I’ve been debating how I should start and title this post. I
thought about “Category Four Shit Storm”; I thought about “The month from
hell”; I thought about “Unrelenting.” But as I have processed through this
difficult time, I realized that despite all the pain, sadness, anger, and
frustration…there were many precious glimpses of hope and joy.
In my previous post when I found out that the cancer was
back again, I wrote about the waiting, and also of the beauty I found in the
brokenness. As my family dealt with bad news after bad news, I really did
become numb and I couldn’t even process. But now I have had time and things
have calmed down a bit (please Lord let it be calm for a while longer)…I will
chronicle these unrelenting experiences in a condensed chronology.
As I wrote in my last post, on November 6 I found out that
the mass in my pelvic region is indeed a malignant cancer tumor, and then two
days later we found out that our sweet dog Moses also has cancer throughout his
body that is inoperable.
The next two weeks were filled with numerous appointments
with surgeons to prepare my treatment plan, as well as
having my boy home from college and sharing a beautiful Thanksgiving with
friends and family. Amidst all this, I was trying to reach my step dad Ric who
lives alone in the Bay Area where I grew up. He has been in poor health, but
had told me he was going to try to drive here for Thanksgiving. After calling
him numerous times, and having neighbors check with no success, we had our friend
call police to do a welfare check. Ric was found in dire condition and taken to
hospital with a fractured hip and many other issues. From this point on, each day was filled with
numerous calls from the hospital--case workers, nurses, and doctors. I couldn’t
get on a plane to see him because I had many cancer related appointments
scheduled. It was difficult and emotionally draining to be far away and not by
his side.
(Necessary side note for clarification—In 1995 my parents
told us they were divorcing after 33 years of marriage. A few years later my
mom remarried a man (Denny). A few years after that my dad also remarried… a
man (Ric). My dad passed away in 2015. My sister and I have been calling Ric
“dad” for awhile, though technically he is our step dad. My sister and I are
Ric’s remaining family.)
My doctors had scheduled another detailed MRI and a
colonoscopy so I had two back to back appointments the Monday after
Thanksgiving. This began my “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.” While
driving to my morning MRI appointment, I was waiting at a red light, minding my
own driving business, and a guy plows into me on my drivers side, smashing my
door in and my front left tire well area. We exchanged information and took
pictures quickly so I could make my appointment (my door didn’t open fully, but
my car was drive-able.) As I drove I was in a haze—I couldn’t believe that yet
another “event” had happened in this already stressful time. I was weak and tired because the previous day
I had done my colonoscopy “Prep”-- for all of you who have been through that,
you know what I mean. I couldn’t eat or drink anything until the colonoscopy--
which was scheduled for later that day. By the end of the day I was emotionally
and physically drained and overwhelmed.
The next day (one day after my “terrible, horrible, no good,
very bad day”) I received a phone call from Ric’s doctor that Ric was not going
to make it. The doctor explained that Ric’s kidney functions and enzyme levels
were not stabilizing so his body wasn’t strong enough to go through surgery and
his body functions were shutting down. I looked at my calendar and saw that I had
five days until my next cancer appointment, so I booked a flight up to Oakland.
My sister and her husband Dave changed all their work plans and commitments as
well and drove down from Oregon.
We met at the hospital and began sitting by Ric’s side,
letting him know we were there even though there were no responses--not a nod
or a hand squeeze or a word. (Thankfully he had been in and out of coherency the week before so we had been able to at least call him daily). But now, he was near the end. Nurses told us he was comfortable and that he was
aware of our presence, so we kept talking to him about our memories with him
and how much we loved him. We prayed over him, read scripture over him, and played
music for him. For two days we sat with
him while also taking turns dealing with all the legal matters and paper work that
go along with the “business of death.” For all who have been through this, it
is emotionally wrenching and horribly overwhelming. I was so thankful that my
sister and I could work through this together.
On November 30 as we were preparing to go back to the
hospital to be with Ric, the doctor called to say he had passed away
peacefully. (This is also the day that President George H.W. Bush died). We knew this was coming, but the finality made
me numb emotionally. (By this time I felt like a robot, just walking
mechanically through each horrible thing that happened). There was still so
much to do and process. We spent the day doing more paper work with the will
and talking to lawyers, doctors, pastors, and friends. That night we went to
one of our favorite places in my hometown (Moresi’s in Clayton) to celebrate
Ric and my dad and their lives. It was the place my dad and Ric loved to take
us, and it carries many fond memories of our time with them. I flew home the
next morning, with my sister and I having many things on our “to do” lists, but
at least I was home.
I arrived home and went
straight to bed--I had barely slept in the past four days. The next morning, Noah
called Greg from Colorado telling him that the ball joint on his truck broke
and he was on the side of the road waiting for a tow truck. He was so upset
that he didn’t want to tell me—because he knew that every day it seemed there
was more bad news. But a mama has to talk to and comfort her son (no matter how
old). He was not only upset about his car, but about the money needed to fix it
and the unrelenting streak of bad news we had been experiencing. He described
it in a perfect way…He said, “I feel like we have wave upon wave crashing upon
us and we can’t get out of the water to get air.” True that. I wasn’t going to
give him some Biblical passage or Christian cliché. Together we admitted that
all of this absolutely sucked, that we were indeed in a “shit storm.” No other
way to put it. But as I talked to my son who was far away in Colorado and I
couldn’t hug him or be there with him, we shared our grief and our pain with
God on the phone together. This whole shit storm was something we couldn’t
comprehend. We didn’t know why God was allowing all this to happen in quick succession.
We didn’t know why expenses were piling up and phone calls always brought bad
news, and why more and more appointments and to do lists added to our already
stressed lives.
After we calmed down a bit, I told Noah that over the next days
and weeks we would look for the many glimpses that God gives us of hope,
beauty and joy. We texted each other daily and told each other what glimpses
God had given us that day. We made it through each day. I took my car in to get
repaired. I talked with my sister daily regarding our to do lists on the “business of death.” Noah
wrote his papers and took his finals. I met my radiation oncologist and found
out my treatment plan. We moved forward with glimpses of God’s provision and
love; glimpses of joy, beauty and hope.
My treatment plan begins next week. I will have radiation
treatments five days a week for six weeks. Simultaneously, I will take a
chemotherapy pill twice per day. Once the six weeks are over, I will have a
rest and recovery time for about 4-6 weeks. Then I will have surgery to remove
the mass and possible chemotherapy and radiation after the surgery recovery.
This is a long process—longer than I expected—BUT it is a plan. A plan that has
a positive outcome if all goes well. As the doctor was explaining all this to
me, I said, “So here’s the deal—I have a graduating senior—he is class president
and giving the speech at the ceremony….will this be finished by then?” I mean, I
am a planner, and having cancer disrupts all my plans. He told me with a
positive attitude that all should be finished by that time.
Now I know that doesn’t mean everything will go smoothly
from this point on. Believe me, I have experienced trials and disruptions over
and over. Many of you have as well, because people, that is life. It’s how we
navigate the journey through the good and bad, the pain and the joy, the
darkness and the light that carries us through this life. For me and my family,
the only way to do that is through Jesus Christ. Emmanuel, God with Us. When
the waves are crashing and we feel like we are drowning, and when the sea is calm
and we feel at peace, Emmanuel is always with us. My friend Leah gave me a
necklace that has a charm on it that says, “Mightier than the waves of the sea,
is His love for me.” God is mighty, even when the waves crash. God is holy,
even as the sea is calm. His waves are waves of grace. No matter where we are or what we are going through--mighty
God, Emmanuel, reveals Himself through glimpses of joy, beauty and hope. I pray
you will find your glimpses this season.
5 comments:
Kirsten, as always your words inspire. May the waves ebb w peace during this transition from 2018-2019 .May the intentions and volotions you set remain glimpses of gratitude during all that is a head in your journey toward knocking the snot out of Cancer's sorry arse.
Praising God for your incredible faith, joy, and transparency through this difficult season that brings others hope, increases their faith and puts life into perspective!
Praising God that He is always glorified through the miracles He does in your life to be a living testimony of His love, strength, provision, power and healing.
Praising God that you were not seriously injured in the auto accident!
Praising God that you and your sister were able to be by Ric’s side as his only family to pray, sing and share beautiful memories with him when no one else was there. He took his last breath knowing he was deeply loved and adored,
Praising God that your son was safe alongside the road when his car had problems.
Praising God that you have such an amazing and supportive husband and your boys are loving, compassionate and considerate of your feelings.
Praising God for your continued selfless acts of service, devotion, and compassion you demonstrate that reflects the love and sacrifice of Jesus!
Praising God for the amazing community of friends and your spiritual family He has surrounded you with as a result of your loving impact, influence and out pouring into their lives.
Praising God for your strong love for Jesus in the midst of horrible circumstances and allowing us to witness His grace, mercy, and miracles.
Praising God for you who is a continual reminder of how we want to live with joy as a living sacrifice poured out, fully surrendered and devoted to following Jesus in the midst of pain and disappointment!
Praising and thanking God that the tumor is gone and no weapon formed against you can prosper, death and destruction has to leave your body now in the mighty name of Jesus and by the blood of Jesus Christ of Nazareth you are healed!
With all my love, prayers and admiration,
Kirsten
As always, thank you sharing. Your words resonated so strongly with me as the last few weeks at our house mirror yours so closely. Like you, some days I've just had to say (through the tears), "This sucks!" Then return back to the foot of the cross for that peace of Christ that surpasses all understanding, pick myself back up and "live to face another day." My daughter said, "Why do things happen at Christmas?" I didn't have an answer except to say, "Nothing will steal the joy I have at the birth of our Savior" and your words echos the same sentiment. Love you dear sister in Christ. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for letting us walk along side you. Your light shines for Christ!
You bring me to tears. I am very inspired by your words,and journey. Thank you for sharing such intimate glimpses of your life. I pray for a full recovery for you, and the waves to be less turbulent and tumultuous. You are a brilliant star, and I am grateful for your beacon of truth and your example to all of us. Taking it moment by moment, hoping for miracles and light, always!!❤
Kirsten, I’m overwhelmed with feelings as I walkthrough your experiences in this blog. You are a mighty warrior of God and an inspiration to all that have been blessed to call you friend. I will be praying fort the “plan” to work seemlessly. Love you mean friend.
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