Just wanted to pop on here and share some thoughts as I recover from surgery.
First of all, all the meals that have been dropped off or sent our way have been extremely appreciated. This tangible way of showing love just fills us with gratitude. It makes us feel seen, cared for, and our struggles clearly known. Growing up, my grandma always made meals to drop off to friends, family, or even strangers when she knew someone needed it. She was an expert at making a yummy meal ready to transport, often sloppy joe, and she would provide everything you’d need to enjoy it. Since she passed in August of 2023, I’ve tried to keep that tradition going in our family, but I certainly haven’t taken enough opportunities to provide meals for others. The care packages of meals we’ve received on our porch remind me of my grandma and how she quietly showed love and care to others. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to nourish us and give us the gift of extra time with the kids, as well as the feeling of relief about what to make for dinner.
Surgery has certainly rocked me physically and emotionally. Major surgery and recovery — hurts.
Losing a body part that adds to my femininity — hurts. Not being able to squeeze my big kids or pick up my babies — hurts. Finally getting all the cancer out of my body makes it worth it. I want a long, full life with my family and moving through intense physical and emotional pain is worth it.
If you google my type of breast cancer, triple negative, you’ll find this alarming word- aggressive. I hope that people who know me well know that this descriptive word doesn’t fit my personality at all. As an adult, I’m often soft-spoken in most social situations and you won’t find me competing in any sport or game. (Trust me, you won’t want me on your team in a competition..haha) This cancer, however, isn’t quiet or lackadaisical. It was aggressively growing for months. Chemotherapy shrank it, but still couldn’t erase it. Surgery, just as intrusive as this cancer, finally eliminated it. My treatment moving forward will focus on aggressively preventing this cancer from returning, which about 40% of women will experience a recurrence, especially in the first 5 years after the initial diagnosis. Statistics like this don’t aide in my desire to be hopeful; my desperate hope to live a long and beautiful life. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t started to wrestle with big questions. Will I see my kids grow up? Will I grow old with Michael? What unfulfilled dreams do I have quietly waiting in the shadows? Why has God allowed this to be a part of my story and what am I supposed to learn?
To answers these tough questions, I’ve decided to be just as aggressive as this cancer. By listening to my doctors I can fight this cancer aggressively, so I have the best chance of aggressively loving my incredible family for a very long time. I may not see why I’m walking through this all now, but I’m trusting that God will use my experience for His glory, and this will be just a (long and eventful!) chapter in the story of my life.
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