Cancer Update

Events this week have shown an about-face, proving challenges are ever changing. Example: from being given information that cancer cells were not running amok, to being informed that those errant cells are indeed attaching and growing inside my bones. Two weeks ago, a CT scan showed no problem, but a previous MRI  indicated some suspicious areas of clustering cells congregating under my left arm and under the implant where I once had a breast. 

Then a new day dawned and a PET scan performed Tuesday showed lesions on the lower spine, the upper pelvis and also deep under the left rib, thinning the bone and causing havoc with nighttime sleep and daytime movement.  Liken the discomfort unto a bruised rib. Kind of.

Yesterday, prayers from family and friends and a helpful technician giving me extra doses of fentanyl helped me breeze through two bone core biopsies in my upper pelvis.  Now we wait for the definitive news from pathology to tell that sorry old story that breast cancer has spread to the bones.

Several days ago I read this poem by Jo McDougalk, published by The Writer's Almanac on July 12.  It reverberated in my chest wall.

 CHOICE

You’ve come to the oncologist’s office
to talk about your options.
You view the scans,

forgetting to breathe.
“It’s metastasized.” He frowns,
pointing to where and where.

He ticks off the preferred treatment,
the side effects,
low rates of success.

“It’s your choice,” he says,
closing your folder,
“but we need to start tomorrow.”

You think of yesterday
when you lived in a different universe,
of a waitress,
hand on her hip, asking,

“Hon, you want mustard or mayo
on that sandwich?”

Chew on that one.  Some choices are mundane, a few are critical. Time will tell, and decisions will be made with prayer and the Holy Spirit backing us up.

While meditating this morning, Psalms 91 came to mind.  (Joyce Meyer has a great sermon about Psalms 91 on YouTube here). These are the first two verses in the scripture, but read the entire psalm for comfort.

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. (Psalms 91:1-2)

photo by Carol Lewis

I am trusting and desiring to be a good example of dealing with cancer in a realistic and God centered manner so that I can give Julie that as a legacy.  My mother did the same for me in 2000 when she dealt with the cancer issue, and was never fearful of one day following the next.  Nor am I, and I trust that Julie will also face her own mortality with faith and dignity.

Next posting with be all about knitting, I promise.

Llamas at the Manor

Llamas from Whitewater, 17 of them, are owned by Kathy and Glen Stanko.  Kathy and Glen were kind to bring two of them to visit the manor yesterday.  They were certainly a hit with residents.  Julie loved seeing them, and even made me drive her chair out to the parking lot to wave them off back to their home forty-five minutes away by trailer.

 

They ate iris and parsley planted in the herb garden, but that was ok.  There are plenty more iris I planted there last fall, while the parsley is taking more than its fair share of garden space.

 

White llama above: Phoebe Snow.  Her fur is a natural white and is spun at Fire Mountain Fiber near Hotchkiss, Colorado at Bad Rabbit Farm.  Her fiber is lace weight.  Kathy wants me to drive out to the ranch and see all her fiber for sale; I might take her up on it as I would really like to dye up some more fibers in acid dye baths.  Like last year!

 

Julie is trying to touch Phoebe's neck as Phoebe patiently waits for it.

 

Here is the location of the Stanko llama ranch on Kannah Creek Road near Whitewater.  I might just take a drive out there soon to purchase some fiber.

 

 

 

Sunday Tidings

Results of medical tests showed that cancer is not in the cards for me in the near future. Thank you all for your concern.  Gene was relieved, of course, but his wry comment during our discussion after results came in was "God is not letting you get out of here that easy."  Meaning we still have Julie to guard, and his mother to bury, although she is closing on to 90 and has been dying for more than a decade, in her estimation.

So that is all I can report on the tests, other than that odd lump is undefined, and that rib pain continues.  Costochondritis?  Who knows...

The sun shines through!