Gluten Video Challenge III

I hope this is the last time I purposefully ingest gluten.  This week isn't as bad as the week before, but it's definitely not something I can label as "fun."

My acupuncturist wants me to hold off on gluten now to get a better assessment of my body.  Yay.  Praise God no more gluten for this upcoming week!  I am soooooooo thankful.  Instead, I get to boil herbs for a Chinese medicine drink twice a day.  *shudder*  At least, this time isn't as bitter.

Thank you, Father God, that even though my tumors are still present, eating still leads to pain... that in the midst of all the struggles and the unknown, you continue to provide.  Thank you for times with no pain.  Thank you for distracting activities.  Thank you for wonderful family and friends who keep me occupied.  Lord, you provide so abundantly that I truly lack nothing.  Thank you for providing Noel by my side to soothe me, cater to my whims, serve me food while I flop in bed.  Lord, you are good.  In you, I am satisfied.  Thank you for this life I get to live.

In Jesus' name I raise my voice in praise, amen.

Here's my video from Tuesday, September 22, 2015;
(https://youtu.be/xYwq5slgKGY)

Living for my Reward

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Today's the day I find out what options I have.  I'm sitting in the treatment room nervously twiddling my thumbs and swinging my feet as I wait for my cancer doctor.  In walks my physician's assistant holding a small sheaf of papers.  Holding out his right hand, he offers me the printed CT scan results.  

"Kristy, I assume you already read the results?"

"Yup.  I know my cancer is worse and the tumors are significantly larger.  No more Eribulin for my chemotherapy treatment."

"Yes.  As of now, all we have to offer you is either palliative care or application to clinical trials.  First, palliative care is not hospice; it is access to an interdisciplinary team of medical staff who can assist you with relief from the cancer symptoms so that you can maximize your quality of life.  Second, know that since you have tried 7 types of chemotherapy and none have worked, any clinical trial you participate in will likely have less than 5% chance of shrinking your tumors.  Those who choose to receive experimental treatments outside of their geographical area temporarily move to the clinical trial host site.  Are you willing to travel?"

Instantly, my mind flashes me a picture of living elsewhere: no family support, no friends to drop by, can't eat restaurant food, trying to grocery shop and cook while on chemo, stress of an unfamiliar location, additional living costs... the list goes on and on.  The instability of my body makes me scoff at the very idea of trying to travel long distance.  "Nope.  Can't to do it.  There's no way I'm willing or able to travel for clinical trials.  Traveling from Milpitas to Stanford Hospital already pushes my limits when I'm tired.  Living elsewhere, I don't believe I can manage my needs away from home."

The door closes softly as the physician's assistant steps out to speak to my cancer doctor.  I snuggle my head against Noel's neck.  Tears leak from my eyes.  Why am I crying?  The conversation went exactly as I expected.  My options?  Limited.  I furtively inch my right hand under my right cheek in an attempt to wipe away the moisture dripping down my face.  Doesn't work.  Noel's shirt is already damp.  Clenching my teeth, I endeavor to speak in a cheerful tone, "Noel, whatcha think?"  Tilting my chin up, I glance into Noel's eyes.  He's crying too.

Deep breath in... Dang it!  I didn't want to cry.  Now my tears are just coming faster.  Noel wraps his arm around me tight.  I can feel my head getting wet.  I'm sure Noel's shirt is damp too.  Together, we silently comfort each other.

Time passes.  

Shoot, the doctor will come in any moment!  Yanking tissue from the box on the table, I hand Noel some tissue, then stuff the rest against my face.  It's miraculous that not wanting someone else to see me cry can stop my tears just like that.  *sheepish grin* Making my face presentable, I lean my right shoulder heavily into Noel's left shoulder.  My hand creeps in to tightly clasp Noel's hand.  We wait.

My cancer doctor sweeps into the room with the physician's assistant quietly following.  Getting right to the point, my doctor states, "There's a clinical trial you can apply for.  It's a phase I trial combining a chemotherapy drug and another drug targeted to stop blood vessel formation.  I'm hoping that this will shrink your tumors.  Do you want to try it?"

Honestly?  No.  I'm tired of chemotherapy failing and leaving my body weaker.  I'm tired of getting my body broken over and over again while my cancer continues to run rampant.  Since April of 2007, I've gone through 3 abdominal surgeries.  From January 2012, I started my first round of chemotherapy and have failed every single one.  Now in August 2015, all that's left for me in the medical field is the proud opportunity to be a guinea pig through uncharted experimental drugs.  Lovely.

Taking a deep breath, I reply, "Sure, let's do this.  I'll sign the papers today."

Ah, Father God, Jesus Christ, Holy Spirit... help me!  I so don't want to do anymore chemotherapy.  I'm tired of breaking, getting weaker, increasing my dependence on all those around me.  Lord, I honestly don't care if I die.  Death means rest from pain, the dysfunctions of my body, and I believe that I'll get to be with you.  There's nothing wrong with that right?

Yeah, I know it's not yet time to leave this earth or else I'd already be gone.  *wide grin*  I'm not waiting to die.  I refuse to sit back and let my life, however long or short, slip by.  But I'm tired.  Cancer may limit my activities, my abilities, my energy; but Lord, don't let hopelessness or despair ever crush my spirt.

This is my battle cry.  This is my declaration of intent to fight.

I will fight with every fiber of my being to live and live well.  But what does it mean to live?  For me, living is not just an existence where I eat, breathe, sleep, play.  No.  Living requires purpose, a goal, direction.

Lord God, I made serving you, loving you, emulating you as my first priority in this life.  Because this life is yours, I am willing to walk through any path you call me to live so that in this life, you are truly Lord.  I will continue to trust you with the journey of my medical care.  My acupuncturist believes that this body you've given me is strong.  He says not to do chemotherapy because the poisons weaken my body and allow the cancer cells to replicate faster.  I believe him; I see my tumors rapidly increase in size the weaker my body gets.  Lord, I continue to choose any chemotherapy experiment that comes my way knowing that if you don't call me to walk that path, one way or another, you will cancel or invalidate my application. 

I surrender to your will so that you alone will shine as first in all choices.  I will live until you choose to call me to rest.  I will not surrender to my own wants, but will struggle and fight because you are my everything.  Lord, you are the love of my life. In you, I have complete trust in your goodness.  I blindly follow whatever path you call me to walk so that I can personally know you more.  You are my Father in heaven who hurts when I hurt, loves me unconditionally, shapes me so that I can grow ever closer to you... I will not waste this life to satisfy my own desires unless I can match it to yours.  Help me, Lord, live this life so completely for you that all the pain and affliction means nothing compared to being with you... For, God, you are my reward in this life and the next.

In Jesus' name I pray, amen.  

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Praise God!  My application to the chemotherapy experiment is canceled due to the drug containing gluten and alcohol which gives me severe allergic reactions.  Yay!!!  Until my doctor can find another experimental drug appropriate for my type of cancer, I am free to get stronger, to recover from years of infusing poison into my system, and wait to see what God chooses to do with my fast-growing tumors.

God, please stabilize my body and heal me like no one else can.  In Jesus' name I pray, amen. 

Saw this octopus tree with a knitted body in San Mateo:

(un)CERTAINTY

Monday, June 22, 2015

My feet drag as I walk into the doctor's office.  Plopping into a chair, I wait with Noel supportively by my side.  

I'm scared.  Today's another chemo day.  

Last chemo sent me to the hospital for two days with fever, a high resting heart rate and an even higher moving heart rate up to the 150s.  I don't want to deal with the chemo again!  Can I just stop?

I know God will guide the doctors in regards to my treatment.  I know God is all-powerful and if he wanted me to get chemo, I can physically crash the entire week and still be strong enough to participate in the Summer Church Paintball Event this Saturday?  Or God can let me have chemo and get no symptoms at all.  Even better, how about no chemo?  God can do anything.  But for me, will I have to go through another week of misery?

I'm tired.  Part of me is breaking inside.  How much more?

Father God, I don't know what you have planned for me.  I'm clueless as to which direction you're guiding my care.  Lord, I know that in you, anything is possible.  Please give me peace as I follow your will.  Give me comfort as I choose to serve you.  Give me a heart to accept the doctor's judgement as I know their decisions are under your will.  Give me the heart not to argue, not to push my will, but allow you to be in complete control.

In Jesus' name I pray, amen. 

The doctor comes in.  She sits down.  I know what she's going to say; there's a certain look.  Is that pity I see?

"Kristy, you will get chemo today.  To counter the alcohol allergy, we'll give you Benedryl and a steroid called Dexamethasone.  Any questions?"

Inside, my heart drops.  I feel myself starting to crumble.  What can I say?  I told God that I'll let him lead the doctor's decision.

But really God?  

Again?  

No break?

*deep sigh*  

My limbs have no strength.  Here I go, another round.  God, you call it.  You promised me I can play with the kids at the Summer Paintball Event.  I don't know how, but I know that in you, anything is possible. I will trust in your faithfulness.  I dread my future, but to walk with you is better than me walking my own path.  I commit to submitting to your will... But God, you know I'm really hating this chemo right?

Noel and I sit for two hours, waiting for my scheduled chemotherapy session.  I flop in my chair; my small black backpack supports my head, my legs drape over the opposing armrest.  At least this is comfy!  The sun beats down, I'm starting to sweat.  Okay, maybe a little too warm here.

Just as I prepare to move, a nurse calls out my name: "Kristy Cheng Esporo?"

"Here."  I wave my hand to get her attention.

"Are you waiting for your port to be de-accessed?  You know that your chemotherapy was canceled right?"

What?!?  "My port wasn't accessed this morning, we were just waiting for the chemo."

Three minutes later, my phone rings.  The PA (physician's assistant) is on the phone.  "Hi Kristy?  You know that your chemo is canceled right?  Your morning's blood test shows that your ANC (absolute neutrophil count) is 0.5, too low for us to give you any chemotherapy treatments.  Go home today and take the Neulasta injection to raise your white blood cell levels and we will see you in two weeks for chemotherapy."

Hanging up, I give Noel a huge smile and a thumbs-up.  My heart leaps for joy.  Sweet, no chemo today!  

Thank you, God!  You totally waited to the absolute last moment before notifying me of the cancelation of my treatment.  Not waiting would've been nice, but I'm totally fine with this outcome!

Friday, June 26, 2015

Father God, even without chemo, this week, my strength is up and down.  There were times I felt stronger.  There were also many times my bones hurt, I can feel my heart pounding, my head gets dizzy, eyes loose focus, a sharp sensation shoots from my shoulders to my hips where my muscles almost collapse in pain.  Father, I don't know what's going on with my body, but give me the energy, strength, focus, and spirit to serve those around me with a positive and loving attitude; no holds barred.  

May we as a paintball group be a blessing to all we interact with. Give us the heart to unconditionally serve, teach, love on each other.  I ask that your Spirit shine so bright all will know of your presence.  Bless the communication between all players, especially the captains and lieutenants, even the staff we come into contact with.  Guide the pacing.  Protect the children.  Keep us hydrated. Give us the wisdom to teach, the spirit to love, words to encourage, fellowship, joy, laughter, hope, and growth together as a community.

In Jesus' name, I continue to pray big for this event and expect to see you come through in amazing, wonderful, and totally unexpected ways!  

Now let's PLAY!  <3

Noel and Kristy at Stanford right after getting notified NO chemo!!!

Noel and Kevin preparing pods to paint:

Stuck at Stanford Hospital

Wednesday, May 27, 2015: Stanford for scheduled blood draw

Just wanted to let you all know that the docs admitted me at Stanford today because they were worried about my low red blood cell level, high fevers (103F), potential GI bleed, and even considered abdominal surgery. 

The surgeon who checked on me today was the same one who helped perform my last abdominal surgery in 2013.  He totally remembered me and even got a little emotional seeing me back in... but he was able to pass on the message that I'm physically very capable and strong so the staff gives me more leeway.  Praise Jesus for providing not-so-random meetings!

Surgeon's verdict: no huge abdominal surgery right this minute.  Why?  The bad news is because surgical removal of my masses will result in so much resection of my intestines that I'll end up with multiple poopy bags!😱 So surgery is last resort even though my masses almost doubled again since 6 weeks ago (5x5 for the largest mass).  

I'm being well protected by God in Stanford with my crazy allergies, especially my unique sensitivity to alcohol (not the alcohol itself that can evaporate, but something linked with it?).  Every lab draw and every IV line switch that requires cleaning is dangerous for me. So far not a single accident has occurred.  For me, this is a miracle in and of itself!  Nowadays, everything has alcohol: cleaning pads, hand wipes, IV line green caps (Curos caps), surface wipes, and even hidden within medications.  Each step of the way, God has and is continuing to prevent any alcohol from contacting my body.  Yay!!!

I'm here, stuck in Stanford, for 5 days now.  I now have a drain hanging out the right side of my abdomen with a little plastic bulb to create negative pressure to suction out the fluid.  It's pretty neat!  I've learned that if my abdomen hurts, I request my drain be flushed with saline (probably reduces the bacteria) and all the pain goes away without additional medications.

I'm on Zosyn, IV antibiotic, but my fevers continue.  The doctors added IV Vancomycin which resulted in my face flushing hot red and my chest getting itchy.  First dose stopped, but pharmacy thought the reaction was from pushing the medication too quickly.  Second trial of  Vancomycin given at a slower rate resulted in difficulty breathing, my entire face and chest itching, face burning and fire behind my eyes... 50mg Benedryl later as my symptoms start calming down, I'm told that the night doctor wants me to continue with Vancomycin and more Benedryl.

What?!?!

"No."  I will NOT take anymore Vancomycin.  This is ridiculous!  Out of all the antibiotics out there, there's gotta be other options that won't knock me down.  25mg Benedryl makes me cross-eyed.  Even more Benedryl and fighting allergy symptoms is not my idea of a beneficial healing process!

I know the doctors are trying to protect me.  With the Zosyn alone, my fevers got so high it resulted in rigors, severe uncontrollable shivering with me feeling super cold.  Each time, I fought to control my breathing, protect my tongue away from my teeth and minimize the convulsive spasming.  A great workout.  After 45 minutes of shaking: my muscles ache, my hands tremor with fatigue, and back hurts.  Kind of weird.  My body is only a fraction under my voluntary control, I'm trapped inside my head, but at least I can gasp out single-syllable replies.  Not my most looked for activity of the day, week, or ever again in my life!

Thank you God that the daytime doctors agreed with my decision to not continue Vancomycin!  Thank you, Lord, for  providing another antibiotic, Zyvox, that my body is easily tolerating.  Thank you for taking away the crazy sweat-dripping fevers, the severe fatigue, the pounding headaches, my uncontrollable muscle spasms, my inability to breath deeply, my mist-clouded mind, my gut-wrenching pain that would immobilize me and so much more.

Thank you God for helping the doctors find the seropurulent abscess hidden amongst my tumors.  Thank you that the medical staff cares enough not to take my allergies for granted.  Thank you that when my body spasmed out of control, you provided people nearby to help when I couldn't call out for help or hit the nursing call button.  Thank you for the favor you've given me in the sight of all the staff and doctors. Thank you for helping me be able to bless others even when I don't feel well.  Thank you for your Spirit in me that enables me to smile, be patient and love on others even when everything seems to fall apart.  Thank you for getting me through 3 days of not eating without biting someone's head off (I really hate being hungry)!

Heheheheee...God's blessing me everywhere I go so I'm spoiled by lots of nice ppl. Yay!!! Praise the Lord!

These past couple of days, I'm learning again and again to trust in God for my health, my attitude, my emotional status, my physical capabilities, my allergies.... trusting that even when things go very wrong, nothing is out of God's control.  Everything that scares me being in a hospital: minimal choices, limited option, restrictions, lack of privacy, living with a noisey roommate, the service I receive, the food I eat... I can control none of it and the lack of control freaks me out!

Please pray that my heart stays soft and receptive to MD orders instead of me being stubborn thinking "I know how this should be" or "I want this."  Pray that God will use me as a light in the hospital so much his Spirit shines undeniably by my actions, words, attitude and "the God factor!"

Love you all lots!

K

Choices: 1st round of chemotherapy

Hot air rushes past dry crackling lips.  I desperately attempt to fill my lungs with fresh air.  Sucking.  Chest expanding.  It's no use.  Nothing changes.  I lay in bed, panting, trying to get air, but can't seem to slow down my breathing enough to take a deep breath.  Heart pounding, I can feel the blood pulsing through my limbs.  I take a quick assessment of my body: hot, probably fever; twitch my fingers, maybe the smallest movement only noticeable to me; open my eyes, just enough to glimpse a sliver of light.  What happened to all my motor functions?

*click*

I hear the front door.  Yay, Noel's parents are here!  Excited, I attempt to call out a greeting.  Nothing.  Soundless, my lips barely move.  Air flows quickly, but no sound comes out.  I try again.  Failure.

What should I do?  I'm all here in my head, but my body doesn't obey my commands.  I have no sense of time.  I'm unable to move, to speak.  Interesting ideas are coming to mind about how to draw attention: throwing my seal plushie down the stairs, knocking over my water bottle... Yeah, if only I can move.

*rumble*
               *squeak*

Ah, Noel's home!  Anticipating him checking in on me, I prepare to go all out and catch his attention!  Air hisses out my throat, but no recognizable sounds.  Furiously I attempt to roll out of bed... my foot moves one inch, maybe less.  My hand, a slight vibration through the bed, but no sound.  Panting, I lay, still in the same position I've been in all day.

Helpless I lay trapped under heavy comforters.  I listen to Noel greet his parents, go back outside to clean his paintball gear, then come back inside.  *clink*  I hear metal utensils clanking on the food bowl... Noel's probably eating.

Hello... I try to call out.  But again, I can only produce the same panting breath as before.

I don't know how much time has past until I feel a slight vibration through the bed.  Is that steps on the stairs?  Noel?  I hear a person creep silently to my side, probably trying not to wake me.

Look!  I'm awake!  Look harder!

Hot air continues to flow in quick bursts between my lip.  I still don't have control.  In frustration, I feel burning tears slide down my face.

"Why are you crying?"

I try to answer, but nothing comes out.  I feel my tears flow faster.

A rough and cool finger wipes away my tears; first my right eye, then my left.  New tears flow out.  I think my pillow is starting to get wet.  This is embarrassing.

I feel my body pulled partially upright.  I'm dead weight, I can't move a single muscle to help.  A wet spoon touches my lips and pours soup into my mouth.  I attempt to swallow and choke instead.  After a couple more failed attempts with the spoon, I mouth "straw."  Straw in hand, Noel holds my head up.  I still choke three or four times, but at least the fluid is going down the right tube.

Noel cradles my head.  I'm finally able to open my eyes.  Gently, he brushes his face near mine, "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry."  I didn't mean to.  I didn't feel good, I hurt, got really hungry and then I couldn't move at all.  I'm scared too... I've never been trapped alert in my body before.  It sucks.


Father God, I don't remember much of these past couple days, but I acknowledge everything is in your control.  Thank you for providing Noel the ability to work at home when I  first needed care.  Thank you that Noel's parents are willingly staying over these past couple of days to cook, clean, check up on me, literally feed me, carry my to and from the house to the car for my acupuncture appointment, feed the cats... So much, Lord God, am I blessed by your provision when I can do absolutely nothing on my own.

Fevers rage. Pain immobilizes me.  Strength is nonexistent.  Air, a difficult to acquire commodity.  I lay in bed; tossing in discomfort when I can, freezing in pain or sometimes writhing to find a more comfortable position.  I pant for air and claw at the bed.  My mind is glazed, time flows on.

Every day is a battle.  Do I choose to follow my doctor's advice and continue injecting the Neupogen that's supposed to protect me but also causes fevers in the 102+ range, uncontrolled by Tylenol and requires me to constantly take Benedryl to ward off my allergic reactions?  Just one more day.  Keep going.  Can I eat enough to maintain my weight without getting nauseous?  I've lost 5 pounds now,  but I make sure that I eat every 1-2 hours I'm awake.  Exercise?  Forget it.  I'm lucky that I can even use the restroom without falling over.


Lord God, even in this time, I know that you're with me because you promised to be.  In you I trust; no more and no less.  Because I acknowledge you, Father God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit as sovereign Lord of my life and my household, I trust the stability of my health in your hands.  By choosing to follow doctor's orders, I am choosing to follow your lead.  As I send Noel off to serve in Bigfoot youth retreat, a huge part of me wants my husband by my side, but when it comes to serving you, may nothing... not my health nor personal wishes interfere.  So Lord, for these next 4 days and 3 nights, I entrust my husband, myself, Noel's parents all into your all-powerful hands.  May our attitudes and decisions bring you complete glory for we serve you first... beyond ourselves and even our families... to you and for you, Oh Lord, may you truly always come first.

In Jesus' name I pray, amen.



Here's a pic of my first chemo infusion of Dacarbazine... it's cold!

Now it Starts: Port Surgery

Am I ready?

Yes.  No.  I don’t know anymore.  Well, either way, I’m here at my workplace.  It’s 6:15am.  I’m starting the process by registering at admitting, then off I go to radiology for a port placement.  What’s that you ask?  The port is a small chamber placed in my chest with a small tube that goes around my collarbone, into my vein, and stops at the entrance of my heart.  Supposedly, this is for the purpose of quick easy access for chemotherapy, blood draws, etc.  *shrug*  Each step of the way, I have the option of saying “stop.”  Will I do so?  Probably not.

I like to push the limits of what’s considered “normal.”  In my head, choosing local anesthesia is scary because I’ll be awake for the procedure, but I’m curious.  I _like_ to know what’s going on around me.  I like the concept that I can jump off the surgery table right after the procedure and go to work right away.  I hate taking medications and I really dislike not having control.  Local anesthesia it will be!  This way, I also don’t have to go hungry.  This point is very important.  *wide grin*  Hey, don’t laugh!  For me, I really like to eat and I’m never comfortable going hungry. 

Sorry, I’m rambling.  Guess my nervousness is showing.  I’m in full control, but to lay on a table and let someone I don’t know cut into my skin… now that doesn’t seem sane to me.  *sigh*

I can feel my heart pounding.  My breath quickens as I anticipate the near future.   

Stop.   

Breathe in.  Hold.  

Breathe out.  Pause.   

Repeat. 

God, my life is in your hands.  Whatever happens, I leave to you.  If you choose to stop the placement of this port, please feel free to go ahead.  If you want to stop the infusion of chemotherapy meds, even at the last moment, I’d welcome that too! 

Father God, I know you have a plan for my life.  The reason I’m going through with this chemotherapy thing isn’t because I believe that it will cure me, but because I want to live the life you’ve set for me so that you will shine.  I don’t care if everything falls apart… well, I do care, but at the same time, you are more important than my life and so I want to choose a life that puts you on display. 

Father God, to your will, so be it.  My life, my future, my dreams are yours.  Please use me so that I can see more of you.

*prick*  Ah, in goes the IV.  *shrug*  I can feel the nurse fiddling with the line; I've seen this so many times already… anything else of interest to look at?  Glancing around, I feel a rushing ache in the upper back of my throat.  Alcohol?  Whipping my head around, I catch a glimpse of an open alcohol pad used to wipe the syringe just before connecting it to my IV line.  Yup, that was alcohol alright.  Good thing I planned ahead and took Benadryl first thing this morning.  Doesn't matter how many times I warn people, my alcohol allergy is so unusual that almost all cleaning processes use it in hospital settings.

Trickles of cold liquid run down my left neck, into my armpits, down my sides.  What's going on now?  Rolling my head to the left, I watch as a staff member runs a cold swab dripping with betadine to circle my left chest, once, twice, three times over. Ewwww, this feels gross!  The lady directs me to turn my head to the right and keep it there.  Cold and wet, the substance is used to coat my neck as well.  *shudder*  Cold fluid through the IV line and cold sticky fluid.... Ahhh, gotta stop thinking about the cold.  I just need to ignore the discomfort.  I hate being cold!  What else can I focus on?

"Close your eyes."

Huh?

Next thing I know, a large blue sterile sheet presses against my face.  Some paper jabs near my eye.  A rustle of paper, then I feel the sticky edges of the drape being pressed onto my left chest.  Cold, sticky, foam-padded… what?  Oh, the person is applying the drape, pulling it off my skin, then reapplying it; this process is repeated many times until the person decides the positioning is just right.  Ummm, normally not so bad when someone's sedated, but definitely not the type of care catered to someone who's awake and alert.   Does anyone realize how cold and how sticky and how painful just the set-up process can be?  Probably not.  I'm not even gonna bother focusing on the what it's going to be like when they remove the tape used to stretch out my skin.  *deep sigh*  Medical practices are practical, not comfortable.

I can't see anything but blue. Suddenly, bright light pours into my eyes as the drape is lifted off my face and tied up.  Ahhh, I can see the wall again.  Is that a slight reflection of the room against plastic panels?  Yup, I can see outlines of people moving around.  Cool!   Too bad I can't see the procedure.  *sniffle*

"This is the not fun part okay?  It's going to feel like you're getting pinched like this."  *sharp pinch*

Thanks for the warning… I think?

I feel the needle stab deep past my skin.  Lidocaine is injected.  The needle gets partially pulled back and stabbed in at different angles.  I guess it's getting numb... Somehow this round, I can still feel all the places the needle is inserted... I don't remember that being the case last time.  *shrug*  I'm not going to give them any reason to regret letting me stay awake!

A nurse comes up with her hands outstretched, "Do you want to hold my hand?"

"It's okay.  I'm fine.  Thanks."  I'm too busy clenching my right hand in a fist and keeping my left side relaxed.  Honestly,  I don't think I can relax enough to grab her hand. 

"Okay, now you should only feel some pressure.  No pain."

I feel the scalpel run across my chest.  Once.  Twice.  "Ummmmm, I can feel the scalpel."

"Really?  I gave you enough lidocaine that you shouldn’t feel this.  Okay, I'll inject some more."

Again, the sharp pinch as the needle dives deep into my tissue.  Still, I can feel the pressure of the fluid being injected into my body.  Once.  Twice.  Three times. I can feel the excess liquid trickling down the side of my chest.

"Okay, that should be enough to numb the area."

Again, I feel the scalpel run across my left chest.  This time, I decide not to say anything.  I can tolerate pain.  As the surgeon cuts deeper, I stop being able to feel the sharp edges of the scalpel.  Maybe the local anesthetic is finally working?  Whatever, it's better for me to stay quiet than to make comments.  If they really wanted to know how effective their treatments are on an alert person, they'd ask.

*stab* Ouch!  This is the part I hate most!!!  Strong pressure.  Choking sensation.  A hard lump-in-my-throat type feel.  Lovely.  A small guide wire followed by a flexible tube is probably being inserted into my vein with the end near my heart.

*yank*  Huh?  My whole body is being dragged up and down almost to the point where I'm starting to shift on the table top. What's going on?

"I need to break through the old scar tissue from your prior port’s scar to create a pocket for this new port."

Finally, all the rough motions settle down.  Yes, I'm almost done!  I can clearly feel the needle jabbing into my skin, the thread sliding with some resistance through my tissue.  Almost there!  My skin gets pinched closed while a gel-like material is applied... I think this must be the skin glue.  Even if I can't see, I can feel the small foam-like tip dabbing against my skin.  Steri-strip for extra protection, 2x2 gauze, large tegaderm.

Freedom! 

I'm so happy the procedure is done that when given permission to climb off the table, I skip the small step and hop down.  Almost prancing now that the ordeal is done, I look forward to changing clothes and returning to work!  YAY!

Father God, thank you for helping me make it through the procedure!  For me, the unknown can be scarier than pain; however, whatever happens, Lord, I know you are in complete control so I really have nothing to worry about.  Discomfort, pain... All that's temporary.  But you, oh Lord, are eternal.  Even if things go wrong, I believe that if you absolutely didn't want it to happen, it won't.  Lord, with you always by my side, I can be completely nonchalant.  I can push the limits knowing you'll warn me when I go too far.  Father God, in your presence, I have no deep worries.  Yes I am unsure of my future, but I am completely confident that you will step-in when I can't deal with things anymore.  In the meantime, I'll enjoy what I have and what I can still do.  I am self-assured, not in my abilities nor in my own power, but in yours.  I know that you are God eternal, promise-keeper, true to character and love me so much I get spoiled.  In you, regardless of circumstances, I have peace, joy and hope unending.

Thank you, God, for redeeming and using the bad stuff in my life for your glory.  Thank you that I can look forward because of your steadfastness so that I don't get trapped in the darkness of my upcoming chemotherapy.   

Trials.  Unknown future.  Test subject.  Lord, to you, I am none of these things.  In you, the fact I get to dwell in your presence is a given.  I am content.

Lord God, Jesus, Holy Spirit... Give me the strength to fix my eyes only on you.  Help me see the end-goal and not the temporary struggles of this life.  May my life, my choices, my words, my attitude be what it is because I have you carrying me forward.  Continue to bless me so I can see you in action!  Keep my heart from straying away from you.  In this lifetime, show me that just having you is truly enough.

In Jesus' name I pray, amen.

Please pray for my physical safety, strength, wisdom with managing symptoms, a good attitude, stability in my body...  stuff like that.  If God wills it, I start my clinical trial of chemotherapy tomorrow morning on May 13, 2015.

For following my blog, for reading my life story, for your wholehearted support, for your love and prayers... I know I am beyond blessed to have you walking with me through this life.  *Super big hug*  Thank you!  (^o^)/

Shaped Under Fire

What date should I set to start chemotherapy?  When's the latest I can delay the tests?  May? June?  Forever?

I'm scared. 

I don't know what I'll lose this round… maybe nothing, maybe everything. In chemotherapy, there are no guarantees except that foreign chemicals are placed into the body… and this time, it’s for a clinical trial. 

There are so many things I still want to do!  I want to participate in my friends’ wedding with no issues.  I want to play in a paintball tournament again.  I want to rockclimb.  I want to hang out with friends without limitations.  I want to host a paintball event.  I want the strength to finish projects!

*Deep sigh*

Stop!  

The purpose of my life isn't in my activities or my capabilities.  I thought I already made the decision to trust in God's provision?  To live the life he’s calling me to live so that his presence will shine… to do this, I can’t do things my way.  My wanting to delay chemotherapy may be the safer and more secure route, but living for God isn’t safe.  Where’s my faith and my trust in him unless I let him lead?

Knowing God, if he wants me to do paintball, participate in a wedding, work, rockclimb… I’ll be able to do it all; chemotherapy or no chemotherapy has absolutely no say in my future.

Lord Jesus, help me completely trust in you, your power, your abilities, your timing, your love for me.  Take away the hesitation that says I don't trust you.  Take away my fear because you are greater than all your creations combined.  Give me strength to do your will and not my own.  Focus my sights on the eternal future and not the temporal. 

Father God, as I once again place my life, my future treatments, my hopes and dreams into your hands... Show me that you are greater than everything and anything!  Set the test dates, doctor appts, schedules, chemotherapy, work... All these, Lord Jesus, I let go and place into your competent hands. 

Thank you, In Jesus' name I pray, amen. 

After I let go of insisting on doing things my way, all the pre-chemotherapy test dates fall easily into place; one after the other… no arguing, switching dates around, pushing to get the tests done closer together… it’s all set.  *Laughter *  Go figure… when I let God work, he does it all so easily.  There’s no way I can schedule all the tests, appointments, meetings, timing of every as well as it is now set. 

*shrug * Chemotherapy to start on May 13, 2015. 

I’m ready... I think.  *wide grin * I love a good challenge!

I’m excited to see how God will show himself.  I look forward to the physical and spiritual battles ahead knowing that the war is already won.  When I focus my eyes on my relationship with God, I am more than satisfied with this life, I love it!  Health, money, time, hobbies… none of these can replace the walk I have in Christ, the safety I have in his presence, the peace I have in his unbroken promises. 

My heart pounds with the unknown future, but I can joyfully state that I know God is in complete control; whatever happens or doesn’t happen, I get to see my amazing God in action, to personally experience his power, to undeniably feel his love.  What better life than to know the God of creation’s got my back?

See you all next time!

Love,

Kristy

Picture of my newest creation under hot flames and still not hot enough!  Eventually, I had to block the opening and use two torches... just barely got the metal hot enough to solder the silver.  =D

Always Looking Forward

Janurary 1, 2014

Wow... A brand new year.  Resolutions?  None, I never keep them. 

I'm stuck in the hospital for chemotherapy again.  Today's my third day... only one more day left here before I get to leave.  Hurray!!!  Because of my increased neuropathy, my oncologist decided to stop the most likely culprit, Ifosfamide, resulting in one less day in the hospital.  So happy!  Plus, this is my fourth round.  The doctor says one or two more rounds (I'm hoping for only one more... But I'm betting that if I look good and react well, it'll probably be upped to two more rounds of chemotherapy with Doxorubicin).

I've read so much manga that I'm bored.  I get bored easily huh?  Everyone tells me, "Get out of the room.  Go for a walk."  When I'm working as a physical therapist, I remember telling my patients the very same thing.  However, now being the patient, I feel very different.  Outside my room, it's cold.  Outside my room, when I exercise, I draw a lot of attention.  I don't see anyone else punching or kicking or stretching.  Funny, as a therapist working with my patients, I never cared what people around me thought.  Now as a patient with no one standing by my side, I feel shy.  I'll just stay in my room.

Hmmmmm, how best to amuse myself?  Stair steps?  Done.  Squats?  Done.  High knee march, single leg balance, stretch, punches with trunk rotation, high kicks... All done.  What else can I do to spice things up while staying in my room?  While pondering, I raise the head high on my hospital bed.  Flinging my legs up, I lay my head where most people have their feet.  Casually, I start pedaling my feet in the air, add in a couple crunches, toss in some more trunk twists to hit my obliques... still standard.  Boring.  What else can do that is new? 

Laying here with my feet up, I've already received 3 comments from different staff members concerning my position.  I don't like drawing attention, but I am also somewhat practical.  If I'm going to laze around, I want my position to be beneficial.  The better I manage or prevent any swelling in my legs, the less injury and stress to my system.  Gotta keep thinking long-term.  I'll deal with some comments and curiosity, it's still better than hanging outside my room!

Now... Fun new exercise... What to do.  With my leg still up, I lift my butt off the bed.  Okay, new style bridging technique!  Lifting my right leg up, I twist my trunk and touch my right foot to the left side of the bed.  Not bad.  Repeat with my left leg to my right.  Well, at least this requires more muscle control than walking.  Bleah... Walking in this hospital makes me feel like a hamster running on a wheel and going nowhere.  This is better.

Flipping myself onto my stomach, my legs are still higher than my head.  Bent backwards, yikes, a very effective abdominal and hip flexor stretch.  Pushing my arms straight, I perform a couple push-ups.  Nice.  The semi-soft bed, constantly changing the pressure beneath my palms, makes a simple push-up into an activity requiring balance.  Can I lift one arm up?  Naw, if I fall, I'll get everyone in trouble.  For today, not worth the risk.  =D

Father God, thank you so much that even while stuck in the hospital, I've earned the trust of the medical staff so I have more freedom.  I'm allowed to measure and empty my own urine.  I can take a shower without the staff hovering over my shoulders.  I no longer get comments like "Make sure you tell me when you get out if bed so I can help you."  *shudder*  I also don't get told anymore to go for a walk.  Instead, when I tell the staff that I don't need Lovenox injections since I'm very mobile, they just say "okay" instead of the the arguments I used to get.  Now, when I make a suggestion in regards to minimizing my intake of anti-nausea medications... even though I still got some odd looks and doubtful glances, I don't have to fight and do a lot of talking to convince the hospital staff. Yay!

Lord, I guess I thank you that the medical staff is adapting to my oddness.  I still hate feeling "trapped."  I really dislike all the background buzzing, beeps, light, and lack of privacy.  My current roommate moans quite a bit and calls me to call her nurse for her.  The inescapable hospital smell of fecal matter, cleaning scents and dry air drives me up the wall.  But even with all these annoyances... I can still count the many blessings and laugh.

So Lord, I ask that you turn my thoughts away from inescapable annoyances so I can seek out the blessings.  Help me forge ever forward... not to look at where I am; but instead, help me see where I'm going.  In Jesus' name I pray, amen. 

Happy New Year everyone!  May you be blessed with much laughter, the creation of awesome memories and peace when times get tough.  Know that there exists an almighty God who loves you beyond all earthly reason.  Through the love of Jesus Christ, be blessed with always looking forward with joy and hope and love.  Love ya! --Kristy

 This is me, legs up, writing my blog in the hospital bed:

 

Life's Journey with God

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Today, my nurse said, "I was reading your chart.  Wow, you've gone through a lot.  How do you stay so cheerful?"

How should I answer?  I don't have a quick easy answer except to say "God is good, really good."  Even a reply like this doesn't provide a full understanding of how God enables me to be cheerful.

My attitude and my personality alone didn't create this cheerfulness. Rather, I've struggled with so many ups and downs... been spun around with unexpected events occurring  so far out of the blue that I've heard many repetitions of the comment "this usually doesn't happen."  In truth, I'm cheerful and I take joy in seeing the blessings God brings into my life... but I can't say I'm "happy" about having cancer or living with so many unexpected struggles.

I'm learning to roll with the punches, to expect the unexpected. But most of all, I believe that my God has a purpose for my life.  I believe I have an all-powerful God guiding my life who can fully cure me of all my problems right now; however, I also believe in this verse from the Bible:

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to his [God's] purpose."  Romans 8:28 (New King James Version)

So for those, like me, who love God... what is this good thing we get?  This goodness is an advantage that benefits those who love God and specifically is linked with following God's purpose/calling.  This verse doesn't talk about getting good things like gifts just for the sake of acquiring more things... instead, this verse is about situational advantages that God promises to provide so that those who love him are enabled to walk the path he's laid out.

I know God loves me and that I am spoiled by his many provisions.  I know that God will shape my life to grow me to love him more so that my life can reflect his purpose, his power, his will.  I've find that my life is coming together in many unexpected ways.  In and through this cancer journey, I know I am undoubtably loved.

Quick list of huge blessings I've noted:
*Financially, Noel and I are not in the red even with a significant decrease in income these past few years... totally unexpected!
*My new dietary requirements would normally be a lot more difficult except that God has provided multiple people in my life who have already experienced similar issues and can provide a lot of insight.
*Driving for groceries is difficult, but God provides food from friends.
*Waves of despair and depression are buoyed by the constant support and encouragements of family and friends.
*God gave me medical knowledge in order to circumvent and manage many physical issues related to edema, open wounds, scars, fatigue, nutrition and medicine.

My conclusion: God has a reason and a purpose for my life, for this cancer, for all the ups and downs I have and will struggle through.

Lord Father God, you gave me this life... you can just as easily take this life away.  Why am I here?  What am I doing?  Lord, I know you have a broader vision.  Give me a glimpse of where you are leading me so I can hope, so I know where and how to fight.  May I be your soldier in this world, but not of it. Give me strength.  Give me insight.  Give me wisdom.  Give me courage.

Lord, help me fight where I need to fight.  Give me a humble attitude to listen when I need to follow.  Continue to boost my attitude as I chose to live this life in service to you. May my life, my words, my heart shine with your spirit.  May this life bring you, my God,  honor and glorify your name.  Give me reason to keep smiling.  Give me the heart to see the good and the fun in this life's journey.

In Jesus' name I pray, amen.

Playing paintball with our team: Uprising!

Exercising or sleeping? Take a guess :P

New chemo.... START!

Newest Video: Me talking while in the hospital... my first night. Sorry, video cannot be watched through iPhone or iPads because of the music.



Falling for the first time
Saturday, October 26, 2013

Noel's going to pick up my meds.  Yup, more medications.  There's like 3 or 4 types for nausea alone.  Yikes!  I'm so medicated right now up and down, left and right are kind of difficult to place.  Everything's all kinda floaty and fuzzy. 

Where are my keys?  Poor hubby is looking everywhere upstairs.  Maybe I have the keys by the door?  Getting up, I stroll over to the kitchen.  Maybe I have my keys by the garage door?

*blink blink*

Why am I sitting on the floor?  I find my hand clutching my right cheek and neck.  How come?  What happened?  What was I going for?  Why does my cheek and neck ache?  I see the oven in front of me, steel handles gleaming.  I hear hissing.  Is the stove on?  I see no fire.  In the distance, I hear Noel's voice... ummmmm, why do I hear so much worry?  That's not like him.

Time flows.  A second pass or a minute?  I can't tell anymore.  Noel is beside me, his voice a little panicky "What happened?"

Still feeling light, my voice replying in the distance: "I don't know.  I tried to search for my keys and somehow I am on the floor."  Still dazed, my ears search for the sound of hissing.  Noel must have noticed the hissing as well.  His eyes scan the stove top knobs, one is skewed and turned on.  With his right hand, he turns off the stove, his left arm still cradling me.  Ummmm, did my cheek or neck turn on the stove?  Maybe.  I must have hit something.  *shrug*  Glad I didn't get cut.  The doctors are really big on getting an infection and cuts right now.

Did I black out?  I've never lost consciousness before.  Usually, I'm proud to say that can gauge when my blood pressure falls too low and lean my body forward to recover.  Must be all the medications.  Guess I can't trust myself to monitor my own body when everything's so "not quite here" feeling.  Bleah... there goes my "I can do it" and "I'm not a fall risk"... right out the window.

Father God, thank you for this safe learning experience.  As I learn my body's new boundaries and reactions, thank you for keeping my safe.  Thank you that Noel was there to turn off the gas stove.  Thank you that I didn't get cut.  Thank you that I didn't fall down the stairs.

Lord, you know I hate being this weak, this dependent... but I can still move.  I can still think... barely... but I'm here.  Each day after chemo, my mind becomes more clear.  I dread going back and getting my next treatment round... but Lord, whatever you want.  I told you that and I mean it.  Just... keep giving me the strength, hope and courage to take each step with confidence.  Continue to guide the doctors so they can help heal me and not mess me up more.  Help me be aware of my body and symptoms that the doctors should know to provide the best treatment possible.

Father God, thank you for everyone around me... without everyone you've placed in my life, I don't think I could live this joyfully, this hopefully, this securely.

So, Lord, I lift your name in praise and thank you for helping me trudge on in my unexpected life you've given me to live.

In Jesus' name, amen.

Pic by Stephen.  Resting after a short walk in our community.