Over the past several months, I have experienced agonizing emotional pain and deep, unexplainable joy, intense fear and a peace that went far beyond my understanding. I have seen God’s hand at work in the most unlikely of places and felt His Love carry me through the darkest nights. This is my story. I grew up with a lot of stability in my life through elementary and high school, and even during college. But after graduating from college, I ended up moving three times (all within Sacramento, CA) in less than a year and my family also experienced several transitions and unexpected events. Then in April of 2019, I noticed a small mass that hadn’t been there before. I had no idea what it was and to be honest, I wasn’t all that worried about it at the time. After a little research online, I assumed that it might be a harmless cyst or fibroid. But I was still concerned enough to have it checked out, especially since it seemed to be growing. Over the next few months I had a few appointments which included an examination, tests, and a biopsy. At one point I was told that it could be cancer. I received that phone call just as I was leaving my house to go somewhere, and I distinctly remember my best friend (and housemate at the time) praying with me before I got in my car to leave. I was in shock and once I was alone, tears sprang to my eyes. But in October I met with a surgeon to discuss having the mass removed and he told me that it was probably benign. My fears were allayed for the time being and my surgery was scheduled for October 18th. Meanwhile, over the course of several months, I had begun to sense a strong calling to move to Seattle. After two trips to the city, a bike tour along the Oregon Coast, and much prayer and confirmation, I prepared to head north. Fairly soon after making the decision to move, I got a job with a senior caregiving company and I found a place to live with a wonderful church community. My surgery date coincided closely with my moving day, so I packed up all of my belongings before heading into surgery. The day came and right before my operation, the surgeon came into the room and again reiterated his opinion that the tumor was most likely benign and that I had nothing to worry about. The surgery was fairly minor so two days later, my parents and best friend helped to load up my things and we started to drive to Seattle. Upon our arrival, we were greeted warmly by my new housemates and I soon settled into my room. The first week in Seattle was quite exhilarating – I was meeting many new people every day and getting to know a city that was brand-new to me. But then, just ten days after arriving, I received another phone call. This time the results were conclusive. They revealed an extremely rare type of tumor called an extra-ovarian yolk sac tumor. I had cancer. I descended into panic and shock all over again as the surgeon explained that he was transferring me to a doctor at the University of Washington Medical Center (which happened to be only a mile and a half away from my house). A few weeks later, I was scheduled to meet with my new doctor and discuss the next steps going forward. Just at that time, a dear friend from Sacramento was planning to come to Seattle to visit her stepdaughter. Her stepdaughter just so “happened” to live only two miles from me and my friend just so “happened” to be coming the very week that I would be having my first appointment with my new doctor. In fact, my appointment was on one of the two days that my friend would be in town. Still, I was afraid to ask her to join me for a medical appointment since that wasn’t the purpose of her trip. But at the very moment I was mustering up the courage to ask her, she texted me about an unrelated subject. I then mentioned the appointment and she gladly agreed to accompany me. So off we went, and her prayers and the peace she brought with her were such a gift to me. My new doctor suggested I undergo another surgery, this time a bit more invasive to remove any remaining cancer cells. It sounded like a good plan and I wasn’t too daunted by the idea. However, a week or so later, I received a phone call from my doctor telling me that she had discussed my case with her colleagues and they had agreed that chemotherapy would be the best route given the aggressiveness of this type of cancer. That was one of the hardest days of my cancer journey. Up to that point, I hadn’t experienced any cancer symptoms. In fact, I had felt quite healthy. But I knew in that moment that chemo would make me feel – and look – like a cancer patient. I would be part of a “club” that I had never wanted to qualify for. It was a very emotional day, but then something amazing happened. My aunt was visiting her son and his family who live just south of Seattle and they invited me to join them for dinner. As I drove down to their house and cried out to God, I witnessed the most beautiful sunset. And as I spent the evening with them, I found out how much I needed to be with family just after receiving such difficult news. Most wonderfully of all, I got the chance to connect with my cousin’s oldest daughter who is very artistic and spiritually aware. At one point in our conversation, she pulled out her Bible to share a verse that had been meaningful to her. It was Psalm 23:5 where it says, “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” I had been “hard-core” meditating on that verse just a few days before and it was exactly what I needed to hear. I needed to know that in the midst of the worst news, in the midst of my enemy taunting me with fears, that God was in the very act of spreading out a feast before me – a feast of His Love and goodness. The events that evening were just another way I saw Him taking care of me in the midst of everything going on. We prayed together and I left with a full and grateful heart. As my first day of chemo approached, everything began to accelerate. I needed to get a second opinion, ask questions and obtain information about the treatment regimen, and have them place my port through which they would administer the chemo. The whole week was a whirlwind of phone calls and appointments. Finally, everything was set. I was scheduled to start chemo on December 26th, so I decided to enjoy Christmas Day the best I could and try not to think about what was going to happen the next day. A friend from church graciously invited me to join her and her family for their Christmas dinner and I had a wonderful time getting to know them, enjoying great food, and spending time at their place which was situated in a rural area outside of Seattle. The next day, with my backpack full of things to do and snacks to eat in case the hospital food didn’t settle well with me, I headed to my first day of chemo. Just two days before, I had met the cancer support group facilitator from church and he had offered to take me to the hospital and check in on me. He and his wife became (and still are) two of my most faithful supporters and advocates through this entire journey. He is a chaplain and retired oncologist and she, as a breast cancer survivor, has experienced chemo and radiation. On that Thursday morning, he picked me up and then came to check in on me each day I was in the hospital. (The chemo regimen was three days in the hospital during which I received all three chemo drugs, then a return visit to the clinic the following week and the next week after that to receive one of the drugs. This was repeated for a total of three cycles.) I made it through those three days and then went home and immediately to bed. My body handled it pretty well considering everything, but the sleep deprivation and loss of energy was especially difficult. Thankfully I didn’t have too much trouble with nausea after I went home and I was able to eat a regular diet again fairly soon after. The recovery was arduous, however. I don’t really know how to describe the first several days and nights after each round of chemo, but the word “darkness” comes to mind because it felt like I was in a tunnel wondering if I would ever see the light of day. It was a spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical experience and I often felt alone in it. However, I had an amazing community - actually *two* communities (or rather two families). One was in Seattle; the other was in Sacramento. I was just getting to know my new friends in Seattle and had only met my housemates over video call before I moved, but they surrounded me with such love and support. My housemates accompanied me to appointments, drove me to and from the hospital during chemo, prayed for me, and showed their support in many other ways. People from the church (even people who hadn’t met me yet) filled in for various needs and one friend who I had barely gotten to know, not only took me to my port placement appointment, but also went out of her way to bring me lemons and honey when I was sick during the last round of chemo. Meanwhile, my family members and friends in Sacramento prayed for me, checked in on me through phone calls and texts, and sent me multiple care packages and numerous encouraging, beautiful cards. (Every time I went for chemo, I would take a few cards with me to set up on my little hospital table. The color, beauty, and encouraging words were a tremendous help in sustaining me during those difficult days.) Furthermore, a dear friend set up a GoFundMe page and I received many, many donations which kept me afloat financially during those months and helped to pay for my medical bills, rent, and groceries. I was able to work intermittently between chemo rounds and my senior caregiving company went above and beyond what I ever would have expected from a company. They gladly allowed me to take off work whenever I needed to and constantly expressed their support and encouragement as I went through chemo. One day, after I had finished my regimen, I went on a walk and was surprised to see the CEO of the company pull up beside me. He had just stopped by my house to drop off a huge, gorgeous bouquet of flowers from the whole staff. It made my day. One of the harder side effects from chemo was losing my hair. I had usually worn my hair long, at least halfway down my back, but soon it started falling out in clumps. It was painful, even agonizing, to see such harsh consequences to my body from the drugs that were being pumped into it. I got my head shaved (which was actually a relief after seeing my hair fall out) and I started to wear hats and scarves. A friend from church gave me a bag of scarves and I had fun trying a whole new fashion style. Hair loss was yet another sorrow due to cancer, but it was made easier by a bit of beauty. During the third and last round of chemo, I got sick with a respiratory illness and spent the majority of two weeks trying to recover. My energy level was the lowest it had ever been and with a compromised immune system, my body struggled to recuperate. I eventually received a blood transfusion that helped a great deal. My energy gradually returned and I began (somewhat cautiously) to celebrate being finished with chemo. Meanwhile, the coronavirus came to the Seattle area and so after two weeks of returning to church and social events, I again had to quarantine myself, only going out for work and medical appointments. Around that time, I received inconclusive results from a PET scan. It showed a mass that was either post-surgery tissue still healing...or more cancer. My doctor advised keeping a close eye on it, but after another week or two, I was pretty certain that the mass was growing and that another tumor had appeared in the same area. I asked for a biopsy which my doctor readily agreed to and sure enough, the biopsy tested positive for cancer and the “AFP” blood test (which they use to check for this type of cancer) was at 83 – when the normal range is from 0 to 8.5. I was devastated. I had heard that the type of chemo I had initially received was highly effective, with a 90-95% success rate. And now this. My doctor told me that the next step would be to receive more chemo, this time over three to six months. Once our conversation was over, I hung up the phone and cried. But again, God’s love came through for me that day. One of my housemates dropped off some flowers and an encouraging card. Another friend had chocolate delivered to me and prayed with me that evening. Two of my closest friends from Sacramento prayed with me over the phone. My parents prayed and supported me from Nevada. Another housemate gave me a long, much needed hug and held me as she spoke the truth over me, reminding me of God’s goodness through suffering and hardship. I was able to visit my oncologist friend and his wife. They hugged me, sat with me as I cried, prayed with me, and listened as I poured out my heart. These are the things that carried me through that hard, hard day. After beginning to accept the news, I turned my attention towards the next steps of treatment. I received more information about the chemo options from Seattle Children’s Hospital and started to consider whether I should stay in Seattle or move to my parents’ house since I would be receiving more intensive treatment. Before I moved, I needed to have another surgery to remove the new tumors, so I repeated what I had done when I had moved to Seattle: packed up all my belongings, had the surgery, and then moved just a few days later. This surgery was a bit more invasive and while recovering in the hospital, I also had my port removed and a Hickman catheter placed in anticipation of more chemo and the possibility of stem cell transplants. My housemates and church community surprised me with an amazing send-off and then my parents and best friend (yes, that same friend who helped me move up to Seattle) packed up my things and we headed south. I had a few weeks to get settled in, meet my new doctor, and set everything up to start treatment again. This time I would receive three chemo drugs over five consecutive days in the hospital. As I started the new regimen, my mind was troubled. I had endured the regimen in Seattle with an expectation that it was likely to succeed in beating the cancer, but clearly it had not and now I felt like this new regimen was just a shot in the dark, guesswork at best. However, I went through with it. The first few days actually went quite smoothly, but by the fourth day I was heavily sleep-deprived and struggling with nausea. By the time I went home, my body was almost completely depleted of strength and energy. I spent the next several days gradually recovering, but then had a slight setback when my immune booster shot gave me fever and chills. Later in the week, I experienced three nights of major spiritual growth. On the first night, I lay awake worrying for several hours. Among other matters, I was perplexed about making a decision regarding my treatment plan. A stem cell transplant doctor in Sacramento had advised me to undergo high-dose chemo and two stem cell transplants which would require weeks of staying in or near the hospital, plus months of recovery and monitoring for any infections or illnesses. During the second night, I felt God’s presence in my room and received His peace. I was reassured that His love would carry me through whatever was ahead, and I began to regain hope. Finally during the third night, I experienced intense spiritual warfare. I felt a dark, sinister presence in my room and a few moments later, I felt like I was being choked. But as I began to speak the name of Jesus, the evil spirit left me and I realized in that moment that I truly do have authority over darkness by the power of Jesus’ name. After those nights, it gradually became clear that God was teaching me to live as an overcomer in every area of my life – spiritually as well as mentally, emotionally, and physically. Around that time, I began to notice some swelling around my surgery site, so I set up an appointment on the following Monday to meet with a gynecologist to find out what was going on. That day turned out to be extraordinary. I saw God’s hand at work in every part of it and I was full of joy and hope in the midst of hectic phone calls, my second head shaving, and an appointment with a doctor who had a rather intense personality. My parents and I enjoyed our time together and were even laughing at various silly things throughout the day. The next morning I woke up at about 4 or 4:30 in the morning and felt inspired to pray for physical healing. I prayed as an overcomer, specifically that my immune system and white blood cells would be strong enough to overcome the cancer and all the side effects of chemo. After an hour or so of praying, I went back to bed for a few hours. As soon as I woke up and started to get out of bed, I felt that something had changed. I found myself jumping out of bed and then skipping into the kitchen where I found my mom. I burst out to her, “I have so much energy right now!” And for the next three and a half hours we ended up talking and praying about healing as well as many other things that God was doing. Just the week before, I had been sleeping two to five hours each day (as well as during the night), trying to recover from chemo, but that day I took a thirty-minute nap and felt fine the whole day. Ever since then, I have experienced an abundance of energy and health, and I have been hiking, biking, backpacking, sailing, playing music again, and doing many other things that I haven’t been able to do throughout the past several months. My PET and CT scans as well as my blood tests did not show any cancer, and so after much prayer and consideration, I decided to stop chemo until God led me in a different direction. I figured that if cancer showed up in my body again, then I would make a decision about treatment at that point. I didn’t want to live in the fear of “what-ifs”: What if the cancer returned eventually? What if it spread to another part of my body? What if there were still a few more cancer cells that just weren’t showing up in the test results? I could allow these fears to control me or I could choose to live in the present and follow God wherever I sensed He was leading me. And He seemed to be leading me into a season of healing and restoration. Meanwhile, my doctors were not so happy about my decision. Understandably they were concerned that there might be a recurrence given that I had already had a recurrence just a couple of months before. But I had received so much peace and confirmation and I realized that I was the one that needed to make the decision and stand by it. And so I had two lengthy conversations – one with my primary oncologist and one with the gynecologist that I had connected with regarding the swelling at my surgery site (which, by the way, disappeared that morning while I had been praying). My primary oncologist voiced his concerns but supported me in making my own decision; however, the gynecologist vehemently insisted that I continue treatment and I had to stand my ground. By the grace of God, I was able to remain firm in my decision and not only that, but I also felt peace in the midst of that appointment as I realized that nothing had changed: this was still a decision between me and God regarding my health and He would continue to take care of me no matter what. My mom and I got out of that appointment and as we recovered (it was quite an intense appointment), I started thinking out loud, “Okay, let’s talk about the worst-case scenario, let’s go there. What if I stop treatment and the cancer comes back? And what if it then spreads all over my body and I die from it?” And in that moment, I knew for certain that God had done a great work in me because instead of feeling afraid, I felt hope. I knew that my hope was and always would be in Jesus Christ. Neither life nor death could take that from me. Throughout the next few weeks, I shared the good news of my healing with friends and family members, and got to witness my story ignite excitement and joy in other people. It was like lighting sparklers on the Fourth of July – passing the light from one person to another. As I look back, I am amazed by this wondrous journey God has brought me through. I have walked through a valley of trouble and seen God turn it into a doorway of hope (Hosea 2:15), and I have also come out into a broad, open place (Psalm 18:19) and danced with Him upon the hills of restoration and healing. He is so, so good to me. And the story continues… Since then, I have had to return to the hospital because of an infection in my Hickman catheter. It can be a serious problem especially because it is a central line and connected to a major vein that goes directly to my heart. I ended up spending three days in the hospital, and again I saw God do amazing things. He turned my mindset around from one of complaining to one of praise and thanksgiving. I had so much joy by the end of those three days! And my blood test results for the infection came back negative on the third day, allowing me to return home with only a week’s worth of oral antibiotics. The doctors also ended up removing my catheter, so for the first time in several months, I do not have any foreign objects in my body! And that “AFP” blood test? As of today, August 4th, 2020, it has gone down to 3. Cancer may or may not be a part of my life in the future. But one thing I know for certain: God’s Love will always be for me and with me – throughout my life here on earth and for the rest of Eternity. “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” -Lamentations 3:22-23 |
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About me
I have great friends, a great family, and a great God. The joys of my life include children, music, beauty of nature, relationships. I love to read, spend time with the elderly, and express myself through creative arts, including writing. I hope you enjoy my blog! :) "Christ wrecks us, holds us, and rebuilds us; it is the greatest blessing we can ever hope for."
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