Coming Back into My Body Now

I went into school dressed as a 100 year old woman for the 100th day of school. The kids all said I looked beautiful. I had sparkly silver shoes with clear plastic heels, glitter gold leggings, a black top, a scarf, and a crown, with pearls and sparkly jewels. My hair was up and had baby powder in it. I explained that I had just won “Glitteriest Grandma”’at the senior center prom. One student asked where my cane was, and I explained I don’t need a cane when I dance.

We marched through the school with our 100th day projects, sang songs, counted to 100, and made a hallway museum.

That was all by 11:30.

Then I dropped them to lunch and headed to the cancer center.

I did run home quick. I wanted to take my herbs, do some wheat grass shots, grab a green juice for the ride, and I decided to change and try to fix my hair. I had a feeling about this appointment.

So here goes.

Ok….my labs stink.

My oncologist has decided to hold off the next round of chemo to give my cells a few extra days to try and regroup. I’m not starting today.

This weekend my body gets two free days to rest.

It starts Monday.

She wants me to stay on the highest level of chemo of 125 mg for at least one more cycle.

Rob ordered it immediately after the appointment and it will be shipped overnight.

I have to go for bloodwork in two weeks to check how my counts are.

We are also scheduling the PET MRI for March.

She said being tired like I am is normal. Listen, I make this look easy.

It’s not.

You know how you feel at the end of a long week?

That’s me… every morning.

We kept talking about bloodwork and the dentist visit I had.

We talked about the next appointment with the oncologist in four weeks and one injection. I’ll get the ginormous one but not the bone one due to possible osteonecrosis. The PETMRI will also include my Brain, and they can check the jaw.

She measured the tumors in the breast. When your oncologist gets out a tape measure two appointments in a row, your heart stops.

Then you ask.

“Has it gotten bigger?”

No, but..

She isn’t happy it hasn’t gotten smaller, and she had hoped by now it would have disappeared.

She mentioned that it’s possible there are dormant cancer cells laying inside the tumors, and wants to check the uptake in the MRIPET.

That’s when you start to write the shitty first draft of the next part of you me story.

You think to yourself, “It has happened. The terrible thing. This is what the terrible thing feels like. I remember from last year”.

I started crying and said I cant believe this is my life.

She stopped staring intently at her screen and looked at me and said, “I know. It’s hard.” Then she went back to looking at all of my former scans and the screen.

Hard is an understatement.


I left my body. I started to float out of it and there was a buzzing in my ears. I looked at rob. He said, “Don’t go there.”

And I knew I had to find some hope before I left the room.

A glimmer.

I actually took a breathe and came back into my body.

I asked about possibly being ogliometastatic, and she said that could still be true.

I asked if it’s possible for someone to live as an ogliometastatic patient for a long time and die with these tumors having just lived there.

She said yes.

Her goal is to still have me live as a chronic disease patient.

But, she said that there are possibly cancer cells lying dormant in the breast, inside the tumor, encapsulated.

In my mind I thought of a ticking time bomb.

I thought that I have to do all I can to keep the beast in the breast asleep.

Somehow, for the next forty five years, I’ll have to sing lullabies to the beast every second of every day, starve it of the sugar and stress and sleep deprivation it wants, and instead tell it stories of Jesus while I breathe and let it taste all the goodness of organic foods as we breathe in unison while

I sleep.

We finished up with my oncologist and I told her to drink pineapple juice for her cough.

Then I texted my family.

Rob went from desk to desk and made all of my appointments and did the phone calls. I sat on a couch, stared out the window towards the hospital, and had a pity party cry.

The shitty first draft started again.

“See that hospital? That’s where you’re going to end up at the end.”

My family kept texting me and pulling me back.

Rob was positive and tends to hear the good things, so he will keep filling my head with the good things, after i get out the good cries.

He spoke of Jesus and how I am his miracle. How two different mediums said I would live a long life, and had a direct connection to God.

I pray for that every second.

I’m tired.

Still trying to catch my breath this morning from when she took out the tape measure again yesterday.

It’s going to be a long month.

Please pray for another good PETMRI.

I need it.

We went out to get something to eat at the Cheesecake Factory. I get the Mexican salad, no cheesecake.

I looked at all people around us and thought how they are taking their lives for granted.

As if the shooting in Wednesday didn’t make them realize. I was still so sad that instead of bedtime stories I’m talking to Madison about what to do if someone tries to shoot her in school.

It’s been a crushing and exhausting week.

Suddenly I got one of my feelings and knew I had to go next door to the book store. I actually walked around Barnes and Nobles with my hand out in front of bookshelves until my had felt I found the book I was supposed to get.

“Trade your Cares for Calm” by Max Lucado.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

I also got messages other ways.

My e-friend Onyx sent me some hope on a new therapy.

Paula went to the beach to video the sunset.

Rob and I watched it in the middle of a busy restaurant. Everyone had a view of a mall parking lot.

We had a sunset to watch.

Suddenly, there were three seals in the water.

One on one rock, and two on another.

Three seals.


Then we went home, I hugged my kids and tried hard to not cry.

My hero, Ann Fonfa, had an interview released with another hero of mine, Chris Wark.

On the night I needed hope.

It’s an amazing interview.

You should all watch it.

Today is Chinese New Year,

Year of the Dog.

I’ll try to find something appropriate to wear, and try to keep the kids calm before we begin the weeklong break.

My mom and dad told me I’m doing too much and to rest over the break.

I feel like a woman on fire and want to clean and catch up in the housework and make memories with my kids.

I’ll have to find a balance.

Today, may the beast in breast continue to sleep.


In Jesus’s name, amen.



5 thoughts on “Coming Back into My Body Now

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