I am very excited to share with you the black and white photo project I have been working on.
I have greatly missed being able to paint, soap, and be artistic in other ways, so having this photo project to work on has been deeply cathartic.
The photos depict my breast cancer journey thus far. From diagnostic imagining, to diagnosis, to surviving chemotherapy infusions, and all the highs and lows in between.
Originally, when I thought of this photo project idea, I intended to leave the photos blank. Photos tend to speak louder than words. However, it is extremely soul soothing for me to write, and there is so much I have inside of me I want to get out. So I have chosen to add my thoughts and feelings under each photo.
Despite having a blog for all to read, I'm actually a very private person. A lot of the stuff I share is usually surface level life. However, I have found there is a humbling strength in just getting shit out.....the honest, deep, painful, emotional stuff.
I have dug deep and tried my best to be as vulnerable and honest as possible with my photos and writing. Please keep in mind that this is my experience. This is my reality. These are my thoughts. These are my emotions.
There is no right or wrong when it comes to the human experience and the emotions we feel, shaped by the perception of our lived reality. Especially when staring down a life changing event like cancer.
I am not asking anyone to agree or disagree with anything I share. The truth of the matter is that no one will ever completely understand until they have walked a life changing experience like cancer for themselves. I truly, and whole-heartedly, hope none of you ever have to.
And Still She Blooms
I first found the lump in my left breast on July 14th, 2022. My 36th birthday. I will never forget that moment. My heart knew. It knew. But my mind fought against that reality. Not me. Cancer couldn't happen to me.
I was dismissed at my already scheduled annual well woman's check up later that month. The Dr. assured me it was just normal, denser breast tissue....despite me making it very clear I disagreed with her. This wasn't normal. Not for me. But I wanted to believe her. So damn badly. I wanted it to be nothing. So I shut up and put my blinders on. My biggest regret is leaving that office without demanding a mammogram order be placed. Please don't make the mistake I made. Always speak up. Always advocate for yourself. Even if your voice shakes.
A few weeks went by and the lump remained. It remained and was sometimes sore to the touch. I knew I couldn't just ignore the issue. I couldn't wish it away. I needed a second opinion. It took months to get in at a different location. Clinics are understaffed and overbooked. Existing patients take priority over new patients. A call placed the second week of August got me an appointment in December. No sooner. My second regret. I should have called every woman's clinic in the whole Gorge and not stopped until I was seen that month. But I didn't. And I don't know why.
On December 2, 2022 I was seen at the new clinic. The lump had doubled in size in that time. I demanded a mammogram. She agreed, and also recommended an ultrasound. I felt validated and heard. It was a nice change. But still....things move slow. It wasn't until January 2, 2023 did I finally received the mammogram and ultrasound.
The mammogram and ultrasound confirmed “suspicious masses” in my left breast, as well as swollen lymph nodes in the armpit on that same side.
On January 11, 2023 I had two biopsies done. One of the masses in my breast, one of my lymph nodes. Those biopsies were awful. I did not enjoy that experience at all.
On January 13, 2023, I received the call. It was breast cancer. Stage II, Grade III, Triple Positive, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.
I also had a large calcification. The lymph nodes were negative for cancer per the biopsy results, but in reality, lymph node status wouldn't truly be known until a lymph node dissection was done during surgery that summer.
Life was a whirlwind after that. I have never felt such fear before. In a matter of seconds my life had been turned upside down. I wanted to throw up. I felt weak and shaken. My mind was a fog. Life felt surreal. It was hard to tell my children. The first of many hard things to come my way. But I told them everything would wind up being ok. Life would get hard and scary....for all of us...but in the end, everything would be ok. And I don't lie to my children. But I wondered if I was lying to myself.
I was referred to Compass Oncology out of Portland, OR. I had many appointments with my oncology team to discuss my particular cancer and create a tentative plan. I had an MRI, a PET scan, an echocardiogram, and met with a genetics counselor.
On February 7th, 2023, I had port placement surgery in preparation for chemotherapy. It was my first surgery, ever. That was scary. It made everything feel more real. A true slap in the face from reality.
The surgery went well and my body didn’t reject the port, which I learned could happen. Sam was by my side every step of the way.
It took a long time to completely heal, and the process was painful, but I healed well, with minimal scarring. My surgeon did a great job.
The port was very painful for a long while. I hate having it, but I am use to it now, and it doesn’t cause me any pain unless there’s a lot of pressure on it, but it’ll be a good day when I can have it removed. I'll probably have it well into the summer of 2024 because of immunotherapy infusions.
My port under the skin. Main device in my chest, with tube running over my collar bone.
My life felt like it was completely spinning out of control. I felt frightened, lost, anxious, and depressed. The only way I could keep sane was to keep busy. I did that by preparing myself, my children, and my home as best I could for chemo, and working on creating a healing space in my bedroom.
I was gifted a medical side table for next to my bed, which proved to be very valuable, and Sam and Anthony built me a shelving unit. I strung up lights. I purchased new pajamas, cozy blankets, and a bedroom trash can.
The shelving unit did a great job at organizing all my cancer books and materials, extra blankets, tea, tea kettle, extra snacks, my meds, etc.
On my side table: nausea meds, nausea lozenges, barf bag/bowl, muscle relaxer meds, muscle rub, chap stick, dry mouth spray, dry mouth lozenges, sore throat lozenges, lotion, wipes, bland snacks, etc. I am very thankful to have been gifted the medical bedside table. It was incredibly helpful to have everything I needed within reach.
Not only did I prepare my room with needed items, but also items that were meaningful to me. My bedroom became my healing sanctuary. 
On February 11th, 2023, I had my hair cut. It was the only other thing I had control over. I either let chemo take my hair, and wake up to huge, long hair clumps on my pillow..... or I cut it and have it made into a wig. Those were my options, and I chose to cut it.
My friend Arron volunteered to cut and donate his hair to supplement what I would need for my wig. I can never thank him enough for this kindness. He is a good human.
I dreaded cutting my hair, even more so than the biopsies and port surgery. I shut down for this process. I didn’t allow myself one shred of emotion for fear of completely losing my shit.
My hair. It's hard to look at this photo.
All smiles here on the outside…. but I’m faking it. I just wanted to make it through this process and get it over and done with.
It wasn’t until I got home and took my after photo did I break down. I don’t regret the decision to cut my hair, I was just unprepared for how emotionally hard it would be to do so. I know it's true that hair doesn’t make the person. I know my hair doesn't define who I am. I heard this a lot, and I know it was said to me in love. But I don't think anyone realized just how difficult this reality was for me.
No one else was living my reality. No one else was dealing with a cancer diagnosis and lining up to cut all their hair off before undergoing chemo treatment. It's easy to say such things when it's not a personal reality and one can go about living their life as normal.
I have lived with no hair every single day since February. I can't escape this reality. I go to sleep with no hair. I wake up with no hair. I still reflexively reach for a hair brush I don't need. I still put on a sweatshirt and reach up to fluff hair that isn't there. I cry almost daily over the way that I look.
I feel very alone when it comes to the heartache of loosing my hair and the extremely long process of growing it back. It's hard to feel alone. I’ve gotten pretty good at doing hard things now.
Originally, the plan was for me to start chemo on February 13th. Unfortuantely, the request wasn't submitted in time, and therefore our insurance didn't get it approved in time for that to be my start date. After going back and forth, fighting with our insurance to approve my chemotherapy treatment, my treatment was finally approved and I was able to start treatment a week later on February 20, 2023.
My care team at Compass Oncology out of Portland, OR have been nothing short of supportive and amazing.
The center is quaint, friendly, and supportive. They do well to make you feel like you are in good hands.
Before my first round of chemo, and before every one thereafter, I got a blood draw to check my white blood cell levels, liver levels, etc. "Take a deep breath, here comes the poke..."
Then a line is put into my port in preparation for the chemo meds.
All hooked up and ready to go! Can you believe $147,000 worth of chemo meds were pumped into me for the first round? It’s insane. All totaled, as of right now, we are at $550,000 in medical care for my breast cancer.
For your first round of chemotherapy, you are given a call bell just in case you experience an emergency reaction to the chemo meds. It’s not common, but it’s also not unheard of. Luckily, I didn’t experience any emergency reaction.
The chemo nurses have to gown up for the actual chemotherapy drugs. They don’t have to for the saline bags, nausea meds, or immunotherapy meds. Every single chemo nurse I have had have been amazing. Kind, caring, and empathetic.
I am thankful for my husband who has been present for every appointment, every chemo, and in general, just every step of the way on this cancer journey. I could not do this without him.
This first round of chemo was a long one. We were there close to 9 hours. The chemo nurses like to take things slow and easy so they are better able to watch for potential emergency reactions. Every chemo treatment thereafter averaged between 5-6 hours.
There are no words to express the hardships of recovering from this first round of chemo. To say it was the worst experience of my life is an understatement. I listened to everything my care team told me. I prepared myself the best I could. I felt like I knew what to expect…. but the truth is I had no idea. You simply can’t until you’re physically going through it. I was a train wreck of human suffering. I hardly recognized myself. In complete honesty, I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. These were the worst days of my life. It took everything I had in me to get through this first round.
Chemotherapy damages cells as they divide. Not only cancer cells, but healthy cells. The fact that chemo drugs kill dividing cells helps to explain why chemo causes side effects. It affects healthy body tissues where the cells are constantly growing and dividing. Hair, which is always growing. Your bone marrow, which is constantly producing blood cells. And your skin and the lining of your digestive system, which are constantly renewing themselves. Imagine the cells in your body dying after each chemo treatment, and how that must feel. My body felt like it got hit by a truck. You don't just feel unwell, you are physically in pain. Every part of you. It truly feels as if you are dying.
I feel as if I experienced every side effect in the book….
Intense acid indigestion
Gut pains
Sore & dry throat
Throat tightness
Constant cough
Loss of voice
Dry mouth
Mouth sores
Loss of taste
Metallic taste in mouth
Cold sores
Chapped lips
Eyelid swelling/stye/and infection
Dry nasal passages
Sores in nose
Bloody nose
Runny nose
Nausea
Vomiting
Lack of appetite/inability to eat
Weight loss
Diarrhea
Constipation
Bloat
Severe fatigue
Muscle pain
Bone pain
Fever
Neuropathy in toes/feet
Hot flashes
Inability to sleep
Headaches
Skin dryness
Rash
Starting to lose hair on body
Brain fog
Inability to think, answer questions, or make decisions
Swimmy vision, unable to focus
UTI
Bacterial infection
Yeast infection
Later on, throughout every subsequent round of chemo, I would experience multiple bacterial infections, as well as continue to get eyelid swelling/stye and infections after every round. I was constantly on antibiotics, which are horrible for your gut biome. I felt increasingly depressed each time I realized I was once again getting a bacterial infection or dealing with a stye/eyelid infection and had to head to the doctor for antibiotics. I always felt at my lowest physically, mentally, and emotionally when dealing with my stye/eyelid infections. I wanted to hide away from the world. It was torture to have to venture out into public and deal with all the stares I would receive.
Despite the hardships of the bacterial and eyelid infections, in general, the subsequent rounds of chemotherapy wouldn’t hit me as hard as this first round.
Pills…. pills….and more pills. Pills for nausea, pills for acid indigestion, pills for muscle pain, pills for diarrhea. These were on top of my normal everyday meds I take for my existing thyroid and immune issues.
To help handle side effects and support my immune system…. Juice Plus fruit/veggie gummies, mushroom gummies, mushroom tincture, (not picture are my mushroom capsules), elderberry syrup, CBD/THC gummies for pain, electrolyte drink packets, ensure protein drinks, high dose vitamin C, cranberry capsules, and my homeopathy kit.
Because all the cells in my mouth and throat were dying from the chemo treatment, I experienced horrible mouth issues. Dry mouth, dry throat, mouth sores, cold sores, chapped lips, loss of voice, loss of taste from my tastebuds being killed, etc. It is a feeling unlike any other, and I lack the words to truly describe the sensation of your whole mouth, throat, and digestive track dying. Oncology mouth rinse, oncology toothpaste, dry mouth spray, dry mouth lozenges, cold sore cream, mouth sore medicine, and sore throat lozenges were in my arsenal.
Two different nausea meds, sour nausea lozenges and pops, and a barf bag and bowl were always at the ready.
I experienced severe bone pain from the on-body Neulasta I had to wear for 27 hours after each chemo (it helps your body to make more white blood cells by stimulating your immune system), as well as awful muscle pain. So a prescription muscle relaxer, as well as a wide variety of muscle rubs were enlisted to help. ....But they didn't really.
Again, chemo kills all the cells in your mouth, throat and digestive track. I have never, in all my life, experienced such horrific acid issues as I did while going through chemo. It was torture. By far the worst of all the side effects. My stomach, intestines, and throat constantly had radiating burning acid pain. I had a prescription antacid, as well as other over the counter antacids to help, but truly nothing really took the pain away completely. I just had to get through the first and second weeks post chemo before things began to feel better.
I don’t know how someone can experience both diarrhea and constipation within the same time frame, but chemo made it happened. Bloat, gut pain, gas pain, raw bottom, etc. It wasn’t fun.
Within 10 days of my first round of chemo, the remaining hair on my head started to fall out. I couldn’t stand seeing the bald spots on my head, so it was time to completely shave it.
This was another emotional experience. I didn’t want to do it, but knew I had to. Another hard thing.
Sam lovingly shaved my head with hair trimmers, then used a razor. My sweet soul pup, Leo, remained at my feet the entire time.
It's such an odd feeling. A truly surreal moment. Having someone shave your head.
I cried, and cried, and cried. I truly felt like a cancer patient then. Completely bald, tired, sickly, and weak. My new reality.
Along with help via FMLA which I will discuss later, we also got a handful of discount codes via The American Cancer Association that we could use at any Extended Stay America Hotel.
Because all of my appointments and chemo treatments are in Portland OR, a two hour drive from my home, it has been easier to stay the night in a hotel before each chemo round and for other early morning appointments.
We couldn’t have afforded these hotel stays if it weren’t for the discount codes.
I use to love staying in hotels. Now I get filled with anxiety each time we check into one. My only comfort was knowing Sam was there with me.
Along with codes to help financially with hotel stays, we have also had an outpouring of love from friends and family in the way of financial gifts.
Gas prices are outrageous, and every donation we have received has gone towards gas money and meals while away from home. I am so very thankful for the help we have received.
Because all of my care is based out of Portland, we have spent countless hours in the car. While annoying at first, I have come to enjoy that time alone with Sam. Soaking up the sun through the window, listening to our favorite music, and talking about life.
Traveling to and from appointments and treatment quickly become my time to decompress.
I’m not at home worrying about kids, animals, chores, etc.. And I’m also not out in public worrying about what I look like, who is staring, what people are thinking….
I am with my love, trying to live in the moment, and gearing myself up to continue fighting.
Like previously stated, before each chemo round I would get a blood draw to check my white blood cell count, liver levels, etc. The results would determine if I could continue on with my next round of chemo, or if my body needed more time to recover. After my horrific experience with my first round of chemo, my blood work determined (along with my long list of side effects) that the first dose of chemo meds was too high for my body. So thankfully my dose was lowered for the remaining 5 rounds. I was extremely thankful for that…. there was no way I was going to be able to live through 5 more rounds if they were to be the same as the first. I wouldn't have made it.
After bloodwork, I saw my main Oncologist to check on weight, vitals, talk side effects, ask questions, go over next steps, etc. It was a time to make sure I was on track and to help put my mind at ease over any concerns I might have.
After checking in with my Oncologist, Sammy and I would head upstairs to the chemo suite waiting room and wait for the chemo nurse I would have for that round to check me in, hook me up, and get things going.
I had 6 rounds of chemo, every 3 weeks. I would go on a Monday. My first was February 20th, and my last was June 5th. Each time I would start with a bag of saline on a slow drip, as well as a bag of long-lasting nausea meds
I would then move on to my two immunotherapy meds, Herceptin and Perjeta.
And lastly, my two chemo meds, Taxotere and Carboplatin.
Everything was administered via my port.
One of the chemo drugs always gave me immediate acid/fire pain that started in my belly and radiated throughout my whole chest and I had to be given a med via my port and tons of tums to help manage it while there.
Chemo treatment lasted hours. On average 5-6.
By the way, do you see my awesome sweatshirt? It's specifically designed for chemo infusions. There are zippers at the shoulders, chest, and pockets. This allows easy access to my port and spots for the tubing to come out so I can remain dressed. This was a gift from a very kind and thoughtful friend. I wore it for the remainder of my chemo treatments.
The chemo suite is one large open room. On average there were typically 5-10 other people receiving treatment. I was always, by far, the youngest one there. I don't belong there.
The chairs were comfy, and the chemo nurses made sure you always had a warm blanket. Sometimes I would bring my own, but a few times I forgot and so asked for a heated blanket from the blanket bin. The room was always freezing, so you definitely wanted a blanket.
Obviously there wasn't much to do during treatment. Usually Sammy and I would read, scroll FB or TikTok, talk to other patients, snack, nap, etc.
The chemo suite had a large fridge and snack station filled with pretzels, granola bars, chips, noodle cups, juice, water, soda, etc. I typically could never eat much. On our way to treatment we would stop at Starbucks (I was gifted a substantial gift card) and I would get a small drink or a muffin that I'd eat right at the beginning of treatment. After treatment got going though, even with the nausea meds, I would become nauseated from the acid indigestion and I wouldn't feel like eating.
I can't say enough good things about the chemo nurses. There were 5-6 of them, but I typically had the same 3 for the course of my treatment. I had my favorites, but all of them were nothing short of amazing. They genuinely cared, and would listen to you. I would often cry, and they were always very empathetic. That meant everything to me.
The nurses were always extremely attentive. Asking if you needed anything, or checking on how you were feeling. When your bag was empty, an alarm would sound and your nurse would come over and change it out for the next one.
Every single time a new bag was put up...."Full name and date of birth, please?"
I always joked with them that they must hear the alarms in their sleep.
I never went anywhere without my IV pole....even to the bathroom.
And you went to the bathroom no less than 100 times with all that fluid being pumped in you.
Once my chemo treatment was finished for that round, I was unhooked and prepped for my on-body Neulasta.
Neulasta is a device you can put on your belly or arm. It stays on for 27 hours. At the 27-hour mark, it injects a med that helps your body to make more white blood cells by stimulating your immune system. It causes severe muscle and bone pain in the following days. I couldn’t even touch my skin without being in pain. Your bones felt broken, especially your jaw and ribs. Your whole body felt like one big bruise. Nothing really helped the pain. I would just lay there in agony, unable to move.
Chemotherapy has been the single hardest experience of my life thus far. The many side effects were difficult to cope with. I have never felt so tired and fatigued in all my life. Never felt such brain fog and been unable to think before. Never been in such pain. I will forever lack the words to express just how it felt.
After a round of chemo, I would be in bed for upwards of a whole week, sleeping most of the time, in an incredible amount of pain from the Neulasta and various side effects. Those days I hardly had the energy to get out of bed to use the bathroom and shower. Sam had to help me do everything.
The fevers and hot flashes I experienced were nasty. They are no joke. I am currently still dealing with hot flashes, and will be for a long time to come due to needing to be on a hormone-blocking pill because my cancer is fueled by hormones. I frequently had cool washcloths or icepacks across my floorhead to help take the edge off.
Every night I would wake up, and still do, 2-3 times drenched in sweat and would have to stumble my way to the bathroom to rip my pajamas off and put new ones on. Come morning time there would always be a huge pile of sweaty, stinking clothing on the bathroom floor.
Most days saltines, bone broth, and an electrolyte drink would be all I could get down. Dry cereal and fruit were eaten on good days. Veggies and meat eaten on better days.
I struggled with a lack of appetite and nausea a lot during my first few rounds of chemo. For about a year, before I found out I had breast cancer, I had been steadily loosing weight. I chocked it up to working on my gut health, which is partly responsible. But my undiagnosed breast cancer was the main culprit. I went from 114 pounds down to 98. During the first round of chemo, I went down to 88 pounds. I was very thin and sickly.
Thankfully I didn't struggle as much appetite and nausea wise with my last 3 rounds, and I was able to eat more and thus have been able to climb up to 100 pounds, which I currently feel good at.
Living through this cancer journey has not been pretty or easy.
There is so much that people don't see or think about. So much suffering that happens behind closed doors. So many tears cried when no one is around.
Fuck the hardships it brings.
Everyday I pray to the Universe that my treatment will take my cancer away. That I will be declared NED at the end of all of this. That my cancer will not return. That I will never have to experience this again in my lifetime.
I pray that my husband will never have to experience this again. I pray my children will never have to experience someone they love going through cancer again. Or worse....that they themselves will one day have to experience cancer for themselves. I am frightened for them.
I won't ever be able to accurately express the mental and emotional toll my cancer diagnosis has had on me. I know I am a strong person...a fighter....but at times there is only so much a person can take. Every day I am filled with anxiety and fear. I never get a break from my cancer. I can't run away from it. I go to bed and it's there. I wake up and it's there. It's always on my mind, even when I try not to think about it or give it the power to run my life. It is there. It has absolutely affected every aspect of my life. There are moments that I forget. But then I remember. It all comes crashing down on me and I wonder if I am strong enough to continue to bare the weight cancer has had on my life. I am so fearful.
I fear that even after I get through this journey, that I will forever be paranoid and fearful of it coming back. Because it can. And for some people it does. That is a reality. Survivorship. That's what life after cancer is called. How can I overcome that fear? Will I ever? I don't want to live in constant fear, but I'm not sure how to let it go.
I hate how I look. I know people will say otherwise, but this journey is about me....and this is how I feel. I feel self conscious and ugly all the time and never want to leave my house. I don't want anyone to see me.
When I do go out in public, trust me when I say, it has taken all of my willpower and strength to do so.
Especially when dealing with styes/eyelid infections. People stare at me. Children point and laugh and quite loudly point out that I have no hair. Their parents pretend they don't hear because it's an uncomfortable situation they don't want to deal with. It's all too much to deal with when I already feel miserable about my looks.
I never thought I was ever that vain...but I suppose I was. I have been humbled through all of this.
The fear, anxiety, and depression that comes with a cancer diagnosis is overwhelming. Every day I am overwhelmed with emotion and cry. I am surrounded by loving friends and family, yet I feel more alone than ever. Cancer is a lonely road, despite having support. No one will ever truly understand until it is them. I hope you never have to understand.
I have had many breakdowns. Some privately, some with Sam, my mother and father, and some publicly. I have never felt such depth of emotion. I feel it now, while typing this. You quickly have to become ok with feeling your emotions, anytime and anywhere. Stuffing them down....choking them back....that is more damaging. Despite hating wearing my emotions on my sleeve for all to see, that is where I'm at, and where I will remain. I have learned so much about myself thus far through this experience. Everyday I tell myself I want to come out the other end of this a better person for myself, my husband, and for my children. I will use this experience to grow and become a better human.
Physically, cancer and chemo have ravaged my body and completely upended my life. I should be camping and hiking with my family right now, instead we have made no summer plans. I don't have the energy.
Even a month post chemo, I run out of energy walking down to my barn and back. It's frustrating. I get angry and cry over what cancer has taken from me. I don't know when or how long it'll take for my body to feel like my own again. Maybe it never will.
I try really hard to offer myself some grace. I tell myself this won't last forever. I will get my body back. My energy back. My mind back. My LIFE back. We will camp again. We will hike again. We will once again be able to do all the things we normally do as a family. Things won't always be like this. It won't always be this hard. I know this in my heart.
But it is so hard living through it. I have missed so much of my children's lives the past 7 months, and I wonder how much more I will have to miss.
I still have so far to go on this cancer journey. Sometimes it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I feel time ticking away, life around me continues on, and I am frustrated to not have the energy to be a part of it like I want to be. I miss my "normal" life.
Despite the hardships of this cancer journey physically, mentally, and emotionally.....despite struggling daily to see the "why" in all of this, I try extremely hard to push through. I have a lot to be grateful for, a lot to live for, and I repeat them to myself daily.
This dog. My soul pup, Leopold. It is no exaggeration when I say I could not do this without him. He is there, without fail, every second of every day. I love him more than I ever thought I possibly could.
And my children...I would be completely lost without them. I can not imagine a World where I don't get to call them mine.
They are my beating heart and soul. They are the reason I fight, and what keeps me going, day in and day out. Even on the days I don't want to do this anymore.
I have always had a close relationship with my children, but over the past 7 months, my relationship with all three of them have grown to depths I couldn't have ever imagined.
They share their lives with me in a way most children don't with their parents. I will never take that for granted.
They are amazing. Deep and thoughtful. The best kids I know. The best people I know. I am so thankful I get to be their Mama.
And if ever, at any point in time, cancer takes me from this World, I will go into the Universe knowing I have felt the deepest love one possibly can.
I am so deeply proud of my children and the resiliency that they show. This has not been easy on them. I hope everyone will continue to offer them grace and support. Please stop for a moment and put yourself in my shoes. In their shoes. They are living through the scariest moments thus far of their lives.
And this man.....
I didn't know I could fall even deeper in love with him. He is my soul mate. My hero. My rock. My everything. He is there, day in and day out, loving me unconditionally.
He has seen me at my worst, and still he is there. Taking care of me. Not just physically, but emotionally.
Lifting me up during my darkest moments. I have cried more tears upon his shoulder than I ever thought I could.
I know this has all been scary for him too. Still he perseveres. He has taken on so much, but never complains. He works hard to make sure things are done and taken care of. Appointments are made. Insurance is dealt with. Hotels are booked. He works at his job, and then works here at home.
I am so thankful to have him by my side through the darkest and scariest days of my life.
FMLA (Family Medical Leave Act) has given him 12 weeks paid leave from work. This has been the biggest blessing we have received. He has been able to take off work the whole week of each chemo, as well when needed for my other appointments.
Then there is my Mother. Willing to help in any way possible. Cleaning my house. Fixing us meals. Taking me out. Driving me around. Holding my hand.
And my father. Flying to WA all the way from NY to cart the kids to and from the bus stop and other events. To plant, water, and care for my garden. To feed my goats. To clean my house.
And my Mother in Law. Facilitating meal drop off and pick up. Driving my kids to and from. Rolling with the punches when plans changed. And change again. And again. And again. My heart bursts with thankfulness for all of the help I have received from family.
Then there are my friends. Acquaintances. And also total strangers. People who have stepped in and stepped up. Some people have distanced themselves. And I get that. You have a life to live. This is not your reality. Cancer is scary. I don't take offense. And I hold no ill fillings.
But ohhhhh how many, many others have surrounded me with love. I have received countless messages of well wishes and support in the mail and via FB. They mean so much to me and I have kept every single one.
There have been, and continues to be, countless financial gifts. These gifts have seen us through many miles of driving, many meals on the go, and many hotel stays. Cancer brings on a financial struggle no one is ever prepared for, but the financial gifts we have received have made things just a little bit easier, and the amount of gratitude we hold in our hearts for every person who has helped us will never be able to be expressed.
I am also extremely grateful for the many meals that have been lovingly prepared for myself and my family. Our bellies have never gone hungry.
Many gift baskets filled with well thought out items to ease the burden of this journey and bring a smile to my face have also found their way to my doorstep. I have been blown away by the kindness and thoughtfulness of those who have sent me gifts.
I will never be able to thank you all enough. You helped, and continue to help, my family and I during the most difficult time of our lives. Your love, support, and thoughtfulness means the World to me.
Thank you for rooting for me. Thank you for being in my corner. Thank you for the love. The support. The kind words. The encouragement. The understanding. The lack of judgement.
I have been humbled by this experience, and know I will continue to be as I continue on my journey.
With love,
Mama Hauck
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