A Year Ago

One year ago at 4 a.m. I was lying in my mom's bed with Angie on one side of me and my mom on the other. I couldn't sleep in my own bed at my own house because 18 hours before, I received a death sentence of Stage 4 Lung Cancer. As I prepared for Angie to leave that morning for work (and it was the last thing she wanted to do), I lost it. I couldn't imagine what was going through her mind after she left, I didn't even know what was going through my own mind. But what I do know is what I heard just the day before had finally hit me, I of all people, have cancer.
Yesterday, at 9:30 a.m. it had been exactly one year since that awful day. It is absolutely unbelievable what one year holds within it's months, days, hours and seconds. I was in a trap. I wrestled with the unknown, the fear, the hurt, the confusion and most importantly I wrestled with how do I stay strong for those that love me. Through the entire battle, it was never about me. Yes, I was the one who looked death in the face. I was the one laying on the cold tables having needles go in and out. I was the one who laid on the gurney trusting that the doctor would open me up and remove what was slowly killing me. I was the one who had a box inserted in my chest that was struck over 75 times through the whole process. I was the one who laid in that bed while posion was floating through my body. Posion that made my head and mind feel like they were taking a continuous ride on a roller coaster with the largest hills you've ever seen and loops that go upside down and sideways. Poison that made me question how much longer I could handle things and how much more my body could take without giving up. Posion that made me bed ridden, dehydrated and sick like I had the flu 100 times worse than the normal flu. Posion that would keep Angie awake a night just to make sure that I was doing ok and to rub my back when I couldn't leave the bathroom. Poison that put me in the emergency room with frozen limbs and electricity tingles going through my body on the verge of stopping my heart. POISON, that kept me alive.
On this, my "cancerversary" I have many mixed emotions. There are days where it seems my cancer didn't exsist and this was all just a bad dream. But, than I look in the mirror and see all the scars or I climb up the stairs and can't catch my breath. I can't even make it dancing through the whole song of Footloose any more. There are days when I wonder how long I will live. Sometimes I think what if....what if I only live until I am 50, what am I going to do until than? What if I hear those awful words again? After all, I will have that chance the rest of my life, however long that will be. There are days where I live so carefree and not think twice about anything, I just do it. Than there are moments when I am alone and it seems like my life passes before my eyes. I find myself asking, "what have you done?" What have I done with this life? Who have I impacted? Who have I helped? Who am I? Is it enough? If tomorrow is all I have, am I satisfied? Do the people who love me know exactly how much I love them back? Here are the answers to those questions........
I haven't done enough, but I don't know what to do and I know I will figure it out. I haven't impacted enough or helped enough people. I know that I am me....but that's about it. It is not enough and I am not satisfied. And those people who love me, they need to know more from me.
It is so crazy how cancer can change everything about you and your way of thinking. For me, it's a change for the good. Do I want to go through all of this again? H E DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS NO!!!!! But, it was me that God chose. He chooses a lot of people to suffer through this disease and some He decides to take with him and it's hard to understand why, but He needs them for something. I thank Him everyday that He's not quite ready for me and I surely hope He's not for a long, long, very long time. He has big plans for me, I wish I knew what they were. He's not done with me and I promise you that. He even told me himself yesterday morning as soon as I woke up. Look at this picture below and see if you agree that The Man is not done with me. If there ever was a non-believer....well.....

                                      (My bedroom door the morning of July 20, 2013. One year later after cancer                                                                              diagnosis)
You see, my battle was a test. It was a test of my faith and love. Because of this, my faith is stronger and so is my love and my determination to do something bigger and better with what is left. This was never about me. It was about Him and the people who love me. After all, that is who and what I LIVE for!!! In the words of an incredibly strong and inspirational woman, Robin Roberts..."When fear knocks on the door, let Faith open it."

May God bless you all for your continued love and support for me, Angie and my family. We could not have battled this hard without you all. I will continue the battle because of you!

It's been a long time....

Geez, I almost forgot how to do this. I thought I would send out a little check in to let you all know where I am at in my journey. Since my scare from the ER to my last treatment on Valentine's Day, I have been living my life to the fullest. I no longer have to have magnesium transfusions and I am slowly regaining some what of a sense of normalcy. There are still times where I have subtle reminders of what I have been through the last 8 months. Every day my feet feel swollen, tingly, sometimes painful, and it messes my balance up at times. My hands feel the same, they call it Neuropathy and I don't like it. They tell me that it may not go away, but it is better than the alternative. All of this still seems unreal.
Today is my 34th birthday. In the past, when my birthday would come and go, I'd feel a little sadness because I didn't want to get any older for fear I'd lose my sense of humor, the fun, light heartedness, my passion, etc. Cancer totally rearranged my thoughts about that. Today, I embrace the fact that I am here to celebrate another year, or to celebrate that the last year is behind me. Matter of fact, from here on out I will be over joyed with another birthday as that is more life I get to experience. That's more time with my family, my friends, more snow to shovel, grass to mow, dog crap to pick up...you know all the little things in life. I certainly appreciate those little things more than ever before.
Driving home from work today, I found it very strange that Tim McGraw's song "Live Like You Were Dying" started playing. I haven't heard that song in a long time. It made me think about the night before when I looked at Angie and told her that I still get scared. As I put the car in park and just sat and listened to the words, the song hit home for the first time...... I want to ride a bull named Fu Man Chu, maybe that's just what I'll do. Some of you are probably thinking, is she serious and why in the heck would she want to do that? Oh, I am serious and I'll tell you why... because it's crazy, it's something more powerful than me, it's scary, it's something to defeat and the last bull I rode bucked me off in 4 seconds. As you have figured out, I don't like defeat and I don't like to be scared.
My Pastor has been teaching us about taking risks, his series on this topic really intrigues me. I think about his words when the thought of being scared runs through my head. God's got my back. So, even if Fu Man Chu bucked me off in .2 seconds and chases me with his long ol horns, I'm going to be ok.
The other part of the song that got me.... I certainly have a lot of love to give, but I am going to love deeper just so there is never a question from anyone in my life about how I feel or felt about them. That's one of my biggest fears, people not knowing.
I honestly do not have the words to really express how differently I look at life right now and I hope that never changes. This has been my life the past 8 months:

To end this blog, here's a letter:
Dear Stage 3b-4 Lung Cancer,
You suck. You scared me, my family and friends. You made me sick, tired and you made me question whether or not I could fight you. You could have killed me and came awfully close to doing so.You took away my smile as you can see from those pictures.  But, guess what, I had a birthday today and you didn't take that away from me, you never will and my smile.....it's back. So, tell your master nice try and that my master is way more powerful and there's not a damn thing he can do about it. Also, you can leave me alone now and leave my friends alone too, cuz they will beat the crap out of you as well. While you are at it, tell your other cohorts to leave my family and friends alone because your stupid cancer won't destroy any of us. Sooooooo, bite me.

Sincerely,
Your worst night mare!

It's Been a Long Time.....

Good evening followers. It has been awhile since I have felt energized enough to sit down and write, you have missed out on quite a bit. Let me try to catch you up. If I remember right, which I often do not due to chemo, I last wrote before my final two treatments. Let's begin with the second to last treatment. It sucked and was the hardest one yet. I got sick and got sick some more. I honestly felt like the treatment was killing me. Angie was by my side the entire time, helping me in the middle of the night. She would get up and rub my back while I prayed to the porcelain god every time. She would hound me about constantly drinking and make me anything I needed to eat. The problem was, I couldn't drink nor did I want to and I certainly did not want to eat. Every time I took a sip, it felt like I was swallowing liquid nails. Every time I would attempt to eat, I'd have to be close to the bathroom. Angie was beginning to think like me. Neither one of us thought my body or I could handle another treatment, but eventually I started to feel better and low and behold came the final round.
I did not want to go through the final round, but my doctor convinced me that at my age, it was necessary. So, I put my big girl boots on, saddled up and did it. I had some wonderful and inspiring people come and visit me during my last 5 hour stay. The more time I arrived and spent at the Cancer Center, it made me nauseous. I started getting sick before they even hooked me up and than again during my drips. Every time I lost my cookies, I felt the need to apologize to the nurses as if I was the first one they've seen get sick.
After much sleeping, hurling, and dealing with anxiety I made it through the weekend. Now comes the scary part. On Monday, February 11 I woke with a strange tingling throughout my body. I'm not talking a feel good tingle, I am talking like massive volts moving through my body. This concerned me enough to call my nurse. She told me that if I had any loss of movement to get to the ER, other than that it was all part of the game. Eventually, the tingles went away until the next day that is. Tuesday, February 12 (Angie's Birthday) may have been the scariest day of my life. The tingles returned and this time it was ten times worse. I remember looking at Angie and telling her that I thought I needed to see somebody. By the time we got into the car, I couldn't move my hands, they were stuck. By the time we backed out, my face was frozen. I couldn't talk, I couldn't squeeze my hands, I felt paralyzed. After what seemed like days, we made it to the hospital. Angie walked actually half way ran me to the Cancer Center in Newton, where I go to get fluids. My nurse there came running to us and told Angie to get me up to the ER quickly. Angie was so brave and held it together, but at this point she broke down a little and told my nurse that I was scarring her. By this time, my legs wouldn't work and my eyes started tweaking out. Angie and my nurse helped me into a wheel chair and Angie sprinted to the ER. I don't remember much of that day, but I do remember the nurse taking such good care of me. I also remember asking her if I was going to die. It felt like I was having little strokes and I honestly felt like I was slipping away. I felt some comfort when the nurse told me that I wasn't going to die, but that didn't make the feelings go away. I started having a panic attack on top of every thing else, which made me feel worse if that was possible. Before I knew my mom showed up, my sissy and daddy followed shortly after. The last one to come was my boss Jane. They were all by my side just like they have been.
The ER doctor finally came into see me, he had no idea what was going on, but he was very thorough. As if I wasn't scared enough, he told me he was going to get a scan of my brain. I must have looked at him as if he were a ghost, what did that mean and why did he need to see my brain? I found out after the fact, that Angie thought maybe the cancer had spread to my brain. She had to be so terrified. The doctor also told me that they wanted to send me to Des Moines by ambulance and that didn't settle well either. I think that's when the nurse came in and gave me some anti-anxiety meds. Whatever it was must have worked because I settled down just a tad, enough that they didn't have to send me by ambulance. My sissy drove all of us instead. But, before we left my mom had asked the ER doc about my magnesium and potassium levels. Why did she do that and what did that mean? Don't forget this part, I'll explain in a minute.
We get to Des Moines to see my oncologist and by this time my body stopped tingling a bit, I forced myself to make a fist, and my eyes stopped tweaking. I was thinking that my nurse there and the doc probably thought I was crazy. They didn't seem too confident they knew what was going on either. My mom once again asked about my potassium and magnesium levels. Doc didn't seemed to concerned, but he must have seen something odd because I had to get an infusion of some kind. I felt really bad that we had to spend Angie's birthday in that fashion. At least we didn't have to spend the night in the hospital, which very easily could have been an option. After my infusion, we finally get to go home, but first we had to make a stop at the pharmacy. Added on to my laundry list of pills was a bottle of magnesium supplements, potassium supplements, and calcium supplements. Holy crap, I don't think I could swallow all of these and why in the heck do I need them. It turns out, I honestly feel like my mom saved my life that day. To be continued............
After my trip to the ER, Wednesday the 13th came and went and finally it was Valentine's Day. The day I have been praying for, the last day of treatment. At first I was wondering if I was well enough to get treatment, but thankfully I was good enough. Angie and my mom were being awfully weird on this day and I knew they were up to something. They had been sneaking things around and whispering for days, but I couldn't focus on that. The only thing I could focus on was to not get sick and just get through this treatment. In the couple hours we were there, I had a few visitors. My daddy came, which made me happy and than some friends, Kristin and Tracy. I thought this was awfully sweet of them, strange, but sweet. Much to my surprise, after my treatment and a quick prayer yet again to the porcelain god, we walked out of there for the last time and there standing where a bunch of friends and family! They all had a white carnation and a white balloon. This is why my mom and Angie were being so weird. They came to surprise me and what a great job they did. They presented me with a make shift check of $1,000 some dollars. My family graciously went behind my back and created a fund for people to donate $14.00 to on the 14th. The money collected would go to anything I wanted to do with it. How incredibly awesome is this! Wait until you hear what I have planned.......
As the days went by, I felt again like I couldn't take much more, but I trudged through. A few days later, I had to get my blood checked. So I did and off to work I went. I got a phone call with the results and I immediately needed to go in for an infusion of magnesium. Finally, my nurse explained to me that the reason I ended up in the ER was due to my extremely low levels of potassium and magnesium. My mom hit the nail right on the head, that was my problem.
I have my blood checked every week and every week it comes back saying I need more. I found out this last time that my magnesium level on the day of the ER was at 0.5 and it should be at minimum 1.8. I was at a point where my heart should have stopped. My mom saved me. As of today, my potassium level is normal, my magnesium level is 1.2 and my creatinine level is high (which is not great, sort of means my kidneys are not acting like they should). My muscles have atrophied, but the most important thing is that I am feeling better every day. This has got me thinking.....................

A Great Father

Sitting in church this past Sunday, I heard a lot about how great and wonderful our Father is. While I believe that is absolutely true, without a doubt, I want to talk about how great my earthly father is. I have always wanted to be like my dad, I mean look at me for crying out loud. Matter of fact, I am certain that the doctor's told my parents to expect a boy and I am sure that thrilled my father. Much to his surprise, he got me. I must have heard the doctor tell my parents that though, because I certainly don't act like a girl and I never have.
Some of my best memories as a kid revolve around my dad. He has a favorite spot on the Skunk River, where his cabin sits. We spent a lot of time out there fishing, running diddy poles, and just hanging out. He has a story he tells about me sitting on a table out there chewing his tobacco. Apparently, I had a few wads in my mouth and I turned to look at him and with a mouthful told him, "Dad, I gotta spit." I was probably 3. I do believe I had my first taste of beer out there too, or I should say sips. From what I remember, I kinda liked it. I also remember a time where I had to go to the bathroom and other than the river, there was very little choice other than to find a tree and squat. However, as memory serves me correctly, I didn't squat. I wanted to be like my dad, so I stood up to pee and as you can imagine, it didn't work out as well for me. I would always get excited to drive out there too. He had a brown Ford pick up and his tapes were neatly arranged under the seat. There were Merle Haggard tapes and the best song was "Like a snowball headed for Hell." Than there was Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson and Dad and I would roll to "Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys." His all time favorite song was "Tear stained letter" by Jo-el Sonnier. I think my all time favorite other than the above mentioned was "You're just a coca cola cowboy" by Mel Tillis. Whenever I hear any of those songs, it takes me back to the good ol days with Dad.
Some other awesome memories I have are the days when we would watch baseball. Dad would always be eating Ruffle chips and on a good day we would have bacon and horseradish dip to go with those chips. There were a lot of nights where we would dish up some ice cream too. When I wanted to play catch, he would play with me. He taught me how to shoot my bow and arrow and than he would bring me deer hunting with him. I can see those deer hanging in our garage as plain as day. Dad also made his own maple syrup, I think it was maple syrup???? Anyway, there was a big barrel with steam coming out of it and it smelled like maple syrup. Dad would make my sister and I Mickey Mouse pancakes and I thought that was pretty amazing. To this day I try to make those same pancakes and they come out looking nothing like Mickey Mouse.
These are just a few memories I have with my Dad. I couldn't ask for a better father. He taught me respect, to work hard, and many other life lessons that have brought me to where I am today. So, on the eve of my 2nd to last round of treatment, I dedicate this one to my Father. Love you Dad.

How does one have so much support, yet still feel so alone? When I am home, I think. When I am at work, I think. When I am watching a movie, I think. At 1 in the morning, I think and it's awful lonely. I have so many people to talk to, so many people that love me, so many people that run through my mind when I am thinking. I bet you are telling yourself that Steph's problem, she thinks too much and you are probably right, but I can't stop thinking. Now, I bet you are asking yourself what the heck I am thinking so much about, or maybe your not. Maybe you are asking yourself why you are reading this while you could be watching The Ellen Show? Well, for those unfaithful followers of Ellen I will tell you what I think about.
I think, holy crap I have Cancer and I am missing a part of my lung, how did this happen? How did my life change so quickly and why am I feeling sorry for myself after all, I am still alive. But am I still alive? There are so many people worse off than me, but I feel like this Cancer is taking the life I used to live. My life now is so different. Instead of waking up and running to work, I wake up and wonder if I am going to feel good enough to get through a day of work. Instead of looking forward to hitting the sack to end a long but successful day, I dread the evening. The evening brings a new day and that new day is a day closer to my next treatment. You see I only have two major treatments left. To all of you, two seems like a piece of cake and close to the end of the road. To me, it seems like an eternity and waiting for these last two is way worse than anticipating the first two. I am sick and I am tired of being sick. It takes longer and longer for me to bounce back after treatment. The anxiety I have thinking about being sick makes me physically sick. But, again what am I complaining about, there is an end to my road! I guess this is just the place where I can get my thoughts out and not hear anyone tell me, "yeah, but Steph look where you started and how far you have come. You are almost done." I know all of this, but I am still the one who for 10 days + feels like absolute S@#&!
I also think about when I was going to Mayo all of those times. I remember my oncologist there told me that he would treat me with 8 to 12 treatments. 12 if my body could handle it, but 8 would probably do the trick. My doc in Des Moines said flat out 12. So, after I have completed 8, I now am thinking of asking my doc if it's really necessary to finish my last two treatments. My body is telling me one thing, my mind is telling me 1,000 different things. If I don't finish my last two, will my Cancer come back? Will it come back even if I finish? Can my body handle another two rounds? Are these last two treatments overkill and if I don't complete them will it be underkill? Will my legs always feel tingly and weak, will the ringing in my ears go away? What will my life be like when this is all said and done? Will I have to take all of these pills when I am done? I take more pills than my grandparents do put together. How does Angie put up with me? I am so different and a lot of times depressed....I take a pill for that. These questions go on and on all of the time.

  Yeah that's me the Thinker.
I have never been the one to quit, no matter how hard it gets. I haven't faced anything quite this hard. If I quit now, do I want to spend the rest of my life wondering what if? Will I wonder what if anyway? I guess we will see what happens next Thursday! What will happen Thursday.....see the thinking never ends.