Wildflowers - Tom Petty

...this past weekend...

You belong among the wildflowers

You belong in a boat out at sea
Sail away, kill off the hours
You belong somewhere you feel free

 

Run away, find you a lover
Go away somewhere all bright and new
I have seen no other
Who compares with you

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
You belong with your love on your arm
You belong somewhere you feel free

Run away, go find a lover
Run away, let your heart be your guide
You deserve the deepest of cover
You belong in that home by and by

...

You belong somewhere close to me
Far away from your trouble and worry

You belong somewhere you feel free...

 "...And I tell you, ask and you will receive;
seek and you will find;
knock and the door will be opened to you. 
For everyone who asks, receives;
and the one who seeks, finds;
and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. 
What father among you would hand his son a snake
when he asks for a fish? 
Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? 
If you then, who are wicked,
know how to give good gifts to your children,
how much more will the Father in heaven
give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?"  Luke 11:10-13

Intercession. 1) prayer, petition or entreaty in favor of another

I've been scouring the internet looking for a succinct way to explain intercessors (intercessors are the people actually performing the intercession mentioned the title). I think most typical people who believe in God (either as a personal or powerful force) believe that asking God to help us (by talking, thinking or hoping in our hearts) will help in some way.

My own personal theory (excuse me while I leap over thousands of years of theology) is that most religious people believe that praying for others will help them somehow. Even if we all can't agree on who or how, we want to help and we want to go to the Biggest Person we can find to get it.

I'm Catholic.

Like all religious (or even spiritual) people, my relationship with the Divine is tangled in what I consider a glorious mess of Tradition and Love and hurt and Culture and history and family and Grace. I love it, my religion. But only because it led me to Jesus. And only because it keeps me near Him.

And all of this is just a silly preface in order for me to explain what Catholics mean when we say, "I'm praying to this Saint (or this person) for my healing..." Because I've been wanting to add some info about my "intercessors in heaven" and I always stop because the info can get caught in the above mentioned "glorious mess." It's so much easier to say, "I feel terrible," than to explain two millennia of history (heretically, most likely). I promise to try and be brief!

The Basics:
1) Catholics believe that only Jesus has the power to work miracles.

2) Still, Catholics ask everyone to pray to Jesus for them (your mom, 16 prayer groups, their aunt Betty from Iowa, your brother's ex-girlfriend who you see at the grocery store)

3) Catholics believe nobody is "dead" (your body dies, your soul hopefully goes to Heaven. The other options are a story for a different day)

4) Catholics do believe that everyone in heaven is a Saint, which is why we have an entire feast day to celebrate the "unnamed Saints" called All Saints' Day (the day after Halloween). But to be recognized by name as a Saint is a big deal to us Catholics. We want proof. There is a lengthy process for the Church to declare a Saint by name (more info here), but what matters for the sake of this blog is that there need to be two miracles that can be traced back to the intercession of a person in heaven in order for that person to be declared (named) a Saint.

5) back to #1. We know it's all about Jesus, but we're still asking the people in closer proximity to Him to pray for us (because #2 and #3)

6) The cool, full-circle thing is that when the miracle comes, we also get to use it to help raise up a brother or sister in heaven. To prove he or she is there to the entire world. I know most people don't care about all of this...but all of us are going somewhere, so we might want to consider at least what we do think.

My family and I have chosen three really specific intercessors.  I want to give short backgrounds in case this post has spoken to you and you would ask for their intercession as well (if you're still here - this is a long one):

Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati (a young athlete who loved the poor born April 6, 1901 d. July 4, 1925 - C's patron Blessed)

Servant of God Julia Greeley (born into slavery, freed during the Civil War, she came to Colorado and worked for the Governor's wife. She had a great love for the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the poor, children, fire fighters and religious sisters. d 1918.) The town of Greeley is named for her.

Bridget Kelly Sullivan (born Oct 1, 2002. "Bridgey" was born with a very rare condition known as Aicardi. She is the niece of one of my closest friends. Her parents didn't remember that my maiden name was Bridgette Kelly, but I always felt a kinship with Bridge because we shared a name. Bridgey has amazing parents and an adoring older sister. She lived a full, beautiful life surrounded by people who love her. Bridget died on March 10, 2019.  It was only a month and a half or so before I found out about my diagnosis and one of the first people who came to mind was Bridge. I immediately asked her to tell Jesus about me and ask Him to let me stay here for just a little while.

A different aunt of Bridge (also a friend from college) heard that I was asking Bridgey's intercession and so she sent me these pictures. I have them next to my bed and I ask Bridge to pray for my healing every night. How could Jesus resist that face?

Long post. All is well. B

Chemo Recovery

Well...as previously posted, chemo went as well as I could expect. The next 3 days were pretty rough - a lot of strange pains, extreme fatigue - but less side effects than I worried about - that could come with later treatment cycles. The best comparisons of the actual feelings are a terrible hangover or a difficult first trimester of pregnancy. Maybe even a really bad flu -  but the feeling that my body was not my own sticks with me even as I start to bounce back. It's hard to know what to eat. It's hard to want to eat. It's hard not to yell at every single person I spoke with. It was hard not to irrationally hate the sweet nurse who removed my pump on Thursday. It was easiest to watch one of the dumbest, mind-numbing shows ever created, Below Deck, and wonder if I would ever complain that my caviar wasn't beluga. Spoiler, no.

I have to watch shows that I hate because I'm so sad that I have to spend afternoons watching shows at all. I don't want to make a mistake and end up hating a show I would have really liked if it weren't for my chemo-haze.

Today, we are all headed back up to the cabin. Because it's cooler there and easier to take long walks. Because it's quiet and doesn't have internet. Because riding a 4-wheeler through the National Forest is so much like a prayer. It's the most beautiful place in the world.

O Blood and Water,
which gushed forth from the Heart of Jesus
as a fount of Mercy for us, I trust in You.

Photos of the cabin deck, where I pray and we sit:

Kate's Chemo Rules

I have a dear friend from California who has two beautiful daughters, Riley and Kate. Last February, Kate's best friend, Abby (she also went to preschool with our C) was diagnosed with leukemia. Kate is a very funny little girl who deflects with humor like her mother and myself. When her mom told Kate that I had cancer, she looked at her mom with wide serious eyes and said, "I have some advice for her." Kate is 10 and I still can't get through the list without crying.

Here are Kate’s 10 Ways of Getting Through Chemo (in her own words):

1. Always keep your port clean. Use non-latex bandages because your skin will be more sensitive with all the different medicines you will be taking.
2. Sometimes you can taste the chemo that they give you through the port, which is weird. It will give you an odd taste in your mouth so bring life savers or something that you can suck on like a mint to help get the taste out of your mouth.
3. Go easy on yourself. If you’re tired, sit down. Don’t be upset if you can’t do cartwheels anymore. It will all come back, but it’s important to rest when you need to rest.
4. Bake. It’s a fun activity that you can do when your immunity is down and you don’t have the energy to leave the house. Plus, it’s something that the boys can help you with and you’ll all have fun eating afterwards.
5. Definitely sign up for Uber eats (do they have that in Colorado?). When cooking is just too much, ordering online and having it arrive at your door is like the best thing ever.
6. Get a Nintendo switch if the boys don’t already have one. It’s fun to play while you’re getting chemo and when you want to lay around at home, you can play against the boys.
7. Don’t hide information from the boys. They can handle it. The doctors explain everything to Abby and then she explains it to me so, really, we can handle it. And don’t be afraid to ask for professional help if you need it. Abby has a therapist and the nurses have come to our class to explain everything that she’s going through—like when she comes back to school, she’ll still have a port so playing dodgeball is not the best idea.
8. Use hand sanitizer all the time. Like everyone in the house needs to use it. When Mr. Grady comes home from work, he will need to shower and wear freshly laundered clothes before hugging Mrs. Grady. And the boys, if they leave the house, will need to do the same when they come home. Keeping germs away from Mrs. Grady is very important and everyone needs to cooperate. I never visit Abby without showering first and I know this can be a pain, but her life is more important than the inconvenience of a shower.
9. Pray. I pray for Abby every day. I recommend the St. Peregrine novena. It’s a nine-day prayer that the whole family can do. I got my class to say it for Abby—not everyone gets it, but that doesn’t matter because I get it. Also, drink Holy Water every day. Don’t we have Lourdes water we can send her? (Yes, we do by the way).
10. Plan for the future. When Abby is better we are going to go to Italy and order noodles with mustard. That may not be something Mrs. Grady wants to do, but, still, it’s important to believe that you’re going to get better.

I'm 100% in on the going to Italy thing. I think I'll have butter on my noodles, though. Thank you, Kate. You might not get famous from my blog post, but it'll happen one way or another. Thanks for everything. 

Mrs. Grady

C, Ethan and Kate in PreK

Kate now (she plans to shave her head when Abby returns to school in the fall) 

Down Day 1

These are the days I am making myself add just a short blog. The boys and I went to early Mass and they went to playdates and I have been asleep most of the day. I have a headache and I feel basically nauseous and eating is hard. I had some dried plantains, chicken soup and coconut water from Karen. Nothing is feeling great and I'm still connected to this final chemo pump until tomorrow at noon. I try not to think about the fact that everyone says subsequent treatments are worse as the drug accumulates in my system. If you know a cancer survivor, reach out to them today, please. And get a mammogram and a colonoscopy no matter how old you are.

On a bright note, the nurses assured me that the worst is only a couple of days and then I will have weeks of "better."

Hoping for better in the next few days.

"...affiction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit..." Romans 5:4 & 5

First Chemo Down

I am writing right after my first chemo treatment because I know that a number of people are worried and I will feel better knowing I let family and friends know before I go to bed for awhile.

All is well. The nurses (and many people who've been through it) assured me that the anxiety before the first chemotherapy makes it one of the most difficult.  "But it's mostly mental..." They said. And, because I would describe myself as "mostly mental" this was true of my experience too.

I currently feel tired and like I just got off a long plane ride (for work - or for the end of a vacation). Everything was fine and just as it was supposed to be, but I'd rather be sleeping. I did fall asleep on a visitor, which makes me sad. I will most likely plan on sleeping through the next few cycles.

But here is a quick run-down of the day (Now with pictures!)

Started the day at 8am. They accessed the port below my clavicle. The paperwork said I was 5'5" and 150 lbs. Feel free to laugh as I bet those were my stats when I was in 8th grade. They had to call my doctor to get a correct level of medications. It took about an hour, but was fine since we had nowhere to be. 

I've heard that Chemo treatment rooms vary in terms of what they are like. At my cancer center, there were 10 or so reclining chairs, a snack bar, water stations and the nurses were very very nice. It was a little like a high-end nail salon where everyone is sad (not really. No one seemed super sad). Here was my view for a lot of the day. So cute. 

The bag where my meds were kept before being used. The irony was not lost on me. 

Two of my 3 chemo meds and some other stuff used in my treatment  protocol. If you click on the bag with the red sticker, it  reads:"Hazardous Materials." I actually said to the nurse, "kinda freaks a girl out that you're dripping that into my veins."  I am totally opposed to chemo drugs, but I will fight this stupid cancer with everything I can and until one of you builds one of those Sci-fi "insta-heal" chambers, this is part of my best bet. 

Before I leave, I get a pump filled with "5FU" (also not lost on me or my sense of humor) that I wear for 3 days as it slowly drips medicine into me. I wore bad clothes for a picture contrast, but it's like a little purse connected to the port at my shoulder. If you're keeping score, I now have 1. bag and 1. chemo pump. I'm like a traveling gypsie.  But the smile on my face reflects how I feel. Tired, OK, and happy to have the First One down. 

An old friend (PH) sent me this prayer this morning and I wanted to say Thank You by posting it. "May every cancerous cell be cast out and replaced with good ones" is some good praying right there :)

Lastly, I had a beautiful talk with a Priest friend and he said, "I think you just need to spend time in quiet letting God love you. You need to feel that He genuinely LOVES you." And I did that a lot yesterday, just let God and Shawn love me. And all of today was a bonus.

19th Anniversary

Reckless Love (Cory Asbury) 

Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me

You have been so, so good to me 

Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me

You have been so, so kind to me

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine

I couldn't earn it, an I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me

You have been so, so good to me

When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me

You have been so, so kind to me

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine

I couldn't earn it, an I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Mural from the Holy Land of the woman touching Jesus' cloak. 

Chemo tomorrow... Love today

We have a plan (yeah!)

Yesterday, Shawn and I met with the oncologist originally recommended by my colon specialist (who is seriously Dougie Howser, who graduated from medical school at 16!!). I was always really hoping to like her (Dr. Np) because I really like Dr. Dougie and they had been consulting together on my case from the beginning. Dr. Np (oncologist) was on a family trip/visit to India, so I had only met her quickly in the hospital after surgery. Yesterday, Shawn and I were able to spend some time with Dr. Np and I am really glad that we did.

She was just the right person immediately. She asked if I wanted to start chemo right then, which makes her my kind of "let's get this going" lady. She was totally open to how I'm eating, some wacky supplements I'm taking and she actually said, "We both need to be looking out for new things. There are so many great advancements. We need to try all we can" (paraphrase, since she sounds more like an actual doctor). She repeated a lot of what the oncologist said on Tuesday, but how she phrased it just worked for me. Everyone said it would be like that when I met the right oncologist and I was incredibly scared that it never would...so I asked God for a sign and He gave it to me (it's personal).

I've never had to choose someone who would have my life in his or her hands before.

But now I have, and chemotherapy will definitely begin Tuesday morning, July 23rd. I'll have it every two weeks (on Thursdays after this first one-off Tuesday). I'll have 4 cycles of chemo (until September, basically) and then repeat all my scans and tests and see where we go from there (a lot of options).

My prayer is that the chemo basically 'washes' it all away. Literally, all of the cancer.  It's a journey and we're walking it...so I'll just stop there since that's the only part of the road I can see right now. When I try to guess the road ahead, I just get spooked...so I am disciplining myself to face only what I can see. Because God is always in the present moment. So we'll stay together.

The rest of the post is pictures. I have received SO much from everyone. So much prayer, so much love...even presents at just the right time. I am really humbled and grateful and I'll just keep saying that until there is a better word ;)

My Aunt Mary's statue (she passed away when we were kids). I was talking to her (aunt Mary) and asking for her prayers right before my surgery, and then my cousin (her daughter) texted this picture!! 

There is a ladies' quilting group at my Church that makes quilts for the sick.  The quilts are laid out for the entire parish and there are tiny strings that people tie and say a prayer and then sign the card. This is my quilt. So blessed to receive this!! 

One of my new besties saying Mass for me in our back yard. 

One of my college besties saying Mass for me at a college reunion of our male friends (in New York)

Our boys attend a summer camp here (Frassati - actually a few camps - each for a different sport) and at the camp, the campers are encouraged to write the name of a person on their wrist. The camper offers up their hard work and discipline as a prayer for that person. This is the son of a friend of mine, who offered up his camp (and his cross country practice afterward!) for me. Tears...seriously.

The head of the camps chose another guy (who also can use the prayers :) Many of the kids' friends (and the boys themselves) have been sporting our family's names all summer. When you see a 7 year old with your name on her wrist, it's really too much. 

A dear friend went to pray for us on her vacation in 🇲🇽 Mexico

Sent from the aforementioned Tom, who is just too funny. 

Close family friends are in the Holy Land and have been lighting candles every where. 

A sister of a friend (who is also a friend, but so surprised to receive this!!) sent love from California

Jule...I forgot to add the very first flowers ;) 

My aunt sent me some of my favorite things to read during chemo (you know me too well...) 

Even Shawn's company sent me the worlds' most comfy blanket and a bag to carry things to chemo. 

More tomorrow even though we're heading to the cabin for the weekend (no internet or cel phones...so don't be offended!) 

Jesus, I trust in You

"I'm a Survivor! 'Aint gonna give up..."

I promise that not all of my posts will be titled with songs. This is totally a coincidence.

First, if you are just looking for an update and no anecdotes, I am fully healed regarding my colostomy and "the bag." I can eat anything, go swimming, and start chemo. Right now, I am scheduled to start chemo Tuesday morning (7/23). I'll post more before then, especially if that changes. But that's what's up for now.

Next, because the last post ended on a bit of a somber note, I wanted to write quickly (dinner is cooking) and briefly explain my meetings with survivors from last week.

I don't want to leave out the first survivor I spoke with, my dear friend, Tom (Tommy all through high school). He's basically a brother of mine - one of my oldest and dearest friends - who is currently surviving "Lymphoma with subtype GCB." Tom was the first person I called after informing my family of my cancer. I wanted to hear from someone "on the other side of the fight" as it were, someone who understood what the cliff looks like when you find yourself standing there. Also, I needed to talk to someone who knows me. Someone who will sing his part of "Don't you want me baby?" every. single. time. and never allow me to feel stupid as our spouses look on with kind humiliation. Tom just said, "I'm so sorry," and then launched into how cancer had changed his life. Always hopeful, always positive, he knew what to say so that I could see the little bridge across the chasm. Some of the things he said still really help. And I do think of calling him when I wake up in a panic at 4am, just like he offered.

Weeks later, after the rabbit hole of internet information, I needed to connect with more people who battled and won. I won't share their personal and inspirational stories in total here. I spoke to two ladies on the phone for over two hours and I had coffee with a survivor who was already a dear friend before either of us was diagnosed. All three of them had such amazing journeys. I will share a list of some of the things they shared:

1) Andrea - currently surviving brain cancer after doctors found a large tumor. She has 10 (yes) children and had to say good-bye to each of them before her initial surgery. She and I spoke for a long time about raising children while fighting cancer...the topic nearest to my heart right now. Andrea has been in "remission" (they don't say that for brain cancer...but basic idea) for 10 years. When I told her I was worried that my life would be all about cancer for years she answered, "At least you'd have that time with your boys." The other comment of hers that sticks with me is "I am so grateful for every small thing."

2) Zoe - 39 years old with a 5 and 8 year old. Zoe was diagnosed with my same (colorectal) cancer at 36. She had 6 rounds of chemo, 60% of her liver removed (it grows back), radiation and then complications to tumor removal that ended up with her having an Ostomy bag (like myself) for 8 weeks. She's a dancer, and exercise instructor. She taught her workout class one day a week throughout her chemo treatments. Incredible. What struck with me was when she said, "Cancer has the power to bring beauty into our life because it is so hard." Zoe had a lot of practical advice for my actual healing journey, which I'll share more in a later post. I was inspired because our stories are very similar...she was Stage IV and she's been cancer free for 2 years.

3) My final survivor (so far) is my friend, Karen. Many people reading this will know her, so I won't share too much except to say that it was so wonderful just to sit outside at the coffee shop and get tears in our eyes when one of us would share. Karen and I share children who are similar ages, teaching as careers, and a deep faith and hope in Christ. I know we'll have many more conversations and all I could think was how happy I was that we had slept near each other as chaperones on the 6th grade Confirmation retreat two years ago. I literally peppered her with questions about her chemotherapy and what it was like to have cancer. She was gracious and honest in her answers then and kind and generous in our conversation two years later as I look over the cancer cliff with her.

These four people show that people are surviving and coming back from the scary places. All of them said it was HARD...but all of them were grateful and saw a renewed sense of purpose in their lives AFTER.  I am just so grateful for them. For everyone who has reached out with his or her story (there are more...) Thank you.

Jesus, I trust in You.
A collection of pictures of some of the flowers I've received. They were well-tended by Shawn and my mom while I was recovering. Shawn kept the flowers from R and T on his bedside table. He was really touched, so thank you.

"Waiting is the Hardest Part..."

Good old Tom Petty (God rest his soul). He must have understood waiting because he has an entire song about it..

The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you get one more yard
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part
Yeah, the waiting is the hardest part

I've received a few phone calls (or Shawn has) in the last few days and I realized I never updated the blog about the plans for this week. 

Last week (blog post coming), I spent most of the week at swim meets with some final baseball games thrown in (yeah, life!!). When I wasn't there, I was calling/texting/having coffee with cancer survivors to chat about common and uncommon experiences. 

Here's one of my favorites :) More on those visits tomorrow. 

Last week held both a lot of peace as well as information that was difficult to digest. Hearing survival stories is incredible when I realize all that these women and men have done to stay alive. Even if sometimes scary (for me), all of the stories were hopeful and beautiful and we were talking to each other, so I'm going to call that a win. So many resources - so much love - the cards continue to pour in and now GIFTS!! (not a ploy for more gifts). The food is endless and the prayers are sustaining us. 

Because we all know "It Follows", this week will be a bit different. Shawn and I meet with two oncologists and my colon specialist (different days, thank you, God). We are triple-checking the options before going forward...So no chemo is scheduled for this week...but most likely the week after (although I refuse to have chemo on my 19th anniversary 7/22).

Our first meeting was today with an oncologist recommended by a friend in the same practice (they are actually all in the same practice because it's considered one of the best in Denver). He was a lovely man and we finally got a big chunk of information regarding my cancer. I am fairly certain that the info will be the same on Thursday and I'll spare you info on my colon tomorrow :). 

(The one bright spot is that our friend - also an oncologist - came out to hang out with us after our appointment and made us laugh and laugh and offered help with our kids and I asked him to pick them up at camp at noon and it was all so normal. Thank you, Bob J). 

Most recent info (some repetitious): I have a tumor on my rectum (avg size); two swollen (probably cancerous) lymph nodes near the tumor; I have a spot on my left hip (probably cancer); two on my liver (small) and a bunch of spots on my lungs too small to diagnose. (You'll quickly learn that there is A LOT of guessing in cancer). Standard practice is to shoot chemo at these suckers and hope they shrink. There are A GOOD AMOUNT of colorectal-cancer related terms which can impact what type of chemo I get or if I am eligible for immunotherapy (a lot like chemo but does things a little differently). I am not a candidate for the immunotherapy at this point because of my genes (please email if you'd like specifics) but I have some other tests to come in which will confirm the third type of chemo (I'll have 3) they should give me. I can start the other 2 before the tests come in, so we'll see. 

Because a number of people have been asking/pestering (ha ha - this is for you, Steph), I have completely switched my diet to plant-based with no processed foods, no gluten, dairy or refined sugar. Although our medical doctors have all said "there is no clear evidence" surrounding this, all of the survivors I've spoken with (and a number of those studied in a book I'll share soon) did a total overhaul of their diet throughout cancer treatment and after. I am incorporating A LOT of supplements (with more to come), 40oz of fruits and vegetables juiced daily (because of the bag); and daily exercise to get oxygen pouring through my system. I meet with an acupuncturist next week and will discuss all of that more later. 

Lastly (because Dr B wouldn't go get the kids from camp since he had to save people today), I want to put out there that this is really serious. I know it is. The doctors are very positive but always say, "The number of survivors is small." But there is no state of being called "dying." You are either ALIVE  or dead. I am alive until I am not. And so are you. 

How's It Going? #1

A number of people have asked/called/texted this question over the last week or so and even though they usually quickly add, "silly question," it's really not. 

In typical me fashion, my first thought of an answer is a reference to a movie (this is NOT a recommendation, seriously). Specifically, a scary movie out a few years ago titled,  "It Follows." The premise is that an embodied evil follows people around in order to get close enough to kill them. The shape it takes can look like anyone and the people being followed can only tell that it's the "Being" because it stares straight at them and walks toward them continuously. It will not stop, so characters are constantly on the run. Whenever someone asks me how I'm doing, I always want to answer, "It Follows." 

Because I think the cancer diagnosis just attached itself and became its own being walking with me (or toward me, to continue the metaphor). The absolute truth is that I feel pretty good. I feel exactly the way I felt in May and June. I have some pain from the tumor and a lot of inconvenience because of the new bag. I get pretty tired around 2pm and then I get irritated because the doctors and nurses have said I must work out (walk or cycle or hike) precisely when I'm tired - "Oxygen kills Cancer" (FYI).  

The truth is that our boys watched our cleaning lady fight breast cancer all year and survive (a single mom supporting herself by working through it all - my absolute heroine), so they have nothing but hope. They barely mention my health and are more fascinated with the bag. And they are very, very busy: 

C's All Star Team (sadly, lost their final game...but still such an awesome experience!) 

H's (and Shawn's) team still fighting it out in the season-end tourney! 

H qualified for Swim Championships (25 Butterfly & 50 freestyle)

D qualified for Swim Champs (100 Free-8th overall!!, 50 Back & 200 IM)

We are blessed to have so many people inviting the boys over everyday AND I'm so grateful that I still feel well enough to squeeze in some summer fun until the dreaded...chemo begins (see? It Follows). 

Shawn is the way you'd expect him to be: kind, obsessed with doing everything we can to beat this, making so many doctor appointments while coaching baseball and juicing every vegetable and fruit he can find and making me drink it. He prints out and leads every novena he can find. For my part, I am committed to doing everything he asks as the leader of my heart and soul. I'm only sad it took cancer for me to embrace how he leads us. It might follow, but it's teaching me things, too.

Lastly, I can't explain the peace, the calm. I have a litany of prayers I pray every day: The Surrender Novena  , The Litany of Trust, The I Declares (thank you, JH) - printout below. In the Surrender Novena, the prayer is "O Jesus, I surrender myself to You, take care of everything!" and, although I'm totally doing everything humanely possible to get It to stop following, I know that with one look, Jesus could send It away. My mindset comes 100% from all of your prayers. It's miraculous and I'm so grateful and humbled. I feel your prayers (and the thoughts, which God can make prayers) all of the time. 

I know this all begs the question of "why did you get it at all then?" and I am not vain enough (I'm plenty vain) to think that because I'm a wealthy white woman in the United States that I am immune from suffering. I'm peaceful but I'm realistic. Maybe It follows me because I want to use the suffering to help others. For now, I'm just relying on this: 

You were made for greatness. 

Chemo Class

I've been slow in updates. Mainly, this is because there is very little of interest to update.

1) I am recovering from surgery (pictures below - a little yucky - so spoilers). I can walk and eat and attend sporting events, movies and lunch dates with Shawn. 

2) I look normal to most people at this point. 

3)I have spent a week getting over myself. I have successfully pulled myself out of the rabbit hole that is the internet (There is good info on the internet but also there are countless ways that everything could totally and uncontrollably wrong). 

4) I am making the conscious choice "to get busy living" (as opposed to "getting busy dying" - thank you Shawshank Redemption). I have a weakness toward letting my emotions control my actions, but there is no virtue there. I have decided to make the best choice of action regardless how I feel.

5) I am rejoicing in the gifts of the people who are surrounding us: my boys, my parents, my brothers and sisters and Shawn's family, a meal train that is filled until September (WHAT?), Masses said every day by countless friends, Rosaries, people praying all over the world (I have the pictures to prove it), daily texts and emails, cards and pictures and IMs (I didn't even know I had that), FB posts and flowers...

6) and my "Chemo Class" where Shawn and I were led through the intricacies of chemotherapy. The fancy names, the mouth sores, the neuropathy, the fatigue, the diarrhea (as if the months leading up to this were not glamorous enough). The nurse who spoke with us was great. One of my chemo drugs will be administered over 2 days and she brought a sample pump that I will carry around so that we could look at it. She gave us lists and lists of things that will help and extra medicines I can take to help the various side effects. As a woman who barely takes Tylonol and Ibuprophen and has never had a "medicine list," looking at the meds I'll be on was the only time I cried.

But there was a tiny miracle. A good friend here (a school, church, mom friend) was an oncology nurse pre-kids and she delivered a care package right after we got home from the class. It was filled to the brim with all the food and snacks and drinks we were told to bring to the 1st chemo session. She said it was "for chemo" and she didn't know we'd be at the class today. She just knew we'd need it all. And knowing that she knows what will happen took away a bit of the lonely worry. And was the second time I cried.

This, is an ostomy bag. My colon is connected to this now. The bag is connected to my skin with a medical "sticker" called a flange. I connect the bag to the flange and it can be emptied and thrown away. Lift High The Cross :) (pic for Betsy and all those far away) 

This is the exact same outfit and I am wearing the bag, so you can't see it. It tucks in nicely and pretty much look normal. 

This is C, who made the All Star Team and will begin the tourney this weekend. We're so proud of and excited for him!!