Lovely luncheon

Today I got together with 3 ladies that were in the Healing Circle group from a few months ago. It was at the home of Julie Clark, of Baby Einstein fame. We talked and shared our experiences and where we are now in our treatments and recovery. Before we had lunch, we retired to the theatre room and watched the movie "Crazy, Sexy Cancer," a video journal of a young woman's experience filmed from the first day she was diagnosed through her remission 3 or 4 years later. Watching it made me wish I had my family take more pictures and video of me this past year so I'd have a visual of what I felt and looked like, thought and experienced, but at the time I probably wouldn't let them, and they respected my wishes. That's why I'm thankful for this blog, so I can at least go back and re-read it - someday. I haven't yet. Not sure when I will.

To Doug

There is another big Thank You due, and that is to my husband, Doug. He has been amazing, absolutely amazing. This has definitely been the most difficult time in our 26 year marriage, but I saw the very best in him THIS year. He's taken care of me, pampered me, scolded me when I tried to do too much, he's seen me at my very worst and saw me back to good days over and over again. He's been with me at every single doctor appointment, treatment and follow-up visit, and there were a lot. He's watched as I lost my hair, my weight, and my control; as I took lotions, potions, powders and pills; as I lay in bed not barely able to turn over. He's encouraged me to sleep and to get up and take a walk, holding my arm the whole way. He's brought me water, medications, crackers and meals. He's been the communicator to all of you, answering calls, emails and the door. He's taken the kids to appointments, school, events, and their plays, helped with homework, computer problems and everyday issues. Did the laundry, the dishes and the vacuuming. He's made me feel nothing less than beautiful, even through all that he's seen, had to do, and witnessed. Now I can see why some marriages don't survive cancer, but ours did and has become stronger. Thank you for getting me through this with patience, understanding and unconditional love. I love you.

At the end of one road, and beginning another

We saw my surgeon, Craig Brown, this morning – any and all concerns about my new system and controlling it came out on the table. I could not imagine the rest of my life having to deal with what I've dealt with these last 2 weeks. The good news is "it will get better, and more manageable." With more fiber, lots more water, and some products to help keep things moving, I should return to normalcy very soon, within 6 months he said. Then he removed my 6 staples, said the incision is healing great, and suggested I get another colonoscopy by November, and another followup with him in 6 months. I thanked him with all my heart and a tear in my eye for saving my life. What a great surgeon, and an incredible man.

It is at this point, at the end of my cancer journey and the beginning of the rest of my life – that I would like to thank each of you who were there for us with support, well wishes, cards, messages, dinners, gifts and most of all your prayers. All of them made us feel good, but it was the last one that performed the Miracle. We ARE truly, truly blessed.

Post Surgery Update

I'm happy that 13lbs of that fluid weight has come off, making my stomach more comfortable. The incision area is just fine, I can sneeze and sit up without concern. The staples come out next week. My system has definitely woke up but the unpredictability of it is keeping me close to home. I've noticed I can now sleep on my side again. Up until a day or two ago that was too painful.

We have been so fortunate to have friends and neighbors bring us dinners again. Although I'm up and around, I shouldn't be bending and lifting too much, so this has been a God-send for us. Thank you to them for the delicious meals and their thoughtfulness.

Doug's going to a funeral today of a good friend of ours who lost his battle with cancer. In months past, Brian and I would talk on the phone, compare treatments and co-misserate. Rest now, my friend.