Just Waiting

I started this year with the word "Inspire." Initially, I believed that the year ahead looked so hopeful as I began to help people with their losses and, in turn, reinforced for me the calling I felt to help others and be an excellent listener—a heart with ears. Things seemed to be going along great with me starting my Grief Recovery Groups. I felt that I could share the process with people and, in turn, help others as I continued to hone my skills as a guide and inspire others with undelivered emotional communications.

In early February, I went in for routine bloodwork, and the results of those tests started my care team to look at reasons for some discrepancy; they proceeded to schedule several scopes and other things to figure out the cause. Most of those tests returned negative, which is positive, but I still didn't have a diagnosis. In early March, I was diagnosed with CKD, Chronic Kidney Disease.CKD I am at stage 3, and after many attempts to stabilize my blood pressure, I'm moving toward the numbers I need to be at with medication and some lifestyle changes. In many instances, patients can maintain for a long while in stage 3 just by correct medicines and healthy lifestyle changes. One of the most challenging things impacted by this is that my energy and strength were at an all-time low. I don’t let much get me down or stop me from doing anything if you know me. I’m a doer. This diagnosis has been overwhelming as I just finished having cancer in 2020, and now, to have another diagnosis with such long-term effects has been challenging for me. Even with all of this, my bloodwork has still not bounced back, and in the next week, I'll have a kidney biopsy to get more specific answers as to why my kidneys aren't functioning correctly.

During the last year, I've learned much about how grief and loss affect us emotionally and physically. There are podcasts I've listened to and books I've read that talk specifically about how our body keeps the score regarding grief and loss. As you might guess, this journey with my health has been emotional for me. Health losses can be hard to process as so much information comes at you; sometimes, it's too much. Much of what I help people with in Grief Recovery are the things in our lives and relationships we wish had been different, better, or more, and our hopes, dreams, and expectations as we all have them. It's in these places that we find the most heartache and brokenness. I'm looking to process my health losses using my training in Grief Recovery. I can tell you that this was not how I planned to go into this new year, with my health leading in all my decisions. As you might guess, this has caused great apprehension in me. I appreciate any prayers as I wait for answers.

Milestones and a Rebranding

This week marks two years since my last radiation treatment, and most say I’ve been cancer-free. My heart always hesitates to say that, as cancer is tricky. Cancer, for me anyway, always seems to be lurking in the background. I’m thankful for the medical technology that has allowed me to have the treatments I need. I’m also grateful that I live in a country where I have the choices I do medically to decide what I need or want and the freedom I still have to choose. So with those choices, I have fulfilled my desire to help others as they navigate not just grief but losses of any kind, including loss of health.

I rebooted my brand earlier this year after training in Grief Recovery. I decided to do a new logo and take a look at what I want to accomplish on this side of loss. So I had photos done of myself, and I wanted a logo that communicated what I wanted to bring to those suffering loss. You can’t use old keys to open new doors. So I want to give people tools/keys so that they have what they need to complete their loss. Photography will still be a tool I use to express my feelings and to help others capture life. It just will play a supporting role now. I want to thank Kristen McGregor for her graphic artist skills and Lynda Kennedy Photography for her branding photography.

I want to thank my husband, who always sees the vast potential in me that I often overlook. To my son Alex who has also been a cheerleader and support on the days when I felt like I could not see the good, you are my sunshine. To all the health professionals who have cared for me during these last two years but even before that, I’m grateful for your heart and skills. To my family and friends, I’m glad to have you in my corner; although I know, sometimes it can be exhausting, thanks for standing with me. Finally, to Evan, I’m unsure if the stress of your passing had anything to do with my cancer as we are finding more research saying that our bodies keep the score when we are suffering loss/grief. Still, you are one of my best motivators to help others in their suffering. Thanks for that. We miss you every day!

More to come as I start the work on my website and continue facilitating The Grief Recovery Method in my community. I’ve added a link if you want to join in the new year. https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/content/valley-church-1673487900

My Christmas Playlist

I opened my Spotify playlist for Christmas recently and was instantly brought back to December 2020. This week marks one year since the beginning and ending of radiation for cancer. The Christmas playlist was something I listened to on my way to and from therapy in Sacramento. For the therapy portion of those days I tried to find songs that had a length of at least 5 minutes as that would be how long my treatments were. Maverick City Music always came through for me as most of their songs are at least that long. I haven't been listening to this playlist this year. I'm not sure why, maybe because I know myself well enough that being transported to that time isn't something I like. It wasn't painful; it was just that it was CANCER. It's like grief. It's constantly in the foreground. Always lurking. I'm grateful that I feel good and that my checkups to this point have been fine. It's just that I never know. So while picking up coffee, I remembered my playlist, and the memories of last year came rushing back.

Mosaic of Seasons

"Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all." Stanley Horowitz

I love this quote as it is a lovely word picture of the seasons and the different art mediums. Fall brings cooler weather, leaves changing, shorter days, and the smell of rain in the air. On the other hand, spring brings the brightest flowers, warmer weather, longer days, and the scent of new beginnings. Fall brings an end to the cycle that will begin again when spring returns. It's part of the journey, and yet we so look forward to spring, at least I do. Fall brings changes and those feelings of loss and grief for me.

This Saturday will mark the last birthday I spent with Evan here on this planet five years ago. It's one of the many birthday memories I have of us as a family, and as I begin this new year, it's a longing to be together that never leaves me. The internet isn't always kind when we see all the family's celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, and other special events, and I am ALWAYS repeating the same photos and feelings. This time of year is hard. I woke up the other day, and this overwhelming sense of grief came over and had me crying into my pillow until the sunrise. The days between tears have gotten longer. Softer. But they're still very hard. Sad. Painful. I read this article about Grief Math and had often wondered if these calculations I do on the future anniversaries and such are just a quirky thing that I do, but I've come to realize that it's a thing. That helped me feel ok about what I do.

So Saturday, I begin my next trip around the sun, and with that, I've come out on the other side one-year cancer-free. YAY! I've recovered from radiation and C*vid, and I've learned who can be trusted and who will see me through when the going gets tough. That has been the most painful and most challenging lesson for me. Just as in the earlier parts of grief, you come to realize who can be in it for the long haul, and you find that most of the time, when you go to lean back, the community has left you, and just a few are left to hold your heart. You also learn that the people who dare to stand with you are the people that have similar wounds that you do. Those people understand, and if your space is filled with a few of these precious souls, you are luckier than most.

So I walk into this birthday, feeling slightly anxious about what the future holds but more resolute to follow my path and with the feelings of grief and loss still right on the surface, ready to wake me in the early morning hours to have me watch for the sunrise.

John and Alex, thanks for always talking me off the edge. You both always find a way to carry my heart even though you, too, are walking out your grief.

Looking in the Rearview Mirror

There has been a gloom that has settled over my soul that I can't seem to shake. As much as I try, this feeling is always just on the edge of my heart, and most days, I can keep it at bay. If you were to ask my husband or anyone close to me, they would say that it is evident in my attitude and responses. I've come to realize that this gloom is just grief. My anger, my silence, my anxious thoughts, and my discontent...is grief. So on this day, 8/30, it is officially National Grief Awareness Day. What a funny thing! Funny, not in a ha-ha kind of way but in a WTH type of way. For people who have suffered loss, grief is every day. It is a never-ending thought or feeling, and although we may not speak of it every day, it is EVER present.

Last year moving into this week, it had been a rough time, and I believe even then, although I felt anxious about the world, I thought I had lived through the worst of it and was rounding a corner. I started having some issues within my body during this time, which I attributed to the shutdown. My doctor disagreed and told me she wanted to see me. But everything took twice as much time cause of C*v#d. So after multiple appointments which spanned months apart when I got the call from my doctor on that Thursday last year that I had cancer, I went into the fight or flight and self-preservation mode. Only to get a call the following day that my mom had passed away. It put me in motion to walk through over a month of planning, talking, processing, and lastly, watching as things fell into place. It gave me great comfort from God as only He could have set the many doctors' appointments, bloodwork, scans, and other things that needed to be done before my surgery. The aggressive nature of the type of cancer I had, the surgery needed to happen sooner rather than later. So from 1st ultrasound to surgery was about six months.

As I shared in my blog last month, I'm not brave or strong; I'm just trying to survive. Literally and figurately. My grief and anxiety were multiplied by other factors as the passing of my mom brought with it loads of different unprocessed feelings. So this week brings back that unbridled mixture of emotions and anxiety from a year ago that my brain did not have a chance to process.

I recently started reading a book called Try Softer, and this book talks about the mantra of "Try Harder." For most, we've found that trying harder doesn't always bring the desired outcome we want. After trying harder, we still come up empty and anxiety-filled. So in the book, the author shares to try softer. Be gentle with yourself. Listen to your body because your body holds the pain, the anxiety, and the trauma. Talk to your body and let it help you find your way back to health and healing. I'm just beginning, but I desire to take on the banner of "Try Softer," and with that, I'm asking the Lord to help me get there.

https://www.amazon.com/Try-Softer-Approach-Mode-Connection/dp/1496439651

"You need to pull your mask up!" "Oh yeah, let's discuss your diagnosis."

Our family is just a few short weeks from the 4th anniversary of Evan's accident and many other anniversaries that seem to come each year. I've spent a good part of 2020 writing and capturing stories for my work, and with that, much of my grief journey has been done in the background. Busyness has taken the place of sharing my deepest thoughts, and so after so much silence, I thought I'd share what the last few months have looked like. Although I do not know what the future holds for me, I know the One who holds that future, and I continue to trust Him as I stand leaning against a wall for support and taking baby steps towards the next moments.

This has not been an easy season. It has held anxiety, uncertainty, loneliness, and LOVE. I've really had to learn such a hard truth about how much I'm able to carry, and I've come to understand that it's a lot. To be clearer, a lot for me. This is not about comparing as we all have our own stuff, and I've learned about grief; each personal journey is unique, and we chose how that is measured. Throw in this mix a world health crisis and other variables, and well, you get my point. What I’m about to share is polarizing. I’m unsure of any subject right now that isn’t, but most people like me aren’t really saying much. So I will say this is my personal experience.

In early spring, I had health issues that I thought were due to stress and other things. I chatted with my doctor, and she said if this continues, you really need to be seen. Well, it did continue, and if you've had any health issues during this crisis, the health crisis has taken over any thought about "other" health issues. Every appointment took 30 days to attain cause of COVID. After nearly 6 months of different appointments, it was confirmed that I have cancer. Yes, cancer, which in my opinion, is a health crisis for me. For anyone reading this who is thinking of wearing the mask for others...be about others, I'm wondering what your feeling is about people who are having true health issues that aren't COVID. I'm finding that MANY have strong opinions about masks but aren't advocating as much for those experiencing health crises that aren't COVID related. This has been especially eye-opening for me. Even my experience with a medical professional who was going to do my surgery, who was more concerned about how high up the bridge of my nose, my mask was than my diagnosis. Please spare me the essential worker lecture. I get it. They are exposed daily. Goodness knows that everyone based on ALL of the data is exposed daily. But my anxiety is not eased when you lecture me more about COVID exposure and give my diagnosis less time or understanding, along with the lack of compassion and care. In this, we have lost our way. We will suffer the consequences of this lack of compassion, trust me, and the mask will be the least of our worries as a society and a nation.

Today I am nearly one-week post-op. The first few days were hard, but I'm feeling stronger, and although I'm unsure of any of the pathology, I will continue to trust the team of doctors who have cared for me during this time and, ultimately, the Great Physician, Jesus. I want to acknowledge the care given to me at Sutter Health at Mission Bernal Ambulatory Surgery in SF, my oncologist, Dixon Family Medicine, Burlingame Women's health for your care over me. Thank you for arranging appointments, finding places for blood draws, and CT Scans. I want to thank my family and friends for being with me through this crazy time. Your texts, flowers, food, and Peet's have been such a blessing. I also want to thank my husband and son, who especially saw this challenging when they had to leave me at the surgery center's front door and not be with me during any of my appointments or my surgery. Just another aspect of COVID that is invisible to the public when other health issues arise.