The Day the Silence Spoke Back

 

Dear Frenchie,

There was a time I believed that once someone passed, they were simply gone—out of reach, out of touch, out of time. The physical pain of your absence has been unbearably hard. The silence I’ve felt is so loud, it hurts.

But then something changed.

Slowly, quietly, profoundly—I began to hear you. To feel you with me.

It didn’t happen all at once. It started with a whisper of intuition, a warmth in a room where I stood alone, a flicker of a memory that came alive in real time. I thought I was imagining it—but I desperately wanted it to be real. Over time, those feelings returned, again and again, with clarity, with power, and with love.

Grief has cracked me wide open. And in that open space, your spirit found room to enter my heart and soul. Thank you for that.

I’ve realized that spirits don’t always come with flashing lights or dramatic signs. Often, it’s subtle. It’s the beautiful sunsets and the wondrous sunrises I now love to wake up to.
It’s the song that plays when I’m thinking of you.
It’s the memory of you learning the Stanky Leg and how happy that made you.
It’s the feather on my doorstep or the ladybugs that continue to show up.
The dream that felt more like a visit than a vision.
It’s the way my body chills just before a wave of peace washes over me.

The more I’ve leaned into trust, the stronger the connection has grown. I began talking to you—first out loud, then in thought, and sometimes just through tears. And always, you responded—in your own way, not in words, but in presence. A presence so unmistakable, I can only call it sacred.

I’ve come to understand: love doesn’t die. Energy doesn’t end. And your spirit hasn’t abandoned me. Quite the opposite—you have stepped into my heart and reassured me that you are with me anytime I need to tap into that spirit.

Because of your visits, I’ve learned to stop and enjoy the small things—like you did during that year and a half before you passed away. My awareness is palpable. Strikingly overwhelming at times, but I am grateful for the continued lessons I’m learning about you.

I’ve learned to meditate by sitting in the silence, breathing air into my lungs, and feeling your presence wrap around me like a soft embrace. I only remember the good times we shared. I don’t take your presence lightly—it is profound.

Our loved ones are not “lost.” They are transformed. They walk with us, whisper to us, and when we get quiet enough to listen, they answer.

Your mom did that with me after she passed—her first visit was when I had to be resuscitated during a very long and dangerous surgery. It only lasted a few minutes, but what took place with her seemed like much longer. When I opened my eyes, I was in Heaven. Your mom was there, holding her arms out, wanting me to run into them—and I did. Her eyes were as blue as I remembered, like the Caribbean Sea. She told me Heavenly Father had asked her to visit with me, and she instructed me about three things I still needed to do here on earth.

On that visit, your dad was there too. I hugged him and felt the strength of his embrace. I told him I didn’t want to go back—that my life was too hard. He didn’t hesitate. He waved his hand to his left and said, “Do you see those children playing? Those are your grandchildren, and they need your influence and example in their lives. Now it is time for you to return to your life on earth.”

Then he looked at your mother and said something I later found peculiar: “It’s time for Monya to go back to her life on earth, and it’s time for you and I to get back to work.” Get back to work? What did that mean? I had so many questions as I tried to make sense of what had happened to me that day.

The second time your mother appeared to me was in a dream. We walked through a beautiful garden as she explained one of her “jobs” in Heaven: she oversaw it. She asked me about you, whether you were treating me with love and respect, just as Ray had treated her. She asked if I was happy. We talked about spiritual things, and I remembered why I loved her so much. She still visits me in my dreams.

I felt it when my brother, Lance, passed away. I carried shame and guilt, wondering if I had taken him to the hospital that night instead of worrying about him keeping me awake, could I have saved him?

But when Lance visited me not long after his death, he placed his hand on mine as I prayed about him. I reveled in those moments, eyes closed, listening as he spoke. I heard him as if he were alive and standing beside me. He said:

"Monya, my death is not your fault. It was my time to go, and I am happy. Now it’s time for you to move out of Mom and Dad’s house and start living. Go and enjoy your new life with Eric—he is a good person."

And then he was gone.

When Jami was diagnosed with breast cancer, I knew I needed to visit her—but I didn’t. I felt uncomfortable. How could I face someone I loved so much, someone who had already suffered so deeply?

After her death, I punished myself with guilt for not going to her. That pain became even harder to bear when I was diagnosed with breast cancer myself.

But I began to pray about Jami, and the spirit I felt was hers. She assured me she knew I loved her—and she understood why I didn’t come. She told me that now, having received the same diagnosis, I would appreciate it. She reminded me to focus on the fight ahead. She told me I would be blessed through the process and that Heavenly Father would never leave my side.

She was right. I didn’t waste energy worrying about who came to visit or who said the wrong things. I gave grace—because I remembered how I felt with Jami. And when I told you that story, you were mesmerized. You asked why you’d never had experiences like that.

I’ll never forget what I said:
I told you that you didn’t need the reassurance like I did. You were raised in a very different environment from mine.

For me, those spiritual encounters kept me grounded, alive, conscious. They carried me when I felt I couldn’t go on. It wasn’t always easy—in fact, it was humiliating at times—but I made it through.

And finally, there was Black Rock Beach.

The Lord allowed you to visit me in the very place where you took your last breath. I believe He escorted you there and left us to share sacred time together.

You told me you saw me on the beach that day—you knew I would never be the same again. You told me about where you are. You said you are so happy that where you are, there are no negative feelings or thoughts. You said Heaven is real—it’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. Then you shared your spiritual connection with Heaven and the life you now have. It was the first time I had ever seen you in this light, and it was so refreshing.

You told me you were excited to be allowed to visit me. And that I have a gift—a gift to feel the spirits of those we love who have passed.

You told me you knew you couldn’t help me any other way—but visiting me was enough. It was everything. You shared your love for the Lord and assured me He lives and loves us all. Those spiritual thoughts you shared with me are my favorite—because I had never heard you speak with such intention.

I know now, without a doubt, that there is life after death. And I can tune in to those feelings when needed. I didn’t want our moment to end. But when it did, I looked at my watch, stunned that we had spent four hours together.

I treasure your love and your presence in my life. I feel you often. And I am eternally grateful to Heavenly Father for that day on the beach—and for the life we shared.

As rocky as the beginning of our marriage was, I will always be proud of us—of our grit and determination to keep going. The world said we were a statistic, that we’d never make it. But we did. And we both know we had a beautiful love story. It is more evident to me now how much you love me.

Thank you for loving me the way you have, and for continuing to show me your beautiful, vulnerable heart. I love this part of you.

Now, when I feel that gentle tug in my soul—or the warmth over my entire body—I no longer wonder. I know.

I am a special daughter of God, protected and guided by the spirits of those who love me.

I am not alone.
I never was.
And neither are you.

I am in love with our eternal companionship.

I love you. And I look forward to seeing you again.

Love,
Me, your cute wifey

Ruptured Implant

     Eric and I were in Mexico not too long ago, and I was lying by the pool. Some boys were tossing a ball back and forth to each other when the ball went next to my chair; I stood up and tripped on one of the other balls next to my chair. I instantly lost balance, which is not hard to do. I landed on a small concrete wall; the edge of the wall was precisely under my breast on the left side. It hurt; I thought I had broken a rib, and my breath was taken away. 

    When the pain didn't go away after a few weeks, I thought I may have ruptured one of the implants I received during reconstruction when I had breast cancer. First, I called Dr. Kreymerman; you know who he is if you've followed my blog; if not, Dr. Kreymerman or (PK) was the fantastic surgeon who did all my reconstruction. He has since moved from Arizona and is now living in North Carolina with his cute family. We talked briefly, and then he referred me to another doctor at the Mayo Clinic in Arizona.

    I sat in the exam room with a robe on, waiting for the doctor. I instantly recognized him. I told him I thought I had broken an implant; he sat in his chair, looked at my breasts, and said, "No, they are fine." I told him I was worried because silicone can get into your body and really do damage to your major organs. I said, "I thought implants were supposed to be exchanged every ten years, and breast cancer patients don't pay." He stopped me and said there was nothing wrong with my breast and that the ten-year rule did not apply any longer. I stared at him, unsure what to say: no x-ray, no CT scan? The Mayo Clinic has always been comprehensive with cancer patients. I got dressed and left.

    I called Eric from the car, and he said, "What ...? That is weird; how does he know nothing is broken if they don't do a proper exam?" I told him it was frustrating and that my ribs were still in pain after 6 weeks, but perhaps I was wrong, and the implants were OK. I started checking online for another doctor and little did I know there is a team of doctors at Southwest Breast Aesthetics who only work with breast cancer patients' reconstruction. I called them, told them my worries, and made an appointment. I would be seeing Dr. Mino. I liked him immediately, and you know how I feel about surgeons. If I don't think they are confident ... I am done. Dr. Mino examined me properly and said if my ribs were still hurting after a month, there was a possibility of a problem. I set up my subsequent surgery with him. On November 3rd, I had surgery with him at Scottsdale Hospital. 

    My left breast implant ruptured. Dr. Mino said the surgery took longer than usual because the silicone was floating around in my breast cavity. He also advised us he had to go smaller because he could not stretch the thin skin around the implant. The skin was radiated and usually gets really thin, so that part was normal. I didn't care about being a smaller size; I've always wanted to have smaller breasts. 

    I'm grateful to Dr. Kreymerman for the excellent care he gave me at Mayo Clinic, but not so much in the new surgeon I met with.

DUMP IT

 

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2015

Dump It

 I’ve kept my mind preoccupied for the past couple of weeks. Instead of worrying about my surgery tomorrow, nothing I do keeps my mind off my mental pain.

I’ve been in situations where I feel like everything is against me. I know so many of us go through times when we are out of options and don’t know where to turn. I try to remember that anytime I don’t see a way out, God will repeatedly make a clear and precise way. I often try to find confidence in Him, remembering He has made promises. I’ve accepted that he will not take it away, so there is no way out but a way through.

I’ve been studying different stories in the bible about people who felt there was no hope but found out differently by having. In Genesis, there was a time when Moses led the children of Israel out of slavery and headed to the Promised Land. They didn’t get far before being close to their enemies, who wanted to enslave them again. They finally found themselves at the edge of the Red Sea, and it looked like there was no hope—but God! They cried to the Lord, and in Exodus 14:1,3, Moses said, “Fear not; stand still and see the salvation of the Lord which He will work for you today.” Then Moses stretched out his hand, and the Lord caused a great wind to part the water so the people could move forward on dry land. But that’s not all! When the enemy army tried to cross the sea behind them, the water enveloped and destroyed them. The Israelites were finally free. 

I serve a Heavenly Father who wants to be the hero of my story! He is a God of miracles! He loves to show Himself strong on behalf of the people who seek after Him. I keep standing and believing because I know Heavenly Father will move me through difficult situations so I can take hold and believe in miracles again. It’s not always easy to do; I am human.

“The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.” (Exodus 14:14)

It says in 1 Peter 2:9, “You have been chosen by God Himself.” There have been times when I’ve felt left out. I’ve been disregarded by people who have overlooked me. But now I always remember the One who matters most chooses me. I was not randomly chosen. God, on purpose, looked at me and said, “I chose her. She's my daughter. That’s who I want on My team.”

In my youth, I was told, “You’re just too tall or too skinny,” But God said, “You’re just the right size for Me.” I have felt or been made to feel, “You’re not talented. We don’t need you. You don’t have anything to offer.” But each time, Heavenly Father said, “You are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are talented. You are creative. You are anointed. You are smart. You are intelligent. You are amazing.” This has taken me a lifetime to understand. Those aches were real, but I can see the hand of God in my life by tracing back over those steps. I’m unsure why we hold on to the past so tightly. Driving home from the Mayo Clinic, feeling a little sorry for myself, I pulled into a Land Fill (weird, never been there before--it stinks.)

I parked, poured my heart out to the Lord, and dumped everything holding me back.

Dumped my fears today...

Looks like a lot of people dump here.

I know so many who have gone through more than their share of unfair situations. But here’s what I’ve learned. Even though life is not fair, God is fair. If we do not think something is wrong with us but instead start seeing ourselves as handpicked by God — valuable, lovable, with something great to offer, Heavenly Father says He will pay us back double. That means He’ll make the rest of our life twice as good as it would have been if that situation had never happened.

It’s time for me to dig my heels in. Not allowing what somebody did or didn’t do to steal my joy and cause me to go through life feeling not good enough, not talented, and not attractive. No, it’s time for me to realize I am a child of God. My value doesn’t come from people or accomplishments but from Him. I need to put my shoulders back. Hold my head up high. Live with confidence. God said He would take what was meant for harm and use it for my advantage. 

I’m trying to keep this attitude of faith, praying Heavenly Father will always give me the last laugh. I believe he’s trying hard to get me where I’m supposed to be. I may never run that marathon I’ve dreamed of, but God has something else for me to do. Heavenly Father has opened doors for me. A year ago, I thought I was on the road to recovery, complete healing. I soon found out the Lord had another mission for me to full fill. With all my heart, my Heavenly Father is bringing light into my life for a new journey and peace. The person I am becoming is so much bigger than any monetary means. Because my Heavenly Father knows me so well, he knew I would have difficulty looking in the mirror and liking who I saw staring back. In fact, He knows this will take years of aching, crying, and suffering before I will be ok with that image in the mirror. The knowledge I have learned is this, He never gives up on any of us.

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I AM

 

SUNDAY, JANUARY 18, 2015

I Am

The past couple of months have been a mix of emotions. I am so excited for our new grandbaby to arrive in February. Kaitlyn is so cute and pregnant, and I love watching Brian transitioning from husband mode to the responsibility of becoming a father. They are going to be fantastic parents.

I've decided Cleveland Clinic is a great facility, but not for me. It's too difficult to be away from my family. After my last surgery in December, I have not heard back from them. This makes me nervous. We have been told several times that there is a small window of opportunity when working with a nerve. After discussing my feelings with Heather and Doctor Barrs, we decided to get me in with a fantastic doctor at Mayo Clinic. He is employed by Rochester Mayo Clinic but resides here in Arizona. He works at the Maricopa County Hospital and surgeries at Mayo Clinic in Arizona, seeing nerve and trauma patients every Wednesday and FridaFridays blessed to get an appointment with him.

I will have another surgery on February 8 feel good about the procedure Dr. Lettieri will perform. With this first surgery, I will have a much longer, more risky surgery in a few months. I will be spending at least a week in the ICU. I am at peace with our decision. I know I will be questioned about why I am going through more surgeries. Several people have already told me that if my doctor wants to do any more, I should say to them no. It was suggested I should just be happy with how I look and move forward.

I have contemplated and pondered that bold statement for over a month now. I am not a quitter; I am strong and willing to do whatever it takes to regain my smile. Vain? I am not fighting against a time frame to work with this nerve. I know myself well enough to know I will have regrets if I don't try, and that window closes. I choose to leave this life with no shame. Once I am told there is nothing more they can do, I will let go, but until then, this is what I think is best.

I want to point out that only 2% of people with a nerve die for no reason. This is not caused by a stroke or Bell's palsy. Most of those patients have a complete restoration of facial paralysis. My nerve is dead. It is not returning to life, not with therapy or standing in front of the mirror daily, begging facial muscles to move. There is no comfort I get knowing I need to live with this. There are no support groups. I have felt alone and disconnected from my family and friends. I have shed more tears over this than ever over my cancer diagnosis. I will not apologize to anyone for how I feel. I would hope people would be considerate of the decisions I have to make; they are difficult.

Most of us, including me, have this conception of ourselves. None of us want to think we are concerned with the look on our faces. I am here to tell you unless you have been through this, a part of that 2%, you do not know how you would handle it. This has messed with my head and made me doubt myself. I'm trying so hard to be patient, to remember when I felt like most of you. The fact is, I am part of that 2%, and I do have to deal with it. This may take years for me to feel comfortable. So many people have asked me why I am involved with Nerium International. It has been a year now since I made that decision. Before the paralysis, I felt like I needed to get out of the cancer world, and instead of always thinking about my next doctor appointment, I reconnected with friends.

Little, my life's best decisions were to with self-development. I know, without a doubt, the Lord was watching me. He knew what this facial paralysis would do to me. I have learned to love myself on a level wholly different than I ever imagined I could. Happiness comes from within; it is a process of finding yourself. I am in that process now. I have friends who don't know anything about my cancer journey, who didn't know me before the facial paralysis. They have helped me along this road of self-awareness. My friends, who have known me for years and seen me through so much, will forever be embedded in my heart; I love them eternally.

I have nothing to offer Nerium International, the company will grow and flourish with or without me, but I need to thrive and grow right now. I feel a part of something special; the philosophy of the company I already believed in, the integrity and loyalty I think is something I have wanted to be a part of my entire life. This is so much more than money for me, and I can make a difference and help others do the same. Right now, this is where I need to be. I have relied on the Lord for 5 years to make the correct decisions. I will not turn my back on the feelings I have now. I know He is with me and blessing me along this journey. I am continually telling myself I am beautiful, a daughter of God, an influence, and important, I am going to survive, and I am choosing the right.

Find strength in Adversity

 

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2014

Finding strength in Adversity

I just can't seem to sleep tonight. I am in a hotel room in Dallas, listening to my favorite VonSlade family sing to me and then Josh Menden--I am tearful today. I have felt the Lord's love and trust in His plan for me. I have seen angels with different faces lift me up. Sometimes those angels come at the most unexpected times; today was one of those days. A man named Kym was my angel today, and I know the Lord directed him to me for a purpose. Kym has no idea how he helped me; I'm not sure he had any intention of helping me, but today because of Him. I learned that I DECIDE which life I want to lead; I am authoring the story of my life and getting to decide how it will end. Don't worry; it's a Happily Ever After completion.

Many of my readers know me, some not personally, but through my blog, you have listened to my stories, and we have laughed, cried, and ranted together. Sitting in this hotel, my heart is beating in my chest, and it's hard to hold back the tears; my faith has taken deeper and stronger roots than I ever imagined I could. I have never felt the peace I am feeling right now; I will never be the same as I was 5 years ago; there is no looking back; I am forging forward. I know what HOPE is, and I have so many good reasons to believe through my Faith and Hope; even if I am not entirely healed when a person looks at me with the naked eye, I am beginning to recover from the inside out, He knows the strength I have, and the purpose of all things happening in my life. Everyone around me who loves and genuinely cares for me sees the heart inside me, but I feel bad that they must look at me with anxiety and fear of hurting me. I am dealing with this adversity differently than when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. I'm not sure why, mostly because I, too, have bought into the belief a person's physical appearance is the first thing people see ... the face. I took my smile for granted, and I miss it. I want to laugh again, out loud with my friend Jenny; I want to jump on the Hotel beds and act like little girls again--but I fear that childhood innocence is gone; I know too much; I've seen and felt too much to ever go back to who I was before the paralysis.

I know the best is yet to come; I can look forward with faith, knowing I am responsible for being the REAL authentic ME, which hasn't changed. I wake up every day grateful for one that I woke up and two that it's always a good day to have a good day. I've climbed towering mountains and stumbled over a few hills; through every bend in the road, I feel like I had done what was right when no one was around; I have lived with integrity. I know my family, the girls, Chloe, and the boys, including Blake, Brian, Scott, and Jeremy. Eric, Recker, and Ezra are number one in my life. I want them to learn to open their hearts and listen harder, look for a good purpose, help others who have less than us, give a smile, or open a door, say please, and thank you--when we do this together, we shine bright for the world to see that we can make a change, each of us day by day, tiptoe by tiptoe those good deeds when practiced daily, will soon turn into HUGE GIANT steps towards the YOU you were meant to be. Choose your destiny, and remember your children are watching you; the choices you make, they will mimic because you are their HERO.

Why are you happy?

 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2014

Why are you happy?

I was recently asked, "why are you happy, and how do you remain happy?" The truth is, I must work on Happiness every day of my life. I did not intend to be diagnosed with late stages of breast cancer or the following side effects. I thought at the time it was a joke; I was still going to continue training for that Marathon I always wanted to run. I was happy; I had the life I always dreamed of, stay-at-home mom, room mother for all four of my children's classrooms, and I loved driving the girls to dance and Blake to baseball. Good friends and a wonderful family surrounded my life.

 I have always been a runner, kickboxer, cycler, core trainer, and weightlifter, this was my life, and I loved every second of it. The day I had to listen to a doctor explain what type of cancer I had, I did not respond; Eric was crying; it was such a blur. Why was he crying? This is not real; we will get a second opinion, and of course, I will continue to train because this is not real. Even now, when I look back at that day, how I responded amazes me: no tears or emotion. Blake was at the airport flying up to Utah to see his girlfriend Lecith, and Kaitlyn was living in Utah, going to school and loving life. She had found the man of her dreams, and I could not be happier with her choice. Eric called Blake and asked him to come home, but he wouldn't. He told Eric to just tell him what was up. When Eric told him, he was angry, thinking we knew for a while and just didn't tell him. I explained to him the doctor had just told me I had no idea. We did not hear from or see Blake for a week. He went to Utah and would not answer his phone. We then called Kaitlyn to tell her, and she reacted just like I did, with no emotion--however, Brian told me later that she was distraught. She thought like I did. This was just a little thing that would go away. Kayla, Jeremy, and Haleigh met us at the house, and I remember Eric standing in the kitchen sink. The kids and I were sitting at the table, and I just said, "I have cancer" Immediately, silence entered the room. Kayla started to cry, Eric was still crying, Jeremy was in a sullen mood, unsure how to react, but asked if I wanted a blessing. Haleigh, she was and is my baby girl. This announcement could not have come at a worse time for her. It was a week before her senior year of High School.

Since that day, I have had to learn to smile with my eyes and listen with my heart. I had no idea what would explode in our lives as the Villain took over. Suddenly, the "things" that were so important to me were insignificant. During the first three years, I never went one minute without thinking about the Villain; every appointment, bone scan, MRI, and test gave me anxiety. I still get anxious when I step off the elevator onto the third floor of the Mayo Clinic; I can smell the chemo, and the sickness is in the air.

Tonight, I just can't sleep. My mind is racing; I feel unprepared for this trial I am having now. I need some calmness in my life. I just want to fall asleep and be with Eric's mom and Dad, dream of being in a safe place, with no pain, no hurt, and in the arms of people who unconditionally love me. I must remind myself every day of the many blessings I have. I see my reflection in the mirror and want to cry. I don't expect anyone to understand. Now, I must learn to accept the person I see in the mirror and remember to smile with my eyes. I loved Elder Holland's talk about depression. I have read it repeatedly. Depression is REAL. If you have ever experienced it, you know what I am talking about. When Robin Williams took his life recently, much discussion was about his selfishness. I cannot completely understand his reasons. My heart was with him. How well he hid his depression and made us all laugh while he was struggling with his own demons.

A person cannot go through some of the things I have endured and be unchanged. To the people who feel discouraged, and misunderstood, have faith, hold onto the knowledge you have of Hope for a better day. I loved it when Elder Holland said, "Above all, never lose faith in your Father in Heaven, who loves you more than you can ever comprehend" It's incredible to me that the love He has for us never leaves. He will always love us. That love is unconditional. I am happy all the time. That simply would not be true, I struggle with it daily, but I know it is a choice, and it feels better than being depressed. You can wake up every day and decide to make the most of the life you have been given. It does not necessarily mean changing your world but how you look at it.

Spreading Hope & Happiness at ASU

 

FRIDAY, APRIL 18, 2014

Spreading HOPE & HAPPINESS at ASU

I was contacted by Dr. Compton a few weeks ago via email and asked if I would be willing to speak to her eager young students at ASU about my journey with cancer. I was terrified to do it; I couldn't imagine what I could say or do to help these students interested in medicine--I agreed to do it; I was listening to my heart on this request.
Gratefully, I listened to the still, small peaceful voice inside of me and said yes. Yesterday was the day I had nothing prepared, every time I started to write notes, it was silly; I thought, "why am I writing anything down? This is my life, I've lived it, I've felt it, and I'm surviving it"  Eric, the public speaker, said, "you need to write some bullet points of what you want to cover in case you forget".....I did, but I only had to refer to them once, and that was to quote something I had written on my blog about a night I was desperate for relief.
I actually loved being able to speak with these students and Dr. Compton. I did have a hiccup; the slide show that I thought was in the order of dates was not--so it made it difficult to show them my journey through a PowerPoint with pictures from my blog and FB. When I realized this would not work, I did the best I could and spoke from my heart.
I never thought I would be able to speak for an hour and 15 minutes, but I did it--I saw one student asleep, so pretty sure that what I had to say did not resignate with all of them. Eric came to support me, and my son in law Brian happened to be on campus. He, too, came to support me, and it was good to have them there--Brian is always so good about going out of his way for things like this, I love him for so many things, and this is just another.
Just a note about Dr. Compton, she is a lovely, beautiful woman inside and out. Hopefully, those students already know what a gem of a woman she is. Doctor, mentor, and instructor. I felt at peace, I felt strong, and most of all, I felt BRAVE.

Dr. Compton and I. She is so gracious and kind

Some of the students--the girls are sisters from the Ivory Coast...One just got accepted to Medical School the other headed off for a fellowship at Harvard. Full Scholarship, such smart, lovely girls. These are our future Doctors.

Eric loved speaking with them in French.

Curve Balls

 

SUNDAY, JUNE 16, 2013

Curve Balls

Man, life throws many curve balls, I was not expecting one that came flying at me last week.  I was Fired from my volunteer work.  Not the accomplishment I had expected, and it was devastating for me. I loved that job; I loved the people I worked with, and I especially loved all the patients who touched my life. I violated HIPAA law and took pictures of patients. First off, I just want to say they all had my permission to take their picture, and 2nd I would never post something about a patient without their consent. However, I recently had my blog redesigned, and all the journal entries I had written and drafted, were posted public without me knowing.

  They were written a year or year and a half ago, when I was asked not to mention the facility that I was volunteering for or the patients, I immediately drafted all of them for my children to have, and for myself to look back and remember. For those of you who do not know about drafting, it is a journal you write and never post for all to see but is kept secret and I eventually wanted my blog to be made into a book for my children, so I did as I was asked, and I took all the posts off my blog immediately.  To be honest, I have a ton of drafts, things I don't want the world to see but have saved for my family to read long after I'm dead and gone.

When I went to my "volunteer" job 2 weeks ago, I was called into a meeting where I was "let go" I was told if an employee had done this, they would be "let go," so they felt it was time for me to be "let go" I asked them if I could delete the entries. The answer was "you have 3 days to get them off your blog, or we will be forced to file a federal suit"  so sad, I took off my scrubs and handed in my badge out the door I went feeling like I had just been defeated by the world, I cried uncontrollably for hours, well actually the crying went on for days, I finally got it controlled to a slow tearful drip after a few days.  When I got home, I asked our attorney if this could happen to me; he said NO, that the facility I was volunteering for could not sue me for violating HIPAA laws the patient would have to be the one to sue me, --and since every one of those patients or their caregivers still email me regularly, (except for one), I contacted each person who I had ever posted about, got written permission from them or in a couple cases the patients had passed on, and I got permission from their caregivers, who by the way also asked me for a copy of what I had written, by this time I had already deleted them.  However, I told them once I had their written permission, I would send them a copy of what I had handwritten.  Each was so grateful, I had journaled, and each had already known about the experiences and the intimate talks I had with them, so it was not a surprise to any of them when I read the journaling to them.

 I'm not sure what this world is coming to, I do understand the HIPAA laws, and I do understand the right to have privacy, but I would never post something without first asking the patient. There was only one post that I had written that I felt was imposing without permission; names were never mentioned, and if this person had found it on the world wide web (1 in a billion) They could have guessed it was them I was talking about, but there were no pictures or proof.

I learned a lot from this experience, and although I think "they" were being a bit dramatic in their decision, I know the Lord has something else planned for me.  It's important for me to be in a place where I am not only needed but appreciated for the service I love to give.

My Visit with Dr. Northfelt

 

SUNDAY, MAY 26, 2013

My visit with Dr. Northfelt

This past week my husband turned 55 years old--we decided to go to Paris for the week. We always have an enjoyable time together, but I don't think we will go back in May again. It was rainy and cold. We went to my "happy place" to ride bikes, and it was pouring down. No bicycles and it is freezing. We walked around, drank some hot chocolate, and talked about having my ashes spread there in that beautiful place--they painted the house/chateau a red and white color. I liked it better when it was just white--Eric spoke to the guard at the gate, and he said for a fee, we can rent out an area or room for family--could it be that he is finally warming up to the idea of my cremation?

Porte Jaune my "happy place"

the walkways and bike trails in Porte Jaune

This is the cute little hot cocoa/sandwich shop we love

At the river, usually, there are giant white swans

the private chateaux

Paris is and always will be "our place" I love spending time with Eric in Paris, and it never gets old. We have our favorite places we like to go to, but mostly just spending the days alone together holding hands and walking through the beautiful parks and streets is the best.

Frenchie

Notre Dame picture for Dr. Northfelt

These are what I save up all my sugar for--days to look
forward to--pastries are my favorite sweets, and I will
wait a year. If I know, I can have them.

I'm not always forthcoming regarding my visits at Mayo Clinic, especially with my family. I just don't want them to worry--if there is a concern, I will tell them, but to go for regular appointments with my doctors and for tests and more tests, I usually just don't give any reports. I saw Dr. Northfelt just before we left for Paris (he is my medical oncologist). We visited for a while; lots of questions, few answers. No, I am not cancer free. He asked if I wanted to change the cancer medicine I take every day and see if I would get fewer side effects. My question was, "what does it do?" his answer was, "blocks estrogen," then I replied, "What does the medicine I'm taking now do" His answer was, "Blocks estrogen." we both looked at each other and laughed, he shrugged his shoulders. All he could say was, "1/2 of my patients do really well, the other half don't, but they all have side effects" I then smiled and said, "well, OK then, let's try it," until I went to get the prescription filled and found out it costs $299.00 pp, and that was with my insurance, I decided to stick with the original medicine and live with the side effects if I was 100% sure there would be a change for the good I would pay it. Still, I'm not willing to take the chance of even more side effects and a massive possibility of no changes. I emailed Dr. Northfelt from Paris and told him, and he replied back that my decision was reasonable and to please send him a picture.

I am coming up on my 4th anniversary of being diagnosed with breast cancer. I'm grateful to still be alive and know I still have a long road ahead of me but don't we all? Life is Good for me right now.

Move a Mountain

 

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2013

Move a Mountain

Sunday, my daughter Kaitlyn, and her husband Brian were asked to speak in church about FAITH. I was moved by their talks; Kaitlyn told of her respect and love for the FAITH her brother showed as he went out to serve a mission for the Lord in the Dominican Republic. She spoke of how he left behind so much as he journeyed out into the unknown. Relying entirely on the strength within himself and the Lord to help him through two years. When he left, he was twenty-one years old and had been struggling with some of his own demons and trials. Through those struggles, he was blessed with the ability to pull himself out of the hole he dug himself into by moving mountains with his Faith. She continued to explain to him the great blessings that would be his if he would obey and follow the gospel plan the Lord had set in motion for him.  

I know he was under the amount of worry and pain as he left our home. Still, I will never forget the look of pride when he walked into the MTC--There was a little bit of fear in both him and me. Oh, how my heart ached for him, yes, I knew Blake was worthy of being there, but that was not what put me in such anguish. Being his mother, I knew it would be the most rewarding thing he had ever accomplished and the most challenging two years of his life. The people he loved the most in the world would be facing some life-changing moments in their lives. He would not be attending his sister's wedding, the birth of our first grandchild, or the graduation of his youngest sister. But the most troubling part for me was what had I done to prepare him? I felt helpless. I, too, had to put all my Faith in the Lord and rely on him to protect and watch over my son, to lead him in direct passages that would eventually bring him home to us safe and worthy to stand as a witness. My eyes were constantly teary, wondering how he was doing, knowing he was worried about my diagnosis of cancer and that he could not be here to comfort me. He didn't know that I felt his loving arms around me on more than one or two occasions. He showed tremendous amounts of Faith while he served. I am still overwhelmed by some of the mission stories he has told me. He left unsure of the gospel, uncertain of his future, and insecure if he would ever see his mother again. Still, he came home with a perfect knowledge that the gospel is true, knowing that his future is bright if he continues to follow God's plan for him, and he came home to a mom that welcomed him with open arms and a huge heart. Kaitlyn is right, Blake is excellent, and I continue to thank Heavenly Father every day for the great man he has turned out to be--

Brian's talk was equally touching; as I listened to him speak, tears filled my eyes and eventually streamed down my cheeks. As I listened intently to the words that came out of his mouth. These words were not ordinary. He was telling the story of my life without using my name. I was prepared to hear him speak about his grandfather, who undoubtedly taught Brian the principle of FAITH. Brian and Kaitlyn have talked about him several times with sweet regard to his knowledge of the gospel, and I know he has been a forcing influence in Brian and Kaitlyn's lives.
However, in this talk he gave about FAITH, he was telling the story of a young baby girl born into a broken family. parents who were battling one with another, her father who, because of drugs and alcohol, led him to the pathway to prison. When her mother was remarried, this new father's role in her life abused her physically, mentally, and sexually. Tears began to run down Brian's cheeks, and I could hear the lump in his throat as he tried to continue with the story. He talked about how this daughter of God had made promises to the Lord and stayed worthy and close to her Heavenly Father yet abuse and trials still are a big part of her life. When she was in her twenties, another test of Faith came when she faced the death of her younger brother, yet she continued to trust in the Lord and give her heart and soul to the church and others she served. As Brian was saying these words aloud, I was becoming increasingly agitated in my seat, the anxiety was starting to surface, and I was not sure I would be able to hide it from Eric. It was like watching your life flash before your eyes, but from a different perspective than what you actually lived. It sounded so easy as Brian described my life. Not necessarily easy was the life, but easy was the FAITH he told me as having. It has caused me to think the last few days, do I have that FAITH engraved in my soul? I certainly don't remember feeling as though I was showing great Faith; it felt more like survival mode I was in--negotiations were happening daily with the Lord--"get me out of this alive, and I will serve you, I promise." 
Brian continued with his talk, speaking of the cancer I was diagnosed with, I really had no idea that my cancer had been seen by anyone as a FAITH builder...I know I speak a lot about having HOPE and FAITH, but never realized those words have penetrated the souls of some of my family members.

In challenging times, it is so easy to give up and turn away from the very thing that can help us through the fiercest adversity of our lives. I know it is impossible to predict an end to our trials and problems of life, but I know I can promise this bit of HOPE if we have FAITH in Jesus Christ, the hard times, as well as the good times, can be a great blessing to us, this strength will give us FAITH to move a mountain.

Mayo Clinic Cancer Symposium

 

THURSDAY, JANUARY 24, 2013

Mayo Clinic Cancer Symposium

2nd annual Mayo Clinic Symposium was held at the Marriott just a mile from the Phoenix Campus of Mayo Clinic. I attended again this year. Seeing my team of doctors was good, and ready-to-present information was good.

Dr. Northfelt, my med/oncologist, and myself

Some of the information I learned from the meetings was new to me, and some I already knew, but this is the reason I like to attend these symposiums so that I can learn all I can about my disease and what the new techniques or statistics are.

I learned that 200,000 new cases per year are reported of breast cancer, and the side effects of radiation are some that I am still dealing with. 

Lymphedema ✓

Lung inflammation

Fatigue ✓

Depression and anxiety ✓

Chest wall and or breast tenderness ✓

Breast swelling ✓

Skin burning

I only have five of those seven side effects, so I feel blessed to not have to deal with lung inflammation or burning skin anymore.

I learned that Radical mastectomies no longer are performed and have not been performed on breast cancer patients since the 1970s. They no longer perform these because the surgical procedures have been incredibly advanced since then. In a radical mastectomy, they used to have to take everything, including the bone surrounding the area, this left women with horrible battle scars. I had a Bi-lateral mastectomy. Both breasts were removed with all the surrounding tissue but not bone. This allows the surgeons to reconstruct more efficiently, with much better results.

When someone has a lumpectomy, they only have a 1.9% of recurrence. a single
mastectomy 1.1% recurrence, and only 0/3% of cancer patients who have a lump in one breast will get another in the other breast--in Dr. Kreymerman, "they are sisters, not twins."
BRCA 1 or 2 mutation only has a 30% 10-year recurrence in the other breast.
Only 25% of breast cancer diagnoses are women under 80.

Some great things to come are:
Cancer Vaccines
the studying of tumor clones
DCIS vaccines
Her2 antibodies

One bit of information I thought was interesting, 15% of patients who go through the cancer process will get Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. As you have been through a war, the fear and anxiety of the return of cancer or having to continue to deal with the side effects of cancer treatments can literally put one's body into traumatic stress.

With recurrent patients, 45% of women have treatable anxiety and depression within the 1st 3 months of 2nd diagnosis. This is a mountain to climb but more terrain to walk through.

Did you know

55% stress over financial problems during treatment
46% cut back on food to be able to pay their bills
6% lose their homes and have to relocate
50% are not comfortable talking about any of these symptoms, even to their doctors
50% of patients do not share all of what they are feeling or their fears with caregivers or family
history of abuse, physical, mental, or sexual, will increase the levels of anxiety and will not be
shared with doctors
most women post-treatment will have low sexual desire and vaginal dryness and feel embarrassed about asking or talking about it with their doctor.

I was not surprised that most women do not want to share many intimate details with their doctors but was reassured knowing I am one of them and it is normal.

I am still waiting to hear back from Mayo about my ultrasound and low white cell count--no news to report.