Kool & the Gang got it right. There is a party going on around here, a celebration.

February 24th I had a routine annual checkup. God’s hands were on that day long before I drove up to that building. He had my children in the hands of friends who would be the first to hear of my unexpected news. He had appointments open so that I could go from the doctor, to an ultrasound, to a mammogram in one hour. And He prepared me in life to handle heartbreak and uncertainty and show me that I can survive. And as of today, that is what I can now call myself — a survivor. It has a much better meaning than some TV show. And I will wear the name proudly. It only took 9 days after that checkup to hear the diagnosis of breast cancer, it was March 5th. And 7 months later, I can take a deep breath. I am done with all my treatments.

For the last 6 weeks, Monday thru Friday, I have driven to Williamson Med for my radiation treatment. The drive was about 20 minutes, 15 minutes in the office and then back on the road. I could typically be home within 1 hour. And for that I am truly thankful. I am also thankful for the  women in my life who stepped up and watched my girls, without them, I could not have physically done this. Before the first day, I was marked up with a sharpie. Lines and circles that would dictate where the laser beams would align for the next 30 treatments. My chest was covered in permanent artwork. Audrey liked to pull on my shirt and look at “mommy’s marker”. Megan would ask, “why is your skin red?’ And Alyssa just learned it was all part of the process. I pray I taught them something through this process, I don’t know what it was, but I hope this impacted their life for the good. This is the room.

I had great techs who would line this giant machine up to my marks everyday. It is a very precise job, inching millimeters to just the right spot. I would lay very still as they all booked it out of the room. It became quite funny how quick they could get out. Once they are in their office, the giant, vault-like door closed, they would turn the beam on. Lights would light up in the room, warning anyone that it is a danger area. Ironically, there I would lay day after day, starring at the sign.

I became comfortable with this procedure. There were 3 areas treated each day. I would ward off the itches and discomforts for those 10 minutes each day. The beams would only last about 30 seconds for each area, but once I was aligned and in position, I did not move. I was cared for by great people at the office. They would kindly greet me, ask how my weekend was – to which I never had a good story, and we would joke about the puzzle that sat in the waiting room. Because there for a while, apparently there was a blind cancer patient trying to match up puzzle pieces. I would search to finish the border and realize that pieces were not in the right spot. So I would rearrange and move on. The next day, those pieces were back in the wrong spot again. The techs had a patient complaining that someone was messing up the puzzle and I was joking that someone was putting the pieces in the wrong spot. Finally I asked for a different puzzle. I would visit the doctor once a week, and they took x rays once a week. All to make sure that we were treating the exact area necessary.

There were few side effects from radiation. I did not get sick. I was a little worn out by the end, which is now, but it is so hard to tell what that is from. Is it my body trying to fight and recover, is it the annoyance of being there everyday, or was it that I was doing all of this and a wife and mother. Either way, I survived. Yes, I might fall asleep on the couch quicker than I used to, but overall I still feel good. Still a mother, still washing clothes, still running with my pal. The main side effect is to the skin area. It is compared to a really bad sunburn. A sunburn so bad that the skin has burn marks. You can very clearly see the area that was treated. So it is sensitive, itchy and feeling raw in places. It should reach its peak in the next week and then begin to heal over the next month. This portion of my treatment, the radiation, is to fight the larger clumps of cells that may still be there. The chemo was useful for targeting individual cells throughout the entire body and this was used to kill off any remaining that might have been larger than one cell. At least that is my understanding. It of course, also was target to the one area where the cancer was.

So that is my explanation of the past month or so. Today’s treatment went like normal, everyone excited for me. I felt good, but the second the crew high-tailed it out the door, the second the light on the machine flicked off and the hum began, tears began to roll down my face. My body shaking, trying to fight back this emotion. I don’t know where it came from. Probably weeks of anxiety and fear trapped inside. Probably a realization that it is over, really over. I was told that it can be bitter sweet. For the past 7 months I have had an active roll in the fight. Surgery, surgery again, chemo, radiation… and now what? What do I do now? Nothing. No scans, no tests, no cancer checks. For 7 months God has put it in our hands, the doctors’ hands, and now it is in His. Do you know how scary that is? So, yes, let’s scream it from the mountaintop, “I MADE IT”. But then step back and its time to say, “I really now give it all to you Lord.” I trust You. I will live my life one day at a time praying that the cancer is really gone, but knowing deep down You are in control. And Your plan is better than anything I could ever understand. I hold tight to the words I read today, spoken like Jesus talking to me:

“Put more energy into trusting Me and enjoying My Presence. Don’t let your well-being depend on your circumstances. Instead connect your joy to My precious promises: I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go. I will meet all your needs according to My glorious riches. Nothing in all creation will be able to separate you from My Love.”

2 months after chemo, my hair is growing back. It is close to the same color. It fully covers my head though still short, think of Ethan with a much cuter head. I ditched the hats and bands 3 weeks ago and love being free again. My eyebrows and eyelashes, which were the last to go, have begun to show up again too. I have not worn mascara in over 3 months and I am anxious to just get to do something simple like that again. So the effects of the cancer will linger a bit longer, but the celebration has officially begun.