Steady On: Fast and Furious vs Slow and Stubborn

I had this conversation with a friend last night pertaining to waiting. I flippantly replied, ‘yeah, with all my experience waiting you’d think I’d be an expert. I must be a slow learner.’ The friend’s reply? ‘Oh no Vanessa! You have it all together – slow isn’t an accurate descriptor for you at all.’ Can you believe how well she knows me? Wait, sorry…. I had my feel-good filter on. Reality check – here’s actually how well this friend know me.

Me: ‘…with all my experience…blah, blah, blah…. I must be a slow learn.”

Friend: ‘Yeah. Or stubborn.’

Slow or stubborn. I’m not sure which moniker is more attractive, but regardless, I’ve been presented with an opportunity to once again wait (and maybe disprove these descriptors).

I don’t receive too many verbal threats – Oh, I’ve dealt with a few school-yard bullies in my day, but usually they did more pinching and shoving than talking – but they did make an impression (that munchkin-shaped dent in locker 214…) Overall, I’m pretty adept at ducking conflict. But there is one verbal threat in particular that leaves me shaking in my shoes. I was teasing a friend earlier this month when they doubled down and hurled the following verbal assault my way – “I’m going to ask God to give you….PATIENCE.”

*Full body quiver* Oh heavens to Betsey and Lord have mercy – what did I ever do to you?! Think I’m overreacting? I think not. But just in case, I’ll pray you’ll have patience with my dramatics.

I last prayed for patience in 2011. I’m certain of the year, because I had a full on melt-down that only a toddler deprived of their heart’s desire can rival. I remember feeling quite certain that God was highly overestimating my ability to rise to the challenge. I’ve learned my lesson… Now - I’m not claiming to have a firm grasp on this particular virtue, but I don’t want to be greedy. ;P

Amazon Prime 2-day shipping - *whine* why must it take so long – that’s FORRRRRREVVVVVVER! *pout, stomp sigh*….*Click - Expedited shipping*

Where, oh, where am I going with this whiney prelude? Good question.

Without praying for it, God is giving me, yet another opportunity to display patience. I say display, because He doesn’t just hand out the patience of Job (at least not in my experience). Instead He allows us opportunities and life experiences in which to exhibit such virtues. I imagine there was some character molding and patience gathering in the time between the first and last chapter in Job. What’s that saying? Experience is the best teacher? Truth. *Sigh*

I met with my Nephrologist and Oncologist within the last week to review my scans and biopsies. Overall, they were encouraging and the visits were positive. My PET scan and bone marrow biopsies were negative – indicating no spread of the PTLD from it’s point of origin. THANK YOU JESUS! What a remarkable answer to prayer and gift from God! With the lymphoma cells localized my doctors have recommended conservative treatment measures at this point. With alterations in my medication regimen and level of immune suppression the specialists hope to delay or avoid chemo altogether. I’ll maintain this treatment regimen with frequent lab checks and retest in 4-6 weeks to see if there’s been any change in the PTLD site. Further treatment will depend on those results – more waiting or more targeted treatment.

All-in-all this is good news. Tremendous news really – I can revel in hairy legs (further evidence to my single status?! What?;P) and chemo free days for the present. And yet, while I rejoice in the gift of good news and a block of doctor-free days on my calendar, I feel a let-down of sorts. This let-down has everything to do with the frustration of more questions. One of my specialists told me in no uncertain terms that finding this lymphoma was a ‘fluke’, because all of the symptoms and pain I’ve been experiencing are unrelated to the PTLD. Say what? This means that while I have some answers, I also have more fact-finding in my future. It also means that I must, once again, wait. Wait – that’s a terrible four-letter word isn’t it?

A friend of mine hit straight to the heart of my frustration. ‘You’d rather be doing something.’ Ah, what is it with my friends knowing me so well? He read me like a book. I want to be rid of this diagnosis. I want to click on expedite and forgo the wait.

‘Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.’ Romans 12:12

Joy is dandy – I’m a big fan of joy. Pretty stoked about hope and faithfulness is a quality I fully support. But there’s that pesky middle phrase… ‘[be] patient in affliction’? I’d be comfortable omitting the middle phrasing. And yet - *sigh* despite my slow and stubborn attributes I know the Lord’s timing is far better than my own. I want to run ahead, conquer and race away victorious (all without literally running, of course). But God is the ultimate exhibitor of patience – He doesn’t have to rush, because He sees the whole picture and is ALWAYS right on time.

Reminds me of this time when I was little. We had this go-cart on the farm that was missing an engine (or is that a motor…. It was missing it’s get-up and go). In order to drive it beyond its neutral positioning Dad would hook it behind the 3-wheeler and give us an amazing thrill ride! That summer day we had friends over. Dad was giving each of us kids rides, facilitating our inner-speedster, when the oldest of our bunch took his spot behind the wheel. Wow! He had swagger – no doubt he had it all figured out. As Dad headed towards the 3-wheeler he hollered back his reminder to have fun, but under no circumstances was he to try to pass Dad’s lead vehicle. It’s not too hard to guess what happened. After careening around the farm yard for a time, our suave speedster grew tired of following and during a fast turn he cranked his wheel to slingshot around the lead vehicle. He caught air, gained momentum and then the lead rope caught the tire – his visions of grandeur and disregard for the urgings to not race ahead of my father fast became an impressive pebble collection with a bum full of road rash.

I ached for this kid’s burned behind, but I also wondered at his foolish disregard of my Dad’s instruction. Ah, me. So often I am this eager beaver and speed-racer. Throwing caution and promptings to ‘wait’ to the wind so that I might do what I think is best. It’s momentarily satisfying, but the repercussions can be as long-lasting and painful as a debris-encrusted derriere.

I waited patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in Him.’ Psalm 40:1-3

Tomorrow’s Easter – no matter what seems big or significant in my life right now, my struggles pale in com* parison to the act of sacrificial love Christ showed each of us by taking all our guilt and shame upon His shoulders. Withstanding every torture and disgrace in my place. A friend said it best – ‘If Christ would do all that for me, how can I do less than serve Him in what I’m going through.’

So, here I wait. Joyful in hope, fervent in prayer and yes, even endeavoring to be patient in affliction. I want to be purposeful in this calm and willing to be used no matter the circumstances.  I don’t want to be speedy and get ahead of my Father's wise plans for my life, nor do I want to be a slow learner. With Christ’s help, I hope to steady on.

‘Even youths grow tired and young men stumble and fall, but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.’ Isaiah 40:30-31

Reflections and Reflective Surfaces

This last week has been a blur. What a hectic 10 days it’s been. You know, I’m really a low maintenance low key kind of gal (the low maintenance ship sailed many diagnoses ago). I enjoy staying busy and being with family and friends, but I’m perfectly content to hibernate for days at a time with just a good book, my laptop, internet and ice cream. I’ve been itching to jot down my thoughts and the events of the past week and a half,  but between appointments and sedation it’s only now I’ve had the time and clarity to do so. Better late than never I guess.

This last week the reality of how my PTLD diagnosis could potentially alter my coming weeks and months became clearer. Almost like when you cut yourself. There’s that momentary numbness right after the incident and right before the pain. Like two summers ago I decided I was up to the task of cutting a watermelon – with the new cleaver-style knife I’d gotten through Groupon. I whacked away at that melon with the finesse of a 3-year old trimming their hair – when, with one slip, my giant knife met my itty-bitty finger. Or when my food processor blade bit me. The initial blow stung, but it wasn’t until I pulled my hand away and misted my face red that the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach deepened, followed closely by the full impact of the injury and persistent pain. (The cleaver and I are still not on speaking terms, the food processor and I have since reconciled).

Processing this diagnosis and all the information that come with it feels like a similar progression, nowhere near as gruesome. I’ve had this blessed soul anesthesia – it’s allowed me to be clinical, reasonable (mostly – the carb-free day being an exception), and pragmatic. My Google search history is chalk-full of awesomeness – haircuts, unicorn hair color (much to my mom’s chagrin), wig research, lymphoma message boards, cancer articles, research abstracts, chemo and DPOA documents to name a few.

It’s my way of processing, my way to have my ducks in a row, plan, take control of what is a situation I have no control over. No – that’s wrong. I do have some control – in how I react to this new life adventure, how I choose to move forward with this diagnosis and treatment, how I choose to embrace the purpose God has for me and Whom I choose to trust. Oh, and whether or not to color my hair like an Easter egg ;P

I spent some time away early in the week with my mom for therapy – of the retail and laughter variety. Two days spent laughing and talking, shopping and eating.  I expected the time away to be a PTLD-free zone. No talk of lymphoma or treatment – only fun and frivolity. I was right… and I was wrong. It was fun, but lymphoma doesn’t take vacations and the topic was never far from my mind. Talks about lymphoma and treatment possibilities made their way into our conversations. It’s hard not to – and I’m glad it did, because it gave us a chance to explore the hypothetical, possible and probable in candid conversation in a safe space…. with the aid of cheesecake. ‘(Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down…. ‘)

Reality bit, err, hit¸ upon my return home with Wednesday’s bone marrow biopsy. I’d heard multiple accounts of how dreadful the procedure was – and I was looking forward to having it behind me (which is exactly where it was done). ;) I can think of other ways I’d prefer to spend my time, but really, it wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated. The IV sticks were the worst part pre-procedurally. That and the early morning scavenger hunt they sent me on upon arrival.  They gave me a cup and asked me to fill it with some vague mention of a hallway, a wood floor and to my right. To be fair, it was early and I wasn’t caffeinated. I’m pretty resourceful –  but after wandering down two dark corridors and finding no water spigot I decided the hunt was too exhilarating to keep to myself and recruited help in finding that elusive room to the right with a wood floor (I never did find the water fountain, but somehow I filled my cup). But I digress – bottom line.  Praise the Lord for His peace and comfort and for anesthesia’s sedation - the procedure wasn’t as bad as I anticipated! I guess I should have been better prepared, the nurse I talked to told me I should expect to feel like I’d run into a sharp object with my hip. I’ve had years of practice bumping into things ;) It wasn’t so bad, I don’t have any powerful urges to make a repeat performance, but it’s been very tolerable. I’ve been rocking pants with elastic waistbands and a week later I’m still sitting a little more carefully and conscious of some derriere discomfort , but otherwise I’m no worse for wear.

What really stands out to me about that day was hearing my nurse’s take on my situation. While she fished for a viable IV site and I recounted my health history – apologizing for being a difficult stick her comment was ‘it’s understandable – you’re one sick young lady’. Strange. In a day of multiple IV sticks and bone marrow ‘core sampling’ that’s what really stung.

I spent Thursday afternoon hair shopping. Yep, hair shopping. Chemo seemed to be a real possibility based on the conversation with my oncologist two weeks ago and I wanted to be prepared. For anyone that knows me well or has ever met Gertie you’d expect a room full of wigs to be akin to a kid in a candy shop (or for that matter, me in a candy store). It was an impressive array of hair. No matter how I hyped it or the enthusiastic responses to the different do’s I tried I couldn’t shake the reality – I wasn’t picking a style for a new flamboyant character to introduce at church. That’s fun – the outlandish allows me to say and do things with the safety of a pseudonym. I mean, shucks! Gertie sees every man that’s upright and breathing as a potential dating possibility – she makes Farmer’s Only.com look likes child’s play. I on the other hand….  My doctor described me as being one of the ‘unlucky’ few to never have had EBV, better known as kissing disease – Need I say more?

After finding suitable hair and headwear I spent the car ride home comforting myself with the Brightside of proposed hair loss. This is what I’ve come up with so far:

1.       I love hats

2.       Big fan of scarves

3.       Everybody loves Mr/Mrs Potato Head and they rock their look sans hair

4.       I could save a bundle on waxing

5.       My eyebrows could reflect my mood or artistic flair any given day

6.       I could change my hair on a regular basis

7.       No more bedhead

8.       It would be cooler for Spring/Summer

9.       Save a bundle on hair products and hair styling time

AND finally….

10.   I can bring my legs out of hibernation – they’ll be beach ready at all times

I almost had myself convinced. But to be honest, it was the first time I really had to fight tears.  I may have waged a love/hate relationship with my curls for the last 29+ years (I rocked the cue ball look my first 3 years of life), but the possibility of losing it has given me a new appreciation for my hair.

Like one friend pointed out – hair loss related to chemo makes your illness evident to the world around you. It’s true – I’ve spent years trying to seem as normal as possible in regards to my vision. So much so, that when I was still able to work, some of my co-workers were unaware of my low vision – asking me to decipher Physician’s handwriting for them. It was a point of pride for me. As long as no one knows I’m ‘sick’ than I’m really not. Maybe that’s as naïve as thinking if I can’t see you, then you can’t see me. ;P There’s a certain vulnerability to displaying our weaknesses – It’s humbling.

Maybe that’s why I relate so very much to Paul when he writes in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10,

But He [Christ] 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 about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. ¹⁰ That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. ‘

Maybe my diagnosis will be evident this summer, maybe it won’t. But I do know that God is writing the story of my life and I want my life to reflect the hand He has in it – Whether that includes bed head and bad hair days or silky smooth legs and a bald head (just one more reflective surface).

Holding on to my humor,

Vanessa ❤

Spring is coming: Splendor of the Storm

We’ve had a lot of rain lately – last week on my way to my PET scan I passed the river. It was high in its banks and flowing strong and steady. In some places, where the water rushed about a rock these raging swirls of water spun topsy-turvy. It was a sight to behold – beautiful, wild and yet somehow peaceful. I feel like my life is a little like that river. I feel like the rock – water raging and swelling about, distorting my equilibrium in those frantic whirlpools - Stormy seas. But there’s splendor amongst the soggy. Those roaring waters refresh, replenish and renew - they rid the river of stagnancy and the rocks of their rough edges.  My Savior is the anchor I cling to to keep from drowning. He is the river banks keeping me safe within His embrace. I don’t love the turmoil of a storm, but oh, how I love the new life that springs forth when the sun comes out. (Cue ‘The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow’)

I absolutely love the song – In the Eye of the Storm by Ryan Stevenson. It has phrases that feel very timely and personal:

“In the eye of the storm, You remain in control
In the middle of the war, You guard my soul
You alone are the anchor, when my sails are torn
Your love surrounds me in the eye of the storm

When my hopes and dreams are far from me, and I'm runnin' out of faith
I see the future I picture slowly fade away
And when the tears of pain and heartache are falling down my face
I find my peace in Jesus' name.”

Maybe you’re in the midst of a stormy season – my story is unique to me, but struggles aren’t. Maybe you’ve emerged on the other side of the storm and you’re basking in the sun. Maybe you’re coasting on still waters or maybe, your stream’s run dry. Wherever you find yourself, may I encourage you to look to the giver of all good things – the Living Water and Strong Anchor. Christ Jesus is the only reason I have a semblance of sanity – I’ve heard people ‘marvel’ at my strength and maturity. That’s all Christ folks – left to my own devices – when the storm hits I’m bound to adopt a wet-cat way of thinking. Whiny self-pity, disheveled, angry and annoyed. Not a pretty picture!

Knowing Christ doesn’t take away the storms, but with Him as my anchor, I know I have HOPE! I have security in tumultuous times and I can trust that He will smooth my rough edges and use the hurricane season for my good, His glory and a remarkable Spring season to come! And if He would do that for me - a semi-reformed wet-cat. He'd do it for you!

With love & prayers that you might find rest in the loving embrace of Christ whatever season you're in! - Vanessa