging because I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea or information. I am a Stage 3A. There is not a whole lot of difference between Stage 2b and 3A. We did not really go backwards, just got clarification on where I actually stand after my surgery pathology report. Absolutely nothing changes, not with me and most certainly not with my will to fully kick this crap and never see it again! I need you all to pray that it rains tonight and holds off tomorrow morning. My wonderful Team Steph will be walking in the 2nd annual Free to Breath Walk, which raises awareness for lung cancer. This is something I have been extremely excited about! Come on Mother Nature....don't you of all people know that I am a pretty big deal?

Yesterday...all my troubles seemed so far away

The day has finally come to find out about my treatment plan. Something I have strangely been anxious about. But, before we made our way to Des Moines, I decided to take another walk. On this walk I noticed a few more things I never noticed before. Newton has a LOT of squirrels and they are so delicate with their nuts. (hahahaha, I may be going a little a crazy). Watching them bury or unbury the nuts, they dig and dig and replace their divots. No one can tell where those nuts are hidden. It's like their little secret. I love squirrels. I keep walking and see this half open garage with an older gentleman standing in there. I saw a can in his hand and he set it down on his riding lawn mower, it was a 16 oz can of beer and it was almost noon. The first thought that came to my mind is...I wonder if he's hiding from his wife? Maybe that beer drinking time is his little secret. As they say, it's 5 o'clock somewhere. This made me think of how many people have secrets in their lives and do I have any? I used to, a big one, but so obvious to others. Maybe my cancer is a secret to anyone who doesn't know me. To the people passing me on the street I look normal, gay, but normal. :) They have no clue and neither do so many I pass everyday, but soon enough, it will no longer be a secret. Let me explain....
Late yesterday afternoon we talk to Dr. Freeman, my oncologist in Des Moines. Assuming he has touched base with my oncologist from MAYO he will have the best treatment plan for me. He walks into the room, shakes my hand and I can see in his eyes that he cares very much. I hadn't seen him since July 20, so being in that office brought back some nasty feelings. Matter of fact, see these chairs

These are the chairs we sat in that awful day. Here these chairs are empty, a good symbol of how I felt that day and largely how I felt after this appointment today. Turns out he never consulted with my doctor at MAYO and the only information he had from my procedures from there, were what I had faxed him. A little unsettling from both places. However, for some strange reason, I have great trust in Dr. Freeman. The problem is...we had our hearts set that I went from Stage 4 the worst, to Stage 2b. Stage 2b made me very happy because that means my tumor was slightly large, between 5-7 cm and had spread to some lymph nodes (2 in my case) on the same side of the chest and the tumor can be surgically removed (which mine had been). It doesn't sound positive, but compared to Stage 4 it is.
Dr. Freeman staged me a 3b. Stage 3b means that typically tumors spread to the lymph nodes (which again mine did) but on the opposite side of the tumor (which mine was on the same side??) and the tumor starts to invade other structures such as the heart or arteries. How in the hell can I be Stage 3b, I met none of those criteria other than my lymph nodes were involved. Also, the higher the stage, typically the shorter life span or there's more of a chance of recurrence. I don't want to be Stage 3b, I don't want to be on any Stage, except Ellen DeGeneres's, is that so hard to accomplish? It was that moment I felt that same feeling, the one I had the moment I was told I had cancer. The inside of my body became increasingly warm, shocks were going all through me, and my leg began to shake uncontrollably. EVERY time we step foot into a Des Moines doctor's office it seems like we walk out with a kick in the gut. I understand that doctors have to tell you the worst to cover their ass, but seriously. MAYO was never like that. They gave me a sense of peace and hope each and every time. I do believe that we were spoiled there and being dismissed from MAYO is not a good feeling. Although, I don't think Des Moines is my problem. My problem is cancer. Today's appointment brought back the reality, before it was just a date on the calendar. The reality is, I have lung cancer and no matter what stage I am in, it's still cancer. All of the questions came back, why me? What does my future look like, will I even have one? And so on.....just when I was starting to forget.
Anyway, after the staging talk he explained how I would have a port placed in my chest. This will be very helpful when I come in for treatment because it takes the place of an IV. Thankfully, I won't have to get poked in my veins each time, just a tiny poke to my port. This is a good thing because I have to do this for 18 weeks, a total of 12 treatments and I am tired of getting poked. They will use 2 drugs, Cistplatin and Gemzar. Cistplatin is one of the oldest chemo drugs, it's been around a long time because it works, but it's also comes with a lot of unpleasant side effects. The other drug is pretty mild. I won't be finished until the end of February. I called up to MAYO to talk to my oncologist, he agreed that he would treat me the same way. So, if I want a real chance at a "cure" I get the hard stuff. I will probably lose my hair and a few pounds, I will no longer be able to hide this secret to the people driving by, but I'll keep on walking.
I go in at 8:30 tomorrow morning to receive my port....let's see how this goes

Night Berfore Chemo Talk

So, what does one think about the night before the appointment that will decide my treatment schedule? Hmmmmm, where do I begin? There are a million things running through my mind it seems. So far at 8:21 PM, I have thought about July 20 and how I felt that day. I thought about being told I will have a much shorter life, the look on mom's face that day, and the sound of Angie's voice. I have thought about all of the doctor's I've seen and that 6 weeks ago I had surgery. I have also thought about how far I have come in those few weeks and how I've been told that the spot on my liver is not cancer. I think about how different I am than I was just 2 months ago.
I don't know why it bothers me to know that I have a missing piece to a vital organ. A lung is an organ right? I am only the principal, not the Science teacher! Than I think that's kind of stupid to think about because I am alive and have a shot at living a long time, which is way better than it was  2 months ago. I have it A LOT better than a lot of other people. I think about how annoying it is to wheeze after I climb the stairs to my bedroom and the coughing....well, that just gets exhausting. I have also thought about how frustrated returning back to work has been. (Hoping I don't get fired!) My entire staff plus some from other buildings have done such a wonderful job running the building. I feel so lost there. I even walked by some students who were messing around during lunch and normally I would get after them, but I let the janitor handle it! That's not me, that moment made me wonder what in the heck is going on with me? On the positive side, I am more aware of certain things and have a totally different perspective on life. When I am out for a walk, I notice the smells of supper wafting from the houses and how wonderful it smells. I wonder if the whole family gathers at the table, does anyone do that anymore? We do, Angie, the boys and I. I also notice the smell of laundry passing by some houses and I wonder what kind of detergent they use. Angie makes our laundry smell really good. I notice colors, the trees are way more vivid than what they used to be, like I am looking at everything in 3D. I feel things...the cold, wind, hugs. The words "I love you" are much more powerful. Also on my walks, I wonder what God has planned for me and why he picks the people he does to go through some of the roughest things? I quickly realize that it's not for me to question and than I realize how much stronger my faith has grown.
And than....I think about what tomorrow brings. What will my oncologist in Des Moines tell me? Are he and my oncologist from MAYO on the same page? How long will I have to do chemo and what kind will I have? In a way, it will be a relief to finally know what my routine will be. Until next time.......

Up to Date!

Other than the day after I found out, I never really had a chance to be sad. Everyone around me was always so positive and they told me that’s how I needed to be too. But, 2 ½ weeks out of surgery, I WAS sad and I DID feel lonely even though I had Angie, my mom, my dad, my sister, my boss and the whole gang. Looking back now I am pretty sure it was the withdrawal from meds that made me feel this way. I felt like I was losing control of myself. For those who don’t know me well, I have always been the strong emotional one, the optimistic, the one that says “everything will be fine.” At this time, I was none of the above.  This flood of emotion took over me and I felt like I was drowning. Time was starting to weigh on me as I had nothing but time to think about everything that has happened.

I would go back in time and remember when I think about dying. Yes, I honestly think about that at times, because I have always feared dying. I have always thought that nothing bad could happen to me and that the Lord wouldn’t allow anything else bad to happen to my mom. I have always thought that I am going to live to be 90. But, this time when I would think about dying I saw myself maybe making it to age 50 and that was being generous. There are times when I come to grips with that thought because I know where I am going and I know it’s a far more peaceful place, but I am just not ready. First of all, I’ve always wanted to grow old with someone who really likes me, I have that now. Second, I don’t want my family to hurt. My mom and dad would both be crushed if I were to lose this battle. I would miss my sister and her kids something awful and I always want to be here for them. I can’t imagine not being here for any of my family and friends. Thirdly, I am just not ready!  

Among dealing with this depressive state, I had yet another procedure to go. I was not mentally or physically ready for this procedure. I dreaded it badly, but knew it had to be done. So 2 ½ weeks after my lung surgery Angie, mom, dad and I went back up to MAYO. My liver ablation was scheduled for September 13, a Thursday. We had to be there on the 12^th for pre-op. The pre-op this time consisted of another ultra sound. Again, after 30-45 minutes of searching my liver, the gal went to go get the radiologist to try and find the spot they were looking for. He had no such luck. Of course, this ultra sound was uncomfortable because they had to push the thing on the same side that’s been jacked with. They had to work around my incisions. The good thing about the girl is that she was a little more gentle. The radiologist came in and slapped that little tool on me and went to town. I just gritted my teeth. Since he couldn’t  find what he was looking for he wanted me to get ANOTHER MRI! However, he gave me a pretty good feeling about the liver for once. He told me that there is a good possibility that the spot is NOT cancer. I never looked so forward to an MRI. Again, I got poked with an IV, this time the nurse had a hard time finding the vein. Ouch! I went back to get strapped up and in the tube I went. I’ve never been so cold in my life. I recall falling asleep throughout the procedure and hearing the tech asking me to try to stay awake. She was very sweet and knew that the breaths in and out were really hard for me. I came out about 45 minutes later and was shaking harder than the first day I was told I had cancer. The nurse got me a few warm blankets and I sat and waited for the radiologist to review my images. I’ll paint the scene:

I am sitting in a roller chair with like 5 blankets on, the tech was standing next to me, the radiologist was concentrating on the computer. My family is out in the waiting room. My thoughts? What does he see and what is he going to tell me? Why am I so cold and why am I shaking so bad? He turns to me and says…."I don’t see that this is cancer in your liver." I looked at him stone faced and asked him to repeat himself. Again, he said it’s not cancer. I immediately broke down, shaking harder and tears started to flow. How can it be? I have been told for 2 months that the spot on the liver is cancer and now it’s not??? Is he sure, he’s only human, what if he is wrong? But, it’s not just him. There was a whole team of doctors looking at my images and biopsy results. So I have no choice but to have faith and trust in my doctors. So, he shook my hand and I thanked him through my tears. The tech walked me out to my family and stayed with us to make sure we were all ok. We were all so relieved and in shock. Angie helped me get dressed because I was a wreck and uncontrollably shaky.

As soon as we got ourselves composed, we walked out and went to celebrate with Kerry. Remember her, she is one of the gals who works at MAYO. She has quickly become on of the “not it, it” gang.

I didn’t have to have that liver ablation procedure. The radiologist didn’t think it was necessary. Holy  cow was I on cloud nine. Who would be excited to have STAGE 2B LUNG CANCER??? I would! That means a possible cure instead of a prolonging disease. We ended up staying the night in Minnesota, after all, I was to spend another night in the hospital if I had the procedure. I was just too exhausted to think about driving 3 ½ hours. As drained as I was, I didn't sleep to well that night. Some of it was because of the bed, but most of it was because all of these doubts were creeping in. I hear horror stories about people being told it's a benign tumor and than a few years down the road, it's spread all over and there's nothing they can do about it. Will that happen to me? Suddenly, a send a prayer up and remember to have faith and I finally drifted away.
 We got up the next morning and made our way towards home. This time, we decided to stop at Diamond Jo’s Casino. We thought luck was going our way, so why not? We all decided to put in only 5 dollars (turned into 20) and low and behold, we didn’t win anything. So, off to home with 20 less dollars and on to continued recovery.

Every week got easier for me. I eventually could walk a little farther, breath a little easier, and slowly get back to feeling “normal.” We had one more trip up to MAYO to wait for, but before we headed up for my check up, I was going to work on wowing my doctors. Three weeks after surgery, I decided that I was going to go on a walk and nothing was going to stop me. I walked 2 miles and decided I may have over committed, but I made it. The only thing that really bothered me was/is my coughing. Apparently, that is to be expected when your lung is trying to heal itself.  A day after that walk, I talked to Rose. Remember Rose, the nurse from Des Moines. She called to check on me. I shared my walking excursion and she was a little shocked. She asked me if I understood what I endured a few weeks ago. Honestly, I don’t think I do understand. I don’t think I fully understand what happened in that operating room, none the less, I am going to continue to walk farther and farther. I still have some very uncomfortable moments. I had trouble with an acid reflux feeling after I would eat, but that eventually went away. The pain eventually became hardly noticeable on most days. Sometimes I get subtle reminders that things are still really sensitive.

On October 2nd, we went back up for my 1st checkup since surgery. As soon as I walked in to the hospital, I got this sick feeling. It reminded me of having that surgery and my hospital stay. Again, I was overwhelmed with these emotions. My first appointment was for a chest x-ray. I was rather scared to get that x-ray. I could see my images as I stood there. I saw a spot, it was cloudy, but it made me wonder. While we were waiting to get the results, I sat there with my stomach in knots and my name is called out to meet my surgeon's PA. He had my x-ray up on the computer and it was the oddest looking picture. That chest x-ray, it came back normal. Well, I had a missing lobe, but that will be the new normal for me. The left part of me was normal, but on the right side my diaphragm had shifted up to fill in the empty spot of my lung. There was no sign of recurrence of my cancer. The PA was the one to tell us that everything looks great. We asked to see the lung surgeon, so he called him up to come see us. He remembered me and took time out of his operating day to come and see me. He walked in and I hoped up to shake his hand and he hugged me. He agreed to a procedure that potentially saved my life and cured me. He told me how different I look compared to the last time he saw me. I felt like a million bucks compared to the last time he saw me.  I didn’t want to let go of him, but I decided to let go to spare him any weird thoughts. That was it for us. I wasn’t going to see him or anyone else at MAYO, I was done there. My exit at MAYO went like this: “Taxi, arriving for STEPH.” Yup, we had a taxi pick us up and drive us to our car because I am a pretty big deal. So long Minnesota, Go Packers! Next up, October 10....Chemo talk.

Surgery Recovery?

During the next few days after my surgery things seemed to get a little easier.  Than again, I had my moments. After my chest tube was out and my oxygen was off, I think I freaked myself out or it could have been an anxiety attack. I felt that those two things were what was helping me breath and when they both came out I suddenly couldn’t breath. I could take short little breaths, but it was almost like I was suffocating. Mom got the nurse and that”s when I got a little snippy again. All I wanted to know is if it was normal to struggle breathing after a removal of a lobe and than after they took the tube and oxygen out? No one would answer that, all they could ask me was what my pain was on a scale of 1-10? That was another question that got super old. They rushed the x-ray tech up to my room and it came back ok. Eventually, I settled down. I also still had nausea every time I would get out of the bed in the morning. I had to take 4-6 walks daily up and down the hallway. I was the youngest one on the floor, I am sure all the older people there were looking at me and wondering what in the world I was doing up there. 

This was my very first hospital stay and I don’t care to do it again. The nurses would come in every two hours, give me my pain pills, which included 2 percocet and an oxycodone. Every morning I was there consisted of more pain pills, a shot in the belly, and a stool softener (sorry).  I finally could shower on the 3^rd day and let me tell you, my armpit hair was an unpleasant site. I made my mom go down and buy a razor. That first shower was a little challenging, but I wasn’t about to let anyone help me and it felt really good.

So my surgery was on Tuesday and I wasn’t released until Saturday. So much for me thinking I was going home on Thursday, but honestly I was glad, it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. My mom stayed with me the entire time and was at my beck and call. Angie went home to take care of the boys, but I know it was tearing her apart to not be with me. The boys needed her too and to me that was more important. She came back up to take my mom and I home on Saturday and it was really awesome to see her again. I was ready to go home. 

One of my best friends from New Mexico flew that Saturday and that helped me to not think of what just happened. As soon as we arrived home, we quickly found out that there was a list of people bringing us meals everyday for the next three weeks. Again, unbelievable! Our friend Missy set that up for us and the people who took the time to make us home made meals are incredible. It was a HUGE help as Angie is the cook of the house. It was tricky for her to take care of me, run the boys to school and their sports, and work full time. She’s done well. She started giving me a hard time because it was like she was nursing again. She woke up every two hours to make sure I took the right pills and every 4 she had to bring me something to eat. Through out the day she would leave work to come check on me. I took a lot of attention. My mom came over almost every day. She did our yard work and took care of me during the day. Our good friend Kristin comes and cleans our house for us for hardly anything. People are truly amazing.

The first week after surgery, I didn’t feel too terrible. I was still on the same dose of pain pills, so I didn’t feel a whole lot. I did some work from home and entertained my buddy from New Mexico.

The second week after was not so good. I could only lay in one position and that was on my back. So, I woke up on a Saturday before Angie went to work. I tried to stand up out of bed and I couldn’t take a breath in. It felt like someone was stabbing me and the only thing I could do to breath is lay back down on my back. Angie called my mom and she rushed over. We were thinking we would have to go to the ER. Angie called up the chiropractor and he said he would come in and take a look at me. Turns out, I had this huge (two tennis balls) ball of swelling in the middle of my back. At this time, I tried to back off from my pain pills because I was running out, but I changed my mind and popped some more. I ended up choosing the Chiro instead of the ER. He helped tremendously.

By the end of the 2^nd week I was bound to stop taking pain pills. For 2 ½ weeks I was on drugs and I found out the hard way that my body was starting to become addicted. I had saved a few pills back for “just in case.” I can easily see how people become addicts because after dealing with headaches and depression, I would take a look at the pill and tell myself that if I took it than I could deal with this 4 hours later. Thankfully, I talked myself out of taking it. While my body was in withdrawal, I would start thinking about what was taking place and what had happened since July.  I became a person I have never known…..Sad, lonely, confused, and mad. I didn’t want to have cancer, I didn’t want to be sore, I didn’t want to be sick, and I certainly didn’t want to think about chemo.  I was scared! I was scared of the unknown. How long will I live, is there really no cancer in my liver or what if it is and it spreads, how will I react to chemo, will it make me sick, will I lose my hair, my eyelashes, what will it be like to sit there knowing that poison is running through my body? These were just the few questions that plagued my mind, kept me awake, and made my head pound. I finally started to cry.

Surgery Eve

August 27 we all load up the vehicles and off we go back to MAYO. I agreed to allow the researchers up there to use me. So before I met with the doc for my pre-op appointment, I met with the researchers and they had me do a walking test and than an MRI. By this time, I am really tired of having MRIs. Every time they have to start an IV and inject some contrast in me, which, is not the best thing for you. I waited for that MRI forever and of course I was in a gown and it was freezing! So, what else did I have to do besides make friends with everyone else in the waiting room.
Finally, that was completed and we made our way to see the doc for my pre-op. That only took 10 min. He reviewed the procedure with me, answered any questions I had, and that was it. I did inform him that I was pretty sure I would be in surgery on Tuesday and on my way home on Thursday....(typical hospital stay for this surgery is 3-5 days), but for some reason I think I am a quick healer. He told me that he actually wouldn't be surprised knowing me.....yeah well???
We had to check in at 5:30 the next morning. I woke up went and kissed my sister, Jacque, and the kids and told them I'd see them later. We checked in and soon an escort came and called 5-6 different names. We all stood up and followed the escort upstairs. To me, this was really strange. It was like we were complete strangers, but the 5-6 of us were all going in this thing together. Thankfully, we all got our separate rooms. I'd hate for more people to see me in a hospital gown. So, I was pretty excited this morning!

I am not sure who gets this excited to have a major surgery, but I think I knew that they were finally getting the cancer out of me and that made me feel good. MAYO has the nicest people working there. The nurse came in and prepared me somewhat and did I have some fun with her bright and early. She was very sweet and played along very well. I bet in reality she couldn't wait until they put me to sleep! So....here I go.

Um, I guess I didn't like my little head gear. I put it back on and my mom, dad, and Angie gave me their love. I was being wheeled back into the procedure room trying to take everything in. It was like entering into the twilight zone. The nurse locked me into place and I was swarmed with more nurses. There were nurses ahead of me preparing instruments, so there was a lot of clanging. I had a nurse on each side of me, one was putting oxygen on and trying to carry on a normal conversation with me. I didn't have interest at this point in telling her where I worked and so on because the other nurse was attempting to put my IV in. She was not having much success. My veins had been poked so many time in the past few weeks, I do believe they were tired. I squirmed a little and I guess she finally got one in somewhere. I really don't recall much after that because my friend behind me must have gassed me out.
Next thing I knew I was barely waking up asking the nurse what time it was? I am thinking she said 3 something. That couldn't be right, they started my procedure I thought at 8 and it took them that long? Heck, I don't know, I was all drugged up.

I don't recall much of the rest of that day. I do remember seeing my aunt and uncle who were sweet enough to make the drive up. I also remember hearing my uncle say "Go Cubs!" I was really confused and didn't know if that was my drugs talking because he is a die hard Cardinals fan. They hugged me and took off. I also remember seeing Angie's sister Paula and my good friend Ace (Angie Avery is her real name, but she will always be Ace to me). My sister, Kale (my youngest nephew), and Sophia (my great-niece) were there. I must have looked pretty scary because Kale was screaming at the top of his lungs. I even tried talking to him and that seemed to scare him more. Jacque and Tyler (her youngest) also came to visit. They actually didn't come to visit, that poor group of people waited for me all day. I love them all! My sister even bought me the Green Bay Mickey Mouse blanky :) Angie was right by my side and my mom and dad were too. Eventually, they all had to leave, but my mom stayed the night with me.
The rest of that day really sucked. I had a chest tube put in and it was resting right on a nerve. I had never really experienced pain like that. I kept telling myself "it could be worse." Typically to remove a lobe of the lung, doctors have to break your ribs to get to it. My doc was sure he wouldn't have to do that and instead use a scope to get to it. THANK the Good Lord, he didn't have to break any of my ribs. If he had, my recovery would have been 4-6 MONTHS! Instead, my recovery was 4-6 weeks. I think knowing that made the pain a little easier. However, the nurses had me walk with that chest tube in and I could barely move or breath because it would hit that nerve. Somehow, I mustard through it every time. I also had an epidural in to ease the pain a little. I was incredibly uncomfortable!
Every two hours the nurses would come in and check on me. They were all so awesome, except this one.....she made me want to jump out the window.
Every so many hours, the nurses had to give me a shot in the belly to prevent blood clots. I didn't mind  certain nurses doing it. Some would bunch up my belly and do a quick poke others would do it like they were throwing a dart. Those got old after awhile too.
The next day, I think, a lady came in to remove my chest tube. YIKES. That was the oddest feeling ever. I turned into Angie and she consoled me while the nurse said "Ready!" Ready or not, that thing came out and I can't even describe the feeling. Thank goodness that one was over.  Having that out did relieve some of the uncomfortableness and pain.
Every time I would get out of the bed, I would get nauseous. I was so pumped full of drugs and the after affects of anesthesia I am sure was the cause. So, two mornings in a row the nurse that made me want to jump out the window, would come in. I was sitting in the recliner trying to get over the nausea. This nurse came over to me demanding I order breakfast at the very moment, put Milk of Magnesia in my face and demanded I drink it at that very moment and than proceeded to tell me that she needed to give me a shot in the belly! I looked at her and said, "Miss, I am not feeling the greatest right now, can you GIVE ME A MINUTE!" She insisted, "I need to witness you drinking the Milk of Magnesia and I don't mean to nag you about it, but I need you to drink it, like now."
I am thinking....Lady, if you make me drink any form of liquid that I don't find appealing at this moment, you will be receiving the Milk of Magfreakingnesia in your face. More nagging she did, so I finally gave her the nastiest look, downed the M of M, threw open my gown for her to give me the shot, and told my mom to order whatever breakfast she wanted. Hoping my actions would get her out of the room ASAP! I don't typically act this way.....This leads me to needing a breather! I'll be back with more experiences from my first surgery. By the way....the doctors removed one entire lobe on my right lung and took 10-12 lymph nodes surrounding the tumor. Two of those lymph nodes came back positive. Not necessarily a good sign....

What about that liver??

You all may want to take a look back to the "And Megan Says" post to refresh your memory about where we stand at this point. I had my liver biopsy and finally got to meet the liver surgeon. Man, we were all so nervous and this time it was just me, my mom, and Angie.
Oh, before I tell you about the liver surgeon....I totally forgot to mention something very important. Do you all remember me telling you how BIG of a DEAL I AM? Yeah? Well, I am not kidding, I really think I am. :) So much so, that after telling most of my doctor's and nurses this big deal story, my sister comes up with a brilliant idea. Since we all keep the medical staff guessing which person is the patient when they walk in the room to 16 people, we started saying "not it" "not it" etc....until the eyes all got to me. I raise one finger and simply say, "it." I'm not even joking, this is a game the whole family can play in the doctor's office. I love the looks on people's faces. Anyway, my sister decided to make t-shirts for all of us and guess what they say? On every one's front it says, "NOT IT" (except for mine, it says "IT") and on the back they say "Team Steph: She a pretty big deal" (On mine it says "I am the pretty big deal) and than has the lung cancer ribbon. We have worn those every where we go, we get a lot of funny looks and funny questions. My dad, nephew and I were walking in Rochester with our shirts, I bet a handful of people said to us "not it!" Than they finally say, well who is it? I never really answer on the street, I think it's kind of funny to watch people wonder.

Anyway back to the liver surgeon. She had it easy with just us three. I was nervous, my legs were shaking, my heart was racing, seems to be the same symptoms every time I've walked into a doctor's office that awful day. The lung surgeon, her name was Dr. Lombardo....pretty close to Lombardi, so I knew she had to be cool. She came in and had a look of shock in her eyes at how young I look. That's a surprise!(Insert sarcasm here) She looks over my goods, pulls up all the scans, talks to me a little bit and than gets on the phone. She didn't have my biopsy results in her hands yet, but within a few minutes the strenuous, secret, and scary answers was folded up in the nurses hand. She had just delivered my fate. Was that spot on my liver cancer or not? For the 3rd time?? She was still on the phone, read that piece of paper and immediately looked over at me with the widest eyes. She showed me what that paper said, I was thinking I should be a little hopeful, but I didn't know what those 3 words said because I am not a doctor. They were big, long, and confusing words. I must have looked at her completely scared and clueless because she wrote on there for me NORMAL LIVER TISSUE!!! So, that meant no cancer? Obviously my mom knew what those words were because she jumped out of her chair and threw her arms around me and started crying in celebration. I was still so confused!
Dr. Lombardo finally hung up the phone looked at me with the same confusion I had in my eyes, I am pretty sure. She was happy about what that piece of paper said, but wasn't happy about the spot lighting up "VERY" active on that PT scan. She did tell us not to get too excited or too hopeful, but to pray because this could be a good thing. She also said that she needs to do some talking with the rest of the team. We all knew what that meant, no immediate answers and out we went.
On this drive back home, Angie and I were both trying to decide how high are hopes should get while my mom's hopes were sky high. A little into the drive we come across Diamond Jo's Casino. We usually stop here for a pee break and when we do, we drive right past Diamond Jo's and say maybe next time!
A couple of days later, I get a phone call. Who ever was on the other end told me that the team has gathered and discussed how awesome I am. This discussion went a little something like this: So the team has met, reviewed all of your tests and scans. The team feels that a tumor oblation would be the best way to approach the spot on your liver. We will schedule this procedure a couple of weeks after your lung surgery. How does this sound you? This is where I said....Uh What???? I don't know what the tumor ovulation means. I stand corrected, the nice man on the other side said, I am sorry that's tumor OBLATION where we will get into the spots on your liver and burn them until they disappear. O, thank you for clarifying. Sounds fun! Ok, so there it is. I got the plan to have my lung tumor removed on August 28 and September 13 I am going under again for the liver. Whoooo hoooo. Answers!

The 1st Day of School.....

Let me take this blog space to share with you the greatness I have experienced since that July 20 day. I never really understood why I moved back to Iowa and left the mountains, well other than my family and Angie. Ok, I suppose they are all good enough reasons. Needless to say, I will never EVER again question this. When people started hearing my news, I was and still am being showered with love and support.
First, I will start with my boss. What an amazing woman she is. She was one of the first people after Angie, I talked to that day and she has been by my side ever since. There is no way I would be where I am today professionally and personally without her. She is the boss and she gets things done! She also introduced me to another wonderful woman whom I have mentioned, Kay. Kay has been through 4 cancers, including lung. She has been my go to gal. She really is an inspiration and calms me whenever I feel a little crazy. She too has been along with us on this ride. For someone who didn't know me or my family, she didn't hesitate to help us. Now that's a truly GREAT person.
Second, the Prairie-City and Monroe communities have been so generous. I receive numerable amounts of cards, gift cards, gifts, the list goes on. These people are the epitome of small town greatness. I almost can't find the words to describe how generous they have all been. I can't even express how grateful I am to all of them.
Third, my staff and colleagues. The schools had gathered gift cards and other gifts as well to give their support. Unbelievable! My middle school staff....truly amazing. To this day they have a basket of "Smiles for Steph" I am very honored to be their administrator.
Fourth, my students. I still can't get over the fact that they ALL actually want their principal at school. That 1st day of school, I planned to meet with all of my students and be this rough and tough principal, don't mess around in MY school, here are the rules that YOU WILL follow and DON'T show up in my office or you will be sorry. Yeah, well that attitude changed real quick, before I could even get a word out. Look at these pictures and than I will continue....

EVERY single one of my students and staff had on these shirts. I don't know who was in charge, but it was absolutely incredible. They also planned this photo op. All of the students and staff attempted to make a ribbon with me in the middle and than a picture was taken from the rooftop! I must have done something right. :)

I really have to mention my family and friends. I am blessed with the best family and friends anyone can have. They are the reason I am strong and they are the reason I will fight this and win! I love them all beyond words and I only hope they all know who I am talking about. It's not just me going through cancer, it's all of us. It's not easy, but being together makes it bearable. I feel that I am leaving so many people out, if I am I am sorry. The 28th is approaching........