Here

I’ve known her since I was six years old, and she was three. We’ve been friends since we met. It was really by default — our parents were best friends; our siblings were the same age and shared a mutual disdain for us, so we became quick comrades. Our parents gave us the same toys to play with (like dolls and prestidigitation (not magic!) sets) and enrolled us in similar extra curricular activities (like dance classes). For about three years — until our family moved to Florida — we were inseparable.

She and I went to Italy together when I was 22 — a trip we will never forget — and she was in my wedding a year later. Now we’re practically related; my sister married her brother. As with many adult friendships, ours has not included frequent visits over the years I’ve been married, but we’ve been there for each other during the important milestones in life.

During my first fight with breast cancer, my sweet friend sent me care packages from Sephora — if you’ve been following my blog long enough, she’s the friend who sent me eye shadows and mascara and lipstick and masks and nail polish — gifts that allowed me the distraction of doing my makeup and dressing up my face and making me feel feminine during my battle.

When my friend’s mom got sick she helped care for her over four long years while her mother continued to deteriorate. Her mother became a shadow of her former self and it was heart-breaking to watch her go from such a lively and vivacious person to one who barely spoke or smiled. I can only imagine how difficult it was for her family to watch it first-hand.

This friend is a self-acknowledged introvert. We don’t speak about feelings or emotions — she keeps those parts of her deep inside her mind. But she has shown me her feelings and emotions through her actions — from being the ideal bridesmaid (smile and do what the bridezilla says) to sending me Sephora care packages to most recently coming to visit me.

If you remember, I’d met with a surgeon in September who was going to perform a DIEP FLAP reconstructive surgery for me. I encourage you to Google it if you want details of the surgery, but the short version is that the surgeon takes the fat from your abdomen and forms breasts out of it. Long-term results are great, but the recovery is intense and difficult. I was scheduled to have the surgery around Thanksgiving, so my sister was going to stay with me immediately after, and my dear friend was going to follow behind to continue to aid me in my recovery.

The fact that I got sick again and that the surgery was cancelled did not mean that she could not still visit, so she went forward with her plans to come see me anyway. She arrived last Sunday.

I have a confession: I was nervous about her visit. I have not had anyone other than my immediate family around me during my chemo “aftermath” — that is the time after chemo when I crash, sleeping almost constantly while experiencing flu-like symptoms. I wasn’t sure what to do with my friend when I got like this. And she would be here for the entire time I would feel this way.

What I forgot is that my friend — being an introvert — likes the quiet. She also had experience with caring for someone who was ill. I had nothing to be worried about. She didn’t seem to mind at all.

She left this morning, and I’ve been thinking about her visit ever since. Initially I was concerned over whether or not she enjoyed her stay — she can be a little difficult to read. But as I thought more about it I realized that all indications pointed to a successful visit.

We bonded over Pitch Perfect and binge-watched some shows on Netflix that we really enjoyed. She seemed to enjoy the companionable silence as we each read on our tablets. We laughed together — a lot. She loved our dogs and seems to have decided she’ll look for one of her own to adopt. She hugged me tightly when we said goodbye at the airport.

With this friend, I discovered, I just have to pay attention. Watch her face while she’s watching a movie or petting my dogs. Listen when she speaks. Recognize that silence isn’t always a bad thing. And give thought to what her kind gestures really mean. Doing that made this image pop into my head.

4742-ME6

I love this illustration. It’s so matter-of-fact. There is no elaborate explanation or ceremony. No big presentation. Just the word “here” as she hands over her heart. That is my friend and I’m so grateful to be a recipient.

xoxo

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End of an Era

I’m usually the one with all the words. This time, Mama wanted them to share this news. She’s done it beautifully, so I will leave it to her:

We’ve loved these days…

Many of you, our dear customers and friends, know that the younger partner in our mother daughter partnership was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015. Some of you know that the cancer has returned. Unfortunately, Allegra will be in treatment for quite a while and the treatment is no picnic.

The older partner in this arrangement wants to be able to drop everything at a moment’s notice to be available for Allegra. All of the mothers who read this will understand. It is for this reason that we have decided to close our shop, Joli Home Accents.

To paraphrase an old Billy Joel song, we’ve loved these days. We have loved being a part of our charming Bay Street shopping district. We have loved our fellow business owners. We have especially loved you, our customers. You have made Joli a joy to own and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Joli’s last day of operation in 2017 will be Saturday December 23. We will reopen for a five day clearance sale in January. Please check our Facebook page and Eat Sleep Play Beaufort for dates and further information.

Again we want to thank you all for your loyalty and patronage. It has been a privilege and “We’ve loved these days”.

Cheryl and Allegra, The Shopgirls

Good Day, Sunshine

I got the results of my biopsy today. For those of you just tuning in, I have been having some pain in my groin and it was determined that the lymph nodes there were swollen and enlarged. It appeared that the cancer had spread to them; however to make sure, I got a biopsy of the nodes.

They’re NOT cancerous!

Can you believe it?! Everyone was happily surprised (cue the above song in my head). It had really seemed as though the biopsy was a formality and that they must be cancerous, but they’re not!

So what does this mean?

A few things:

  1. The cancer has not spread. I already have the mass in my pancreas and significant lymph node involvement. These have responded dramatically to the chemotherapy. If the lymph nodes in my groin had turned out to be cancer, then the chemo drug I’m on wouldn’t have worked as well as we thought, and we would have to worry about continuous spreading of the disease.
  2. I don’t have to alter or add anything to my chemotherapy regimen. Since they’re not cancer, it means that my chemo drug IS working as well as we want it to, and I don’t need to change a thing about my routine. Adding another chemotherapy drug could have meant additional side effects like losing my hair, lower blood counts, more pain, etc.
  3. I get to stay in my chemo routine. I mentioned this above, but to explain in more detail, we chemo patients learn our routines once we get into a chemo regimen. We learn what days are good, what days are bad, and what side effects to expect. If a new chemo drug is added, it’s like starting over again. We have new good and bad days to adjust to and new side effects to learn and to navigate. Being able to stay in my current routine is much easier on me.
  4. Going forward, I will continue the Gemzar (chemo drug) schedule — three weeks on, one week off. Scans (PET and CT) will be every three months. This will continue until a) the Gemzar stops working, or b) the Gemzar becomes toxic to my body. The end date of this chemo cannot be predicted; we just watch and see what happens.
  5. As far as what caused the lymph nodes to be painful and swollen, we don’t know. And quite honestly, we don’t care because it’s NOT CANCER.

But God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear, but along with the temptation he will also make the way out so that you may be able to endure it.

1 Corinthians 10:13 (NWT)

I am so grateful that God knows our limitations and provides us with what we need to endure different trials. I’m so thankful for this news. It feels like someone just added more time to my timer — took one big spin backwards on the dial.

This is the most optimistic I’ve felt since my re-diagnosis. It’s the first time I’ve breathed a sigh of relief, that I’ve thought of my expiration date as possibly being years away instead of months away. Researching and planning our big trip in June fills me with excitement instead of trepidation.

Today is a Good Day, Sunshine.

xoxo

Newsy Post: Scan Results

I saw my Oncologist this morning for my scan results. As you know, I’ve been nervous, especially because I’ve been experiencing a new pain in my groin area, where there are lymph nodes.

The bad news is that it does look like the lymph nodes in my groin are cancerous. We will confirm with a biopsy (waiting for it to be scheduled). In case it is simply an infection, I will start antibiotics tomorrow. If it is cancerous, there are chemotherapies that can target it that can be added to my regimen.

The good news is that the tumor in my pancreas and the surrounding lymph nodes are responding beautifully. In fact, my oncologist said they are “dramatically better.” I cannot tell you the sense of relief I feel at this news. I am so happy about this, and I feel “cautiously optimistic” for the first time in this journey.

Today my family, friends, and I are celebrating this small victory.

Also today, we mourn the loss of our sweet friend and fellow cancer fighter. She fought hard against cancer for around the last two years. She maintained amazing strength, faith, and optimism throughout her journey. We are thinking of her family — husband, daughters, sisters (brothers?), parents, nieces, nephews, aunts, cousins, and more. She will be so missed, but we know that we will see her again soon!

xoxo

Visit at the Right Time

A true friend shows love at all times,

And is a brother (or sister) who is born for times of distress.

                                                                   –Proverbs 17:17 (NWT)

My best friend and her husband came down for a visit this weekend. She’s my friend that I’ve mentioned before — she sends me a card every week. She and I FaceTime regularly. We are kindred spirits, and I feel very blessed to have her in my life. She remembers things about me that I even forget, and she listens more closely than I realize, as is evident from different gifts that she will send me throughout the year. I can tell her absolutely anything, with complete confidence that she will not judge me.

The weekend was so refreshing and just what I needed. We made virtually zero plans, aside from what to eat and where to eat it. And we just talked. And talked. And talked. It’s amazing that we even have anything to talk about, since we talk via text and FaceTime often, but we always do. Conversations drifted back and forth between topics, and we rarely actually finished one, as we got distracted by the next. But we would have it no other way. It’s the way our friendship works.

Recently I have felt lonely. Being under the influence of strong opioid drugs, I do not drive so my ability to run errands, or even to engage in some casual retail therapy, are very limited. Some days — even if I have the opportunity to be chauffeured around — I don’t feel up to it. It’s a very solitary existence, and I’ve given in to self-pity.

The reality is, though, that I am blessed with real and true friends. Friends that are family, both literally and figuratively. Friends that use their mileage points for me. Friends that carve time out of every week to send me a card or to FaceTime with me. Friends that make me laugh until I cry and friends who text me just to check in. Friends who are genuinely happy for me when I get to spend time with another friend. Friends who end their texts and phone calls with “love you.”

As my kindred spirit left today, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law arrived. They, along with my local sister-in-law and family, greeted me with long, protective hugs and faces that showed their happiness at seeing me.

My friends have made the story of my life.
–Helen Keller

This Tuesday I will find out the results of my scans. I will either receive good or bad news about how the Chemotherapy is or isn’t working. My oncology team will either tell me to continue the Chemo regimen I’m in or we will explore other options. I’ve been nervous about this appointment since last weekend. As to be expected, I am still anxious about the appointment, but I sit here writing without the dread that’s been hanging over my head.

I’ve been strengthened and refreshed by my visit with my sweet friend. It’s simply impossible to enjoy the friendship I’ve enjoyed this weekend and continue to have dread in my heart.

And I can feel the support of my family as I head into the week of unknowns ahead of me.

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for reminding me that I’m not alone at all.

xoxo

Bucket List

I’ve been thinking about a bucket list lately. It wasn’t something I gave much thought to until I got this diagnosis and started to realize I have a finite period of time left.

November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month, and I was doing a basic knowledge quiz. The average life expectancy for pancreatic cancer patients is five years. Does that mean that I should compile a bucket list? Is a bucket list even a reasonable list to make?

Do people really make bucket lists and cross off all their items? I don’t know that I can think of enough items to make a list. I can’t think of a whole lot in this life that is excessively important to accomplish I have travel goals, of course. And I have famous people I’d like to meet. I guess there are things I want to try, but because of my future hope, I’m not overly anxious to make sure these things happen before I die.

Then there is the concern of how realistic my bucket list items are. Seeing the Grand Canyon isn’t unreasonable in and of itself, but taking the summer to drive cross-country, spending time in various national parks may not be realistic. Meeting Johnny Depp is definitely not realistic. Writing a book is a reasonable and excellent bucket list item, but writing a book that is published nationally may be too lofty.

Not being a risk taker, I don’t have goals like bungee jumping or sky diving. I don’t want to train for a marathon or even a 5K. I want to become a published travel writer and commune with nature in Glacier National Park for a couple of weeks. I want my book to reach a spot on the Bestseller List. I want a blog post or essay to garner national attention.

Clearly my bucket list items don’t follow the S.M.A.R.T. guideline for goals. I’ve got the Specific and Measurable down, but things fall apart after that.

I think I’ve drawn my own conclusion about making a bucket list — though I fully intended to ask your opinion. It’s better for me to keep my dreams and goals quiet but lofty. A bucket list is not necessary for this girl.

On the contrary, I’ll be thankful for any experiences I get to enjoy over the next few years. Like the once-in-a-lifetime trip to Alaska this coming June with my family. Or the visit later this month from my kindred spirit and soul sister (and her husband). And the visit from my mother-in-law and sister-in-law who I’m anxious to see since my diagnosis. Even the simple sleepovers with my niece (24) and great-niece (3), where we tend to stay up late and talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

I can think back over recent experiences, too, like when my big sister came for two weeks to take care of me and we both picked new projects to work on at Hobby Lobby. My sister learned how to draw butterflies and birds, but I’m no better at my hand-lettering. And how she worked with my son every day after school on his homework, so I could rest.

Bucket lists may be important to some people, but at the risk of sounding obnoxious or over-privileged, I feel like I get to experience bucket-list sized events regularly. Either that, or my definition skews between overly simple and ridiculously unrealistic. But I always receive support when I need it, and I get to experience some pretty cool things in my life.

Not Goodbye

We said “see you soon” to two of our best friends last night. We’ve known them almost ten years. Our times together are marked by laughter. Our kids, despite the age difference, get along fabulously.

These are people we can text and just say, “Wanna hang out?” Most of our time together is spent talking, playing games, watching TV or a movie and laughing. A lot. Ours is a comfortable friendship — there is no competition or need to impress. They see me without makeup and without my prosthetic.

They were there for me through my first battle with cancer, and they have been here for me again this time. She, her daughter, and her mom celebrated my last chemo with me (remember the boob cupcakes?).

She was there for me when I lost my very best friend, offering support and wise advice. She’s younger than me, but I don’t notice. She’s dealt with so much in her life that she seems older. She’s comfortable in her own skin, unafraid of being herself — something I still struggle with at 40.

She’s an entrepreneur, a talented photographer, and recently added teacher to her titles when she started homeschooling her daughter. She’s not afraid of new things — hence the move.

I will miss her tremendously, but I don’t worry about staying in touch. I can be a good long-distance friend. There is texting and FaceTime. Instagram and Facebook. And there is always the opportunity to visit.

No goodbyes, my sweet friend. Only see you soon. Have fun on your new adventure. I love you.

xoxo