The gift of my Haitian family
Recently the staff of Haiti Awake shared the following:
Sè Becky,
Your family from your second home, Haiti, want you to know how much we love you and pray for you. You are a gift to us from God.
Knowing you is a privilege. For the past eleven years, we have learned so much from you. Your love for Haiti, especially for Haiti Awake, is obvious.
Thank you for walking with us in every trial that we have known in Haiti, even in the midst of your own trials. Now we can walk with you.
You are in our hearts and prayers.
We love you very much.
Get healed soon!
Your family at Haiti Awake
I’ve Still Got Alot of Fight Left in Me
Initial diagnosis - May 2019
Recurrence diagnosed - February 2023
Debulking surgery - May 2, 2023
Today’s 6 mile run-walk on Kiawah Island - May 28, 2023
There is much to conquer in the days ahead, and I'm not done yet.
Like Rachel Platten sings, "‘Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me."
The gift of not waiting for another day
One of the gifts of the last few months has been the awareness that time is fleeting and it’s my responsibility to make the most of what I am given.
For example, we live minutes from Wrightsville Beach. People spend thousands of dollars to vacation here, but I rarely take advantage of this treasure which is easily accessible to me.
I realized recently that I often think about taking my morning walk down by the water, but I always find a reason to just walk in my neighborhood, thinking, “I’ll get down there another day.”
But “tomorrow” becomes the next day and then the next, and it becomes weeks - months! years! - and I’m still walking in my neighborhood every morning.
Last week I decided to change that. And I am so glad I did because had I not, I would have missed moments like these.
Last night I watched an episode of This is Us. It’s the scene from Season 4, shortly after Rebecca finds out she’s losing her memory, when Randall and Kevin find her at the MET, staring at a painting. I love this scene so much.
“My life has been full of next times, things I always assumed I would get to eventually, but now I realize that I am running out time to do them . . . I want to make up for all of my next times.”
I’m realizing I want to choose “right now,” not “next time” or “tomorrow” or some undefined day in the future. I want to know what it means to live and not just be alive. I want to say “yes” more than I say, “No.”
I, too, want to make up for all of my “next times.”
And that starts with simple decisions like getting in the Jeep and driving down to Wrightsville Beach each morning.
Not what we were expecting
I had two CT scans and a PET scan prior to last week’s surgery, so we were fairly confident about the extent of the cancer’s spread and what was needed in order to remove that. As you know from previous posts, surgery went really well, and my recovery has been far easier than expected.
This week I received the pathology report. Overall, sections A - D of the report were positive - either noting absence of malignancy in the sample taken or noting successful excision.
However, the report did note two additional GCT tumors that were not defined by scans, and, unfortunately, it also included the following information regarding the left anterior abdominal wall resection:
This information is concerning and will likely result in difficult decisions in the near future.
Dr. Rossi has asked that my case be presented at a Monday morning conference. Once the team talks about my surgery and pathology, they will contact me regarding recommendations for a plan to go forward.
This morning my thoughts are set on Psalm 90:12, and I ask that you pray that we may have wisdom in deciding how to approach this new hurdle.
“So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom.”
Thank you for showing up
It would be impossible to enumerate all of the acts of kindness and love you have expressed in recent days. I am incredibly grateful and overwhelmed.
I have seen many of you living out the truth of I Corinthians 12:28.
“And in the church God has appointed first of all apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then workers of miracles, and those with gifts of healing, helping, administration, and various tongues.”
Thank you for using your various gifts to invest in my life. I feel so loved.
Above all that we could have asked or imagined
It wasn’t the worst case scenario. It wasn’t the best case scenario, either. It wasn’t even somewhere in the middle. It was even better than we asked or imagined.
It wasn’t the worst case scenario. It wasn’t the best case scenario, either. It wasn’t even somewhere in the middle. It was even better than we asked or imagined.
We arrived at the hospital a little before 5 a.m., and I was absolutely miserable. I had become dehydrated by the bowel prep, and this was causing extreme nausea and fatigue. So when I was called back to the pre-op prep area, I was relieved.
My new friend I met on the phone yesterday stopped by, as well as Dr. Rossi and other members of the surgical team. Every caregiver was so kind and compassionate.
The patient care here at Duke is phenomenal. One guy on the anesthesiology team was even showing me photos of his dog and chatting with me while another physician was doing my epidural in the OR.
I entered the OR at 7:27 a.m., and the surgery started at 8:50. The procedure was complete, and I was ready for visitors by 10:12 a.m. This was much shorter than the time originally estimated!
The shortened time under anesthesia resulted in a fairly quick stay in the recovery unit, and I felt aware of my surroundings and confident in my ability to communicate almost immediately. My first questions:
Do I have a bag?
Did she have to breach the abdominal wall to remove the tumors in the subcutaneous tissue?
The answers to both questions was “no!”
Further, Dr. Rossi decided not to do a hysterectomy, and there was no need to resection the bowel (that tumor was incredibly easy to remove!) so I came away from the procedure with a less invasive procedure than I had anticipated.
It looks like I’ll be here at Duke through Friday. I’ve yet to get out of bed. (That’s a goal for tomorrow!) I still have an epidural administering pain meds. (I’m not complaining!) And I have a great volunteer nurse. (Ethan is the best human!)
Tonight Ephesians 3:20-21 is on my mind:
“Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Glory to him in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen.”
The last 24 hours
To those of you who have called, texted, and showed compassion in so many different ways, thank you.
I’ve spent today walking and following the dreaded clear liquid diet - which hasn’t been nearly as bad as I anticipated.
Surgery is scheduled for tomorrow at 7:10 a.m.
Looking forward to sharing positive news as I feel able!
What's helpful … and what's not
A few friends have asked me “what’s helpful and what’s not?” right now. I want to start out by saying everyone is different and responds differently to things, but after speaking with a number of other ladies, here are a few things that are helpful - and a few that are not - to us.
1. Surprises without expectations. Gifts are not usually something that speak to my heart, but recently unexpected surprises in the mail and on the front porch have been encouraging. Opening the door and finding something on the doorstep - something that was left without the doorbell ever ringing - those surprises truly mean something to me because there have been a few days I don’t know if I would have opened the door had the bell rang.
From a friend on her own journey with cancer:
“Offer to take your friend to chemo, or go with her to a doctor's appointment.
Have a girls’ day out where you go to the beach /lake together or go out to eat. Send a care package.
One of my best friends sent me a blanket, ginger chews, and a salt lamp. It was so caring and thoughtful.”
2. Words of encouragement. April sent this message to me recently, and it’s one I’ve saved and will go back to repeatedly.
Sometimes when our physical strength wains, all we have is our mental strength. Know that, whatever comes your way, you have the mental strength and the tenacity to keep going.
The three simple yet profound words my family keep saying to me as I was battling cancer was, “You got this!”
Becky, I know you got this! Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Do the next thing that you have to do and think of only that, until it’s time to do what comes after that.
I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers. 🙏
3. Companionship. Lunch dates and walks around the park are wonderful distractions as I wait for my surgery date.
4. Suggestions of what you want to do to help versus “let me know if I can help sometime” are helpful. For example, Joyce said:
I would love for someone to say, “Is it okay if I bring you dinner on Friday night?” instead of saying, “Let me know if I can bring you dinner one day.” I might never take you up on a general offer, but when you ask me about a specific date, that helps me focus and decide on a time that works.
5. Listening is always appreciated. Unsolicited advice and suggestions … not so much. Questions can feel overwhelming at times, but thoughtful questions are encouraging. Please be satisfied with what I am willing to share with you instead of pressing me for more information. From a friend:
“Listening and humor. These are two things that really help me.”
Lilli said:
“I need someone to talk to who understands some basic information about the type of cancer I have, who cares about what I am going through, and will listen to the fears I can’t share with my family.”
6. Understanding that each cancer and each person's experience are different. In one of the groups where I am a member, Hannah shared:
“I wish people would Google GCT and understand its uniqueness instead of comparing my illness to someone else’s. I’m not your mom or your aunt, and my situation is different.”
7. Assume that I have done my research, lived a healthy lifestyle, and made smart choices instead of asking if I have 1) taken this or that supplement, 2) used this essential oil, or 3) eaten this particular diet. From another patient:
“I didn’t do anything to bring this one myself. I didn’t miss doing anything, either. According to my doctor, this is genetic, it’s luck of the draw. It hurts when friends ask me if I did or didn’t do something in the past . . . or tell me by taking a certain vitamin I can be healthy in the future. It’s not that simple. Can you change the color of your eyes by rubbing an essential oil on your eyelids?”
8. Texts that aren’t trite or overly spiritualized are encouraging.
One of my favorite texts from a friend:
“Had you on my mind this morning. No verses or scriptures. Just wanted you to know I was thinking and praying about you in my quiet time.”
9. Finally, don’t let the above make you afraid to reach out. According to Anna,
”Just check in. Say hi. Text. Call. Write. Whatever you can do. I found some people were scared they didn’t know what to say or how to say it, and so they didn’t say anything. Some just disappeared from my life during my cancer treatments at the time I needed support most, and that was sad to me.”
I agree with Anna.
Friends, more than anything it doesn’t matter what you do or say when it comes from a heart of love. What matters is that you show up, that you care, that you understand that you truly can’t understand, but, please, don’t let that stop you from trying.
A recent lunch date with friends encouraged me greatly.