I am absolutely exhausted at the end of this week. Not, “I’ve traveled and had an awesome spring break, so glad to be home” exhausted. Not, “I have cleaned the house, washed 8 loads of laundry and done the grocery shopping” exhausted. Not even, “My kids have been running in and out of the house all day loud and obnoxious” exhausted. I know there is definitely some emotional exhaustion at work, but really I think it is physical exhaustion. Since my diagnosis 2 weeks ago, I have had 9 appointments/procedures, with 5 different doctors and traveled 272 miles. That may look great on my taxes next year, but right now it is overwhelming.

I am so thankful for the people that surround and support me. My husband has been away from work to be by my side for most of those appointments. My friends in town are picking up, playing with or just loving on my girls. My mom and dad have been here for a few days taking care of dinner, bedtime routines and our yard. And I can’t even begin to start on the fundraising efforts that are already in full swing. As we continue to put our trust in the Lord, continue to focus our gaze on him, I am amazed at the blessings that fall on us.

We are still waiting for details about this cancer, but we will continue to move forward. My year looks like chemo, surgery and radiation. Dates are not set for chemo, but the port will find its new home resting uncomfortably under my clavicle next week. If you are interested in following this fight, stayed plugged in here. Some days you may get the long and some days just the short, but my heart will no doubt be revealed like it has so many times before. Thank you for walking by our side.

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”
2 Corinthians 4:8-9

I have been sketching lately. I fully intended to get on board with the idea of selling printables in my Etsy shop. I would come up with new ideas, sketch and scan, or digitally create a design for customers to purchase. My sketchpad and pens have been out for weeks, only on this day last week, I was sketching to soothe my soul instead of earn money. Convincing and confirming my soul that God is Good.

Friday, Feb 28th, I met with my oncologist to discuss some changes that had been bothering me. For almost 4 years, I had been cancer-free, healthy; healed. But now, I knew something had changed. The area in my chest that had undergone surgery and radiation felt and looked different. My doc took a quick look and ordered a biopsy and CT scan that afternoon. We waited and prayed through the weekend, worried beyond measure. By Tuesday March 4th, I was back with the oncologist awaiting the results of those tests. The CT scan had come back clear…that meant that if there was any cancer present, he could tell it had not metastasized. (Thank you God) But the biopsy had been sent to MD Anderson for a second opinion. It was that Friday, March 7th after preliminary results, that my doctor confirmed the cancer had returned. The cancer does look different, so even as I type, MD Anderson is still looking at it. Since last week, I have met with a radiation oncologist who confirms that radiation is in my future. I have met my oncologist who expresses his concern for this aggressive cancer that has already presented itself twice. I have met with a surgeon who confirms that a mastectomy is necessary. And lastly, today, I received a text telling me that the surgeon who will put in my port is calling to schedule a consultation. If you are following, that means chemo. I hated that word in 2010 and guess what… still do. In the days to come, I have a mammogram, ultrasound and MRI. I believe the surgeon’s words were, “I want to know what I am up against before I go into surgery.” I do not have a firm plan yet as they are awaiting some results from the biopsy, possibly doing a second biopsy and results from a new genetic test for the BART mutation.

Back to God is good. Do you believe that? Look at even your life. Can you believe that?

I can. And I will. I may be face-down to the throne everyday begging, boldly asking for him to take this away, but with all my heart I will believe He is good. He is love. He is in control.

Stick around, FIGHT4JULIE is back on.

“…Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” Romans 12:9

On this day, March 5th, 2 years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Alyssa asked this morning, “But you had the cancer before that day.” And, yes, I guess I did, but this is the day that marks my knowledge of the disease. And this is the day where our fight began. I am beyond thrilled to say that I am a 2 year survivor today.

Throughout the last year, I have come to realize how blessed I was to be able to fight this disease. How blessed I am to be healthy. As I walked through the shock and my treatments in 2010, I was not really aware at the seriousness of my disease. I was told that I would have a very high survival rate with treatment, so of course I did the treatments recommended. 8 rounds of chemotherapy and 30 days of radiation. I finished, there was no cancer detected in my body, I moved on. It wasn’t until I began to visit doctors here in Austin that I looked head on into the fact that my fight is not over. Two oncologists that I met, suggested yearly CT scans and after reviewing my stats, removal of my ovaries. I was shocked. I thought I was good? They would both explain to me that my young age, the size/type of tumor and that lymph nodes were positive made me high risk. My current oncologist said if I were his wife he would do everything he could to keep the cancer from coming back – hysterectomy, 6mo – 12 mo CT scans, etc. I left the office with just “whoah!” How did I make it this far being so naive about my disease?

Was it naive or faith? Maybe I was just dealing with all I could then and now I can begin to make the best decisions to move forward. I remember a statistic that my TN oncologist gave me based on my exact cancer. He said that in 10 years, I have a 50% chance of being cancer free. For some reason that speaks louder to me today than it did 2 years ago. I am more prepared today to face this head on. I will continue with yearly CT scans. I had my first in February and after too many days of waiting they finally found my results and confirmed everything was clear. I will also be removing my ovaries. Well, not me. My cancer was estrogen/progestrone receptor positive. Which simply means that it fed on those hormones. The fact that my body is still making them is a risk that we don’t want to take. And, I will be able to take a more effective drug if I am post-menopause. But with that comes risks. Removing those hormones from my body at my age puts me at risk for bone loss and heart disease. Did you know that estrogen protects your heart in women under 45? I think Ethan’s words were something like, “Let’s just get you to 10 years. Then we can worry about your heart.” I love that man. And pray with every bone in my body that we grow old together.

The short of this is, “Hallelujah Praise God, he has healed me.” But with trusting and giving him praise there is a part in it for us. Decisions that we can make to keep this cancer away. And in the last few months, we have made those decisions and will move forward fighting and still trusting. Seriously, what else is there without trust in God?

Today, I am a 1 year cancer survivor! Though some of the days through this journey are foggy, I remember the events of this one. After finding the lump, an ultrasound, mammogram and biopsy, I was waiting for the results. I was at MOPS on a Friday morning and anticipating a phone call. With my phone in my lap, I waited. When it rang, I excused myself and answered. It was the nurse calling to tell me that the findings were not clear. My sample had been sent to another doctor at Vanderbilt for his opinion. You see, somehow, I just knew. All along I knew it was something. This moment was confirmation that we are not going to be able to dismiss this today. I remember my sweet friends who had followed me out of the room that day. Standing there to give me a hug without even know what was told to me. I continued on my day until late in the afternoon when my surgeon called. It was then, sitting at my desk, that I began jotting down words like DCIS, invasive, and cancer. It was then, that all the worries and fears had become reality. But it was also then, that God grabbed my hand and walked with me through the next 8 months. Exactly 8 months as I recall it. November 5 was my last radiation treatment… cool.

In 8 months, I felt that God was with me every step. I was scared, worried, hurt, but I was also at peace. A very hard thing to explain if you have never felt it. There was a mountain in front of me. A huge, I have cancer-mountain. How do I climb that? How do I get around it? How do I climb over? From a distance, the mountain seemed impossible to overcome. But day by day, trusting God, the mountain got smaller. I had sections to climb over, but I never felt like I had to climb it all at once. And now, I look back, and I did make it over that mountain. It is back there, I see it. I have learned through some reading that viewing situations through God’s perspective, thanking Him for the challenges in life, and trusting Him makes the hurts of this world bearable. The act of thanking Him opens your mind to the possibility of benefits flowing from my difficulties. And there were definitely benefits from my journey.

I had hoped for more from this post as I laid in bed thinking of it today. I snuck down quietly to have some time to thank God for this day and write a few words. But throughout my thoughtful process, children have awoke. They are hungry, fighting and one of them pooped. So, I guess it is time to be the mommy that God designed me to be. The mommy that He still needs me to be. Thank you for this day, Lord.

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.

Friday, September 3 marked my last day of chemo. A journey that began in May is finally complete. I am not filled with deep thoughts much anymore. I guess that is why my blogging has been scarce. I am living life as it is, and I feel that there is not much else to say about it. But I know few of you are curious. So here are a few thoughts: Yes, I am thrilled that chemo is done. We did have a small celebration party on Friday night, but I did not have this overwhelming sense of relief or completion like it was college graduation. It just felt like another step in a long process. I have 4 weeks off and then I will begin 30 rounds of radiation, 5 days a week for 6 weeks. I handled the chemo very well. The first rounds were my hardest and even then it was just overwhelming fatigue. The last 4 were much easier and found that I really didn’t need to alter my plans any on those weekends and was usually still up for my weekend run with my buddy. My hair has been slowly growing back in for the last 4 weeks or so. It is still thin, but definitely longer. And for a visual, I would probably still look fairly bald from a distance. When I say long, don’t get carried away. Megan pretends that she has a pair of binoculars and says, “Let me see if your hair is growing.” It should began to grow back immediately and I am looking forward to no hats, bands, or scarfs. I have become comfortable with just a baseball cap or even my BondiBand around the house and neighborhood. But to have a head of hair will be great again. All in all, I think I have been one of the lucky ones that has handled this process so well. I won’t chalk it up to diet or nutrition, or even being in shape. But only to God giving me the strength and endurance to make it through this.

The only thing left is to thank you for your prayers and support and now ask for more money. We have created a Fight4Julie Team for the Race for the Cure in Nashville. It is Oct 9 and as of today, Fight4Julie is ranked #10 in the Top Ten Fundraising Teams. I thought that was exciting! We have about 19 on the team currently and are looking forward to a day of celebration and supporting this great cause. If you would like to donate toward our team, go to: Fight4Julie Team . We have raised $2,291.00 and I would love to keep going. Please don’t think a $5 or $10 donation isn’t worth it. Imagine if everyone who read my blog contributed just a little. It would all add up. If you are in the area, we would love to have you sign up with us and walk with other Fight4Julie friends.

Thanks for your support through this all.

I apologize for leaving many of you hanging… surely you knew I made it past Day 2. Day 2 involved a Newlastin shot that tells my bone marrow to make more white blood cells to help me fight off infection. A side effect of the chemo will be that it attacks white, red blood cells and my platelets.  So Day 2, Friday was a little slower, still no nausea. I sat with some friends at a garage sale that afternoon and the story goes that I walked over my normal cheerful self and slowly began to sink lower and lower in my chair. I was “forced” to go home and nap by my good friends and nap I did. Pretty much slept the rest of Friday, but Saturday held a whole new day. I was tired, aching (like the flu), emotional, anxious, worried, uncomfortable. That was the day of  the horrible rains that flooded Nashville, but I was pretty out that day. In hindsight, it really wasn’t too bad, probably very flu-like, but in the moment I felt horrible. Not sure if I could continue with this over and over again. [Keep in mind, I didn’t tell anyone that]. But then Sunday came. It is like the resurrection. I woke up at a normal time, took zero naps that day, ate and felt good. I guess that is the cycle. Day 1 – Day 3 continue to worsen, then Day 4 I begin to build back up. Now that I know what to expect, I may be able to tolerate that Day 3 better.

This week, I went in to get my blood count checked – white, red, platelets. All looked good except my white blood cell count was very low. It is expected, one reason they give the Newlastin shot, and she expects it to climb back up before my next round next week. However, they couldn’t get any blood out of my port. The device they surgical implanted to be able to access the vein easier for treatments. Hopefully it was only a fluke and it will do its job next week. As it stands, me and the port aren’t friends anyway. So, basically low WBC means that I am a risk for infection. So I am doing my best to keep my family healthy and learning to use the hand gel mom has placed all over the house. I ask you to do your part and remember that during treatment, getting sick is a bad thing for me. If you or your kids are even the slightest bit sick, please understand what that could do to my family. I don’t have to keep any of us from crowds, but we just need to use common sense when it comes to germs.

And here is me now. I received a great book from a friend called the Support to Go The Unbook for Breast Cancer. One thing I loved the first day I started it was it told me to write this on my mirror. To wake up and look at that everyday. I don’t have to be 5 years out to claim this. If I heard the news that I have Cancer and did not fall out of my chair and die, then I AM A CANCER SURVIVOR. I loved that. It gave me strength that day. Alyssa wants to write something good on her mirror too. It gives me strength and courage to fight this every day. Because I don’t have to just fight the cancer every other week and chemo. I have to fight it daily. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. It creeps in every day. Right now my fight is as I look forward to my hair falling out. I am anxious. I am scared. I may have a post about it. I may not. I know it will happen. Sometime in the next 7-14 days. I know I will be fine. I will make it as cute as I can. But I am not thrilled about the process. The when and how of it. So not letting the physical aspect of the fight get me down is the prayer request now. And if you find a cute hat and head scarf or fabric, send it on my way. I have high hopes of finishing several head ties, but I am afraid my time is running out. But who knows, maybe I could be the first woman with my type of chemo who doesn’t lose her hair. I think I could give God the glory for that one absolutely!!  Hang with me friends. I have hit mile 3 of my half marathon.

First off, here is me. No explanations needed. I cut my hair. In about 2 weeks I will move to the super cute head wraps that I am making and the few hats I have bought.

Everyday, I try to be ready when Alyssa gets off the bus. Today, I waited by the glass door and we made eye contact before she came in. In the cutest, sweetest voice she asked “How was chemo today?” Man, I love that girl. She is so concerned and protective of me right now and I love it. After being worried that people would laugh at my new haircut, she has now made sure to tell me over and over, “It is so cute, mommy.”

The day went well. We had a slow start just because the doctor was running behind, but once I got my drugs started it was smooth sailing. I sat comfortably in my recliner, worked on a little scrapbooking, texted with my peeps and felt good. Most of the day has been fine. We were outside playing, I ate dinner and only now about 9:00pm, have I started with a headache and little stomach “feeling”. But don’t you worry, I have plenty of meds for that, and I think I will take the one that makes you sleepy and head upstairs. Thank you for caring. Thank you for praying. Today was good and that is all we can ask for. Tomorrow will be its own day.