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:

I Wanna Go Home!

July 19, 2015

Soft blue glow of ever-present monitors gently permeates the room.  Click.  The door silently creeps open.  Light from the hallway cuts a harsh bright streak from floor to wall, a stark contrast of white on blue.  There is no such thing as a dark hospital room.  Never.

With a pillow partially over my face, I call in a muffled voice "Come in!"  Is it my nurse?  I peek at the figure now confidently striding in; yup, that's my nurse.  What time is it?  4:20am; the perfect time to start a new day... not.  Argh, I'm getting more and more sarcastic the longer I'm in this hospital. 

I pop up in bed, open my eyes nice and big, and paste on a lively smile, "So, time for my vitals and labs?"

"Yup.  Orders.  Were you sleeping?"

"It's all good.  I'll sleep better when I get home."

Honestly, my patience is wearing thin.  My tolerance to nicely follow orders is badly fraying. My veneer of genial kindness is eroding too quickly to repair.  I can barely paste a square-edged smile on my face when I greet the hospital staff.  I can hear the biting edge of tension, sarcasm, and demand in my words.  Not good, my mask is slipping.

Uh oh, here comes the intern doctor.  She doesn't exactly look excited.  Kristy, be nice! Remember, she's just doing her job and my attitude can make her job easier or harder. Smile.  Be gentle!

"Kristy, your neutrophil count actually went down.  Your resting heart rate is back at 120 and we don't know why.  Sorry, but you won't be able to go home today."

My body freezes as I process the mandatory increase of my hospital stay.  Hopelessness seeps into my mind.  What?  Yesterday, my neutrophil count went up... it was supposed to keep going up!  God, what's happening?  I've been stuck here for the 3rd day already.  I know I said I would accept the doctor's decision, whatever that is, but I find my mouth moving before I can regain enough control to play nice.  As if from a distance, I observe myself pleading, trying everything in my arsenal to justify getting the doctor to let me go home.  I watch myself lose all control as I push limits, consider out loud leaving against medical advice (bad move, leaves a horrible impression on the medical staff), and desperately insist on regaining the semblance of control over my own life.

None of my arguments sway the doctor's decision.  She stands firm, an immovable wall of protocol and hospital rules.  The outcome of prolonging my hospital stay is set in stone.

I don't usually cry, but I can't keep my walls up anymore.  Tears slowly seep out and run down my cheeks.  Roughly I brush it away.  It's hard to be strong when I feel defenseless, helpless, restricted... I'm bound to a place where free-will doesn't exist; the hospital is my prison and I am a slave in shackles.  

I silently scream, but nothing happens.  I'm miserable.  I'm so lost.  I'm broken inside.

God, why are you keeping me here?  I'm not getting any medical treatment.  I'm exposed to more people and more bacteria while stuck in this hospital.  I'm a bug under the microscope. I'm an interesting specimen everybody is observing with no clue what my body is doing! Lord, I'm tired.  I'm sick of being locked up.  Argh!  Why can't I just go home?

Deep breath in.  Slow breath out.  

Father God, forgive me, Lord, for arguing when I said I wouldn't.  Forgive me for making a fuss that only makes everyone feel bad and gets me nowhere.  Lord, give me the heart to accept the entirety of my hospital stay with an attitude that pleases you.  Give me peace and the complete acceptance to trust that your plan is better than mine.  Give me the heart to acknowledge that your timing is sovereign.  Help me to let go of my fight for control.

Lord, as you will it, I will obey and stay in this hospital with gladness and a true smile because I am choosing to serve you first over my own wants.  Lord, you know my desires.  I will continue to trust that you have the best in store for me.  Change my heart.  Change my attitude.  Change me to truly shine with your goodness.  Remove my fake mask, Lord, and give me a spirit that matches yours.

In Jesus' name I thank you for healing my heart, mending my mind, and giving me the strength to walk as you dictate.  Amen. 

Click.  I watch as my main attending doctor walks into my room.  Because of all my pushing to go home earlier, I feel pretty guilty for giving the intern doctor a hard time.  I'm not going to repeat the same mistake twice so I immediately call out, "I'll stay.  Anything you ask of me, I will be good and listen."  

"I will let you go home if you promise to follow a couple guidelines." 

Yes!  I'll do anything to go home!  Nodding my head enthusiastically, I agree.

Wow, God is amazing when and how he chooses to act!  No arguing.  No pleading.  No fighting.  None of my demands.  Just as God changed my heart and my attitude, I believe he changed the attending doctor's decision.  Yay!!!  I didn't meet any of the hospital criteria for going home so all I can say is that God is definitely working behind the scenes.

Praise the Lord! 

(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^)/

Feeling the Pain

“Food allergies?  Well, besides dairy, gluten’s pretty bad.  Yeah, feed me some and I’ll show you what happens!”  *wide grin*  “Want me to try some?”

No one ever takes me up on the offer; honestly, I’m not serious either.  Even though I can list the side effects of ingesting a product with gluten, it’s been months since I remember actually having to personally deal with the situation.  Bad experiences fade over time…. Or rather, Kristy’s brain is like a sieve and I don’t retain a lot of information unless I’m actively using it!

While shopping for groceries, I find a yummy guava juice that I used to drink years ago.  *drool*  Nothing  in the ingredients state gluten; I can’t find anything online pointing one way or another so there’s only this huge unknown “natural flavor” ingredient.  I know that depending on what the “natural flavor” is and what it’s made from, there is a chance the ingredient contains gluten.  *shrug*  Well, so far almost all the natural flavoring products I’ve come across are safe.  I’ll be fine.  Even just a small fraction in the juice should be okay right?

Wrong.  Oh am I so wrong about taking my food allergies lightly.

Saturday evening, my whole midsection hurts, but I’ll live.  *shrug*  No big deal, I’ve dealt with this situation before, I can do it again.  Today will be achiness everywhere; tomorrow I’ll feel bruised inside; day after I should be back on my feet.  Easy.

Well... not quite so easy.

Sunday morning… okay this is beyond NOT fun.  Each breath I take sends flashes of pain ripping through my abdomen; deep inside, muscles spasm, twist and knot.  I clench my teeth, my arms and legs are tense as I hiss in response to the pain.  Panting with shallow breaths, I attempt to minimize all movement.  Wait, what if I roll to my side?  Rolling (not even an inch), I quickly stop as waves of agony wash through my mind.  This is so NOT a good idea.   Returning to rest in my original position, I move slowly, freezing as each small muscle twitch amplifies into minutes of prolonged agony. 

Great… why didn’t I remember how bad the pain is?  Was it this bad before?  I can remember every instance where I had trouble moving due to pain… this doesn’t top my worst day, but it definitely makes it into my top 10 most painful experiences list.  Grrrr… This will pass right?  By tomorrow, my insides will feel like I got punched black and blue, but I should still be able to work.  This pain, I just have to hold on for one more day… after that, I’ll get better again.  I always get better.

Finally, the long-awaited Monday comes.  YAY!!!  Knowing that my pain should be gone, I twist my body in an attempt to snuggle deeper into the comforters.  Instead, I barely move and my eyes pop open as fresh waves of pain assail me.  What’s going on?  I didn’t have abdominal surgery again did I?  No, this is much worse.  After each abdominal surgery, even without pain meds, I could still move.  Right now, I hurt so much that I’m afraid to move anything.  I can feel my insides shifting with gravity.  The dull ache’s expected, but I’m surprised at how the smallest movements still send shards of hot knives through my abdomen… mostly just on my right side.  Ahhhh… got it… right side is where my largest tumors are.  Meh.

Frozen in a partial roll, I debate my options.  Well, today _is_ better than yesterday right?  Nothing inside is torn, probably just inflamed.  I’ve got to get up some day anyways.  Jamming my arms into the bed, I vault my body upright.  Gasping for air, my mouth opens but my body refuses to take a breath in!  Frozen, my head spins, my body feels both weak and yet trembles with tension.  Stop… this hurts too much!

Focus 

                             Slow breaths

                Concentrate

Pain is only a sensation.  There is no injury.  I have no wound.

I need to stand up.  My back refuses to straighten.  I hurt.  Shuffling forward, each step drives nails into my abdomen.  There’s no way I can make it to work today; I can’t even walk properly much less attempt to treat patients!

Tilting my head up, I look at myself in the mirror.  Oh, this looks good… my back is curved into a half cirlce, my shoulders are up by my ears, I can’t straighten my knees.  Oh yeah… this posture will inspire so much confidence towards me as a therapist.  Okay… today’s a no go for work… back to bed.  Slowly, slowly… move, pause, breathe, relax.  Repeat.  I can do this.  I can get back into bed… then I can relax.  For now, just ignore the pain.  Pain’s still there.  Ignore it.  Pain alone can’t kill me.  Keep moving.  I got this far away from the bed, I can make it back.  I will make it back!

Father God, as always, you provide in amazing ways.  Usually, my CT scan is scheduled first thing in the morning, but this time you set my appointment in the afternoon.  I tried calling radiology a couple of times to move the appointment earlier but could never get through.  Every time I even thought about changing my CT scan appointment time, you stopped me.  End result?  Your timing is perfect.  Your plan is flawless.  I couldn’t get to my CT appointment any earlier than my scheduled afternoon slot.

*wide grin*  You’d think I’d learn my lesson already!  When you provide Lord, there’s a reason; even if I don’t know what your reasons are, everything always turns out better than just right!

Lord Jesus, give me the wisdom to take care of this body even as I push it to the limits.  Thank you for taking most of the pain away.  Thank you that I could go back to work on Tuesday, have Wednesday to rest, work on Thursday, have Friday to rest… and then sucessfully work on Saturday with the help of a co-worker who decided to freely volunteer her time, totally unpaid, to help me get through the day.  As usual, God, your provisions, your timing… everything is better than perfect when I lay my schedule, my activities, my life at your feet.

Thank you, Father God, Lord Jesus, Holy Spirit… for loving me so much that my life is better than anything I dreamed of as a child.  Thank you for the challenges to grow me.  Thank you for the difficulties that allow me to see you in action.  Thank you for the love you shower on me.  Thank you for times of action and times of rest.

May I continue to seek you, Lord God and you alone.  For in your presence, I am complete, I am whole, I am satisfied. 

I lift my hands in praise to my amazing God who allows me to dwell in his presence, who gives me better than the best, who fulfills every need and heals every hurt.  In Jesus’ name I lift my voice in praise, amen.

This is me crawling out of my new mild hyperbaric oxygen chamber gifted by my parents, my brother, Winston, my sister, Jessica, and her husband, Andrew.  Thank you guys for the awesome gift!!!

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

Living with Cancer

Tumor (Kristy’s definition): unwanted mass of useless living tissue; a glorified weed located in the body; a source of fear, pain and acknowledged mortality.

I know my CT scan was positive for tumors 4 months ago.  A large part of me is hoping that the tumors in my body would shrink.  Another part of me hopes that the tumors would disappear and never return! 

Striding down my hospital hallway, I flip through freshly printed papers.  These are the new results of my most recent CT scan with contrast.  Chest, still clear.  Good.  Abdomen… ahhh, here I go again.  Am I ready?  I don’t feel ready.  Shaking inside, I see that not only do I have more tumors, but the ones seen 4 months ago are all twice as large as before.  Wait, these tumors are almost half the size of my fist already?  More tumors than before?  Great, my third abdominal surgery was just a year and a half ago and the chemotherapy after that physically wiped me out… I do NOT want to deal with all this cancer stuff anymore!

*deep sigh* 

I’m just starting to get stronger.  I’m finally back rockclimbing and attacking the 5.10-5.11 climbs.  I no longer tremble with fatigue and physically crash so hard I cannot move the next day.  I’m getting better again! 

Do I have to lose my strength?  Do I really have to face becoming physically useless?  I don’t mind losing my hair for the third time, but will I have to give up working?  Give up paintballing?  Give up rockclimbing?  Give up driving?

My chest hurts.  My hands shake.  My vision blurs.  Once again, do I have to place my dreams on hold?  This time around, will I even get back on my feet again?  How many chemotherapy trials are enough?  How many surgeries before I choose to stop?

Father God, tears drip from my eyes as I face the potential difficulties ahead.  The last round of surgery and chemotherapy was extremely rough… it took me over a year to recover and I’m still not where I used to be.  Lord, what’s it going to be this time around?

God, I acknowledge that you are in complete control of my life, my future, my abilities… I know that even through the toughest of times, I get blessed by seeing you perform impossible miracles.  I know that when I am weakest, I notice most your strength, your love for me, your provisions, your amazing power.  Father, even as I get to see you more clearly, I’m still scared.  I hate losing control of my life.  I hate being bedridden.  I hate not being able to actively work and play.

Lord God, you know that I love the challenge of playing unique sports.  In rockclimbing, I get to enjoy the thrill of almost falling, savor the adrenaline of pushing through almost impossible spots, wallow in the sense of accomplishing a difficult goal.  With gentle balance on one outcropping to a light touch on another, I get to fly through the air, occasionally grasping handholds I’m too short to reach.  Success and failure intertwined.  Trial and error.  A twist here, backstep there… I swing my body up and over large round boulders.  Smooth transitions, dynamic leaps.  I can feel my body stretching and muscles sliding as time slows down.  Lord, the impossible becomes possible if I only try hard enough, push hard enough, let go of my fears.  Focus.  Determination.   Tender palms and achy forearms, but I know that I’m alive!  New bruises form.  Excitement.  Tension.  Pure stubborness.  I’m going to make it up or fall trying.  This is what I feel when I climb, knowing that you are besides me every step of the way.

Lord, I don’t want to lose this part of myself!

Then, Father,  there’s paintball.  I’m finally able to get back on the field, still slow, but at least I can play!  I enjoy the thrill of dodging paintballs, protecting my teammates, hunting down my opponents.  Even while breathing hard, I know that I should be able to do even more.  If I can remove the mental limitations, anything is possible!  Shouting out positions, dashing from one bunker to the next, keep my head low and gun up… as I play, satisfaction and disappointment intertwine as one game blends into another.  Lord God, because of you, I’ve learned that there’s no such thing as failure, but there’s always the opportunity to try again.  Again and again, I want to hone my body, my reflexes, my abilities.  I want to continue challenging and being challenged to grow.  I want to feel the rush of a job well done. 

God, I know that it’s only through you, that I’ve made it this far, that because of you in my life, I can confidently jump forward into the unknown… knowing that if I stray too far or push too hard, you’re there to catch me.  Father, it’s because of the security I have in you that I can so fully live my life.  Lord, because of your amazing love, I can take joy in the struggles that come my way.  Father God, thank you for giving me peace.  Thank you for guiding me in medical decisions.  Thank you, Lord God, that I am never alone.  You are my strength, my joy, my purpose.  Without you, Lord, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.

Lord God, thank you for letting me see your provisions.  Thank you for this period of time where I got strong enough to climb rocks and play paintball again.  Thank you for the opportunity to work with tools on fun projects and acquire many beautiful orchids!  Lord, in you, I have peace knowing that this path I walk has a purpose, that my life is not useless.  Thank you that I can continue to serve you by serving those around me.  May my walk with you bring you glory and honor.  May my attitude in good times and bad speak clearly of my relationship with you.   May your presence shine in my life and my lifestyle so clearly none can deny that you exist.

Lord, for as long as you allow it, I will continue to go all out… to work, to play, to enjoy this life to the fullest extent that you have blessed me with. 

Give me patience to wait on your timing.  Give me peace to face the challenges ahead.  Give me hope that in you, all is well.  Give me joy in your presence.  Give me strength to forge ahead.

Lord, may I never stop serving you until one day you call me to rest.  Until then, give me the heart to use all the talents and gifts you give me so that I can complete the tasks you call me to.  Lord, in this life, I choose you first.  Give me the strength to live for you first above all my own hopes and dreams.  Help me acknowledge that in walking with you, I lose out on nothing.

In Jesus’ name I give God my past, my  present, my future, amen.

​At the 2015 March CEPL tournament #1... Noel being weird.

Second Chances

"I've got a story to share!  I screwed up but God used it to spur me on in another situation the very next day.  God is truly amazing!  I'm so excited but I'm not sure who I can share this story with."

"So why don't you write the story on your blog?"

Huh?  What?  "Ummm, It's because the thought process is so Christiany and most people wouldn't be interested right?"

"You'll share this story with me... isn't that the kind of stuff you usually write about in your blog?  Your stories?"

"Oh yeah."  *sheepish grin*  I've not written a blog post that actually hit close to my heart for a while (another excuse for not posting what I have already written and saved on the side).

Somehow, publicly sharing about myself, my thoughts, my heart... it's never easy.  I feel vulnerable.   I feel scared.  *shiver*  Being authentically open is not comfortable; however, if I want my friends to know me, really know me, then I need to share what moves me, the driving force behind my choices, my thoughts, and my actions... and for me, the center of my life is Jesus Christ. 

The primary thing that gives me the resolve to write about my personal life is that God is so amazing, so real to me, so loving!  I'm so excited about what I see and what I experience that I want my friends to have a glimpse of how I think and who I really am.  The Kristy you know is tightly woven with my relationship in and with Jesus Christ.  My God is a huge part of my identity, without him by my side, I would not be the person you now know.

So here is what I hesitated, until now, to write:

"Hey Kristy, how do you manage to stay so positive with all the surgeries and chemotherapy treatments?"

"Well... I'm able to be joyful even when times are tough because I have great support through my husband, Noel, my family, my friends and my community."

Uhhhhh.... what?!?  What kind of answer is this?

Sure what I said is true, but I also completely missed the mark of why I am so content with my life, my body, and the physical hardships with cancer.  What I really want to say is "Because I know I am so loved by God, my entire attitude is based on the fact that God's got my back."

My mouth would not open.  I couldn't speak my heart.  Why?  Of all times, I got cold feet.  Fear of being judged, scared of being ignored, I could not express the one main source of light in my life... that God's personal presence in my life _is_ my key, my strength, my hope... he is my everything.

I've seen God come through impossible situations, make money where there should be none, give me strength when I could only crawl, provide to my needs without ever being asked, give me hope when life appeared hopeless... and above it all, in Christ, I have a purpose even as I lost all ability to be who I thought I was... a racer, a paintballer, a rockclimber and a physical therapist.  My identity is not in my abilities, my capabilities, my physical strength, my possessions... my identity is solidly as a child of Christ... this is my hope, my light and my reason in this life and for this life.

The greatest part of who I am and why I am the way I am comes from having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ... and for the life of me, I could not say it.  My very heart, I hid myself  in empty words.

This blog is my second chance.  My opportunity to clearly express myself.

Now I need to practice my blogging muscles again so this one is going to stay short.

Thank you all for reading!  And a big thanks to Tracey for encouraging me to honestly share my thoughts through this blog post... I needed the extra kick.  *big hugs*

--Kristy  (^o^)/

Tiny plum blossoms, drifting under a car while leaving church.  Such small and delicate flowers, God created in beautiful detail... over and over again, I'm amazed at his creations.