Well, today has been a bit of a rough day. I woke up at 4 am with a headache that is still here 17 hours later. (I think my math is right there... My brain isn't working too well today.) I was starting to wonder if they were really giving me chemo this whole time because I really haven't felt too badly. At least now I can rest assured that they are in fact giving me the correct medicine! :) I have the best support system and family. My little sister (that's her and me in the picture above just minutes before I buzzed my head the other week) was at dinner when she heard I wasn't feeling well, and left immediately to come take care of me. I haven't had to leave my bed since she's been here. She's gone to get me food, drinks, and medicine and rubbed my back and my feet. She's the best. I have so many people willing to drop everything at any moment to come help me do the smallest things, and I am so moved and humbled by their love and sacrifices for me. Thank you all for your cards, messages, thoughts, and prayers. I am doing really well overall. This is just a tough day physically and it's to be expected. I had my biggest chemo dose just yesterday, so I kind of expected a rough day today. This physical difficulty hasn't touched my spirit. I'm still cracking jokes and having a good time. I'm just doing it from bed in the dark with no loud noises. It's a great party!
I did not know what to expect when pressing "publish" on this blog. Putting it all out there was something that does not always come naturally to me. But I just feel so strongly that this is my purpose in this time. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful the outpouring of messages, love, support, prayers, and everything in between has been in response. My heart is full to bursting. You guys are amazing. A big benefit of this process has been the transformation that has happened in me. Those who know me well know that I am naturally introverted. Going up to a stranger or taking initiative to talk to someone is pretty much against my nature. I have been known to run away awkwardly from situations that would present those interactions. Haha! Pretty much since the beginning of this process, a new bravery has miraculously presented itself. I find myself looking at those strangers and situations I am placed in more closely, listening more sharply, and I have gone up and introduced myself and told my story to those I have felt led to. It's nuts! My mom can't believe I'm not a stranger danger ranger anymore. But God has been so clear in pulling me toward people He would have me talk to, it has been amazing to see. Through my adult life, I have not personally seen someone close to me go through chemotherapy. I don't know what to expect. I am not familiar with the process or the toll it can have. The day before I blogged the last post, I attended my friend Melanie's baptism at our church. As my friend Jolé and I pulled into the church parking lot, and parked, out of the car directly beside me, climbed a woman wearing a head scarf. What. Are. The. Odds?! I felt drawn to talk to her, and hoped to run into her after service. She happened to sit directly in my line of vision, so after service, I beelined to her, and asked the most tactful question I could think of, "Hi, I'm Kelly. Do you have cancer?" Yep. Excellent people skills here, folks. In my excited state, I just didn't know how else in that moment to open up the dialogue, and I had decided from the time of my diagnosis that I was not going to baby the word "cancer" or treat it like a bad word. She was extremely gracious at my abrupt introduction and interrogation. She did have cancer, and we exchanged contact information to meet and discuss our journeys more and to pray for each other. I was elated. The day after I blogged, it was a BEAUTIFUL day, so I headed to our local downtown coffee shop's back deck to pursue my favorite trifecta of pastimes- coffee, reading, and sunshine. I hadn't been sitting very long when a man and a young woman walked past and sat two table over from me. They caught my eye as they walked in, but I didn't pay much mind. My hearing isn't great, and I am not one to eavesdrop, but the word "treatment" floated twice to my ears from their conversation. I immediately felt that tug again. "Go talk to her." I fought it for a second. I didn't know what kind of treatment she was talking about, or if it was even her own, but the tug was so strong. I got up, walked over, and again, so eloquently introduced myself. "Hi, I'm Kelly, and I'm sorry, but I overheard you say something about treatments? What are you dealing with?" She was exceptionally gracious at my intrusion, and I met this amazing, beautiful 23-year-old woman who is facing her SECOND battle with breast cancer. We also exchanged information and will meet next week. I was in awe and overwhelmed at how clearly God had put two people in my path in a period of two days who better understand a journey I am so unfamiliar with. I texted some friends immediately about the experience. My friend Rachel happened to be just up the road at that moment, so she came to meet me and we walked down to the trails and sat by the bank of the river and talked about how amazing the response to the blog had been, and how I could see my Father leaving such clear love notes for me in my day-to-day activities. As we talked, a young woman and man with their beautiful young daughter walked hand in hand off of the paved trails to the dirt trails where Rachel and I were sitting by the river. The mom had a camera strapped around her neck, and I offered to take their picture together. She excitedly agreed, and I snapped some photos, played with their daughter for a moment, and went back to sit down. The woman walked up to me and asked, "Did I happen to see a blog about you?" Whoa. "Maaaaybe...", I laughed. She said that she was touched by it, and wished me well. That would have been amazing enough right there, but she went on to say that they aren't from town. A mutual friend of ours had shared the link to my blog, she had read it, and they happened to be in town from over three hours away. Yep. Let that sink in for a moment. I'm not in a crowded public place. I'm sitting in the dirt by the river, off the beaten path. At that exact place, at that exact moment, complete strangers come by FROM OUT OF TOWN, I interact with them (again, something I would very likely would NOT have done prior to this journey), she recognizes me, and tells me what the blog meant to her. How amazing is my God?!! God has been so clear and present in letting me know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I am overwhelmed with such gratitude that I can not properly express. There is such intense peace and freedom in that security. No matter what is happening. No matter what is coming. I am where I am supposed to be. It is a good and beautiful place to be. I have never been in a better place. I know that can seem strange, but it is true. I am not struggling. I am being carried. My Father has me in His arms so tightly, there is no room for fear and dread. Only joy. Thank you all again so much for your support and prayers!! "In all this you greatly rejoice,though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls." 1 Peter 1:6-9 Okay, let’s back the story up a bit. On December 29th, 2014, I was lying in bed and noticed the left side of my abdomen was protruding much further than the right side, and it was visibly pulsing up and down. I of course did what any rational, sane person would do if they want to absolutely freak out - I googled that mess. WebMD and the Mayo Clinic convinced me I was on the verge of an abdominal aneurysm, so I promptly took myself to an after hours walk-in clinic, and they promptly sent me to the Emergency Room. I’m not normally one to go to the doctor, so I was talking myself out of it the whole way there. When I arrived, all of Lynchburg seemed to be there as well. There was barely a seat open in the waiting room. I wasn’t in pain, so I considered just leaving and forgetting the whole thing, but the receptionist looked at me like I was crazy when I told her why I was there and that I was considering leaving. She told me that if she had a pulsating mass in her abdomen, she would sit her butt down until she was seen. She kind of made sense, so that’s what I settled in to do, even though I figured since my pain level was zero, I was in for a 7 hour or more wait. When the triage nurse called me up to assess me, I showed her the crazy stomach alien thing I had going on, and answered honestly that I wasn’t in any pain. She said, “We’ll have a room for you in five minutes.” Within 10 minutes, I was lying in a bed in Major Bay 4 of the ER, hooked up to my very first IV and heart monitor, thoroughly convinced that I was being prepared for emergency surgery, and wanting my mommy something fierce. They ran me through a CT scan, and the doctor came in to tell me that I wasn’t in immediate danger, but that I had a giant cyst in my ovary and to follow up with my gynecologist. Relieved that I didn’t have to be cut open, I about danced out of that emergency room. I considered not following up with my gynecologist as instructed. I’ve had ovarian cysts before, and I can be a touch irrational and stubborn. Through some prodding, I did follow up, and I sat across from my GYN as he reviewed my scan, as he said that the ovarian cyst was actually bigger than my uterus and looked “suspicious”, and he ordered some cancer blood work. The cancer tests came back indicating a possibility of cancer, and I was referred to a GYN Oncologist. I was told by this oncologist that the left ovary had to come out, but that they would try their best to preserve my other ovary and uterus so that I could have children. From there, I was referred to a fertility specialist. Due to an unrelated condition, it was found that my uterus was not able to saved, and that I would have to have a hysterectomy, but that they would try to save my other ovary. So, February 12th, 2015, my mom and I headed to up UVA to have this crazy big abdominal surgery. The surgery is a bit of a blur, but when I came to, the first thing I remember is my mom by my side fighting tears. I asked her if they saved my other ovary. She shook her head no. I asked her if it was cancer, and she cried as she told me, “Yes. It is.” I just nodded and said, “Okay. We can do this.” We waited about a week to hear the full results of the biopsies. It was fairly good news. The only place they found the cancer was in my left ovary. It looked like it was contained and found early, and hadn’t spread, so I was staged a stage I. However, it was mentioned that the cancer I have is very rare, and only presents in 1% of ovarian cancer cases. So that was interesting. I went about my life, until I got another call from my cancer doctor a week later. She had put my name in for a clinical trial for a new chemo drug, and out of only five slots available in the study, my name had been selected for one. The only thing was, I would have to be staged a stage II or higher. She had sent my scans to some other doctors, and they found some spots they thought looked suspicious that they could biopsy, so I was off to UVA again, having a needle stuck in my lung. That was less than pleasant. They got the results back immediately. My amazing oncologist came in to see me personally to tell me that the cancer had spread to my lungs, and that would actually stage me at a stage IV. That was definitely not the news I expected, but my response was the same. “Okay. We’ve got this.” I want to stress that this is not a sad story. Through this process, I have not felt one ounce of fear or apprehension. Well, that’s not entirely true. I have a highly irrational fear of needles. That hasn’t gone away. My blood pressure goes through the roof at the thought of one of those suckers coming at me. Haha! But in all seriousness, from the time the possibility of cancer was brought up, to surgery, to the confirmation of cancer present, to the escalation of the cancer to a stage IV, I have not been afraid or upset. I know that does not make much sense. I promise I see the danger. I am not oblivious. I can see the storm raging around me and I am aware of the possibilities. But over and above all of that, I can feel my Father holding me. I can feel Him loving me and guiding me, and I can hear Him whisper that this storm can touch my body, but it cannot have my mind or my heart. His protection over me is so strong and supernatural, that I actually have intense joy in the face of this disease. It is a beautiful place to be, and I pray that I remain in this place of trusting Him completely. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:9 |
AuthorHi! My name is Kelly, I love Jesus, and when I was 29, I was diagnosed as Stage IV with a very rare form of ovarian cancer. Yep. That about sums it up. This is not a sad story. This is a story of freedom, grace, and unfailing love. Archives
July 2016
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