My Definition of Trauma

I’ve been wrestling with thoughts of mom recently. I can only assume it’s due to Mother’s Day weekend looming. Or who knows, maybe I’m just destined for these thoughts – they’re probably all valid assumptions. I keep coming back to the word “trauma.” That’s a reoccurring theme when it comes to thinking of mom. I know it won’t always be this way, but for now, it’s mostly trauma. 

I suppose I’m still trying to accept the last almost 4 years (she was diagnosed in July 2017 and passed August 2020). It doesn’t seem real. I distinctly remember probably 4 years ago during spring time, I was crossing the bridge near our house and I had the morbid thought, “I would be destroyed if something were to happen to mom.” No real reason to think that, it was just a scary and sad thought. She was such a constant in our lives -- always present in some shape or form. I remember the thought brought me to tears, realizing she was my best friend and feeling so thankful that I could just call her at any time, knowing it was always an instant laugh.

A couple months later, the diagnosis came and my fears started to become real. I know I’m not the only person to lose a mom at such a “young” age and my situation in general, isn’t unique. I put that in quotation marks, because it’s all relative, isn’t it? There are people who’ve lost moms much younger than me - the mothers who failed to see their children grow into adulthood. Then there are those who’ve lost a mom later in life, who have double the memories to reflect on and wish they could have a replay. I’m no authority on what’s worse. I can only speak for myself, and I feel a bit melancholy these days – I had her long enough to see her as an adult, and also what she was like with her grandchildren, but not long enough to endure the teen years with my kids, that I remember going through with her when I was growing up. It feels almost like it was dangled in front of me… teased, so I could catch glimpses of the wonderfulness of having a mother companion to accompany me during these different stages, only to be taken away when we were just getting started.

But that’s only a fragment of the trauma. The real trauma came the last month of her life. After years of battling, a severe case of shingles made us stop chemo because her body couldn’t handle fighting all of it at the same time. We tried to so hard to get her skin to heal, and to build her strength back up so that she could resume the chemo, but we couldn’t get it done quickly enough. And unfortunately, the cancer just took advantage with no chemo in play. The most noticeable takeover was her brain. That last month wasn’t my mom. She lost the ability to eat (physically – she could no longer feed herself) and her appetite just waned anyway. She sometimes didn’t know where she was, who I was, and she couldn’t walk well enough to get her to the bathroom. She began imagining people and things. I was exhausted because I knew what was happening, but you feel so torn as the caregiver. Do I help and coerce her to keep fighting, even though her mind isn’t really hers anymore, or do I just let nature take over and try my best to make sure she doesn’t suffer?

Sure, I could’ve fed her like a child for a little longer, convincing her that a few bites would help her feel better, or that it would taste SO good. But it wasn’t true. Nothing had tasted good for so long at that point, and with everything that was happening to her body, eating a few bites of food would probably be just enough to make her mad (as she would have said before). So I began to accept that hospice was right. Prolonging the inevitable was me keeping her here longer for my sake, not for her sake anymore. Because anyone that knew mom, knew that being treated like a child was NOT what she wanted, and she would’ve been mortified if she registered how dependent she had become on myself and the nurses. The damage done by the cancer was beyond reversible. There was just so much of it at that point.

But the thing that sticks with me the most, was seeing how strong her body still was. If only we could’ve caught the spread to her brain sooner, and maybe done something about the fluid that had built up in her lungs, how much longer could we have had her? Or maybe she at least would’ve been more herself leading up to her final days. She still had the energy to push that walker around, even attempting to mow us over so she could “go home,” even though we were standing in her bedroom.

I had never been with someone as they passed away. So when it happened, I just accepted that what I witnessed was typical, and that it was peaceful. But it wasn’t until 6 weeks later when I also witnessed my grandmother passing in her sleep at hospice, that I realized that THAT was a peaceful passing. Grandmama’s body just gave out at 87 years old, combined with bladder cancer. She was medicated so that her body could finally rest, so she just peacefully slept, until around 4am when I heard her breathing slow. Then finally, she just took one final breath, and she was gone. I was almost shocked at how different those experiences were. And then I was completely bothered as I reflected back on mom’s final moments.

That day with mom was awful. Upon the daily check-in, the nurse noticed that her breathing had sped up. Almost like you would see when a fish is out of water. She was still sleeping, but her breathing was rapid at the check-in around 9:30am. We tried to change her clothes after her bath, but any type of movement agitated her and her breathing really went crazy. I camped out at her side until the end at that point. Her breathing continued that way until she passed at 1:13pm. It never slowed. The only indication was the way her lungs sounded when she breathed. I realized when Grandmama passed gradually by just slowed breathing and a final small exhale, that mama’s passing was very different. I now believe mom's lungs filled up with fluid (which was the way it sounded, but I couldn’t explain it then). The best way to describe what I mean is to imagine filling up a jug of water. If you close your eyes, you can hear it getting full as it reaches the top. That’s what it was like, and I could hear it in her last minute. But in her final moment, she opened her eyes wide for the first time in I don’t know how long and looked up to the sky, stretching her neck upwards. She was fighting to breathe, even with all of that morphine – and her eyes sprung open. And then she was gone. There was no more room in those lungs and ultimately, it was as if she drowned. I don’t think she suffered, so please don’t think that. There was no gasping. But it made me see how strong she still was. Had it not been for the fluid in those lungs, and her mind switching gears to prepare for her final days, how long could her body have kept going?

So that’s the trauma. Those are the questions that plague me on a daily basis. But thanks to friends that were by my side (virtually) through all of that, they remind me of the funny stories that occurred in that time too. Like when mom’s mind was playing tricks on her at the dinner table, and she was convinced we were there to celebrate her birthday (the month was July – and her birthday is in June). So naturally, we tried to make her feel special and we sang happy birthday and I think we may have even had cake? I truly don’t remember details, but the kids were happy to oblige. Or the time she was still trying to make her own coffee (complete with a scoop of miralax for obvious reasons), and instead of dumping the scoop in her brewed cup of coffee to mix, she dumped it into the entire coffee can. She laughed so hard, and so did I eventually. So I had to make a decision of whether I wanted to attempt to separate the white granuals from the coffee grounds in effort to save all of that coffee, or just toss it. (It’s a mystery that only me and mom know -- haha)

I’m sure other memories will emerge that weren’t as traumatic, but for now – it’s still raw. I still miss her immensely and Craig reminded me just last week, that missing her will never go away, but at some point, I’ll remember MORE of the good times. Right now though, I still find myself thinking of certain things, and it’s usually followed with “That was before mom died” or “That was after mom died.” That’s how I date things. But even so, I find myself in disbelief that the words “mom” and “died” are in the same sentence. 

She was such a force in my life and obviously still remains that way, but also, I feel so lucky to have had a mom that I miss so much. I know not everyone gets to have that relationship with their mom, but I’ve just resigned myself to the fact that I need to stop apologizing for finding myself to be a bit selfish in wanting more time with that crazy lady. And her mama too.

 

After Mom Died

"After mom died.." That's where I am now. It's also a phrase that's hard to get used to. Or when telling a story, and having to say "before mom died.." It just doesn't seem real. I imagine that feeling will fade somewhat, but I can't imagine it not stinging as the words come out. It almost feels like some sort of religious event in history... Before Mom/After Mom. My world was totally different then and now. That traumatic event will probably shape me for the rest of my life, so in a way, it's fitting.

I've also come to realize that just being with mom was home. It didn't matter where we were - I felt like I belonged when I was with her. From Wrightsville Beach, to Carolina Beach, to Disney World, to Atlanta, to Vegas, to New Orleans, to NYC, to Canada, to UNC Hospital. And like a mom, she always had what I forgot at home, stashed away in those huge pocketbooks she carried around. So now when I try to do all of the things that I did before when I was with her... I feel a bit like a fish out of water. Even just being with family... I find myself looking around for mom. That's something that resonates from infancy, doesn't it? I was always a mama's baby. She would tell me she used to sleep in a recliner with me on a pillow on her stomach when I was a baby. And then as I got older, I was always still right underneath her, constantly looking for her if I wasn't next to her. As I continued to get older, naturally I became more independent, but no matter what, I usually always ended up being right next to mom before too much time passed.

Even through college, I would call her and tell her about funny things that happened, or have more serious talks... like when I had to call and break the news to her when I failed a class my senior year. I think, in a way, she was just thankful I wasn't crying because I was pregnant or something. I feel like pregnancy before settling down is one of the top 5 biggest fears for a mom. Not because it never works out, but just because it's really hard and changes your life forever. So when I told her the circumstances of me failing a class, she was concerned but we laughed about it before we hung up. We could always find the absurdity of our circumstances humorous - after I had kids, this seemed to amplify. We always felt that staying upset about something wasn't very productive. Don't get me wrong - she would stew about things, but she could always laugh about it too.

I feel like that's the biggest part that's missing. Me being able to talk about everyday things and laugh hysterically about them, despite the hardships. I keep waiting for the conversation to happen, that shifts this profound sadness to laughing. Obviously, that will never come when she facilitates that conversation, but it tends to keep me in a sad place that usually could be smoothed over by our talks.

As we reached the end of mom's journey, I found myself reflecting on the months leading up to it. Nothing was sudden. She just slowly deteriorated in front of me, and it made me realize that I couldn't remember her "last times." 

Like - when was the last belly laugh we shared? When was the last time I saw her walk unassisted? When was the last time we shared a cup of coffee together, had a REAL conversation that made sense, and watched the Today show like we always did when I was with her in the mornings? When was the last time I called her, just to say hi as I was riding in the car, or had a moment in the mornings to call her when the kids were distracted? When was the last time she truly enjoyed a meal, and didn't force down food just to please us? When was the last time she went to one of her favorite places - the beach - and got to see the ocean? Chemo kept her away for the most part, but she would occasionally go rock on the porch at my Aunt Claudia's beach house while visiting. And when did I officially go from one of her favorite people to be around, to "Nurse Ratchet" as she liked to lovingly refer to me, as I became primarily a caregiver, and a daughter and friend second. When was the last book she read to my kids? When was the last time she cooked a meal by herself, when I was able to sit and watch her buzz around the kitchen, without fear of her hurting herself or needing assistance? When was the last time I saw her name pop up on my phone to alert me of a text message from "Mama?" When was the last time I got a facebook notification, telling me she tagged me in another recipe that we would never try, or a funny meme that only we thought was funny? When was the last time I saw her rocking in her recliner and while casually skimming through her ipad?

That's the problem with being the caregiver. You see it all. You're there everyday and you don't notice when things will never be the same. It just gradually happens and then you realize after it's too late. It seems like just a bad day at first, then you realize it was actually the end of a chapter instead of just a plot twist. 

Aside from missing her more than I can say, those are the things that I regret not noticing. I was so consumed with taking care of her and making sure nothing was overlooked, and taking care of my kids in between those times, that I missed a lot. But I'm happy to report that I had help. My husband has been my hero during all of this. He picked up the slack when I forgot school things, when I didn't have the energy to cook, when I needed a break. He did it all too, while also working his normal job during a pandemic, grieving for the mother-in-law that he loved, and watched her slowly slip away from us during the chaos. He didn't question me when he would offer a suggestion of me taking a break, and I was firm in my response, "I'm not leaving." He would just nod and he helped however else he could. It was awful and uncomfortable for him, as he's also never lost someone close to him. But he didn't have a lot of time to register what was happening, while he was taking care of me, while I was taking care of her. I witnessed the shock on his face at the dinner table one night, as the cancer slowly took over her brain and she couldn't even feed herself anymore. It was more obvious to him in that moment because he wasn't quite as involved in her care, as he was of mine and our children's care.

We also had family and friends that stepped in and helped in so many ways, as best as they could during the COVID pandemic. From taking the kids for the day, to providing meals and gift cards, to lining up cleaning services so that was one less thing that I had to do around their house, to sending boxes of food and goodies to snack on throughout our time there, to just being at the house, helping me make sure mom was safe as we tried to move her, and distracting the kids from time to time so that I had time to just sit with mom on occasion. I found it hard to tear myself away from her, but it wasn't physically possible to be in there for every breath, no matter how much I insisted I wasn't going to miss one.

The nights began to feel like I was taking care of a newborn. You'd tuck her in for the night, not knowing if you'd be awoken in the middle of the night to tend to her. Was it going to be a smooth night or a rough night with a lot of broken sleep? It got to the point where we discovered someone needed to sleep in the room with her to try to prevent her from hurting herself, in case she insisted on getting up. Her cousin, Debbie, and I started rotating nights, sleeping in the recliner beside her bed for the last 2 weeks or so. 

She stopped talking, or noticing if the TV was on, or if there was a light on in her room, since she was always scared of the dark and had some sort of light on at night, always. I guess I should say that I'm not sure if she noticed towards the end, but we continued to keep the TV on, and the lights on, because we knew it's what she wanted regardless. We continued to dress her in her favorite shirts that were always in her comfy clothes rotation.

She always wore shirts that were entirely too big, because that was what was most comfortable to her. I always giggled when she'd ask people if certain clothes came in a size "chubby." She never hit that goal weight (who knows what that actually was, but she always negatively commented on pictures of herself), and she always insisted that she needed bigger sizes as she called herself "fluffy." I wish she would have agreed with us when we would insist that we loved her just the way she was. When the kids reflect on her now and in the future, I guarantee they'll never comment on her stomach or bottom like she always would, but instead, they'll reflect on the way she would hug and kiss all over them when they'd run to embrace her, or crawl in her lap. Or the way they'd read through books and laugh as they found new ways to read them, or pronounce words. Her laugh was the best, and the kids eventually fell in sync with her, when after a big, belly laugh... they would all sigh in unison. And then start laughing all over again because they all sighed at the same time. She'd always watch Millie, playing and she'd say "She's so smart!" Or she'd rock with Chase in her recliner and say "Are you my baybay?" And he'd always say "yes." And then when I would get back to my house, I'd rock with Chase and say "Are you my baybay?" And he'd say "Yeah, but I'm Anna's baybay too." For the record, he still says it.

I just miss her. No I don't cry all the time anymore, but I do still cry in certain moments. I'm sure that'll always be the case, but I truly don't think there will ever be a time that I don't simply miss her. I dread the holidays. I dread the birthdays. I'll try my best to make her famous cream cheese poundcake, but I'm sure it won't taste the same. That's another awful thing that comes with the territory - dreading the things I used to look forward to because mom always had a way of making special days feel warm and cozy. I know the kids will still provide holiday magic, but I remember glancing at mom last year as the kids were opening her Christmas presents and the tears in her eyes were welling up. I think maybe she sensed this might be the last time. I'm sure that was always in the back of her mind anyway. Craig recorded a video of me catching her getting teary. It's such a sad, but special moment to be able to watch now. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. Especially in the year 2020 - the worst year ever.

Mama's Eulogy from her Graveside Service on August 11th, 10am

“It is well with my soul” 

Paraphrased, these were the words mom said to her cousin, Chris, back in May. I had no idea the conversation took place but was so happy when Chris told me about it a couple weeks ago when things were really grim. I probably don’t have to tell y’all that mom wasn’t one to talk about serious things — end of life included. I tried getting the palliative care doctor to help me have conversations with her and somehow she always ended up shifting the conversation and she’d be joking about something not really even relevant. I still don’t know how she did that. 

That was her though - she was great at making even the worst conversations bearable. A snide comment here, and a witty comeback there and we’d be laughing til we cry. And we would relive the conversation several more times more and laugh just as hard later, or we’d try to retell the story to some unfortunate person. It’s strange but no one really laughed as hard as we did and we’d always comment that it’s never as funny when you have to explain it. And then we’d probably laugh some more. I remember looking back on some Facebook comments, remembering how hard we laughed when we made them. It seems like yesterday, but also so long ago as I try to remember why it was so funny. We would just get in moods and find the simplest things hilarious. I know I’m not the only one who has experienced this with her. She just had a way of talking that made her commentary entertainment by itself. If we were able to turn our trips to ATL for chemo into us flying around the cancer center in a wheelchair while laughing and carrying on, then it’s safe to say that nothing was really out of bounds. I will say that she never really appreciated my wheelchair driving. 

I loved that she was able to gracefully make fun of herself - she never took herself too seriously. She would wave at someone and then do that really squawky sound as she pointed out her flappy arm fat. Then she’d really draw attention by energetically waving to everyone saying she was a flying squirrel. Or the time we were in Disney World and we rode this crazy coaster that put us in a little car that moved through — Winnie the Pooh I think, really scary… There was a part of the ride that I noticed had a mirror as we slowly rode past it. I then realize mom is waving frantically and saying “Oh that lady has the same shirt as me!” I had never laughed so hard while I tried to explain she had been looking at herself in the mirror. 

She was just the best to be around and she would often surprise me with details about herself here and there. I didn’t find out until this past fall that before she got into a bad car accident when she was around 17 years old, that she had been taking flying lessons and originally wanted to become a pilot. Can you imagine mom as a pilot? She would have to work for Southwest or something because there is zero chance that she would conform to those boring rants they have to do on those other commercial flights. She had way too much twang - I don’t even know if they’d be able to understand her. And does anyone know if there was a height requirement, because that could also be a problem. At all of her doctor’s appointments, she would try her BEST to tell them she was 5’1”. I guess it didn’t matter much because they never checked and I got tired of correcting her, so I stopped. It obviously meant a lot to her, so over the last year, I gave her those precious 2 inches. 

I know there are so many stories that are worth sharing from Vegas, the beach, childhood, parenthood, and everything in between that we’d be here all day reminiscing about her and how much we will miss her. I hope we continue to talk about her - all the time. The bottom line was that she loved to laugh. If she was laughing, she was having fun. I hope that we can take a lesson away from her in that you should retire early if you can, because you never know what life will bring after that long sought after retirement. Then take all of the trips, eat all of the cake, and finally, fried chicken everyday is acceptable - especially if it’s her mama’s or from bojangles. 

Our family really appreciates all of you coming out here to remember and celebrate mama. She would be be grateful and humbled, and maybe surprised to see a few faces. And we are grateful and humbled too, but not surprised at the faces. She was loved beyond measure.

Turning the Page

As I read my last blog entry, it truly feels like a lifetime ago. It was written before the pandemic took over, and while we were still hopeful that we would soon hit more stability in mama's journey. The last 4 months have been so crazy. Trying to juggle this new way of life where we rarely leave home with our 4 and 6 year olds, and can barely see any of our friends and family beyond Facetime or technology has been daunting by itself. But when you couple that with schooling, and trying to care for my mom who is battling metastatic breast cancer, who also lives with my 87 year old grandmother. It's a recipe for chaos and ever-changing plans.

Over the last month, mama ended up with the shingles. She started to have severe pain on her side, and we assumed, and before we knew what we were dealing with AND based on scans and history of bones breaking due to cancer spreading, that perhaps her rib had completely fractured (it had showed signs of disease in all of her past scans). Since there's not much you can do for a broken rib, her doctors decided to start her on oxycodone until we could figure out what's going on. At the very least - they wanted to relieve some of the pain. Mom is allergic to codeine so we were wary about her dosage and monitoring her closely. She began taking it and after 24 hours, she seemed to be experiencing no side effects, but the same pain was present unfortunately. I left to go home for a couple days, only to return quickly when mom began complaining of a bad rash. I immediately thought it was a reaction to the codeine, so we stopped that and started on a different pain med. Nothing was helping. We did a video call with one of the nurses and showed her the rash, and she was able to quickly determine that it was shingles.

Typically it takes about 2 weeks to cycle through that, but because mom's immune system was so suppressed, she is STILL battling over a month into this. The nerve pain takes her breath away and she cringes as she waits for the burning sensation to subside. About 1 week in, she began sleeping so much, and eating so little that I got very concerned about the overall picture. Not only that, but we could not continue her chemo while she was so weak and still healing from the blisters that we could NOT get to heal on her back -- no matter what I tried. We took her to UNC for fluids and a check, only to find out the shingles on her back had become infected. So we had to start a new round of antibiotics on top of everything else. At this point, she is taking so many meds and I had to take over managing that as well.

Because she was due for scans soon anyway and we were so concerned with mom's overall stamina, the doctor went ahead and ordered the scans then, to see where we were with the cancer progression. Unfortunately, it was determined that the cancer had not been responding to the new carboplatin regimen, and we needed to discontinue. Her doctor said that there was one more treatment we could try (just recently approved by FDA), but mom was nowhere near strong enough to receive it. So we took a 2 week break to try to get her moving around and strong enough to receive the treatment. Unfortunately (again), it was determined this week that she had not regained her strength very much at all, after a LOT of effort of her part.

Because of this, we have made the difficult decision to transition her care to hospice. This does NOT mean that mom is giving up. She is such a fighter, but we realized after talking to the doctors that if we have any chance of mom rebounding, then it would be through hospice's help. They will just come into her home for now in Wilmington, and visit and assess things as we go. If a nurse is determined to not be needed as much, then we can dial back care. I just finally realized that my nursing skills alone (I am not trained at all), were not doing her any favors. It feels like I'm just keeping her above water, but that's about it. It will be a comfort to know that no matter which way things go, we have the support of hospice to help guide us in whatever direction we are taken. We are basically living with her for now, while the kids don't have any obligations in school and sports -- thanks to COVID. Sometimes, it's strange to see how terrible things can somehow turn into blessings.

The kids have handled it like champs, but some days are harder than others. They are still grappling with what's going on with their Anna, as well as getting stir crazy in a house where they can't always be their normal 4 and 6 year old selves. Fortunately, my best friend's family (shoutout to the amazing Musser family) has a pool that they graciously let us swim in whenever we want, so I get the kids out of the house as frequently (and safely) as possible to give everyone a break. That leaves Craig to work at mom's in a slightly more quiet setting, while also being there in case anything happens with mama or grandmama. I'm only 2 miles away if I need to return home for anything when we go to the pool. On a positive note, Millie can now swim the length of their pool without my help.  🙌 Chase still flops around like a drowning chicken, so no luck there. Still working on it though. 😜

At any rate, this is a tough chapter to say the very least. We are obviously limiting visitors at this time because of COVID, but if anyone would like to send a video of well wishes or a card, let me know and I can make sure those get to her. She still has her sense of humor through all of this and we love her for it. Also, we've found that the kids LOVE getting mail too, so if anyone wants to send them a short and fun letter, please do! Millie can read now and is continuing to work on her handwriting, so reading and responding to letters is a good activity for her currently. Chase loves to doodle a snowman so I'm sure he would love to share his artwork as well. Anything to take their minds off all of this. I tried taking them to the beach, but it was WAY too crowded for my comfort, so we are rather limited.

Thank you to everyone who has been checking in. I try to answer all of the questions that come my way but sometimes they get lost in the madness. So sorry if I'm ever short with anyone with my responses. It is not intentional - there is just a lot going on, but I appreciate the love, thoughts, and prayers. Please know that. 💕

A New Chapter for Mama

It's been a while since I've updated, and that's been because of a GOOD thing -- Mom's status has been stable ever since we got the hip debacle taken care of. The scans would show no progression, so we would just continue on the current path with chemo + immunotherapy every other week, followed by scans every so often. Around Thanksgiving, we had an iffy scan and we were unsure what it showed - it was either progression in her lung, or an infection. They prescribed medication to help with what we hoped was just an infection in her lung, and we continued with treatment as normal.

That seemed to do the trick and we continued on like usual. All was well, but we decided to switch from the Cancer Treatment Center in ATL to the UNC Cancer Hospital in Chapel Hill this past January -- mainly for convenience purposes, and also because she switches to medicare in June and CTCA can no longer help with travel expenses at that point, so we knew a change was inevitable. She has a great doctor at UNC who is really well versed in Triple Negative Breast Cancer, so we feel lucky to be treated there, and it's slightly easier travel wise. Or it was.

Over the last month or so, I started noticing little things with Mom. Mainly memory issues and noticing her coordination and balance seemed off. Nothing major but it was just different, so I made a comment to the NP when we were there for her treatment. They ordered a brain MRI right away, and a couple days later, we got the results back and they were what we feared -- her cancer has spread to her brain.

I know that sounds so scary, and honestly it is. BUT mom is doing really well, considering. They decided to halt chemo + immunotherapy for now, and she's currently undergoing whole brain radiation, and they'll start chemo + immunotherapy back towards the end of the month. They also prescribed a steroid to reduce the swelling in her brain, so that should help with some of the symptoms. They also prescribed her some meds that help Alzheimer's patients, and they hope that helps with the issues she's having with short-term memory.

In addition to that, they have a new technique with whole brain radiation where they can skip over the  hippocampus, which plays a major role with memory. So hopefully all of these things combined will help preserve her short-term memory that she's been struggling with lately. The big takeaway is that the cancer is getting smarter (progressing in her brain, but no signs of progression in her body according to her most recent CTs in January), and it's getting more aggressive.

All in all, we are doing okay -- they don't want her driving for now, but she is hoping that's temporary. But obviously, that makes things a tad harder since she's in Wilmington and everything is in Chapel Hill, but it's nothing we can't handle. If we can just convince mom it's not that big of a deal when we come down to get her or take her back. 😉 Plus, she can come and stay with me whenever she wants, and she does that too! The kids love it. #silverlining 💞

Cycle 3 Treatment Complete

Another uneventful trip to the Cancer Treatment Center in Atlanta! Actually, the most stressful part was wondering how our travel to ATL would be affected with Hurricane Dorian lingering off the coast. Fortunately, we really didn't see any delays due to weather and everything was pretty calm when we returned home afterwards. We are very grateful for the small victories when we get them.

Mom's tumor markers continue to decline (as revealed in her labs), so we press on with her immunotherapy/chemotherapy combination treatment since it's continuing to make a difference. I am constantly intrigued about what happens when things kind of plateau, because her numbers are getting lower (that's good), even venturing into the "normal" range. So, I'm wondering what happens when her numbers get as low as they're going to go. This type of treatment in breast cancer is so new, I think it's hard to really know what comes next, but we are happy that she is in a stable period now.

She's still battling side effects after treatment, but it is SO predictable with what to expect, down to the day and time of day she can expect to feel the worst. When she gets treatment on a Wednesday afternoon, you can expect Saturday night into Sunday morning to be her worst time. However, when she gets treatment on Thursday afternoon, it's Sunday night into Monday morning. By Sunday afternoon/Monday afternoon, she begins to rebound a bit and it gradually gets better as the week progresses.

That is also something to be grateful for, since she can start planning to try to have a normal life during the expected good periods before her next treatment. She currently has 2 trips planned for this month, and I know she's relieved to do something other than recover from a hip replacement, prep for a hurricane, or travel for cancer treatment. Things to look forward to are always a plus, so we will continue to make plans for her into the Fall season! I smell a Vegas trip in her future. 😛💸

Reminder: **If you plan to leave a comment on THIS blog, please make sure you sign your name with the comments because we can't tell who it's from if you don't! I'd love to relay your well wishes to her and it definitely lifts her spirits! 💞 

Start of Cycle 3!

Another boring trip to ATL in the books! Those are the ones we like. We were able to meet with mom's same crew of doctors, except for her new oncologist - she is a new addition.

We got there on Tuesday morning (super early) and waited basically all day for mom to get her labs, and then get a CT. On Wednesday, she had her [now usual] echocardiogram to see if the effusion on her pericardium was any bigger. Her cardiologist, Dr. Glass, was pleased to see that it actually looked like it was possibly a bit smaller this time. Hayyyy! 🙌That was the first bit of good news for the trip (but wait, there's more..)!

After that appointment, we met with Dr. Parks, her pulmonary doctor. We cannot say enough good things about this doctor. He is SO thorough, so pleasant, and apparently very good at what he does because he has really helped mom's cough. 🎉He lets us see Mom's scans and will show us basically anything we want to see and takes as much time as we need. He also does his best to explain everything until we understand what he is saying. And this time, he showed us Mom's most recent CT and he said the nodules in her lungs do look to be a little smaller from the impromptu scan a month before. Not only that, but the fluid at the bottom of her lung was almost completely gone! When all of this started again in May, she had a lymph node that sits between her lungs and it was enlarged (because we found out there was a tumor), BUT now there is no evidence that is enlarged anymore. There still may be something in there, but it seems to have shrunk at the least.

So, what does all of this mean?!

Well, after hearing that her labs showed that 2 of her tumor markers had come down AGAIN, basically to normal levels, on top of everything else, I somehow got my hopes up that they would say to Mom, "Hey, you're probably exhausted after everything you've endured this summer - let's take a break and monitor." Looking back, that was not my smartest assumption, because the treatment is clearly working, so of course, they wouldn't just stop when it could possibly reduce her numbers and tumors even more. So, we met with her new oncologist, Dr. Pabatthi, and her recommendation was to stay the current course, and to do another CT in November. So, we told her that we were hoping there'd be a break sooner than that. She did say that if Mom decided she just needed to skip a treatment or 2 to regain her strength and a better mentality (if it got to that point because for now, she is actually feeling pretty good, considering), they said that they would gladly pause the treatment. But, it didn't sound like they would be recommending her to stop treatment, unless symptoms got worse, or unless there was evidence that the cancer began progressing again (probably indicative through labs).

My one disappointment this trip was in meeting her new oncologist. She was friendly and everything you'd want in an oncologist in that regard, but it seemed like she was literally reading mom's chart for the first time in front of us. We had to correct her several times on details, and it didn't do a lot for my confidence level. There was one thing she said when mom and I looked at each other in a panic because it went against everything that we heard in the previous appointment. It's early, but that really did put a damper on my first impression. Clearly there are worse things, so I'm just trying to be grateful for the good things that came from the trip. 

She is still getting around pretty well on her hip, and I even noticed when I got to her house last week, that she was moving around considerably better. So really, it's progress all around. 😌

Here's hoping we have more boring trips to ATL in our future, that bring only good news. We do have a fun trip to New Orleans planned for the end of September with some cousins, so we have something to look forward to... and something for mom to work towards so that she is able to walk around and enjoy the bayou with ease. 🐊

2nd Treatment - 2nd Cycle Complete

I'm late with an update, but that can be seen as good news -- not much to report and things have been relatively "normal." Well, as normal as can be under these circumstances. Her tumor markers have continued to come down as of last week, as evidenced by her lab work (more good news!). We will get the routine CT scan next week, since she'll have completed 2 whole cycles, to see what progress has been made in size and number of tumors. As long as the tumors seem to be responding (in a positive way), she will continue to get both the immunotherapy and chemotherapy. We were told they will likely only stop if she stops responding or her health gets worse.

She has slowly started to adapt to the side effects and it's very uniform in the way that it affects her. She gets her treatment on Wednesday, and usually by Saturday night, she's feeling her worst. By Sunday night into Monday, she can tell she's over the hump and starting to feel better. The only real obstacle at that point is getting her hip to cooperate. She still has good days and bad days with regard to progress there. She's noticed that once she can get up and get moving, she moves pretty well! She still is on the slow side, because her breathing can give her problems, but we are slowly seeing improvements there as well -- thanks to the excellent care she's getting from her pulmonary doctor at CTCA. She only uses a cane when we go to ATL, and she doesn't really use it much. She likes to carry it though because she says it lets people know that she's got something going on, and she isn't just dilly-dallying through the airport and other places (for you non-southerners that read this and may not be familiar with the term, dilly-dallying means fiddle-farting, mosying, lolly-gagging, etc)😜. I told mom she should just get a little orange flag to dangle behind her to let people know to "CAUTION." 😂 #beepbeepbeep

So, the best case scenario from this point is that the tumors can't be seen anymore in the CT and we can take a break from the chemo (and they would continue the immunotherapy alone -- which means she ideally wouldn't feel as bad, and she may even get her hair back!). To be clear -- we aren't expecting this outcome at this point, but miracles do happen from time to time. A step down from that would be that the tumors are getting smaller and they think they can still do better by getting them even smaller with more chemo and immunotherapy, and we continue on as we have been. I'm not sure if there's a point when they would suggest she not do anything at all, but there's always that hope (assuming that doesn't implicate that things are going south, of course).

Another thing that's changed is that she gets a new oncologist next week. Her previous doctor (Dr. Alvarez, aka - Dr. Ricky 😂) took another job back in Houston to continue his ongoing research in the metastatic breast cancer field. We will miss him so much as he has been a constant in our lives for the last 2 years in some capacity, but the work he is doing will help so many people like Mom. We definitely encourage him to press on in that line of work!

But that's it for the most part. She's still chugging along like she always has and she's just as fiesty as ever! 😉The little things that family and friends have done to help, have meant a lot to all of us, and especially her. Everything from the odd jobs around the house, the meals and food that have been brought by, the visits, and the cards and messages of support have been lovely. Thank y'all so much! 💗

3rd Treatment - Starting 2nd Cycle!

Like the superhero that mom is, she finished up her in-patient rehab therapy for her hip in record time! So I had to scoot on back to Atlanta on Monday afternoon, but I wasn't able to get there in time to help the staff actually move her to the one of the CTCA hotels unfortunately. So, by the time I got to her, she was completely worn out. I also think being down there last week, without anyone she knew took a toll on her as well (as it would anyone)! Before I left, she insisted she didn't need anyone down there while she was working so hard on getting to walk again, but sometimes, there's something to be said for just having someone there, if nothing else, to advocate for you.

Anyway, she made it through regardless, but lesson learned. So on Tuesday we headed to see her oncologist -- good ol' Dr. Ricky. His name is actually Ricardo Alvarez, but mom and I get a kick out of calling him "Dr. Ricky" (not to his face, although we have resigned ourselves to the fact that we will probably slip up and call him that one day). Back to the story - mom was still reeling from the previous week, tired and just overall not feeling well. Something else to note is that mom has been having significant breathing issues. When we saw Dr. Ricky on Tuesday, he noted her weakness, and the fact that she had lost 10 lbs since all of this started 2 weeks ago. So he decided postpone chemo for that day, and to run a CT that night to make sure nothing significant was going on that x-rays weren't picking up. She was too weak for a chemo treatment since it will take you down a notch, which isn't good when you are already down in the pits. But, the CT of her lungs showed well surprisingly, but it did reveal an effusion around her heart. 

He called us after 9pm that night to tell us those results, but didn't seem overly concerned. But hindsight, I think he just didn't want to worry us so we could rest well before the next day began. As soon as we made it to the CTCA the next morning, we get a phone call that she is to report to the cardiology department ASAP, and to push all other appointments to the side. So we rushed to cardiology and they did an echocardiogram immediately with a cardiologist and determined that while there is fluid, it doesn't seem to impacting her heart function. Something to keep an eye on, but it doesn't appear to be the culprit for her breathing issues. A relief but we were frustrated that we still couldn't get to the bottom of the breathing issue. They have scanned her I-don't-know-how-many times to make sure nothing crazy is going on, and there isn't any major issue that they can find (and I am so thankful for their diligence in this). What they THINK is happening, per her pulmonary doctor at CTCA, is that there is inflammation in the lungs occurring, due to her immunotherapy, which we knew was a risk. It was a very low risk, but leave it to mom to defy the odds! 😉 

So, there were a couple options, and they decided (pulmonary and oncology together) to continue with treatment, but with a low-dose steroid to combat the inflammation, while also not offsetting the immunotherapy... which is targeting her cancer directly, via the PD-L1 biomarker. The GOOD news in all of this is that looking at her tumor marker from her labs, as well as the the impromptu CT that she wasn't supposed to get until after 2 more treatments, is that she seems to responding well to treatment! If she could just continue to get stronger with her walking and get her breathing under control, we are hoping it means she will get a treatment break once she is done with this next month's cycle (consists of 2 treatments, with 1 of those completed on Wednesday).

Wednesday and Thursday were significantly better with regard to her demeanor and just overall feeling better, and she was finally eating. So she got her chemo treatment on Wednesday, we had a follow-up visit with ortho, and she got her stitches out of her hip, and we went straight to the airport to GET HER HOME! Y'all I was worried on Monday. I mean, truly scared, because mom just seemed so worn out and defeated. I had no idea how I was going to get her around to these appointments, much less back to Wilmington with her feeling so bad. I am so grateful that she bounced back the way she did. Like I said - superhero! 💪💪💪 #stronglikemama

Where to Start?

So much has happened since I last updated, it's hard to know where to start. If you'll remember in my last update, I mentioned that mom was having a terrible time walking. She couldn't put any weight on her right leg to get around, and was using a walker all of the time, and a wheelchair when we were going through airports and in ATL. Her primary care physician (PCP) in Wilmington had diagnosed her with bursitis several weeks ago, and given her a shot in her hip, and some anti-inflammatory medication to help with the pain, but NOTHING was giving her relief. They also tried to give her a steroid but that would negate the immunotherapy treatment that she's undergoing, so we refused that medication.

When we last saw the oncologist a couple weeks ago, I begged him to look further, because the PCP's diagnosis of bursitis just didn't make sense anymore. He agreed, but they couldn't fit her in for an MRI until we returned for her next treatment. I tried to get her into a local clinic in Wilmington, but couldn't get it worked out since you can't just walk in somewhere and ask for an MRI and the hoops to jump through were never-ending and by the time, I could've got it worked out - it was time to go to ATL. Long story, but she decided to wait until we went back to ATL last week and an MRI revealed that her hip was actually FRACTURED -- completely in half from what they said the x-ray revealed. It was at the neck of the femur where it meets the socket. It was no wonder, at that point, why she was experiencing so much pain without any relief whatsoever.

So, chemo/immunotherapy was postponed and she was admitted to the hospital that night (Tuesday night), and we waited for 3 days for them to finally get surgery lined up on Friday afternoon. They completely replaced her right hip. She was extremely foggy coming out of that surgery/the anesthesia and we had to recap for her what was going on -- it scared the daylights out of me when she saw us and just started crying! She was so confused, but we got her straightened out. Jeremy was able to come down for a couple days and be with us while we waited for surgery, and it was nice to have someone to eat with and talk to, since mom was resting pretty well with the pain meds they were giving her during those days (hence the humorous Facebook post that prompted a lot of discussion about an unbelievable pimple popping trend that apparently warrants a TV show -- GROSS🙅🙅). Nonetheless, I know she was exhausted after not having any pain relief over the last month. 

I finally came home on Sunday, and her cousin Chris decided to drop in and take my place, to help keep her company while she waited for discharge. I would've stayed longer but Millie started Kindergarten on Monday, and I was quite teary at the thoughts of missing it. I would like to think that all of this going on was a big contributing factor to my being a ball of tears as I walked out of Millie's classroom on Monday... and at drop off the next day, and the next day, but I know for a fact that I was going to be a mess regardless. No sense in blaming it on mom. 😉

Mom was finally discharged yesterday, and sent to a rehab facility close to the Cancer Treatment Center. She will have 3 hrs of rehab a day, and just stay there at the facility to make sure that she is getting all of the help she needs. Especially since I can't be there this week, with Craig traveling for work. I think they have her scheduled to be in the rehab facility for almost 2 weeks, but we're hoping she'll heal quickly and be released sooner so she can continue to get her chemo/immunotherapy treatment. We don't know how this break in treatment will affect things, but we can't control it so there's no need in worrying, I suppose. (But honestly, who are we kidding... I worry over everything. #ownit) 

Mom is also trying to get her strength and energy back, since she hasn't been able to do anything since the pain started on her birthday June 14, of all days. So she's building up her breathing/lung strength again (she gets very winded when she does any sort of activity). We are hoping for a full recovery on all fronts, so that we can get treatment, and life in general, back on track.  Thank you to everyone who caught wind of what's going on and checked in on us and my sanity as we navigated a VERY long week. She's doing well so far in this recovery stage and I hope to get back down there soon to get her to chemo, and back home again. 

We need to get the show on the road because she has a busy agenda that includes grandbabies to play with, who are very eager to see their AnnaAnna (or NanaAnna, to the older grandbabies). My kids are very jealous when they hear I'm with Anna, and constantly ask when they get to come with me. Every.Time. When I FaceTimed with them while I was gone last week, they'd say "MOMMY!! HEY! .... WHERE'S ANNA?!" Well, dang. 😭 But all kidding aside, although that really is exactly what happens and I'm not exaggerating at all, we will be making arrangements very soon to make that reunion happen! Every time I go to her house without the kids, it's so sad to just see their toys put away, and their beds empty. I feel like I'm betraying them by being with the great ANNA without them. Oh well - she was MY Anna first! 😂 #stilllearningtoshare 

**Also, if you plan to leave a comment on THIS blog, please make sure you sign your name with the comments because we can't tell who it's from if you don't! I'd love to relay your well wishes to her and it definitely lifts her spirits! 💞 

2nd Treatment -- 1st Cycle

Medically speaking, this trip was uneventful (which is a good thing). She had her normal check-in with her oncologist, and then chemo/immunotherapy, and we also tried to get her scheduled for an MRI while we were in ATL, but they couldn’t squeeze her in. The MRI is for an issue that she’s having with her hip, since her last treatment. She’s had bursitis in the couple of months preceding her being diagnosed, so when she went to be checked at her PCP, they chalked it up to bursitis again. The problem with that is that none of the treatment seems to be giving her much relief at all(cortisone shot plus meloxicam), and she’s having a lot of trouble walking or getting around at all. She uses a walker almost all of the time at home now, and has been managing with just a cane and wheelchair on this trip. It has been eventful in that respect just because this is the first time mom hasn’t been totally mobile on her own. 

Navigating the airport and riding around in the shuttles were more difficult than our previous trips, just because there’s a lot of her getting up and down, and different paths we have to take due to accessibility — we’ve felt a little out of sorts just because it’s not our normal routine, and we realize now that we need to allow more time to get places. 

Other than that, mom has been feeling pretty good and in good spirits. Everyone has been so nice about checking in on her and helping when possible, especially since I’m 2 hours away — y’all don’t know how much it helps and relieves stress for her and I both! The first few days after the last treatment brought on a lot of body aches and overall unpleasantness, but she seemed to get over that fairly quickly (roughly 4-5 days). The biggest ordeal was and is her mobility after that. Her oncologist prescribed some Tramadol, in hopes that it gives her some relief until we can figure out what’s going on.

Despite all of that, we managed to make the best of it and we buzzed around the treatment center laughing, as I would make car noises while pushing her in the wheelchair (to her amusement). Mom would also critique my wheelchair driving abilities (still a mom through and through), and she’d constantly comment about how fast we were going, and that she needed goggles and a scarf to fly behind her (all I could picture was snoopy). 😂 We laughed uncontrollably over that for a solid 5 minutes — I could not get the image out of my head! There were a couple times I’d forget that she wasn’t just sitting in a chair beside me, and when we I would get up to make our next move, I’d walk off… and then remember that I have to push her, and quickly would run back and fetch her. #oops 🙎

There are also a couple times when she’d tell me to stop at the trashcan so she could throw something away, and I’d forget, and run right past it, and she’d say “YEEEEEAAAAAAWN.” 🚗💨 This never got old (unfortunately) and I’m sure that the people who don’t understand our humor (basically everyone) think we’re crazy and probably quietly say, “Bless their hearts..” under their breath. The demeanor in the cancer treatment center is pretty quiet and solemn as you can imagine, so we are a bit… um, different. Oh well — sorry, not sorry. Here’s hoping her hip pain eases up and she has minimal side effects this time around. 🍻

Chemo & Immunotherapy -- 1st Treatment, 1st Cycle

We had a busy week in Atlanta. Mom had some breathing tests completed that showed a wide variety of things with regard to her lung capacity and function. I wish she would've let me get a video of these tests because they were truly something to behold! It was quite a workout for mom (I swear, I think she had to put her eyeballs back in a few times) and she was sore afterwards. The tests make you use your lungs in ways that you wouldn't normally. She did great and the test results produced nothing surprising, according to the pulmonologist. We will take that as good news!

She also got an echocardiogram that was standard for starting chemo. They said it provides a sort of baseline to reference, if problems arise later as she goes through treatment. The test results for her heart were good!

Her labs were great, with exception to her potassium, which they just gave her a few tablets to get those levels up a bit. Also, her labs returned an elevated level with regard to tumor markers, but that wasn't surprising since we know she has cancer already. But those levels will tell us as we go, if the treatment is helping or not. Obviously, we are hoping those levels go down in the future. Beyond that, we won't know much about how the treatments are going until we see the CT scan results in 2 months, after 2 cycles. We do hope that her breathing gets easier, as the chemo and immunotherapy help to shrink whatever is present in her lungs.

We knew what to expect with the chemo process, so no big surprises there. They gave her all her pre-meds, and she was already pretty tired from the anesthesia from her port surgery earlier. So it came as no surprise that she was ready for a nap when the benadryl hit her system. Both the immunotherapy and chemotherapy took only 2-3 hours with everything. And then we were done!

We came back to the hotel and it took me almost 2 hours to get take out from a local restaurant while she rested in the room. That was a fiasco and a long story that basically equates to the CTCA needing to get their transportation department in order. It is a BIG frustration recently when we go. Things are already stressful enough, so it is really disappointing when even getting food is complicated.

Aside from that, it was a quiet night, but mom didn't sleep well. She was really sore from her port surgery and I think she had a hard time getting comfortable. Not to mention, the chemo pumping through her veins probably didn't help.

Today, she woke up and felt pretty good aside from being tired, and then as the day went on, she started feeling worse. I also noticed that she's getting more winded as she walks. One of the side effects of the immunotherapy is shortness of breath, so to pair that with her already having shortness of breath, isn't totally surprising. She went to bed fairly early and said she feels generally yucky. I'm hoping tomorrow she feels better, because tomorrow is her birthday! 💝

We go back in 2 weeks, instead of weekly like we first thought. Her doctor said he can double the chemo dose every 2 weeks with her immunotherapy, instead of spacing it out and having her come every week. No reason to believe that doing so will be less effective, so we are going with it!

 Mom -- fresh out of surgery. She was happy about her pink wheelchair! 💟

Mom's Health Update

It's been a little over a month since my brother and I confided in each other that we both had a really awful feeling something was going on with Mom. I was on a boat off the coast of Italy and suddenly had a sinking feeling in my stomach that things were wrong. So in the middle of the Mediterranean, I frantically began texting mom, Jeremy and her cousin Debbie to see if she had returned from a doctor's appointment yet, and if anything new had come up. Long story, short - a procedure to remove fluid from her lungs back in April (the day before we left for Spain/Italy) left us all (doctors included) perplexed on what caused the fluid to be there in the first place. Original thoughts of pneumonia or some sort of respiratory infection were ruled out, so we feared the worst, and apparently those fears were justified.

Yesterday, mom was officially diagnosed again with triple negative breast cancer (this time, metastatic) that has spread to her lungs, lymph nodes, and bones. It has been a month or more getting to this diagnosis, and we've had a lot of time to process each new revelation as we got closer to the official diagnosis that we received yesterday from her oncologist in ATL. As you can imagine, a lot of tears have been cried but we are at a point now where we are ready to tackle this cancer again (for those that don't know, she was originally diagnosed and treated in 2017 for a lump in her breast, treatment was completed April 2018). Her oncologist was surprised her cancer had returned so quickly, as her type of cancer typically returns (if it does) around the 2-3 year mark. She last had a mammogram in September, and a physical exam in March, which of course came back clear, and still is as far as we can tell. It's really a shame that scans, other than mammograms, aren't approved by insurance for cancer patients. I can't help but wonder if this could have been caught sooner. But honestly, her insurance recently denied coverage for that mammogram, saying it was unnecessary. Talk about infuriating.. 

Anyway, if you know anything about metastatic breast cancer, you probably know that it is advanced and not curable, only treatable to extend quality of life. You are also likely wondering about life expectancy and survival rates. Honestly, those statistics are not good (generally speaking). However, everyone is different and we just don't know anything specific regarding that. In my eyes, there is no sense in dwelling on an estimated time frame that we may or may not have. For now, mom is feeling good, but just has a hard time moving around, since she has shortness of breath very easily. We found out this morning from the pulmonologist here in ATL that only treatment will help to ease that breathing problem. BUT we did find out that there seems to be only a minimal amount of fluid in her lungs since the fluid extraction (1.5 liters!) on April 23rd. This is good news for now, since that means another extraction is not needed at this time, and the fluid buildup is very slow going.

Treatment for stage 4 triple negative breast cancer is a little complicated at the moment. We had hoped that our trip down to ATL this week would have resulted in immediate treatment. However, her oncologist is working hard to find out if she has a certain biomarker, called PD-L1, that would make her eligible to receive a new treatment for triple negative breast cancer, called Immunotherapy (it was just approved by the FDA in MARCH!) It would actually be combined with chemotherapy... 3 weeks on, 1 week off and then repeat another cycle. They will then take a CT to see how everything has responded after the 2nd cycle, and repeat as necessary. If the cancer responds well enough, mom could take a break from treatment and would be scanned again in 3 months to see where things stand, unless symptoms ramp up. If the cancer looks to have progressed, then the cycles start again to try to control and maintain, and hopefully shrink what is there. This will likely be an indefinite process.

On the flip side, if the testing comes back negative for PD-L1 and she is not able to get the Immunotherapy, she will just have chemo. I'm not sure if she would follow the same or a similar schedule with just the chemo alone, or if it would be different. We are just hoping she gets the Immunotherapy and we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, if she can't. Unfortunately, that comes with more waiting and we have learned a lot about patience these last 3 weeks. When I typed that it's been 3 weeks, I said to myself, "Has it really only been 3 weeks?!" It feels like it was an eternity ago since I went with her to the doctor that Tuesday, right after we returned from Italy. Her Wilmington Pulmonologist was about 90% sure she had cancer again, at least in her lungs and lymph node between her lungs. When I asked begged the doctor to tell me something else it could possibly be, he had nothing. Devastation does not properly convey that feeling, but we still had to get through the biopsy to know for certain because we knew 90% did not mean 100%.. 

Unfortunately, cancer was preliminarily confirmed that Friday right after an endobronchial ultrasound and biopsy, but we still weren't sure if it was the breast cancer that had spread or if it was new lung cancer that had also spread. That was what was confirmed yesterday - in her lungs and lymph node and a PET scan prior to the biopsy also highlighted another lymph node, and a couple bones. Those areas were not biopsied.

So, here we are. Scared about the uncertainty and it's implications, but more than ready to get this process rolling so we can continue going to Vegas and wherever else she wants to go, as treatments allow. If you know my mom, not much slows her down when it comes to her travels. During her initial treatment cycle and after one of her chemo appointments, she went to Vegas to visit family (and to go to the casinos, let's be real) and she was a trooper! She has plenty of scarves to keep her looking fly (she loves that term, for some reason💁), and she feels confident in that she halfway knows what to expect with regard to chemo. She is tentatively set up to go back to ATL around June 11/12th to either start treatment or map out next steps, and closely monitor her COPD (so that there isn't confusion between cancer symptoms and COPD symptoms). 

Mom is in pretty good spirits, considering what's going on. She's still the same Anne Marie though, so don't get all mushy and say nice things because that makes us cry. Making us laugh to the point of crying is preferred and also appreciated. 😊

Why This Race Means So Damn Much

I would bet that a lot of you are tired of seeing all my running posts the last few months.  Whether it's just me complaining about the frigid temps, the rain, the early Saturday run times, or just because I'm running and not laying on a beach, I'm sure I've had my share of eye-rolls from scrollers.  And I have to admit that before January, I've never really understood running as a sport (although, I'll say that I've been in awe of people who get out and run like it's nothing pretty much all of the time).  I just assumed that running was something that you had to have loved all of your life in order to enjoy, or that it was just an inherited trait.  I still struggle with motivating myself to get up and do it, but once I'm doing it, 9 times out of 10 (unless I'm on a treadmill), once I get going, I'm good for a while.  And I just coast.  And I think about allllll the things, or absent-mindedly listen to my music, sometimes pretending they're all singing just for me to keep going (I can't let them down, you know).

But I realize now, the day before my race, that it's more than that.  When I signed up to train (which up until that point, I've always said I would never run more than a 10k), it was more of a social thing.  Because being a SAHM, I don't get a ton of interaction with people older than 4 on a daily basis.  Now that the kids are 2 and 4, I am slowly getting into more of a habit of having "me time," but it is inconsistent at best.  Until January.  Then I committed to running at least 2 times a week, mostly with company of other like-minded people who have a goal in mind.  Most of those people, when I tell them I have 2 year old and 4 year old, they start telling me how they remember those years, how challenging they were, and how they can imagine that any kind of small break from doing that 24/7 is likely welcome.

But y'all.  In almost 5 years, this is the first time I've actually set out with a goal that is 100% for myself AND been able to follow through.  Because previously, when I set out to run or train even for shorter distances, I had alllllll the excuses - big and small. I was pregnant, or still breastfeeding, or pregnant again, or going through 2 consecutive miscarriages, or pregnant again, or still breastfeeding again, or simply getting the hang of having 2 kids in general just tired, or struggling with my identity in different ways with my evolving life, or simply because ---> kids.  My mom was also diagnosed with breast cancer last summer and I spent a lot of time going back and forth for her chemo treatments, and my dad and stepmother separated after 25 years of marriage, and those 2 things happening within 2-3 months of each other brought in a whole other realm of feelings that I had never dealt with, especially together.  And those were just my own obstacles.  Craig is also working, traveling, and training for triathlons, so he is in and out a lot too, meaning childcare can be tricky.  Finding the right some balance has been difficult, but with this training, I feel like I've finally been able to stabilize long enough to start and finish something.  Each mile tomorrow will symbolize overcoming several obstacles that have knocked me off my feet at some point over the past 5 years.

So I get it when people are jokingly like "Who wants to run, or pay to run, etc, etc?"  It hasn't always been a dream of mine, but I can't lie when I say that it is going to feel good when I cross that finish line tomorrow.  Who knows if I will hit my target pace when it's all said and done, or complete the entire thing without walking, but I WILL finish.  I know that if Craig can finish a half ironman with a broken collar bone and fractured ribs after crashing his bike during his first ironman race, I can, at the very least, cross the finish line of my first half marathon (hopefully with a lot less injury).  AND I will know that I legitimately put in the work to get there.  So I apologize for all of the sometimes annoying running posts/pictures over the past few months -- some of it was for accountability reasons, but mostly it was for humor.  Because seriously, if you had told me a couple years ago that I would be training for a race in temperatures cold enough to freeze my water bottle while running, I would have thought that I must be trapped in the tundra somewhere.

Slightly off-topic, but have you ever found yourself in a situation where you wonder if you had the ability years ago to flash forward to get a sneak peak of random moments in your life, what you would think of the circumstances?  Like in 2006 if you had shown me a glimpse of me running down Wade Avenue, I would've thought "Okay, someone is definitely chasing me.. I hope I make it..", or "Oh ok... I'm probably taking a left on Western to get to Bojangles."  It's just interesting how we evolve.  And thank God I eat a lot less Bojangles now, because that was a constant battle (hayyyy seasoned fries and honey mustard sauce 🙌).

On this day though, I gave in. #reward (And ironically, it was the Bojangles on Western 😂)

So even though back then, I never would've believed I would've done all of this for a half marathon, I definitely believe me now.  I kind of believe in me now too, so there's also that. 💪 #girlpower #roarandstuff 

Top 5 Revelations of 2017

I feel like it's safe to say that 2017 presented a number of challenges in my personal life.  They were wide-ranging and I found them to be difficult, as any challenge typically is.  But I figured out a lot about myself in that time.  For the most part, I know who I am.  I know where I stand and I feel good about where I stand.  As a Christian, if I were to have a face-to-face with God right this minute, I could proudly tell Him the following things:

1) I honored thy mother and father.  In moments of crisis, I feel like I stepped up for my family.  I did some intense thinking, praying, soul searching and attempted to do what was best for my family regarding many things, and also had to consider what was best for me in the process.  It wasn't always easy, and at times I felt like I was failing in general, or failing certain people specifically.  But in the end, I feel like I would do it all over again, the same way.  I tried to be present for those who needed me and I tried to be fair to everyone, including myself.  It didn't always appear that way to everyone involved, but I absolutely did the best I could.  I felt guilty at times because I knew that my choices (no matter what I did) were going to hurt someone.  But do I believe that God would condemn me for my choices?  Nope, and that is how I am content with where I've gone with my decisions.

2) My only true calling in this life so far is to be a mother and wife, though I am very imperfect in this role (to put it lightly).  Everything else is secondary.  I do not feel I was put on this earth to be an admin worker, a purchasing agent, sales person, software consultant, etc.  In no other role or job that I've had in my life have ever I tried as hard as I do with being a mother and wife, or been paid less.  I fail daily, but I will never be the perfect parent and I am definitely not the perfect wife.  I recognize this only because I found myself failing in other ways because I was being so hard on myself for my shortcomings.  My main job right now is to be a mother to my children, and that's difficult because I've only done this for a short amount of time, when I had very different roles for decades, leading up to this.  I'm still learning, but it's one of the few singular things I'm passionate about in this moment that I actually have direct control over.  I've tried to learn to forgive myself when I recognize I could've handled something better.  I am working to find an identity outside of my kids but these 2 roles are pretty important and I feel like this is where I'm supposed to be.
(Proverbs 22:6 - Train up a child in the way he should go, Even when he is old he will not depart from it.)  

3) I have loved thy neighbor.  There isn't much I haven't said with regard to social and political issues, and I consider this whole realm to be one.  I think I've spoken up on most pressing issues and most of the important people in my life understand and respect where I stand (I hope, regardless of whether they agree with me or not).  I've made sure that there is no question of how I feel regarding issues of race, sexual preference, religion, freedom of choice, refugees, immigration, the 2nd amendment and all that it responsibly entails, etc.  Sometimes, it has been to the detriment of relationships, but I feel like most of these issues are more than "just politics".  We are talking about peoples' lives.  HUMANITY.  I accept all people who lead their lives in a way that brings light, not darkness.  If you life your life in a way that brings others down, you and I won't probably won't mesh.  And that's okay.  My eyes have been opened to so many different perspectives and opinions, some more disappointing than others (because who doesn't wish we all agreed when we feel we are right), but I have learned so much regardless.  I recognize that there are people that who do not look like me, who do love worship like me, who do not love like me, who do not speak like me, or live like me.  But we are all equal and deserving of the same rights here in this country, and all over the world as far as that goes.  

4) There's no bible verse or commandment for this: I am sarcastic to a fault.  Most of my friends understand this love language of mine, but it does get me into trouble.  It is hard to reign it in, and a lot of times it ends up being a defense mechanism, and most often, it is used to highlight irony (i.e. - casting stones, etc).  Unfortunately,  there are times that it is read as arrogance (and I apologize for that - it is certainly not my intention)  For those that know me know that I am only confident that I feel deeply.  I am a very emotional person, but I admit that it doesn't always make me right.  It's something that I work on daily, but if you find yourself in an emotional conversation with me, where things are getting tense, the first thing to recognize is that I am passionate about the way I feel.  Just because you do not agree with me, does not make me wrong.  It also doesn't make me right, but regardless of where you stand on that, you need to know that I'm feeling some kinda way about it.  I recognize that being so emotional isn't always seen as a positive, but if you at all appreciate and value the relationship that we have (no matter how small the relationship seems), recognizing when I feel a certain way about a subject is important because you can be sure that I am not being flippant about it.  At all.  I'm trying to do better about how I present my perspective, so I hope that others also try to simply listen.

5) Even considering these challenges and self-revelations, they do not hold a candle to the real challenges of the world.  Like those humans in the world that are attempting to save their own families' lives by fleeing their country, those humans who are being abused daily by both strangers and people that they love, those humans that don't have the financial stability to eat proper meals (or eat anything at all), those humans that do not have a home or a place to safely lay their heads at night, those humans who have lost a child through no fault of their own, or senselessly lost a child due to violence of any kind, or lost a child through sickness due to not having the appropriate access to healthcare to prevent such tragedy, those humans who have to have conversations with their children daily about the mean people in this world who do not see their value due to the color of their skin, their gender, or their religion.  Through all of my so-called strife, I am so, so lucky that I cannot claim such challenges in my life.  

I struggle with this verse : Psalm 34:19 - The righteous person may have troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all.

Thanks to social media and technology in general, I see so much suffering daily.  I know there are children who are born into suffering, and die due to suffering and I can't even begin to imagine the in-between.  The only point at which they are delivered from their suffering is when they leave this cruel world.  So why?  Why do they have to be born into such an awful world, only to die in such terrible circumstances?  I have no answers, but when I see such trivial arguments about rights to own a semi-automatic weapon when there are children dying of starvation, murder, rape, etc, I can't help but get angry and sad with the differences in worldly views.

I was reminded by a very close friend this week to always remember to find the grace in all situations.  If you are being angered by someone, just remember they could be going through something terrible that you know nothing about.  Find the grace.  BE the grace that people need in their lives.  We all need it.