This is love...

God is our refuge and strength,

    an ever-present help in trouble.

~ Psalm 46:1

Saturday.  It is the fourth day out from my surgery last Tuesday, and it started out rough.  The On-Q pain relief system balls that had been feeding my body a steady and slow drip of pain medicine for the previous 3 1/2 days got removed on Friday.  I asked for them to be removed because wearing the pain relief system, that  I originally dubbed "Amaze Balls", had become like a chain around my neck. 

For the sake of education and because I know you are curious, I am (with great humility) including the two pictures below.  The first picture is of an On-Q pain relief ball, and the second is a picture of me (well, my torso, anyway) sporting two of these pain relief system balls zipped up inside bags that are hung around the neck when moving around.  It should be noted that I am also covering up surgical drainage tubes and bulbs under that top, so I am extra poofy at the hip line.  The pillows under the arms are partly for comfort where lymph nodes were removed, and they have the added purpose of reminding me to not lift or move my arms too much.

Seeing the second picture can perhaps help you understand that after three days I wasn't sure the trade-off in pain relief was worth the pain in the neck carrying these things around was becoming.  They were nearing the end of their life, so the risk of regret seemed small, and I just couldn't know until they came off, and their catheters removed from my chest, how much they were helping me. 

I made my choice on Friday, and by Saturday I found out.  

They helped quite a bit.  

It is now Saturday evening, and my original five pills of Tramadol are now gone and I am left with Gabapentin and Ibuprofen and Tylenol to manage my pain.  While the pain is very real, I don't want to ask for more narcotics.  The pain is pretty awful at this point, but I think I can manage this level of discomfort, trusting that it will get better.  I keep thinking surely I'm near the end of the worst of it.  

In a way, embracing the pain may be the better course.  When I left the surgery center on Wednesday morning with a PECS block still in effect, and my "Amaze Balls" around my neck, feeling little pain, it was easy to imagine that I was Super Woman, and I know I moved my arms in ways I was instructed not to.  I didn't do it rebelliously, but rather, I would completely forget the instructions to not lift anything that weighed more than a can of pop, or to not reach forward or to the side.  The instructions were clear.  "It's Tyrannosaurus Rex arms until the drains are removed." But my brain didn't seem capable of computing that instruction when I felt like Super Woman.

Today it has become very clear that I am not Super Woman, but, rather, a comically short-armed, big-headed dinosaur.  Today, in greater pain (physical and emotional) I was feeling very sorry for myself when I suddenly I got a group text from Peggy B  - one of the gals in a small group of lovely friends that stays in touch at this point mostly through texts.

The text simply asked, "How are you feeling, Becki?"

I jumped at the opportunity to pour out my heart that was hurting.  I got a bit raw.  And that is when I started to see God work. 

"Thanks for asking how I am, Peggy.  Emotions are kind of wonky because of pain, but also because of how I look.  I'm guessing that things will eventually settle down some.  There is swelling that will hopefully resolve eventually.  

Nerves have been cut, and now that the pain block is probably completely worn off, the nerves fire sometimes unpredictably, and sometimes directly related to something I just did.  Either way, it's like being zapped by electricity.  I cry out and want to grab and protect what isn't there.  And when I touch what is there, it sometimes hurts because the skin is so tender from mid-chest up to the collar bone.  I have no idea whose collar bone I have now, but I do not recognize this one that sticks out too far and is covered with skin that shimmers like a tanned chicken hide.  It's painful to look at, let alone touch.

And just like that, I am now completely awash in fatigue and feel like I may not be able to even finish this text.  

I will say before I finish, though, that today I have tapped into some online communities whose sole purpose for existing is to emotionally support women who have chosen mastectomy with no reconstruction (also known as "aesthetically flat closure" or just "flat closure".  Tapping into these resources has given me hope that what I look like today will evolve as I heal and the swelling resolves.  But I have to work to keep my head in that space.  It's hard to see something that looks freakish today and hope that it will become something less so.  The physical discomfort right now is an additional hurdle in that game.

Is that too much?  I was a little more raw with you ladies than I'll probably be with people I see regularly."

My friends encouraged me that it is impossible to be too raw with them.  I knew that.  That's why I love them.  That is why we can go for years without seeing one another and in one text or phone call I am transported back into the company of friends who accept me just as I am.  We pick up where we left off, and we rekindle the love that was sparked 10 years ago around Lori E's kitchen table.  A love that grew more and more as we met in each other's homes and other venues, in some seasons meeting regularly, but eventually sporadically, now rarely, but always sharing our hearts with one another.  

And then in the midst of them sending me encouraging texts, Greg asked me to come guide him while he started to launder some of my things.

As I walked through the house I looked out a back window and saw these flowers sitting on our firepit:  

I don't know when the backdoor neighbors put them there, but my finding them couldn't have been more timely.  I had Greg carry them inside (because I'm now employing T-Rex arms, and obeying the "do-not-lift-anything-heavier-than-a-can-of-pop" rule.)

Inside, I sat down to send my neighbor a text.  Letting her know the flowers from her garden had lifted my spirits more than she could possibly imagine.

Then I noticed that some other friends had texted me.  And, Peggy W., one of my oldest friends since we moved here, sent me a text reminding me she was coming this evening with a meal. 

At 2:20 I got back to the original group text where the others were carrying on without me, and I explained what had happened while I was away:

"Well, between flowers, and you and some other friends texting me in such a short time, I am now filled with a powerful reminder that I am loved.  By my Heavenly Father and by precious friends he has given me.  I was crying earlier with tears of self-pity, but now I'm crying happy tears."  

And later this evening I was surprised with a group text from my sisters.  I was so tired by that time, I could just manage a rambling text explaining what the day had held.  I wanted them to know it had been a good day; I pressed [send] and drifted off to sleep for a while, feeling loved.

We earthly parents want nothing more than to comfort our hurting children when they are frightened, lonely, hurt or broken.  How much more does our Heavenly Father desire to bind up our physical and emotional wounds and remind us that we are His. That he loves us, He redeems us, and He has a far greater plan for us than we can imagine.

From a simple "How are you?" text, to garden-cut flowers, to a hearty home cooked meal, friends and sisters were the hands and feet of Jesus to me today.  I received the gift of our Heavenly Father's love through them.  I am inspired, even in my pain, that someday, again, it will be me that can be the hands and feet of Jesus.  No act of kindness is too small to convey this love and care.

And I looked around and remembered all over again that I had received love from others many times this week.  It wasn't that I didn't recognize it at the time, but today it flooded my heart with gratitude all over again.

Flowers delivered on Wednesday from my sisters in Florida and Colorado.

Thank you, Sherri & Debbie!

Flowers brought on Thursday from a long-time friend 

who now lives just down the road.

Thank you, Amy!

An edible bouquet on Friday from Greg's brother and sister.

Thank you, Todd and Amy!

And cards from friends far and near wishing me a complete recovery.

Daily, there are texts from different friends checking in on me.  My long-distance friend, Pam, finds time in her very busy life to check on me several times a week - often several days in a row.  I look forward to a visit (and a meal) from my good friend, Lynne, this coming week.   And a visit is on the calendar from Becky, who is younger than me and has, in recent years, battled an aggressive breast cancer.  And my friend, Jean, who is currently recovering from knee surgery, and is a breast cancer survivor herself, texts me every few days.  My husband is patiently managing the emptying of my surgical drains several times a day (because I can't reach them with T-Rex arms), and is managing laundry and anything, really, that I ask him to do.  He's a trooper.

And every other day for the next two weeks, old and new friends have signed up to bring us a meal on a Meal Train page created just for us.  I mentioned Peggy and Lynne, but there is also Vicki, Marti B., Kirsten, Kay, Kim S., Amy H, Jackie, Bonnie and Michelle.  I can see the faces that go with those names and I am humbled.  When Vicki told me a couple of weeks before surgery that she wanted to organize a Meal Train for me, I truly thought it might be unnecessary.  But in this compromised state I temporarily find myself, I am so very thankful she and our friend, Bonnie, didn't give up too easily.  Thank you, sweet friends.

And an even more amazing thing is...  these tangible things do not represent even half of the people I know are praying for me.  Some of you are praying for me.  Many in our church family are praying.  I have been told that strangers in other churches are praying for me.  My dear friend, Dory, who has her own story of pain, has texted me at what might seem funny times of the day and night when she has thought of me and prayed for me, and each text has come at a time that I was needing that prayer and the "voice" of a friend  - like the morning of surgery when most of the world was asleep, Dory was awake and she contacted me, letting me know she was praying.    All of these things are sweet reminders that I am loved and that we are called to love one another.

I am blessed.  

I am loved.

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, 

that we should be called children of God! 

And that is what we are! 

The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.

~ 1 John, 3:1

I hope that soon I will be back to writing somewhat regularly and visiting your blogs.  Right now, even though I am not responding to comments, I cherish every one that is left here.  Thank you for stopping by!

Progress...

I want to start with a huge thank you to all of you who left such beautiful comments on my last post.  I was overwelmed by your kindness and lovely words.  I appreciate you all so much.  I didn't even think to ask for your prayers when I was writing, so I was touched that you pray-ers just volunteered for the job.  You are the best!   

~~~~~

In April I shared some pictures of a large weedy bed on the south side of our house.   I dubbed it the "bed of doom".   Working over Memorial weekend we got that bed whipped into shape, and also brought mulch around to the front of the house.    

Also this spring we tilled and planted to grass a compacted and bare space under a tree in front of our house.  It's not exactly lush with grass, but it does look a bit better.   Hopefully, with a little more tending and prodding, we can persuade grass to keep filling in.  

And lastly, a year ago, I trimmed some Knockout Rose bushes in a bed on the north side of the house, but I decided after all that work I just wasn't a fan of these rose bushes with a gazillion tiny thorns.  It only took one pruning job to convince me I don't need these in my life.  Greg was happy when I said I didn't want them, as that meant we could dig them up (we gave them to friends who wanted them), and he could plant the area to grass and have a simpler mowing job.  And if I want a rose fix, I can just look out a side window and enjoy my neighbor's gorgeous Knockout Roses he has trellised up the whole side of his house.  He is a pro at these roses.  I don't need to be.  

While it didn't seem so obvious to us when we first bought this house in the fall of 2021, after moving in, the outside upkeep became apparent.  We decided early on that one of our goals would be simplifying the landscaping.  It's been a multi-step process of first removing what was just too much, and now this spring neatening those areas up.  We will, undoubtedly add new plantings in the future, but they will be easy care perennials and not too many.  A future buyer can't be unhappy about that.  If someone in the future wants to plant their hearts out, we will be leaving them a cleaner slate than what we started with. 

There's more to do, but we are enjoying the property more and more with each finished project.  Below are progress pictures of these different spots.  I even power washed the gutters on the back of the house last weekend.  It feels good as I head into surgery soon that these things are done.  It will be nice to spend some time outside on pretty days relaxing and enjoying the cleaner landscaping while I'm healing up.  

So... here's the progression:

Knocking out the Knockout Roses:

Fixing the front:

A Do-over for the Bed of Doom:

Youngest son, Ben, was a great help for most of a day that Memorial weekend.

And that, dear reader, is it for today.  I'll be back sometime after my surgery this week.  

I hope you have a beautiful day!

What no one wants to hear...

I've been weighing for weeks if I even want to write about what's been going on with me for the last month or so.  Part of me has wanted to keep it more or less quiet, but it's so significant it seems ridiculous to not share about it.

I'm more and more looking at this blog as a way to document some important things in life.  Sometimes just normal events, but also lessons learned, opportunities experienced, challenges faced.  

Well, a new challenge is being faced.  It started in March, actually, and there is much too much to put into one post, so consider this an introduction to a topic I may write more on as time passes.   And let me just say up front... I'm writing about this for me more than for you.  I won't be the least bit offended if you don't read along, though I do hope something I write can benefit someone else.  Even if it's just that someone appreciates reading another person's experience.  I have certainly benefitted from many women sharing  via blogs and youtube videos.  

So it's with all the above in mind that I've decided to share.

In late April I was finally diagnosed with breast cancer.  Pretty much every time I've had to tell someone this they gasp and look at me like I'm a china doll that might break - and then I can't say fast enough, "It's okay, it's been caught early, it's highly treatable".  And that's all true, but it has meant the world to me when friends and family have offered their gentle expressions of "I'm sorry" for what even a good cancer diagnosis means.   Even if they don't know exactly what it means.  

What I now know it means, at a minimum, is an exhausting, somewhat soul numbing and sometimes traumatizing series of tests and doctor's visits.  New information seems to lurk around every corner.  In the best case scenario, it may mean (relatively) minor surgery and taking medicine for many years.  That last thing is seriously hard for me to swallow (figuratively and literally) since I'm such a terrible medicine taker, and one of the things I've feared most in growing older is the possibility of finding myself in a terrible whackamole game of managing side effects of one medicine by taking another additional medicine.  This aspect of ongoing cancer treatment tests my spirit more than anything else - so far.   I've also learned through the process of refining a diagnosis, which includes searching to see if there is more cancer, plans can change and you adapt.  

But back to the plus side - in addition to having an early-caught cancer.  For this lady who has in the past avoided doctors like the plague, I have to say the medical staff at the cancer center I've found myself at are among the most amazing and kind people.  They show no judgement or criticism.  For the most part they are encouraging and good spirited during challenging procedures, and by and large the system seems to run with an efficiency I've never experienced before.  Even when there are hiccups, they have dealt calmly with them.

So after all the tests so far, I have what appears to be a very good diagnosis and prognosis, and I am so very thankful for it.   Though, while I've met with a whole team of doctors - each with their offerings of after surgery cancer treatment - I (and they) won't know for sure what treatments will be suggested until the final biopsy is completed about two weeks after my surgery.

Through the last month and a half I have processed so much information.  I have researched treatments I've been told about during meetings with the different doctors on "my team".  I've tried valiantly to analyze the risk/benefit ratio of each as I consider the potential (some frighteningly long term) side effects as well as benefits.  It's been a roller coaster ride for sure, but somehow I've managed to stay buckled in when I've wanted to crawl right out.  Even when two weeks ago a second, smaller tumor was found which changed my surgery options.   The change in surgery options meant what was originally proposed as after surgery treatment has been scrubbed until the final biopsy.  I've gleaned from friends and online articles and youtubers what I need to be prepared to recover from a bilateral mastectomy - the worst part appears to be post surgical drains.  I am dreading the drains.

I will, perhaps in some future posts, touch on some of the tests leading up to a diagnosis.  I had no idea what all was involved in diagnosing breast cancer and how long it could all take - even for early caught tumors.  I've heard from two friends how they were rushed into surgery within a week of their first tests that showed aggressive tumors.  While my drawn out testing has mentally exhausted me at times, I cannot imagine the whirlwind of emotions and energies that must go into a rapid diagnosis and quickly scheduled surgery.  As hard as this long drawn out diagnostic period has been, I guess I'm thankful for it because it has allowed me to research, ask questions, and just generally get ready!

It has been a welcome distraction during all of this that we've also been busy doing work outside while the weather was beautiful during April and most of May, and I have some pictures of our progress for a future post.  Now that we're having temps in the 90's we are so glad to have the hardest work behind us.  I've been enjoying harvesting and freezing and sharing strawberries this spring.  Something of a garden has been put in, and lots of flower seeds have been sown there and in planters.  Now we wait and see what the work produces.

And that's a wrap for today.  

Thank you for stopping by!   

Irises from our back yard, June 2022.